#mc: malia jones

[missameliep]

Fourteen

Book: Wake the Dead

Characters: Troy Hassan & Malia Jones (MC)

Summary: Troy Hassan realizes he's in love with his best friend and would steal the stars for her.

Rate: Teen

A/N: this scene has been forever in my drafts, just a silly little thing that didn't make into the final cut of the miniseries Safe. No zombies, a bit of swearing and one very horny but very cute teen Troy.

My submission to @choicesapril2025 - prompt 19. The start of something unspoken or a slow burn that finally catches fire. (the start of their slow burn for Troy at least)

Fourteen-years-old.

That's how old Troy was when he realized his heartbeats accelerated because of Malia. The adrenaline or whatever pumping in his veins after running around the Tower, challenging each other on doing stupid and dangerous stuff - wreaking havoc, as some maliciously accused - could not be blamed for that. Not every time, at least.

That could have been a rational assumption if only lately his heart wouldn't start galloping like horses from old cowboy movies when there was no running involved or fear of getting caught.

Just a look from her and he was gone...

Perhaps the fear of getting caught was from a different kind... would that be a universal experience for boys with a one-sided crush on their best friend?

Malia and Troy became friends not longer after she was rescued and brought to the Tower with her sister Brynn. Most of their free time is spent together, but lately he wishes for more time, for more of her presence and his stomach churns whenever she picks an activity that does not include him or somebody breaks into the bubble that used to be reserved to the two of them.

Therefore, he should have known the obvious: his feelings for his best friend had morphed into something much less friendly over the past weeks. His body had been sending signals of the way Malia effected it: the heart about to burst from its cage upon meeting her, the slightest brush of her skin against his and all the hair on his body would stand on end as if they were tiny hands stretching to reach her; not to mention the heat that spread down there and another part of his anatomy that would also stretch at the mere sight of the plump of her lips or the roundness of her ass.

May Brynn never notice that!

By that time, the friends dared each other constantly, challenging one another on a number of things, like eating an ancient candy he found at a jacket’s pocket at the supply room that expired long before either of them was even born, stealing shoelaces from residents or pretending to be someone else to confuse teachers with phony accents. Though after the superglue incident and cutting Brynn’s hair while she slept, they promised to avoid extremely dangerous things.  

In his ignorance, he had assumed his body reacted the same way it did to other bodies. They didn't even need to be real, as he learned from some comics and two explicit magazines he saved from destruction and kept hidden under the mattress. However, this seemed different somehow. Perhaps the fact it was her, his best friend, a forbidden fruit he should not touch.

Until this particular afternoon, they followed that rule. 

After skipping classes and playing dares half the day, they found themselves lurking in the hallway, trying to catch glimpses of the small room the guards lounged between their shifts. 

“You sure that’s the key?” He pointed at a large silver key dangling from one of the key holders on the back wall. 

“Positive,” she whispered. “I saw De Luca taking that one.” 

“Ok.” He watched the movement inside for another moment and motioned for her to retreat and follow him to another corridor. 

Leaning his back against the wall, Troy tipped his head up, looking at a flickering lamp while contemplating a plan. Just a few inches away, Malia did the same, mimicking his position.  

Without looking at her, he instructed, “I’ll sneak in there and you stay here.” 

“Of course. It’s my dare, you got to work for it.” 

“Why you want this anyway?” 

“Stars.” 

“What?” His eyes darted to her face, and she averted her gaze taken by a sudden interest in the worn sneakers decorated with many colorful doodles. 

After a moment of deliberation, she looked up, but not at his face.

“I want to see the real stars. And the observation deck in the top is… perfect for that.” 

“And what’s in there for me, Jones?” His thumb slid repeatedly against two fingers, a motion to indicate money he learned from some mob movie. 

“Oh, man! Why are you always like that?” She punched his shoulder playfully, and he let out a breathed chuckle. “You know the rules. You pick the next dare…” 

“That’s way more dangerous than what we normally do…” 

She pushed herself off the wall and stood in front of him with a daring look. “Scared?” 

“Never.” 

“You can give up… and I get your cool jacket.” 

“I never give up.” He removed his boots and handed it to her. “If they catch me, run.” 

Her fingertips stroked the leather of the sleeve, her breath too warm, lips too tempting. He'd do it. He'd steal the stars for her! Every concern about the guards flew through the window. Not an actual window, obvious. None of the corridors or rooms at the Tower got one of those. Only the upper floor where Blackstock and his minions live has one, big enough to look at the entire valley below as some have described.

“Don’t get caught.” 

The heist didn’t take long. Avoiding the cameras and the guard dozing off in one chair, Troy made his way in and out in less than two minutes. Apparently, it was still too long for Malia’s nerves.

At the sight of him, she pulled her hand down and stopped biting at her nails. 

“So?” 

Holding the key between his fingers, he lifted it in front of her like a trophy.

“Who’s the man?” 

Malia’s face lit up with a smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes.  

“I could kiss you right now!”  

The words were like a punch, stealing the air from his lungs. But in a good way.

He sprinted but dared take a glance over his shoulder. His gaze followed the sound of boots, fearing the guards had discovered them; instead, a furious-looking Brynn was chasing after them. 

Before he could even process the perfect comeback, her face fell. The word “run” was hissed through her teeth. When he didn’t do it, the steel grip of her hand around his wrist pulled him along.

“Shit! Wasn’t she out with the scouts?” he murmured, and Malia shrugged.  

“Guess they’re back!” 

After running half the ground floor barefooted and climbing two staircases trying to escape Brynn’s fury, at the end of the hallway at the second floor, Malia found an unlocked door and shoved him inside a poorly lit storage room. 

Stumbling inside breathless, he knocked a broom on his way to the back, which knocked another one that knocked him on the back of his head. Before he could emit any sound and give away their location, one of Malia’s hands covered his mouth while her body pressed against his, using him to halt the collapsing brooms and mops.  

Her palm was calloused from hours practicing with those wood sticks and exercising in the pull up bar, but warm and for unknown reasons while it lingered against his mouth, his teenage brain started going on about how it would feel to have her mouth pressed against his instead. Or maybe her hand pressed against his – What the actual fuck? This again?  

His mind short-circuited.  

It’s not that it never occurred that Malia is a pretty girl. In his opinion, she’s the prettiest and the coolest girl around. When they were eleven, for reasons never shared with him, she dared him to kiss her. He did it, but it weirded her such that she ran away from him afterwards. They never talked about that kiss. An unspoken agreement their relationship would not include this sort of thing. 

“Troy,” Malia whispered, removing her hand from his mouth, “are you gonna puke?” 

“No!��� He shook his head and couldn’t say another word even if he had anything clever to say. 

“Because you look like you are, and I don’t wanna be anywhere near you if you are!” 

Maybe that’s what having a crush on your best friend does to you: you just feel sick to your stomach and about to throw up – which he didn’t do, by the way, not even when the door flew open and Brynn marched in, cornering them and threatening to kick their asses if they skipped classes again.  

The key passed from Troy's hand to Brynn's, and from hers back to the place where it came from. Troy couldn’t give Malia the stars she asked for, but it didn’t mean he would stop trying. He'd do anything for her, but he won't tell her that. Instead, he'll dare her to hide Brynn’s boots.

[missameliep]

OMG!!!! LILY!!! I'M SCREAMING HERE!

This is absolutely amazing! Malia looks beautiful and so perfect! The crossbow! Wow! The braided hair is just stunning! The eyes on the second one 😍 *chefs kiss*

I can't thank you enough! 💖💖💖

Malia Jones for @missameliep

Tried to do this one with the crossbow but I hate the way her hands looked so I did another one of just her. And I put her locs up cuz girl gotta keep her hair from being grabbed by any zombies or assholes she may come across. Tried to make it look like each strand was braided but not sure how well that can across haha Thanks for letting me borrow her. Now that I know what she looks like and that she also uses a machete I feel I gotta do one of her a’la Michonne.

Event Tag: @choicesmcappreciationweek (Day Two: Terrific Heroes)

My Art Ish Thing Tag (Choices Edition): @storyofmychoices @aallotarenunelma @twinkleallnight @dutifullynuttywitch @loreofyore @peonierose @trappedinfanfiction

[choicesficwriterscreations]

Meet Our MCs and OCs: J - O

@jamespotterthefirst

Open Heart F!MC: Lilac Allende

@jerzwriter

Crimes of Passion F!MC Carolina Miosotys Rose  🏳️‍🌈 (Featured: October 2023)

Open Heart (LI: Tobias Carrick) F!MC: Casey MacTavish Carrick  🏳️‍🌈 (Featured: June 2023)

Open Heart (LI: Ethan Ramsey) F!MC: Kaycee MacClennan  🏳️‍🌈

Open Heart M!OC: Tobias Carrick 

Open Heart (LI: Ethan Ramsey in T/C World) F!OC: Eva Mendoza

Open Heart F!OC: Jessica Phillips  🏳️‍🌈

Open Heart F!OC: Vivian Carrick  (Featured: September 2023)

Veil of Secrets F!MC: Astrid Vega 🏳‍🌈

Wake the Dead F!MC: Zoe Rivera

@julia-highstorms

Open Heart F!MC: Rei Sato

Wake the Dead F!MC: Kiera Tomoe  🏳️‍🌈 (Featured: March 2023)

@justyourusualash

Veil of Secrets: Ananya D’Souza 

@karahalloway 

The Royal Romance F!OC: Harper Gale   (Featured: July 2023 & September 2023 - special edition)

@khoicesbyk

The Royal Romance MC: Queen Shanelle Miller-Rys 

@korgbelmont

It Lives Within M!MC: Nick Taylor 

@kyra75

Open Heart MC: Anya Webber

@ladylamrian

Blades of Light and Shadow: Astrid Bloom

Nightbound: Alex Clarissa Fontaine (Featured: September 2023)

@lem-20

Open Heart F!MC: Cecilia Gibson

@liaromancewriter

Open Heart F!MC: Cassie Valentine (Featured: February 2024)

Open Heart F!OC: Sienna Trinh

Open Heart M!OC: Max Valentine  

@lizzybeth1986

Perfect Match: Basil Park  🏳️‍🌈

Perfect Match: Hazel Park  🏳️‍🌈

Perfect Match:  Nilukshi Sigera

The Royal Romance: Esther Noelle DuPont

@lorirwritesfanfic

Bloodbound MC: Samantha Holden

Desire & Decorum MC: Daphne Wang

Open Heart F!MC: Evelyn Bennington

Perfect Match F!MC: Natasha Park

Ride Or Die MC: Carla Mendoza

@lover-also-fighter-also

The Elementalists F!MC: Anitah Russell 🏳‍🌈

High School Story F!MC: Ria Monero 🏳‍🌈 (Featured: September 2024)

High School Story F!MC: Misha Jordan-Patel 🏳️‍🌈

High School Story: Class Act F!MC: Mila Delgado 🏳‍🌈

Open Heart M!MC: Harshith Sharma 🏳‍🌈

Veil of Secrets F!MC: Tanya Sharma

@lupinobi

The Crown & The Flame OC: Amira Castleroy

@lucy-268

Crimes of Passion F!MC: Claire Rose

Open Heart (LI: Ethan Ramsey) F!MC: Charley Valentine

Open Heart (LI: Tobias Carrick) F!MC: Samantha Carlson

@megas-choices

BOLAS F!Human!MC: Willow Parnassus

@mercedesdecorazon

Immortal Desires F!MC: Mary Lawrence

@missameliep

Blades of Light and Shadow F!MC:  Arwen of House Nightbloom

Desire & Decorum F!OC: Elizabeth Foredale

Wake the Dead: Malia Jones

@mm2305

Open Heart F!MC: Olivia Alexandra Valentine

@moominofthevalley

Crimes of Passion F!MC: Emily Rose  🏳️‍🌈

@niaellariious

Blades of Light & Shadow M!MC: Raine 

Laws of Attraction M!MC: Michael Quint 

@oh-so-youre-a-nerd​ 

The Elementalists M!MC: Dayin Torres 🏳️‍🌈 (Featured: August 2024)

Laws of Attraction: Julian Wind Velez 🏳️‍🌈

Open Heart:  A'Aek Vilaidara  🏳️‍🌈

Return to Main Masterlist

[that-autsitic-girl]

I thought of posting this for a while just to get closer to my people in different fandoms, these are

Hills(ships) I'm willing to die on

This list will get longer everytime I rewatch or remember a ship of course

Drop a fanfic name or better link if we match in a ship...

I'll add the fics at separate post and link it to every ships name

LOKI : Loki & Sylvie

SHERLOCK : Sherlock & Molly

ONCE UPON A TIME : Regina Mills & Robin Hood

ONCE UPON A TIME : Emma Swan & killian Jones

THE VAMPIRE DIARIES : Bonnie Bennett & Lorenzo (Enzo) St. John

THE ORIGINALS : Hayley Marshall & Elijah Mikaelson

LEGACIES : Lizze Saltzman & Sebastian

THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY : Diego Hargreaves & Lila

TEEN WOLF : Stiles & Malia

TEEN WOLF : Alison & Isaac

BRIDGERTON : Kate & Anthony

Special Place for my Choices : Visual Novel people

THE ROYAL ROMANCE : Drake Walker & MC

THE ROYAL MASQUERADE : Kayden Vescovi & MC

IMMORTAL DERSIRES : Cas Halow & MC

RIDE OR DIE : Logan & MC

THE ELEMENTALISTS : Beckett Harrington & MC

CRIMES OF PASSION : Tyrstan Thorne & MC

I know it's a single love choice, even if it was multiple, there's no option other than Prince Thorne

[imaginingyourfandom]

christmas prompts masterlist.

1. “Merry Christmas bitch” - Dean Winchester (Supernatural)

2. “How many Christmas lights does one person need?” - Kevin Atwater (Chicago PD)

3. “Shut up! Santa is real” - Chris Halliwell (Charmed)

4. “Why does the house smell like Santa threw up?” - Stiles Stilinski (Teen Wolf)

5. “Roses are red, violets are blue, merry Christmas bitch, I love you” - Jay Halstead (Chicago PD)

6. “Oh my god I haven’t got you a present!” - Kenny Crosby (FBI Most Wanted)

7. “It’s Christmas today?!” - Reggie (Julie and The Phantoms)

8. “No seriously I swear I saw Santa” - OA Zidan (FBI)

9. “Omg it’s a fucking reindeer” - Prince Caspian (Narnia)

10. “This tree’s bigger than my future” - Oliver Wood (Harry Potter)

11. “Why do you have playlist with just ‘all I want for Christmas is you’ and ‘last Christmas I gave you my heart’?” - Miguel Galindo (Mayans MC)

12. “No you don’t understand I need a picture with Santa!” - Michael ‘Riz’ Ariza (Mayans MC)

13. “I can’t reach the top of the tree to put the star on.” - Sam Winchester (Supernatural)

14. “Oh how convenient, some mistletoe” - Isaac Lahey (Teen Wolf)

15. “Let’s binge watch Christmas movies!” - Connor Rhodes (Chicago Med)

16. “I can’t believe we’re going to A&E on Christmas Eve” - Charles Xavier (X-men)

17. “Do you wanna build a sno-“ “no don’t you dare finish that” - Angel Reyes (Mayans MC)

18. “SNOW BALL FIGHT!” - Dean Winchester (Supernatural)

19. “You murdered my snowman” - Five (The Umbrella Academy)

20. “I don’t like hot chocolate” - Minho (The Maze Runner)

21. “Christmas isn’t just about the presents” - Angus Macgyver (Macgyver)

22. “You look like this ginger bread man” - Wendall Bray (Bones)

23. “Go to sleep, Santa isn’t real” - Evan ‘Buck’ Buckley (9-1-1)

24. “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas” - Matt Simmons (Criminal Minds)

25. “Did you just put fake antlers on the dog?” - Matt Simmons (Criminal Minds)

26. “I love Christmas more then anything” “what even more then me?” - Steve Mcgarrett (Hawaii Five 0)

27. “It’s official I hate Christmas shopping” - Derek Hale (Teen Wolf)

28. “I can’t ice skate I’ll break all my bones” - Conrad Hawkins (The Resident)

29. “Don’t you dare buy me that” - Adam Ruzek (Chicago PD)

30. “Stop smashing my ornaments” - Charlie Baker (Cheaper By The Dozen)

31. “That is the ugliest decoration I’ve ever seen” - Jace Wayland (Shadowhunters)

32. “You’ve burnt the turkey?!” - Kelly Severide ( Chicago Fire)

33. “Thoughts on Brussels sprouts?” - Ezekiel Jones (The Librarians)

34. “Fuck it let’s just get drunk” - Kelly Severide ( Chicago Fire)

35. “I don’t know how to wrap presents” - Malia Tate (Teen Wolf)

36. “This is the worse and best Christmas ever” - Prince Caspian (Narnia)

37. “Honey, where is my Santa suite?” - Bruce Banner (Avengers)

38. “I don’t think we can fight Santa” - Brooke Davis (One Tree Hill)

39. “What no that’s not daddy, that’s Santa” - Stiles Stilinski (Teen Wolf)

40. “Oh so we’re putting beer out for Santa now?” - Steve Mcgarrett ( Hawaii Five 0)

41. “I can not believe our car broke down in the middle of nowhere 3 hours before it’s officially Christmas.” - Jennifer Jareau & Her Kids (Criminals Minds)

42. “I hate work Christmas parties” - Adam Ruzek (Chicago PD)

43. “What do you mean you’re working on Christmas?!” - Matt Simmons (Criminal Minds)

44. “Babies can’t eat mince pies” - Geralt (The Witcher)

45. “You look like an elf” - Jim Street (S.W.A.T)

46. “The babies crying, the foods burning, the dogs are fighting and your calling me to see what time my family’s coming at?” - Eddie Diaz (9-1-1)

47. “I don’t like spending time with your family at Christmas” - Josh Matthews (Girl Meets World)

48. “I refuse to have a baby on Christmas” - Matt Casey (Chicago Fire)

49. “How many advent calendars does one person need?” - Bill Weasley (Harry Potter)

50. “I’m freezing, you’re warm. Hug me” - Thomas Magnum (Magnum PI)

[missameliep]

I will answer for three of my MC:

For Malia Jones (WtD) and Arwen (Blades) survival is their main challenge, the first is dealing with a zombie apocalypse and trying to keep her humanity while building a new colony, and the second has dealt with a number of menaces and is now dead, but still fighting her her survival and their loved ones and the world too (girl can't get a break).

For Elizabeth (D&D) in the Regency Era was the the societal expectations that limited someone with her background, but she rose above all of that; and in the contemporary AU there's also societal and family expectations but with the challenges of a modern and racist world.

[diegoshargreevs]

i voted for 'veronicaslodges' btw how did you get it? it's so perfect ♡ (i'm currently working with some details for the theme and mobile theme, so it's not really finished)

thanks, someone was an absolute angel and gave it to me! <3

url: 0 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | VERONICA LODGE icon:  0 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | SCOTT MCCALLtheme:  0 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | TRISH WALKERupdates tab: 0 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | JUGHEAD JONES posts:  0 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | MALIA TATEoverall:  0 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | STEVE HARRINGTON following:  no but ily <3 | i am now! | yes | forever and everextra comment: your icons are so GORGEOUS, I’m in love

[drbobbimorse]

I was tagged by the wonderful @peplumsandpitches (thanks!!!) to answer these ‘get to know me’ questions

Nickname: MC2 (squared), MC, Murry, Typhoid Mary, MC Morticia

Star Sign: Capricorn

Height: 5′6″

Last Thing I Googled: I was job hunting (been woefully unemployed since mid-September)

Favorite Musicians: Too many to name honestly. I adore Adele, Florence + the Machine, P!nk, OneRepublic, Safetysuit, Nicki Minaj, Billy Joel, Mumford & Sons, Bon Jovi; all of them are probably the only artists I’d actually pay to see in concert (seen two of them, actually). I like a lot of genres, too. Give me anything but screamo-death metal, most country and some rap and I’m good

Song Stuck in My Head: “You’re Welcome” by Jordan Fisher & Lin-Manuel Miranda -- I LOVE THIS MOVIE AND THIS VERSION OF THE SONG, DO NOT JUDGE ME!!!

Last Movie I Watched: Either Moana or Rogue One

Last TV Show I Watched: Man in the High Castle -- do yourself a favor and go watch it right now!!!

When Did You Create Your Blog?: 2013

What Kind of Stuff Do I Post: A little bit of everything. Mostly fandom related (all fandoms listed on my blog) and a lot of stuff for my characters/fics, some of my own edits or edits that friends are nice enough to make of my characters or include in their own edits

Do You Have Any Other Blogs?: Nope. I mean, I have 2 other urls saved but they’ll just link back to my regular blog

Do You Get Asks Regularly?: Not at all. It hurts the heart. If I’m bored and post an ask game, y’all should just be nice and play with me

Why Did You Choose Your URL?: Cause the MCU seemed to forget that Bobbi Morse has a fucking PhD on top of being an elite specialist spy and I needed to remind everyone that my girl is just an all-around brilliant badass who deserves some damn respect from the MCU and the fandom that vilifies her

Gender: Female

Hogwarts House: SLYTHERIN AND PROUD, HISS HISS MUTHERFUCKAS!!!

Pokemon Team: Mystic

Fave Color: Green. This was my favorite before I even knew about HP or knew I was a Slytherin, so it really worked out in my favor lmao

Average Hours of Sleep: It varies. It depends. I guess 7 is my usual

Lucky Number: Don’t have one but I like to think 7, 13 and 23 are my lucky numbers lol

Favorite Characters: Okay, well this is just impossible to answer. Bobbi Morse (obviously), Lorna Dane, Scott Summers, Charles Xavier, Zatanna Zatara, Janet Van Dyne, Kamala Khan, Miles Morales, Dinah/Laurel Lance, Ray Palmer, Kendra Saunders, Rip Hunter, Elektra Natachios, Karen Page, Frank Castle, Barbara Gordon, Edward Nygma, Jessica Jones, Luke Cage, Shades, Melinda May, Elijah Mikaelson, Hayley Marshall, Vincent Griffith, Rebekah Mikaelson, Mike Johnson, Olaf Johnson, Abbie Mills, Faith Lehane, Willow Rosenberg, Wesley Wyndam-Prince, Ruper Giles, Gwen Raiden, Annie Sawyer, George Sands, John Mitchell, Piper Halliwell, Phoebe Halliwell, Rose Tyler, Martha Jones, Donna Noble, Captain Jack Harkness, Joan Watson, Isabella of Valencia, Arianne Martell, the REAL Sand Snakes, Sansa Stark, Robb Stark, Davos Seaworth, Shireen Baratheon, Hermione Granger, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, James Wilson, Peggy Olsen, Frank Frink, Nobusuke Tagomi, Khutulun, Mei Lin, Lily Frankenstein/Brona Croft, Sam Merlotte, Lafayette Reynolds, Tara Thornton, Pam Ravenscroft, Alec Hardison, Parker, Eliot Spencer, Veronica Fisher, Mickey Bricks, Juice Ortiz, Chibs/Filip, Malia Tate, Scott McCall, Sam Winchester, Jo & Ellen Harvelle, Gabriel/Trickster, Lagertha, Athelstan, Rick Grimes, Carl Grimes, Andrea Harrison, Glenn Rhee, Rosita Espinosa, Morgan Jones, the Sense8 cluster, literally the entire cast of Z-Nation, Lost Girl, Firefly/Serenity, H2GAWM and FDTD. I’m gonna stop here, cause we’ll be here all day otherwise

How Many Blankets Do You Sleep With?: Usually 2 or 3, depends on the season and the temp the house is

Dream Job: Anything in theater or film tbh

tagging: @yeahthatotheronewhatshername, @papermoon262, @darknightfrombeyond, @deadletterpoets, @cosmic-wanda, @kisaageckos, @lydamartin, @sicklyscribe and I guess anyone else that’s interested

[missameliep]

Twenty Seconds or Twenty Years

Book: Wake the Dead Characters: Angel Savage; Eli Sipes; Malia Jones (MC) and Troy Hassan. Pairing: Malia Jones (MC) x Troy Hassan. Rating: M (see notes bellow) Word count: 6.300k Summary: After getting separated from her friends during a scouting mission in a new city, Malia got injured and will struggle to survive against all odds. Is she going to make it on her own?

Notes:

English is not my first language;

Characters belong to Pixelberry and I’m borrowing them;

Post-WTD events;

This fic is rated M because of triggering subjects: swearing; mentions of death and violence compliant to canon; mentions of injuries and blood; mention to suicide; readers discretion advised

This fic was inspired by a prompt sent by the lovely @jerzwriter - It kinda took an unexpected turn from where I thought this fic would go! Thanks for sending the prompt and I apologise it took soooo long.

Running through unknown terrain is usually a bad idea and Malia would strongly advice against it, considering how easily one could stumble directly into the arms of the undead. However, given the circumstances, the only other option left is certain death if she tries to hold her ground and fight the ‘zombiefest’ on her own with an injured arm.  

So, she runs.  

Being chased triggered Malia’s brain in survival mode.  

Adrenaline and pure will make her muscles climb another set of stairs and the next one. No amount of exercise at the colony could have prepared her for this. 

Breathe, she reminds herself, breathe. 

Dashing up, Malia reaches the next flight of stairs, barely catching her breath and a glimpse of the number six lying on the floor. 

Six.  

That’s the number of arrows shot and undead put to rest for good before a blur in her peripheral vision obfuscated everything.  

The impact knocked the air out of her lungs. Stumbling back, her body landed on a pile of debris. A sharp pain on her arm didn’t stop her from kicking back, making the decayed corpse reel back, allowing enough space for the metal tip of the arrow sunk deep into an eye socket and exit through the back of the drone’s head.  

Her brain didn’t register getting up or running. Next thing she remembers is the bang of the heavy metal door against the wall when she dashed, hisses and snarls following too close...    

Heart pounding in her ears, almost muffling the sound of her own steps and those of her chasers, she climbs another set of stairs.  

Going three steps at once is not something manageable for much longer; however, slowing down is not an option either until being certain of the distance put between her and the pursuers... 

I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. The voices in her mind alternating between her own and Troy’s, that one cheerful tone he used when she was sparring with anyone other than him. You can do this, Malia. You’ve got this!  

Reaching the next flight of stairs, she slows down, pacing her run, and her trained ears capture the faint growls and dragging of feet echoing bellow. There is no need to turn around to know she’s gained on them. At least for now.   

Tenth floor. 

Ten.  

That’s how many days passed since they barely survived the surge. But with all the work tending the injured, the extensive damages to the lodge and deciding on a new place to settle Olympus, one could think it happened months ago... 

Using her good arm, she forces the fire exit door’s handle and pulls with all her strength in vain. 

An inhuman screech echoes.  

A fucking Scout! Just my luck! Every hibernating zombie in a mile will come here... 

She darts upward, hoping the upper floors won’t be packed with drones. 

On the wall, the numbers indicating she reached the sixteenth-floor conserve a faint glow despite the dust and spiderwebs. The fire exit door is also stuck, probably blocked from the inside. With a groan, she pushes and pulls harder, but it doesn’t budge.  

“Better try my luck with the next one,” she murmurs, “Seventeen might be my lucky number.” 

It wasn’t.  

But it doesn’t matter. When your goal is not becoming drone’s snack, you’ll find the strength to keep going.  

This building has at least forty floors... I’ll try the next one and the next one until I find one door unlocked or no more doors to bang on... 

Hope fuels her entire body.  

Twenty-two was her lucky number. 

Pulling at the large bar, she easily props open the fire door. A long and dark hallway stretches before her, the faintest light filtering through the furthest door on the left. 

From the stairs, the hisses are getting louder.  

As quiet as possible, she closes the door and turns on the flashlight, searching for anything to barricade it. Drones shouldn’t be able to grasp on door handles, but they shouldn’t talk or have a conscience either, but Malia knows how untrue those statements can be... 

A fire hose on the wall fits the purpose. Forcing the metal door open, she reels it out as best as she can with one hand, then rolls it around the bar to keep the door shut.  

She barely finished securing the door closed when the horde tested its resistance. Scratches, bangs and ungodly hisses echo. Startled, she takes a step back and the gun out of the shoulder holster. In the darkness, her attention split between the door in front of her and the long corridor behind, from where a drone could be lurking. 

Not daring make a sound, she stands completely still and holds her breath until most of the horde seems to continue the chase up the stairs. Only a few growls persist, but no signs they would manage to break in. 

Letting out an exhausted breath, every muscle on her body seems to give up at once. Her lungs ache. Her vision blurs. She bends over with pain in her side and leans against the closest wall. Her palm is tainted crimson with the blood soaking the t-shirt. 

“Fuck” she hisses and her body slides down. The muscles of her legs melting underneath her weight like frost when the sun comes up. 

The silence that settles is a good sign. If the commotion didn’t attract any zombie, then it’s almost safe to say she’s entered a zombie-free floor. 

Putting her backpack down, Malia takes a sip at the water from the flask and inhales deeply. Another sip at the liquid is not enough to wash the lingering taste of dust in her mouth, but she must save for later. 

Later. 

Eli’s words on the back of her mind reminding now’s the time to prepare for later. “Keep walking. Let your body decelerate. Sitting down is bad. Life is motion.” 

The pain urges her to ignore all the advice.  

There’s no strength left. Blood is pouring from the wound, soaking her t-shirt that has been shredded on the side by the drone’s tallons. Her left arm refuses to be ignored any longer. An acute pain irradiates through the entire limb. Her hand run over the thick fabric of the jacket, touching the bump caused by the bone sticking out... A fracture. 

“Just my luck,” she mutters. 

It’s unsafe to risk making any noise without securing the perimeter first. The fact there’s not a drone in her face, is no excuse to sit back and relax. But on the other hand, she cannot go on without tending to her injuries. 

Rubbing her hand against her face, wiping the sweat, she needs to rest. One more minute. Two more deep breaths. Her back rests against the wall while she inhales and exhales, her breathing becomes steadier and her pulse less erratic.  

From previous experience, if all the noise and the scent of her blood didn’t bring any drone here, she must be safe. For now. 

Her training comes back to mind, and her brain lists everything she needs: a less exposed place; a first aid kit, since the one Shannon insisted on sending with the party remained in the van; and then she’ll find an alternative exit.  

“I can do this,” she mutters like a mantra. “It’ll be fine.” 

When she’s back on her feet the flashlight trembles on her left hand, her fingers barely bending to hold it. Ignoring the pain, Malia tucks it under her arm and holds the revolver with her right hand.  

While she walks, the faint glow fights the darkness, the beam lingering on every closed door while her hearing trained to listen any minor noise. The first door is locked, and she leaves it be. The next one is some kind of storage room, with brooms and several containers with colourful liquids. A quick skim to make sure there’s something useful on the cramped shelves. If Angel were here, she’d probably fabricate an explosive with two of those bottles and a rag. Just in case, she picks up a small one with a highly flammable warning before closing the door and moving on to the next one.  

Pushing it open, she finds herself standing in a bathroom with several urinals, broken mirrors and signs of death everywhere, if the maroon splotches on the white floor tiles and the impression of a hand on the door are not part of the decoration. 

Ignoring the eerie sight and the pain, she takes one careful step after the other. The gun and backpack are placed over the counter next to the sink. She lets the jacket slide off her shoulder and down her arm, exposing the injuries in the mirror. Right beneath the ribs, there’s a gash in the t-shirt and a long cut wider than her index finger. It definitely doesn't need stitches, something undoable by herself. Fortunately, it’s also superficial and no ribs were broken by the collision. Taking a spare t-shirt from the backpack, she tears a piece of the cloth and press it to the wound and keeps the pressure on to stop the bleeding, all the while her gaze doesn’t avert from the bump on her arm. 

She takes a deep breath, preparing to examine it.  

Assisting Shannon while treating the injured taught her a thing or two, and she’s grateful for that. The fracture was right above the elbow and the bone didn’t pierce through the skin, which is a good thing, considering the risk of infection. It’s not the first time she breaks a bone, nor the second. She’s broken fingers and toes and a rib during trainings. But at the Tower you never had to deal with it alone, and if you were lucky enough, you’d even get a pill to ease the pain or some ice... 

When she tries to push the bone back in place, an unbearable pain stops her from doing so. Gritting her teeth, she tries again. Her jaw tightened so much while she tried not to scream, she fears the teeth would just crumble to dust. Her eyes well with unshed tears when the bone seems to click in place. A string of curses is muttered under her breath while struggling to put the jacket back on. The rest of the spare t-shirt is converted into an improvised arm sling until she can treat it properly.  

Collecting her stuff, she returns to the corridor that remains completely silent. 

Ahead of her, the corridor takes a sharp turn to the left. Peeking from the corner, she observes how it widens near two elevators’ metallic doors, and she can almost picture it bustling with people in the old days.  

Two wide lift doors are sided by what once might have been ostentatious vases with palm trees like she’s seen in magazines. One is lying sideways, dark potting soil spread over the floor. Indications of a small fire and singed objects close to one of the many doors on the other side, painted the wall black all the way up to the ceiling.  

This corridor is also pitch black, except from a faint light emerging through one of the furthest doors.  

Her gaze fixes on that promising natural light.  

She crosses the remaining metres and walks into an ample and illuminated space. 

Judging by the disposition of the remnants of countless desks and what she assumes once were cubicles, she’s stepped into some kind of office. A much bigger version of the one at the Tower’s fourth floor. 

Walking carefully around piles of debris and tossed carcasses of metallic furniture, she finds no sign of drones. The floor is littered with paper and ragged pieces of what she can only assume once upon a time were someone’s clothes. One of the floor-to-ceiling windows is cracked in a spiderweb pattern and another was shattered, allowing the warm desert wind to blow inside. Next to them a chair lies tilted upside down. Tiny pieces of glass are scattered on the floor, glowing with the sunbeams. 

She cannot even imagine the chaos that might have followed an attack in such confined spaces. A shiver runs down her spine. Suddenly the rules imposed at the Tower to prevent infected to get in make too much sense. 

The flutter of wings startles her. She’s not expecting birds in a fucking building. Some of them fly across the room and out into the open space. She ducks in time to not get hit by one of them. There are feathers scattered on the ground and over the desks, droppings taint every surface and what she assumes are nests are hidden on the plaster above her head and into tubular lightings. She ignores them and moves forward.  

A crunching noise beneath her boots calls her attention.  

Lying at her feet, a frame with a broken glass. Despite the spiderweb-like shape of the crack, it was possible to see the picture. A smiling woman sitting on a porch’s stairs in the company of a child, a cat and a dog. A glimpse of what life used to be. Her jaw tightens at the sight of it.  

Life in this New World lacks pictures, pets and smiles like those.  

When the world spiralled into chaos, pictures were definitely the least of anyone’s concerns. Who would even stick some big-ass photo album on a backpack, considering you even had time to pack?  

However, if you survive the End of the World, it becomes one of those sentimentalities that nag at your mind. At days when it seems her fathers’ faces have fallen into an abyss in her mind, and Brynn’s face is dangerously starting to fade, she’d give anything to have at least one picture of them. Just one. It didn’t even have to be a flattering one, just good enough to keep some part of them alive... 

Pets were never allowed at the Tower. Too noisy, people said; and over the years she almost forgot about their existence entirely. Brynn, however, remembered the old retrievers from their home. Coco and Luna. According to her, they were soft, warm and loving, and you could bury your face in their caramel fur and forget bad days at school and boys who picked on you. Malia doesn’t remember them or the sound they made, but Brynn confirmed dogs were loud – even the old ones – and so were kids. That’s probably why so many disliked them at the Tower either and you won’t see a single kid with the Raiders...  

And for the smiles, it’s not exactly people don’t smile anymore...  

Malia certainly has smiled plenty of times and even laughed! And so have others... But it seems like everyone has worry lines, even the children. The constant looking over one’s shoulder might age people beyond their years, weighing down their expression, hardening it. The horror you cannot unsee becomes engraved in the skin, steals the brightness of the eyes little by little...  

Unlike those old pictures.  

At least not in the ones they’ve usually come across, hanging at houses and proudly displayed at stores. Only once she found something remarkably similar to the looks and smiles of people in the colonies. In a pile of detritus at one of Olympus’ rooms, she found this old magazine... The inner pages were filled with pictures of refugees of some war in a place she never heard of... Displaced, threatened, starving, separated from loved ones... Experiences most of the survivors know well by now.  

Could the woman and child have survived the first hordes? And the surges that followed every seven years? Were they separated from each other, never knowing what happened to the other or were they allowed the mercy to live and die together?  

The agony of not knowing is painfully familiar. 

Almost reverently, she places the frame over a desk and keeps moving, checking for zombies... It takes only a few minutes to cover the whole floor. Thankfully she’s alone. Unfortunately, there are no other exit or external fire escape for her to climb down from this side of the building.  

That’s a big complication, considering she cannot use the one she came from. With a broken arm, using the elevator’s shaft is too risky...

Standing by the floor to ceiling windows, she presses her forehead against the warm glass and gazes at the city bathed in the late afternoon sun. Long shadows stretch over the streets bellow. Maybe a hundred drones are hidden in those darkened alleys... Soon it will be completely dark. She takes a long deep breath and curses. 

She’s trapped – at least for the night – and alone. 

Getting separated from your companions on any mission can be bad.

Getting separated on a city you’re scouting for the first time is a nightmare.  

They haven’t mapped escape routes or ruled out hazards apart from drones. One never knows if you’ll meet other survivors and of which kind... 

Down below, one of the streets is partially blocked by abandoned vehicles. A small delivery truck hit a light pole that fell and smashed its hood and cabin. Other vehicles queued behind the truck, forming a long line with about twenty cars. Some of the doors were left wide open, reminders of the rush to escape and the chaos of those days. 

Two decades have gone by, and you can always feel it hanging in the air. The tragedy. The lives lost. The stories interrupted.  

Was there anybody left to tell their stories? Does anybody remember what happened here? All those people had names, lives, pets, jobs... All that’s left of their existence are abandoned cars and lost shoes...  

If one is gone and nobody remembers them, is it the same as never existing?  

When the last of her friends die, is it what will happen? Will they fade to nothingness? Should it even matter? 

Her mind drifts to them. Troy, Angel and Eli have no idea where she is. And she has no idea if she successfully drove the zombies away from the van... How are they faring? Did they get the supplies to the van? And more importantly: are they alive? 

Hopefully they are following the plan and will be leaving soon. 

Leaving her.  

That’s how it’s supposed to be, she reminds herself. If they’re safe, it was worth it. 

Her stomach growls. The last time she ate was this morning, before leaving Olympus. While rummaging through the content of the backpack to pick one of the apples, her fingers glide over the radio Angel put together. They tested it a few times back at the colony, and it only worked within a certain range. After 10 miles it was hard to capture the signal, and the communication was ineffective. She considers how much she ran through the park till the building.  

The object is heavy in her hands, like the decision she must make.  

If she contacts them, they could come after her, which is suicide, considering all the drones.  

If she doesn’t, they won’t know she’s fine and might be looking for her, wasting precious time and resources. Besides, the idea of them worrying unnecessarily is unpleasant. She’s been there and hated it. 

The radio cracks when she turns it on, and she calls her friends’ names in a low voice. One after the other. Like a mantra.   

“Hey? Can you hear me? Troy. Eli. Angel. If you guys can hear me, I’m fine. Don’t worry. Get back to the colony.” 

The radio crackled with the strangest of noises. Malia wanted to make something out of it, to believe there were voices, familiar voices, talking back to her. But there were none. Only static. 

The hopeful part of her brain assumes they are on their way back to Olympus, getting to safety and not staying outside after nightfall... That’s the logical thing to do – even if she’d never make that choice. 

Shoving the radio in the pocket of her cargo pants, she moves away from the window and keeps herself busy. The drones are not resting if the noises somewhere above this floor are any indication. 

If anything, life taught her the impermanence of things. There’s no safety.  

Life is motion.  

So, she moves. 

First, secure the perimeter.  

Pushing a heavy cabinet, she blocks the access to one smaller section of the office that has real walls and doors instead of the paper-like partitions that are everywhere else. A room with sturdier furniture and a two-seater sofa provides a good place to rest. Once inside, she shifts through the desks’ drawers and cabinets, finding a small hidden refrigerator.  

After the task is completed, she collected two scissors that might be useful, granola bars and chocolate fabricated in the year the world collapsed, three bottles of water and one half-full of decent whiskey, judging by the way it doesn’t burn her throat when she takes a swig at it. Troy will be thrilled about that discovery. Everything gets shoved inside her backpack. For her own enjoyment and the kids at the colony, she takes notepads and a handful of pens and pencils. 

Clearing a large wooden desk, she sits atop of it with her legs crossed. The hunting knife is placed beside her, ready to use. Looking outside, she munches on one of the apples picked at the orchard. 

Even in the distance, the lines of vehicles on the roads exiting the town are visible. Decades spent in the same position, frozen in time. Living in a zombie apocalypse has taught her to see the horror beneath the quiet.  

From time to time, there’s beauty too.  

She picks up one of the notepads and takes a pencil to sketch the skyscape and hills in the yellowed pages. This is the first time she's drawn since leaving the Tower. It doesn’t matter if it’s a rough sketch. Her pencil moves quick to capture all the lines. She can better it later.  

And she must believe there’ll be a later. 

Without the sun, the sky darkens fast, and the notepad and pencil are shoved inside the backpack. She lies on her back in the couch, and stares at the ceiling. 

Waiting and doing nothing are not amongst her skills.  

Boredom turns the radio into a temptation, and she fishes the device. 

Contacting them, she tells herself, is nothing but a selfless gesture. In doing so, she puts them at ease about her whereabouts, they can stop worrying and move on... She’s not thinking about the ache in her gut of not knowing if they’re alive. It’s not about the hope of being rescued either and going back to the home they’ve built.  

In a world like theirs, why should she be so determined to survive? When their lives are basically navigating from a life-threatening situation to the next one? Isn’t it the strangest thing? To feel such helplessness and dismay daily and yet dread the possibility of an end? it makes so little sense sometimes all this effort... wouldn’t it be easier to cease to exist?  

The answer to that question she knows too well. Hope moves her. It might sound silly if she ever says it out loud... but it’s hope. It’s hope that makes her wake up every morning, work hard and take care of herself and loved ones. They live and die for one another. They survive and they hope. They work and they hope. And she hopes and hopes. For a good day. For love. For respite. For a future. For the day her toes will touch warm sands at a beach. For the cool waves swaying around her body.

This day might’ve thrown a shitload of touble at her, but she can get over it. She always does. She’ll find a way, even if now she only wishes to break down and cry. Giving up is not an option. Brynn sacrificed herself for her, and she has followed the example more than a handful of times – including this afternoon. A month ago she promised Troy to live a good life, and she’ll do exactly that.  

The memory makes her throat tighten.   

Without thinking, her hand runs over the bump and the fractured bone... and the pain settles her. Nothing much she can do now, she must wait until morning, when there’s a better chance of leaving this building unscathed... Until then, she must act. Life is motion. 

Time moves so slowly when you’re not doing chores; she remembers the times they got lockdown at the Tower and all the idle hours to fill. She and Brynn drank whatever crap beer one could get, played charades and word games, trained, and stayed silent for hours. Disrespecting the rules, Malia and Troy would often sneak into each other’s rooms, and spend some time together. Those were the best moments... The memories and the things left unsaid almost choke her. She’s faced zombies and more danger than her mind could’ve anticipated before leaving the Tower, and yet... the idea of telling him how much she loves him, how much she’s loved him for years is terrifying. 

A bitter laugh gets trapped in her throat, and it’s hard to breath. Her hand presses against the back of her neck, it rubs the muscles, trying to alleviate the tension. 

With each passing minute, fighting the idea of using the radio becomes harder. She wants them to pick up, to listen to their voices, even if it’s the last time.  

If they do pick up, it means they are close, when they should’ve left. And she can’t bear the thought of being the reason of them dying. 

What’s left unsaid, does it even matter now? If either of them does not see another day, do words change what they feel? Is it more bearable to hold it in, to not name what it is? Would the loss feel less devastating without the words weighting on it? 

“What a fucked up world,” she mutters under her breath. 

She fidgets with the radio, letting the static fill the silence for a few minutes. Then she speaks again. This time, she’s just calling Troy over and over. The minutes elapse, and she’s just rambling to the hissing device. 

“Troy... if you’re listening... it’s me... I... I’m... fine... Don’t worry. I’ll make it back to the colony when I can,” she pauses, considering who is she lying to. Even if she makes all the way down, there’s no guarantee she’ll ever make to the colony by herself.  

Another family lost. 

She sighs, and the truth pours out of her mouth like a river, “Troy, I’m hurt and trapped... but I’m safe for now... there’s no drones here... but the lower floors are packed with... I don’t know... a hundred of them, maybe... I cannot go back... I’m at the twenty-second floor... it’s insanely high! You’d love the view! I need to thank Eli for bugging me to run every morning or I wouldn’t have made this far... I can see most of the city... I’m at Baker Street... and I’ve got water... and food... but I’m... but... I’m so fucking scared. You can’t die. I promised to take care of you... but... I hope you’re... okay... all of you... there’s so much I wanted to tell you... damn... This is stupid! There’s nobody out there!” She growled with frustration, and the radio hissed. 

“Malia! I hear you! Can – Can you hear me?” Troy’s voice echoed before she turned the radio off, and it washed the tension off her body instantly. 

“Yes!” she cries, “I can hear you!”  

“We were so worried...” There’s a clear sign of relief in his tone the radio statics couldn’t hide. “The radio was cutting off... and you didn’t hear us. Are you okay?” 

Before she could answer, Angel asked, “Where are you exactly on Baker St.?” 

Apparently, they have been listening to her, but she couldn’t hear them.  

“Tell us exactly where you are, Angel’s starting the van. Just keep talking to me, Maly!” 

They are coming for her. They are coming. They are family. They are her people. They are not lost. They are not leaving her... They are coming to a building infested with a hundred drones. They’ll die because of her. Her heart tightens. A rush of emotions blurs her vision. 

“No!” She won’t let anybody else risk their lives to save hers. “You can’t!” 

“What? Of course we can!” Troy shouts, probably fearing what she’ll say. “We’re getting you out of there now.” 

“There are too many drones! And at least one scout. There’s no way I can go back down... they fucked up my arm...” 

“You got bitten?” Eli’s voice echoes louder than Troy’s.  

“My arm is broken... I can’t use the crossbow.” 

“What about your gun? Just shoot those z-bag right between the eyes!” 

“I got five bullets left... it’s useless with that many... and the noise would just draw even more... I’m staying here tonight... And you guys must go home... Save fuel and go back. I’ll be alright. I’ve supplies. Have you seen how many abandoned cars? I got my eyes on a convertible,” she says lightly, even though her throat is tightening and her vision blurred. 

The radio cracked, and there was a long silence before Eli spoke again. “We won’t leave you.”  

“Sure, you will,” Malia tasted the salt of the tears on her lips. “Go.” 

“No.” 

Wiping the tears streaming down her cheeks, her voice started to crack, “You know the rules, Eli... Just... do what must be done... keep everyone safe. It’s up to you now.” 

“Malia,” Eli’s voice was laced with a kind of pleading Malia never heard. “What about keeping you safe?” 

“Have I thanked you for training with me? You’d be proud. Twenty-two floors, Eli. A gazillion steps. And no zombie got even close...” A low chuckle lace her words and there’s only statics on the radio. Maybe they lost the signal. 

“Hey! Why does only he get a thank you? What about all that cardio we do together?” Troy’s voice cannot hide the uneasiness.  

They are stalling, expecting her to change her mind...   

“And Troy? I found the roller rink... It’s beside a comic book store, you just go past –”  

“Don’t just ruin the surprise!” he cuts her off but his voice is higher and wavering with emotion. “You’ll take me there. We’ll come find you and then I’ll dazzle you with my incredible moves!” 

When her reply doesn’t come, Troy calls her name softly at first and then with desperation, and Eli and Angel’s voices are almost muffled by the rumble of the van’s engine. She ignores them and the pang in her stomach. 

“Angel, floor it,” Malia whispers, turning the radio off to not hear their protests.  

Willing herself to stop crying, the tears are wiped in a brusque way against the fabric of her jacket.  

They’re alive, so why’s she crying? 

Crying is not the answer. It never is. If she starts to cry alone for all the losses and pain within, the things that have never been and never will be, all that’s left unsaid, she’ll probably never stop. And those are dangerous thoughts. The kind of thought that makes her touch her pocket... 

Biting the inside of her cheek until she tastes blood, she forces herself to focus on anything else, like the fact she’s still alive and that no amount of zombie or disappointment can shut up the growl of her stomach. She’s alive. She’ll endure. She always does. Maybe this time around, she’ll have to do it alone. It’s good. She likes a challenge. 

Munching on one the rest of the apple, she contemplates the stars peppering the sky over the desert hills outside the city. That’s one of her favorite things about being outside the Tower: looking at the sky and the stars. If there’s a full moon tonight, she might just fucking cry with happiness then. 

Complete darkness has engulfed the world.  

Malia decided to keep the flashlight off to save the batteries and to not give away her location. The darkness and silence left her too long with her own thoughts. But there's nothing else to do... 

Besides the five bullets in the cylinder, there’s one inside her jacket pocket – the same one she’s keeping there since the night Brynn supposedly died at Eli’s cabin. 

If it comes to it, she’d rather die than let them have a piece of her... It’s not that she’s eager to die or anything. Especially not now when, despite the chaos  and losses, she is finally living. She’s got a taste of what life is supposed to be like beyond surviving: planning a future and basking in the sun and eating a piece of ripe fruit... and waking up and seeing Troy’s face first thing every morning...  

Her heart tightens. Troy helped her feel alive after Brynn died, he reignited her hope... and she hasn’t said she loves him... It’s a silly thought. Do words really matter? Would it make a difference if she said and died the next day, not keeping the promise to go back to him? 

The bullet is cold against her fingers.  

One for herself, if it comes to this. Dying is not the worst thing when turning into a zombie is a real threat.  

Somewhere in the building, a loud screech resounds, chilling the blood in her veins.  

She hugs herself, reminding herself if she keeps quiet, she'll be safe. Finally, she let sleep take over.  

Something heavy thumps outside.

Then a soft voice calls her name, the whisper breaks into her dreamless sleep. Her eyes flutter open. It’s still dark outside. She’s still all alone. The radio is silent. 

“Malia.” 

It's definitely her name and sounds like Troy. Maybe she’s hallucinating. 

There’s a flash of light underneath the door.  

She gets up and crosses the room to stand closer to the cabinet blocking the doors, and listens.  

“Malia. Where are you?” 

This time she hears it clearly. It’s Troy. She must be dreaming. 

“Troy?” she whispers, “Is that you?”  

The sound of footsteps halt. Her voice is enough to summon him straight to where she is standing.   

Pushing the cabinet aside, she cracks the door open, and the flashlight almost blinds her. The white light travels from her face to her feet. The flashlight hits the ground when his cold hands raise to cup her cheeks. 

“It’s you! It’s really you...” Troy’s voice is barely a whisper, and his gaze softens at the sight of her.  

“What are you doing here?” 

“Saving you, if my dramatic entrance didn’t make it abundantly clear...”  

With one arm around her waist, carefully avoiding her injured arm, he pulls her closer and buries his face in her neck, breathing out his relief. 

“Why would you risk coming for me?” she whispers against his ear. “I told you to go!” 

He raises his head to face her, a slow winning smile stretches his lips. “Baby, in case you haven’t noticed, that’s what I do! I always come back for you. I did at those zombie-infested woods, at the amusement park... I'll always come to you... You’re my best friend. My person. My family. I love you. I don’t think I ever loved anyone like I love you... How could I go on living knowing that – ” 

Once her brain processed the three words and what he’s saying, Malia doesn’t let him finish, kissing his lips with unusual gentleness. The kiss is unrushed, and the same words are whispered against his lips.  

“Say it again,” he pleads amongst soft kisses placed against the corner of her mouth. 

“I love you, Troy.”

Her hand caresses his cheek, and her thumb brushes against his lower lip, tracing his smile.

“It’s a shame now were both turning into zombie food...” 

“Where’s your optimism?” 

“I probably dropped it during my escape...” 

His mouth stretches with a grin, and he reluctantly steps away from her. 

“You certainly underestimate me. Do you think I’d come without a rescue plan?”

His eyebrows raised and even in the dim light she knows his eyes are sparkling with mischief. Kneeling, he grabbed the flashlight from the place it was lying next to their feet and went to the windows. His hands swirled, drawing the darkness with the light.  

As if on cue, the roar of an engine resounded somewhere below, followed by a honk she’d recognize even in her sleep. 

On the street, the van’s tyres screeched when swerved around the corner, allowing them a glimpse of Angel driving and screaming at the top of her lungs what she can only assume is a string of swearing at those fucking drones.  

“What’s she doing?” Malia mumbles.  

“You’ll see.” 

A swarm of zombies poured out of the building, shattering the remaining glasses of the lobby on their way out of the building to follow the noise. 

Swerving to the left, the van disappears.  

“What the hell! Have you guys lost –” 

“Wait. Almost there...” 

A few minutes pass, before loud music blasts in the distance.  

Troy points at an illuminated point in the far left. 

“The stadium.”  

Malia’s eyes identified the place right before the explosion. The glowing red lighted the darkness for an instant before being replaced by a column of thick smoke like tendrils on their way to reach the moon. 

“Fuck me!” 

“Oh! I will, but not here. We're on a tight schedule.” He chuckled, turning around to face her. “Impressed?” 

“Are you trying to impress me, Hassan?” 

Troy’s arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her to a sideways embrace. “We’re living on borrowed time, Maly... and it doesn’t matter if I have twenty seconds or twenty years... I want to spend them all with you... So, no, I’m not trying to impress you. I’m trying to take you home. It sounds nice, doesn’t it? Home.” 

“It sounds perfect.”

She kisses him one last time, and they move on with the plan.

[missameliep]

That seems such a lovely event, I'm so glad I saw this post before it ended! 😊

My Top3 books:

1. Blades of Light and Shadow (Tyril Starfury x MC; my MC is Arwen / f!Elf!MC)

2. Desire & Decorum (Prince Hamid x MC; my MC is Elizabeth)

3. Wake the Dead (Troy Hassan x MC, mine is Malia Jones)

Choices Secret Admirer: a Valentine's event

What it is:

Think secret Santa but for Valentine's Day.

Everyone who shows interest in participating will be given a match for whom they should create (or commission) a small work (drabble, art, edit, moodboard, etc)

How to participate:

Reblog this post stating your interest AND include your top 3 books/characters/pairings to help guide your match on what they should create for you. (reblogs that do not include a top 3 will not be considered entries for participation)

or, message me here or at @lovealexhunt stating your interest and include your top picks

Note: When listing your interests, please include any preferred gender/race characteristics you may have for customizable character. If you have FCs you are welcome to list them as well.

If you want to participate but would rather not create for a particular user, feel free to message me privately and if you get that person, I'll re-spin the Wheel of Names should you land on that person.

Deadline to participate: February 1

What comes next:

On, or about, February 2nd, I will message you with your match and what they listed as their top interests. [I use Wheel of Names to match users]

You create something for them based on their interests and post it for them on February 14-16.

You do NOT have to create for all 3 pairings, one is enough. The 3 is to give you a choice for what you're comfortable with!

It would also be really nice if you could include a brief positive message of encouragement and/or support with your creation for your match

Please tag this blog and #ChoicesSecretAdmirer2025 as well so I can keep track of who posted and who is missing.

If you have any questions please do not hesitate to reach out.

[missameliep]

Meet my MCs

Arwen of Riverbend (Blades of Light and Shadow)

Elizabeth Foredale (Desire & Decorum AU)

Malia Jones (Wake the Dead)

[missameliep]

Hii 🥰

So in honor of World Yoga Day. I wanted to ask do your MC‘s and or OC‘s practice any type of sports?

If yes which one and why?

Hi! Thank you so much for your ask!

That's such a good question. Most of my MCs and OCs take care of their health and exercise, but the ones who actually enjoy sports are Elizabeth Foredale (OC/Desire & Decorum AU), who swims and jogs regularly and will learn how to surf with Hamid; and Malia Jones (MC/Wake the Dead), who practices combat sports, like boxing and other martial arts, which are survival skills in the post-apocalyptic world she lives in, and when the group settles in the new colony, she'll definitely enjoy the free time taking advantage of the mountain skiing or snowboarding, and playing games like soccer or basketball.

[missameliep]

Hey love! twenty seconds or twenty years? for Malia x Troy - I miss them! But only if you feel up to it! No pressure at all! 💗

Hi, Elsa! Thank you so much for this ask! 💗 I always feel up to writing more Malia x Troy. These two live rent free in my head lol I adored the prompt and have been working on and off for months and had such a different idea when I first started... I hope you enjoy it! (Sorry it took me this long!)

[missameliep]

WIP Wednesday

Thanks for tagging me @lorirwritesfanfic ☺️ and please ignore how long it took for me to reply Your WIPs are so amazing! I can't wait to read them!

I'm sharing two WIPs of mine:

1. Untitled Wake the Dead one-shot based on a prompt sent by @jerzwriter - pairing: Malia Jones (MC) x Troy Hassan

Being chased triggered Malia’s brain in survival mode.   Adrenaline and pure will make her muscles climb another set of stairs and the next one. No amount of exercise at the colony could have prepared her for this.  Breathe, she reminds herself, breathe.  Dashing up, Malia reaches the next flight of stairs, barely catching a glimpse of the number six lying on the floor.  Six. That’s the number of arrows shot and undead put to rest for good before a blur in her peripheral vision obfuscated everything. The impact knocked the air out of her lungs and her body landed on a pile of debris. A sharp pain on her right arm didn’t stop her from kicking it back, making the decayed corpse reel back, and allowing enough space for the metal tip of the arrow to sunk deep into an eye socket and exit through the back of the drone’s head. Her brain didn’t register getting up or running. Next thing she remembers is the bang of the heavy metal door against the wall when she dashed, hisses and snarls following too close...    Heart pounding in her ears, almost muffling the sound of her own steps and those of her chasers, she climbs another set of stairs. She can’t keep going three steps at once, but slowing down in not an option either...  Faint growls and dragging of feet echo bellow. There is no need to turn around to know she’s gained on them and is out of reach of the horde. At least for now.   Tenth floor.  Ten.   That’s how many days passed since they barely survived the surge.

2. Stargaze (working title) - Wake the Dead oneshot / pre-book's events

After skipping classes and playing dares half the day, they found themselves lurking in the hallway, trying to catch glimpses of the small room the guards lounged between their shifts.  “You sure that’s the key?” Troy pointed at a large key dangling from one of the key holders at the back wall.  “Positive,” Malia whispered. “I saw De Luca taking that one.”  “Ok.” He watched the movement inside for another moment and motioned for her to retreat.  Leaning his back against the wall, Troy tipped his head up, looking at a flickering lamp while contemplating a plan. Just a few inches away, Malia did the same, mimicking his position.   Without looking at her, he instructed, “I’ll sneak in there and you stay here.”  “Of course. It’s my dare, you got to work for it.”  “Why you want this anyway?”  She chewed on her lower lips, then smiled. “Stars.”  “What?” His eyes darted to her face, and she averted her gaze, suddenly interested in her worn sneakers decorated with many colorful doodles.  “I want to see the real stars. And the observation deck in the top is… perfect for that.”  “And what’s in there for me, Jones?”

Tagging: @princess-geek @noesapphic @aallotarenunelma @jerzwriter @lilyoffandoms (feel free to ignore)

[missameliep]

Hii 🥰

Has your MC / OC or Li ever been sent to the principals office? And if yes why?

If not themselves have their kids ever been sent to the principals office? If so why?

Thank you for the ask! And the answer is yes, at least one of my MC and her LI have been sent to the principal's office (or the closest thing to it).

Malia Jones, my WtD MC has always been the kind to get into trouble either because of her big mouth (it's canon MC cannot shut her mouth and will question everyone and anything that doesn't feel right) or because staying in her classes growing up was just too boring to a teenager living after the end of the world. So, it was very frequent that she would be sent to the equivalent of a principal's office in the Tower due to her behaviour and questioning things and asking about the Old World in classes or due to skipping classes to play dares and getting into trouble with Troy.

And, Troy, who later becomes Malia's LI, also used to be sent there for the skipping classes with Malia (in the occasions they'd get caught) or lazying around. Unlike Malia, he learned quickly when and where to voice his dissatisfations and wouldn't say his every thought aloud at school no matter how tempting messing with some of their teachers was (he tried to teach Malia that, but one cannot say the lesson was learned).

[lilyoffandoms]

I have a whole rant post I’ve wanted to share for like forever but I also don’t want to make anyone feel bad about it so I’ve never published it. But I hope you all know I always try and make each MC I create for, specific to the character that was created by me (or by you). I do this so that hopefully the art is unique to our babes and not a generic MC that anyone can claim as their own.

So did you catch all the little details I put in the art this week?

Ashtyn’s tattoo are peonies that represent love, good fortune, romance, and bashfulness. All of which sum up Ashtyn’s route in RoD.

Evie Ayana tie color is her favorite color (and the other options are also some favs of her’s).

Ria & Dakota is a headcanon of the requester using her Dakota choice.

Ria Monero eyes contain a little surprise based on a hc of her creator.

Beckett and Emma’s eyes both continue their attunment and he wears a thief sweatshirt is support of her (my headcanon for them).

Saeed Mendis has scars based on some fics I’ve written (and not posted).

Malia Jones uses a crossbow based on her creator’s headcanon of her favorite weapon.

Xiomara has a tiny tattoo that is the meaning of Raleigh’s name (he hates it haha).

Beccan’s shirt colors are based on his favorite color and Grayson’s favorite color (my headcanons).

Raine Nightbloom has a star earring for Tyril, a primrose since night blooming plants symbolize new beginnings and hope. The dress is also inspired by a fashion board from her creator.

Myra Nightbloom wears a dress and jewelry inspired by an edit of her creator. The signet ring is for her LI, Aerin.

Cian Daly has Alexiere’s (my TDG MC) book titles on his shelves, pictures from his sister’s wedding (Iara is my TRR MC). The apple symbolizes the book Iara and Cian wrote together. Their parents are also pictured, along with Kate in college, his niece, and Flynn. The one pic of Flynn is the one they snapped right after getting engaged. His three diplomas are also there (one is not visible though).

Rhodes whole look is based on the creator’s headcanon for him rather than the in game sprite.

Luke x Clara’s poses are based on season one of Bridgerton.

Loucita’s pose is based on Lucy Lawless’ Lucretia since the green feather dress MC wears in ACoR is taken from Lucretia’s very same in Spartacus.

Aubrey wears both their LI initials on two separate matching necklaces.

Fiona’s outfit is inspired by his creator’s impeccable fashion sense when it comes to characters.

Gabe x Quinn wear canon outfits but Quinn’s green one is her creator’s favorite for her. Their eyes also contain the scales of justice.

@choicesmcappreciationweek 2025 Masterlist

@choicespride Valentine’s 2025 Masterlist

Day One:

Ashtyn Stark (RoD) & Drabble

Evie Ayana (HSS) for @cadybear420

Ria & Dakota for @lover-also-fighter-also

Ria Monero for @lover-also-fighter-also

Beckett x Emma for @storyofmychoices

Day Two:

Saeed Mendis (WtD) & Drabble

Malia Jones (WtD) for @missameliep

Day Three:

Xiomara (Platinum) & Drabble

Day Four:

Breccan Ward (Hero)

Raine Nightbloom (Blades) for @nifaraswife

Myra Nightbloom (Blades) for @daydreaming-dummy

Day Five:

Cian Daly (VoS)

Rhodes (VoS) for @trappedinfanfiction

Day Six:

Luke x Clara (Desire & Decorum)

Loucita (ACOR) for @rjschoicesstuff

Day Seven:

Blaine x Aubrey & Tatum x Aubrey (FA)

Fiona Lightwood (LoA) for @choicesmc

Gabe x Quinn (LoA) for @loreofyore

Gifts for Hosts:

Vasili x Nerea (CoP) @rosesnink

Channing x Kalani (Alpha) for @peonyblossom