#maybe three blades to each driver would make sense since that’s how many you can have in your active party?

[moved-to-void-kissed]

Today’s random selfship-related fact is:

Sapphire knows Crossette as one of Nia’s Blades, and the firework-loving Bitball user was already awakened by the time Sapphire met the party. The two of them are good friends, since Crossette’s adoration of Pyra quickly led her to declare herself the official number one supporter of Pyra and Sapphire’s relationship while it was developing.

[silhouetteofacedar]

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 5: Dana's Work Friend

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

Friday, April 3rd, 1998. Scully comes into the office in a flurry of coat and red hair. She doesn’t greet him, just drops her briefcase on the desk and sinks into her seat across from him.

“Mulder, I have a favor to ask of you, and you’re probably going to hate it, so just bear in mind that I have exhausted all my other options,” she says, somewhat breathless.

“You’re really selling it,” he deadpans. “What is it?” he asks, settling into his chair and leaning his elbows on the desk.

“You remember Mark,” she prompts, and he nods. Ugh. If only he could forget.

“Well, it turns out that Mark is extremely - almost agonizingly - social, despite having a demanding job and a young child to raise.”

“Sounds awful,” Mulder comments.

“Hence my current predicament. He’s invited me and my friends out for drinks tonight, so his friends can meet me and I can meet his and he can meet mine… “ she rambles before refocusing herself. “He’s not aware that I’ve lost contact with most of my friends. You’re kind of the only one left.”

Mulder had suspected as much, but confirmation of her increasing social isolation is like a punch in the throat. “Are you sure there’s no one else?” he asks softly, not wanting to rub salt into any wounds.

She shakes her head, lips pressed together. “Unless the Lone Gunmen count as my friends,” she replies. “Which in this case is somehow worse than having none at all,” she muses, some humor in her voice.

“Good point,” he chuckles. “Sure, count me in.”

“Thank you,” she says sincerely, and he melts all over again. He’d do anything for her. Even if it means meeting Mark. Ugh.

“It’s worth mentioning,” Mulder says after a moment, “If you don’t want to go, you can always just not go.”

“Shockingly, I have thought of that,” she says dryly, opening her briefcase and pulling out a folder. “But I think it would be good for me to meet people and hold conversations that aren’t related to criminal or paranormal activity. Might be good for you, too,” she adds, glancing up at him.

He pulls a stack of files out of his inbox on the desk. “I’ll stick to ‘ghosties and ghoulies and long-leggedy beasties and things that go bump in the night’,” he says.

“‘Good Lord, deliver us',” Scully replies, finishing the old prayer.

Mulder looks up at her and finds her smiling at him, and his whole body flushes with heat and adoration.

“Let’s elope,” he says, and she rolls her eyes fondly before burying her nose in her work.

I’m not kidding, he yells inside the prison of his own thick skull.

After work he and Scully drive straight to the bar together, a yuppie place in Foggy Bottom near George Washington University Hospital.

“Have you ever been through their ER?” Scully asks, scanning the street for parking. “I imagine you’ve been through enough hospitals to warrant a map on the wall with little pins stuck in it.”

“I can’t possibly remember them all at this point,” he says absently, tugging at his seatbelt uncomfortably. Why is he nervous? He’s just here to show Scully’s man friend that she’s not entirely a basement-dwelling hermit.

And Mulder’s the best she could do? God, maybe she really does need to get out more.

She parks, and he feeds the meter while she touches up her lipstick in the rearview mirror. She looks sweet and and rosy, flushed with nerves and traffic, and he could so easily scoop her up and kiss her-

“Alright,” she says, climbing out of the car and closing the driver’s side door a little harder than necessary. She smooths her hair down. “I’m ready for battle.”

“I’m prepared to fall on my sword,” he assures her, guiding her onto the sidewalk with a hand on her lower back before realizing he probably shouldn’t touch her so familiarly when her… friend might see.

“It’ll be fine,” she says over her shoulder as she grasps the bar door’s handle. “Just behave,” she hisses, and they enter.

The onslaught is immediate.

“Dana!” a voice calls out through the bustling bar, and Mulder sees a man waving them over. He’s got neatly styled dishwater blond hair, broad shoulders, and dimples at the corners of his mouth as he smiles at them. Not bad, Mulder thinks, unsure of how to feel about this new information.

He barely has time to process it before they’re enveloped in a tight swarm of strangers. The blond man, presumably Mark, loops an arm around Scully’s shoulders and gives her a side-hug.

“So glad you could make it, Dana,” he says, and proceeds to go around the circle of people and rattle off names Mulder has no reason to remember. Instead, he watches Scully, the way she greets each person as they’re introduced. She’s cool and calm, smiling politely, shaking hands and saying ‘nice to meet you’ to each of the five - no, six - people in the group.

“I’ll grab you two some drinks,” Mark says, glancing at Mulder. “What’s your poison?”

“Shiner,” Mulder says.

“Same for me,” Scully says. “I’m going to freshen up-”

“Sure,” Mark says, giving her shoulders a squeeze. “Two Shiner Bocks coming up.”

That’s how Mulder and this exuberant, Golden Retriever of a man end up sitting at the bar together, nursing sweaty beers and waiting for Scully to return from the bathroom.

“So you’re a work friend of Dana’s?” Mark asks over the noise of the bar.

Mulder was about to set his drink down, but he reconsiders and takes another swig. “In a manner of speaking,” he replies.

Dr. Mark Whatever-the-fuck seems confused. “I don’t follow,” he says.

“I’m her partner,” Mulder says flatly. Since 1993. I’ve seen her naked, cradled her injured body my arms, saved her goddamn life. Have you?

“Oh!” Mark says, clearly making mental connections. “Oh. Sorry, I just- it’s nice to meet you… Fox?”

“Just Mulder’s fine,” he corrects him.

Mark laughs. “Sorry for the confusion on my end; I think Dana only said your name once and I went and assumed Fox Mulder was a woman. And you know what they say about assuming,” he adds with a nudge.

Once. Only once? Maybe that shouldn’t surprise him, but it does. Whenever he meets someone new in Scully’s life they always throw out the usual ‘I’ve heard a lot about you’ line, so he knows she talks about him to others. But not to this guy. Why not to this guy?

Mercifully, Scully returns from the restroom. Mark hands her her beer. “Thanks,” she says softly, giving him a small smile with her lips closed tightly, which strikes Mulder as odd. He knows she’s somewhat self-conscious about smiling with her teeth, but something he sees in her face doesn’t feel quite right.

Of course it doesn’t feel right to you, he thinks. She’s smiling at some other guy.

They’re swept along in a current of conversation, scrambled introductions, and drink orders. He’s introduced to a handful of people he’ll selectively erase from his eidetic memory, standing across from Scully in their little circle instead of by her side. He doesn’t like it. Another man has his hand on her back, although respectfully keeping it between her shoulder blades. Any lower and Mulder would have to excuse himself to have a panic attack in the alley behind the bar. Or throw up.

He’s glad Mark’s friends aren’t particularly interested in making conversation with him; he’s tired and ready to go home. Luckily, the Doctor himself calls the night early, at half-past eight.

“I promised the little one I’d be home to tuck her in,” he explains, and Mulder’s stomach turns from the purity and sweetness of it. “She gets to stay up a little later on Fridays.” He gives Scully another half of a hug and says his goodbyes.

The group disperses pretty quickly after Mark leaves, and Mulder and Scully are left alone outside the bar.

“So, you met Mark,” Scully says simply.

“I did, yeah.” He can sense that she wants him to say something more. “He seems... nice,” Mulder adds.

Scully nods. “Yeah, he���s nice.”

Mulder’s beginning to think ‘nice’ is the only word anyone’s capable of using to describe this guy.

“I’ll bet Bill’s gonna love him,” he comments, hoping he doesn’t sound as bitter as he feels.

Scully shakes her head, smiling. “I knew there had to be a flaw in him somewhere,” she jokes.

Mulder surprises himself with a huffed laugh. This moment with her is strangely precious, despite the circumstances. He doesn’t know how many moments like this he has left, if he’s being honest.

“I’m happy for you,” he says tenderly, and maybe if he says it enough it’ll be true. She deserves this, he reminds himself. It’s become almost a mantra, a lead weight that keeps him from drifting away.

“Are you?” she asks, catching him off guard. “I caught you staring holes into him more than once.”

“I wasn’t,” Mulder says defensively. “This is just my face.”

She gives him a look that clearly says ‘I call bullshit’, and he folds. “He didn’t know who I was,” he says, and it sounds monumentally stupid out loud. “He though Fox Mulder was a woman.”

“I-I don’t know why he would have thought that,” Scully says, pensive. “I never implied-”

“Fox is an unusual name,” Mulder interrupts. “It’s an honest mistake if you just hear it without any context.”

Scully looks down at her feet. “I’m sorry about that,” she says softly. “About all of this. I owe you one.”

Mulder reaches out and squeezes her shoulder, and it seems to have a grounding effect on both of them. “I’ll put it on your tab,” he says.

“Do you want me to drive you back to work?” she asks. They’d left his car in the garage at the Hoover building.

Mulder shakes his head. “You’re almost home,” he says. “I’ll get a cab.”

He ends up walking instead.

The night air cleanses his senses as he makes the half-hour trek back to the Bureau. Their time in the bar had felt sluggish and hazy, despite the fact that he only had a beer and a half. He spend the entire evening focused on Scully, the only sharp image amidst the blur of patrons.

Mark hadn’t kissed Scully goodbye, and Mulder’s relief at not having to witness it was overshadowed by a morbid curiosity. She and Mark had been dating for three weeks; he’s not sure how often they’ve actually gone out, due to the doctor’s shift schedule, but he assumes they’ve seen each other a few times at mass in addition to whatever outings they’ve gone on in the evenings. That was ample time to get to know each other physically on some level, wasn’t it? A peck on the cheek at least.

Mulder’s biased; he’s touch-starved and in love with her. He spends most of his nights on his couch in the dark, touching himself and thinking about Scully. Kissing her, taking her clothes off, tasting her; his mental catalogue of scenarios is robust and well-used. If given half the chance to love her…

Maybe that’s it, he thinks somberly, stepping over sidewalk cracks. Maybe chances are taken, not given.

That’s not how he wants to love her. He wants her to choose him all on her own, and yet he never let her know he was a choice. And now there’s Mark.

But Mark doesn’t kiss her.

[argylemnwrites]

Fight or Flight - Chapter 14: Help

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Heir (canon divergent from the end of book 2)

Word Count: ~4100

Rating: R (language, 30 diamond scene)

Summary: About three weeks since The Walker Absconding

Author’s Note: With my state surging so badly that the CDC had to come up with a new category for coronavirus monitoring, and my hospital group changing policy constantly, even the illusion of an update schedule is pretty much out the window at this point, so thank you to all of you who are still sticking with this series! I saw that in canon, our crew just now decided to go on the run, but my MC and Drake have been on the lam for a while at this point, hahaha, so thanks for going on this wild ride with them!

This series follows the Walkers, their friends, and Cordonia as a whole after they flee the country with their daughter during Barthelemy Beaumont’s attempted coup. To catch up on this series, check out it’s masterlist. (link can be found via my bio - sorry, Tumblr is once again not putting my posts with links in tag searches)

Olivia let out a sigh as the privacy divider in her town car finally finished closing, tipping her head back and tugging the pins out of her hair. “God, what a nightmare.”

Liam hummed in agreement. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay at the palace tonight? It might be good optics, keeping you in the thick of things since the social season just started.”

He shook his head as he shifted slightly next to her. “After Hana’s conversation with Kiara and all its revelations, we need to be able to discuss things openly. With everything that has already happened, I don’t trust my assigned quarters at the palace to not be bugged.”

All Olivia could do was let out a little shrug. She knew he had a point, but she was worried about his overall approach here. All the strategizing and discussing in the world wouldn’t matter if he didn’t maintain an image of strength and dependability. Trotting back to the seclusion of Lythikos consistently would absolutely weaken the perception others had of him.

“So, I think we can safely assume that Amalas knows about this alliance between Barthelemy and Auvernal. It would explain why she was so eager to strike a deal with us,” Liam continued, reaching up and loosening his tie as he stretched his neck.

“But why would Aurvernal agree to work with Barthelemy? He wasn’t exactly supportive of them when they were trying to force Drake and Riley to solidify the betrothal. Hell, he used that mess to argue against their suitability to raise Bridget.”

Liam frowned, his eyes dropping to his lap for just a moment. “The latter part of your statement I can see him spinning over the coming months. He can argue that he has met with neighboring leaders and struck more beneficial alliance terms than I was ever able to foster, making him better suited for the role of monarch. With the delay in the start of the social season, he’ll have plenty of time to sell it as believable.”

“We had to push Rashad to delay. Hana told us that we need to make sure-”

“-Kiara represents House Theron, I know. It’s just unfortunate the delay may also be desirable for Barthelemy’s camp as well as ours. It would be nice to catch a break for once.”

“Liam…”

He ignored her attempt at sympathy. “Oh well, that’s just the reality isn’t it? We need to figure out how Auvernal played into Landon’s decision. Have you been able to buy off any of their staff?”

Olivia shook her head. “Not yet. I have a couple of leads on a maid and a driver who might be loyal to you, though.”

“That’s something, I suppose. I guess we should probably try and gain some intelligence about the motives of Bradshaw and Isabella as well, shouldn’t we?” He sounded tired, his hands working to remove his cufflinks.

“Yeah, we definitely need to hit this from multiple angles, find out their goal and what they might have done to sway not only Landon, but Hakim and Adelaide. Barthelemy is absolutely going to challenge Bertrand for control of House Beaumont, so we need to gain at least two of those votes. Counting on keeping the Beaumont vote in our camp is just too… dicey at this point, don’t you think?”

Liam nodded, but didn’t seem to want to say anything, so Olivia just kept going. “Now, I think since it’ll be Kiara voting, and she’s been very willing to divulge things to Hana, that is probably our best bet. And I know I’ve been focusing on getting some dirt on Landon and Emmeline, but maybe Adelaide would be the easier pick up? She’s never had much interest in actual politics, so maybe if we had Maxwell just socialize with her repeatedly at the upcoming events, that might be enough? For whatever reason she’s always loved him.”

She glanced over, surprised to find Liam with his eyes closed, his head tipped back. Had he fallen asleep that quickly?

“Liam?” she hissed out.

“I’m still listening; I promise you I’m not asleep.”

“Do you have anything to add?”

He shook his head against the back of the seat without opening his eyes. “No, you seem to have things under control.”

“But, I was-”

“-I trust you, Olivia.”

His words should have been affirming and confidence boosting, but instead all she felt was fear. He should be more invested than this. He needed to be more invested than this. And honestly, she was sure he knew that fact. He would go through the motions of strategizing with her on a regular basis. But he always faded quickly, becoming distracted or introspective. He was ruminating instead of focusing and channeling that hurt and pain into something productive. 

But that wasn’t going to stop tonight. It was very late, and the drive back to Lythikos was a long one. So, Olivia just let him rest, pulling out her burner phone and scanning for any news bulletins about the Walkers being found in Athens, letting out a small sigh of relief when she found none. It looked like Leo and Riley had managed to pull it off. Combine that with Hana’s intel, and she knew the night had been more successful than not. She just needed Liam to start to see things that way. Otherwise, the upcoming months were going to be even bleaker than anticipated.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Riley kept her head down as she shuffled past a man in the hallway. With two large duffels, it was a bit awkward, and she didn't want the man to remember anything about her other than the fact that it was a bit of a tight fit with all her luggage.

Once he was out of sight, she unlocked the door to their hotel room, opening it as narrowly as possible to slide into the room. She had barely closed and locked the door when she felt a pair of familiar strong arms engulfing her. She dropped the duffel bags to the ground and spun in his embrace, wrapping her arms around his back.

"You're back," Drake murmured into her hair. She could feel his chest rising and falling rapidly, his whole body practically trembling. "You were late, and I thought…"

"Leo was almost an hour late," she said, her voice somewhat muffled by his chest because of how closely he was holding her. "I wanted to text you, but-"

"No, you made the right call." They had decided early on to avoid using their new phones to contact each other if at all possible. That way, if one of them got picked up and taken into custody, the other wouldn't be instantly traceable. It meant a lot of anxiety and fear when they weren't together, though. "I just… I… I was worried that…" Drake kept trailing off, almost as if he was unable to say his fears out loud.

"I know, Drake. I know. But it's okay. It all went okay." She slid her hands up, tracing between his shoulder blades, running her fingers through his hair, trying to soothe both him and herself. To call tonight stressful was a mad understatement.

“Leo had our stuff?”

She nodded against his chest. “In his hotel room. I obviously didn’t take the time to dig through it all, but I saw toys, clothing, documents, money.”

Drake ran his hands through her hair, then loosened his hold on her enough to lean back and look her in the eyes. “Did anyone… were you...”

“I don’t think anyone noticed me, Drake.”

He let out a shuddering breath, and then he was kissing her. Not some gentle, tender peck, but hard and deep. Like he used to kiss her when they were alone. Before she turned their lives upside down.

She missed this. She knew it was stupid. They were wanted fugitives and barely getting by in a foreign country. They were hungry and stressed and sleep-deprived. On top of that, they shared one room with their soon-to-be 11 month old daughter, so they had no privacy. Their sex life was far from their most pressing concern.

But… she still missed it, that sense of shared connection and intimacy, and that encompassed more than just the sex. She honestly felt like his teammate or coworker more than his wife far too often. They just spent so much time on the practical, discussing next steps, trying to arrange logistics. Moments of shared laughter and warmth were few and far between these days. And sure, they didn't really have much to laugh about, but it was still a loss.

When she’d sat on his lap yesterday after dyeing her hair, it almost felt like a sliver of their old life and dynamic was back. She’d teased him, he’d held her close. But moments like that were just not the norm for them anymore. Most of the time, even any physical affection was more focused on comfort in light of something negative. Holding hands, hugs, that sort of thing seemed to only happen when their world felt like it was crumbling around them. It’s like they shared nothing but worry and fear most of the time.

There was also the fact that Drake hadn't opened up to her about his own emotions. She knew him. She knew that his fractured relationship with Liam must be weighing on him, that he must feel mad guilty about so many things. But he wasn't telling her anything. He hadn't kept things from her like this in years, and it honestly scared the shit out of her. At first, she thought he was just trying to shield her from his own pain. She knew that her initial panic had probably sent him into hyper-protective mode. But that was weeks ago. She was pretty sure she was holding it together better now. At the very least, she didn't think she was a walking mess anymore.

But Drake was definitely still keeping everything bottled up, and she had to wonder if that was in part because he didn't trust her. Whether it was because her initial panic had meant that she had not considered him enough or because he resented her decision to take Bridget out of Cordonia and away from their entire support system or because he couldn't help but see her as the reason he was named a traitor she had no idea. And maybe he was still just trying to shield her from his own worries and anxieties, but the fear was there that in her efforts to protect her kid, she was slowly losing her husband.

While Drake was off busting his ass to keep their family afloat, she'd had a lot of time to think, and she knew that wasn't helpful. When Bridget was awake, playing with her kept her mind off of those awful thoughts, but they kept creeping back in when she napped and slept. There was only so long that playing Dopey Cat could provide a distraction, after all. So instead she wondered endlessly if she had only been able to keep Bridget by her side at the cost of the foundation of her marriage.

For so many years, those fears of never mattering enough to someone else, of always ending up alone in the end had led her to keep relationships superficial. She’d avoided vulnerability, and therefore pain, at all costs. But then she came to Cordonia, and she had Drake, Hana, Maxwell, and Liam. She’d come to trust and feel and it was beyond anything younger her could have ever dreamed up. But now she’d ruined things with Liam, was disconnected from Hana and Maxwell, and it seemed all too likely she’d damaged things with Drake, too. All those people, who actually cared about her. She’d made a mess of the best parts of her life.

And maybe she was overreacting. Drake still clearly loved and cared about her. Worried about her constantly, in all honesty. But she also worried that he was gradually pulling away from her, that some day would creep up on them where all they would share would be concern for Bridget. But tonight, after all the stress and anxiety and fears of the evening, he was kissing her like he wanted her, like he loved her, and she couldn’t get enough of it.

She let out a pathetically needy moan, the sort of noise that would usually draw a smirk and some teasing from Drake. But tonight, he didn’t. Instead, he just surged forward with a groan of his own, driving her back into the wall and hooking his hands around her thighs, hoisting her up onto his waist before she could even process what was going on.

Riley clawed her fingers into his shoulders, dropping her head back against the wall as he moved his lips across her jaw. She began rocking her hips against him, tilting her head to the side as he worked his way down her neck, biting down lightly as he went. She tugged at his t-shirt, and after a few moments, he finally got the hint, sliding his hands out from under her thighs, letting her drop to the floor as he pulled off his shirt.

Deep down, Riley knew they had a lot they still needed to talk about and that doing this wasn’t going to fix the ache that had been growing in her heart, day by day. But she also knew that after weeks of stress and the horrible possibilities about tonight that had been running through both their minds, maybe this was just something they really needed. So she scrambled to tug off her shirt and jeans, kicking her sandals somewhere towards the door as Drake unbuckled his pants, and in almost no time they were both adding their underwear to the pile of clothing on the floor.

They were back on each other in an instant, hands grabbing and stroking, mouths everywhere. Riley felt her feet leaving the floor, so she wrapped her legs around Drake’s waist as he held her under her thighs, slamming her back against the wall. And then he was sinking into her, dropping his head to her shoulder to muffle the groan he let out as he did so.

It was all quick and frantic, both of them thrusting against each other wildly. She could sense that Drake was just as desperate as her. Desperate to feel something besides anxiety and guilt and pain. She knew she was going to have bruises from his fingers with how tightly he was clutching her thighs, but she didn’t care. Hell, she wondered how badly she was scratching his back. None of that mattered.

She hissed out his name as his lips latched back onto her neck. She knew this was going to be quick, so as she slid one hand up to his neck, tugging on his hair, she also dropped her other hand down between them, letting her fingers trace circles right above where they were joined. It didn't take long before she felt a warmth spreading out, down her legs and up her back, and then she was gone. Drake must have felt her climax, because he muttered "Fuck" into the skin of her neck, only driving into her a couple more times before she felt him spilling inside her. He slumped against the wall, his weight the only thing keeping her from sliding to the floor.

After a few moments, Drake let out a sigh, placing his hands back on her thighs and easing her down as he took a step back. “You okay?” he asked, his head slightly downturned.

Riley closed the newly-created gap between them, stepping forward and sliding a hand up to his cheek. “Drake, I’m fine. Are… are you okay?”

He nodded, tugging her into a gentle hug. “I just… I think I…”

“It’s okay, Drake. I get it.” She didn’t like that he still apparently couldn’t talk to her, but if he’d needed a minute of physical comfort and reprieve, well that was pretty fucking understandable. So she didn’t push him, just joined him in getting cleaned up and dressed in a t-shirt and underwear. While Drake washed the day’s clothes in the bathroom, she checked on Bridget, passed out in the travel crib Drake had picked up a few weeks back. They hadn’t used it to this point, and Riley wondered why Drake had dug it out of the car tonight. It had been safely tucked away with the tent, sleeping bags, and ground pad since he bought it.

“I thought we should probably start trying to get her used to it.” Drake’s voice cut through the room, startling Riley and answering the question she never got a chance to ask. “We are looking at months of being on the run. We need to start… I don’t know, making things… stable for her, I guess.”

“Makes sense,” said Riley, giving her daughter one last look before turning around to face Drake. “How did she handle bedtime?”

He grimaced and shook his head. “I think she was scared or upset because you weren’t here. She was basically inconsolable. I contemplated taking her on a drive just to calm her down. I kind of figured the night couldn’t get any worse, so I might as well try the crib. She screamed for about an hour before she wore herself out.”

Riley walked over and wrapped her arms around Drake. He struggled more with the sleep training than she did, even if he talked a way bigger game about letting Bridget “cry it out” in the light of day. “Well, she’s asleep now at least.”

Drake nodded, running a hand up and down her back. “You ready to go through the bags?”

She nodded and gave him a little smile, sitting down on the end of the bed as Drake grabbed the duffels and brought them over. They slowly worked their way through them, item by item. Hana had included so many useful things, from the practical, like clothes appropriate for a variety of types of weather and spare contact lenses and Riley’s glasses, to the unessential but truly missed, like Bridget’s stuffed corgi and Riley’s good hair brush. There was a lot of money in there, too. Thousands of Euros, which probably wouldn’t be enough to get them all the way until January, but at least made their situation a lot less dire. Their passports and birth certificates were tucked in there as well. For the first time, it felt like they might have some options when it came to their next steps. 

After twenty minutes or so of sorting and unpacking, they reached the bottom of the bags. There were a handful of framed photos. Riley hadn’t mentioned any pictures as being something they wanted, so this must have been Hana’s idea. There were a couple that had been displayed in their bedroom and den. A candid Maxwell took on their wedding reception, Drake sitting down as Riley stood behind him, her arms looped over his shoulders, both of them looking at each other with stupid, cheesy grins on their faces. The two of them with Savannah, Bertrand, and Bartie taken down in Texas, the day before the wedding. A photo of the three of them that Hana had taken in the privacy of their home the day after the anointing with them in casual clothing, just curled up on the couch holding Bridget, a stark contrast from the pomp of the formal portrait for the history books and press release the day before. There were a couple of new ones, too. The corgis snuggled together on their massive cushion in the den. Hana and Maxwell grinning with arms thrown over each other's shoulders, clearly a selfie taken by Maxwell at a formal event. Liam and Olivia sitting on a couch at what appeared to be the Lythikos keep, Olivia with an eyebrow raised, Liam with a hollow-looking smile.

Riley glanced over at Drake, unsure how these photos would affect him. He just swallowed roughly before placing the stack of photos he was holding on the bed next to him. Riley leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder. They were both silent for a few moments until Drake finally spoke.

“Was that everything?”

Riley shook her head. “No, there’s a letter. At least I assume that’s what it is. It’s an envelope with Hana’s writing.”

Drake didn’t say anything, so after a few seconds, Riley leaned forward, grabbing the envelope with “Riley & Drake” looped in beautiful cursive sitting at the bottom of one of the duffels. She slid her finger under the flap and pulled out a sheet of stationary with delicate pink and cream flowers in the corners. She held it between them so that Drake could read it at the same time.

Riley and Drake,

I hope that you and Bridget are all doing well and in as good of spirits as the circumstances will allow. I can only imagine how incredibly difficult this must be for you. 

In these bags, I’ve included the items you mentioned as well as a few more toys for Bridget and pieces of clothing that I thought would be suitable for when the weather gets colder. I know it isn’t much, but hopefully this will make your lives just a little more comfortable.

I also sent some pictures I thought you might like to have, both old and new. Whenever things get tough, just remember that you have people who love you and want the best for you and your family.

While this is probably the furthest thing from your mind, I want to assure you that I am not taking my position as Duchess of Valtoria lightly. I am setting up citizen meetings for the upcoming weeks. Judging by the protests outside of the estate, you have a lot of support still here, and when this is all resolved, I will step down if you would like to rightfully reclaim your titles.

I love and miss you both, and tell Bridget that Aunt Hana misses her, too. Maxwell said I should include paw prints from Anderson, Vera, Ellis, and Ilsa, but for the sake of the staff who would need to clean up that mess, I will just settle on saying they clearly miss you as well.

Keep safe, Hana

Riley twisted to look at Drake. She knew he would already be done since he was a faster reader than her. His face was very still as he stared over at Bridget’s crib. 

“Drake?”

He jerked his head over to look at her, giving her a very empty smile as he did so. “Your best friend is really something, huh?”

She frowned, trying to suss out how much she should read into that statement, but he kept his expression blank. When it became clear he wasn’t going to elaborate more, she settled on a light response, knowing he probably didn’t want to delve into things too deeply at this point. “She really is. But her assumption that we would be at all worried about our former titles is adorably naive.”

Drake let out a little snort of a chuckle, so Riley kept going. “Can you imagine us just rolling back to Valtoria after all of this and challenging Hana for the title?”

His smile became a little more genuine at that. “Well, being out of touch with reality is a common trait amongst the nobility. Maybe it would just be us finally catching up with the rest of them.”

She nudged him with her elbow. “Come on, let’s pack this stuff up and get some sleep.”

“Sounds like a plan, Walker.”

Riley stood up and offered a hand to Drake, tugging him to his feet as well. There was still a lot they needed to sort through and take care of, both practically and emotionally. She knew that. Even with everything given to them tonight, the months ahead were hardly going to be a cake walk, and she knew she would have to get Drake talking at some point. But for the first time in weeks, she felt true hope. Hope that they could make this work, that they weren’t two seconds away from failing their daughter and each other, that they were moving forward. And for tonight, that felt like enough.

Perma: @walkerswhiskeygirl @octobereighth @kimmiedoo5 @mom2000aggie

TRR/TRH: @iaminlovewithtrr @mskaneko @axwalker @jovialyouthmusic @marshmallowsandfire @kingliam2019 @sirbeepsalot @texaskitten30 @princessleac1 @ladyangel70 @debramcg1106 @masterofbluff @sarahx206

Drake/MC: @no-one-u-know @iplaydrake

FoF: @burnsoslow @bobasheebaby​

[mileycyprus-hill]

An unfortunate update on “Three’s Company”, my Charles x Arthur x Reader fic:

 I know many of you have been waiting patiently for part two of this fic, but after much consideration, I have decided to leave it unfinished. Instead I will post what I have created thus far and explain my reasonings. 

I was so excited to create this, but a while back someone had been anonymously messaging my ask box venting me their frustrations on someone like me writing a Charthur x reader fic. Apparently they have issues with me—a white married woman— writing a threesome fic including a black/Native American character. 

I have been answering them privately so as not to give them the attention they want because I don’t know if this person is trying to troll me. I can only say I’m sorry I angered anyone. I’m not trying to start drama and I certainly don’t want anyone to be angered. 

I want it to be known that I have a love for Charles Smith’s character the same way I love John’s character or Arthur’s, or any other character in the RDR2 universe: not for their skin color but for their character development and good looks that is not involved with their skin tone. I am not “thirsting after Charles simply because he’s black” or “fulfilling a white girl fantasy”, these are outrageous accusations. 

Once this person stopped, I returned writing Part 2. But for days, I have been sitting at my keyboard and have lost my desire to finish it. I wanted to create something romantic and fulfilling between these three characters. A polyamorous relationship, if you will. I wasn’t planning on just writing smut to “fulfill a white girl fantasy” as this person accused me of. I simply wanted to write a love story. 

So instead of leaving you in the dark, I have my unfinished work posted below as is. Despite the warnings I originally wrote, there’s no smut and it’s SFW, as it only contains the buildup and some notes I wrote for myself towards the end. I imagine this explanation will be met with criticism, but I just wanted it to be known.

This story is open to anyone who wishes to take over for me. I openly accept anyone willing to take this for their own and finish it. I just ask that you message me first for permission and give me credit for the original story. (Who knows, maybe in time I’ll return to it when I’ve reached a better place mentally and if no one finishes it.)

Thank you for reading. 

Three’s Company

Part 2 that leads to NSFW smut between you, Arthur, and Charles.

Summary: The three of you notice a particular tension growing between you, and decide to clear the air after an unfortunate event happens at the Rhodes general store. 

A/N: Boy, this took me long enough—only b/c I wanted a particular scene to be perfect. This is my first writing a threesome, so I only hope I did well. 

Warnings: Smut. And references to racial slurs from some a-hole Lemoyne Raiders. 

Part 1 here.

—————-

Charles wakes just before dawn and feels his hand resting on his chest. Blinking his eyes to clear his vision, he suddenly remembers what he did in the middle of the night.

Before rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he freezes and cranes his neck to look up to you from his place on the ground.

Was it a dream? It had to have been.

But it felt so real. Charles still feels the phantom of your heat lingering on his skin.

From below, it appears you haven’t moved an inch and you’re still sleeping deeply. Your arm still hangs from your shared cot with Arthur.

Speaking of, Charles quickly darts his attention from you and notices Arthur’s awake and rising up off the cot, stretching his arms out to greet the morning sun. Arthur’s joints pop and crackle while he loosens the tension in his muscles. His arms and back bulge from within his tight red union suit. A small patch of sweat darkens the fabric in between his shoulder blades. 

Arthur turns to Charles with tired eyes, squinting in the morning light. He greets Charles with a soft voice so as not to disturb you.

“Mornin’ Charles,” he yawns. “Sleep well?”

Charles stares into those blue eyes of his, becoming lost in thought. Those eyes, clear as the sky, look to him with friendly affection. Charles feels so guilty for taking such a small liberty with you while Arthur slept unaware.

Arthur stares back from across your sleeping form, curious about Charles’ hesitation.

Sensing the awkward, prolonged silence, Charles finally speaks, “Yeah,” he coughs, “for the most part. ‘Bout the same as sleeping on the ground anywhere else. But it’s at least dry.”

The side of Arthur’s mouth wrinkles with a lopsided smile and a dry chuckle rumbles from him across the way. 

“Yeah, well...You’re welcome to stay here ‘til we get you a new tent,” Arthur says. 

A gentle cough diverts their attention away from each other. They turn their heads to watch you wake and rub the sleep from your tired eyes. You groan in subtle pleasure while stretching your sore muscles and running your fingers through your hair, untangling any knots. 

“Guess I should get out there before Miss Grimshaw comes in here screamin’.” You state, beginning the day with a dreadful realization. You don’t even bother to say ‘good morning’ as it could quickly turn into a foul one at any moment. Turning behind you, you grab your shirt from the table at the head of your bed.

Charles had forgotten you slept in just your gray, form-fitting union suit. You always found it much more comfortable than a long nightgown or chemise that would bunch up throughout the night. The top buttons are all popped except for one, which holds the fabric just over your cleavage. That one small button, a dot of pale wood holds responsible for keeping your breasts covered. The same cannot be said however, for the perkiness of your nipples, which poke through like small pebbles under a cotton sheet.

Charles’ eyes are immediately drawn to those tips poking underneath the fibers of your undergarment. His throat suddenly feels dry and rough, and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows to calm himself. It’s a short-lived moment once you pull your shirt over your head. The little mountain peaks are now gone beneath another layer of fabric.

Which is lucky for Charles’ sake, lest you or Arthur catch him staring.

Normally you wouldn’t dare let the other men witness you dress and undress, but somehow you don’t mind Charles seeing. After all, if Arthur trusts him why shouldn’t you?

Arthur’s voice snaps Charles back to reality, and he draws his gaze away from you to his own boots. 

Arthur says to you, snapping his suspenders over his shoulders, “Well, maybe you can come with me this morning. Got a tip ‘bout a stagecoach and I could use some help...and I know how cooped up you’ve been in camp.”

While you and Arthur redress, Charles sits awkwardly from his bedroll as he slept the night fully clothed, as usual.

Your eyes lit up as you pulled your trousers on. “Really? You think Grimshaw will spare me?”

“I’m sure she can. She’s got the other girls to help out,” Arthur points. “We can even take our time getting back and help Charles find a new tent.”

Charles perks his head up at the mention of his name.

“You don’t have to do that,” he tells Arthur.

“Why not?” Arthur asks. “Ain’t much trouble. We can stop on the way back after we all finish it.” He waves a hand, referring to the three of you.

Charles eyes now widen and his forehead softly wrinkles in surprise, “You want me to come with?”

“ ‘f course,” Arthur says blatantly. “Lord knows I can’t do it with any o’ these hot heads,” he mumbles. “Including this one.”

He points to you and you react with a slip of your tongue past your lips, followed by a soft punch in his arm.

A tiny smirk grows on Charles’ lips and he replies, “Sure.”

————

After the job, the three of you rode back to camp in a flash. It was truly successful: a stagecoach of a wealthy plantation owner who had their valuables hidden in the seats of the carriage. Thankfully, you didn’t have to resort to killing anyone to get it. You had lassoed the driver off the carriage, leaving him with bumps and bruises, while Charles and Arthur interrogated the passengers into giving up their goods. It was Charles’ keen eyes that caught the odd stitching on the leather seats inside the carriage, and found the three gold bars in the stuffing.

You all rode hard and returned with adrenaline still surging through your veins and smiles on your faces. It was the best score you’d gotten in so long. A gold bar would be given to the camp, another for Charles, while you and Arthur share the last one.

Holding the heavy bar in your hand, you look to Charles. The smiles haven’t faded from either of your lips, and your cheeks already feel sore.

You say to him, “Charles, I wanna buy you the biggest stakes and canvas I can find. You deserve a big spot in camp after this.”

Dropping his chin and scoffing humbly at your generosity, Charles responds, “You don’t have to do that. I can afford my own.”

“Please,” you continue. “It’s the least I can do. I wanna thank you for being such a big help on this job.”

Charles tries his best to keep his composure after hearing your sweet voice. His heart hammers in his chest, and not from the adrenaline this time. You have shown him nothing but kindness since he’s joined the gang, and will go out of your way to make sure he’s content.

Arthur speaks up from behind you, “Best let her do it, Charles. She won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.” He chuckles.

Without turning, you quirk a brow at Charles. You hope to make him yield under your cool gaze. A drop of sweat trickles down the back of his neck behind his thick hair. The bead suddenly feels cold and sends a shiver to his skin.

Realizing his argument would be futile, Charles shakes and bows his head in defeat.

“Alright, fine.” Charles sighs. Lifting his head, he watches you smile as you relish in your small victory.

His attention darts over your shoulder to the source of a hoarse chuckle from Arthur.

“Good man,” Arthur laughs softly, to which Charles follows with a laugh of his own. 

————

You had stumbled to bed first early in the evening, thanks to a bottle of whiskey you were nursing. The opportunity to run into town was postponed ‘till the morning, as you all wanted to celebrate your achievement.

Charles waited for Arthur to follow you to bed, but the man would not leave his spot at the campfire. Charles felt self-conscious about being alone with you in the tent. He’d feel safer with Arthur nearby— though he couldn’t explain why.

He could just bed down in the scout shelter, but it was currently being occupied by Bill and Javier. Besides, his bedroll is still in your tent. He didn’t want to wake you and be asked why he was moving out.

Because he’s worried he can’t control his urges around you and Arthur? Yeah, that’d go over well.

He’d be better off sleeping out under the stars on the bare grass tonight.

He had half a mind to until Arthur slightly pushed his shoulder.

“Hey,” Arthur said. “Fallin’ asleep over there?”

Charles was so busy with his thoughts, he didn’t notice Arthur watching him from across the fire. The rugged outlaw must’ve seen his drooping eyelids and stepped over to check on him. Charles didn’t even hear his light footsteps, which were muffled by the soft Lemoyne clay.

Arthur’s broad shoulders brush against his as he sits down next to Charles on the dry log. Their soft cotton sleeves rub against each other and each of them feel the other’s chiseled muscles against their own for a brief moment.

Keeping his voice cool, Charles answers bluntly, “I’m fine.”

“Always a man of conversation, ain’t ya Charles?” Arthur teases.

An ‘I told you so’ is cried by Uncle across the way, who sits drunk beneath a tree.

“Just because you never have anything interesting to say, doesn’t mean I don’t either,” Charles quips to Uncle. 

Arthur holds a bottle of bourbon in his hand and brings it to his mouth with a dry, wheezing laugh. His plump lips wrap around the top of the bottle, gently slurping in the warm amber liquid.

Charles watches the large lump of his Adam’s apple bob as Arthur swallows the sip of bourbon. Wordlessly, Arthur hands Charles the bottle, offering it to him.

Charles obliges and takes a hefty swig of the smooth bourbon. It’s so warm, like a hot piece of caramel running down his throat, followed by a smoky aftertaste of maple. Heat flushes his cheeks and the feeling of his fingertips is numbed, along with his anxious thoughts. A wave of relaxation washes over him.

Arthur watches from the corner of his eye, noticing Charles relaxing and struggling to keep his eyes open.

He says to Charles warmly, “C’mon. Finish that bottle and head to bed with us...you ain’t gotta watch tonight, do ya?”

Shaking his head in response, Charles finishes the last tiny swig of bourbon and tosses the bottle into the fire. Those nervous thoughts are long gone and the memory of you sleeping soundly in your bed sends a warm feeling to his stomach.

Arthur continues, “Well, alright. C’mon then.” He pats Charles on his back, “Don’t want ya gettin’ ate up out here. The ‘skeeters are bad t’night.”

Charles follows him back to the tent and is greeted with your sleeping form on the cot, covered in a thin blanket. His heart flutters while he undoes his gun belt and kneels down on his bedroll nearby.

Arthur closes the tent flaps while Charles watches you sleep, undisturbed.

He whispers up to Arthur, who climbs in bed behind you, “You’re a lucky man, Arthur.”

“Thank you,” Arthur whispers, looking down at you with a loving smile. “I couldn’t ask fer a better woman.”

He tucks your hair behind your ear and presses his lips against the top of your cheek. A velvety groan softly rises up from your throat as you roll over to nuzzle your face into Arthur’s chest. An arm is tossed over his side and you cuddle him tightly.

The two men inside the tent chuckle softly in response and Charles lays back onto his bedroll, looking up at the ceiling.

He turns his head to the sound of Arthur’s quiet voice.

“You’re a good friend, Charles. G’night.” Arthur says.

“G’night, Arthur,” he replies with a smile.

“G’night, Charles,” your muffled, sleep-slurred voice calls from the comforting nook in Arthur’s arms.

—-——————

“Charles is a fine man, isn’t he?” You state, watching from your seat. 

“The best I’ve come across,” Arthur answers with his hand in his journal. He scratches away with the small lead pencil loosely gripped in his fingers, sketching what he sees.  

It’s quiet from your tent. The flaps are drawn up to let you watch the members of the gang go about their business. All is calm. The air gently rolls in to relieve you from the humidity. The birds chirp softly from their shady perches, and your eyes stay fixed on Charles.

Folding Arthur’s freshly laundered shirt, you continue, “I sure hope he finds someone.”

“What you mean?” Arthur asks, his attention still on his rough sketching.

“Oh...I dunno,” you reply, dropping a shirt onto the pile of folded laundry. “He doesn’t deserve to be so lonely like he is. I just hope he finds happiness.”

Arthur eyes you suspiciously, watching you fold his clothes onto a neat pile. He follows your gaze over to Charles, who readies a pile of fresh lumber to be chopped into firewood. Arthur watches Charles remove his rawhide vest before unbuttoning his crimson shirt to reveal his masculine form. His smooth skin glistens with sweat. 

Arthur never noticed until now how very little body hair Charles appears to have. His chest shines with a bright, welcoming sheen that promises to be warm...bold...and fulfilling. 

A sudden feeling catches Arthur by surprise. 

It’s not jealousy. No, far from that. 

A feeling of low self-worth is what it is, a blushing embarrassment that fills his stomach. For Arthur rarely gets jealous, but easily self-conscious. Could it be you have developed feelings for Charles?

Could it be Arthur feels them too?

Wait, what?

Arthur squints his eyes in confusion. He hasn’t felt this way since he first started courting you. That same flutter in his stomach that rises in his chest, he’s feeling it again. 

“Arthur?” you ask. You pause your folding and watch his vacant stare. His eyebrows furrow for a moment as if he’s in deep thought, until he blinks them away at the sound of your voice calling him. 

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Arthur coughs. “*ahem* Yeah, I hope he does too.” He rolls his shoulders to relieve the sudden tension that was growing. With a pop of his neck and a clear of his throat, he resumes his sketching. 

Your gaze doesn’t falter from Arthur, and he senses it. He feels you watching him with a curious look. The tension in his shoulders return and he struggles to draw in his journal under your stare. 

With a frustrated huff, he looks up from his journal. 

“What?” he asks, reserving his annoyance. 

“Nothing,” you reply cooly. A quirk of your lip shows a subtle smile that quickly melts away, but Arthur catches it. He recognizes that little mischievous smile that fleets within a second. 

It’s as if you already know. 

Could you read him that easily? 

——————

With a final strike of the axe and the tick of his pocket watch marking 11:00, Charles finishes his chore. Fixing the string that ties his hair back, he walks back to his trunk where his tent once stood. He grabs a clean shirt and his billfold, before stepping to the horse station to saddle Taima. 

......

A/N: (This is where I stopped, everything else here is the rest of the rough draft riddled with notes. The three of you head to Rhodes to help Charles get new tent supplies. He goes into the store on his own while you and Arthur wait at the saloon for him. Two Lemoyne raiders at the saloon decide to give Charles trouble while you and Arthur defend him. Nothing physical, just the raiders saying nasty things and Charles decides its best the three of you leave to avoid an altercation. Luckily, the sheriff shows up anyway to put the raiders in their place. )

After the Rhodes saloon.

(All three of you pitch Charles’ tent, an a-frame much like john’s.)

You and Arthur talk to Charles who is brooding underneath a tree after the three of you left.

You both tell him you admire him. Arthur places a hand on his right knee, while you place a hand on his left, just above his thigh.

Charles looks to you both in confusion.

......

“Charles? You ok?” You ask him softly.

......

“We love you, Charles. You know that, don’t you?” You say, bringing your face closer to his.

“Yeah, I know.” He answers, turning his gaze to you. He assumes you mean in a familial way. That is, until your lips brush against his. He gasps softly at your kiss and looks over to Arthur in shock and confusion.

Arthur looks into Charles’ eyes and tips his head in permission.

“I...I don’t understand,” Charles says.

[clansayeed]

Bound by Destiny ― Chapter 20: The Revelations

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny ⥽

Nadya Al Jamil (MC) has been struggling from the day she moved to Manhattan, but her new job as assistant to the mysterious CEO of Raines Corp was supposed to turn her luck around. Until she finds herself caught in the middle of a war involving the Council of Vampires who secretly run the city. An evil from the birth of Vampire-kind stirs beneath, feeding on the conflict, and finds Nadya bound to a destiny she never asked for.

Bound by Destiny and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Destiny tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

The danger is far from over. Tired of laying low Nadya and the others go on the offensive. Nadya, Adrian, and Kamilah go to the Musea Sanguis to confront the Trinity about the trial.

[READ IT ON AO3]

Adrian wants to be the one to take the risk but Kamilah forbids it. And when he goes to do it behind her back anyway she gets to it first.

“I wish you would just trust me sometimes, Kamilah. I know which members of my Clan will keep my secret.”

“It was a greater risk on your part. It’s done — leave it at that.”

The old phone vibrates in her hand. She glances at the first and only message it will ever receive before making quick work of snapping the SIM and tossing the battery and mobile in two different ponds.

“There’s a shred of luck in our favor,” she starts a brisk pace down the park path — doesn’t wait for Adrian and Nadya to catch up, “as they’re still in town.”

“Good — we can grab a taxi to their hotel. I don’t think we have to worry about one driver.”

“They aren’t at their hotel, Adrian. They’re at the Musea.”

Adrian mutters something under his breath Nadya can’t quite catch. But from context whatever it is it’s not a good thing. “So much for luck.”

“I’m inclined to agree. Despite his position in my Clan I’ve never found Jameson to be the most loyal.”

“He’s a good man, Kamilah. Maybe we can convince him that we’re only seeking justice.”

“I… I’m unsure of how he’ll respond.”

“Any chance we won’t run into him?”

“About as much chance as we would in the sunlight.”

The Musea Sanguis is a historian’s heaven and hell. Filled to the brim with artifacts and accounts from every period and civilization collected in one place not only for their study but also for their safekeeping. But unlike every other collection that would boast the same claims the one at the Musea is special in that it holds the mystical ‘truth’ everyone searches for.

Werewolf packs roaming the New World before Columbus ever stepped on her soil. Witches sealing deals with Marc Antony and Cleopatra. Vampire soldiers in every war and on every side. The Musea Sanguis told the tales forgotten and erased in the name of preserving the shadows and their secrets.

A necessary evil.

“So why would the Trinity come here now?”

Kamilah doesn’t answer; fixates on finding something hidden — a panel made to look like the white outer brickwork that slides aside to reveal a keypad.

Adrian shrugs. “Probably nostalgia; since the Ball brought them out of hiding. They’ve contributed to the Musea for centuries.”

“Wait — that doesn’t make sense.”

“The Musea is wherever the collection goes. New York is just its most recent home.”

Musea or not — Nadya had no idea she’d be able to cross ‘Break into a Secret Museum Within the Met’ off her bucket list. She’d have to add it first.

Kamilah punches in the final digit in a sequence and the maintenance door unlocks with a thunk of metal. The part of Nadya that was forced to endure the Heist of Monaco miniseries with Lily for thirteen hours straight knows this is too easy. Waits for something to jump out of the blackness when Kamilah opens the door and ushers them inside.

Or maybe life just isn’t a television minidrama.

The door closes behind them and darkness swallows them whole.

It’s beautiful, magnificent — ancient too but there are so many words she could use and Nadya quickly gives up trying to find them all because she’d need to go to another part of the gallery for a dictionary.

The temptation to stop and bask in the wonder of strange objects in glass cases is hard to ignore. Then she sees Adrian five steps ahead and rushes to catch up to his and Kamilah’s long strides.

There’ll be time to look at everything later. When everyone is safe.

“I can feel them,” Kamilah hisses; jerks her head towards an archway at the end of a turn, “quickly.”

The arch is rough and worn sandstone — as much an exhibit as anything under a podium or on a shelf. The exhibit’s wallpaper peels away from it; recoils from history it knows it ought not touch. If once there were engravings in the carved sides they’ve since faded with time.

Nadya lets herself indulge — brushes her fingertips along the porous surface as they pass.

“Peculiar, in fact, that as I stand before you and confess my intentions to rid myself of the pest Hydarnes, that a more loyal soldier would attempt to run me through for my wicked tongue. Yet there you stand; immobile.”

“Not immobile — Immortal. I know my place.”

“Ah, but that is the great lie. So called ‘Immortals’ walking among men… yet a blade would fell you as easily as it would a commoner.”

“Then you underestimate me, Augustine.”

“Perhaps I do, Valdemaras… Perhaps I do…”

“Nadya?”

She’s in two places at once. There’s the world in front of her; the stone pressing into her nails and feet rooted to the floor and Adrian and Kamilah turned back towards her with matching looks of confusion and worry.

Then there’s the archway; cut in sharp definition and painted vibrant to match the late King Cyrus’ famed conquests and with a familiar face glaring at her from across the room that both is and isn’t there.

She blinks rapidly — takes the choice away from her mind in where it wants to reside and forces it to focus on the here and now. To Adrian who is stopped before he can advance on her.

He looks down to Kamilah’s hand — confused.

“Let it be.” She doesn’t give him the chance to speak. But the look she gives Nadya is a knowing one. And isn’t that a big relief.

Kamilah releases him, gestures ahead. “They’re in the atrium beyond. Scout to see if Jameson is near. We won’t have long.”

Even when Nadya puts on her best ‘I’m not having strange visions I can’t explain and everything is fine’ face he doesn’t buy it.

“Are you…?”

“I’m okay. I promise.” Squeezing his hand. “Go.”

When he’s three bookshelves away Nadya goes to speak — finds herself silenced by Kamilah’s finger over her lips. They watch Adrian pass three more shelves and round a corner.

“What did you see?”

But it’s already fading — another in a long list of forgotten dreams. “It’s hazy…”

“Try Nadya, please.” And she doesn’t like the insistence in Kamilah’s voice only because it’s heartbreaking and there’s nothing she can do to stop it. “Breathe deep and try.”

She breathes. Breathes again, deep this time. Feels the gritty sand from the arch under her nails.

“It was… it was Valdas — or… his other name.”

“Valdemaras?”

Nadya nods. “Mm. Something about… I think I was him, again. I didn’t see him. Me. My face.”

But putting it into words is like painting without paint; or a brush or a canvas. She can mimic the motions and mouth words soundlessly but nothing is right.

“Come on. Adrian needs us.” She knows Kamilah and knows Kamilah won’t let it go. So she pushes the issue aside by evading the hand that moves her way and practically sprints to join Adrian around the corner. Leaves Kamilah behind only because looking back at her face is too much pain for her to focus on just then.

She comes to an abrupt stop when she turns and collides straight into Adrian’s back.

“Ow!” He doesn’t budge. More throbbing pain for her — hooray.

When the ringing in her ears stops Nadya catches a honey-sweet voice in laughter. It echoes off the domed ceiling and travels around the room like a malevolent breeze.

“There she is. Where Adrian Raines goes one can be sure his human toy follows close behind. But she isn’t all there is, is she? No… I can feel a familiar one close. Kamilah — surely you aren’t so naive as to try hiding. You’re better than that… or maybe you aren’t.”

But Kamilah isn’t hiding. She comes up right behind Nadya and coaxes Adrian forward with a hand at his back.

Isseya’s laughter continues from where she lounges on an old velveteen chaise; one of many such places to sit scattered around the vast and sparsely-filled room.

In fact as Nadya looks around there’s nothing to take up the decorative marble floor at all. The attraction lies instead in a dozen paintings hung on the walls. Each given a wide berth from the other.

Even with her glasses she can’t see the details of some at the far end of the gallery — but she doesn’t have to see them. She can hear them just fine.

Hear their voices, whispers, screams and cries of lust and loss rise and fall in tides. Hear to her left the clatter of steel and whinnying cry of warhorses as their hoofs pound a skull to dust. Hear to her right the rustle of thick curtained veils and the damp squelching of a dagger in the back.

Just as Kamilah comes beside her Nadya’s legs give way — stopped from collapsing to the ground only by the grace of Kamilah’s supernatural speed.

She claps her hands over her ears and opens her mouth in a silent scream. Feels tears sting her eyes and Adrian’s hands join in holding her up.

Their mouths are moving; her protectors trying in vain to find the source of her agony. She can’t hear a word over them.

“It seems you were right again, my love.”

Like someone’s found the dial in her mind the voices and their noises dim until they’re dull and in the background; a movie on in another room.

With bleary tear-filled vision Nadya looks up, up — focuses on the figure with his back turned to them. His attention unable to be ripped away from the painting as tall as he and a head more.

“How much did we bet?” asks Valdas in a calm echo. He turns and begins a leisurely stroll towards Isseya’s seat.

“Thirty-seven.”

“Shame — but I knew I couldn’t be wrong. I’ll be benevolent this time; you can pick my prizes when we return home.”

It takes everything inside her, which isn’t much left at this point, but Nadya musters up enough of her own voice to speak.

“Wh—What’s… hap-peni—ing… to m-mme…?”

The god-like vampire gives them a fanged grin. Isn’t fazed by anything so weak and unimportant as the snarls Kamilah and Adrian throw his way.

“Something wonderful.”

There’s a change in Adrian — she feels it first, is too slow to react — watches him rush the Trinity in a blur. “Whatever you’re doing to her, st—”

Valdas throws Adrian across the room effortlessly; waves his hand as if swatting a fly.

The younger vampire’s body collides into a stone pillar with a crunch. He falls to the ground limp but conscious. Struggles to stand.

“Adrian stop.” A shudder overtakes her as the voices crescendo again but Kamilah’s ready this time; holds her tight. “We did not come here to fight you, Domine. This is needless torture!”

Isseya snarls. “Is that sympathy, Kamilah? From you of all vampires? It’s disgusting.”

“She is an innocent.”

“She is beloved by that cur,” Isseya throws a gesture as Adrian struggles to stand, “and nothing he does is innocent.”

Her words fall flat as her lover rests his hand on her shoulder. “Isseya — calm yourself. Look in her eyes. She doesn’t know what she holds in her grasp.”

In silence something dawns on the wicked woman’s face — it falls into pity and scorn. “That’s her own fault.”

“I don’t disagree.”

Enough. It’s too much. Make it stop! “Make it-t stop, Kamilah, please…”

“Valdas!”

Whether he’s hesitating because he relishes her pain or because the idea of doing anything for Kamilah disgusts him — it doesn’t matter. Every passing second the voices and sounds clash and collide together and scalding pain stings at her temples.

Then a blink. That’s all it takes for the ancient vampire to cross the room and cup her cheeks in his large palms. She remembers now; recognizes the same face from the backs of her eyelids through the archway. The same features unchanged but now hardened by eternity.

“No!” Adrian cries. Nearly collapses in his haste to separate them but Isseya yanks him back by the throat with an almost feral grin. “Let go of — get away from her! Kamilah! Kamilah do something!”

She does. Looks into Valdas’ red eyes and sees something there Nadya can’t understand.

She doesn’t pull Nadya away from his grasp. Lets it be.

“Kamilah!”

“Trust me, Adrian, please!” And she asks the same thing of Nadya in silence.

Trust me. Please, trust me.

She does. Even when it feels like the noises around her are splitting her skull into fragments she does. When Valdas places two fingers on each temple she does.

There’s a vaguely familiar tugging in her gut — then nothing at all. No noise, no pain, no air on her face or sweat on her brow. There is blackness and a void and the feeling of blood pounding in her temples and roots growing out from the tips of her fingers and toes…

… then it’s gone.

Valdas stays close — she can smell the spice of his clothes. And something deeper than that… two thousand sheer veils hovering between them that she can brush away with a mere thought.

She can see the hall with her eyes closed; feel Kamilah and the leaden weight of her years and Adrian’s, too, the same but different in a way that can’t be defined. Nadya feels all the organs in her body yearning towards a brightness she can only call ‘devotion’ at the other end of the room.

So much blood, so bright…

But around her—around them—the world is empty. Dark and dim; filled with nothing but feathers that arrive on one wind and vanish on the next. The fragility of human life crumbling to a fine powder underneath their touch.

The moon was once bright but no longer holds the same appeal. In a world without cities or smog or the fake light of mankind there was once a forest bathed in the light of the endless stars. And in that forest there was a lover.

But that lover is gone now.

Right?

Nadya inhales and begins to plummet back down — flew up to the moon but wasn’t close enough to touch. Eternity rushes back within her, roots withered and dried and rotting away from her stems. The forest too gone in a single second.

When she opens her eyes the noises are silent. The hall is just a hall — startlingly empty for the crowd and clutter of the shelves they passed.

A rough thumb strokes her cheekbone and brings her back to herself. Causes Nadya to look up into Valdas’ golden eyes. She struggles to catch her breath.

Kamilah strokes her hair — tries and fails to keep the worry from her voice.

“Nadya — are you all right?”

She replies with a nod. Can’t — or maybe just doesn’t want to — tear her eyes away from the man before her.

“You’re so alone…” So many voices have tried to make a home in her head that Nadya doesn’t recognize her own right away. “You cling to what’s left but beyond her there’s… there’s nothing.”

Nadya reaches up and mirrors Valdas’ touch with gentle hands. “You’d rather wither as a corpse than live as a man. They’re the same thing to you; both empty and tired.”

“To know completion only to lose it was to be ripped in two.” Valdas says.

“But… having half of yourself must be better than nothing at all.”

“Such a way of thinking is mortal and beyond me. I wish it weren’t.”

“Eternity doesn’t settle for anything less.”

Her own words surprise her. That’s not Nadya’s way of thinking — it’s so pessimistic. But then again it’s not really her way of thinking now is it?

Valdas confirms the thought with an appraising look.

“Indeed…” His touch slides down her face — she’s seen what those hands can do; their violence. Yet he cradles her gently. “What I would not give for even a moment of your power.”

Power. It breaks the spell they’re under. Makes Nadya push herself away and back into Kamilah’s waiting protection.

She doesn’t have any power.

Hard eyes glance to where Adrian struggles desperately against Isseya’s impossible hold. The look she gives Valdas is pleading. Earnest.

The man waves his hand — silent permission given — and Adrian is at her side.

“What—did he—Nadya—I—”

She lets him know she’s okay with a touch. But that’s not what they came here to do. That’s not what they’re risking everything for. She’s risking everything for him and not the other way around.

“Why did you lie to the Council?” There’s no room for doubt; no room to oppose her. She knows — he knows that she knows.

She just wish she knew how she knew. And the confusion of it makes her skull want to crack open like an egg.

When Valdas doesn’t answer she tries his lover; “Why did you lie and say you weren’t with Adrian? You knew it would condemn him to death. What do you have against him?”

“Turn your accusatory eye elsewhere, little girl,” Isseya snarls, “perhaps to those you so vehemently protect. The best liars hide in plain sight.”

Adrian tenses. “How did I lie? Whatever Vega’s told you about the Ferals —”

“You think we care about a meager infestation?” Valdas barks a laugh; returns to Isseya’s side with a protective arm around her waist. “We’ve seen the likes of worse and weathered them still.”

“So this isn’t about the Council?”

“We couldn’t care less about you, them, or the problems you make for yourselves.”

“We’ve seen it all before.” agrees Isseya.

But Adrian’s struggling — refuses to let it go. “What you heard at the trial was lies; all of it. Vega fabricated it to point the finger at me. I… I don’t know why. I wish I knew why. But if you tell me why he made you lie then maybe I can figure it out.”

Adrian’s focus is on Valdas like he’s the one who makes all the decisions. But Nadya knows better — watches behind him as a peculiar expression melts onto the priestess’ features. She knows that look.

If it wasn’t for Adrian’s healing blood she’d probably still have bruises from that look.

“Wait —” it dawns on her slowly, “— were you there to testify for or against Adrian in the first place?”

Smart girl, says the glint in Valdas’ eyes.

“We were called to speak on behalf of the accused — on Adrian’s behalf. And when certain mysteries came to light we decided it was best to extend the same courtesy to him that was given to us.”

Adrian struggles to make sense of it. “What does that even mean? When did I lie to you? What—what courtesy?”

But it’s like the more questions he asks the more their silent rage builds. There’s a rope being pulled between them and every confused outcry Adrian gives is another slash of the knife. She doesn’t want to see what will happen when it finally snaps.

If she wasn’t still consumed with the raw feeling Valdas left inside of her — some parting gift, jerk — Nadya knows she’d be able to focus. But her insides are sandpaper and every breath, movement, thought makes them grate together.

Her only solace is that Nadya knows what that feeling is like. Felt it on her own level deep inside when she saw Lily losing her grip on the edge of her life. And again when she turned back against her better judgment to watch her friends leap into a Feral mob to keep her safe.

And again when Adrian was sentenced to death.

Eternity doesn’t settle.

The burning in her body is grief without an outlet.

How dare he. Innocent faces hide deceitful minds. How dare he. Our lifetimes are haunted by ghosts we dare not give names to — yet this is more. He is more. But dare we hope again after all this time?

Is it better to hope for a spec of eternity than to grieve for the entirety of it?

“I remember him fondly, Domine, though I would not dare to say my memory is worth more than yours. Strange, though, that Adrian would know nothing of you, your infamy, or your grief.

“And to weigh the bulk of his innocence on a creature that could very well be Cynbel’s reflection… We all saw it — even Kamilah felt haunted by his presence. You did the right thing Valdemaras. You did the right thing to he who would rather see you and your love continue to mourn than help you hope.”

Okay, so, whatever he did to her Nadya very much wants taken back — only because she’s not asleep and not hallucinating and both of those would be preferable to standing where she feels safest in the world yet somehow can’t escape the villainous drawl of Adam Vega.

Even if it answers a lot of unasked questions.

God, please let her be right about this.

“It wasn’t Adrian who lied to you. It was Vega.”

Adrian frowns. “Nadya, what are you talking about?”

“Just what I was going to ask…” growls Valdas in warning. She can feel the rumble of his voice deep in her own breast.

So Nadya turns her words — and attention — to Isseya. The uncontrollable hurricane. The coin of fate.

“Isseya, please. Think about it. You were so angry that night, right? I made you think about him — the one you lost — and you wanted to —”

“I wanted to rip you limb from limb and feed your organs in little pieces to the pond fish.”

Artful. And shudder-worthy. “E-Exactly. So I can’t even imagine what it must have felt like to sit in that trial and see Cadence. He looked just like him.”

“You saw it too…?” She asks in an almost broken whisper. Digs her nails deep into the meat of her lover’s upper arm; makes blood run down in thin strands that begin to drip-drip-drip on the white floor.

Nadya nods. “I did. And if I did then you can be sure Vega did with me. And I think he realized he could use your grief against you and for himself.”

Kamilah stays silent behind her. She doesn’t need to speak — Nadya knows; finally understands what her ominous warning was meant to serve as at Cadence and Katherine’s departure.

There’s a sliver of doubt, now — something hasty and makeshift to mend the fragile rope between them.

Isseya clings to her partner. “I told you, I told you…”

“I know, my love, but —”

“But that,” Nadya interrupts — and keeps going fast before he decides to do something irrational like snap her neck for her insolence, “right there. At the Ball you guys didn’t care who heard you but all of a sudden you were lying in front of the tribunal. You’re better than that — you said so yourself, Valdas.

“You don’t care what happens; to Adrian or to the Council. So why deny it so quickly? What do you gain from lying?”

The man grits his teeth. “If there is a point you ought to reach it. Quickly.”

Her heart begins to race. “Vega talked to you after the Ball didn’t he? He asked you about the questions you asked Cadence and then brought up all those painful memories of your lover, Cynbel.”

“Vega was an old acquaintance.”

“Pretty convenient timing though, huh?”

“He knows better than such insolence. We are —”

“No one cares who you are anymore!” And as the only one in the room with a pulse she really hates how hers keeps skipping every other beat. It’s just not fair. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you guys but the world moved on even if you didn’t. Nobody cares about the Trinity when there aren’t even three of you.

“Look at the facts, Valdas, please. Vega triggered your grief and — and used your hope, Isseya — to make you think Adrian was lying to you.”

“It… makes a modicum of sense.”

Kamilah steps out from behind her. Pensive thoughts and connected dots race through her mind. “If, through some means, Vega knew the man Adrian would call as his witness — knew the resemblance he bore — then it would be easy to reaffirm your doubts once the trial went in his direction.”

“And how would a youth like Vega know we would choose to deny your Adrian’s claims?” Valdas scoffs.

“Because he has moved on with the world, and knows we will always stay true to one thing.” Isseya relinquishes her bloody grip and coaxes her lover to meet her eyes.

“The rest of the world may burn but we will remain through the ages.”

Nadya, Kamilah, and Adrian watch the couple now enveloped in each other; gentle touches to eternal skin and one kiss in the wake of thousands — maybe even millions.

Adrian tries to advance — moves aside the hand she reaches out in warning — and moves slow and purposeful. Aware of the bloodshed just beneath the surface in front of them.

His sincerity makes his voice break. “I know what it’s like to love someone — and to lose them. How it never really goes away and… and how we have all these years to keep feeling the hurt. If I had even an inkling that your partner was still alive I would have done everything in my power to help you reunite.”

“See? Adrian isn’t capable of what Vega claims. He’s, well,” Kamilah looks him up and down, “he’s too damn soft, frankly.”

Isseya is the first to pull away. Keeps herself in the safety of Valdas’ embrace while scrutinizing Adrian and his words.

“I see none of the Godmaker’s ambition in you. Adam was always prone to bold and fantastical claims but that… that was a lie and he knew it.”

The Godmaker. Nadya doesn’t want to know. One problem at a time.

And speaking of problems — time is going to become one if they don’t start hurrying. She can’t let herself drown in the strangeness of what’s happening.

So here she goes. “The fact of the matter is Vega used you both. He used your loyalty to each other and I’d even say he used the memory of your partner to get what he wanted out of you and out of the Council.

“It’s despicable, and wrong, and downright evil. But he’s a career politician so I can’t even pretend I’m surprised…” Nadya shakes her head to get her thoughts back on track. “So please help us get back at him. Help us clear Adrian’s name and figure out who the real person at fault is.”

The couple exchange looks — Nadya’s actually sweating waiting for an answer. Then Kamilah makes… a surprisingly good point.

“If mortal altruism is not enough to spur you forward, then consider the state of your reputation should Adam succeed through manipulating you.”

That makes up their minds. If Nadya’s a little disappointed in them for it she doesn’t let it show. Something’s better than nothing.

At first glance it looks like Valdas’ focus is elsewhere — perhaps in the symbolic distance. Then Nadya follows his eyes across the hall to a painting alone in the far corner. Tucked away as if to be forgotten on purpose.

A dull throbbing starts in her temples. Not the same roaring pain from before but similar. The longer she looks the stronger it gets.

She doesn’t know how she knows; she simply does. Can hear it in the back of her mind the same way she’s heard everything else this night.

“What are the chances that this scrap of canvas will survive? Especially if you insist we leave it behind?”

“Do you not wish to see what will become of it, my dear? To see if it — like us — persists the ages?”

“A grand experiment for a later date. I have a meeting with Parliament at dusk.”

“Parliament will not rot from the inside after one day, Holy One. Stay with us. I beseech you.”

“You know how to tempt me so.”

“I may have an inkling after all these years.”

“And for the years yet to come.”

That’s why they came here. Nadya’s certain. Knows that if she runs across the room she’ll see two familiar faces and the one from the painting at Marcel’s castle. The Trinity.

Another familiar face, too. It lingers in the doorway at the far end of the room; silent, stoic.

She lets herself take in the gaunt features for what feels like the first time. Notes every inch of greying flesh and black veins pulsing out of throbbing temples disfigured with bumps like horns. Stares at lips peeled back and bitten off in the frenzy of hunger; the sharp and almost pristine tip of every fanged tooth.

The yellowing illness around bulging eyes. Pupils narrowed into slits. The way they tremble and struggle to hold her transfixed in their horror and, strangely, their splendor too.

She opens her mouth to speak. Breaks the spell they were held under.

The Feral lets out an unearthly howl and rushes in for the kill.

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Three Hundred Fifty-Four: A Small Notebook ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Uchiha Itachi, Hyūga Hanabi ] [ SasuHina, gore ] [ Verse: When Dead Walk ] [ AO3 Link ]

Quick, and quiet: that’s the name of the game.

It’s only been a handful of days since two duos became a quad. A few days since Sasuke was on a supply run in the nearby town, set off a booby trap, and ended up getting his ass saved by a woman wielding a shovel, of all things.

It...wasn’t his proudest moment.

But there’d been little time to think of pride when the pair took off together to escape the suburb, only stopping to be suspicious once they were safe. A shaky truce got Sasuke a ride home, and the Hyūga sisters a place to stay for the night.

After some discussion between Sasuke, Itachi, Hinata, and Hanabi...they decided that it would be safer to face the zombie apocalypse together. Many hands make light work, after all...even if it also means more mouths to feed.

And the first test their new team is facing is yet another supply run: mostly to help beef up their defenses, and ensure they won’t starve any time soon. Itachi and Hanabi have been dropped off at a hardware store to find tools, and anything else useful to fortify the farmhouse they’ve come to call home. Being in a rather business-driven part of town, there’s hope that it won’t be too crawling with walkers...given Hanabi’s youth, and Itachi’s frailty.

Thankfully they already set up a noise trap on the other side: a jammed car horn to draw any nearby zombies away, and hopefully keep them out of the survivors’ way.

It’s Hinata and Sasuke that are left to comb through houses in search of anything else they’ll need, but primarily food. Both fitter and stronger than their siblings, they have better odds at surviving a run-in with any undead. And given that the residential areas are far more crawling with them...they’re already on their guard when they pull up to the first house.

“All right...we’ll leave the car here and go on foot. Go down this street, cut to the next, and then circle back around. Primary objectives are food, clothes, ways to make fire...stuff like that. Try not to pick up anything too miscellaneous.”

“You talk like I haven’t d-done this before,” Hinata offers in the wake of Sasuke’s little speech. But her tone isn’t aggressive. “...sorry. I’m just nervous.”

“...worried about Hanabi?”

“...yeah.”

“Well, the faster we comb through these, the better. Shouldn’t take us too long, so long as we keep on our toes.”

Nodding, Hinata follows as Sasuke makes his way to the first house. Most places are unlocked, given the sense of panic most felt. Any that happen to be closed up tight get picked. He’s gotten rather good at it.

But their first target is wide open, and the pair immediately begin sweeping. Almost unspokenly, they split up, each taking one side of the first floor. Sasuke has a pistol with a handful of shots, Hinata armed with a knife. Not wholly ideal, but...it’s all they’ve got.

It’s Sasuke who finds the kitchen, opening up all the cabinets before beginning to go through them. Anything with long shelf life gets picked up first, slung into his backpack.

“Hey, I found a duffle bag.”

Glancing up, he considers it. Sure, they’ll be able to carry more...but it’ll also take a hand to carry. Maybe two if it gets too heavy. “...all right, we’ll take it for now. I guess if it gets to be too much, we can leave it and grab it next time.”

“Or leave it by the curb and throw it in when we d-drive by.”

He blinks. “...or that.”

Once the kitchen is thoroughly raided, they scope out anything else of use. Hinata already took a decent supply of clothes and spare cloth. But Sasuke finds a jackpot, unable to help a soft, low whistle.

“What?”

“Bow. And a decent quiver of arrows, too.”

Hinata steps up beside him, head tilted curiously. “You know how to shoot one?”

“I had a small one when I was a kid. Been a while, but I can relearn. And unlike a gun, it’s both silent, and reusable ammo...so long as the arrow doesn’t break. Easier to make new ones than a bullet, at any rate.”

“That’s awesome. I think there’s a s-sporting good store somewhere. There might be more.”

“Excellent.” Looping both the bow and quiver over his shoulder, Sasuke helps her finish the house before moving to the next, the duffle bag already full of food and left along the curb as Hinata suggested.

The next place is about the same. Food, clothes, but nothing else of real interest.

“Oh…”

“What?”

When Hinata doesn’t answer, Sasuke turns to find her with a small notebook in her hands. “...what is it?”

“...someone’s journal.”

“...I don’t think we have a use for it, unless the pages can be used to start the fires.”

She gives him a hint of a look. “...it’ll fit in my pocket.”

“Why?”

“...because they’re probably gone. Maybe I just w-want to read it.”

“...fine, whatever. Come on, next house.”

And so it goes until they reach the end of the block. By some miracle, almost every house has some kind of bag or suitcase that they also load up, hefting to the curb before they circle back around. By then, the afternoon is starting to grow old, and they quietly drive around the street before heading back toward the belly of the town to pick up their siblings.

“I can’t believe how much we got…!” Sasuke can’t help but muse aloud.

“Nice having a c-car, huh?”

“And an extra pair of eyes and hands, yeah. Thanks.”

“Guess it was a good idea to team up, huh?”

“...oh, shit…”

Slowing to a stop, Hinata stares with horrified eyes at the front of the hardware store. A small crowd of zombies is gathered, and over their grunting and yelling, they can both vaguely hear an alarm through the car door.

“...they must have gone into a room still wired,” Hinata muses, scrambling to get out.

“Wait!”

“For what?! My baby sister is in there!”

“I know that! But unless we do this smart, they won’t be coming back out alive. The windows and door are still intact. We have time. Now...we’ll each come at them from a side. Divide and conquer, all right?”

“..right.”

“I’ll take the left. Remember, they’re slow, so just keep your distance. Manage them one at a time as best you can.”

Not replying, Hinata gets out of the car, crouched and quiet. But even so, the undead and the alarm are far louder.

Leaving the bow behind until he can practice, Sasuke instead takes out a pair of knives, one in each hand. Never before has he been so glad to be ambidextrous. Heart pounding but breath calm, he circles around before finding the zombie furthest back. With a grunt and a thrust, he buries a blade into the base of its skull. Like a puppet with cut strings, it goes limp.

Out of sight of the rest, he isn’t noticed.

On the other side, Hinata begins doing the same, doing her best to be accurate and yet quick. The more they can take down from the rear unnoticed, the easier this will be.

She gets two, and Sasuke four before the rest begin to realize that there are more living, breathing humans behind them. Turning and reaching, they single-mindedly zero in on their new prey.

It’s a bit harder to kill them from the front. Eyes flickering across his targets, Sasuke braces a palm against a brow, his other hand digging a dagger into its temple before tossing it aside. Glancing behind to make sure he isn’t going to sandwich himself into more undead, he simply keeps leading them on, taking them out as he’s able.

Hinata likewise singles out one zombie at a time...but more of the group end up following her than they do Sasuke.

“Hinata!”

“I-I’m fine! Just keep going!”

Teeth grit, he starts going a bit faster, a bit riskier. Once his side is cleared, he goes to assist only to come up short.

Itachi has opened the door, peering out with Hanabi right beside him.

“Get into the car! Both of you! We’ll clear them out and then go!”

“Here!” Dashing across the gap with Hanabi under his arm, Itachi hands Sasuke something gun-shaped. “It runs off canisters - there’s a whole pallet of them in the rear. That’s what set off the alarm, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“Should we grab -?”

“We’ll worry about supplies once this mob is gone. I want you two in the car until they’re dead. No risks.”

Looking ready to argue, Itachi nonetheless bites his tongue, guiding Hanabi into the vehicle.

It’s then Sasuke looks to his hand. It’s...a nail gun?

...oh, this is gonna be good.

Armed, Sasuke sprints to Hinata, still with a decent crowd in her wake. Aiming, he fires a bolt into a head. The rotting flesh and bone splatters, and the zombie collapses.

The gun, however, is far from quiet, and most turn to the sound.

“Sasuke -?”

“It’s fine! Keep taking them out, we’re almost done!”

Resolve renewed, Hinata digs her blade into another skull, Sasuke carefully aiming and removing the rest, not wanting a stray nail to hit her. A mere two minutes later, it’s over.

...for now.

“All right. We gotta move. Let’s grab what they found, and head out.”

“Is that a nail gun…?”

“Yeah. I’ll get some more nails and air canisters. You grab the tools. All that ruckus is gonna draw in any stragglers, we can’t waste any time.”

Between the two of them, they manage to load up a box of nails and air each, along with various tools for construction, landscaping, and what can very well be used as weapons. By then, a few more dead begin to wander in, and they retreat to the car.

Hinata slips into the driver’s seat, revving the engine and carefully moving out of the lot, not wanting to damage the car or make any more noise than they must. A few undead slap at the doors on their way by, but a few minutes later, they’re in the clear.

“...well, that wasn’t too bad,” Itachi notes jovially, earning a look from Sasuke in the back seat.

“You were almost overrun -”

“But we weren’t. And by the looks of things, we all did well. In the grand scheme...that was a very good run. And we learned something for next time.”

Sighing...Sasuke doesn’t have a retort.

It’s mid afternoon when they return, everyone helping to unload the supplies into the house. Itachi was right. It’s a damn good haul, all things considered. Beyond the rogue alarm, it went about as smoothly as they could hope.

They eat a decent meal of noodles and canned vegetables, telling stories of their lives before the fall as the sun sets. Once they’re full and tired, they begin to retreat to their rooms.

Hanabi heads upstairs, Itachi rolling over on his makeshift mattress. But Hinata and Sasuke sit by the fire, quiet. And eventually, he notices that she’s reading the journal.

“...anything interesting?”

“Mm...no. Just...typical life things,” she replies, still reading. “...and yet it seems so...odd to read it now. Given...everything.”

“...yeah…”

“...it’s actually pretty empty. I think...I might start writing in it.”

“Yeah?”

“...yeah. Leave my own mark. Maybe when I’m gone, someone else can read it. See how things have changed. If...there’s anyone who comes after me.”

It’s a sobering thought. While Sasuke can’t really see the point...he can tell it means something to her. “...all right, then. Do it. Maybe one of these days you’ll write about how much better off we are, once we’re all settled in.”

“...I hope I do.”

                                                     .oOo.

     (This is a sequel to days 197, 270, and 323!)       More zombie AU! I haven't done much of this one, and not for a hot minute. I used to be majorly into zombies, but not so much anymore...so forgive me if I sound rusty lol. I'm also not too good at action or gore...maybe I shouldn't write zombies xD      But a wee bit more of our group's tale. Hopefully it was interesting! I can see Hinata being a bit sentimental about this sort of thing. Sasuke...not so much, haha~ But at least he relents for her.      Anywho, it's bedtime now, so that's all for tonight. Thanks for reading!

[versuswhitescar]

Malam Manor

We all grow up with that once upon a time, crap. When you're little, you believe it. Who believes it as an adult? I mean, really? We have smartphones, rumbas, and clap on lights. No one meets a 17-year-old vampire who supposed to be 52. But I have, and I found his tapes by accident. Now I'm living a filliping ounce upon a time that Anne Rice would drool over. If I don't find the f-ing cave his sister is trapped in, I'm going to be enjoying a lot less sunlight for damn sure.

I know if I could figure out the details, I'll find the cave. And the murderer and maybe be spared, or I fail, and I'm the next Elena Gilbert. I sure hope not.

I'm just a damn tutor who needs money for her master's degree. Why did I even think that posting a flyer online was a good idea? Hell, my only tinder date turned out to be a 300 lb guy catfishing for a date to his sister's wedding. I stupidly, no innocently thought I'd get some pimply high school sophomore struggling through R and J and Shakespeare word salad.

Man, was I wrong? Mr. Cain Haywater answered my ad. Normal name for an average guy, right? Well, who the hell names their kid after the first murder in the Bible, but I'm getting off track. My ancient 98 jeep with more rust than metal is not going up the hill to the "Malam Manor." Later I Google it and turns out the word is Latin for bad. I should have asked Siri sooner. Too late, Cain Haywater a ward of the state. Because he's 17 and wicked rich is paying me 50 bucks an hour to help write his family's history.

This house is unusual in ways I can't even begin to describe. Its windows seem to follow you like eyes while I rev up the circle drive. The brick looks like it's from out of the Hogwarts rejection pile. The height makes it at least three floors, and there's a damn covered entry that carriages pulled under in the 19th century. Besides the semi-creepy outsides, even though it looks well maintained, I'm coming here close to 9 pm. Ounce, the sun is down on the hottest July night in history. I should have done a business major instead of English lit. Follow your bliss, my mom said. What does she know she's a nail tech for the last 12 years. She probably has brain damage from the polish fumes.

I can't imagine anyone hears my lame knock at the gigantic door. But I swear to God it seems like a cat or something opened the door. I thought maybe the heat melted my brain, but it looked like a fuzzy ken doll. It darted behind a curtain. Before I could investigate Cain, hold my breath beautiful, Haywater stands ten feet in front of me in his large foyer in black jeans, skin-tight grey shirt with a badass blue tattoo that seems to have a deep center that radiates over his forearm. I'm shook in so many ways I can barely speak "Nyx, Nyx Jackson?" My name never sounded so smooth coming out of any humans mouth ever. That was when my brain should have clicked over to reality that he wasn't human. He hadn't been human since 1989.

Sadly only 2 hours into my best tutoring gig ever, I discovered Cain Haywater was indeed a real vampire. And his beloved twin sister Danielle, Dani, as he referred to her, was just as dead only traped in a watery caved transformed into a rusalka for the last 34 years. I was Cains's last chance at finding her cave and the wort boyfriend a girl could ask for. Jefferson Granton. A 200-year-old vampire that he needed to kill. My life wasn't fair and only made worse by the fact that I'm sure I'm going to fail, and my last meal was crappy ramen.

It was my stomach and too much curiosity that made me start playing with the vintage tape recorder Cain had on the black walnut desk. He heard my growling belly and while he searched for food. I pressed play. Big mistake, I'm not sure where he went to kill the food, but I listened to almost one side of a cassette tape. The quick spark notes, once he came back with cheese, apples, and fancy crackers to catch me, went fast.  

Back in May of 1986, he and his twin sister were graduating from Xaiver highschool. Somehow she latched on to an older college guy that wandered into town on a semester off to find himself. Jefferson Granton was mesmerizing, according to Cain, tall blond lovely to look at and even more interesting to listen to. He swept naive Danni off her feet on a cross country trip. He had a long term plan. One he had been cooking up for at least 100 years when Cain's family made a fortune in lumber and now stocks.

Jeffy boy started life as Jacarde Gulomar in the Brittany region of France. He accepted the gift of eternal life from a Norse vampire who wanted a mate. Jeff never entirely made his fortune and became a bad luck symbol for the covens all over Europe. Eyes on the new country to the west, he hopped a ship and arrived to wonder the grandness of the US just after the civil war. Comming upon early decedents of the Haywater clan. William Percy Haywater knew the deal equipped each member of the family with a hawthorn stake, holy water, and a warning against a freshly minted newly named Jefferson Granton.

No one fell for him until Danni, with all her beauty and openness, fell in love, and became a target for her trust fund. By the time the twins were 17, their parents were dead at the fate of a drunk driver, and a deaf Aunt looks after them. Danni fell under Jefferson's spell forgetting all caution to follow to the whispering cave. Now oddly in the middle of the mind-melting story, a flash caught my eye, and I met the grandfather like ken doll Cain shared his mansion with.

Pere was a domavoy who kept Cain and Malan safe as much as he could. Cain respects and adored him, so I was polite. Over the next three weeks, I moved in search their land every day when Cain joins me and feasts on Pere's cooking skills. His little face sparkled at each new dish he made for me after decades of blood bags. On steamy Saturday, July 31st, I finally found, or more fell into the mouth of the cave. Much of Cain's memory was erased on the night he watched Jefferson murder Danni while he hogtied in the corner of the damp cave. Only to meet a fate worse than Danni by forcefully being turned and compelled to kill and drain his Aunt of all her blood. Jefferson helps smooth it all over with some compulsion and tricks, but Cain secured his wealth in the next few days only to vanish. He picked a small fishing village in Maine, where he met Gabriel 100-year-old vampire who taught him to live and gave him advice on how to avenge Danni. Gabriel's plan centered on Cain coming home as his namesake's son Cain Haywater II. The mansion and his tie to Danni or Cain's greatest strength. It was clear why Jefferson failed to control them.

The night I stumbled into the cave, I wore my Danni look-alike costume Pere helped me pull together. I looked like a backup dancer on a Wham video. It was. It was to trick Jefferson, but oddly I caught the attention of another creepy creature a leshii in the woods. I thought it was Cain because the voice fit, and I felt drawn to the being. Only when it had led me halfway across the land did I catch a glimpse of its eyes. Pure white scalaris was not a hint of iris or pupil. Taking off back towards the cave, I felt two forces moving me one I can now sense with Cain, and the other I was damn sure was Jefferson. He'd been down a rough road probably because, in life, he was a bit of a narcissist. Only to have that enhanced by his Vampire Life, he thought I was Danni, and he'd Follow Me to Hell to get that money. Once we made it to the rippling silver pond within the cave, I laid eyes on Daniella. My wham costume was a joke compared to her beauty.

She swept as close to us as possible, shouting silently in my brain to turn now. Cain stands between me and Jefferson stake in hand slowly I fell to the wash of a cool breeze flowing over us which I knew mixed with my warm body temp to engulf Cain it was in that moment I saw the vague outline of a man just like he left a speakeasy in 1926. He became more gas-like to almost solid, yet I could still see right through him. He is handsome except for that visible gunshot wound to his right Temple. Why was I surprised that we now have a ghost to add to the mix. Pere spoke of the cave as whispered he claimed someone took their life after the 1920 stock crash here he was with eyes for Danni.

The extraordinary power Cain had wasn't just his home or his connection to his twin. It was that he could feel loved. He survived and lived by keeping his Humanity. I saw beautiful sparkling Jefferson with his flowing blonde hair realize it too. Cains power made the cave hum Jefferson was cocky, and that was very clear. He charged expecting to deflect the steak easily, but with Danni's strength and God help me my feelings for Cain. He drove the stake straight and true into Jefferson's lean chest.

Before I can blink Cain without a blade from his boot and with incredible strength severed the head like clockwork Cain without a new Zippo lighter and flicked it on to Jeffy. Making a roaring vampire candle. Can quickly turn to glance behind making a connection with Danni. "find your bliss" I heard in my head, and I knew Cain heard it too. The 1920s gentleman back into Danni as they drifted further back into the cave. We're only water held the floor we stood still.   "Nyx?" his velvet voice floated over me. I can only gape open mouth, watery eyes, and some snot beginning to flow. At that moment, my stomach rumbled loudly. He smiled a genuinely genuine smile with all the years that he waited. I knew without any doubt Cain Haywater would be in my future Tech probably my whole life, and I smiled too.

Let me know what you think and If you want more 

[thorofasgard007]

Casting my WIP:  “Blade of Penance Volume I:  Bore of Great Sacrifice”

Haven’t posted anything in a while thought I would put up a fun game for us aspiring authors out there.  My first draft nears completion.  Just a the final fight, “mop-up” and a couple appendices to write.  Hoping to be done this week while I am on vacation. *fingers crossed*

Anyway, I saw a YouTube video posted by an authortuber I follow named Kim Chance where she went through the dream casting of her newest book Seeker (soon to be released here is the video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q5Rmhm8HhE8).  I was thinking while I was running some errands earlier today I should do something similar.  If my novel(s) ever get made into a movie whom would I cast as each character?  So I decided to post that here and see what other authors/aspiring authors would cast as their characters.  Name the character, a brief description of them, then the actor/actress and why you would cast them.  

Here are the rules:  #1)  You have to use the actors/actresses as they are TODAY.  No using “Early 80′s Arnold” or Clint Eastwood like he was when he played Dirty Harry.  It also goes without saying you can’t use actors that have retired from acting or passed away.  #2)  If there is a seminal movie/tv show in your genre you cannot use actors from that franchise.  Since this rule can really make things difficult you can use up to TWO exceptions to rule #2.  Since my WIP is epic fantasy both actors from Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings movies and Game of Thrones are disqualified.

Okay here we go.

Dorath:

The father of my hero Kaaldor.  A former general and hero of the Battle of Gos.  The last scion of the House of Dranus who’s progenitor alongside Ka’Reyus The Elven Warrior King lead the Great Liberation against the Dragon Rule of Rab Yangin 500 years ago.  Few either human or elf could match his skill with the blade save maybe one.

At first I thought of The Most Electrifying Man in Sports Entertainment:  Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson.  I even used his physique as a bit of a template when I was doing up his character model.  However in the end I thought he should be cast a bit younger (Don’t hit me with the People’s Elbow Rock.)

Therefore I will use one of my exceptions early and go with Aquaman, aka Kahl Drogo, Mr. Jason Mamoa.

Ka’Reyus:

The Elven Warrior King and Grandfather to my hero.  Unquestionably the greatest warrior alive.  Has gone unmatched in swordsmanship for over 500 years.  Single headedly fought and slew three dragons at once.  Him and Dranus (Dorath’s ancestor) tag-teamed to slay the corrupted dragon lord Rab Yangin to free the continent of Kalis from drake rule.  Is Dorath his equal as a warrior??? SPOILERS :)

For him I batted around a few choices including Liam Neeson and Russel Crowe of course cgi would have to be used to size them down because as an elf Ka’Reyus was only 5 feet tall.

I finally decided on Wolverine himself (aka Jean ValJean, aka PT Barnum) Hugh Jackman.

(Yes this is an older pic... but I wanted one of him as Wolverine :) )

Princess Almelphia:

Mother of Kaaldor.  Only child of Ka’Reyus.  The unchallenged beauty of Elvendom.  All the nobility compete for her attention not only for her beauty but that whomever she chose as her husband would be the likely successor to the elven throne.  She is also is the only member of the royal house with any magical ability, even though it is just limited to reading the memories left behind on things/people that she touches.  While my hero was growing up she always called him her “little champion” and he did everything he could to live up to that title.

She was a tough choice.  If I wanted to use my second exception I would have chosen The Khalessi herself Emilia Clarke but considering Jason Mamoa is Dorath… that may be a little much.  I also considered Miranda Otto (aka Eowyn) but again didn’t want to use my second exception.  Therefore I decided to go with Jenna Coleman aka Clara Oswald from Dr. Who, and Queen Victoria on Victoria.

Here she is from the “Robin Hood Episode” of Dr. Who so you could see how she would look in a fantasy setting.

Ka’Vatch:

Lifelong friend of Ka’Reyus and Elvul Ka’s(the elven nation’s) foremost smith.  Him and Ka’Reyus both learned their weaponry by working his father’s forge.  Growing up Kaaldor learned from Ka’Vatch at the same forge.  To be a great warrior you must both know your weapons and then know yourself.  The weapons part started with Ka’Vatch after an 8 year old Kaaldor hid in his smith from bullies that didn’t like that he was half human.

For him I thought about Michael Ironside.  Granted you usually see him as a bad guy (and he plays a great villain, especially with his voice work... if they ever do a live action version of Darkseid they should have him reprise the role from his voice work on Superman: TAS etc).  However age is a factor.  Therefor I chose Josh Brolin aka Thanos… aka Cable.

Ka’Draoi: (pronounced Ka’ DREE, gotta love Gaelic)

Grand Thaumaturge of Elvul Ka’ and one of the world’s most powerful wizards.  He draws his power from the Blue Flame like all elves and fought along side Ka’Reyus and Dranus in The Great Liberation.  Being such a long time friend of the king he can often get away with breaches of proper decorum and has been known to have a bit of a ...shall we say “unique” sense of humour.

My original choice for this role was of course Sean Connery... but he has been retired from acting for some time.  I thought about Terrance Stamp (aka General Zod from Superman II, my all time favourite movie villain) but decided against it.  I didn’t want to use another exception or to be seen as him being a Gandalf clone so no Sir Ian McKellan.

In the end I chose another James Bond Pierce Brosnan, he can command the regal presence and wisdom Ka’Draoi needs, plus have the comic timing to pull off the sense of humour needed.

Ok.  That covers Kaaldor’s family and the elves.  Now lets move on to some more human characters.

Admiral Jagaran:

He is the Admiral of the Palan fleet (the main villain nation of the story) and in command of its new flagship The Jorgmundr (a ship completely made of dragonbone).  He is a very skilled warrior, especially at see and a cunning strategist.  He always takes the most straightforward path to victory whether it is an honourable choice or not.  However he has been known to let his ego get the better of him.

My first choice was Peter Wingfield.  Highlander fans will recognise him as Methos from the 90′s Highlander TV series.  (As a point of trivia I watched some of Methos’ sword fights on the series to map out some of this character’s move sets).  However he has apparently retired from acting and at last report was pursuing a career in medicine.

So instead I went with Rome’s Ray Stevenson, he has been in many other things but I mostly know him as Titus Pullo on Rome, Volstagg from the MCU and as Frank Castle in Punisher: War Zone (I should dust that one off I haven’t watched it in a while)

Anonyus:

The Mage assigned to the Jorgmundr.  Although he technically outranks Jagaran as he is a mage his role on the ship is similar to that of a “political officer” on the old Soviet ships.  He is your classic sadist that makes King Joffrey and Reese Bolton look like boy scouts.  He prefers to invoke fear in his adversaries of what he may do than to actually inflict the pain.

For him I went back to the MCU and chose Tom Hiddleston, aka Loki.  I just love him as a villain.

(Point of trivia... he originally auditioned for the part of Thor... go fig because he was so good as Loki.)

Armorton:

The chief slave-driver on The Jorgmundr, and a sadist son of a... gun (trying to keep this PG) in his own right.  He takes perverse pleasure in publicly and brutally executing slaves that can no longer work in the bowels of the ship... or just make an example of.  As he is more a hand to hand brute than a swordsman I went with a wrestler/actor for him.  Dave Bautista from Guardians of the Galaxy (gee I am pulling a lot from the MCU) and Spectre, also a former WWE Champion.

Ok... let’s get away from the villains for a bit.

Dex:

The classic dashing rogue.  Thinks he is “the pyres” gift to women and even names his lockpicks after his conquests.  Never met a maiden he didn’t want to hit on.  Or a full coin-purse he didn’t want to cut.  Always ready with a witty retort but also willing to help when he sees something unjust.  Kaaldor sometimes sees him as his best friend... and other times wants to punch him.  But they somehow make it work as they defend the village of Belieret from the warlord Tyv.

This character needs the comic timing that only Ryan Reynolds can provide.  I have been a fan of his since he was in Blade: Trinity (not as bad as everybody says) and he was dead on casting as Deadpool.

Klok:

A Baegian merchant that is one of the few in Belieret willing to learn how to fight to protect his new home.  His own brother betrayed him when the Baegian King became a vassal for Q’Rab The Sorcerer King of Palis and Klok began to speak ill of the new regime.  He couldn’t let hit happen again with Tyv.

I have chosen a bit of an odd choice.  A TV actor named Alimi Ballard.  He has been on many TV shows but I mostly remember him as David Sinclair on Numb3rs.

Ok lets do some more villains then we will go for the Hero and Heroine.

Tyv:

The warlord that is pulling the old extortion racket on the village of Belieret.  He blames Ka’Reyus for ***SPOILERS***.  Little do the villagers know he is just a cog in the machinery of one of Q’Rab’s plans.  In the meantime he plans to take his revenge on Ka’Reyus by sending him Kaaldor’s head.

For this I am going cast Clancy Brown, mostly because he played my #2 all time favourite movie villain The Kurgan in Highlander.  You would also recognise him from The Shawshank Redemption and Starship Troopers.  He as also done a lot of voice work, including Lex Luthor for Superman: TAS, Savage Oppress on Star Wars: The Clone Wars and Mr. Krabs on SpongeBob SquarePants (lol).

Hespera:

Apprentice to the Sorcerer Q’Rab and Master/Mistress to Anonyus.  She suffers no failure and many of her apprentices have felt her wrath.  None have lived to tell the tale.  Her vanity is her weakness and although devoted to Q’Rab for centuries she has been known to have her own machinations to undermine his plans.  You only briefly see her in the first book... but I plan to have her take a much larger role in book 2.

For her... if she is willing to be a redhead my first choice is Wonder Woman herself Gal Gadot.  She can be both regal, the flirt to ensnare men but then switch gears to be something menacing all at once.

(come on I had to choose a Wonder Woman pic... all the world is waiting for you... and the powers you possess :) )

Q’Rab:

Sorcerer King of Palis and has ruled for over 200 years.  He draws his power from the Black Flame and rarely gets his hands dirty himself but is always a Master of Puppets pulling strings from afar.  All under his rule are fanatically devoted to him.  Whenever he is mentioned they finish the sentence with “May his reign be eternal”.   It has yet to be determined who is the more powerful wizard if him and Ka’Draoi were to meet in a duel, and the true goal of his plans while he is at war with the nation of Corlot are ****SPOILERS****.  His origins are ***SPOILERS***.

For him I went with a bit of an odd choice, I needed a classical type of actor but one that wasn’t your standard English baddie.  I went with Alexander Siddig.  While best known as Dr. Bashir on Star Trek:  Deep Space Nine, he also has a long movie and TV career including 24, Gotham on the small screen and Kingdom of Heaven and The Nativity Story on the big screen.  If he can pull off both The Angel Gabriel and Ra’s Al Ghul he can pull of Q’Rab.  (Note:  As he was also Doran Tyrell on Game of Thrones... he is my second exception)

Ok... you are saying enough with the villains.  Fine lets get to the main event.  My hero and heroine.  First the Heroine:

Renna:

Daughter of the captain of The Divine Lady, the ship that Kaaldor is a passenger on when The Jorgmundr strikes.  While able to fight for herself knows when she is out of her depth and instead fits into the facilitator role to get Kaaldor what he needs to win.  She can also act as the diplomat to Kaaldor’s brute force as she knows not every problem can best be solved by the right amount of smashing.  She is not the damsel in distress like Lois Lane that always needs a Superman to rescue her, but she also knows she doesn’t have to be Xena to be strong either.

This one was a hard choice... The aforementioned Jenna Coleman was a strong contender at one point.  I also considered Rosa Salazar (loved her in Alita Battle Angel) however in the end (maybe because I just did a binge watch of Cobra Kai over the Labour Day Weekend) I chose Mary Mouser (Samantha LaRusso on Cobra Kai).  Her look is the right combo of innocence, beauty and strength which is what you need to play Renna.

Finally.

Kaaldor:

The hero of the story.  Half-elf and half human.  Trained by his grandfather since he was eight years old to be a warrior without equal.  He was even able to fight Ka’Reyus to a draw.  Though of the elvish royal family very few fully accept him as part of elvish society.  He can never let an injustice stand and sometimes gets himself deep in a bad situation by acting without thinking.  But still is the one willing to act when others are too scared to.  In the end he must complete his quest to ***SPOILERS***

For him I originally thought of Daniel Cudmore, I best remember him as Colossus in X-Men 2 and X-Men 3 (boy did three SUCK).  However in the end thought a Hemsworth was a better fit.  Not Chris (Thor)… but Liam (Expendables 2, The Hunger Games).  (Note:  He will probably have to bulk up a bit as when I wrote the character I was thinking “Early 80′s Arnold”)

Well There you go... It was a lot of fun going through this.  For all you authors/aspiring authors out there... lets see your own lists.  Use the Tag below. :)

[themoonandotherslikeit]

The Look in Her Eyes- Chapter 33

***While on a case, Dean and Sam meet a beautiful woman, Ava. She makes a large impression on the brothers, and ends up convincing them to take her on the road with them. It isn’t long before the shared experience, car rides, motel rooms, and risky cases pushes Ava and Dean together in an unlikely story of love, family, fate, and friendship.***

Chapter Thirty-Three, Her Hair Tie

Dean

Thirty Weeks Along

"Morning beautiful." I said with a yawn, draping my arm around Ava's large mid section. She turned to look at me. Her mouth was a gaping black hole, stretching and turning, the gray sunken skin on her cheeks morphed, her empty eyes looked towards me, but nowhere at all. I flinched and closed my eyes.

"Mmm. I'm so sleepy."

When I opened my eyes again she looked normal, beautiful, and sleepy. We were out of time. I could feel the hell hounds licking my ankles already.

Our plan wasn't ideal. Ruby found out that Lilith was on vacation.

"What does a demon do on vacation?" Ava asked, folding her arms across her chest.

"Trust me, you don't want to know." Ruby said flatly. "But her guard will be down. It's our best chance."

"Do you know where she will be?"

"I'm working on that."

Any day now I was toast. It had been 24 weeks. We were using any precaution to keep the dogs away from me, but there were only so many herbs. There were only so many ways to push this off. It was happening. Maybe it was time to say goodbye.

"Dean?"

"I'm sorry, did you say something?"

She closed her eyes. "I said, I think I need glasses. My pregnancy vision is getting really bad."

"You'd look cute in glasses." I held her cheek, rubbing circles with my thumb. "Like a sexy librarian."

"You wish."

"I do." I said kissing her lips. She was warm and familiar. She tasted like sleep. Like home.

"God, put your dick away." Ruby groaned. "We found Lilith."

Ava and I sat up and looked at each other. Shit. Here goes nothing.

"We are leaving in 10." Ruby said before stomping out.

"I guess I'm out of here." I said, kissing her temple. I swung my legs over the side of the bed.

"You're? I'm going."

"No, you're not. We don't have time to argue."

"You're right, we don't." She said in frustration.

"I can't risk you getting hurt." I said, glancing at her.

I slid into my jeans, and clipped the button.

"And I'm not ready to say goodbye. I can help."

I frowned. They didn't tell you about this part when you get married. It's all flowers and kisses on your wedding day. They don't tell you that your wife will want to walk into the fire next to you. Stubborn woman. She was obviously made for me. I turned to her, grabbing her face in my hands. "You will not die for me. Do you hear me? You can come, but the moment it gets hairy you get out of there." I stared into her crystal blue eyes. "You have to keep Peanut safe, because I can't."

She softened at this, and she nodded. "Kiss me."

"Always." I pressed my mouth to hers urgently. I wanted more time. Even though it was a long shot, I needed this to work.

Ava

Liliths vacation spot was only a few hours away. Dean seemed distant, fiddling with his wedding ring, and looking out the window. He was in the back seat with me, claiming sarcastically that we could fool around while Sam drove. The reality, though, is that there was something going on inside his head. I saw the way he looked at me when I woke up that morning. He was afraid.

"Hey, feel." I said, pressing his hand to the space above my belly button where our baby was kicking away.

This seemed to relax him, the wrinkles in his face relaxed and his head dropped to look at my belly.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. I'd been fighting a hell of a headache in the last week, and I hadn't mentioned it because, fuck we had other problems.

"So what's the plan?" I asked Sam and Ruby.

"We will have to take her off guard." Ruby said, pulling into the neighborhood, it was twilight.

"So let's just go in. She won't expect it." Dean said flippantly.

"Oh, please." Ruby said. "See the mail man? How frequently do they deliver this late in the evening?"

I turned to look at who she was referencing. "He is a demon?"

"And the man who has been watering the bushes over there? He's been watering them constantly since we pulled up. And the woman in the window with the dog?"

"They're all demons?" Sam asked in awe. "Shit."

"Maybe we should back out." Dean said quietly. "Go in smart, or not go in at all."

"No. We are going to try. If we go down, at least we will go down swinging."

"Why, Sam?"

Sam turned from the drivers seat and met Deans eyes. "Because you're my brother, and you'd do it for me."

Sam pulled the car away, so we could regroup. "So what does a demon do for fun?" Dean asked casually, trying to break the ice.

"You don't wanna know." Ruby said, picking at her nails.

Bobby and John we're headed up the rear. We needed to regroup. We needed a plan. We needed a little hope.

Dean

Sam and I leaned against the car. "Hey I just wanted to say if this goes sideways... thanks."

I raised an eyebrow. "For what?"

"For taking care of me."

"Oh, come on, Sammy. If this is my last day on earth let's not spend it doing this."

"You know, she wants me to finish this. Maybe you should let me."

I shook my head. "Sam there's not a lot I know in this world, but I do know that getting in bed with demons is never a good idea. No matter what they offer you."

"You regret your deal?"

"I don't want to go to Hell, Sammy. I won't let any of you be as bone headed as me, because, look me over, I'm not pregnant. I'm not special."

"You're wrong. You are special."

"Are you two done?" Bobby asked, sauntering over to us. "We have a plan."

"Let's hear it." I said shortly.

"We will bait one demon at a time, getting them with the knife. We will poison the water supply with holy water and click on the sprinklers so nothing can enter or exit the house. You should get an element of surprise."

"I'll guard the perimeter." Dad said, meeting my eyes. There'd always been so much contempt there, but now there was something else. "I'll keep the demons away from you."

I turned my face to Ruby when my stomach dropped. I could see her, past her human face. I could see the dark thing beneath. Her black, Smokey skin, her black hollow eyes, and her sharp sinister smile.

"What?" She asked, pursing her lips.

"I just... I didn't know before, but damn you're an ugly broad."

"Dean?" Ava asked me, alarmed.

"I can see her face. Well her face under that face."

"It makes sense." Bobby said slowly. "You're piercing the veil. You can see Hells bitches."

"I am not Hell's bitch." Ruby said with an eye roll.

"That could be useful." Sam said. "Now they won't be able to get the jump on us as easily."

I frowned. "Well I'm glad my damned soul is good for something."

"Dean." Ava said, touching my arm gently.

I looked to her and matched her sad expression. "Sorry." I said, taking her hand.

"We need to hurry." Bobby said, meeting my eyes. "We are running out of time."

I squeezed Avas hand, bringing her knuckles up to my mouth. I pressed a kiss on them, and then on her ring finger. "Let's go."

—————————

We crouched outside of the house. "That's her." I said, with a wince. "The little girl."

Ava peeked into the house, my arm was around her waist.

"Please stay with Bobby." I asked her quietly, holding her hands. Bobby was stationed in an abandoned house across the street, watching, to warn us of what was to come. "I don't think I can focus if you're there."

"I am your partner, Dean. I won't leave your side".

I ran my hands down her back and looked into her blue eyes. "You're so stubborn."

"You love that about me."

"Please don't die." I said, desperately, pressing my forehead to hers.

"You too." She whispered, her breath hot on my lips.

We made a promise to each other that I didn't think I could keep. I just hoped she could keep hers.

"Her?" Ava asked, pointing to the little blonde, no older than 7 years old who was seated in front of a large birthday cake, surrounded by her parents and grandfather. There were tight smiles across their faces.

"Definitely." I said as we crouched back out of view.

"Ready?" She asked me.

"As ready as I'll ever be." I said with a nod.

We got in position. Sam along the side of the house, and Ava crouched over the main water supply.

I purposefully caught the eye of a demon and ran around the home to Sam. The demon followed me, running into the demon blade.

"One down." Sam whispered with a grin.

I drug it's body behind the house so it wouldn't be spotted.

By the third kill I was feeling positive. Maybe I would survive this after all.

"Going out swinging, huh?" I asked Sam with a grin.

"You're not going anywhere."

I shrugged and looked up from behind Sam. "That's yet to be seen." I whispered as I saw the habitants of the houses in the neighborhood out on their porches. Staring at us with black eyes.

"Run." Sam said, as we took off to the front porch of the house, the demons breaking into a run as well. Sam clicked his lock pick in place and began turning it.

The demons were quickly coming to the house. "Come on Sammy!"

"I'm trying!"

Where's Ava?

The sprinklers exploded into action, making the demons scream in pain, but someone was breaking through the holy water.

She dropped her hood and wiggled out of her jacket. I finally let my breath go. "You're a genius."

"Tell me something I don't know." My wife said with a smile.

Sam clicked the lock into place and we were in.

The house was dark. Sam stepped over an older woman's corpse in the doorway. She had obviously been there for days. There were flies on her cheek. Ava covered her nose, and we walked around her.

I unwillingly let go of Ava's hand so we could raise our guns. At best we could get a hit in to slow the demons down if they got through the line of holy water.

There was a creak next to me and I turned to find the husband from the house. I grabbed him, covering his mouth with my hand. "Shh. We are here to help you, but you need to be quiet. Ok?"

The man nodded. "Where is she?"

"Upstairs." He whispered.

"Go downstairs and make a salt line at the door. Don't come out no matter what."

"I can't go without my wife." He hissed.

"You can." I said sharply. "We will get her. Just go." I shoved him away.

He looked alarmed, grabbed the salt shaker off the table and ran toward the stairs.

I met Ava's eyes, and then Sams with a nod. We all slowly went up the stairs. Ruby went in one door, Sam in one, Ava and I in another.

We went into what was obviously the parents room. It was empty. The bed was unmade. It was obvious that the family hadn't slept much since the invasion.

The room was eerily quiet. Ava opened up the closet and shook her head. Empty. As expected. If she wasn't pregnant I may lock her in there to keep her safe. To keep her stubbornness from getting her and our child killed. "Stay here." I told her quietly. "Until it's over."

"No." Her voice was stern and clear. "Don't ask me again." She moved past me, and opened the door again.

I didn't get the chance to ask her again. I was afraid I never would.

I pushed in the door Sam went in. He was hovered over a child's bed. The wife was lying down with her daughter at her side. The child, Lilith, was asleep in a canopy bed. I went around to where Sam stood, with his blade raised.

"Do it!" The woman whispered in desperation. "Do it!"

Sam raised the knife. I glanced at the girl, and she was all I saw. No demonic face under her sleeping one. She was just a child. "Sam! No!"

He looked to me as the child sat up with a scream.

"She isn't Lilith. Not anymore." I told him quietly. I looked to Ava and she nodded.

"Go down to the basement. Your husband is there. You'll be safe."

"You should go to." Sam said, but Ava brushed him off.

"Where's Ruby?" She asked.

"She went into a different room." Sam said slowly.

"We've lost the element of surprise." I said, moving out into the hallway. Ruby burst out of the room she had been in.

"Can Lilith get past the holy water?" Sam asked her.

"With her pay grade she isn't sweating some holy water."

We went down the stairs as a group. The hairs on the back of my neck were standing straight up. My time was out. It was over. Lilith was gone, and I was going to Hell.

We stood in the dining room. The house was empty except for us and the family. It was fucking over.

"Okay, Ruby, I'm in." Sam said, turning to the blonde.

"What do you mean?" Ruby asked.

"What do I have to do to save Dean? You told me you have a solution, I'm on board."

"You has your chance. It's too late. I told you I had a solution but that was before. We needed time. This isn't just a switch. Dean is dead, and we need to get out of here before we are all dead too."

"There has to be a way. Whatever it is I will do it." He said intensely. I grabbed at Sam. I had to stop him. He wouldn't die for me. I wouldn't let him. "Dean no! Stop! I'm not going to let you go to Hell."

"Yes you are. Yes you are. I'm sorry. I did this, but whatever you're trying to do isn't going to save me. It's just going to kill you." I told him, holding him close to me.

"So what am I supposed to do?" He asked, defeated.

"Take care of my wheels. Take care of Ava and my daughter. Keep fighting the good fight, Sammy. Always remember what I taught you."

The clock in the living room chimed. Midnight.

"I'm sorry, Dean." Ruby said. "I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy."

Ava reached for me, but I put out a hand to stop her. I could hear the snarls echo through the room, and there it was. "Hell Hound." I said softly before seeing the creature in front of me. It was a large dog that almost seemed to be made of black demon smoke, but it was more grounded. It's large white teeth dripped with blood and thick saliva, it's black eyes caught sight of me and it charged.

We ran, pushing as hard as we could into a room adjacent. Ruby and Sam held the door shut as Ava and I sprinkled dust along the entrances to the room.

"That won't hold it for long." Ruby said. "Give me the knife, Sam and I'll try to hold it off."

I turned as Sam began to hand the blade to Ruby. Her sharp teeth turned into a smile as her milky white eyes locked onto the knife.

"Sam no! It isn't Ruby."

I could still see her black eyes echoing in my memory.

"Oh boys, you got me." Lilith flashed her white eyes to us a won't a sinister smile. She flicked her fingers sending me flat on my back against the floor, and Ava and Sam pinned against the wall.

"Ava!" I shouted, turning my head to make sure she was okay.

"Where's Ruby?" Sam asked between gritted teeth.

"Gone." Lilith said with a song-song tone. "She was a naughty girl. So I sent her away."

I struggled against her restraint, but I couldn't move. I could still hear the hound scratching at the door.

"Let them go!" I shouted, struggling. This is what I was afraid of. This is why I didn't want her to come.

"We will always be together." Ava said, her fingers laced in mine. It was hard to not believe her when she was still in her wedding gown. "Fate be damned."

She turned to me, her hair blowing in the breeze from the sea. Her lips exposed a row of perfect teeth. I remembered what it felt like the first time I saw her on that shore. She looked so free. She was beautiful.

"I guess in a way we will."

She put her arms around my neck. "In every way."

She kissed me like it was the first time, like it may be the last time. In the life we live we never know what time will be our last.

What time was our last?

"I don't speak to puppy chow." Lilith said with a sweet smile. "Sam." She breathed, walking to him. "I am so pleased to meet you. I've heard all about you." She leaned in and pressed her mouth to my unwilling brother.

"Let my brother out of his deal." He said, his voice surprisingly strong. "I'll give you whatever you want."

Lilith laughed sharply. "Oh silly Sam. You're trying to barter with me when you have nothing I want."

She backed up and took the door in her hand. "Sick 'em boy!" She said, swinging the door open.

Ava

"No!" I cried out. My scream echoing through the silence of the night, through the demons laughter, through Sams one cries.

When you lose everything, time slows, it crawls. I couldn't see the hound, but I could see it's claw marks scratching at the floor as it ran for Dean. He was still held down by Lilith's invisible hand. The creature grabbed at him, pulling him off the table. He screamed out in pain, causing my vision to blur from tears. It was static along the edge, as his flesh ripped from long, hellish claws. Blood poured from his mouth as he cried out, his green eyes searching for me.

I struggled against my own invisible restraints. I felt helpless. I couldn't help him. I was useless. "I'm here, Dean! I'm here!"

He opened his mouth to respond and cried out again. Large gashes appeared on his chest. This was my fault. He did all of this for me.

The hounds claws ran down his right arm, leaving long, deep cuts. Time slowed even more as the claw caught the hair tie around his wrist. It popped open, flying away from his body. I hadn't noticed that he still wore it. It had just become apart of him. Just like I had.

"Is that my hair tie?" I pointed to his wrist.

"Oh, uh yeah. It was on the floor. I figured you'd want it. To put your hair up." He reached for his wrist to take it off, hooking his index finger into it.

I put up a hand to stop him. "No, um. You keep it."

I watched the life drain from his eyes as he stopped struggling against the claws. My heart broke. Pain rolling through my chest. I felt like I couldn't breathe. I wanted to look away, but I couldn't tear my eyes away. His eyes were still wide open.

"Dean! No!" Sam shouted out in pain. Lilith laughed out loud, giggling like a child. The sound of the cruelty in her laughter brought me out of my trance. I turned my eyes to her and Sam as she approached him.

"I will end all the Winchester's left in one fell swoop. Your brother, you, and his little wife and future spawn. All of you will burn. Then I'll go outside and end your Daddy. Finally the thorn in our side will be gone."

Sam struggled against her grip.

Dean was right. I should've never come here. Now his sacrifice would be in vain. We were all going to die here.

Lilith brought her hand up, her eyes glowing yellow. Light radiated from her palm outward. It was so bright I had to look away, like staring into the sun.

The light swallowed Sam whole. I closed my eyes tightly. Tears fell down my cheeks and my head was pounding. I couldn't lose him too. This was wrong. This was all wrong.

"What?" Lilith asked, shocked, as the light dissipated.

I opened my eyes. Sam was okay. His hands were in front of his face to block her attack, but he wasn't harmed. He was on the floor, and he slowly stood. As he did I realized I was no longer held either.

He slowly reached for the knife and stood. His eyes met Lilith's. She looked afraid. He lunged for her, and her mouth opened, smoke rolled out of her, into the vents, and out of the house. Her body crumbled as the last bit of smoke left her body. She fell next to Dean.

We had a moment of silence before we both scrambled to him. I fell to my knees and took his head in my lap. "Dean." I whispered. I pulled him up to my chest and pressed my forehead to his like we had done a hundred times before.

This was how it was always fated to be, but I never believed in fate. We had been preparing for this for 6 months but here I was, not believing it. I ran my fingers along his eyelids, closing his eyes. His apple green eyes disappeared from my view for the last time. I would never see the sarcasm in them, and the way they would sparkle after he kissed me.

With his eyes closed he could almost be sleeping. Almost. Except there was no rise of fall of his chest. Just the warm, wetness of blood. I wept over him, holding his body close.

Sam came up behind me, touching my shoulder. I turned to him to see a tear roll down his own face. He lowered himself next to me, wrapping his arms around me. He needed me as much as I needed him. I looked from him to Dean, and I felt sick to my stomach. There was an intense cramping within my belly, and the corners of my vision came to static. "Ah." I cried out, holding my stomach with my free hand. My head pounded, and rolled into a searing, stabbing pain behind my eyes. I closed my eyes.

"Ava? Are you okay? Ava?"

He sounded far away and then I couldn't hear him at all.

My vision was completely gone. I was overcome by the pain in my head, and the cramping in my belly. I could feel myself drowning as I succumbed to the darkness.

—————

Authors Note:

Y’all this has been a serious labor of love for me. As I’m sure many of you know, I’m an author outside of fanfiction. The last year has been really rough for me, and I found myself and my inspiration again in this show. I wrote 80K+ in a total of two months writing this piece, and by the end of it all I will have over 250K in total. So thank you so much for reading and for keeping up with this story! Now that part 1 is complete I’ll begin uploading part 2 to tumblr. Y’all are seriously so wonderful, your messages and comments mean the world to me. I swear when I get a notification I start foaming at the mouth (maybe I should see a doctor for that IDK) 

Thanks again <3 and remember, always keep fighting. 

Read Part 2, The Daughter of a Righteous Man 

Get caught up!

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[drjasonjones-blog]

Meeting My Future

Jason:

The night was dragging slowly tonight, ER was busy but not with anyone who was seriously injured. Patients rolled in and rolled out, the bays cleaned up for the next patient and paperwork had been written up. This was my last shift before I had a three day break, but there was nothing at home for me either. I was born and raised in Caldwell, trained as a doctor and landed a job at the St Francis Hospital. My parents would've been proud of me if they were still here but fate had other ideas, they were both killed in a horrific car crash after a drunk driver had smashed into the driver's side, the car was written off and my parents were pronounced dead at the scene. That was ten years ago, since then I lived my life as a survival process, eat, drink, work and sleep, never met anyone who struck me dumbfounded. Ever.

This night was going to change everything, paramedics came rushing in, a man on a stretcher who was unconscious “BP 70/40, been given morphine as he has a break on his lower left leg, both fibia and tibia” “Bring him into bay two” the paramedics and nurses were on either side of the man “After three. One, two, three” They all pulled him onto the bed. The paramedics gave me his chart and left the ER. “Let's have a look at you” My breath caught in my throat, there was a scar that went from the middle of his forehead, down his nose and an S shape curve to his top lip that made it distorted. “You certainly have been in the wars, but this cut looks like an old injury” A nurse had taken his jacket off and it thudded to the linoleum floor. What the fuck? The nurse bent down picking it up “It weighs a ton, I'll go through his pockets to see if he has any ID” “I doubt it, with his looks and the weight of his jacket I bet he's involved in gang, drugs or both” The nurse went through his pockets taking out guns, daggers, extra clips, a length of chain and a wad of money. “No drugs or ID but with this money I bet he's already sold his products” Right back to the game. A male nurse proceeded to cut his leathers up his broken leg, the break was clean “Let's get this straightened out before a blood clot forms and travels to his heart, lungs or brain”

After straightening his leg and strapping it up I went in all doctor mode on him, there was no other injury on his lower body. That's when I had noticed the holster across his chest, handles were facing out. Unsheathing one of the handles, the blade emerged, it was beautifully crafted but I didn't have much time to admire the craftsmanship. Handing the blade over with the other arsenal I unclipped the holster and took it from his body. I grabbed the stethoscope, putting the buds into my ears I placed the metal disc against his chest above his heart. That was odd, taking the disc off his chest and put it on my own chest, I heard my heartbeat. “Anything the matter doctor?” I placed the disc back onto his chest, there was a distinct echo “Get me ultrasound here now, there's an echo in his heart”

Z:

The night couldn’t have gotten any worse. After having woken to #Bella in our mated bed, not that he slept much, if at all. She started in on him. We need to pick a male, she is getting close to her transition. No male was good enough for his young. Didn’t Bella understand? Did no one understand? This was his young gets the best and that’s it, nothing more and nothing less. After storming out of our chambers, Nalla, was the next to get on him. Thinking that she could wrap him about her finger, about joining the program. He wasn’t going to have HIS young out there fighting. She needed to be protected. Rhage let Bitty yes. Hell she went and talked to everyone about it. Z, loved his young with every fiber of his soul. But we all knew that there was a lot that was different in growing up for Nalla and Bitty. All of this, it was just to much, and he hadn’t even been up an hour. He needed to get out and clear his head, or he was going to snap.

Leathers, shitkickers, weapons and money. He was ready. He at least told Wrath he was going out. There was no need to explain why. Wrath knew what was going on. Hell the whole mansion knew. Dematting downtown next to #ZeroSum. He was itching for a fight. His eyes already black, from the normal, well it was now normal, yellow eyes. He stalked the dark streets, the bass of the music washing over him. It only fuled him more. He hunted for what was his prey. The fuckers that would see him and his dead. Lessers. Not that he needed to wait that long. Once he put some distance between him and ZeroSum. The strong smell of baby powder hit his nose. He smirked, it was time to play. He stalked right for the smell, coming around the corner of the ally. A group of 5 lessers, this was just what he was needing. They all turned as he smirked at them. His heart raced, the blood pumping. They ran at each other, and a deadly dance of blades began.

The next thing that he knew, he was in pitch blackness. A beeping and voices in the distances. What the hell had happened? He couldn’t remember anything at the moment. The only thing he could do was trying and fight against the blackness that wanted to drag him down. He would fight like hell to get back.

Jason:

Having the wand of the ultrasound in my hand, I squeeze some gel onto the end and some gel on his chest by his heart. Placing the wand onto his skin I look at the image on the screen. This couldn't be right, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 and 6, his heart had six chambers, that would explain the echo. I had heard of a three chamber heart, a throwback like if the human race was evolved from lizards.

I took several pictures of this man's heart, he would be a medical wonder to us all and it will help us to understand why he had this mutation. But for now he was in need of my care to get him healed up, he was going to be here at the hospital for some weeks with that clean break. Now that I had him comfortable I had him wheeled down to room 5 where I can give him another check on him. Moving the covers off his broken I saw that his bones had healed already. How can this be? What was he?

Stunned and shocked at this man or whatever he was in front of me he would be a medical marvel, someone to study to test how his healing powers are so advanced to ours and the heart with its six chambers. I'd love to get to know this man or whatever he was better in a medical sense. I have to admit I was fascinated by him, I was drawn to him, I was attracted to him. What was I feeling? I looked up above me as if God would give me the answer.

Z:

Hours, minutes? He didn’t know how long time had passed. In the darkness time didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. But he fought like the warrior that he was. He had to get back to his young, yes his young. She was waiting for him to come home. He couldn’t leave her, he loved her to fucking much for that. He also had to protect her, the race and the king. Slowly, he started to pull from the darkness. There was a smell that filled his nose, going deep into his lungs. It was the most intoxicating smell. One that he wanted to be closer to. There was a growing need to see where this scent was coming from. Who this scent was attached to.

Slowly his eyes opened, yellow eyes burned. They landed on a male, as he was looking up to the heavens. His heart sped in his chest. All he could do was stare at this male before him. He took a deep breath, breathing in the male. Fuck it was going to make his whole body hard. He didn’t even notice where he was. The world had fallen away. All he could was the male. Yeah he was fucked. He hadn’t had these feelings in such a long time. It was a little disarming.

He had hidden a big part away from everyone, even his own brother. He was gay, males had always done it for him. He mated Bella to hide that fact. Yes he loved her on some level, but he didn’t feel like this. No. It was never this intense for him. Shit. He didn’t know what the fuck he was going to do. Maybe he should scare the male away, it would be safer for him. He wanted to protect him. And he didn’t know why in this moment. That a male would come into his life, and now he would have to figure all this shit out. It was going to be mess if he didn’t do it right.

Jason:

Hearing rustling I looked down to the man laid on the bed, his eyes open. O my god, they were a beautiful shade of yellow. Yellow? No one had yellow eyes, he must be wearing contacts, but why would he cover up his eyes? "Are those contacts you have on your eyes? But why cover up your eyes?" I wanted to see his eyes close up, I bent at my waist getting closer to him, I noticed a scent, a line forest scent. Who plugged a Glade air freshener in the room?

I looked deeply into his eyes and came to the conclusion that they weren't contacts "Your eyes are so beautiful, I've never seen eyes that colour before. Who or what are you?" I didn't expect him to answer me, for all I knew he could of been a foreigner who didn't speak English. But then I remembered his jacket full of weapons and money "Are you in a gang? Was it's rival gang who broke your leg?" It wasn't fair of me to bombard him with questions but I had to know more about him, one thing I was certain of was that he had lead a hard life with the many scars on his body and on his face.

Straightening myself I checked over his body again, the break had completely healed in the time I was talking to him, he was a miracle. I had to get to know him more, I wondered if I made the excuse to do a follow up check on him I'd get to know more about him, where he is from and where he lives. I had this feeling that he was getting under my skin, I was literally breathing in his essence and I wanted more.

Z:

Fuck me. He noticed that he had come around and was staring at him. When his eyes met his, damn. They were the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. He didn’t even answer him, when he threw all the questions at him. They were just noise when he was staring at the male before him. Should he speak now? Hell he didn’t know. Never in his life had he had this before. Wanting to pull the male closer, just breath him deeper into him. The moment that he got closer. Oh that wonderful scent. He almost reached up and pulled him closer. But he gripped the sheets in his hands. Was it bad that he wanted to kiss the male and make him his own? Yeah it was bad, because he was human, and in his world. Humans could get hurt or worse killed.

Beautiful? He wasn’t beautiful. His body was fucked up. Slave bands wrapped around his wrists and neck. His face was fucked up. The scars that littered his body. Nothing about him was beautiful. The male wouldn’t understand, how could he? All these questions proved to Z that he couldn’t have anything with the male. Even though every fiber of his being wanted to be with him. Mine, screamed in his head. Oh fuck. This wasn’t good, but fuck it he wanted this male. What would everyone think about all this? Did he give a fuck? No he didn’t. But one way or another he was have this male as his. He would have to see if he was up to deal with Z himself.

Now was the time he was going to get his answers. His voice gruff at first. “A gang?” He wanted to laugh. “Maybe…” He smirked at the male. “Do I have a broken leg now?” He knew that his leg was healed. His race never took long to heal, and he had fed, so it wouldn’t have been a problem. Z, sat up on the edge of the bed, standing at his full height, as he pushed off the bed. He stepped close to male. The smirk no longer on his lips. “I’m not beautiful in any form. Look at me.” He was daring him to. “I’m fucked up.” He took another step forward to the male. “I’m something dangerous.” If he showed any fear, he would smell it and see it. This was his chance to prove to Z if he could handle him.

Jason:

The man spoke, his voice was beautiful, like an angel. It wasn't what I'd expected from him, I expected a deep rumbling voice but his was sweet and it was soothing. He'd asked if he had a broken leg "Yes your fibia and tibia were broken, it was a clean break. Do you remember how it had happen?" I could see by his expressions he was having a war with himself about what I didn't have a clue, so I asked him the dumbest question of all "Are you in pain?"

The man got to the edge of the bed and stood to his full height, I was near him if his knees buckled but he stood there solid like a tree. He took a step forward and then another, closing the gap between us. Yes I was feeling crowded but I showed no fear to him, then he said that he wasn't beautiful, that he was fucked up "Tell me who isn't fucked up anymore. We all hurt from our past. Some more than others" He grinned but his top lip always remained over his top teeth like he was hiding something. Do I take the plunge and ask or do I remain silent. Before I knew what was happening I opened my mouth and the words tumbled out "What are you hiding from me?"

I was mentally kicking myself after the words escaped my mouth. Fuck now I'd done it. His face contorted as if he was in two minds to show me. Then I remembered his words about being not beautiful "To me you are beautiful and what's that scent? It's like a pine forest" I inhale once more, that scent burrowed itself deep into my bones "What are you doing to me? Are you trying to gas me, have me black out and then kill me and dump my body where no one will able to find me" My own words had me scared bit I stood my ground and showed no fear to him.

Z:

Pain? In pain? He shook his head, he wasn’t in any pain. In some ways he might be. Not able to touch him, to bring him close. His soul ached. Because he knew that it wouldn’t be simple to be with him. There would be so many things to deal with. The biggest? Him being human. Yeah Z had a thing from feeding from humans. Once he thought he was dirty, unclean. Now, now he felt that he was once again. Not good enough. This male before him needed a life free of danger. For him to be with Z, he wouldn’t be able to live his normal life again. He would never be safe again. He didn’t want for the male. Something better than him.

Z moved the male, through movement, his back almost hitting the wall. He placed his hands on either side of his head. He leaned in a little bit. “Hiding? Now why would I hide anything.” He smirked, the tip of his tongue licked his upper lip, teasing the scar. “If I showed you what it could be. You would run screaming from this room.” Maybe it was best that he told him what he was, scare him shitless. They he would be save from Z and his world. It would be the best for the both of them. Then why didn’t he just show him, get it over with? There was something that was keeping him from doing just that.

What shocked Z, is that the male could smell his scent. Was there something special about this male? He didn’t let the shock show on his face. What was really a slap in the face. That he would think that he would kill him. Yes. He was a cold blooded killer. The scariest motherfucker of the brotherhood. One that you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley. For some reason it hurt him to hear those questions. To hear what he actually thought. Not that he would understand why Z felt the way he did. Hell Z himself didn’t even understand it. Yellow eyes meeting his. “If I wanted you dead. You would be laying on the floor right now.”

As much as it killed him, he pulled himself away from the male. Taking a few steps back. He needed to get out of here, wipe his memories and poof out of his life. He looked around the room. “I need my shit.” once he had it he would be out here like a lesser with a dagger through the heart.

Jason:

He came closer, putting his hands on the wall my head between them. This close I smelt more of that scent and his eyes. O my god I could get lost into those eyes. Everything faded, it was just him and me, nothing mattered but him. Then he abruptly broken the connection that had us tied together for that brief moment. "Where's my stuff?" "I'll go get them for you"

Coming back into the room with his clothes. "I'm afraid your leather trousers had to be cut to gain access to your leg. The only thing I have are hospital scrubs" Handing over the clothes I moved back towards the door, I thought giving him privacy was what he wanted. He dressed quickly, his face showed disgust at the scrubs, I had a feeling that wherever he lived would be stocked up with more leathers. "It's coming to the end of my shift, will I ever see you again?" For the first time I had feelings for another being, pity he was in a gang. That was my luck for you. Before he could answer I exited the room, I didn't want to hear his rejection. I quickly got my things from the locker and headed to the car park.

Getting into my car I had the feeling I was being watched, it wasn't like his stare. This was more threatening. I started the car up, dropped the feeling and drives out of the hospital grounds. Along the back road that went to the suburbs of Caldwell the feeling came back, I looked out of the rear view mirror and saw a minivan. I couldn't really see the driver but my feelings became uneasy, I had a feeling I had just stared at pure evil. Putting my foot on the accelerator, I tried to get to my destination before anything would happen. Round the corner a Ford Taurus was stopped blocking the road, I slammed on the brakes. Taking a look in the rear view mirror the minivan had stopped. Men were getting out and coming towards my car. The door of the Ford Taurus opened and out got a man with pale hair and skin. What the actual fuck? My door was opened by one of these pale freaks "He smells of vampire but he's not one of them" "kill him. We can't have witnesses, the Master will be angry if there are any" I prayed for a saviour to come and save me. The pale freak beside me raised his fist and punched me squarely in the face. Blackness came rushing, surrounding me, swallowing me down. I didn't know if I was alive or dead.

#MeetingMyFuture

#DarkParables

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: The Darkness Within (33/?)

Summary: When washed-up paranormal investigator Rum Gold meets Belle French, he does not quite know what to make of her claim of a supernatural presence in her life, but sensing her genuine fear, he begins to investigate. What he uncovers shakes the cynicism he has so long held to its very core, and he calls in the help of disgraced ex-priest Father Macavoy to help him lay some demons to rest…

A slow burn, eventual rumbellavoy. The rating may increase in later chapters.

Rated: M

[One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [Five] [Six] [Seven] [Eight] [Nine] [Ten] [Eleven] [Twelve] [Thirteen] [Fourteen] [Fifteen] [Sixteen] [Seventeen] [Eighteen] [Nineteen] [Twenty] [Twenty-One] [Twenty-Two] [Twenty-Three] [Twenty-Four] [Twenty-Five] [Twenty-Six] [Twenty-Seven] [Twenty-Eight] [Twenty-Nine] [Thirty] [Thirty-One] [Thirty-Two] [AO3]

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Thirty-Three

Although Joseph had seen Gold over Skype quite a few times over the last few weeks during the course of their investigation, he had not laid eyes on his friend in the flesh for a number of years. Walking out into Boston airport arrivals hall, it felt like the first time he had come to America, back when he had still been wearing the dog collar and had met Gold for the first time.

This time, he wasn’t with a taxi driver holding up a neatly printed sign reading Macavoy. He was just hanging around at the back of the crowd of people greeting their relatives, standing next to the coffee shop.

He looked older than he had done when they had last met in person, but then again, Joseph knew that he did himself as well. It had been years after all, and he knew that they had not been kind to him even if they had been slightly better to Gold.

All the same, he definitely looked a lot more haggard and stressed now than he had done when they had last communicated over Skype. The meeting with the entity and all the worry about Belle that had ensued must have done more of a number on him than Joseph had anticipated.

Then again… Joseph looked down at himself. Leaving the priesthood hadn’t exactly been good for him, either. It was probably easier just to say that things had gone downhill for both of them since they had last worked together. Both of them lonely and disillusioned until Belle had come into their lives and begun turning things upside down through no real fault of her own.

Well, Belle hadn’t exactly come into Joseph’s life, only by proxy, but now that she was there, he really wouldn’t have it any other way. Despite the desperate circumstances they’d now found themselves in, the case had given Joseph a new lease of life and a purpose that he had not had for a long time, ever since his last case of this calibre, and he was determined not to fail her.

Gold smiled as he saw Joseph approaching, but the greeting between the two men was still a little awkward, having not seen each other in person for so long. Joseph gave a huff of laughter; it was almost as if they’d been internet dating and were now meeting each other in person for the first time, although they’d known each other for so long before now and had been through so many weird and wonderful experiences together.

“So, what’s your plan?” Joseph asked once they were well on their way to Storybrooke and there was no chance of Gold getting distracted by the case and landing them in a ditch or on the pavement.

“Well, I’m not entirely sure that it’s possible yet,” Gold admitted. “That’s why I need your expertise.”

“I’m listening.” It wasn’t as if they had anything else to do to make the drive to Storybrooke go any quicker.

“Speaking hypothetically, if you know how a demon, entity, dark thing from beyond time and light, etc, was summoned, can you reverse engineer a way to send it back where it came from?”

Joseph nodded.

“Summoning and banishing are closely related, but given that everything in the world follows the entropic principle, banishing is a lot harder than summoning. Things that have been summoned to our world don’t tend to enjoy being sent back from whence they came.”

Gold nodded slowly. “Yes, I think we might have a fight on our hands with the Dark One,” he said. “It was pretty determined to stay within the bloodline.”

“I suppose the next thing would be to work out whether it actually wants to be in the bloodline or not,” Joseph mused. “Depending on the method that Nimue used to summon it in the first place, it could be that it is bound to the bloodline and condemned to remain within the family, and our freeing it and sending it back into the ether would be a nice reprieve.”

Gold just gave him an incredulous look and Joseph shrugged.

“It was worth a shot.”

“I don’t think it’ll go quietly. It said that Nimue had freed it from a prison of darkness.”

“Not exactly encouraging,” Joseph agreed.

They fell back into silence for a little while, and Joseph began to mull over all the new information that he had learned about the entity.

“Continuing with your hypothetical situation of banishing the spirit in the same way that it was summoned, how do you think that it was summoned?” he asked Gold eventually.

“You know that ceremonial sword you’ve found out a lot about?”

“Yes.”

“And the dagger that Belle keeps having dreams about?”

“Yes.”

“And the fact that in the dreams, there’s blood on the dagger, and Belle knows that it’s hers?”

“Yes.” Joseph paused. “You think that Nimue made a blood sacrifice using the sword to summon the entity?”

“Precisely.”

“And us making a blood sacrifice with the same sword will help to send it back.”

“If your logic prevails.”

“Right.”

The car fell silent again for a long time before Joseph spoke again, trying to take in the magnitude of what Gold had just told him.

“I thought you said that you didn’t have any idea what I was talking about when I kept going on about a ceremonial sword that had been passed down through your family for generations. I did think that it was Excalibur at one point. I’m still not entirely convinced that it’s not.”

“I don’t have any idea,” Gold said. “I’ve never seen such a blade and I don’t remember the aunts making any mention of it, or my father for that matter. But the entity said that was how the bloodline was broken - my father broke the blade.”

Joseph nodded. “Yes, Belle thought that might be how it had happened.”

“I think the fact that the blade is broken is the only reason that the entity hasn’t returned to me,” Gold mused. “There’s something in it that prevents it from simply hopping across.”

Joseph gave his friend an alarmed look, but Gold’s attention was on the road in front of him.

“You know, you’re rather too calm about this.”

“I’m not. I’m absolutely terrified but since Belle is also terrified, probably with more reason to be since the thing’s inside her, one of us has to try and stay calm and brave in the face of everything that’s happening.”

“Have you heard from Belle?”

Gold shook his head.

“No. She’s not returning any of my calls and she’s not answering the door. I’ve seen that she’s ok, I caught a glimpse of her through the curtains in her apartment, but as far as I can tell she hasn’t left it since that night.” He gave a long sigh. “I just want to make sure she’s all right. I want to be able to reassure her that no matter what happens, everything’s going to be fine in the end, but I can’t because I don’t know that.”

Joseph didn’t know that either, so he wasn’t going to be much use when it came to giving anyone any reassurance. All things considered, he was even less convinced of their pursuit being successful thanks to all the various experiences that he’d had before. All the same, there was something in the back of his mind telling him that this time he wouldn’t and couldn’t fail, and if blind faith in himself was what was needed to get him through it, then he would pray for a miracle and draw that strength from somewhere.

“Maybe I could talk to her,” he suggested. “You said that you thought she was scared of it happening again and the entity doing something irretrievable. She’s always been scared of hurting you, I can tell you that much. But I’m different. I’m not related to the bloodline and I’m definitely not AB negative so I don’t think that the entity will pay me much mind.”

Gold seemed to consider it for a long moment before he nodded.

“Yes. I think that’s a good idea.”

X

The rest of the drive to Storybrooke was uneventful, and Joseph eventually nodded off, feeling the effects of jetlag already. It was certainly going to be an interesting few days if he was always falling asleep when the action was happening. Gold woke him with a nudge to his shoulder when they arrived at his home, and Joseph looked up at the grandiose pink place.

“It’s haunted, isn’t it?” he said plainly. “I’m sure the only reason that you would choose to live in a house like this was to prove that it wasn’t haunted.”

“Restless suicide in 1832,” Gold said cheerily. “I haven’t heard a peep out of whoever it is since I’ve been in though, so I think I can safely say that one’s just a rumour.”

Joseph rolled his eyes. “Either that, or your reputation precedes you and all the ghosts have just accepted that you’re not going to believe in their existence so they’ve given up before they’ve begun.”

Gold shrugged. “Possibly.”

Joseph did have to admit that there wasn’t anything particularly sinister about the house when he got inside; he usually always had a nose for these things. After he’d settled in and they’d eaten, he decided that it was probably best to get going on his plan to talk to Belle as soon as possible. There was no use in putting these things off, and he wanted to get to her before she went to bed for the night and the entity might possibly come to the fore once more. Gold gave him directions, hanging back in the diner to keep watch in case something drastic happened. Joseph really hoped that it wouldn’t.

He looked up at the apartment above the library. The library itself showed no signs of having been opened over the past couple of days, and a hand-written sign tacked to the door explained that due to unforeseen circumstances, the place would be remaining closed indefinitely. Joseph felt a pang of empathy. He hoped that Gold’s plan to get the entity out of Belle and back wherever it came from in the first place would work, so that she could get back to her regular life if nothing else.

He mounted the stairs and knocked gently on the door. There was no response; he hadn’t really expected one, but he could hear someone moving about furtively on the other side of the wood. It was either Belle trying not to be heard, or the entity had taken hold and was being as suspicious as ever.

“Belle,” he called. “Belle, it’s Joseph Macavoy. Can I talk to you please?” He paused. “You don’t have to open the door if you don’t want, but I’d like to hear your voice and make sure you’re ok. I haven’t heard from you for a while, and now I’ve come over to help Gold with the case.”

There was again no reply, but the footsteps in the apartment came closer.

“Belle? Are you in there?”

“Joseph?”

The voice was small and muffled by wood, but it was undeniably Belle’s, and Joseph breathed a sigh of relief.

“Hello Belle. It’s nice to talk to you in person.”

“You’re really here?”

“I’m really here. My flight came in at lunchtime.”

“Rum left me a message, he said that you were coming. I can’t believe you’re really here.”

“I’m not sure I believe I’m really here yet.” He paused. “Rum’s been worried about you, you know.”

“I know.”

She didn’t say anything else, but then Joseph heard the scrape of the door lock and a moment later it opened. It was still held with three heavy-duty security chains, but Belle’s face appeared in the gap. Her eyes were red-rimmed from tears with heavy dark circles under them, her dark hair greasy and unkempt.

Joseph smiled and extended a hand.

“A pleasure to meet you, Belle.”

Belle just looked at his hand, but didn’t take it.

“How long have you been awake?” Joseph asked.

Belle didn’t reply, looking away.

“Did Rum tell you what happened?” she mumbled.

“I got the gist of it, yes.”

She bit her lip. “I haven’t slept since.”

Before Joseph could make any reply, the door had closed in his face. He heard the chains being drawn across, and then he was face to face with Belle properly.

“Come in,” she said. “If you dare.”

Joseph stepped across the threshold. “I’m not scared of you, Belle.”

She snorted. “You should be.”

She closed the door behind him but she didn’t lock it, and Joseph looked around the space. Empty coffee cups littered every surface.

Belle sank down onto the sofa, her head in her hands.

“I said I couldn’t bear it if I ever hurt him,” she muttered.

“You didn’t hurt him,” Joseph assured her. Belle shook her head.

“It was too close a call,” she said. “I knew that this was a bad idea. I knew I shouldn’t let myself get close to him, to anyone. It only ever ends badly.”

“We’ve got a plan, Belle. We’re going to get rid of this thing. I promise.”

It was a bad promise to make. He had no idea if he’d be successful or what might happen to Belle herself throughout the process, but looking at her now, so rundown and dejected, so very miserable, he knew that he had to give her some hope.

Belle shook her head again.

“I’m just about ready to quit,” she said. “I can’t live with this anymore. I can’t live with myself anymore knowing that at a moment’s notice I might do something terrible! Think about it, how can Rum and I ever go to bed together again knowing that the last time it happened, well, you know what happened the last time.”

Joseph sat down on the sofa beside her, putting an arm around her shoulders gingerly. Instead of shaking him off, like her brittle stance seemed to suggest she would, she melted into his embrace, like a dam breaking and a flood of tears suddenly pouring forth.

“Please don’t give up, Belle,” Joseph soothed. “Please. We will get you through this and you’ll come out of the other side. You’ve fought against this thing for so long. Even the Dark One itself is impressed by how viciously you’ve fought it. You can’t let it win now. Not when we’re so close to finding a solution.”

“I’m just so tired!” Belle cried, burying her face in his chest. Joseph remembered their Skype conversations when she had confided in all her fears to him, fears that were rapidly coming true, and all those times that he had wished that he could reach across the miles and comfort her.

“Sleep,” he soothed her. “I’ll keep watch over you.”

“But the Thing…”

“It doesn’t want me,” Joseph said. “I’m safe. And if it does go after what it does want, then I’ll be here to stop it. Besides, I’ve got jetlag. I’m hardly likely to sleep tonight even if I wanted to.”

Belle gave a weak huff of laughter, but eventually, her breathing quietened and she fell into a light slumber.

Joseph made her comfortable on the sofa, very aware that he probably shouldn’t be sitting there with his friend’s lover sleeping in his arms, and texted Gold to let him know that Belle was all right, before settling down to wait and watch until she woke up.

[acabloe]

Soon Goodbye, Now Love: Chapter Three

chapter one

chapter two

tw’s: cursing, religion? kinda? depression, anxiety 

still based on this song lol

a/n: psa I have done surprisingly little planning for this fic beyond the synopsis and basic plot-point interactions and ending so if you have some specific fluffy (or non winky face ((JUST KiDDING ⁱˢᴴʰ))) moments in mind for future chapters, my inbox is SO open and welcome also this will pick up pace after this chapter I promise, I just really needed to set up enough emotional stuff to make ur eyes wet later. ok das all read it n sheep.

Chapter Three: Draw the Oceans

Chloe stopped in her tracks and stepped backwards at the sight of such distress on the girl’s face. 

“Oh my God, I’m totally invading your privacy! I’m so sorry, I’ll leave you alone.” The girl had stopped as well and after a second of Chloe standing back with her hand over her mouth she reached forward and touched her back gently. Hoping she could add at least a small amount of positive energy into the situation, she quickly added “...Although, um, don’t take this the wrong way, but I can also stay with you if you just need to vent to someone who isn’t gonna judge you and who you’ll probably never see again- if thats what you need. Just let me know okay? It’s kind of my thing to go out of my way to make people feel better.” She smiled and made the kind of eye contact that she hoped would give off the most telepathically generous vibes.

The girl stared at Chloe, taken aback but still in consideration. A small split in the cover overhead had opened up briefly to illuminate the pair of them and Chloe saw her face for the first time. Her lips were sucked in and her eyes spilled shimmering streams down her cheeks . “I’m fine. Really. Thank you. I um...It’s...it’s complicated. It’s Really complicated.” Her voice broke on the word ‘really’ and her quaking hands passed to her face to rub at her eyes. Chloe begrudgingly let her do this contrary to her instincts of taking the girl’s wrists away and hugging her- she didn’t want to violate this stranger’s privacy more than she already had. She waited patiently for the girl to think about the situation while she kept her hand on her shoulder to stabilize her.

-

Beca’s stomach churned and she chewed her lip as she weighed her options. The three best responses that sprung to mind were not the most reliable ideas she’d ever had, but they would be better in the long run than simply to lay on the ground and give in to a breakdown.  Firstly, she could reject Chloe’s help and give no explanation for her current state, but ask her to keep walking with her ‘for comfort’ to hopefully form some kind of closer connection which she would use later to see her again. Secondly, she could, as fast as possible, concoct a story similar to the truth but somehow without mentioning the factors of reincarnation, the confirmation of some kind of legitimate higher power’s existence (or at least a medium power), that Chloe was supposed to die almost two years ago, and the matter that Beca was a fucking guardian angel. Or thirdly she could just tell Chloe the truth. The last one was, she admitted, both the worst idea and the most tempting one. No. She doesn’t know you, remember, she’s going to think you're high or something. (her brain did feel very unprepared for this sudden mental gymnastics, she thought.) Her heart physically ached with want to hold Chloe tightly and sob into her shoulder about how she thought she’d never see her again and how exhausted and lonely she felt. She sighed heavily and tried her best to smile without letting her emotions contort her face (harder than she expected) and prepared herself to express the second biggest lie she had ever told to her best friend.

“Thank you. I really appreciate that. Let’s keep walking...um, I’ll try not to bore you too much.” 

“No, no, please! Onward!”

Beca frowned as the comforting warmth in her shoulder from Chloe’s hand left her shoulder blade.

“Well...basically, a few years ago I had this friend. We...cared about each other a lot. We’d been really close since high school and we’d gone through some really tough shit together. She was there for me and I did my best to do the same. We were kinda like each other’s moms in a sense.” Beca chuckled softly. “Then about a year and a half ago...she...my friend was in an accident. She was hit on the highway by a drunk driver and she wasn’t found till a few hours after. When she was, they did their best but...um...she didn’t make it.” Beca paused, to both protect herself from crying again and also to stall for a second to think about what could possibly replace the concept of swapping places with the dying girl you love and returning to earth a guardian angel. 

“I was um...My mental health plummeted and I was in a really bad place for a very long time...I developed a bad drug and alcohol problem. I did some horrid, inexcusable things to a lot of people I cared very deeply for, which left me basically without my friends and family...But starting two months ago, I decided to get better for her. I’ve been sober for um...a few months. I was in rehab in Massachusetts up until a few days ago and I came back to New York for the first time in over a year today...honestly, I don’t know why. Closure? A message from her?! Maybe I needed to see you- her. Sorry, I’m just really disoriented. This is the first time I’ve been in the neighborhood where we used to live since...” Her tears were back, this time as equally fake as they were real. “I reached out to a few friends but no one will talk to me. I’m just filled with so much remorse. Like, immeasurable guilt. You have no idea. Fuck, I don’t even have a place to stay, I’ve only been here a few hours.” She hunched her back and hid her face in her hands taking deep shaky breaths. She did pride herself on her woven web, however, especially the bit about her friends.

Chloe had been quiet and patient with Beca through her whole story and finally when Beca had made it clear she had finished Chloe placed her hand on her shoulder again. She then spoke such soft and warm words that made Beca’s stomach tighten even further with emotion and nerves.

“Wow. I am so sorry. You’ve gone through so much, I really appreciate you sharing your story with me. You are such a strong human being and...I really admire how far you’ve come after everything you went through. Can I...Do you want a hug? I don’t want to invade your personal space.” Chloe’s voice grew somehow even kinder as she said those last few words and Beca nodded, not wanting to seem too eager. 

Chloe enveloped Beca in her arms and tightly held her to her chest as Beca’s sobs became involuntary and incessant. She had not felt so many emotions at once since...well, since as long as she could remember. Her knees were week and she almost clung to Chloe to stay upright. Chloe rubbed slow circles on her back and murmured comforting words to her.

“Shh. It’s okay, everything’s gonna be fine. You’re okay.”

Her familiar soft and sweet scent was painful with lost memories and Beca fit just so in Chloe’s arms as if Chloe had retained the experience of hugging her even through Chloe’s memory-obliteration. 

Finally after three or four minutes, Beca’s sobs became sniffs and she staggered gingerly away from her, afraid of making Chloe uncomfortable.

-

Chloe had such a curiously strong impulse to take this stranger in and help her restart her life and make amends with her friends. She knew how potentially dangerous it would be to let someone she had only spoken to for about fifteen minutes into her home but the girl’s story was pretty believable and she had a lot of spare time. The nearest police station was less than a four minute walk away from her home and she was confident that she was safe and unafraid to call if anything happened. She was surprised at herself for how much pity she harbored for this girl, but for some reason her tale struck an empathetic chord that Chloe had not heard before and was unaware had even existed. As their embrace broke, her impulsive thoughts got the better of her and she acted quickly as to not change her mind or overthink.

“Okay, you know what, hear me through. How would you feel if you came back to my house and you can sleep on my couch for the night? I have to stay up anyways. I can drive you in to the city on my way to work tomorrow and you can look at places to stay or job ops, if thats what you need. I have a friend at a café that could use an extra hand! Do you have anyone in New York you can talk to or trust?”

Even though it was still dark out, Chloe could tell the girl was stunned by her sudden advance. 

“I...uh...thank you, that’s really generous of you. I...guess? Wow, I feel like such a creep right now, I promise I’m telling the truth. If that’s really okay with you, I would so appreciate the help. Also, no I don’t think so. I mean, there might be someone, but I’m gonna need a couple days to figure out how to even get in touch with her.” She combed her hands through her knotted hair in a fluster. 

“Yeah dude of course! Here, come with me. Do you have any bags or anything?”

“Um, no. Most of my stuff is in a storage unit in town. I didn’t really bring anything with me when I left. Thank you so much, I don't think I’ll ever be able to repay you.” Chloe found that odd and questions of how the girl had even come from New York without possessions filled her mind but she pushed them aside.

Half an hour later of Chloe walking the weak girl back to her house in a comfortable silence (Chloe wanted to overwhelm her as little as possible with questions or conversation in her fragile state), they came through the door and she went to the tap to get the girl some water. When she checked the little yellow clock above her sink she was surprised to see that she’d been out for almost two hours and it was nearly 1:00 in the morning. The lights were dim coming from her living room but just bright enough for her to finally see what the girl looked like as she handed her the glass. She was small and frail with long, mousy brown hair and deep set blue eyes that were again cascading tears down pale blanched cheeks. Her minimal tank top and sweatpants were a little grassy but otherwise free of stain or dirt, Chloe supposed she had sat or perhaps lain in the field earlier. When she looked down, Chloe realized the girl’s feet were bare and bruised but said nothing.

“Drink all of that. The bathroom and shower is just through that door behind you. I’m going to run upstairs get you some spare clothes, and sheets for the couch, will you be alright down here?” The girl gave a small nod as she chugged down the water with huge gulps.

-

Beca shut the bathroom door behind her and immediately slid to the floor, breathing rapidly with her hand over her mouth to stifle her sobs.

The house was exactly as she had left it. All her belongings were gone, but most everything else was the same. Same couch, same photographs covering the stairwell, the same colored walls. Even the odd yellow clock Aubrey had bought them as a housewarming gift was still in the kitchen. She managed to push herself upright and turned on the faucet to the temperature she had grown so familiar using. She leant over the sink and forced herself to breathe evenly as steam rose to the ceiling and filled her lungs. 

She was here though and everything was going to smoothly. Everything that she had planned (or rather hoped without depth or consideration) was happening! She was home with Chloe and Chloe was taking care of her! She felt the corners of her mouth twitch as her thoughts grew more hopeful.

An instantly recognizable sensation reached her fingertips and she was no-longer concentrating on her good fortune. Her palms grew hot and it quickly spread to her wrists. Shit. 

Her hands were glowing bright white and her veins were accentuated by visible electric currents racing down her arms under her skin. This isn’t supposed to happen, you’re not supposed to glow on earth, it’s literally impossible. Her heart beat faster. This was a regular behavior in the Higher City. It was completely random with no rhyme or reason and it was also another phenomenon that the head-angels refused to digress. But they had strictly told everyone that it wasn’t supposed to happen after they had left to earth. It’s gotta be a glitch or a kink in the system when I changed my fucking assignment. You bitch! Beca Mitchel, you have fucked up so royally. The light had spread down almost the entire length of her arms and she felt her knees grow hot as it climbed up her legs as well. She threw off her clothes and rushed to the shower, desperate that the water could somehow stifle the course of electricity running through her bloodstream. It did nothing but scald her skin and she yelped in shock.

five or six seconds later a knock came to the door which startled Beca to jump.

“Everything okay in there?” 

“Yeah, um, I turned it too hot haha,” She laughed nervously.

“Okay, I’ll leave these clothes by the door. There’s fresh towels under the sink.”

“Great, thank you!” She groaned quietly in frustration, but when she looked back down to her hands, they were back to her own pale skin. She sighed heavily in relief. Usually it lasted longer; around five to ten minutes, but she guessed because it was only a glitch it would affect her to a much lesser extent.

Twenty minutes later she sat on her made-up bed in Chloe’s pajamas waiting for Chloe to bring her tea she hadn’t asked for. She had been considering maybe telling Chloe the truth after all. The level of gullibility involved with people she cared about was something that the two of them had been working to correct before everything was shoved at them left and right. Beca had begun to worry that one day in the future she would not be immediately accessible to force Chloe to see every angle of the situation and to hold herself over others when the circumstances required. A significantly large piece of Beca’s mind suggested that Chloe would swallow the whole story with complete belief and acceptance. However Beca had not seen her in so long and she had romanticized their friendship so laboriously during their time apart. There was a chance that the more stripped down version of Chloe that Beca remembered was not as surface-level innocent and credulous as was reality. There was too much of a risk that Beca’s tale would turn her out onto the streets and she would definitely never see Chloe again after that. She was woken from her musings by a warm mug of lavender-smelling steam being gently placed between her palms.

“Here you are! It’s hot, careful. So, I’m leaving around 8:00 tomorrow and I’ll drop you off wherever you need to be?”

“Um, yeah that would be great. Thank you so much for all of this. You have no idea how much it means to me.” No really, she had No. Idea. 

“Yeah, no worries! I totally got your back! Um, I’ll just be right here in the kitchen finishing up some work. If you need anything just holler.” Chloe patted Bec’s leg affectionately and stood, still facing Beca. Her eyes suddenly somehow grew wider than her already enormous size and she exclaimed. “Wait, oh my God! I’m such an awful person! I don’t even know your name! And you don’t know mine! What the hell is your name, dude?” Beca laughed and looked down sheepishly.

“It’s Beca. Mitchel.”

“Well, nice to meet you Beca, my name is Chloe. I think we’re gonna be really fast friends.”

A/N: Hey friends just wanna say thank u sm for all these positive responses I’m really enjoying this process n it’s my first proper fic since my 2014 doctor who days. if you can’t tell I've been trying really hard to write different pov’s in styles closer to how I think the characters think idk we’ll see how it goes ::,,))) ps. if someone wants to make me a fic cover I will love you forever and ever I would do it myself but I can’t edit for S H I T :// woohoo what a ride this is gonna be I really hope y’all keep reading !!

[kazekohitori]

I wrote this story for myself and my friends to help us heal while we mourn the loss of our favorite character.

This is the first chapter of CastielXStacie (myself) and the beginning of the story.

CastielXStacie Chapter One

The crisp November air chilled Stacie’s cheek as she sat on a log watching the remnants of her paltry attempt at spellwork burn on the fire. She knew it was a long shot but she was desperate. All of the fans were. Losing their favorite angel had left a palpable hole in the fandom. It left a hole in humanity for those sensitive enough to feel it. The year had been tumultuous as it was. Losing Castiel was just too much for far too many.

The smoke was dissipating now. She watched the wisps rise and waft over the moist soil of the banks of the Umpqua river, over the moss covered stones just beyond the bend. Yes, an entirely unlikely, desperation driven attempt to save someone. Not unlike the Winchesters in their “we’ll find a way” attitude to every obstacle they had ever faced.

It was a miracle to have come across the spell in the first place. Indeed, Stacie mused, divine intervention. Not by Chuck though, that was silly. Supernatural was a television show; this was the real world. God (if there was an intelligent being that ruled over the universe), would be too busy with more important matters. Surely, if this was divine intervention, it was from a lower class of angel who took pity and allowed this spell to be discovered.

True, too, that Castiel, as a character on Supernatural, was not real and many fans knew that. But just because an idea isn’t alive doesn’t make it any less real. Castiel lived in the hearts and minds of all fans of the show. That made him real. And his death in the show was real. Each time he died in the show the fans felt that loss and mourned him as though they had known him.

The last of the embers were now out. The spell hadn’t worked. Or so it appeared.

Stacie looked to the sky with it’s dark storm clouds looming low. “Please,” she whispered without realizing, the desperation in her heart creeping up to her tightly shut eyes and spilling out as tears down her cheeks.

Nothing.

She gathered her coat tighter around her as she stood to walk back to her car. It was coming up on 4pm, the sun would be setting soon and it was starting to sprinkle. It had been a cold day and no one had been at the river access park when she arrived. Who in their right mind would be out on a day like today?

As she walked back along the path she spotted a tall figure amongst the trees. Her heart stopped and her breath caught in her chest. Dark chestnut hair and a tan trench coat stopping just above the knees. He had his back to her initially as he looked around in confusion. He turned and those impossibly blue eyes fell on her. He lowered his head, tensing his body for a possible fight but quickly ascertained she was not a threat. Stacie stood grasping the trunk of a nearby tree, her legs suddenly becoming too weak to hold her.

They stood in silence evaluating the other until finally he growled, “Where am I?”

That voice. The low, husky voice she had known for years. Those eyes. Those lips. That little scar just above his lip. The tie. The suit. That coat! If this wasn’t Castiel it had to be Misha Collins. There was no way this was a look alike. Since the odds of it being Misha were highly improbable, it must be Castiel. Although, it could be said, the the odds of it being Castiel were more improbable, but she had just used a spell to bring Castiel to life here, in this world.

It took her a moment to realize she had been asked a question. “Huh- oh. Um... Earth?” She offered.

Castiel glanced around before looking back at her skeptically, “No. This isn’t-“ He cut himself off considering the possibility that he may be on another version of Earth. Perhaps Chuck hadn’t destroyed all the other universes. He glanced around again.

Stacie took a few apprehensive steps toward him. “It’s okay now. You’re safe.” Left hand clutched to her she reached for his left forearm as though to soothe him like a frightened animal.

The gentle touch snapped his attention back to her and to her hand which she quickly removed sensing it was unwelcome. “How far am I from Kansas?”

Taken aback she gazed at him solemnly. “You-“ she paused, “You won’t find them there.”

It was Castiel’s turn to be taken aback. He opened his mouth to respond but no words came.

Stacie hung her head and let out a long sigh only now noticing it had begun to rain. “Would you like to come with me to my car? We can sit and- and I can tell you everything.”

Although wary, this woman didn’t seem threatening. He glanced around once more before giving a curt nod and following her to the parking lot.

They climbed into the front seats and she began by asking him what was the last thing he remembered.

He squinted at her unsure of how to respond.

“Was it... being in the Empty? Or saying goodbye to Dean?”

“How do you know that,” he asked sternly. “Are you-“ his gaze suddenly became dark, he flicked his wrist and drew his blade, “Chuck.”

“Whoa! No,” Stacie held up her hands surrendering before the fight could start. She eased her iPhone out of her pocket and pulled up ‘Supernatural’ on her web browser. “In this universe, on this Earth, there is a show called Supernatural that follows the lives of two brothers and their angel ally as they fight the forces of evil,” she handed Castiel the phone.

Castiel studied the webpage. “I- I think Dean and Sam once talked about this. Balthazar sent them here.”

“The French Mistake.”

Castiel looked at Stacie with confusion.

“That was the name of the episode,” she explained. “I don’t think it was here.” She paused to consider, “Although...Maybe... If it was I doubt there is a way to prove it.”

Castiel resumed his perusing of the articles on the phone.

“Anyway,” Stacie began again, “Supernatural is a TV show that just ended. That’s how I know about you, Sam, Dean, and Jack-“

“Who writes the show?” Castiel interrupted.

“Hu-uhhm... Well, there have been different writers throughout the years. Eric Kripke started it. Sera Gamble, Andrew Dabb-“

“I don’t recognize them as prophets.”

“I don’t think they are. They’re just writers of a show. And these guys,” she pointed to the three main actors, “Jared, Jensen, and Misha are the actors who brought those characters to life.”

Castiel stared at the picture of Misha Collins in his royal blue tux and big smile. Under his breath he whispered, “...looks just like my vessel. Could he have a twin?”

“Cas?”

He was roused from his pondering.

“May I call you Cas?”

He didn’t outright disagree to this familiarity nor did he give actual consent. He just resumed perusing the various links on the webpage.

“As I was saying, Supernatural is a TV show loved the world over. And while the characters and the story aren’t real, the love for them is.”

He lifted his head to gaze out the windshield, “if the stories aren’t real how come I’ve lived them.” He turned to stare Stacie down with a displeased glare, “I’m sitting in your car and you say I’m not real?”

“That’s just it, Cas, you, this you, is real.” Stacie smiled brilliantly, “We did it!”

“Who?”

“The fans. Your devotees.” She smiled to herself, “With all the love we feel for you, we brought you to life.”

Still skeptical, Castiel asked, “How?”

She beamed at him, “Nothing short of a true miracle.” She straightened herself in the drivers seat, smiling out the window as the raindrops pelted the solitary car in the parking lot. “A spell much like a tulpa incantation. But different.” She turned to gaze into those beautiful blues. “’As one exists in the world, so does one exist in the minds of all who know them.’ The spell worked to turn all those versions of Castiel in the minds of fans into their versions of Castiel within this world.”

Castiel sat in silence, absorbing the information, until finally he said, “So, I’m.... your version of me?”

Stacie beamed. “Yes.”

“And Sam, Dean, and Jack... They don’t exist,” he asked solemnly.

She paused, suddenly realizing how painful the truth, his reality, might be. He had willingly given himself over to his demise on the show, perhaps to spend an eternity tortured in the empty, but ultimately alone in that ‘afterlife’. Now, this version of him anyway, would be surrounded by people but without his family. “Well, not yet,” she offered.

He tilted his head in his usual Castiel way.

She sighed and gazed out the windshield again. The sun was just peaking out from below the clouds as it set beyond the pine covered hills. The rain was letting up. “If we were able to bring you into being I’m sure we can bring Jack and the Winchesters here as well. Now,” she started the car, “what do you say to coming home with me?”

He looked down at his hands, handed the phone back to her, and smiled that crooked smile, “Do I have a choice?”

Stacie glanced at him, “Not really. I don’t want my Castiel wandering the world without a chaperone. Much safer for him to stay with me.”

He rolled his eyes as he turned to buckle his seatbelt, “I don’t even know your name.”

She put the car in gear, “It’s Stacie.”

[bevioletskies]

20 questions [9/20]

characters: peter/gamora, guardians-centric

fandom: avengers academy/marvel cinematic universe

summary: wasp has a new competition in store for the students of avengers academy, and there’s money involved. so obviously, peter and gamora have to pretend to be a couple in order to win. wait, what?

chapter preview: some of the guardians take off in search of nebula, peter lives in the deep canyon of denial, and gamora reflects on how her life has changed since becoming a guardian.

word count: 4310 | total word count: 118k

a/n: this entire fic is just me going “peter pls” tbh

ao3 | previously | next | masterpost

The drive back to campus was...tense, to say the least. Not because they were fighting again, but because Peter could tell Gamora had trapped herself in her own mind, running over dozens upon dozens of ideas of what Nebula was planning on doing, and what they had to do in response.

The radio was playing the traffic report, occasionally telling them of an accident far off from their route home, and the light show had long ended, now that it was approximately 2:30 in the morning. It was just the droning sound of a graveyard-shift radio host and the occasional honk of an obnoxious cab driver that kept them company.

Although Peter knew his mind needed to be focused on the mission at hand (or at the very least, his driving), he couldn’t help but find himself mentally wandering back to two hours ago, when he and Gamora had nearly kissed. It was different than their first near-kiss on Knowhere, the one that had resulted in a knife to his jugular. The look on Gamora’s face, as if she’d experienced some epiphany that needed a conclusion right at that very moment - and they had been so close! Now, she couldn’t be further away despite being seated next to him, looking off into the distance, her brows furrowed in concentration, lips pursed, probably calculating ten different scenarios in her head at once, and not at all thinking about what had transpired before.

“Gamora?” he said, voice soft. She nodded for him to continue, never turning or making a sound. “I don’t know what your exact plan is yet - if you have one - but I think it would be best if some of us stay on Terra. It’ll be especially bad if Earth gets another intergalactic threat and we’re all away.”

“I’ll take Mantis and Drax,” she replied, her voice distant. “It’ll help us subdue Nebula in two different ways, if it comes to that. I don’t want her getting violent around Rocket or Groot, and Yondu’s arrow will be of little use in threatening her, considering what happened last time.”

“Makes sense.” They fell silent again, as if they had nothing more to say to each other, despite having so much left to talk about. It was going to be a long trip back.

______

The SHIELD agent at the gate had been confused upon seeing them, as they weren’t expected back until noon. However, Gamora had called ahead, asking Rocket to get Groot to fake an illness in case security called the Milano to check on their story. After that, he waved them through with a disinterested yawn.

They boarded the ship ten minutes later and were greeted by the other Guardians, who were whispering frantically to one another about what to do. After hearing Gamora’s plan for splitting up, they came to a consensus (after some minor protesting from Rocket) and moved to pack their things.

Peter volunteered to help Mantis with her stuff, knowing she often deliberated too long on what to take. The moment her bedroom door was closed, he felt odd. It was the first time he’d been fully out of Gamora’s presence in three days. “How was the trip, Peter?” she asked softly as they began rummaging through her weapons storage unit. “I saw the photos on social media. You looked very happy.”

“It was fun,” he said with a shrug, and it had been, if not confusing in the end. “I think Gamora and I, we have a better understanding of each other now.”

“That is good. You both make very good team leaders.” Mantis smiled brightly as she pulled out a set of knives, one that had been gifted to her by Gamora not long after she’d been recruited.

Peter wisely chose not to say anything about the “moment” they had. Maybe he had built it up more than it really was, and Gamora had already left it behind in their hotel, never to be addressed again. It didn’t need to be awkward, right? It just didn’t.

He decided to steer the conversation elsewhere before Mantis got a little too close for comfort, asking her whether Yondu had behaved (he hadn’t), whether Groot had been a good kid (he had), and if the weekend had been relatively calm, aside from the whole Nebula-going-off-planet thing (it hadn’t. Apparently Peter Parker had attracted some unwanted attention. Honestly, how was he not the problematic Peter at this school?). They were interrupted not ten minutes later by a loud clanging noise at the loading deck. The team scrambled outside, guns and blades ready, only to immediately cower and drop everything.

Director Fury stood there, feet shoulder-width apart in his signature power stance, hands clasped behind his back, trenchcoat flapping in the wind as always. Peter briefly had the crazy idea to ask the Director if he had any special tricks for looking extra dramatic in a longcoat, because his sometimes got trapped around his ankles when he danced. “Going somewhere?”

“Just cleaning up, Director,” Peter said cheerily, stepping forward. “You scared us.”

“Groot doesn’t look sick,” Fury said, gesturing at the little one, who was sitting on Gamora’s shoulder and chewing on what looked like a nail file in his tiny hand. “So why are you two back so soon? Your little love trip go sour?”

“My sister has gone missing, sir,” Gamora confessed, her defensive stance slacking as the fight left her body. “She was spotted near the Kyln, where she had murdered several prisoners in an attempt to find us, back when she was still with Ronan. I suspect she’s searching for Thanos, and we need to retrieve her but have no way of doing so.”

Fury sighed the sigh of a man who spent a lot more time wrangling teenagers than he’d like to. “I’ve got you a ship. It’s not the Milano, but it’ll do. Who’s going? You need permission forms to get out of your classes, and I’ll sign ’em.”

Peter stared. “Is that a thing here? I have never heard that before in my life.”

“Just tell me who’s going, Quill, before I change my mind,” Fury barked.

“Myself, Mantis, and Drax,” Gamora said quickly, shooting Peter an annoyed look. “Thank you, Director, I appreciate it.”

Fury waved a hand. “Alright, you three, let’s get going. Say your goodbyes, it could take awhile before you come back.”

Groot, predictably, became very distressed, clinging onto Gamora’s hair and letting out a high pitched whine, not unlike a puppy whose owner was leaving for work. Realizing that Fury was watching, Gamora set Groot down on Rocket’s shoulder and reached to wrap her arms around Peter’s waist, a hesitant stiffness in her arms that she hoped the Director wouldn’t notice.

“We’ll call to check in every day,” she promised, her hand moving to cup his jaw. “I’ll see you soon, Star-Lord.”

Even Rocket couldn’t be bothered to make a gagging noise, as he was staring at the others with an oddly forlorn expression. Peter pulled Gamora in closer, wondering if he could possibly convey every confusing thing he had been thinking and feeling about her in their embrace. She kissed him, a much more prolonged kiss than the one in Central Park, but still devoid of the emotional weight of mere hours ago. Somehow, it made Peter feel worse about the whole situation.

“Don’t miss me too much,” Peter said jokingly, finally letting her go. His view of her walking away to stand near Fury was obscured by Mantis practically jumping into his arms. “Whoa, hey. You be careful, Mantis, okay? You’re a badass, but you’ve never been out that far. Let the others take point on this one.”

Drax wrapped an arm around Peter’s shoulder, murmuring something in his language that he had told them previously was his people’s blessing of protection. Peter wanted to learn it so he could say it back, but there were too many consonants and not enough tongue dexterity.

After the three passed around the other Guardians, saying their goodbyes, Fury finally managed to direct them off the Milano, disappearing into the darkness.

“That was quite a show you put on jus’ now,” Yondu commented as they somberly settled in at the communal table. “Almost looked legitimate.”

“Is that really what we’re talking about right now?” Peter kicked his feet up, staring at his uneven shoelaces so he’d have something to fixate on before his brain took him further into a downward spiral. “You’ve got weird priorities, Yondu.”

“You weren’t here for all the panic earlier, Quill,” Rocket said. His voice sounded oddly affected. “Might need something less heavy to talk about while they’re gone.”

“I am Groot,” Groot said sadly, hopping onto Peter’s lap and snuggling into his belly, tiny fingers digging into Peter’s waist. “I am Groot.”

“Stop calling her mom,” Rocket said, though it was half-hearted. “Of course Quill misses her, the whole d’ast galaxy can probably see his crush from miles away.”

“I just came here to finally get some rest and I feel so attacked,” Peter said, standing up (but not before carefully setting Groot back onto the table). “I’m going to bed. Come find me when you wanna talk about something other than me and Gamora, okay?”

______

The whole campus woke up to a rather sober image of the Guardians. The team, though often split up during missions, were never fully separated the way they were now, and it was evident. Peter, Yondu, Rocket, and Groot, all varying types of chipper, loud personalities, seemed disconnected in class. The professors took pity on them and left them alone for the most part, but the students seemed especially sympathetic towards Peter, who, in their eyes, was currently without his sister and his girlfriend.

“If you need some company, you’re welcome to join us, Peter,” Steve said in that ever-so-gentle voice of his, a stark contrast to his authoritative Captain America voice. “All of you.”

“Might take you up on that offer,” Peter said with a weak smile. “Thanks.”

Sitting with the Avengers at lunch seemed pretty surreal. The other Guardians had declined in favour of going back to mope on the Milano, so Peter was left alone with Steve’s usual crew of Barnes, Wilson, and Romanoff. At the next table over, he could see Tony with Rhodey, Pepper, Janet, and Parker, who was being watched by a table of his usual admirers. For a supposed “nerd”, Parker has some game, Peter thought.

“I guess you guys haven’t really been this far apart before,” Sam said when Peter first sat down.

“Sam - ”

“No, Steve, don’t try to sugarcoat it. Peter might wanna talk it out,” Sam said, waving a carrot stick at Cap. “I mean, let’s be real. We Avengers? We have fights every damn day. The Defenders are constantly at odds, but you Guardians have this real family bond going on, and I think that’s cool. But I bet it makes it harder to be away from each other.”

“I’m worried about my sister,” Peter said, twisting his juice bottle around in his hand aimlessly. “She’s so...gentle, y’know? And I hate to think what she’ll witness out there if Nebula’s on a revenge rampage.”

“She’s a good kid,” Sam nodded. “But she’s got good company right now, yeah?”

“Gamora’s been taking Mantis under her wing,” Natasha said. “I think they’ll be okay, Quill. Don’t worry.”

He smiled. “Thanks, guys. I know we’ve kinda been keeping our teams mostly separate, but it means a lot to know that we’ve got each other’s backs.” Biting at his lip, he considered whether to play up the angle a little more. “At least I got a really nice weekend in with Gamora before we had to get separated.”

“Jan showed me some of the photos. You guys look real swell together,” Steve said, shooting an encouraging smile back. “Me and Peggy have some competition.”

“Nah,” Peter said, waving a hand. “You guys got that whole epic war love story thing that spans decades.”

“Decades in which I was on ice, and Peggy technically died while I was gone,” Steve reminded him. “We got back together when she came back, but we’ve probably only been dating for about ten months.”

“How long have you and Gamora been together again?” Natasha said, blinking at him innocently, though Peter could tell she was thinking about something. What, he wasn’t sure.

“Five months by the time she gets back,” he sighed. “At least, I can hope they won’t be gone any longer than that. I wanna do something special for our six-month, even though I know she’s not super into anniversaries.”

“Did you do anything for the other anniversaries?” Natasha was leaning a bit closer now, and the others looked slightly uncomfortable.

“I got her this modified multi-tool. Don’t think she actually uses it, but I know she keeps it on her as like, a keepsake,” Peter said, crossing his fingers this wasn’t something Natasha had tested on Gamora before. He should probably update her on the fake stories they had to spread. “Like I said, anniversaries aren’t really that important to her.”

“What’s it like, dating someone like Gamora?” Peter almost jumped at the sound of Barnes’s monotonous voice, which always sounded partially confrontational, and partially sad. No one could blame him for either, not after what he’d been through. It was then that Peter also remembered Barnes had a giant crush on Natasha, and knew what he was really asking.

“It’s honestly really great,” he said. He moved to unwrap his sandwich and rearrange his lunch tray, in an attempt to distract himself from the truth and the lies of his own words. “I mean, Gamora’s my best friend too, which I think is super important in relationships, y’know? And, uh, she’s this, powerful badass who can also be a really warm, fun person. It’s like, she slays a bunch of monsters with her Godslayer, and then she cuddles me when we’re watching movies together. It’s super awesome.” He looked up to see all of them watching him even more carefully than before. “I think everyone expects her to be as authoritative and type-A in relationships as she is in battle, but it’s not like that. She’s affectionate, and sweet, and…” Peter trailed off with a shrug. “She’s basically the most important person in my life.”

“Wow,” Steve chuckled. “I’m really happy for you, Peter. You two deserve a win.”

“Thanks,” Peter said. There was a warmth in his cheeks that hadn’t been there before - where had all those words come from? “So, how about you and Carter? Haven’t really spent much time around her but I’ve heard the old stories, and I’m pretty sure every girl on campus I know worships her, so she must be pretty awesome.”

Sam and Bucky groaned in sync. “Oh, don’t get him started,” Sam laughed, playfully flicking a grape at Steve’s head. Peter chuckled at the sight, grateful to be able to relax for the first time since she’d - they’d - left.

______

Three agonizingly long days passed before the three of them had gotten remotely close to the Kyln. It was weird, being on a ship that wasn’t theirs, with most of their team back on Terra. Gamora was mostly in charge of piloting the ship, as Drax and Mantis had little experience in comparison, and it was honestly quite lonely. She had grown so used to bickering, to the sounds of Rocket’s tools and Peter’s music and Groot’s little voice, that the casual, low-key chatter that Drax and Mantis engaged in felt all wrong.

She knew Drax and Mantis were close, having bonded quickly on Ego’s planet, and made it clear they had no romantic feelings towards each other, but their platonic love for each other was strong. Drax was something of a second brother to Mantis, insistent on protecting her and sparing her from the uglier parts of their battles. Gamora wondered if Mantis secretly disliked that both he and Peter kept her away from the real fight, if she wanted to make those decisions for herself. It was why she and Nebula had opted to train Mantis more, in hopes she would be strong enough to properly be alongside them.

If one had asked Gamora two years ago what her idea of family was like, she would have given a condescending laugh and a shake of her head. Her family was long gone, dead, killed without mercy at the hands of a man who referred to himself as her father. Now, she had what she would have seen as trivial problems - how to keep Groot from falling into the garbage disposal, how to stop Rocket from blowing everything up. What the best way to train Mantis was, how to teach Drax to be more tactful in how he treated other people. How to convince Yondu to properly engage in school, how to make Peter more responsible. All for her newfound family.

As for her actual family, her sister, she was a different story altogether. They approached the cluster of small rock settlements outside the Kyln, and she felt a sense of dread, then a sense of guilt. How could she feel so reluctant to save Nebula? She had to remind herself constantly that Nebula was not yet a lost cause, that she was worth going after. Gamora couldn’t abandon her when she clearly had issues she still needed to work through, issues that needed the strong support system they had built for themselves with the Guardians.

“We should send out a message, and see if any of them know where she is,” Mantis suggested.

“I doubt they will answer honestly. Perhaps we should just land and intimidate them into answering us,” Drax said. He looked like he was itching for a fight.

“Message first, intimidate later,” Gamora allowed. “Mantis? You want to do it?”

Five hours later, and Gamora was honestly bored. They had transmitted a message down to the Nova station after deliberating over their word choice for an hour (Drax didn't think they expressed the urgency of Nebula’s destructive potential enough, Gamora thought it was unnecessary to threaten to decapitate them if they didn’t answer), and there had been no response so far. Instead, they hovered around the cluster like they had nothing better to do.

The three of them decided it would be a good time to catch up on schoolwork, despite it being hard to concentrate. It was getting increasingly difficult to think at all, when they were floating in the middle of nowhere, on a ship that was too sleek and shiny to feel like home, with no idea of what was to come. Gamora considered when would be too early to tentatively message Peter and ask him to follow with the rest of their team. They had given the Nova station until midnight to respond, but what if they landed and found that Nebula had already left? It was highly likely, what with her ability to sneak in and out of locations with ease. The trail could have already gone cold before they’d left Terra.

Ding.

“It’s mine,” Gamora said when Drax and Mantis looked up. “I’ll take it into my room.”

She retreated to her bunk with her holo-tab, settling in on the bed that was too comfortable, lacking in Peter’s glow-in-the-dark stickers or the suspicious engine oil smell of the Milano to keep her company. Gamora had long muted the girls’ chat group since it was an endless string of chatter, though she did occasionally pop in to check on them. Her other most used conversation thread as of late was Peter.

Peter: hey just a warning the avengers asked me some stuff about you today

Peter: i said the terran multi-tool i gave you was an anniversary gift

Peter: i also said you like to cuddle

Peter: i’d say sorry but both are kind of true

She couldn’t help but snort in laughter, reading the messages in Peter’s voice in her head. Things had been a little tense between them since their dance in the hotel room, but if anyone was going to lighten up the mood, it was him.

Gamora: i’ll accept the first and deny the second

Gamora: mantis has already run out of twizzlers. we’ve only been gone for three days

She glanced around for a moment, wondering if she should grab her homework and bring it back to her bunk. Then again, her brain was still weighing heavily on everything that was going on with Nebula - even her stomach was a little queasy - so she probably wouldn’t be as productive as she’d like. Surprisingly, Peter responded about thirty seconds later.

Peter: WHAT

Peter: i packed her like two whole bags plus a package of nibs??

Peter: i did that as a JOKE

Peter: i’m taking her to a dentist when you guys get back

Gamora felt like she was going crazy, laughing to herself so hard that she was curled up on her side, clutching at her stomach. She imagined that if Drax and Mantis could hear, they’d probably think something was wrong.

Peter: so any luck?

Gamora: we sent a message to the nova station four hours ago and nothing. we’ll land at midnight if we still get no response

Peter: aw that sucks. i’d tell you to be careful but it’s kind of an unspoken thing at this point :p

Peter: btw if you’re looking for something to do, i put a few movies on mantis’s holo. stuff you’ve already seen though

Gamora: that’ll be helpful, we’re already quite bored. have you been watching anything new?

Peter: had a couple in mind but i thought i’d save it for when you get back

Peter: i like that we’ve got some traditions going on :)

Her laughter had come to a stop as she rested her head on her pillow, staring at the last two messages with a sort of awe. He’d said it before about their game of 20 Questions, how it was something that brought them closer, but there was something touching about how Peter would nonchalantly mention he was saving something so he could specifically share it with her. Before, it had been movies he’d seen as a child, movies he’d already watched on the recommendation of other Terran students who were excited to tell Peter about new things in their culture. But now it was a simple pleasure he denied himself because he wanted her to be a part of it, too.

It was times like this where Gamora wished she remembered things about her people, her home, to share as well. Drax still had such fond memories of his family, despite having lost them in such a brutal manner. Rocket and Yondu had rather traumatizing origins, so neither had a home to speak of. But she and Mantis were taken when they were young, so unsure of what they came from and who they could have been. And now, everyone was starting to pick up mannerisms and habits from Peter, not just because they were on his home planet, but because he soaked up every moment of his culture and wanted the others to experience it with him.

Gamora: i enjoy it too.

______

As the days passed, the Guardians that remained at the Academy were given less and less leeway. It wasn’t that people didn’t feel sorry for them, it was that there was only so much sympathy to give. The others had straightened up a little, gotten back into their typical ways, but Peter continued feeling oddly morose. They’d been gone for a week and a half now, having found only dead bodies at the Nova post and stopped over at the Kyln to find more dead bodies and traumatized witnesses, and were now wondering, reluctantly, if they should come back.

The messages, though light-hearted at first, became more emotionally distant as time went on. Even Mantis, who usually had something chipper to say whenever she checked in with Peter, didn’t sound very optimistic in her last correspondence. Drax was down to very short sentences or even one to two-word answers, and Gamora…

She sounded tired. Exhausted of all her options, of where Nebula was and if she was, dare they say it, alive. Peter wanted to be there for her, but he knew that splitting them up was the smartest thing to do. If both leaders of the team were off-planet, things would get chaotic, fast.

He rolled over onto his back, staring at the ceiling. He’d taken to holing himself up in his dorm room more than usual, while the others practically lived on the Milano, with Rocket distracting himself with repairs, and Groot keeping him company as always. He knew Yondu especially would tease him about missing Gamora, but it was true. As much as he wanted to lie and say he missed Mantis most, he just didn’t. Gamora was a steady hand, a welcome presence in every aspect of his life, and now she was struggling out there, and he couldn’t do anything to help.

There was also the fact that Yondu had put that stupid idea in Peter’s head - a crush on Gamora? Sure, he had been attracted to her when they first met, wouldn’t say no if she actually wanted to date him, but...Peter sighed. He had nothing. There was nothing he could do or say for plausible deniability. He had a crush the size of the entire galaxy on his best friend.

He reached over to grab his tablet, scrolling back through their conversation history. The jokes, the gentle ribbing, the sometimes-serious discussion about what to do next. And then, at the very bottom, sat almost mockingly:

Peter [unsent]: i can’t wait til you’re back. i miss you.

a/n: this chapter is definitely more character-driven than plot-driven, but i wanted to give a peek inside their heads every now and then so y’all can understand where they’re coming from

peter, my sweet summer child, please do yourself a favour and send that message

[jugniofrp]

✠ ❢ - kriya canon

(canon) [ ✠ ] it’s three in the morning and my muse unexpectedly arrives at your muse’s home.

Krish Malhotra knew Mumbai pretty well considering he'd been living here for so many years of his life. And yet when he heard about the threat of terrorism in an area that was /somewhat/ close to where Tanya was staying, he jumped into his car.

He knew it was the dumbest move he could make, because with one call to the commissioner and he could ensure Tanya having the utmost protection at her run down little building. But that wouldn't be enough because he wouldn't be able to make sure she was okay.

Of course, it was nearing 3 am, so he couldn't even call her and ask her if she was okay. No, he'd only disturb her once he was there. But they weren't--there was something there between them, but neither of them had given it a name yet. They enjoyed spending a lot of time together but defining this relationship wasn't high on their priority list.

The truth was, Krish was finding himself falling for her, and perhaps that's why he wanted nothing more than to make sure she was safe. As he drove north to her area of the city, he ended up passing the area under threat and saw a lot of officers there on duty; causing him to feel slight guilt at how he was so ready to call in favours and get protection for her, when he was very able to do that himself.

Krish arrived outside her home a couple minutes later, taking the elevator up to her floor in silence before he turned to face her front door. It was so late, how would she open the door without thinking he was some robber or rapist? That's why he didn't ring the doorbell, instead, he knocked softly before clearing his throat. "Tanya, are you awake? It's Krish, from your gallery,"

Shouting his full name could very well land him in trouble and so it was best to bring up the gallery, especially since he did frequent it every single evening once his shooting finished.

The door open moments later, with a very tired looking Tanya Sen on the other side. She blinked at him a few times before grabbing him by the collar and tugging him inside.

"What are you doing here?" She tightened the fluffy robe she was wearing over her pajamas. "It's like 3 in the morning Krish. If this is your way to invite someone to go partying or something--you should've called first."

He only laughed at her words before shaking his head and reaching for her, his fingers curling around the sleeve of her fluffy robe before he tugged her towards him. They'd hugged before, but this moment was different because he'd been really so worried about her which told him, his feelings weren't really quite so dismissible.

"There was a terrorist attack, a little away from here but I--"

His words were left incomplete because her arms had wrapped around his torso now too, her grip on his hoodie tight as she kept him pressed against her.

While he'd have asked in any other scenario why she was hugging him as if there was no tomorrow, he didn't right now--because really it sent a sense of relief through him. She didn't find him ridiculous or idiotic for allowing his thoughts to get the best of him.

Krish didn't know it yet, but that moment was going to cement their relationship even more in his eyes as time went on. She allowed him to be his somewhat neurotic self and he loved that.

(canon) [ ❢ ] my muse discovers yours all bloodied and bruised.

Krish had been away on shoot for the last two months and he DESPISED it. He never used to really, going out of the country for shoots were always one of his favourite things but now it meant leaving Tanya behind and when he was forced to leave her behind—he hated it.

They were in a relationship, yes, but he still wasn’t sure how open she’d be to being taken for foreign trips like this and he didn’t want it to seem at all like he was trying to buy her affections. not to mention that his last serious relationship with Radha had been so different in terms of how she viewed him spending his money on her; basically she hated it and that made him feel worse too because he wasn’t trying to show off or anything like that, but he just liked spoiling the people close to him.

But while Tanya wasn’t like that, he was still too wary of ruining it already. Wha the felt with her, was similar to what he’d felt before with Radha but somewhere it was still so different. It was almost like the broken parts of their souls had found each other before Tanya and Krish really had even realized. They wouldn’t talk about their pasts too much yet, but he could see the sadness in her eyes, it was the same look he had when he looked in the mirror in complete solitude. It’s why in some ways, he believed they were always meant to meet, meant to fall together, meant to find one another.

Krish wouldn’t admit these things though, not yet because he knew how people reacted to his overly romantic self and he didn’t want to scare Tanya away.

But as he unlocked his front door, he could hear Shanta tai talking in raised voices and that made him curious especially since the elderly woman was rarely heard speaking so loudly. That’s when he caught the strange man in the white coat in his living room, peering over—ohmygod! Tanya was lying on his couch, looking completely bruised and in pain. There was some blood spilling from her bottom lip, her forehead had a purplish bruise that seemed to be growing and her eyes were shut tightly as if she was trying not to show how much pain she was really in.

“Tanya! What happened?”

“Krish baba,” the older woman took his bags from him, taking him to the side as she told him how Tanya had shown up here just a few hours ago, barely able to walk from the taxi into their home and so Shanta tai had instantly called the doctor who was still looking over her.

“But what happened?” His voice was low now, and he looked over at her thankful to see that her eyes were open and she was staring back at him, but with no expression on her face. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, but until the doctor was gone and she was in his arms again—Krish wasn’t going to rest easy. “Does she need to go to the hospital? How bad are her injuries? What happened?”

The doctor simply looked up at Krish from his position on the ground and glared at him. “If you’ll relax Mr. Malhotra, I can tell you that Miss. Tanya Sen is perfectly alright. Yes, she had a bit of an incident a while ago, but she’s alright now.”

Tanya slowly inched up on the couch so that her back was supposed by the arm of it while she reached out for Krish, only for him to sit down on the edge next to her while Shanta tai took the doctor back out to the foyer.

“What—what happened?” Krish reached over, his hand brushing back the hair from her forehead, leaning over to press his lips ever so gently against her bruise. “Are you—sach mein tum theek ho na?”

Tanya only nodded, choosing instead to reach for him so that she could allow him to cradle her close and Krish easily obliged. He wouldn’t pretend to know what she was going through right now but he knew it had left her shaken.

She spoke quietly, in hitched breaths about how robbers had shown up at her place, threatened her with a blade while she’d given them whatever she had. Thankfully she’d kept most of her belongings at the gallery tonight since she was planning on staying over to work on her latest piece. But they’d been unsatisfied with what she’d given them and that’s when they tried to attack her with the knife, they’d also tried to get physical with her. Tanya hadn’t allowed them to come any closer, grabbing the nearest vase and slamming it in their direction before choosing to run out of her place, leaving everything but her iPhone behind as she got into the closet taxi, refusing the driver’s help to get to a hospital and rattled off Krish’s address instead.

“But I wasn’t going to be home until tomorrow—I just happened to catch an early flight—you still wanted to be here?”

Tanya only nodded before looking up at him through hooded eyelashes. “Being here, in your home—I feel safe again. As if nothing could hurt me and—maybe somewhere I knew you’d be home, I don’t know. Maybe I’m too delirious thanks to the medication.”

But Krish shook his head. She wasn’t delirious, he believed somewhere her subconscious had known this was where she needed to be and it led her here so that Krish could do what he so wanted to—take care of her the way she deserved to be taken care of.

“Move in with me. I know it’s too soon, and I don’t want it to seem like I’m trying to take advantage of you. I mean—you know, I’m okay with us taking this slow—but I don’t feel like that place is safe for you at all,”

Krish was waiting for her answer but it seemed like Tanya wasn’t in the mood to say anything verbally and so when she wrapped her arms around him tightly, he knew her answer.

[littledraga]

Losing the Light

This is a companion piece to Surviving the Darkness and should probably read those first so Link!

https://littledraga.tumblr.com/post/161701699070/surviving-the-darkness-part-1

https://littledraga.tumblr.com/post/161821645890/surviving-the-darkness-part-2

https://littledraga.tumblr.com/post/161896672120/surviving-the-darkness-part-3-final?is_related_post=1

Some shield he was, Gladiolus thought to himself slowly swirling the last of his whiskey in it’s glass. Getting on that boat was the worst decision of his life, even if he really had no choice. Ignis lost his sight, than they lost Prompto on the train. At least they had managed to find the kid. No one noticed how much they needed him to keep them together until then. It had been their only mercy, but they hardly had time to digest everything before Noctis disappeared. Swallowed up by the Crystal he was supposed to protect.

Taking the last drink, Gladiolus waved for another, not bothering to look up from the glass in front of him. He had already lost count of his drinks, but he was still thinking. Thinking about how after everything had happened, Prompto was still smiling, strained and forced but he smiled for them none the less. Made him a little jealous, but he was grateful for the boy.

Not that he was any good at showing it. He snorted to himself as his glass was refilled, this time he raised his hand to keep the bottle. Reluctantly it stayed. For as grateful as he was for Prompto, all he had managed to do was hurt him and make him cry. He remembered Prompto leaning against Ignis, chewing his lip as tears ran down his face, pretending to nap against him. Ignis would wrap an arm around him, free hand placed over the bar code. If times were better, Gladiolus would have teased them for it, how Prompto calmed like a small child getting their favorite toy or blanket. Instead it made his chest tight, Prompto was still a kid, Niflheim or not, the blond was never meant to go through all this. He was just supposed to be the prince’s friend going along for the ride. Throwing gil on the table, Gladiolus walked out of the bar, bottle in hand.

He could make his way back to the room he shared with Talcott and Dustin while he finished the bottle. Swaying as he walked down the streets, he was too far gone to notice the dirty looks people gave him as he worked his way through the maze like streets of the city. Nursing the bottle, Gladiolus winced as the bitter burn filled his mouth. In no time, or maybe it had been a couple hours, he was unsure, the bottle was empty.

Looking around, the large man grumbled, he had never seen this part of the city before. Walking through a few more streets, he was sure he was making progress, getting somewhere. Still unsure where he was, he at least recognized some of the stalls, until the path gave way to the street. The light of the disc glowing in the distance. Bringing the bottle to his lips, Gladiolus grumbled when he remembered it was empty, tossing it over his shoulder and into a bin.

Making his way to the street, he felt himself falling backwards, bouncing against something, as a car came flying by, laying on their horn. Gladiolus raised a single finger salute to the driver and stumbled his way across the street. He nearly fell down the stairs, but he always jerked back at the last second. Past the cars and stalls, he found a table set out and sunk onto the bench. Looking out to the Disc again, it was getting harder to focus. The last thing he remembered before waking up in his room was something yellow, wrapped around him and warm.

The sound of Prompto yelling his name made Gladiolus stop, and he gave a sigh of relief. Turning his torso, the man looked at the younger and smiled, “Glad you came to your senses. Come on, those Giants wont kill themselves.” Turning back, Gladiolus missed the way Prompto’s cheeks puffed out, and how he crossed his arms over his chest as he walked a step behind the taller man.

Reaching the small cluster of Red Giants, Gladiolus readied his sword. From the corner of his eye he saw his friend do the same with his gun, stepping back and to the side. Prompto started off the fight with Starshell, covering the battle field in light, and Gladiolus took his cue and charged. Sword high over his head, the once shield leapt into the air, crashing the blade against the closest Giant, cracking the beast metal skin.

Gun shots ran in his ear and Prompto let lose a barrage of bullets into the open flesh. Gladiolus laughed, the kid was better at this than he remembered, charging in again. His next swing knocked the deamon over, struggling to stand. Both boys took their chance, blasting it with everything they had, leaving it tittering on the edge.

As the battle continued, Gladiolus found himself watching Prompto as he quickly switched between his gun and machines. A well time gravitywell tied the Giants together, giving Gladiolus a chance to swing at them all at once, one of them falling back into the inky black they had come from.

“Good job, Prom! Keep up the good work.” Gladiolus cheered, as he went to the next monster, swinging again. More than once they had to pull back and regroup, trying to catch their breaths, dodging as the beasts swung. Eventually the last Red Giant fell, black oozing around them as it sunk back into the ground. As the ink faded, Prompto collapsed to the ground, a hand raised as he tried to cheer.

“We did it! Three Red Giants with just the two of us, man.” Gladiolus laughed and sat next to the gunner, opting to lay next to him shortly after. Both their chests heaved as they caught their breath, and laughed just for the joy of being alive. Once their breath tapered off, Prompto looked to Gladiolus, grinning still.

“Hey, you remember the first time we saw one of those things, just outside Galdin Quay?” Prompto paused, both of them chuckled at the memory.

“We got so scared we bailed out of the car, still sitting in the middle of the road. I thought I was going to wet myself looking at that thing. We all just ran down the hill, and straight for the caravan.” Prompto held his stomach as he laughed again, they had spent the night awake, staring out the windows of the caravan, waiting for the Giant to leave the car so they could retrieve it.

“Damned thing walked around the car all night, until the sun chased it away,” Gladiolus added. It had been embarrassing come morning, having to walk back up the hill as cars drove around the Regalia. Luckily no one called them out on it, they were embarrassed all the same as they stood near by, waiting for a break in traffic.

Rolling up to sit, Gladiolus moved to stand, offering a hand to Prompto. Back on their feet, they made their way back to the city, and the safety of the lights. The trip was cheerful, the most the two had talked since they left for Altissia. Once they reached the Noodle vender, Gladiolus turned to Prompto.

“I’ll go turn in the hunt, you can go ahead and head back if you want. I need a drink.” He missed Prompto’s concerned face as he turned away, alcohol on his mind.

Time went on, and Gladiolus was becoming familiar with all the bars in Lestallum. Many of them had places to sit outside and people watch, those were his favorites. People were still clinging to what hope they could find, though it was fading. They were just as likely to greet each other as sneer, or fight. Gladiolus found himself thankful that Noctis was able to miss this, it would have broken him to see how much everyone hurt. He drank more when he thought about Noctis.

As he watched, he paid special attention if he saw Prompto, and Ignis if he was with him. After the first fight about taking Ignis, he seemed to be getting happier, Gladiolus wished there was a way to let them know he was grateful Ignis was smiling again. Any time he thought he had worked up- the curage to talk to the blind man, he was gone.

What he noticed more than Ignis’ smile, was how much he saw Prompto. Often he would be working in or around stalls, or carrying boxes or goods around the city. He noticed if anyone stopped to ask the boy a favor, he was more than willing, no matter how minor the task. Helping the citizens in the city wasn’t the only thing he was doing alone. He caught Prompto turning in his fair share of solo hunts, usually already covered in bandages. The kid had to be cutting it close with those hunts, taking on more than he should. Gladiolus wanted to yell at him, pull him aside and tell him to stop burying everything, but looking at the glass in his hands, he knew he had no room to talk. At least Prompto was being useful.

He changed his mind on where he stood with how much Prompto did when the blond dropped before they could even accept a hunt. He had been unusually quiet, but he had assumed Prompto had only recently woken up.

Going over details with the tipster, he suddenly felt Prompto leaning against him. Moving to wrap an arm around him, Gladiolus was prepared to tease him, but stopped when he felt Prompto sliding down. Turning quickly he scooped the younger up, giving an apologetic look to the tipster before he ran to the hospital.

Once he was checked over, they let Gladiolus into the room. Sitting next to his friend he followed the needle in his arm up, and into an IV bag. The doctors had explained it was exhaustion, Prompto only need spend a couple days resting and he would be right as rain. Gladiolus found something wrong with that metaphor, but put it aside, watching his friend’s chest rise and fall in his sleep.

After only a short while, Gladiolus stood, no point sitting there if he was just sleeping. Turning to move to the door, he heard a small whine and turned. Prompto had cracked open his eyes, one hand lazily reaching for him.

“Please stay. Hospitals make me nervous.” Prompto spoke quietly, stuck somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. The image made Gladiolus smile fondly, he almost wished he could get a picture of it.

Nodding, Gladiolus sat back down, moving the chair to be closer to Prompto. The blond smiled, turning in the bed to face his friend.

“Thanks, Gladio.” Prompto tried to keep his eyes open as he spoke, but they fluttered. Sighing, Gladiolus reached over and gently rustled the blond’s hair, chuckling at the small whine. Flailing, Prompto managed to grab the offending hand, trapping it under his head, or maybe he was just laying on it, Gladiolus wasn’t sure. Leaning against the bed, Gladiolus let himself get as comfortable as he could as Prompto clung to his arm.

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself Prompto.” He spoke softly, nearly whispering to himself. Instead of an answer, he felt Prompto bury his face against the feathers that lined his arm. With a sigh, Gladiolus smiled a bit to himself. There were two universal truths he had learned about Prompto. When he set his mind to something, he refused to let go, he might whine about it, but there was no giving up. And that he wanted to be helpful

Trying again, he leaned his head on his shoulder, so he could whisper, “You need to take care of yourself, Prompto. Burying yourself under work does more harm than good.” He felt Prompto squeeze his arm tighter and mumble something against his skin. Letting out a confused hum, he moved his arm to give Prompto a nudge. This time Prompto looked up at him, his mouth tight before he spoke.

“At least it’s better than drinking.” Blinking, Gladiolus sat still, looking down at the blond who still held his arm. He should be angry, Gladiolus thinks, but instead, he just nods his head. There was no point in denying it, he was drinking just as much as he was working. However, “I don’t let drinking get in the way of hunts. You’ve worked yourself so hard you’re laying in a hospital bed.”

Grumbling, Prompto narrowed his eyes before laying back down. Gladiolus laughed, laying his free hand over Prompto’s hair, smoothing it. Things were never going to change, not until Noctis came back, but for now, this was alright. If he could keep Prompto and Ignis safe, he thinks everything will be alright.

Prompto was making his job very difficult. He had found Gladiolus in the small training area that they had created to prepare new hunters, practicing himself. Running over, his normal bubbly self, Gladiolus couldn’t help but smile back as his sword flashed into blue light.

“Gladio! Don’t you think your muscles are big enough?” Laughed the blond, reaching into a bag slung over his shoulder. Holding up a bottle of water, he offered it to Gladiolus who took it gratefully.

“Thanks,” taking a drink, he smiled before he continued, “After you were in the hospital, I figured I’d try being useful instead.” Prompto’s face broke into a grin, Gladiolus half expected him to hug him, or squeal with how much excitement was pouring off the kid. Reaching out, he ruffled Prompto’s hair again, laughing at how he squawked at the contact, but he never stopped smiling.

Pushing the offending hand away, Prompto rocked on his heels, grinning like a Cheshire cat. Looking up at him, Gladiolus raised a brow, that grin was never good.

“Then why don’t you train with me and Iggy? I’m going to set up some special targets so he can listen for them.” Sometimes, Gladiolus hated being right. A cold and bitter feeling coiled in his stomach at the thought of Ignis out on hunts. No matter how hard he tried to think otherwise, the idea of Ignis fighting always brought the thought of blood.

His face twisted, why couldn’t Prompto understand that Ignis was safer inside the city? By now he had forgotten how often the three had fought about Ignis fighting, and yet he still failed to get through to them.

Without a word, he shouldered past Prompto, leaving the training area. Prompto tried to follow him, yelling out to him. Feeling a hand wrap around his wrist, Gladiolus grumbled, yanking his hand free.

“I need a drink.” He spoke without stopping, looking for the bar farthest away from where they stood. He left Prompto standing at the edge, desperately clutching the bag, fighting back tears.

As weeks past, Gladiolus found himself drinking closer to the training area. He swore to himself that it was just that he liked the whiskey, but he was hard to believe as he watched people come from training. From his distance, he could hear the machines Prompto had made, the sound of metal thumping against wood.

The sound was quickly drowned out by the sound of metal clashing against the targets. It sounded like Ignis was hitting them, but it was hard to know for sure, but the sound of Prompto cheering was promising.

Taking another drink, Gladiolus smiled to himself. Maybe Prompto was right, if Ignis was doing this well at training eventually he might be able to take on hunts with them again. Gladiolus was brought back from his musings as he saw them make their way by a short time later. He hadn’t meant to stare like he had, but Prompto needing to turn away, something about getting dinner, made it clear he had made him uncomfortable. With a sigh, Gladiolus stood and followed the two, it was time to figure things out.

At first everything was running smoothly. Occationally Ignis would need a verbal cue, but he was fighting well enough on his own otherwise. Unfortunately that was sort lived, and as they took on bigger enemies, Ignis was proving to need more and more help. Gladiolus tried to go easy on Ignis, hoping he just needed more time, but the changes were not coming fast enough for his liking. He was worried he would lose Ignis again.

“What were you thinking, Iggy?” He shouted, nearly in the blind man’s face, arms outstretched at his sides. Ignis perused his lips together, trying to ignore the other man, hoping he would simply walk away, but he held no such luck.

“You can’t let yourself get cornered like that. We can’t watch you every second of the battle, what if Prompto hadn’t noticed the Ronin had you surrounded?” Gladiolus’ eyes widened as he heard Ignis growl and bare his teeth. No matter how angry he had gotten, Ignis had always managed to keep some semblance of composure, but now, he acted like a cornered beast.

“I’m not the only one that has Prompto watch out for him. I’ve heard him yell out for you, and heard him shoot to cover you.” Adjusting the glasses that Ignis used to cover the scars, he let out a huff, trying to calm himself before he spoke again, “Speaking of covering, I know you’re bleeding. Let’s get you patched up and get back to Lestallum.” Before they had a chance to start fighting again, Prompto had stepped in with their medical kit.

Everything got impossibly worse when they set out to stop five Red Giants that were pushing closer to the city. With the addtion of three more hunters, they took the hunt. There was no way to ignore the difficulty of the hunt, the Giants packed tightly together. On Ignis’ suggestion, they split them in half, three for them and the other two for the new hunters. Prompto had suggested that they fight defensivly and get ready to get away if things got hairy. Three giants were tough, but he promised as soon as they could, they would come help them.

Gladiolus found them after the battle. The earth around them was scortched, black marks marring the ground where it burned. In the distance, he could hear the groaning sounds of the Giants, and laughter of imps. They must have been ambushed. They were laying together, blood pooling around them, deep gashes adorn their bodies. In the darkness, Gladiolus was unable to find their weapons, but the image was enough to show Gladiolus what happened.

Weapons taken from them, backed into a corner huddled together in fear. They probably called out for help, their voices drowned out by their own fight. Gladiolus can hear them in his mind, torn to pieces as they begged to be saved. His stomach clenched, he tried not to vomit as the smell of blood curled around him. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward, carefully taking the dog tags off each of them, ignoring the blood that dripped off them. His voice left him, until Prompto was safely sedated in a hospital bed.

“We shouldn’t have listened to you Iggy,” Gladiolus murmured, sitting on a chair near the end of the hospital bed that held Prompto. Ignis looked up, lifting his head from the edge of the bed. He had been resting there, waiting to hear the change of Prompto’s breathing, hoping he would wake up soon.

“There was no way for us to know they would be ambushed. It was,” he paused licking his lips and taking a deep breath, “Most unfortunate.” At his words, Gladiolus stood quickly, the chair knocking back and clattering to the floor. Ignis jumped at the sound, nearly falling from his place. Quickly he checked Prompto, making sure he was still asleep, but Gladiolus wasted no time before he started screaming.

“Unfortunate? Are you serious, Ignis? They’re dead, fucking dead, because of your damned strategy.” Ignis opened his mouth, ready to retort, but was left mouth agape as Gladiolus continued.

“The fight in Altissia must have taken more than your sight, we should have stuck together.” Ignis’ voice  wavered, but he stood tall, staring through the larger man.

“And how do you think that would have gone? We would have likely all died if we tried to take them all at once.”

“We should have split them up like we did and just took them on together in waves. If we were together the imps wouldn’t have been that much more of a challange.” Ignis looked at Gladiolus as if he had lost his mind, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he was sure he had.

“We were able to seperate them because we had distracted them with the two groups. Or would you of rather had them waltz into the city that was void of hunters while we took out some of them.” Taking a step closer to Ignis, he grabbed his collar, dragging him up to face him.

Gladiolus felt tears welling up in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. Everything was crashing down around him, and it was harder to keep himself from breaking. Noctis was gone, and Prompto was laying in a hospital bed. Three hunters were dead, Gladiolus felt like a broken Shield, unable to protect anyone. Even Ignis was beyond what he could protect.

Dropping his oldest friend, he retrieved the chair he had upturned, moving it to the other side of Prompto’s bed. Without looking at Ignis, he sat, taking a small pale hand in his, watching the fall and raise of his chest.

“We shouldn’t have taken you with us.” While watching Prompto, Gladiolus missed how Ignis’ face broke at his words. Holding onto the railing of the hospital bed to keep himself upright, trying to deny any deep meaning held in those words. There was a long silence, before Gladiolus heard the door open and shut, leaving him alone wth Prompto.

Glaring down at the bottle of an empty beer bottle, Gladiolus sighed. He did hate how he was hiding behind the bottle, but he was unsure what else to do. Nothing he did turned out right. He wanted to protect Ignis, but locking up in the city treating him like a caged animal as Prompto had put it, saved no one.

Waving for another beer, he lay his face in his hands. Prompto. Kid, no that was unfair, he wasn’t just some kid. Prompto was able to stand on his own, better than he could now, and still smile. Was the only reason Gladiolus still laughed, he thought a bit morosely.

Taking the offered beer, he quickly took a long pull, trying to drown everything he was feeling. He wanted to keep drinking, until nothing could hurt him anymore. Raising his hand, he was preparing to do just that, when he heard his name. At first he ignored it, obviously his imagination playing tricks on him. With the damage to his ribs, Prompto should be in bed, but the voice came again, quieter, but desperate.

Stepping outside, he had to make sure the voice really was in his head, there was no way Prompto would be out. Instead, he saw Prompto, arms clutching his sides as he tried running down the alley. Prompto was yelling out for him, but his eyes were unseeing as he ran straight into Gladiolus. Reaching out, he steadied his friend, looking down at him concerned.

“Prompto, what’s wrong? You shouldn’t be moving around so much right now.” Using a hand still on Prompto’s shoulder, he tried to guide him back to the hotel. Prompto grabbed his arm, bouncing in place.

Gladiolus felt his blood go cold as Prompto tried to explain what was happening. He had found drugs in their room, and found the door blocked. Ignis was hardly the kind to find such a terrible vice, he knew there had to be something more going on than an addiction. Panic clutching at his chest, he stepped back into the bar, yanking a chair away from the table. Once he had gotten Prompto settled he stood and turned away.

“Okay, just stay here. I’ll be back, I promise.” Turning on his heels, Gladiolus ran. Through the streets, pushing anyone away if they blocked his path.  People yelled after him, but he could only hear the blood rushing in his ears as the panic took hold of him. Skidding as he turned, trying to get the stairs, he ignored the dirty he from the recepitonist, flying up the stairs two at a time.

There was no need to try and figure out which door it was, and he quickly slammed into it. The door jarred, but did not open enough for him to get by. Stepping back, he tried again, throwing his shoulder into the door. It gave way enough he could see inside, Ignis had pushed the dresser over to block the door. Taking a step to try again he shouted, “Iggy, come on, don’t do this.” Another slam, and the door was enough open that Gladiolus forced his way through, one hand on the door the other on the wall pulling himself in.

Once in, his breath caught in his throat. Ignis was sitting on the floor, leaning against the foot of the farthest bed. Blood trickled down his arm from a hole small enough Gladiolus couldn’t see. Pressed against his arm, Ignis was pressing the needle into his arm again, filling his vein with a cloudy liquid.  His head was slumped forward, and he refused to respond to Gladiolus entering the room, but if he had the strength to take another dose he must still be okay, he hoped. Hurrying over to Ignis, he knelt before him, trying to get his attention.

“Iggy, come on, talk to me.” Ignis looked up to the sound of Gladiolus’ voice, but he made no other signs of being coherent. Looking down, Gladiolus could see the bag Prompto mentioned, a lot of it seemed to have spilled on the floor. There was no way of knowing how much he had taken.

Afraid of wasting too much time, Gladiolus put a hand around Ignis’ back, and the other under his legs. Standing quickly, he shoved the dresser out of the way, running back down the stairs. As he ran he kept checking on Ignis, his breath was coming our shorter and shorter. Gladiolus shook him, trying to keep him awake and breathing.

“Come one, Iggy. You’ve gotta stay with me, please.” It was getting harder to tell if the blind man was still breathing. He stopped to check for his pulse. It was there, barely. His own heart picked up speed, hammering in his chest. Reaching the hospital, he shouldered through the door, looking for a doctor or nurse. There was hardly a wait as three nurses came running to him, all of them asking questions at once. Before he could answer one left to get a gurney.

“He was over dosing on, I think it was heroin, it was white powder. He mixed it with water and,” He adjust Ignis in his arms to show them the needle marks. As the third nurse came back, the first two gave each other strange looks before asked, “Does he have a history of drug use?”

Gladiolus shook his head as he spoke, “No, you have to fight to get him to take an aspirin.” They nodded to each other before they took him away, one staying behind and resting a reassuring hand over his.

“If you just found him, he should be alright. We’ll get him through this.” He gave her an appreciative nod before he moved to sit down and wait for a doctor. As he sat, he thought about getting Prompto, but he was afraid to leave. He needed to be there when Ignis came to, he needed to talk to Ignis. Everything was his fault and he knew it. Gladiolus knew how hard he was trying to feel normal, but he was stuck on his own fear.

His thoughts were interrupted by a doctor clearing his throat. Standing immediately, Gladiolus tried to ask, but was stopped by the doctor’s raised hand.

“He’s going to be fine. You got him here in time, but we’re going to keep him here at least over night just to make sure. It will take a while for the drugs to leave his system so he may be less than responsive, but it’s normal.” Gladiolus nodded, making his way to the room Ignis lay in.

Standing at the door, he raised his hand to knock, but held still. It was his fault Ignis was here, he had no right to be. He should just leave and never turn back, if he left, Ignis would be safe. Leaning against the door, he took a breath, trying to calm himself. That was the best move, but he wanted to be selfish, he wanted to say goodbye.

Slipping into the room, he saw Ignis propped up on the pillows, head tilted to the sound of the opening door. Gladiolus swallowed down his fear and took a step into the room.

“H-hey, Iggy,” Gladiolus spoke barely over a whisper, as he stepped closer to the bed. Ignis had made no attempt to move once he heard Gladiolus’ voice, he was unsure if it was the drugs or if he was hoping Gladiolus would disappear. He could hardly blame him if that was the case.

Taking a seat near the bed, he lay a hand on the white sheets. Looked down at his hand, afraid to look up at Ignis. While he tried to collect his thoughts, tried to find the words to say, he felt the weight of Ignis’ hand covering his, he smiled.

“I’m sorry, Ignis, for,” He paused letting out a sigh, “for this, for everything.” Silence hung between them, and Gladiolus felt the guilt in his chest. He was not deserving of Ignis’ forgiveness, but he needed to let him know.

When he felt Ignis squeeze his hand, Gladiolus sobbed. Placing his other hand over Ignis’, he lay his forehead against them, his shoulders shaking. It was the first time Gladiolus had cried in longer than he could remember. Always stead fast, strong and sturdy, but the Shield was broken and he let himself crumble. Even if only this once, he let himself break completely, heavy sobs as his hands tightening their grip.

He held onto Ignis as his life line, and Ignis let him. Laying in bed, he closed his eye, letting his friend cry and break. Ignis smiled for a brief moment, as the sobs subsided, but the smile fell when he heard Gladiolus. The large man had begun apologizing, over and over like a personal mantra. He strung them together, and began apologizing for each of his discrepancies. Reaching out, Ignis found Gladiolus’s hair, and gently carded his fingers through them, until he felt Gladiolus shift to look up at him.

“Don’t worry, Gladio. I forgive you. I know you didn’t mean any harm.”

He stopped, feeling Gladiolus lift his hand and bring it back to the bed. Gladiolus shook his head even if it was useless.

“Don’t act like it’s okay, Iggy. You’re laying in a hospital bed for gods’ sake. Nothing about this is okay!” His voice shook, and tears still fell from his eyes, but he had to make sure Ignis understood.

“I was afraid, of losing you, like we lost Noctis. I don’t want to lose anyone else close to me, and that fear made me nearly lose you. It did make me lose you.” He felt his throat get tight again, but he pushed past it, “Trying to protect you just pushed you, and Prompto away from me. I lost you both trying to protect you.” He heard Ignis sigh, and smiled, it was an annoyed sigh, but a fond one as well.

“We’ve all done things we regret. There’s no shame in admitting we did stupid things out of fear. All this time we’ve spent, caring for Noctis, watching him grow and prepare to be king. We were never prepared for what was to happen if we had lost him.” Ignis gave his hand a squeeze, they were both broken, Gladiolus understood that. The only difference was how they fell apart.

“Hey, Iggy. Can I ask? Why’d you do it that way? Would have never guessed you as a guy to do that kind of stuff.” Gladiolus looked confused as Ignis gave a small laugh, stopping to catch his breath. After taking a moment to gather himself, “It’s a useless thing, heroin. I figured if I used that, I wasn’t wasting any resources, at least not important ones.”

It was Gladiolus turn to laugh, even when he was so far gone, Ignis was still thinking ahead, a true strategist. They really would be better off without him, at least he could leave knowing they were in good hands, each others. Standing from his seat, he let go of Ignis’ hand.

“Thank you, Iggy.” Stepping away from the bed, he made his way to the door, stopping when he heard Ignis make a confused sound. He turned and gave him a smile he couldn’t see, “I’m glad you and Prompto have each other to hold each other up. Take care of the kid, Iggy, he needs you.” Stepping out of the room, he moved out of the way of the nurses, and heard them tell Ignis it was time to check his vitals again.

Stopping by his room, Gladiolus grabbed what little he had, and made his way down the streets of the city. It would be easy enough, join a group of hunters that was going to a different outpost, he would go between Havens if he had to. Without him, Prompto and Ignis would be fine, better even.

Walking by the alley he ran into Prompto in, he looked down it, smiling. Prompto was still in the chair he had left him in, head leaning against the wall. He must have fallen asleep while he waited for him to come back.

“Sorry, Prom. One goodbye was hard enough, I hope you’ll forgive me for breaking my promise.” He continued down the street coming into view.

“Take care of Iggy for me, okay?”