#my brothers tell me this is not the first time our tree has fallen over i have no recollection of jt however

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

our tree fell over merry christmas ! [Breakdances]

[no-less-than-a-god]

Four sets of footsteps are befalling the lush undergrowth Darkwood has to offer. One pair leading, the other three following.

The Lamb maneuvers over a fallen log effortlessly, and turns around, holding out their hand. Narinder steps over the log just as easily, and like the Lamb, he turns around and holds out his own hand. He wears no veil.

Aym and Baal stand before the gods, empty-handed and wide-eyed with a childlike sense of wonder. They reach out—Aym to Narinder, Baal to the Lamb—and the two smaller felines are assisted over the tree trunk.

It’s been two years since Narinder was freed from his chains. It’s been two years since the crown split, and two years for the four of them to get used to their new life. It had taken a while for the former disciples to get used to their freedom, to get used to a life unbound, among the earth.

But now, the Lamb and Narinder think, they’re ready.

“I don’t get it,” Aym mutters aloud to his brother, purposefully speaking up enough for the two others to hear. “They said we’re ready, but refuse to tell us what for. Instead, they drag us out to a place we’ve never been before.”

“Maybe they meant we’re ready to be out here in the first place,” Baal speculates back, none of the apprehension his twin had in his voice.

“But we have always been able to defend ourselves,” Aym counters. “What could we have possibly not been ready for?”

“The world.” It’s Narinder who speaks, glancing back to look between the two before looking away, carrying on beside the Lamb. “You two were gifted upon me as disciples while kits, too young to remember the air you used to breathe or the ground you used to tread on. The world is vast, unpredictable, and filled with equal beauty and despair. Life and death, good and evil, freedom and choices.

“As disciples to a chained god, you remained in one place, under my command. Releasing the two of you immediately upon our freedoms would have been overwhelming, and perhaps fatal, as we still aren’t sure how much immortality the two of you possess. It was safer to have you two remain in the cult until we felt the two of you were prepared enough to live freely.”

The brothers fall silent, contemplative, Narinder’s words sinking in. Their footsteps slow slightly, and the gods slow with them in turn.

It’s Baal that’s the first to speak again, grabbing Aym’s wrist and planting his feet to the grass beneath him. His face is screwed in confusion, a troubled look in his eyes. “We’re being released? Are you leaving us?”

The Lamb and Narinder halt, and simultaneously turn. They share an unspoken look between them, and the Lamb nods.

Narinder approaches his two ex-disciples, and he ducks his head slightly for the two of them to get a better look at his face. “We will not be abandoning you, not now or until the end of time. No matter your situation or circumstance, we will always remain for the two of you to stay with if you wish. The Lamb and I have just decided it’s time for the two of you to make a choice of your own.”

“In what way?” Aym asks, tail lashing out behind him. Baal’s fur begins to bristle in response to his brother’s unease.

“We’re taking you to meet someone,” is what the Lamb replies, and they step forward. “A trusted individual, who has helped me on countless crusades. I ask that the two of you trust us to meet her without fear or hesitation: she’s important to not only me, but to all four of us.”

A beat passes, tense, before the twins relax.

“I apologize for worrying you,” the Lamb adds. “My mind is addled with my own worries and thoughts. I should have explained we were going to be introducing someone to you sooner.”

“It’s all right,” Baal replies, and Aym nods. The two of them look at each other, Aym nodding, and Baal speaks again. “We’re ready to continue.”

The trek through Darkwood resumes, and silence blooms between the four once more. Growing more familiar with the terrain, Aym and Baal begin to need less assistance over obstacles, and their paces quicken. Heretics are encountered occasionally, but are cut down before they have the chance to attack. 

However, it still takes another day of walking before they arrive at their journey’s end.

It comes with the sight of a small clearing, makeshift tables and supplies scattered around. Walking about, barely visible through the gaps between the trees, is a large, black figure moving about, dressed in red, a gray and yellow crown upon their head.

The Lamb stops before the clearing, and turns to their companions. They place a hand upon Narinder’s arm, and turn to address the twins.

“The two of you wait with Narinder,” they say. “I need to speak with her beforehand, privately.”

The three felines nod, and Narinder stands before the brothers as the Lamb continues on into the clearing. Their voice is heard calling something out before they’re too far away to properly hear.

“Who is this stranger we’re meeting?” Aym asks Narinder, after some time.

“Someone important,” is Narinder’s vague reply, parroting the Lamb’s earlier words. Aym levels his gaze with a pointed look, and he huffs, tail twitching in agitation.

“Do you even know her?” he asks, and Narinder eyes Aym thoughtfully before he finally chooses to reply.

“I do.”

“Then who is she?”

“A traveler.”

“Is she the merchant?” Baal suddenly asks. “The one the Lamb has mentioned giving them things?”

Narinder hesitates, before giving in. “She is.”

“Then why didn’t you just say that?” Aym gripes, crossing his arms. “So much suspense and it’s just a traveling merchant.”

Narinder hides his wince and holds his tongue, much to the annoyance of Aym, and the curiosity of Baal.

“Narinder.” The sudden appearance of the Lamb saves him from further conversation, and the Lamb beckons, a slight smile on their face. 

It’s only Narinder who notices the slight tremble in their fingers, however.

Walking ahead, the taller gods blindly lead the twins to the edge of the clearing, and the four of them hear a gentle gasp from the middle of the area.

“My god,” a soft, melodic voice greets, and the Lamb looks behind them to watch as Aym and Baal’s eyebrows furrow, their ears twitching, tails flicking. They give each other a confused glance, a shared struggle happening between them both. “O, the length of time between now and the last of mine eyes has laid upon my lord. The Lamb had spoken of your freedom and halved crown, but I shan’t believed until now.”

“Forneus,” Narinder greets in return, bowing his head slightly. “I thank you, first and foremost, for all you have given the Lamb and myself over the centuries.”

“O, shall I remain most rewarded by my lord’s thanks,” Forneus replies, and she lets out a gentle laugh.

The Lamb, with eyes on the twins, watches as they both freeze, eyes grown wide as long-lost recognition overtakes them.

‘Mama,’ Baal mouths to his brother, and the Lamb finally looks away, their shoulders relaxing.

“Forneus, my dear companion,” the Lamb begins. “I remember the day you told unto me of what you’ve lost, and how you had heart and hope of their safety. I know your heart aches to see your sons again. Forneus, I wish for your heart to hurt no more. May you reunite with your sons, Aym and Baal.”

Simultaneously, the Lamb and Narinder step to the side, unshielding the brothers from view. Forneus gasps at the sight of her sons, a large hand flying to cover her mouth, tears viciously welling in her eyes. Overtaken by emotions, Aym and Baal both sob out. They take a step, two, before they start running towards their long-lost mother.

Large and towering over both the Lamb and Narinder, Forneus drops to her knees and lets her children barrel right into her, holding them tight against her chest. They grip her flannel in their claws in return, faces buried in fabric as they cry into her, eons of forgotten memories and heartache suddenly rushed forth with the reunion of the mother they forgot they had.

“Blessed Lamb!” Forneus cries aloud. “Blessed unshackled god! A heart remembers. A mother shan't forget. O, generous fortune! Should I be dreaming, never allow me to wake! Ah, gods! Praised Lamb! Blessed The One Who Waits! My sons returned, soul whole.

"Often I would hope, and scorned myself foolish, that upon of mine eyes, my kits would return. When they did not, I would dream of their smiling faces held close by kindly paws! O with all my humble heart did I yearn for such! And here, now... ah! The wounds of a heart once carved may yet be healed!

"Blessed Lamb, the heart remains an infinite vessel. And yet mine overflows. What language speaks love? What of gratitude? Whichever it is, mine is due to you!"

“You owe us nothing, dear friend,” the Lamb gently replies over the cries of a family reunited.

“I insist thee,” the crying mother assures, and takes a hand off Aym for a moment to point at a nearby crate before wrapping him back up safely in her arm. Approaching, the Lamb removes the lid of the crate, and retrieves two strange objects that they hold in each hand as they walk back to Narinder.

“Relics,” they whisper to him, showing them off. “Crafted from Forneus and her late husband. They’re tears.”

The Lamb presses them into Narinder’s hand. He takes them, and pockets them into his robes.

“Can we stay here?” a sniffling voice draws the gods’ attention, and they see Aym turned towards them from Forneus’ side, wiping the stream of tears from his eyes. “Can we stay with our mom?”

“Of course,” Narinder speaks for the two of them. “You two are free to choose where each of you wish to go or remain.”

“The cult will always be open for you both, but that doesn’t mean you have to stay,” the Lamb adds. “If you wish to remain by your mother’s side, then that will be a decision both of us will stand by and support.”

“I want to stay,” Baal cries.

“Forneus?” Narinder asks. “What about you?”

Laughing through her tears, the mother replies, “O, you must know my answer: I shall keep my sons for as long as they wish to remain with me, and will let them go when they’re ready to take flight into the world.”

Two purrs erupt, and a third quickly joins as mother and sons continue their long embrace, their tears and sobs slowly subsiding.

And when the sun sets once more upon Darkwood, and farewells are given, there are only two sets of footsteps befalling upon the lush underbrush as the Lamb and Narinder return to the cult, where their followers peacefully await for their leaders.

hiiii sorry for not posting for a bit, I had midterms lol. Anyways, I drop Forneus, Baal, and Aym content into y'all laps bc I love all three of them sooo much. I also almost cried like twice while writing this alskhdg

[gretavanmoon]

an omnipresent force • ch 4

Chapter 4 - DARK ALLIANCE

Jake x female reader

Words: 13K

A/N: Semi-AU// Set six years in the future, the world has decided to cast humankind aside, starting with the poisonous entities that are destroying her the most.

*Thank you to everyone who has shown support for this story that goes a little bit against the grain. I so truly appreciate your little messages of reaction and interest, it's truly what makes me want to keep telling the tale. xoxoxo

Warnings: Dystopian Horror, Cursing, Crying, Suspense, Feelings of Fear and Uncertainty, An Apocalyptic World, Violence (& mention of firearms), Kidnapping, Blood, Death & Dying, Lying, Attacks, Deceit, Panic, Mental Anguish. Smut: Kissing, Heavy Pining, Light Touching

JAKE

“Jake they’re right behind us…” I hear Y/N whisper from over my shoulder as we traipse through the thick field of grasses. A quick glance behind me shows that she’s right- three of the hooded guards are rushing behind us, their bodies floating a bit more quickly than us on our two legs. 

“Fuck,” I gasp, trying my best to pick up the pace and catch up with Sam and Danny who are just a bit ahead of us trying to pull away at fallen branches and thick foliage. I pull her along behind me, just as she had pulled me through the building that’s now lying as a pile of rubble in the distance. 

My mind is rushing with what to do, where to go as I feel them closing in on us in the dusk of the evening. Do we keep running? Do we hide? Do we turn around and fight? Every single survival movie I’d ever seen comes rushing back to my memory, but I’m left without a shred of an idea from the pure exhaustion that I feel in my bones, lulling my mind into a blur of confusion and panic again. I’m smarter than this, I’m better than this… think, Jake…

And then, as if our minds are still tied together with an invisible rope, Sam points to a tree with low branches a bit in the distance, and immediately I know that climbing it will give us an advantage. I nod to him as we duck under a thick thistle, thorns catching my ugly gray sweatshirt as I feel the sweat beginning to pool on my face. 

“Can you climb?” I whisper as quietly as I can to Y/N, watching as Sam uses Danny’s shoulders as leverage to climb and sturdy himself atop the lowest branch. 

“Yes,” she says with confidence, watching as Sam gets his balance and jumps on the branch a few times to test its integrity. Thankfully, the cover of trees has concealed us for just enough time to climb ten or twelve feet high into the tree, all of us running on enough adrenaline to not be afraid of falling. I reach out my hand and help Y/N out onto the highest branch we can reach, and make sure my brothers are safely hidden, as well. I get my balance and hunker down, trying to calm my breathing so as not to give away our location. The air is still blowing cold, and I wonder if these beings have any power to find our hiding place with anything other than sight, but I can’t think of that right now. I’ve got to stay tactful.

As the four of us perch on our respective branches, we watch as the four beings cross below us, their hoods and cloaks still covering their bodies as the thorn bushes are no match for the material they’re made from. I hold my breath as we try to stay as still as statues. I hear them begin to communicate, using a language I’ve never heard before with sounds that don’t sound anything like a human being’s. I’m terrified as I watch them below us, scrambling around as they realize they’ve lost our trail. 

I cover my mouth with my hand as I try and calm myself, my heart beating from my chest as I realize these beings are mirror images of the ones that adorn the cover of our first album. 

They’re real, and they’re right fucking in front of us, trying to do anything but share their wisdom around a stupid campfire. 

Their noises are like the screams of ten people, each one emitting a screech while simultaneously the lowest, deepest bellow. I feel the branches barely shake as we all shudder with fear, and I glance to my brothers, seeing that they’re shaken with just as much terror as I am. 

I feel the branch shake more as the leaves rustle, and my head darts sideways as I realize Danny has lost his balance, holding on for dear life as the thin branch he is standing on has begun to break. “Daniel!” I squeal as I reach out for him, my hand only barely gripping onto his sweatshirt as the branch finally gives way and his fingers slip from their desperate grasp. All the breath leaves my lungs as I watch him tumble through the leaf-covered branches, Sam even falling a few feet just from the knee-jerk reaction of trying to catch him as he falls. 

All three of the beings look up to us, and I know our cover is blown. They rush to gather right where Danny is falling to, his hands and arms reaching out at every turn to try and stop his own fall, but his body weight is no match. He falls with a light thud onto the thick grass, and I watch as the hooded figures swarm him on the ground, their coverings a quick blur as the wind blows them. 

“Daniel!!” Sam wretches as he begins lowering himself quickly, branch by branch. I feel the draw to do the same, I can’t stand by and let them be taken. I feel a fire beginning to burn within myself, much the same as I would guess Y/N felt as she watched these same motherfuckers attack me in the hall just an hour ago. Don’t ask me how I knew it, but I could tell that she was preparing herself to jump just the same as I was. 

“Stay here,” I say to her with a harsh look of ordinance before I begin lowering myself down the damp bark of the tree branches, completely unknowing of what was happening below me. All I know is that I’m not getting separated from them again. I’m not losing them again. 

“No!” she cries. “I’m going with you! I’m not staying here and watching you get–” 

She can’t even finish her sentence as I watch her eyes well with terrified tears, still red and blotched from her cry earlier. I stand on a branch a few feet below her, turning to face her again. “If you stay here, you might be able to come and help us, or you might be able to find your Paps… they might not even know you’re up here. Just stay, please.” She doesn’t realize that I can’t even bear the thought of those things getting ahold of her. Fuck, I don’t even know this woman, and I already don’t want anything happening to her. 

“Jake!!” I hear a curdled scream from Danny on the ground below me, and I jump right back into lowering myself back down the slippery branches. My arms and legs carry me down fast, just like they’d do when I was a kid and we were late getting home for curfew. The first thing I hear is the brash and mind-bending sounds that are coming from those creatures, all surrounding Sam and Danny on the ground. I nearly vomit with fear, and the need to protect my little brothers. I feel my fists ball up, my fingernails crushing into my own skin as my body lurches forward, digging the toes of my boots into the tall grass and dirt to get to them.  

My hands make contact, my head in a rush of overwhelming adrenaline as I feel the fabric of the coat of the one I’d decided to tackle. Just touching it with the palms of my hands burns, but not in a way that makes me jump back in pain. It’s almost like it’s emanating a buzzed glow of energy, lightly zapping at my hands as I push it off of Daniel. I thrash my entire body weight onto it, pushing it over into the grass and expecting to finally be face to face with it, but all I see under the hood is darkness. It’s faceless. 

I expect it to become violent with me, retaliating against my show of authority, but it doesn’t. It lies on the ground as it’s body thrashes and shakes below me, eventually teetering out into a somewhat peaceful relaxed position. And the sound it’s making suddenly isn’t haunting, anymore. Suddenly it sounds familiar, speaking words I recognize in a comforting timbre as I’m struck with surprise. My hands gripped hard on it’s chest, it speaks to me,

“Who… is the wiser… to help us steer?” it asks gently, it’s face still invisible to me.

“What?!” I cry, the familiar words hitting me in the chest. 

“You… you are the wiser…” it answers itself. 

I bite my lips, remembering all the information I’d been given as of late. They want Josh, they want us for the knowledge that they assume we possess. They think we are the wiser, able to use us for the preservation of their own world.  

It’s then that I know for a fact that these beings must most definitely be those who live with one foot in our realm, and one foot in the other. 

“I don’t know shit! And neither do my brothers!” I yell in its face, pinning my hands down harder into its burning chest. “Let us go!”

“You are the wiser…” it repeats, it’s voice sounding like an angelic plea. “You will steer our land of infinite wonders… that lies a billion lightyears from here…”

What in the everliving fuck is this thing talking about? Just then, the burning sensation on my hands becomes more intense, and I can suddenly hear my brothers struggling alongside me with the others. My hands can hardly stand the buzzing heat, but I try my best not to let up on it, keeping it pinned beneath me. My teeth grit as I fight against the raging fire I’m holding on to, to the point where I feel my hands begin to blister. 

“Ah, the wounded warrior…” it says with a sly laugh, as if it’s taunting my pain. “Your world is riddled with scars, come, come with us…” I want nothing more than to strangle the thing with my bare hands, but I can’t seem to move them. 

A strange softness overcomes me as I listen to it, and I feel as if I broke my concentration, I could float away. My body feels lighter, and my mind is suddenly filled with clarity. It’s voice speaks to me like a siren song, luring me in to listen to it, hypnotizing me…

“Get the hell away from him!” Y/N’s voice breaks me from my trance, and my body is knocked sideways and off of the being. I land in the grass, the wetness dripping off of the blades and onto my face, waking me up and bringing me back to reality. I sit up in surprise, finding Y/N straddling the same being that I just was, except it’s bony hands and fingers are now wrapped around her throat. It slaps her, grips her wrists, wraps its hands in her hair with force as it tries to undo itself from her reign. 

And I’m filled with protective rage, all over again. 

“Y/N, NO!!” I slip as I stand, darkness now falling around us. I reach underneath her arms, lifting her off of it and thrusting her back onto the ground. “Its gonna hurt you!!” But just as I get my words out, I watch from my peripheral as something is shot directly through the chest of the being that we were just fighting. It screams its terrifyingly haunting sound, causing the other two to repeat after it. Its chest caves, leaving it quickly lifeless as its limbs fall weakly to the ground. 

Danny and Sam take the opportunity to rise up from their own physical altercations, and just as quickly as the first had happened, two more long objects fly straight through the chests of the other two, making them land with harsh thuds on the wet ground. 

I hear Sam yelp from fear, falling as he crab-crawls backward to us. The four of us sit stunned, looking onto the beings in complete terror as we see them lifeless and unmoving on the ground, the thin sticks emerging straight from their chest cavities. 

“What the fuck, what the fuck? Did something just–” Sam pants, his voice wrought with fear as he grips at his own chest and throat. 

I can’t breathe, I can hardly even speak as I slowly inch closer to them, trying my best to get a closer look. “Jake, no! Back up!” Danny says through heavy breaths. “They could still be–” 

“It’s arrows,” Y/N says quietly from behind us, confirming my suspicion. “Someone shot them…”

“Who did?! What did?!” Sam panics. I begin to shake my head side to side to signal that I don’t know, when I hear what sounds like horse hooves racing on the ground behind us. My first instinct is to run to Y/N, standing in front of her to block her from whatever new impending danger is about to face us. Danny and Sam stand quickly, too, joining at my sides.

The past ten minutes have been like a fever dream, pulling and pushing me through a hundred emotions one after another, but nothing could have prepared me for what I saw that very second. My hand reaches behind me and finds Y/N’s, gripping her fingers and interlacing them with mine out of pure fear. 

In front of us, in a glittering red cloud of dust, appears a man on a white horse. Two men, dressed completely in black, are walking behind him.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Danny mutters.

“Stay away from us,” I warn him, my voice nervous and shaky, but commanding nonetheless. Y/N’s fingers squeeze into mine. 

The man is ethereal, his skin a rich tone, glittering specks of orange and red as it reflects off the last bit of setting sunlight. His lower half is dressed in white leather and gossamer, with shining gold jewelry adorning his body. His dark hair reaches all the way down to his waist, and his movements are slow and calculated, powerful and confident.

And there, rested across his back, is a wooden bow.

His eyes jerk to me, bright orange as he finally makes sense of my threat. It’s then that I realize he only has one eye. He tilts his head back and laughs, showing all of his bright white teeth. He steps off of his horse, gripping it’s reigns in his hand as he begins stepping toward us, making us retreat. 

“We said don’t come any closer,” Danny says from beside me. It’s then that I remember the two men behind the man on the horse. 

“It’s okay, Jake, he’s on our team,” one of them says as the dust around them settles, the dryness throwing me off as we’re all covered in wet mud. I recognize his voice immediately, as the First. 

“Hey, what the fuck are you doing here,” I ask, feeling a little more at ease that now the men I know only as the First and Second have found us. “What the hell is happening, who is this?”

“Do you not recognize me, Jacob?” the man laughs as he runs his hand along the mane of the horse. “Don’t any of you recognize me?” He glares at each of us intently, his one glowing eye bouncing from one to the next as he looks a little offended. 

“I… think I could take a wild guess…” Sam admits under his breath. 

The man drops the reigns and steps forward, pulling the arrows from the beings’ chests with ease as he inspects them, sliding them all back into his quiver. I take notice that there isn’t any blood covering them. “Don’t be shy, gentlemen, you did only write a song about me. A quite catchy one, at that. Lots of emotion, huh? What, does the steed and the bow not give it away?”

The four of us stand stunned as we watch him, the same thought flowing through all of our minds. 

“Are we being fucking Punk’d right now?” Danny whispers into my ear, making me huff a disbelieving laugh through my nose. 

The man glides over closer to our group, standing tall and confident as he places his hands on his hips. I watch behind him as the First and Second rest an arm against his horse. It only just now hits me that I can see their faces, reminding me that they are brothers. 

“It’s alright, I know this must seem a bit… unreal,” the man boasts, wiping his hands together. I’m struck by his grit, mixed in with the right amount of a strange flawless beauty that I’ve never come in contact with before. He most definitely doesn’t walk this earth naturally. “But don’t be afraid of me, I beg you… I’m here to help. Just as Josiah just told you, I’m on your team.”

Josiah. 

“Jake how the fuck did that guy know your name? Who is this? What the hell is going on, here?” Sam asks with a bit of annoyance in his tone. 

“Sam, Danny, listen to me, I can explain all of this…” I try and calm him, releasing Y/N’s hand from my grasp.

“Yeah, you better explain because I think we almost just got killed by these fucking things, and then again by this guy,” Sam shouts, throwing his hands into the air. “He shot them with fucking arrows, Jake! They almost hit us!”

“Whoa, whoa, my aim isn’t that bad,” the man interrupts us. “I put them to sleep for you, didn’t I?”

“I’m talking to my fucking brother, please, sir, can you just–” Sam says, disbelief and aggravation written all over his face, and Danny’s too. The scene that’s unfolding around us looks and seems absolutely absurd.

“Listen, remember just a while ago I told you that there is more to this than we think there is…? Remember I told you we are in for a lot worse than we realize, and Daniel, how I was telling you that your thoughts about our music are very much real?” I try and begin to explain, knowing that I could sit here for hours before I get all the pieces put together. 

They do nothing but nod, their eyes anxiously jumping from me to the new people behind us. 

“Apparently uh, apparently you were exactly right, Danny. That world we created, or thought we created in our heads, in our music… it exists. In another realm, right alongside ours. Josh told me, right before the night they all came and took us from the cabin, that his inspiration was drawn from nightmares that he’s had for decades. All this time, he thought he was writing music about an imaginary place that his nightmares showed him, turns out that he is somehow able to see one that truly exists.”

The two of them stand and study me, looks of near entertainment daring to push through their features. 

“You’re fucking joking, right? Like this is a joke?” Sam says through a smile. 

“That’s exactly what I thought, too, when I learned about it all,” I say, glancing back to the brothers still standing by the horse. “Our world is killing us, right? Using the technology we created to exterminate mankind… well, that realm that exists alongside us can’t survive without our world, and neither can its inhabitants. And vice versa. So, the ones who inhabit that world,” I motion to the three beings on the ground beside us, “have been sent to collect us. The ones who can’t be infected by the rash, the ones who haven’t been victim to the extermination. And more importantly, the ones who they think know exactly what is going to happen next in the Infisonicosm.”

Danny erupts with laughter, just as I thought he would. Sam, though, studies me intently as his eyes squint. 

“Nightmares,” he whispers. “All of that, that whole thing we created, was because Josh had nightmares?” 

“Most of it,” I say. “Some of it was from our minds, if you remember…” Sam nods in what I feel to be a bit of understanding. 

“So you,” Danny trudges forward, pushing himself between Sam and I, “What are you, the Archer? That dumbass character that we wrote about and I dressed up as in that video?!” he mocks. “Yeah fucking right, this is ridiculous.” I can tell Danny is in denial, which throws me off, given that he has been the one unraveling all of the ties of our music the past couple of months. 

“Might sound ridiculous, but it’s true, my guy,” the Second says, reminding me of that first night in the dark room when they told me everything. 

“And who the hell are you guys?” Danny presses. “Guards from the pods? Why should we trust you?”

“They were the ones that found me the first night we were taken, Daniel. They found me and told me everything. They were hired by the others, but they’re here to help us. They’re playing devil’s advocate,” I explain, earning two nods from the brothers. “They used to be fans of ours, actually.”

“Fans, fuck that’s convenient. And you, Archer Man, why are you helping us? If you’re from that world, why did you just kill these three things?” Danny presses. I feel Y/N at my back again, her presence instantly calming me. 

“I’m part of the resistance, always have been,” he says nonchalantly with a shrug. “I’ve already been through this once, during the First Battle, the one you guys ended up writing about. Well, me and Sparrow, of course,” he rambles. “But now my people are using humans to their advantage so we don’t take as severe of a loss as we did last time. They’re taking your people and transforming you to bring you into our world, making you forget all about your own. Wiping all your memories of this place. And I promise you, though our world has it’s perks, you’d much rather stay here, even though Mother Nature is trying to push you off…” The man is explaining this all to us as if it’s second nature to him, which, now I gather is probably true. “Oh, and I didn’t kill these things. I told you, I put them to sleep. They can’t die all the way, because they inhabit both this world, and their own. They’re only half-alive over there.”

“This is fucking ridiculous…” Sam says with a huff, running a hand over his mouth as he turns away from us all. Danny just stands dumbfounded with his hands on his hips. 

“So wait,” I hear Y/N’s quiet but stern voice speak up as she walks to the man. “You said they’re transforming our people, what do you mean? Wiping our memories?”

“Yes, that’s right,” the Archer clears his throat. “There are these… buildings where your people are being taken, elderly, from what I hear. They’re wiping their memories, taking all of their pasts away so that when they bring them permanently to the realm I am from, they won’t have a clue about the past life they lived here, on earth. Will force them to learn the ways of that land, and force their allegiance to it. Heartbreaking, really.”

“Paps,” I hear her whisper before turning to me. “That’s where they were taking him before the sink hole took…” she trails off, her mind obviously racing. I go to her again, taking her elbows in my hands.

“He might be there, Y/N, now we have more information, now we have help… we can find him…” I reassure her. “Hopefully we can get to him before–”

“This your mate, Jacob?” the Archer interrupts us. 

“Uhh, no, no… just… just a friend,” I stammer, both of our faces turning bright red. “We ehm. We were kidnapped the same night, put into the same pod.”

I watch as the Archer slowly walks to her, his eyes never leaving hers. He towers over her, and at first she looks a little scared, until he gently takes her hand in his, bringing it to his lips for a kiss. 

“Well, she is beautiful… very intelligent, I can tell. Resourceful, fearless… I can see your aura, Ms…”

“Y/N,” she replies softly, her cheeks still bright pink. 

“Y/N,” he repeats, still holding her hand. “You’ve got more inside you than you let on, don’t you…”

I stand by and watch as she pulls a few strands of hair behind her ear. “I–I don’t think so?”

“Mm,” he goes on, his thumb rubbing over the back of her hand, “I believe you’re full of a great amount of ferocity, zeal and passion. Remind me a lot of my Sparrow… you better take heed, Jacob, or another Immune might realize what’s in front of him before you do.”

My jaw nearly drops at his words, and I go to speak up but he interrupts me again. “Samuel, Daniel, are you going to spend the entire evening walking around with your hands behind your heads trying to make sense of all this? Or are you going to believe us, believe your brother, and allow us to get on with our journey?” the Archer asks as he picks up the three beings with ease, draping them across the back of his horse as they sleep.

Y/N makes short eye contact with me but shies away; I’m glad she does, I wouldn’t know what to say, anyway.

“You seriously expect us to believe all this, Jake?” Sam says. “This is all ridiculous, you have to understand that, right?” 

I give Sam one last long glance as I return my attention to the Archer. “Do you know where our other brother is? And the rest of our family?” 

“Not exactly, but if I had to guess, they’ve already taken your brother Josh into their protection. Deeper than they had taken you, simply because he was the one having the dreams,” he explains. “Now can we get going? We need to bed down before nightfall.”

Y/N

I’m. Fucking. Filthy. 

I’m tired, my legs feel like jello, and I’m starving. I feel as though I haven’t had a shower in weeks, when it was only just a couple of days ago that they let us shower in the pods. I haven’t shaved my legs or armpits in forever…my nails need trimmed so badly it hurts, and my hair probably looks worse for wear than my pimple-covered face does. Gross. Just really fucking gross. 

But I’m alive. 

I pulled Jake free from the sinkhole and away from danger. And he, in turn, pulled me away from the danger of those…things. 

The Archer had been leading us through the woods for about half an hour now, likely looking for a place to make camp or…something. The two guards that Jake knows walk alongside us with their weapons drawn, and their heads on constant lookout. Sam and Danny haven’t talked since we left, just walking along, stomping their feet and pulling at sticks and branches as they pass them by. I can tell they’re both mad. Upset, confused, pissed off… Hell, I would be too, if I were them. Knowing everything they had ever worked for had come down to this: walking through the woods with some mythical creature that they thought they had created in their minds.

My thoughts are frivolous and a little bit jumbled, and I know the other guys are having just as hard a time with this as I am, maybe even worse. I guess this is why Jake had told me to not show my tattoos, at the risk of one of the beings seeing them and knowing that I may have some kind of connection with the lore, too. He was trying to protect me. 

I start thinking back to when Jake was trying to get me to understand, without outright telling me. When he was talking about The Battle of Evermore, using it as an analogy and trying to get me to put the pieces together myself. Make sense of what Josh had been unknowingly doing all those years, and why he did it. Hell, the amount of music that’s spawned over the years from fictional times and places is enormous, are they at risk, too? Are all of these places in time connected? Could these other artists have had the same dreams that Josh did?

I can’t think like that, my brain will explode. Instead, I turn my attention over to the only other person whose mind is probably right on track with mine, finding him already meeting me at my side.

“Hey uh, about what he said earlier, about another Immune getting to you–”

“Don’t worry about it, Jake. That was… really odd of him to say,” I try and brush off the interaction, when in all reality I want to harness this overwhelming emotion that I’ve noticed every time I’m in Jake’s presence. 

He nods, his eyes heavy. “I just don’t want you to feel threatened by him, or anything. Uneasy, you know? He seems a bit–”

“Overconfident? Yeah, I agree,” I laugh, trying to stay quiet. “But no, I don’t feel that way. I can tell he’s harmless. Even though wrapping my head around who he is and why he’s here is a bit fucking…”

“Yeah, I know. This shit is making me feel crazy. But, good. Last thing we need is me having to fight a guy twice my size for offending you,” he chuckles, sending a shockwave right through me.

I laugh along with him. “Now why would you have to do that?” 

He gives me the tiniest smile I’ve ever seen from him, and one sweet little shoulder shrug. I can tell he’s feeling shy, or holding something back from me. Probably the same thing I’m holding back from him. We stay quiet for a few minutes as we trudge on, our fingers barely brushing against each other’s every few steps. His hair is tangled at his neck, but still pulled back into a messy knot. Though none of us have eaten in days, and the sun wants to burn us more than ever, his skin still looks glowy and healthy. I can’t lie- right here in this very moment, I find him more attractive than I ever have, and that’s saying something.

It’s funny, years ago as we were all heavily in our lust for every man in this band, that’s all it was. Just rockstar lust. Screaming over photos and buckling at the knees during shows. Of course we were all enamored by the people that they were, and the things that they stood for, but now, as we’re all in our thirties, a new thought process has taken over the mindset that I lived in for so many years. Now they’re all grown adults, fully self-aware and sure of the men that they are. A bit more poised, and no-bullshit with their attitudes. A little rustier in their movements, a little gruff in their appearances. I’d always heard of what generally happens to men when they hit thirty, but damned if I’ve ever seen it come to life like it has in these three. 

I just hope that Josh is doing the same somewhere safe, keeping true to himself and not in any danger.

“How do we know these people aren’t luring us there? How do we know this isn’t all a trick to get us where they want us?” Jake breaks me from my thoughts. 

“I dunno…” I whisper, taking another look at the Archer still ahead of us. “You trust those other two, right? I guess we just have to trust the fact that they might know where Josh and your family are. If he can get us that, nothing else matters.”

“And Paps,” he adds without a thought. I bite my cheeks in, stifling a punch to the gut. 

“And Paps.”

—--

The Archer didn’t take us to a camp. No, he brought us to a large, abandoned home balanced on a hillside equipped with a wraparound porch and what was once a koi pond out front. The home stood by itself, we’d passed no neighbors or other structures for about a mile. Obviously, this family had money, and just from the looks of it, you could tell they stayed alive inside this home for as long as they possibly could. 

Stone made up the foundation of the beautiful A-frame home, and a heavy oak front door adorned the front. I caught sight of three generators underneath the porch, and I wondered if they lived long enough to use all of the fuel from them. 

“We’re staying here? How do we know the people who lived here aren’t still inside?” Sam asks, the first time I’ve heard his voice in a couple of hours. 

“Because I’ve checked. Do you think I would bring you to a place that was still inhabited and let your mortal self have to deal with digging graves this evening? I would never, Samuel,” the Archer bellows as he hops from his horse, his flowing sheer robes falling as gently as snowflakes around him as he lands. I’m starting to like this guy’s witty personality. “You will bed here. Get some rest, we’ve got a long few days ahead of us.”

“Why are you doing this, why are you helping us?” Danny perks up as I watch the two guards rush up the porch stairs. “For all we know you could be pretending and have plans to trap us all in that house without food or water and let us die. For all we know this could all be a ploy and you do work for those other guys.”

I watch Jake’s eyebrows raise in an agreeing question. 

The Archer rolls his eyes as he runs a hand through his long hair, adjusting the bow that rests on his back. “Listen kid, I’ve got a long, long story. And I’ve been around long enough to know where and how to spend my time. I can’t die, do you get that? Unless something kills me in the other world, I’m stronger than ever here. I’ve spent hundreds of years fighting against those godforsaken people that rule my world. It’s tyranny, it’s control… and now that your world has decided to say fuck you human beings, my people have taken their chance at even more control than they’ve ever dreamed of. All at the expense of you.” The Archer is nose-to-nose with Danny now, pressing his pointer finger into his chest. I can feel the rage dripping off of him, and I know that Sam and Jake are ready to jump within a second’s notice. But Danny stays strong, not backing down. 

The Archer realizes that and turns away, going back to his horse’s saddle as he continues to talk. “Most of my years have been spent protecting your world against any overlapping with mine. I run interference, I control what needs to be controlled, assisting your people if I ever catch word of my rulers overstepping their boundaries. Over the years, I’ve made progress. Caught onto things and stopped them before they could happen. I’ve managed to keep it at bay.”

“Why haven’t they tried to kill you?” I ask. 

He smiles, reaching out his long arm and running his soft hand along my cheek. “They know better.” 

I feel all of my insides grow weak and I shudder at his gentle touch. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that this man rather enjoys my aura. 

“All clear up here, Odin!” I hear one of the guards interrupt our moment. 

“Thank you,” the Archer replies, as I learn he has a name. “Now, Daniel, if you’ll follow our friends up the stairs to the place we’ve prepared you, I’d love to get my horse to some water.”

—--

“Come on, baby… come on…” I watch Sam coax the generator as he primes it, hoping and praying to start it up long enough to power the lights on. He jerks on the pull-start over and over before it finally starts running, a sound that I feel like I haven’t heard in decades. His face lights up with joy, and his smile reaches from ear to ear, but his happiness is short-lived, as the generator putts out after only a few seconds. 

“Son of a bitch!” he yells. “Y/N are you sure you made sure there was connection?”

“Yes, I’m positive!” I yell back at him as I try not to laugh at his expense. He stands up with his hand on his hip, his free hand coaxing his beard that’s gotten fairly long, now. 

“Sam, what’s the big deal? It’s not going to work…” I hear Jake say from up on the back porch.

“Yes it will. There, free-standing water tank, still half-full of water. Water pipe from tank to house. Generator connected to water pipe. Non-mechanical pressure system, boom. Water in the shower,” he spats at Jake, using his hands to talk. “This isn’t technology, Jake. It’s just moving parts powered by sparks and gasoline…”

I look up to Jake and Danny above me, leaning on the banister of the porch. He’s not really wrong…

“Your attempts are futile, Samuel. I doubt there is much fuel still left in that generator,” I hear Odin from the wooded area behind the house. “Come now, this fire is much better suited to assist you in your human needs than that old machine…”

As we cut our losses and give up, we walk behind the house to the wooded area where Odin and the two guards have prepared a fairly large fire. It looks as though they’ve salvaged a few things from the home, some canned goods and two or three jugs of water. I can smell the food already being heated, and I realize then how dehydrated we probably all are. We all wearily gather around it, taking places on the damp ground as the Second, as Jake had referred to him, hands us small bowls of some kind of cooked beans. 

“What’s your name?” I ask him, getting comfortable with my back against the trunk of a tree. 

“Me? Oh, I’m Robert. Robbie, if you want. That’s my older brother Josiah,” he responds, resting his hand on his belt as I take the bowl from him. 

“See, Jake? They have names…” I tease as Jake comes and takes a spot beside me, his shoulder pressing harshly into mine. 

“I think I’m still gonna call them The First and The Second,” he huffs. “Seems more fitting, seeing as how they beat my ass a couple times back in the pods.”

“Hey now, now, we told you that was coming,” Josiah interjects with a mouthful of beans. “We had to make it look like we were doing our job. Just be glad the sinkhole came when it did, we’d probably still be whooping your ass in there,” he laughs jokingly. 

“From the bowing earth,” Danny interrupts solemnly from across the flames. “Uprises the weeds of war, caving the floor… a renaissance born.”

We all are struck into silence as Danny recites the old lyrics, his eyes boring into the fire as his hands stay wrapped around the bowl of food that he’s yet to touch. 

“The earth is bowing, the floor… it’s literally caving. It’s–it’s the sink holes…” he reiterates, making my face feel like it has turned to stone. “We wrote about… we wrote about this, too…”

“Precisely,” Odin whispers. “A bit prophetic, don’t you think?”

“Fuck…” Jake whispers beside me, obviously not yet having made that connection, either. “What the hell else are we going to learn?”

“There’s much to learn, Jacob. Much for you all to learn,” Odin says as he adjusts himself on the ground. “I know you’re all full of questions, please, now is the time to ask. And I’ll do my best to answer.”

I look around at the three of them, their faces painted with fifty different emotions as I know they have no idea where to start, so I do. 

“You keep mentioning this First Battle, what do you mean by that?” I ask. “Was it really The Battle at Garden’s Gate?”

“Excellent question, my darling,” Odin says, crossing his legs. I hear Jake huff a breath of annoyance. Hah, good.

“In short, yes. That Battle happened over 500 years ago, when our world was first threatened by another outside force, one that I don’t have time to delve into at this moment. You gentlemen really paid it justice, I will say, through your music. Joshua’s recount of his dreams was quite vivid, if I do say so.”

“We made up a lot of those lyrics while we were high as kites and three bottles of tequila in,” Sam jests, shaking his head. “How does that make sense with what you’re saying?”

“Ah, that may be true Samuel, but I’m sure your eldest brother pushed forth the guidelines for the majority of it, hm? If not filling in the gaps, writing the framework?” Odin says as the fire crackles between us. 

Sam nods, “I guess so, yeah.”

“The Battle did actually occur at the iron gates of our Garden, the largest and most wondrous sight your human eyes couldn’t even comprehend. The outside force that threatened us had found a way to infiltrate our realm, seeking nothing more than blood and quick kills. You see, the Garden itself wasn’t just a garden, it was miles and miles of rolling green hills, bursting at the seams with flora and foliage and flowers and weeds, an abundance of life that all existed in harmony. Fields of thorned white roses grew naturally, some growing ten, twenty feet high with their vines all intertwined within one another. And on the other hand, it was also partially covered in thick ice and snow, with crystallized caps and pristine glittering mountaintops that you can hardly fathom with thought. It was beautiful, vast, alive… All of the natural life growing right alongside the roaring, freezing, ice-ridden landscapes.”

“Kind of like how it’s the middle of winter here, now, and the trees are more green than I’ve ever seen them…” Sam says.

“That’s right. It was normal for us, there, but I’m afraid your world is already starting to adopt it, too. This, my friends, will be called your Fifth Season.”

I’m startled, feeling odd now that I realize that the cold winds that blew today are now replaced by a heat that is not coming from the fire. 

“The heat from above,” Odin goes on, “will come at night.”

“You’re shitting me…” Danny scoffs with a whisper, shaking his head in disbelief.

“My words are true, Daniel. If I may go on, you all told the stories of the Battle quite well, your imagery, from what I have been shown, illustrated nearly identically to what our lands were left like after the Battle. Dry, deserted, no longer did anything flourish, it’d been burned to ash.”

To wonderlands of ice and snow, in the desert heat where nothing grows…

My mind is absolutely overrun with all of the ties that are being made, with all of the old graphics that went along with this album… the green, the white, the red and the black…

“There was once a temple in the center of the Garden where very few lived, but many passed through. If my memory serves, you all included that image, as well. And, a nice statue-esque depiction of myself looking mighty handsome, I will say…back when my hair was a bit shorter.  Though it was destroyed in the Battle, along with big parts of the temple,” Odin recollects. “Many of our ancient writings and teachings are etched in the walls there, still… written in gold.”

I feel Jake’s lungs fill as he sits still beside me, and I can hardly fathom what his mind is learning right now. All of it…

“You, my friends, have to realize that the music you’ve been writing since you were mere children is all centered around the true happenings of our world. So many things intertwine, so many concepts brought to life in your music. It’s astounding, really. And, from the bottom of my heart, I am so sorry that my people are now exploiting it,” Odin says with a harsh solemnity in his voice. 

“Well we exploited you, in all actuality,” Jake says. “We didn’t know we were making a mockery of your history, we had no clue it was all real.”

Odin smiles. “I wouldn’t say it’s a mockery, Jacob. If anything, you brought an awareness that your audience didn’t even realize they were a part of.”

“Who is Sparrow?” I ask, making every head jerk to look my way. He has mentioned the name twice, now. 

“Let me take another wild guess…” Sam interjects. 

“My Sparrow,” Odin breathes, recollecting himself to speak more mannerly. “I can honestly say though my ears interpret music differently than humans do, the words and melodies that you all wrote about my sweet lady were very close to the truth.” 

I think back to those lyrics now, hearing the sweet acoustic guitar playing in the back of my head. 

“Sparrow and I met by happenstance, in the city square ten days before the first Battle. She struck me, even from across the masses of crowds… I was drawn to her. She was only passing through, but somehow, after nearly three days spent locked up together in my quarters, I convinced her to stay. A wild flower, she is. Always blowing across the breeze wherever it decided to take her. And brutal, my,” his brows furrow as he smiles at the memory of her. “More fiery and absurd and hard-headed than any person I’d ever met. Her decisions were her own, then, and no word I would mutter across our pillow could keep her at bay. She decided that she was going to fight, told me that there was nothing keeping her from taking part in the war. Felt it was her duty. Suppose I learned quickly that I cared more for her than she of me, but alas. The sword she carried never left her side during it all as she rode on horseback only at night, surprising the enemy as they slept. All night, she would fight alone, reappearing only as the sun rose to retreat back, letting the rest of us fight while the sun shone. My Sparrow of the Dawn,” he explains, his one bright orange eye flickering in the reflection of the flames as he sits in deep thought. “Now where you all acquired the title of Flower Power, I always have wondered…” 

All three of them laugh quietly. “We thought we were hippies, I guess,” Sam chuckles. “Felt fitting, at the time.”

“Is she still alive?” Josiah asks. 

“She is. She rarely crosses to this world, she prefers to stay tucked away and safe, until absolutely necessary. I go and see her from time to time. Our love has faltered over the years… grown and subsided and grown again. I’ve come to realize that there is no taming her, and she’s best suited to live her own life, though I would lie mine down before her feet even to this day, if it meant she would stay with me,” he says, swallowing a lump in his throat. 

“When did you see her last?” I ask. 

“Probably eighteen, nineteen years ago,” he answers. “It’s funny, I suppose the timeline nearly meets of when your brother must have had the dream about her, and you all wrote the song. May have been right as I was seeing her for the last time.” I’m struck with disbelief again, in complete and utter shock of how all of this is mapping out. I wish that we could go to Josh, and he could learn of all of this, I wish he would have been comfortable sharing that he had these dreams at the times he was having them. I feel no shame in setting my bowl to the side, and taking Jake’s hand in my own, as I feel an overwhelming rush of sadness come over him. I know that he is feeling more isolated than ever, without his twin.

He gently lies his head onto my shoulder as Danny and Sam look at us, giving us both pitiful looks of empathy. Their eyes fall as they realize their brother is really just fucking sad. So I gently pat his cheek and pull him further onto my shoulder, surprised and glad that he feels comfortable enough to display himself like this, with me. 

“What you gentlemen also need to realize is that the reason my people want to harness your knowledge so intently is that we were well aware there was a prophecy not long after the First Battle was fought, and nearly lost. We knew another was to come, though this one wouldn’t be fought on our soil. The hooded guards, the ones who attacked you earlier and who are now locked away in the basement, there are many of them. Uncountable. They all work for the ones who inhabit the Tower, the ones who rule us so harshly. They are all nearly omniscient, sharing their prophecies and fortunes with one another. There has been a fire burning at the Tower for nearly a millenia, it’s smoke always billowing a clean white. But right before your world decided to wipe herself clean, the smoke from the fires burned black.”

“The new age crisis,” Danny mumbled. “It signaled you that something was about to happen.”

Odin nods. “Yes. And happen, it did. And your brother saw it happening in his dreams nearly what, fifteen years ago? When you wrote that song as young boys… he prophesied it before our rulers even knew about it.” 

Jake suddenly rips his head from my shoulder and stands, pulling his hair back with his hands as he stomps around the fire. He stands still for a second, his breath chopped as he looks like he is about to burst into tears. He darts around the side of the house, his sobs already wracking through him as I share a quick look with Danny and Sam before we all stand and follow him. “We’ll be back,” I say to the others before we take off after Jake. 

“Go away, I just need a second,” Jake yells at us as we finally find him beside the old koi pond. 

“What the fuck is happening,” Sam says rhetorically as he plops down on the ground, his elbows meeting his knees as he curls up around himself. Danny walks to the edge of the old driveway, his fingers interlaced at the back of his head as he stares off into the night sky. 

Jake is leaning his hand on the post of the porch, trying to calm his own breathing with his back to the rest of us. I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to think. This all feels so surreal, so fake and dreamlike, but again, the fire that’s burning in the yard behind us and the horse that’s tied to the tree five yards away are both very, very real. 

I can smell the smoke from it, I can feel the little bit of food being digested in my stomach, I can recognize that these three men that surround me are going through one of the most unreal realizations that they’ve ever encountered in their lives. I can’t even fathom their thought processes right now. 

“How did we do that, how did Josh do that,” Danny says as he turns back around to us. “All those years, all that we thought we just made up in our heads because it sounded good…”

“It’s okay, Danny, we’re gonna get it figured out, we’re gonna find Josh,” I try and intervene. 

“No, Y/N, it’s not gonna be okay, don’t you see that?” Jake bombards me, taking my shoulders in his firm grip. “There’s nothing we can do to stop this, and Josh might already be too far gone, they probably already have him. And our families, they’re probably–” his face is riddled with confusion and hopelessness, he’s barely holding it together. “We’re fucked, we’re all fucked. The whole world is gone, and we didn’t even know that we knew it was going to happen!” He shudders with fear, and I can feel the guilt in his chest as he yells in my face. I’ve never seen him like this, and I have to admit, he’s scaring me a little. 

“Hop off, Jake, calm it,” Sam is suddenly beside us, putting his hand on Jake’s chest. “This isn’t her fault, either.”

Jake huffs a sob as he steps back, running his hands over his face as enraged and guilt-ridden tears fall from his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. 

“It’s okay,” I choke, feeling things calm for just a split second as they all try to breathe. “Listen, guys, I know you all don’t know me, and you probably think I know you more than I actually do, but. There is no way you all could have known that the Earth was going to do this. Honestly. And even if you did, how in the fuck do you think you would have been able to stop it? Huh? ‘Listen to our music… it’s telling the truth! All we’ve created is going to cease to exist!’ No, everyone would have called you completely crazy. So don’t even begin to blame yourselves, this was all going to happen regardless of if you realized your music was foretelling the future or not. All we have is what’s in front of us. We have each other, and we have Odin, and the brothers. And we have a mission. We’re going to find Josh, we’re going to find Paps, and we’re going to find your family. We’re going to keep ourselves alive, and we’re going to find the others like us and get them to a safe place. That’s all we can do. One step at a time…” 

I know my words probably carry no weight, but I’ve at least got to try. A tentative plan might give them hope.

It’s quiet as their wheels turn, and Sam and Danny give me slow nods of understanding. “You’re right, you’re right…” they both mutter as they take deep breaths and pat my back reassuringly. 

“Go get some sleep, huh?” I give them stern looks, lowering my voice to command them. I know they’re both probably exhausted beyond belief. “Go inside.”

They both stuff their hands in their pockets as they walk up the steps back to the fire, leaving Jake and I in the calmness of the night. I take a seat on the high wall of the koi pond, the grass high around my knees. It’s filled with bugs and loud wildlife, all making simultaneous noises as they take up refuge in the weeds. Jake is still standing nearby, looking out at the night sky and the new moon in the distance. 

“I’m scared, Y/N,” he says, refusing to turn and face me. I swallow down his words. 

“I am too, Jake. I think we all are.”

He finally turns and comes to join me on the wall, letting his body relax as he takes another deep breath. “You remember how dark our last album got, right? That day that Josh told me everything, all about his dreams, he said he was dreaming about that shit, too. Is this about to get that much worse?”

It’s true, their last album was the darkest, yet. Though Josh’s lyrics were sewn with allusions and metaphors and the like, the themes were heavier than anything they’d ever done. He focused on struggle, he focused on destruction, he focused on death.

“I don’t know, Jake. For all we know, that could already be happening, we could be in the middle of it right now,” I respond, and frankly, the way we are all feeling right now justly mirrors the way listening to that last album felt the first time I heard it. “We’re already surrounded by death and loss, you know?”

He nods again, his eyes never leaving the sky. But then his hand comes to find mine again, just like mine had done earlier with his while we were around the fire. The callouses that once were embedded in his fingertips are a little softer now, I can tell, and the scars that run the length of his left forearm are brighter than ever. In a bold act, I gently run my finger along them, feeling the caverns and healed skin from the stitches he had all those years ago. To my surprise, he lets me. His fingers intertwine with mine in such a way that feels more right than anything I’ve ever felt, more comforting than any contact I’d ever received. 

His free hand lifts the sleeve of my dirty gray sweatshirt, revealing all the tattoos of his music that line the length of my arm, and he runs his finger along them, too. 

“I can’t believe you followed us, all that time,” he says quietly, the touch of his fingertip sending shivers through me. 

I huff a laugh through my nose. “It was the best adventure I ever took myself on, I can promise you that. Ten years of traveling with the friends I made, going to new places, taking Paps along with me… I’m sure you guys all thought it was weird that the majority of us did that, but. It was honestly one of the best parts of my life. Made me feel like I was really connected to something that I belonged to, I could call mine. I dunno, it sounds strange saying it to you,” I laugh. 

“No,” he whispers. “Seems like you were genuine about it, not just in it for the same bullshit some of the others were. I know how it feels to connect with something really intensely, like that. And I couldn’t picture my life without my own escapes. So I get it. I’m glad we could be that for you, and your friends…” 

“You still are, really,” I admit. “That feeling doesn’t really ever go away. Once it’s ingrained in you, you know.”

“I do know,” he smiles, finally turning to look at me, his face closer to mine than it was the day he told me everything at the pods. 

“You’re a little different, aren’t you, Y/N?”

“Apparently, according to Odin,” I try to break the high-intensity of the moment, my heart thrumming so quickly I can hardly breathe. I feel his breath on my lips, I feel his fingertip moving up to my elbow, then my shoulder, then to my neck… My entire body is covered in nerve-ridden goosebumps from his proximity.

His other hand is still squeezing mine, his fingers kneading into my palm as my breathing audibly quickens. His nose grazes across mine as I try and collect enough breath to breathe him in, relishing in the moment that I never in a million years thought would happen. I feel the slightest brush of his lips on my cheek as his jaw clenches, the roughness of his mustache making my head spin with want. I haven’t been this close to anyone in so long…

“Well he’s right,” he whispers, his lips moving across my cheek and against my lips… but still yet, he doesn’t make contact. “There’s something about you… I don’t wanna stay away from.”

Then his fingers come up and cup my cheek, my jaw resting comfortably in his palm. Every inch of me is on fire, in complete disbelief that this is really happening. All of my odd, unimaginable feelings from the past couple of days, completely warranted. 

“I know you’ve got to go find your Paps, I know you can’t stick with us forever…” he says, his jaw biting into itself over and over through his words, obviously holding him back from doing what he really wants to do. 

“Says who?” I reply, my eyes fluttering open and closed. “This is a team effort, who says I want to leave you?”

“I don’t want you to leave me…” he mutters through a rough breath, biting his bottom lip in as I feel his eyelashes brush across my cheek. It’s taking literally every ounce of energy in my body not to connect us, my yearning urging me to do something.

“I’m not, I won’t,” I say, and just as soon as the last word escapes my lips, he finally connects his to mine, rough and needy and sweet, his hand still gripped in my hair and pulling me into him. I’m floating above us, the nerve endings in every centimeter of my body experiencing a euphoria I’ve been dreaming about for the past ten years… complete and utter disbelief… way more intensely than I had ever dreamed of. 

My hands find him as I disconnect our intertwined fingers, gripping at the neck of his sweatshirt and gathering it up in my fists as I kiss him back, wanting and heavy as I allow my body to taste a shred of what it’s been begging me for since the world began to end. I feel the breath from his nose against mine, holding for just a few seconds as his subconscious reminds him he needs to breathe. I lean in, and he reacts, pressing himself closer into me, our chests touching and heaving already. 

His hands are on either side of my face, squeezing me so tightly that I feel my ears ringing. But finally he pulls away for just a second long enough to utter one word, ‘Fuck,’ before he delves back in, his tongue searching deeply for mine. So I reciprocate, giving him exactly what he wants as I lick back into his mouth. I feel my core begin to throb, obviously, having gone without the touch of another human for months now, months before everything began to happen, really. My body is begging me, carnally and against my own will, to give it more. 

I turn myself in my seat, my legs straddling either side of the wall we’re sitting on as he turns too, putting his hands underneath the backs of my thighs to lift me closer to him. It’s turned into a frenzy of hands and hair and mouths, our bodies both heaving and lurching into one another. I can’t breathe, I can’t see, I can’t even hear the sounds of everything I know that surrounds us. All I feel is him. 

His hands are on my waist, his fingers digging into my skin up underneath my shirt as they pull at my skin, and I let out the tiniest whimper into his mouth, and I immediately regret it. Fuck fuck… no don’t, Y/N. But at the same time, it makes my mind clear. I’m fucking kissing him, right now. His hands are on my body… I have thought about this exact moment a thousand times… 

I shouldn’t have been embarrassed by it, because as soon as the sound leaves me, he growls into my mouth, making the entire world around me shatter. Good god, this feels worse than heaven and hell combined. We’re unbridled and fighting, his hands yanking at the hair at the base of my neck as I bite at his bottom lip, the both of us treating the other as if we’ve been this close for a hundred years.

But we haven’t, and he’s not–

I rip myself away, my hair covering my eyes as I peer at him in the darkness, my breath barely able to keep me upright and from fainting as I see just as much surprise on his face. But I also see lust so heavy that I contemplate diving right back in. His hands are still balanced on my bare hips, his fingers now ghosting rather than digging. 

“I’m sorry, I– yelled at you earlier, and then I– I shouldn’t have–”

“Fuck off, Jake,” I say, giving him a devious grin, this time throwing my own hand up to cover his mouth. “Don’t fucking apologize.” 

Instead of answering, his featherlight touch on my hips switches back to a possessive grip as they run from them up to my ribcage. I lean in and kiss him again, my forehead knocking hard into his as he bites at my tongue. I can’t even begin to explain how he tastes, maybe I’ll get into that later, but for now I’m just going to enjoy it. 

It’s only a few more seconds before I’m inching myself closer to him, my tits now pushed firmly against his chest. I know he can feel it, as he allows one of his hands to travel up from my ribs and under my sorry excuse for a sports bra, confidently taking my left breast in his hand. This spurs me on, of course, as I can feel myself absolutely pooling with desire for him. I stop myself from imagining what he has going on. 

“Goddamnit, fuck, we can’t–” he finally says as his fingers pinch at my nipple, almost making me come un-fucking-done, right there by the koi pond. “I can’t I can’t I can’t,” he says in succession. 

“Why, what?” I barely get out, my head still in a state of euphoria. 

“We can’t– I’ve gotta, stop myself, Y/N… we can’t even do that right now, fuck…” he’s rubbing a hand over his eyes and hair, trying to calm himself as we separate. “There’s, there’s too much risk, I don’t know…” 

I’m not mad, but I’m not happy, either. I pull my bra and shirt back down into place, checking behind us that one of the others haven’t caught us in the act. “Jake, I’m thirty years old, I know my body,” I willingly admit before I can even stop myself.

“Yeah but I didn’t… I didn’t even ask you if that was what you wanted, I don’t know, I acted too much on impulse, I just–” 

“Listen to me,” I demand of him as I take his face in my hands. “I haven’t been touched by a man, by another human in almost ten months, Jake. Probably more, if I’m being honest. We’re in the middle of the fucking apocalypse, the world is fucking ending, and I haven’t had a goddamned drink since my home fell into the first sink hole in Tennessee. I don’t know about you, but if a little touchin’ and squeezin’ is wrong, then I don’t wanna be right.”

His eyes silently search mine for a few seconds before I release him from my hold, watching as he tilts his head back and laughs. Laughs hard. 

“What’s so funny?” I complain as he’s wrapping his arms around my shoulders, leaning all his body weight onto me as his chest rattles with laughter. 

“I like you, I like you a lot,” he says, void of any sexual sentiment. “You’re really funny. You make me feel normal.”

“That’s cause I am normal. You’re famous, you wouldn’t understand,” I answer, and I feel him smiling against my hair again. 

“Shut up, you know what I mean,” he says as he pulls away. “Like I’m back down to earth and not part of a conspiracy that prophesied the end of the world.”

“You’re reaching, Jake,” I say, squinting one eye at him. My nerves are finally calming from the intensity of a few moments ago, and I can finally breathe. 

I watch him look at me as he bites his jaw sideways, likely feeling conflicted about what we just let ourselves do. 

“We’re human, Jake, with human needs, and human wants. Can you blame yourself? I mean, I’m hot, you’re hot…”

“Shhhut up,” he chuckles again. “You’re a really good kisser, Y/N.”

“Thank you,” I say. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Oh, really now?”

“Yeah, I think you’ll have to try again sometime, though, just so I can be sure,” I relay with faux confidence, pulling my leg back over the side of the wall. 

I finally stand, the muscles in my legs a little jittery from the position I was just in, and from them wanting to wrap themselves around Jake’s waist, or his face, whatever I could, honestly. Fuck, I know the both of us are going to be thinking about that for days… making this journey alongside him now is going to be a lot more difficult now that we’ve been that… close. 

“Come on, we need some fucking sleep,” he says, standing beside me to lead us back to the fire.

Just then, I hear a rustle in the gravel, like fast footsteps lightly barrelling their way toward us. We both gasp and turn back around as Jake shoves me in behind him. “Who is that? Who’s there?” he calls out. 

I see nothing but shadows, and what was once my pounding, excited heartbeat is now replaced with terror. No one answers, but the rustle of the footsteps keeps getting closer. Jake backs us up against the porch, and I feel his hand grip around my thigh in protection, telling me not to move. “I said who’s there!” he yells. I see a reflection of silver metal glisten in the moonlight as the steps come in closer. “Josiah!”

Just as quickly as the figure closes in on us, I hear the rushing footsteps of the rest of the group coming behind us. “Who’s there! Name yourself!” Josiah yells, stepping in front of us with Robbie at his flank. I can see their hands on their weapons. 

The footsteps close in and finally reach the grass, still covered in darkness as I watch the silver shimmer again. Jake’s hand is still wrapped hard around my thigh as he presses me into the wooden leg of the porch. Josiah and Robbie grip their weapons, removing them from their holsters as they begin to take aim. Sam and Danny are just behind us, already panicking as well. 

“Don’t come closer, we’ll fire!” Robbie yells into the darkness. 

I hear their weapons release their safeties, and I prepare myself to hear the worst, when Odin comes barrelling between us all, yelling and shouting for everyone to stand down. “Stop, stop! No!”

“Odin, move, it could be an armed looter!” Robbie yells. 

“NO!” he calls, running into the shadows of the high grass. “It’s my Sparrow…” 

I’m instantly at ease as she finally comes into the dim light of the fire around the corner, her body adorned in silver armor, her glittering yellow hair in braids that fall across her shoulders and back. And tucked away at her side, is her shining silver sword. 

“Odin!” she calls as their bodies meet, “I thought I’d never find you…”

“My love, my love, you found me. Why are you here? Are you alright?” he comforts her as they embrace, almost emanating their own dusty light in a mix of silvers and reds.

I think back to what Odin had said earlier, that Sparrow only comes to this world when absolutely necessary.

“I’m fine, I’m well, but I come with news. Let us gather, so I can see everyone’s faces,” she says, gliding past Odin and toward us so that we can be close to the light of the fire. 

The six of us let her pass through us, all of us in disbelief at her beauty. Her skin glitters just as Odin’s does, her movements graceful and quick as she blurs the air as she passes through it. I’m almost enamored at the presence of her, so intoxicatingly gripping as she makes her way to the light of the flames. We follow her in succession, everyone stunned and surprised at her sudden appearance. 

“Here now, everyone around,” she says, her voice from somewhere ancient and her accent one that is nearly unrecognizable. We all do as she says and gather around the fire again, watching as she literally shimmers in the light. 

“There we are, hello, hello,” she sings, looking each and every one of us in the eye as she introduces herself. “My name is Sparrow, I’m unaware if Odin has mentioned my name, yet.” 

“Of course I have, my love, I rarely speak to anyone without the mention of you,” Odin gloats, acting though he’d fall at her feet. “What brings you here, what brings you to us?”

Sparrow is silent as she walks around, getting eye-to-eye with all of us as she passes. “You men, you were the ones who wrote about me, who wrote of the stories of our people. It is a true pleasure…” she curtsies, making Sam and Danny hop back with surprise. 

“The uh, the pleasure is ours Ms. uh, Ms. Sparrow…” Danny chokes, his eyes darting nervously to us. 

Sam looks to Jake beside me, mouthing a quick ‘What the fuck?’

“It is true, I come with urgent news. I hope that Odin has told you that I rarely cross over into your world, if not for good reason. And a good reason, I do have.” She takes a seat on an oversized rock that lines the wooded area by the fire, and we all follow suit. She takes her sword from its holster on her side, and balances it across her knees. She runs a finger down from the end to the tip of it, letting it poke into her fingertip as she cracks her neck. 

I know that Jake is absolutely fucking loving this.

Just then, the sword itself looks as though it is glowing with cool white light, and her barren hands grip at the blade, squeezing onto it until her knuckles are white. My body tenses, expecting to see blood beginning to trickle from her hands, but instead, the sword just glows brighter. 

Her head tilts back, and her mouth falls open, as she begins speaking in a voice that is not her own. 

The voice, though, is one that is so familiar that I feel my bones begin to crumble, my blood begin to harden, and my organs turn to stone within me. 

The voice that is leaving her is Josh’s. 

“All is hallowed here, let their proclamations of faux deities and untrue alliances die along with the world that surrounds them! Upon this sacred ground they’ll surrender, within my words they’ll learn the truth of all that encompasses this divine ether. Let them not tether there, or they shall suffer with the insignificance of man, they shall perish alongside the ones the Earth has decided to exterminate. Let them live in jubilance as we celebrate here, as one, sanctifying all that is true. Faithful they shall be, and faithful they shall live! It is here, their destiny is manifested!”

Just as Sparrow speaks the final word, her hands let go of her sword and it’s dullness returns, as she collapses to the side into Odin’s waiting arms. I am stunned absolutely speechless. 

Things just got way, way worse. 

I look to Sam, then Danny, then Jake, the look on all of their faces identical as they have just listened to the voice of their brother recite a speech so terrifyingly haunting that I’m not sure if they are even still able to breathe. 

“Inside, bed. All of you,” Odin orders as Sparrow stays asleep in his arms. 

“Odin, what the fuck was that? You expect us to just–” Jake yells. 

“I said inside!!!” Odin bellows, shaking the trees with the volume of his voice. 

“That was my brother! His voice!” Jake challenges him. “Where is he?! Does she know?? Why was he saying those–”

“If you don’t get inside and get some rest this very instant, I will abandon all we have done for you, and you will continue this journey alone, without any guidance or anything to arm you. Now, do you want that, Jacob? Or do you want to do as I said and get some rest, so that you awaken with a clear and readied mind, and a rested body, for when Sparrow is strong enough to tell us what exactly she knows?” Odin presses, staying stern with Jake. 

Jake reaches down into the embers of the fire, picking up some still-burning ash and harshly throwing it back down to the fire, igniting the it into a million sparkles as he trudges back toward the house, his fists clenched at his sides. I stand there, unable to move. 

“Inside,” he orders me again, so I collect my losses against all my better instinct of leaving right this instant to go and find Josh, find our families. I rush up the stairs, and enter the dark house that is unfamiliar. I slam the door behind me and find the three of them stomping around the carpeted floors of the house, a huffing mess of confusion and doubt.

“On the couches, all three of you. Sit down, and try to rest. We won’t even make it to our families if we don’t. We need clear minds, and rest. Odin is right,” I repeat, the words tasting wrong in my mouth, but I know they are true. 

They all three follow suit and find places on the old, oversized couches, hugging at pillows and old blankets in the darkness. I feel Jake find my hand underneath the red quilt I’m now under, interlacing his fingers with mine again as we try to calm our minds enough to rest, if only for an hour.

Tags: @gretavangroupie @britney-gvf @sacredstarcatcher @wetkleenex-gvf @farfromthehomelands @takenbythemadness @writingcold @builtbybrokenbells @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @fleet-of-fiction @milkgemini @gvfpal @ageofcj@dancingcarbon @highway-tuna @stardustjake @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @gvfmarge @gracev0609 @myleftsock @literal-dead-leaf @peaceloveunitygvf @ageofbajabule @slut4lando @jordie-gvf @sadiechar @tinydancer40 @rosabellagvf @capnjaket @lyndz2names @thetroublegetssoloud71 @gretavanomens @spark-my-nature @josh-iamyour-mama @anythingforjtk @alwaysonthemend @danieljlmwagner @klarxtr @fortunatelytinybasement @demonrat444 @gretavansara @watchingover-hypegirl @hippievanfleet @digitalnomadz @raviolilegs @lipstickitty @hippievanfleet @klarxtr @strange-whorizons @do-it-jakey-baby @myownparadise96 @gvf-luna @starshine-wagner @cassiesgreta @joopsandjangs @whimsiliz @kiszkas-canvas @whimsiliz @joopsandjangs @broken0mens @scoreofinfantryvines @whereiskeara @do-it-jakey-baby @miravanfleet @heckingfrick@kiszka-canvas @whimsiliz @joopsandjangs @broken0mens @scoreofinfantryvines @whereiskeara @do-it-jakey-baby @miravanfleet @heckingfrick @jenniferkiszka@jjwasneverhere @gvfmarge @pineapple-photographer @vanfleeter@gretnavannfleet @pineapple-photographer @joshylanefleet @becinabubblegvf @ageofmach1ne

[vodika-vibes]

Welcome Home

Banner by idontgetanysleep

Summary: A normal Welcome Home dinner with Kix blossoms into something more.

Pairing: Clone Medic Kix x F!Reader

Word Count: 2737

Warnings: Smut, Oral (F receiving), some angst in regards to two people who can't see the forest for the trees.

A/N: This was supposed to be fluff, but apparently, Kix had different ideas. This is fine. This is my first time writing proper smut in, like, years. So it might not be the greatest.

Divider by Saradika

You have three simple rules that you follow when it comes to dealing with Kix. Three rules that are painfully easy to remember.

Rule 1: Do not ask him about his most recent deployment. If you ask he’ll tell you the truth, and he always looks so broken and defeated when he does. If he wants to talk, he will, but pushing never helps.

Rule 2: No family talk. His family is massive, but you always run the risk of dredging old wounds regarding his fallen brothers. Also, your family kind of sucks, so family talk is better left for other times.

Rule 3: Do not, under any circumstance, draw attention to, or even think about, how you feel about Kix. If you don’t acknowledge it, then it’s not really there, and you don’t run the risk of a broken heart.

The first two rules are easy. You don’t like talking about your strained relationship with your parents and siblings. And you really don’t like the look that Kix gets when he thinks about his job.

The last one is…well, you’re not so good with the last one.

But it’s not really your fault. He’s just…he’s so kind and caring, and when he smiles at you in that way your heart skips a beat, and you have to remind yourself that this is just how Kix is, and that he’s not making your head dizzy and your heart ache on purpose.

Admittedly, it would be easier to not fall in love with him if he spent less time around you. But the very idea of him spending time with another person makes your heart clench so painfully-

Okay. So the hard truth is that you’re in love with Kix. Have been for what seems like ages, but he doesn’t seem interested and that’s okay. Your emotions, and feelings, are your problem. Not his. You just want him to be happy, even if that means relegating yourself to best friend, rather than more.

You drag yourself out of your thoughts when you hear the door chime. You check the time, and then glance in the oven to check the roast that has been slowly cooking all day, and then you head to the door, and press the button that slides the door open.

Kix flashes a small grin at you, “Hey, sarad,” 

You favor him with a small smile, “You’re early.” You move to the side to let him in the apartment.

“Yeah, I decided that I was done for today,” Kix replies as he presses the bottle he brought with him into your arms, “I bring booze.”

“I have booze,” You say dryly, as you accept the bottle.

“You have wine,” Kix corrects, “Which this is not.”

You pause and then eye the bottle suspiciously, “this isn’t the Moonshine that Hardcase and Fives brewed on the Resolute, is it?”

Kix laughs, “I’m pretty sure that would put you in the hospital,” He jokes lightly, “No, I bought it on my way here.”

“How much was it, I’ll pay you back-”

“That’s not necessary. We’re getting paid now, haven’t you heard?”

You shake your head and press the door control again, allowing the door to slide shut and lock, and then you head back into the kitchen, “Well, thank you for buying it. Unfortunately, dinner still has a couple of hours before it’s done. I wasn’t expecting you for a bit.”

“That's fine with me. We can start our movie night early.” Kix says as he steps into the living room and immediately goes right over to your TV. “What do you want to start with?”

“Oh, anything’s fine.” You reply from the kitchen as you read the back of the bottle, and then slide it in your fridge, before you join him in the living room. You sit on the couch and curl your legs under yourself as you watch Kix scroll through the movie options.

You’re surprised when he chooses one that you’ve both seen before. “I thought you didn’t like this movie?” You ask as the music starts. If you remember correctly this movie was a romcom that Kix hated so much that he vowed to never watch it again.

“Oh, I don’t.” Kix sits on the couch and turns so he’s leaning against the arm of the couch and facing you, and he sprawls his legs across the couch, and you mimic him, twisting so you’re facing him as well. “I figured that since we’ve already seen this movie, it means we can talk.”

You unfold your legs and stretch them out so they’re laying against his, “Oh? Did you want to hear the latest gossip from Coruscant?”

“Hardly. I wanted to talk about you.”

“Me?” You’re surprised, to say the least, “There’s nothing new about me. I live a very boring life, Kix.”

He hums thoughtfully, “How’s work going? You were having problems with one of your coworkers-”

“Much better,” You admit with a small smile, “He was fired after he had a temper-tantrum during a meeting. And,” You motion to the desk in the corner, “We’re now officially working from home. He sold the offices.”

“Nice. You must be thrilled.”

“I am. No more annoying small talk with small minded people. Though that means I spend a lot of time on my own.” You shrug and smile at him warmly, “But before you get worried, I do get out of the house at least three times a week.”

“I wasn’t worried.”

“Were too,”

“Okay, maybe a little.” Kix finally admits with a laugh, “But I know that you know how to take care of yourself.”

“It’s sweet of you to worry.” You say lightly, “But really, you don’t have to worry about me.”

“You’re a friend, so I worry.” Kix replies easily. He’s quiet for a moment, and then casually, almost too casually, he asks, “So, how’s what’s his name?”

“I…who?” You tilt your head in confusion.

“The guy you were talking to,” He clarifies, his voice slightly tight, “You went on a date with him-”

“Oh, him.” You shrug, “Yeah, it…it didn’t work out.”

Something drains out of Kix’s shoulders, and if you hadn’t been looking at him, you wouldn’t have noticed, “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” He doesn’t sound sorry.

You hum thoughtfully, “Yeah. Well, I’m considering giving up on dating for a bit. The last few guys who’ve asked me out on dates have all been assholes.”

“Well, maybe you should ask someone out rather than waiting for someone to ask you out,” Kix offers.

You make a face, “I suppose there is a guy I’m interested in.”

“That’s…great.” You glance at him and he has a strange look on his face, “You should ask him out.”

You shake your head, “He wouldn’t be interested in me. Better to just ignore it, rather than humiliate myself.”

“Humiliate? Why would you be humiliated? Is he an asshole?” Kix asks.

You sigh, “No. No, Kix. He’s perfect. I’m not good enough for him and I know it.” You shift, “Can we talk about something else, please?”

He’s quiet for a moment, “Yeah, alright.” Kix pauses, “Just, any guy would be lucky to have you, you know that right?”

You shake your head, “We both know that’s not true, Kix. But it’s nice of you to say so.” You shift, “But what about you? Surely there’s someone-”

“Yes. There is.” He says immediately, his gaze locked on your face, “She’s amazing. Kind. Caring.”

“Oh. She does sound great. You deserve amazing.” You want Kix to be happy. You want him happy even if it’s not with you. You want him to be happy so you smile, and try to pretend that your heart isn’t breaking.

“Yeah, maybe.” Kix shrugs, and glances at the TV, “I’m going to change to a different movie, I think.”

“Go ahead.” You smile at him, though it’s much smaller than usual, “I’m going to check on the food.” He hums something as you get up and turn towards the kitchen. 

You barely take a single step, before his hand wraps around your wrist. 

You turn and look up at him, “Kix? Is something wrong?”

He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, his hand releases your grip and then both of his hands rest on your shoulders, his grip firm. He obviously hesitates, seemingly at war with himself, and then he utters something in Mando’a, and he crashes his lips against yours.

You don’t react for the span of a heartbeat. His lips are warm and soft, and better than you could ever imagine. You lift your hands and lightly grip the front of his shirt, and lean into the kiss. And you kiss him back, and that’s apparently everything to Kix, because he groans against your lips, and somehow manages to pull you impossibly closer.

And when he breaks the kiss, he’s breathing heavily, and he presses his forehead against yours. His eyes are dark and somehow his hands moved from your shoulders to cup your face. 

“...Kix?” You whisper.

He swallows hard, his gaze dropping back to your lips, and there’s a look of longing. “It’s you,” He replies, his voice just as quiet as yours, “It’s always been you, and it’ll always be you.” He lightly trails his thumb over your lower lip, “I’m greedy and selfish and the idea of you kissing another man makes me-” He exhales sharply, “Give me a chance? I’ll treat you like you deserve to be treated, and I know I’m probably not who you want but…” He trails off, seemingly at a loss for words.

You stare at him with wide eyes for a moment, and then you smile, soft and slow. “Oh, Kix.” You whisper, and he tenses under your fingers, as though preparing for a blow, “The guy I was talking about is you.” You keep your voice low, as though you’re sharing a secret for his ears only.

His eyes snap to meet yours, “You…why didn’t you…You thought I would humiliate you?” He sounds hurt.

“No. Never.” You answer softly. Whatever else you planned to say to him was stolen by his lips sealing over yours once again.

While the first kiss was gentle, and almost chaste, this one was anything but. He tangles one of his hands in your hair, using your hair to tilt your head back for better access. He nips your lower lip, and then soothes the mild pain with a lazy trail of his tongue, and you’re helpless to do anything more than part your lips for him.

His tongue slides against your own, and you whimper against his lips. The noises escaping you seem to awaken something in him, as his free hand slides down your body, and ghosts across your clothed breast.

You can feel his erection pressing against your stomach, and your fingers twitch against his shirt. You want to touch him more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your life.

He breaks the kiss, and his lips move to trail down your throat. He licks, nips, and sucks his way to the juncture of your neck and shoulder, each caress of his lips pulling another pleasure filled noise from your parted lips.

“How long?” Kix asks through a groan, as he trails his lips across your throat to the other side of your neck.

“What?” You ask before he pulls another moan from you.

“How long before you have to worry about dinner burning?” He clarifies, his hand now sliding under your shirt.

“Oh, um…” You flicker your eyes towards the timer on the oven, “T-two hours.” You let out a shuddering moan when his teeth bite sharply into your neck, that’s definitely going to leave a mark.

He mumbles something in Mando’a against your neck, and your hands finally start moving, one hand slides up his chest and then up through his buzzed hair, your fingers lightly tracing his tattoos. Your other hand slides down his chest, over his hips, until you’re able to palm his cock over his pants. He groans low in his throat and his hips jerk once.

Kix’s lips trail back up your neck, and he catches your lips once more. He breaks that kiss and presses his forehead heavily against yours. “Mesh’la,” He murmurs, moving so that his lips just barely brush against your own. “I-” He trails off, unable to keep his lips off of you even long enough to finish his thought. “Need you,” He manages to gasp out, “Please.”

“You have me,” You whisper to him, and your words seem to settle some of his frantic energy.

His hands start moving slower, with more purpose. He removes each piece of clothing shielding you from him with surgical precision. His fingers slide against every inch of exposed skin, his lips ghosting after them. And before you know it, you’re totally bare to him, and his wandering fingers.

Kix’s fingers dip between your thighs, and he slowly, lazily almost, circles your clit with a practiced finger. Your gasp and your hips jerk against his hand, and he groans against your temple, “Mesh’la, you’re so wet for me.” He praises, a low chuckle falling from him as you shiver at his words.

“Wanted you for a while,” You admit as you try to move your hips so he’ll move faster, but whenever you move your hips, he stops moving his fingers. “Kix…” You whine.

He grins, and pulls you into a deep kiss, pulling his fingers away from you. You let out another whine, that changes into a started squeak as he effortlessly picks you up and walks you into your bedroom, “Oh mesh’la, I’m not fucking you on the couch.” And then he smirks, “Well, not yet.”

“Don’t care where, so long as you do.” You reply breathlessly.

He sets you on the bed, and then takes a step back to peel off his own clothes. You hungrily drag your gaze down his body, your fingers flexing against your comforter as you fight the urge to stand up and touch him.

Kix notices and he laughs, “Patience, cyare. You’ll get your chance to touch me.” He grins at you impishly, and then smoothly drops to his knees next to the bed. He keeps his gaze locked with yours as he lightly directs you to set your legs over his shoulders, and he slowly, teasingly, kisses up your legs.

Even knowing what his plan is, you still let out a startled noise when he slowly drags his tongue across your folds. A noise that quickly morphed into a moan of pleasure when he slowly circled your clit with his tongue.

He was a quick study. He slowly explored every inch of your pussy with his lips, tongue, and fingers, making note of what actions made you clench around him, what made your moan, what made you arch off the bed.

He circles your clit with his tongue, and then he wraps his lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves, and sucks very gently, which pulls a moan from you. Kix clearly thinks that it’s not enough, as he slides two of his fingers in you, slowly thrusting and then curling them so that he is hitting the spot inside you that makes you see stars.

You can feel yourself getting close, and you writhe on the bed, seeking just a little more friction. Kix’s name slips from your lips in a quiet plea, and he seems to understand what you’re trying to say without you saying anything, because his lazy movements become a little faster.

And the coil snaps and you see stars as you bite your lower lip to muffle the pleasure filled cry that wants to escape. And Kix doesn’t pull away until you gently smooth your fingers over his head. He presses one more kiss to your thigh and absently wipes his face with his hand, before he crawls over you and pins you to the bed between his arms.

“Next time,” Kix promises as his lips ghost against yours, “I’m going to make you scream, mesh’la.”

You blush bright red, and avert your gaze. 

Kix grins, and grabs your wrists, pinning them over your head with one hand, “It’s okay, cyare.” He coos, “I’m going to take care of you.” And then he kisses you and you forget everything that’s not him and you.

[astoldbyaja]

The Pink Blossom- Ch.28 - Final Chapter

We remained in hiding for a week trusting those who took care of us not to alert anyone about remaining samurai. Just because the emperor let us live, did not mean allies of Omura were not still out there trying to kill us. When Nathan could walk, I helped him dress in his uniform and watched the wagon take him into Tokyo. I knew Simon would make sure he was not harmed. As for Ujio, Nobutada and the rest of the samurai, we made our journey back into the mountains. I knew Nathan would return to me. I knew Emperor Meiji would do what was truly right for his people.

It was a slow ride due to everyone’s injuries, but with no one after us, it was a much-needed time for reflection for everyone and praying for those who did not return with us. Ujio and I rode side by side.

He rode tall and proud still, his wound healing as it should. He honestly acted as if he was not slowed down by it. The other cuts and bruises on his flesh would heal and he would be a new man in a matter of months.

Nobutada led his samurai into the mountains. He was now the lord of the village, and I knew soon Ujio would dedicate his life to protect him. The young lord looked back at us and he nodded at me. I merely smiled and bowed my head at him. I looked up at the sky for a moment. It was over, the killing and the bloodshed was over, for now at least…

9 months later

The sun was warm against my skin as I looked up at the sky. Cherry blossoms fell from the trees and were carried away by the wind. Children were playing out in the field, and I smiled as my hands were pressed to my back. The weight of my stomach fighting me some. I could see Higen and Magojiro amongst the group of kids. They saw me and yelled my name as they all ran up to me.

Before they looked at me curiously never before seeing someone like me. But now they cling to me when they are not with their mothers who now trusted me enough to help raise their kids.

I smiled and took their hands laughing as they all tried to tell me about their day at once. Now something catches their attention and they all run off. Higen pauses and looks back at me some with a smile, and I just smiled warmly at him. His little brother comes and takes his hand and runs with him as they wave at me. I wave in response and watch them happily. I rubbed my stomach gently as I did.

To the left side of the field I saw men, both old and young, training with wooden swords while men on the right side of the field were shooting arrows into straw targets.

“What are you doing on your feet!” I hear my loving husband’s voice boom, and I turn to see Ujio approaching looking at me with mild scolding eyes as he had a bucket of water in his hands. He was in his usual black robes, his hair in its top knot. “Taka says you need to be resting! My son will be here any day now and I will not have you falling or injuring yourself!”

Already he was taking my hand and gently guiding me back into the village. I gently laughed letting him guide me.

“You mean our daughter will be here soon!” I replied having changed my mind about the sex of our baby. He snorted some.

“You are carrying low you will be having my son and you said it yourself your family has boys first before a girl!” he argued. I smirked.

“And when we look between the legs and see she doesn’t have a thing like yours you’re going to feel very silly.” I said. He kept his hand in mine as we walked. He just shook his head smiling.

“Boy… girl, I don’t care. They will be ours.” he said with a firm nod looking at me. I waddled slowly and nodded at him in agreement.

“Yes, my husband, they will be.” I replied.

When we returned to the village months ago, we all mourned the loss of Lord Katsumoto and those who had fallen with him. Nobutada became the new lord of the village and together we all bowed in respect to him. And like this life went on. Everyone went on with perfecting the tasks they set out to do.

Taka was very sad for a long time due to losing her brother. But when Nathan and his horse came through the village entrance the village, she was happy again. The village was brought back to life. I remember watching he and Taka embrace lovingly before I took her place and hugged him. He had gotten through to Emperor Meiji. He had held Japan.

Lord Nobutada bowed to his toes and Nathan did the same. Ujio of course just watched with his arms crossed and gave a curt nod of respect to Nathan.

Two months after our return, he and I married and celebrated together. A white kimono was made with pink cherry blossoms sewn into it. Taka argued with the other women who were trying to get me ready. My hair would not do what they wanted and they did not know how to prepare it, so Taka told them to get out and took over. She braided my hair down my back and rolled it up in a nice bun putting some long pins in it. Ujio was in a black and white kimono. I had never seen a man look as handsome as he. Nathan was behind him as Taka was behind me as Lord Nobutada married us. Ujio didn’t smile, but as we stared at each other, I could see the warmth in his face as he stared at me. I could see the warrior in him standing tall.

Wedding gifts were given as well as things needed for the baby which was greatly appreciated. Ujio and Nathan worked together to make a crib and somehow, they still managed to not see eye to eye on it. Taka and I would just stand there shaking our heads as they bickered like children. Nathan would give a heavy sigh and try and explain something to Ujio who just grunted and kept his arms crossed being stubborn, but the job got done.

Later on, that night, there were a few fires made outside as people gathered to eat and drink and talk about the past. I was sitting on the many different blankets in our room humming gently as Ujio lied on my lap. His eyes just stared at my bare stomach as my fingers gently grazed through his long locks. He looked so mesmerized by my stomach. I still was not entirely used to being so big.

“Am I fat?” I asked down to him, and he grinned some giving a mild laugh.

“You are big and beautiful as you carry my child.” he responded pressing his lips to my stomach and gently kissing the spot beside my navel. Good answer. I grinned before feeling the baby move inside me, and a small bump presses out on my stomach where Ujio’s lips were. His eyes widened some.

“He is strong, my son hears my voice. He is happy!” he said with glee as he gently raised his hands to gently caress my stomach. I kept smiling down at him as he gently spoke into my stomach. I would let him believe whatever he wished. He gently whispers a soft prayer into my stomach, and I smiled watching him now. He finally looks up at me and raises himself up finally sitting before me.

“Have you thought of any names?” he asked. I looked up some in thought before shaking my head.

“No. And we will need to think soon, he or she will be here soon. You have any thoughts?” I asked. He looked down at my stomach for a moment before tilting his head some.

“Hiroshi.” he replied. I tilted my head some in thought before looking down at my stomach.

“What do you think, little one? Hiroshi?” I asked, and he smiled and watched me do this. We placed our hands on my stomach to see what we could feel and when the baby kicked my stomach again we both looked up at each other and I nodded. “I think he likes that name… it brings him honor.”

He smiled and leaned into me kissing me passionately in response. I let my hands raise up to caress his face some. We let our lips linger against each other before slowly pulling back.

“I love you.” he says softly against me, and I smiled gently remembering the first time our gazes met, his serious and dangerous eyes meeting my submissive and fearful eyes. His cold gaze met mine, when Katsumoto “introduced” us when Nathan and I were first taken captive. Through time I watched as his rough exterior softened and broke as his eyes looked at me no longer as an enemy, but as a love he could not live without. I sighed with content letting our hands curl together.

“And I love you.” I responded as he nuzzled his forehead into mine. And together we welcomed Hiroshi into the world five days later and with his birth our two completely different worlds would forever be sealed together…

The End

[boygiwrites]

Harley D. Dixon 34

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📖Chapter List.

Author's Note.

Sorry for the slightly longer wait between chapters than usual recently! Please enjoy! 😊

Walking back into the cell hall after everything that happened is a breath of fresh air.

Approaching the cell with caution, I'm almost afraid to interrupt the quiet chatter coming from inside. We've been gone for almost a full day, night having fallen over the prison, bringing with it a sense of calm. The first person to turn around and notice us is Beth, gasping at the sight of us, alerting the others of our return. The conversation morphs into curious mutters, questions of if we're okay and where we've been, as I continue into the cell, the sounds of their voices a faraway ambience. I come to a stop at the bed, unable to contain my smile.

The chatter dies away. There's a baby in Lori's arms, and its the most precious thing I ever saw.

"Would you like to hold her?" The woman weakly croaks, offering the bundle to me. "It's okay. She's a little sleepy."

"'She'?" I softly exclaim as Carol helps me embrace her, resting her heavy little head in the crux of my elbow, her whole body weighing no more than a few bottles of water. Wow. A girl. Ya couldn't tell like this, aside from the pink blanket she's swaddled in — she looks more like a doll than a baby. She's warmer than I thought. Her cheeks are fat and perfectly smooth, her nose a cute button, her lashes so small and delicate I think somebody must've taken the time to stick them there. I even wonder if she has angel wings. "Hi, baby. I'm Harley."

Looking up at Carl, I match his beaming smile. After months and months of waiting, he's officially a big brother.

"I think she likes you," Lori whispers to me, while everyone else looks on with fond gazes, not a sad face in sight.

"Y'know, she don't look like no Bob-ette," I decide, earning myself a round of hushed laughter. "I changed my mind."

Carol teases, "I don't think her Mom would've let you name her that, anyway."

As Dad steps forward, she takes the baby from me and places her in his arms, letting him take her as carefully as he'd take a glass vase.

"She got a name at all, yet?" He asks, looking down at her pristine face, sweat and dirt plastered all over his own skin.

"No," Carl shakes his head. "Not yet."

"Well, how about 'Little Ass-kicker?"

"Dad," I protest, making sure not to raise my voice too much. "How come I gets, 'Chicken,' and the baby gets, 'Ass-kicker'?"

As more quiet laughter breaks out, my Dad placates, "Hey, I'm only pullin' ya leg. We all know you're the top ass-kicker."

"You can teach her when she grows up," Glenn agrees, with Maggie hugging his side, her head resting against his shoulder.

"Me, too," Carl adds. "We can both teach her."

Looking back down at the baby, my Dad gently bounces her in his arms with the sort of ease only a parent could muster. I think back on the day Carl and I were sitting under that tree on the farm and we overheard his Momma blurt that she was pregnant, the months we spent out in the snow together, unsure if she and the baby would survive, and I think it's quite amazing that we managed to get here at all.

Suddenly, my Dad's eyes begin to well up, and he blinks the tears away as he hands the baby back to Lori.

"Good job," He mutters to her, kissing her cheek before standing back up.

Maggie smiles sympathetically, her own eyes slightly watery. "You alright, Daryl?"

"Yeah, s'just—," He clears his throat, swiping the heel of his palm over his eyes. "Reminds me of when Harley was born."

After a long stretch of silence, Carol asks, "Where's T-Dog?"

I avert my gaze to the floor as Glenn hesitates to answer for us. "He—... He was with Daryl and Harley."

"We made it outta the courtyard together," Dad explains, his tone grim. "Found our way into another part of the prison. Hid ourselves in some cupboard or other, dead knockin' on the door. We was already trapped in there 'fore we realized T'd been bit on the way in."

"Oh, God," Carol gasps, covering her mouth in shock, her silver brows knitting tightly over her tearful eyes. "No."

"We waited long as we could," He tells her in a comforting way. "And I promise you he ain't turned."

"Oh, God," She says again, as Carl puts a hand on her shoulder.

T-Dog was with us folk from the quarry since the very beginning. It's hard losin' somebody who saw you through all the ups and downs of a year in a world like this, almost as if to think that just because you've known them such a long time, it means they're invincible.

"I guess now's a great time to ask," Dad jokes, looking at Glenn. "Where's Rick?"

"The pressure got to him. When Maggie and Carol came back with Lori, she could barely walk, barely talk. They'd had to—," He pauses, uncomfortable with what he's saying. "—To perform a C-section. It wasn't pretty. Nobody knew where you guys were. We had no idea if Harley was alone, or if you were even still alive. That freaked him out even more, and then he saw the baby and he just ran."

"I stitched her up before the bleeding could get any worse." Herschel reassures us before we can ask. I look over at Lori, whose hair is tussled messily over her shoulder, looking more exhausted than anything. "She'll be bed-bound for weeks, but she's stable."

Glenn continues, "I've tried speaking to him, but I think he just needs some space right now. He's a live wire."

"Where is he?" Dad asks, but I don't think he plans on going out and finding him right now.

"In the boiler room of this cell block."

"He'll be glad to know Daryl and Harley are alive," Lori says, a badly concealed look of hurt in her eyes. "Somebody should talk to him again."

Glenn smiles a bit. "Maybe later, hey?"

"What a shit-show." Dad deadpans, what I'm sure everyone's thinking. "How'd this even happen? Y'all find out?"

"It was one of the prisoners," He says. "Rick thought he'd left him to die in a courtyard, but he escaped. Wanted revenge, I guess."

"Rick blames himself for that, too," Maggie adds sadly.

"Well, the bastard got it. He dead now?"

Glenn only nods.

When the baby burps up some spit, Beth quickly wipes it away with a little rag, and the rest of us decide it's time to go to bed.

"The baby is really cute," I whisper down to Beth and Carl as we all try to go to sleep, the cell block peacefully quiet.

"She looks like Mom," He smiles in the light of the electric lamp, blanket up to his chin. "I can't pinpoint it, but it's just... It's her."

"Go to sleep," My Dad's voice echoes.

"Sorry," We all call out, before Carl reaches over and flips off the light.

In the sudden darkness of our cell, I pull my blankets up, sighing deeply. All this talk of the baby is a bittersweet tang in my mouth, the aftertaste of gunpowder and blood never far behind. It's sad that T-Dog ain't get the chance to see the new addition to our family.

When somebody coughs, I'm reminded to take out my hearing aids and stuff them under my pillow.

The noise came from the prisoners' cell. Through their locked door, I can see a pair of feet sticking out from the bottom bunk as one of the men tosses and turns. I don't like it any more than I did before, but the two prisoners, whose names are Axel and Oscar, returned to the prison just like I thought they would. Though, it wasn't for the reasons I guessed. They ain't chickened out or starved. Glenn told us they heard the alarms blaring in the distance, knew something had gone wrong, and came running back to offer us whatever help they could.

I think it was just an excuse for them to cowardly weasel their way back in and steal a bed and a warm meal offa us, but even I know I can't blame them for that. We all want to be safe. Besides, they did help Rick and Glenn find the controls to shut off the alarms, and they ain't seem too sad about their dead buddy that set them off to begin with, neither. I guess they ain't done too badly for themselves.

They're lucky they're so pathetic, and that their cell block is completely run over by walkers, now.

But they ain't never gonna be T-Dog, and I hope they don't forget about that granola bar he gave 'em til the day they die.

The prison now has a graveyard before it has a farm.

The next morning, the white ball of the sun rises over the trees in the distant forest as I sit in the dry grass, watching as my Dad stomps the shovelhead into the dirt and pours it into a pile beside him, the repetitive noise of it all nearly lulling me back to sleep.

This is where T-Dog is gonna be buried, on the edge of the field, overlooking the sunrise. Never thought I'd say that.

Once Dad's finished the grave, he drives the shovel into the ground and steps out of it, sitting beside me in the sun.

"I wantchu to feel safe here," He sighs after a short pause, looking away from the forest to study my face. "You know I always want that."

"I feel safe," I tell him, and it's the truth. "You're here."

"And I'll always do my best to keep you safe, but what happened yesterday was scary. Weren't it?"

I nod again. "I'm just gonna miss him, I think."

"Me, too. I'm sorry you had to be there for it."

"You think it hurt?"

"No," He says sternly, in a way that makes me believe him instantly. "No, baby, it don't hurt like that. He would'a felt nothing."

"Like Tank?"

"Yeah. Like Tank," He agrees. "Like Morales. Sometimes, endin' the suffering is the kindest thing to do. Ain't I taught you that?"

Whenever he and Uncle Kyle used to take me hunting, I would always get upset if we ever came across a wounded animal, and it would be laying in the dirt, kicking its legs, honking in pain, and they'd just shoot it in the head. I'd cry, Why don't we help it? Why doesn't it get a plaster like when I'm hurt?, and Dad would say, Baby, sometimes being kind means you gotta do an unkind thing.

Hearing the sound of wheels wobbling loudly behind us, I turn around and see Glenn, Maggie, Axel, and Oscar making their way down the hill with a big wheelbarrow, a white sheet billowing out from it like a woman's long hair. I already know what's inside of it.

"The others will be here soon," Glenn says to greet us, setting the wheelbarrow down close to the open grave.

My Dad stands up and takes his shoulder in thanks, all of us gazing down at the covered lump — T-Dog's body.

"He was a good guy," Oscar muses somewhat indifferently. "He gave us couple of nobodies some extra food before we left."

"He was family," Glenn corrects him, offended.

"I had one friend like that in my entire life," He says. "You got a whole group. I'm sorry for your loss."

"Well, thanks for helpin' us go back for him," Maggie smiles weakly, before the first of our group begin to head over. "I guess it's time."

After the funeral, we return to the cell block, where Lori is tryna breastfeed the baby without any luck. I thought new Mommas always had enough milk to feed their babies, but Herschel tells us that isn't the case when the Momma has been through what Lori's been through — Sickness, starvation, injury, strain, a thing called, malnutrition. Her body just doesn't have what it needs to make milk.

"Somebody will have to go on a supply run," He shakes his head as Lori shushes the crying, hungry baby.

"I just feel so bad," She whispers, strong guilt written all over her face. "What kind of Mom can't feed her own child?"

"It's okay, Mom. We'll go," Carl comforts her, looking expectantly up at the adults, "Won't we?"

My Dad sends a questioning glance to Glenn, the only other person who can make big decisions for the group without Rick around.

"Please?" Carl continues. "My Dad said you'll let us help out more. You've been training us to deal with walkers. We're ready."

Dad looks at me with a brow raised. "And you wanna come, too?"

Nodding, I think of T-Dog. He would'a gone. I know it. Rick and Dad were right — This isn't a game — but we're not gonna learn much about surviving the world outside if spend every day inside the prison, only ever waiting for a time we might be old enough to try, that might not even come. We might be young, and we might'a messed up going after the infirmary on our own, but this is the right way.

Looking like he's thinking the same thing, Dad eventually decides, "Alright, then. As long as you give it the green light?"

Lori considers it for a moment, looking at her son. "I think you're right, baby. You're ready. And they'll take care of you."

His eyes light up. "So, that's a yes?"

"Yes," She nods, smiling faintly. "You be careful, though."

"Of course." He gives her cheek a small kiss, pulling away. "Thank you, Mom."

"Thank you, Dad," I say with a smile.

"I'm thinkin' we check out that strip mall on Durn Street," He says, pushing himself off the wall. "And, Glenn, I'm thinkin' you stay."

Agreeing, Maggie offers, "I'll come with you guys."

"Are you sure?" Glenn asks, lowering his voice. "With everything you've been through—?"

"I wanna go," She reassures him. "For Lori and the baby, I have to."

Relenting, he cups her jaw with his hand and gives her a quick kiss. "Okay. I love you."

"I love you," She smiles as they pull apart, before we exchange a bunch more goodbyes with each other and head outta the cell block.

It takes about ten minutes to walk to Durn Street, but I don't mind. The weather is good, the gentle breeze carrying the warmth of the sun along with it, the trees on either side of the highway quietly rustling against each other like smooth paper, a relaxing sound.

It would be a good opportunity to take in the ambience, like I often enjoy doing, if not for the fact that Maggie and Carl are singing some country song that never seems to end. Rising to the challenge, my Dad and I begin to sing a song of our own — A crazy one he used to play on the radio all the time — until they're forced to belt it out in an even louder, more annoying volume, leading us to do the same. 

When we do eventually get there, after a long singing battle that nobody wins, I'm feeling better than I have in days.

"Remember it ain't Winter anymore," My Dad reminds us as we step into the car park. "I know we used to let'chu come along with us a lot more back then, like when we went searchin' for presents, but it's warmed up since. Walkers ain't in low supply, now."

"Thanks, Captain obvious," I say in a funny voice, earning a scolding look.

"Yeah, and who are you?" He jokes. "Captain smartass?"

"Sounds about right," Maggie teases, coming to a stop in front of the pharmacy and knocking on the window. "Anybody home?"

We wait a moment or two, my Dad lifting his crossbow and shooting down the single walker that comes to greet us.

"Could be more inside," She warns us as she steps through the doorway.

She's right. We find a a pair of rotting walkers holed up in a cupboard at the back of the pharmacy, guarding some bottles of medicine and other supplies, and another walker slumped behind the service counter, but we take them out before they can do any damage. 

After we've looted all the baby formula we can find, which is only one small tub, we're back on the road again.

Of course, we sing all the way back home, too.

When we return to the cell hall in the early afternoon, the sight that greets us is a surprisingly sweet one.

Carol is passing the baby to Rick, whose fingers tremble as he reaches out for her. His blue eyes, wide and unblinking, stare at her small, doll-like face as he holds her against his chest, almost as if unsure if he'll poison her just by touch. He certainly looks like he's been locked away in a boiler room for two days, but for whatever reason, he's chosen to be here if only for a moment. Sometimes I wish I could hide away, too.

Pulling us over to the side, Herschel quietly asks, "How did you do? Everything alright?"

"We're fine, Daddy," Maggie whispers with a smile, kissing his cheek in greeting. "Kids did great, and we managed to find some formula."

"Only one tub." Dad warns. "It ain't much, but we didn't wanna overstay our welcome. We can go back and search more another time."

As Glenn approaches, Herschel puts a hand on Dad's shoulder. "Don't worry, son. Any little bit helps."

She hugs Glenn tight, only pulling away after a long moment. "Hey, you."

"So glad you're alright," He says, looking around at each of us.

"I killed a walker," I tell him proudly.

"Did you? Wow," He croons, even though it's a simple achievement. "Well done, Harley."

"And look who's here," Carol says to Rick, gesturing to us with a small, excited smile on her face. "Daryl and Harley. They're okay."

Rick's gaze meets mine. It feels like I've been slapped across the face without even being touched, but I recover quickly. I can see the relief flood through him in real time, before he moves onto my Dad, then back to me, making sure we're really here, really alive.

He searches for a third person, but he doesn't find them.

"I'm sorry," He mutters, his voice hoarse, stuck at the bottom of his throat. "I didn't think—...."

"Save it," Dad says gently, shaking his head. "Weren't your fault."

"I—"

"I said, 'Save it'."

After the farm burnt down, Rick promised us with the flames of the campfire reflected over his face that he would keep us safe. All Winter, he thirsted after finding a home for us, to the point where it became the only thing he ever wanted to talk about, if he talked at all.

What happened yesterday wasn't Rick's fault any more than it was mine, or Dad's, or T-Dog's.

I know he must feel like he's failed us — failed T-Dog, and maybe even the baby in his arms — but he hasn't. He never has.

Nodding slowly, Rick looks back down at his daughter, but unlike my Dad, he doesn't start bouncing her, doesn't coo at her, stroke her cheek, sing her a lullaby — He just stares, stares, and stares, like he would stare at a blank wall, contemplating nothing at all.

When she stirs, her face scrunching up in anger, Herschel speaks up. "She's hungry. Let me make her a bottle."

"Hey," Rick croons softly, his voice soothing out the wrinkles in the baby's forehead. "Hey, don't worry."

I almost don't notice the smile tugging at Lori's lips.

Author's Note.

A short and simple chapter. I think writing T-Dog's death threw me off a little bit, leaving me unsure of where to lead us next with this chapter (especially since we're in a bit of an awkward spot between major events), so sorry if this felt like filler - It kinda was! Hopefully, satisfying filler.

Can't believe we're so close to meeting Merle again. It's gonna turn everything upside down.

Hope you enjoyed reading and I'll see you in the next chapter! 💙😊

@poetoflawed

[darknight3904]

Horns and Claws

Masterlist to This Love

Asgard 987 A.D (Thor 17, Loki 17, Astri 15) 

   "Compensating for something, brother?" Thor asked with a grin on his face 

Astri stifled her laugh into an ugly snort as Thor voiced her exact thoughts. They had been waiting for Loki at the stables for some time before he finally showed his face. Of course, once he showed up he came wearing what might have been the strangest thing in all the realms. 

   "I know you are not commenting on my helmet when you both have ones of your own," Loki replied. 

    "Yes, we have helmets. You look like one of those Midgard animals we saw on our last trip there. What were they called again, Thor?" Astri laughed

   "I believe the animal was called a deer." Thor smiled as he helped Astri onto her horse. 

Astri only laughed harder when Loki made a clear point of not even looking at them in a clear attempt to ignore their taunts. 

   "Laugh all you want. My helmet also serves as a weapon." Loki said as they rode towards the Bifrost. 

   "Hope your head doesn't get caught in the doorway when we get back home," Astri smirked 

Thor's loud laughter drowned out Loki's quip back that was undoubtedly about how Astri had fallen over her own feet in the training grounds the other day. They had finally calmed their insults against each other when they reached the Bifrost. 

   "My princes. Lady Astri." Heimdall greeted the trio "I wish you all luck on Vanaheim." 

   "The bandits will not know what hit them." Thor grinned 

   "Loki I saw you putting your helmet on. I was hoping if I turned my eyes you'd have left it back at the castle." Heimdall said ever so seriously. 

   "Ha! I'm telling you it's weird looking," Astri smiled nudging Loki's side with her elbow 

Loki's response was a sideways glance at Heimdall and a harsh tug on a strand of her hair before he pulled her towards the dazzling lights of the Bifrost.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Vanaheim

Leaving Asgard for the first time without Odin or Frigga felt strangely freeing to Astri. Of course, It would have been more freeing if bandits that were plaguing the planet would've let them at least step out of the Bifrost's scorch marks before attacking. Astri watched wide-eyed as Thor was able to take down 15 of them just by summoning his lightning with Mjolnir. She quickly moved to defend herself against the one on her left that had missed being scorched but Loki beat her to it. 

   "Stay close to me." He ordered before turning to swiftly stab another ugly bandit in the eye 

Always so overprotective. Despite Loki's rude tone, Astri listened to his words and stayed within a few yards of the black-haired man as he cleared through the battle field while Thor flew on ahead. 

   "Is this all Asgard could summon to fight us? A little girl in armor?" A mocking tone suddenly filled her ears. 

   "If you must know, the AllFather is testing us to see if we are ready to go to battle on our own. He's confident that three of us are enough to bring your army down. So what does that say about you?" She smiled, unsheathing her sword.

  

   "Strange choice of last words." He grumbled

His large battle axe went slicing through the air, aiming for her head. Astri could feel her heart rate increasing as she dodged another blow, this time her dodge had her stumbling over her own feet and to the ground. She had never been good at sparing on Asgard and now this was the first time she fought someone who wanted to rip her head off. Another heavy blow came at her but this time she quickly rolled to her side to evade it. The giant battle axe meant for her face landed in the trunk of a fallen tree.  Her attacker began pulling at it while Astri took a moment to assess his skill. He was the more experienced fighter and was physically stronger than her. She glanced down at her sword that glittered in the warm Vanaheim sun. 

You shouldn't always depend on magic, dear.

Frigga's warning that she had told Astri since she was a child had gone in one ear and out the next as Astri sheathed her sword. 

   "Giving up, girl?" The man laughed as he finally pulled his axe free.

   "Just switching strategies." Astri smiled 

The bandit snorted like her words were merely childish ignorance, and maybe it was but as he charged once more Astri could see the fear in his eyes when her hands glowed. Her magic hit him square in the chest and he was sent back quite far. Two of his fellow fighters rushed over to scoop him up. 

   "A witch! They brought a witch to the field! I'll kill her! I've always wondered if they truly have black blood!" He exclaimed, pulling off his now broken chest piece

   His comrades glanced at him and then Astri who was still several feet away. Then, as if they had coordinated it, they all let out a rather annoying battle cry before attempting to rush her. Her hands lit up once more and she let go of a rather strong burst. Her three attackers hit the ground unmoving, they'd never move again thanks to her. 

   "Astri!" Loki's faraway voice broke her trance as she stared at her first kills. 

Before she could turn toward him, she was slammed to the ground by something rather heavy and smelly. She opened her eyes to find what might have been the ugliest individual in all the realms on top of her, sitting on her lungs. 

   "What a pretty girl...almost as pretty as that oaf with the hammer." His disgusting voice said 

   "Get off," Astri commanded, letting her hands glow once more. 

The ugly heavy lug went flying off her and a little to her right as she heaved, trying to catch her breath. She looked over at him and saw his large form pulling itself off the ground. He had to be twice the size of Thor with horrible claws that looked ready to slice her in half. Along his belt, there was a dozen throwing knives, and a sword that looked as long as she was tall. His skin was welted and peeling like he was singed by fire or rather lightning. On his back, there was a large bow with arrows to accompany it. He was armed to the teeth and all Astri had was a sword, knife, and what Frigga had taught her. 

   "A rather strong, pretty girl." He said, quickly recovering "All right, beautiful... let's see how well you fight." 

Astri barely had time to duck before a knife went over her head. The man? Creature? Animal? Laughed as she righted herself again. Another knife. Dodge. And another. Quickly jump to your left! What're you doing? Just fight back! Astri turned to face the thing once more and quickly let out a burst of power. Of course, that ugly thing could dodge that. She thought to herself. She readied herself for the next knife, but it never came. Instead, there was a soft whistle of air before an arrow lodged itself in her leg. 

   "No more magic for you, little one." His voice filled her ears as she ripped the arrow out of her leg with a gasp 

   Astri looked at her hands, willing any power to come to her, instead, she was met with nothing as he charged again, this time with claws extending from his hands. That quiver must have been laced with something to subdue her magic.

   "After we beat Thor and that idiot with the knives I'm taking you back to my home!" He laughed and got ready to swing at her. "Can't wait to take that armor off!" 

Astri's heart pounded as she pulled her sword out. She could do this she just had to focus. A sharp inhale and as the air filled her lungs she swung to block his hands. Success! The screeching of metal on whatever those claws were made of filled her ears as she pushed back, jumping back to a safer distance. Here comes the second attack...breathe Astri. This time though she must've been holding her damn sword at an incorrect angle because when they made contact it snapped leaving her with a short stub of metal and an ornate hilt in hand. 

   "Looks like I'm winning this one." He smiled 

Astri quickly pulled her knife from her side. It was rather short but she had spent years watching Loki fight with his. She could do this. It was as if he moved in slow motion as he charged at her, claws out ready to cut her in half. Her grasp on the knife turned her knuckles white as she quickly dodged and jumped onto his back. He cried out when her knife made contact with what she was pretty sure was his throat. She pressed down hard and quickly dragged it backward toward herself in an attempt to behead him. Hot blood sprayed and got in her mouth as she pulled before he collapsed backward. 

Astri groaned as she pushed his heavy form off her. Of course, he had to fall backward onto her and not forward onto that ugly face of his. Warm blood dripped down her and dyed the grass. She glanced at his head which had come fully off like some children's toy. Her thinking was interrupted by loud yelling and she looked up to see what must have been 50 men charging at her. Gods she wanted to go home and take a soak in a bath. Her knife remained sharp as ever as she picked it up from the reddened grass at her feet. 

   "She killed our champion, get her!" one yelled as they got closer 

So this is how I go. Odin never should have sent just three of us, she thought to herself.

A loud crack of thunder filled her ears just as she had gotten her knife tight in her grasp once more. To her delight Thor landed in the center of all the madness, his lighting leveling the enemy's forces. 

A hand at her back nearly sent her screaming as she quickly grabbed the thing and slammed it to the ground, quickly straddling her attacker's waist.

   "It's me!" Loki's strained voice cried as she pressed her blade harshly to his throat

Relief filled her as she let him go and collapsed on the ground next to him.

   "Are you alright?" Loki asked sitting up next to her 

   "Don't I look alright?" Astri groaned 

   "Well, you look..." Loki trailed off

   "You look terrible!" Thor said as he sauntered over 

   "Thank you, Thor," Astri said as she let Loki help her to her feet.

Astri was a few steps ahead of the brothers as they walked through the battlefield making sure there were no remaining fighters. 

   "I want to apologize for leaving the champion to you. They released this ugly beast that kept my attention for too long." Thor said falling into step with a bloody Astri.

   "It's okay. I feel accomplished. I've never really beaten anyone in hand-to-hand combat before" Astri responded 

   "That was more of a near-death, lucky survival experience, Astri," Loki said catching up to the pair

   "Hush. No one asked." Astri said with a wave of her hand "You should be glad I killed him. He called you the idiot with knives when we were fighting." 

   "Did he call me anything?" Thor asked 

   "I believe it was something along the lines of pretty oaf with a hammer." She smiled 

   "Well, he has good tastes." Thor grinned.

Astri laughed when she saw Loki's disgruntled look as Thor accepted the compliment.

   "Don't worry Loki," She smiled, tossing an arm around his shoulders "At least he didn't call you greasy." 

Astri's Armor Pictured above

[archester-creations]

Rated: G

Pairing: Optimus Prime & Woodrow Burns; Optimus/Woodrow

Word Count: ~1k

A/N: Day four of @heartsandsparksshipweek homesickness and history

It was a surprise to Woodrow when he ran into Optimus. Though he'd gotten the impression that Optimus moved around a lot, for one reason or another. He was excited. There were so many questions he had for Optimus that he just didn't have the time to ask when they met the first time. Nor did he think to ask for a way to contact him. If there is even a way to contact Optimus. The other bots probably have one, just like his family always has some form of way to contact him and vice versa. But could it translate to humans or would it be some mental link…?

"Optimus?" Woodrow called out and the big bot startled. "What are you doing out here?"

Optimus' helm turned to him carefully. "Chief Burns' brother," –"Woodrow," Woodrow said with a smile– "why are you out here?"

"I asked you that first," Woodrow chuckled. "I live here."

"You live out here?" Optimus asked, helm tilted to the side.

"Yep! For now at least. Can I sit with you?" Optimus gestured at the empty spot on the log next to him, so Woodrow walked over and sat down. This close to Optimus he could feel the bot's heat. Could hear him breathe (and wasn't that interesting?). Woodrow leaned to the side so he could look up at Optimus. Blue optics were already looking down at him. "So? What're you doing out here?"

Optimus sighed. It seemed a small thing, for a mighty bot. The action didn't even ruffle his hair. "Thinking."

Woodrow nodded. "Sometimes the best thinking can only be done in a remote forest in the middle of nowhere."

"Do you do it often?" Optimus asked.

"Sure!" Woodrow said. "Ever since Charlie and I were kids, though the forest wasn't so remote then."

They sat in silence, the two of them. The rest of the forest juxtaposed them in its movement. Birds called to one another, deers jumped over bushes and fallen logs; the smaller creatures scurried along the underbrush and the insects went about their daily rituals.

"What are you thinking about?" Woodrow asked.

"Home." Optimus looked up. He sounded tired. Not physically tired, but spiritually tired. Run down. Woodrow lifted his eyes to the skies as well. Some blue penetrated the leaf cover, and with it came the idea of the sun. "Cybertron."

Woodrow looked back over at Optimus. "Tell me about it."

"What do you wish to know?" Optimus looked down at him and Woodrow shrugged.

"Whatever, I'm not picky. Honestly, any information would be pretty cool to have."

"Very well," Optimus hummed. For a time, he went silent again, optics back on the tree tops.

"We don't have weather," Optimus eventually spoke without looking back down. "Not really. Nor do we have your seasons."

"Do you have plants? Forests?" Woodrow asked.

"We have something approximating your forests, yes," Optimus said. "Though ours are more crystalline than yours."

And Optimus continued to tell him about Cybertron, about the planets closest to it, about life, until the forest darkened around them. Not once did Optimus mention why he was on earth, or why he couldn't go back. (He didn't actually mention that, either. But Woodrow didn't think someone talked like that about a place unless they had no way to return.)

"It is getting dark," Optimus said. "Perhaps I can return you to wherever it is you are staying."

Woodrow smiled up at him. "Nah, I've gotten pretty good at navigating in places like this even with my eyes closed. Thanks for offering, though." Optimus inclined his helm. "Maybe you could find me again and tell me more about Cybertron instead?"

"... I don't think I would mind that," Optimus said and Woodrow cheered internally.

"Though I move around a lot," Woodrow said apologetically. He never had much of a plan when he moved, either. He just followed the adventure.

"Don't worry, I will return tomorrow with something for you so I can locate you. If that is what you wish," Optimus said.

"Yeah! That sounds perfect," Woodrow said.

"Until tomorrow, then, Woodrow Burns," Optimus said. Then, to someone else, "Ratchet, the ground bridge please."

A portal of swirling blues opened a few feet away from where they stood. Woodrow felt his eyes widen at it. Real alien tech. Optimus nodded at him, then stepped through. The next second both bot and portal were gone. He absolutely had to ask about this tomorrow.

[hopepaigeturner]

Bridgerton appreciaiton week: Day 5

Day 5: Favourite episode & colours

2x03: Bee in Your Bonnet.

Honestly adore this episode for so many reasons—ofcourse Pall Mall must be mentioned. So, here’s a little something—the significance behind the sibling’s mallet preferences. (mix of book and show, done chronologically)

*~*~*~*~*

BLACK: ANTHONY

Summer 1792

“Here Anthony, take this one.”

The eight-year-old stared, wide-eyed as his father handed him the black mallet—the grip rough from years of being fashioned to his father’s winning grip. Reverently Anthony took it and, with a solemnity years greater than his small stature, lined up to the wicket.

That was the first game of Pall Mall Anthony won—and not his last.

PURPLE: BENEDICT

Summer 1794

“Mother why do you not play?” Benedict asked as his mother reclined under the canopy with two babies of various ages sprawled around her.

“Oh, I used to, but since having all of you I have not had the time! Or the arms.” As if to illustrate her point, Daphne crawled into her lap.

“That’s a shame.”

“Truly, my dear, I do not mind.” His mother lifted Daphne into the air, a bright smile mirroring Daphne’s delighted giggles.

“Which was your mallet?”

“The purple one—or Violet one as your father used to call it…” his mother’s eyes got that unfocused look in them, as it always did whenever she dwelled upon their father. “It is a little sad that it has been forgot for so long…”

Benedict scrunched his brow, looking at the collection of sticks.

“I can fix that.”

He ran over and pulled the purple mallet out and ran back to her. “I shall play it always, then it is as if you are playing as well.”

He gave her his best beam and was rewarded with one of her own.

“Oh, my lovely Benedict,” Violet kissed his brow, “I do love you so.” Benedict’s chest swelled. “Now go, my brave paladin—go secure our victory!”

Every game since, Benedict takes a moment’s pause to bow to his mother, violet mallet in hand, much to her amusement.

GREEN: DAPHNE

Summer 1800

“I want to play.”

“You cannot play.”

“I wish to play!” Daphne cried at Colin, crossing her arms.

“You are far too young to play,” Colin huffed, picking up the red mallet. “And this is a boy-only game.”

“You can play next time, Daph,” Benedict placated, resting on his violet mallet, “we have been planning this for days.”

“Just because I am a girl does not mean I cannot play. I shall tell mother!”

“Daph, Daph,” Benedict rushed forward. “We must not disturb mother, she is resting.”

Indeed, their net sibling was due in mere weeks.

“Look Daph, if you can find the green mallet, I shall let you play.” Anthony offered, sharing a smirk with Colin. “Careful, the last time we saw it was over there,” he gestured to the dense shrubbery at th edge fo the lawn. “It has been a whole year since it was last seen. Good luck.”

“Anthony—” Benedict sighed.

“Deal.” Daphne turned on her heel and strode off.

*~*~*~*

Colin just missed Anthony’s ball. Anthony crooned and walked over to his ball, perfectly positioned for a shot through the final wicket.

Suddenly a green ball smacked into Anthony’s, sending it rolling down the hill.

The brothers looked up to find Daphne, ripped dress and twigs in her hair, smirking.

Unfortunately, that was not the last time the brother underestimated Daphne at Pall Mall—nor the last time they paid for such ignorance.

YELLOW: COLIN (ofc)

Summer 1805

“Are you sure you do not wish for me to stay with you Pen?” Eloise asked a bandaged Penelope. The girls had accidentally fallen out of a tree the day prior.

Colin commended his sister. All could see that she was practically raring to sprint onto the Pall Mall pitch.

“No, no. I do not mind watching—I fear I would be no good.”

“Nonsense—Benedict still plays.”

“Hey!”

“Are you sure?” Eloise asked once more.

“Absolutely El, do not let me spoil your fun.” Regardless, Penelope looked rather forlorn as Eloise grabbed her red mallet.

That would not do.

Colin always liked making his little sister’s friend smile or laugh—he liked Penelope’s laugh.

“Come on Colin—grab a mallet.”

Colin took one last glance at Penelope.

“In honour of our guests then…” he whipped the mallet out with a flourish. “I shall pick yellow.” He winked at Penelope and Penelope giggled.

Yes, he did like Penelope Featherington’s laugh.

RED: ELOISE

Summer 1806

“No, I do not want it.”

“You can have it next time we play Francesca,” Daphne tried to placate.

“But I wanted the blue. Orange is an ugly colour.” Francesca cried, all eight years of insolence bursting out of her.

“Red can be a very lovely colour, Frannie,” Colin said twisting his favourite yellow mallet in his hand.

“No—it is monstrous!”

“Francesca!” Daphne cried. Francesca’s eyes widened when she took in little Penelope, two steps behind Eloise, twirling a red-orange curl between her fingers.

Eloise’s eyes narrowed and a flush of feeling welled through her.

“Give it here,” she snatched the mallet out of Francesca’s hand. “I want the red one. I think orange is a lovely colour—like fire! And fire is fun and very pretty.”

Eloise gave her family a resolute expression, when no one complained she gave Penelope a small smile. Penelope returned it.

Later when Eloise was only third—third, a record! —Penelope came up to her.

“You did not need to do that,” she whispered.

Eloise took a moment, remembering how they had spent their first afternoon together dreaming up an adventure with female pirates while laying on the nursery floor. Their place of dreams and worries.

“Nonsense, I meant every word. Your hair matches your spark Penelope—the spark we share. Just think of all the things we are to do!”

She hooked her arm around Penelope’s and squeezed.

No matter what they used their spark for, Eloise knew the pair of them would always be side by side—nothing would ever break that.

ORANGE: HYACINTH

Summer 1815

“Why do you always lose at Pall Mall?” Hyacinth asked her favourite, and only, brother-in-law.

Simon sighed and smiled ruefully at her.

“It seems I have not got the skill. Perhaps you Bridgertons have an inherent knack for this game, one passed over the generations.”

“But you married Daphne, so you are a Bridgerton.”

Hyacinth didn’t notice Simon touched expression.

“W-well…why do you not play Miss Hyacinth?”

He always called her that and it made her feel ever so proper.

“Apparently, I am not old enough.” She stuck her tongue out at her family spread across the lawn. “Their loss, for I shall have years of analysing their tactics, ready for the day I step froward and knock all their balls the lake!”

Simon chuckled at her fervour.

“Hmm, say Miss Hyacinth. Perhaps you could practice,” he gestured to his orange mallet.

“It is against the rule to collaborate among players.”

“But you are not a player, Miss Hyacinth, as you said, you are a spectator.”

Hyacinth beamed at the twinkle in his eye and grabbed the mallet, surveying the field.

“So, teammate—what is your move?”

Hyacinth’s eyes landed on Benedict’s ball causing her to grin.

“Chaos,” Hyacinth whispered.

BLUE: FRANCESCA

Summer 1824

Typically, Francesca did not make a fuss. Eloise never returning her book? Fine. Daphne borrowing her ribbon and losing it? Fine. Being ignored by her elder brothers whenever they went riding? She could live with that.

But the blue Pall Mall mallet was hers.

No one knew why. But gradually they had accepted it—after all, Francesca never quarrelled too hard for anything else.

One night, when the guilt of lying in Michael’s arms was swamped by the utter bliss of fitting into his embrace, she told Michael the truth.

The day before her father’s death the family had played Pall Mall. In that match she had held the blue mallet, while her father directed her shots, hands gently adjusting hers as warm as his words of encouragement.

That had been the first Pall Mall game she ever played.

PINK: GREGORY

Summer 1827

Unlike his siblings, Gregory never had the chance to pick a favourite mallet. More often than not he would be left with the pink mallet—much to his chagrin and Hyacinth’s delight. Consequently, he always blamed the mallet for his lack of Pall Mall wins or tried to bargain with anyone to swap.

Until finally, fate aligns, and he grabs the black mallet. (It does help that half his siblings are sequestered with their various spouses around the country). And he does so right in front of the beautiful Hermione. The pink mallet lands in Lucy Abernathy’s hand—the colour suiting her.

That is—until she starts playing…ridiculously well. The pair bicker around the entire course, giving each other pointed glares or smiles of triumph whenever the other inches ahead.  

Gregory barely looks at Hermione.

Nor does he find himself sulking when Lucy beats him at the final post. Because, for a moment, when Lucy seems to be lit from within, holding the pink mallet proudly above her head—his heart flutters.

[targcrazies]

TLWOTO- CH 2

Summary: It is 104 AC, a year since King Viserys ascended the Iron Throne. His younger brother, Prince Daemon, has just been widowed. Seeing an opportunity to build a profitable alliance, Lord Bartalos of the Reach, one of the few High Valyrian lords residing in Westeros, has proposed marriage of the Prince to Maera Bartalos, his older daughter. His son and heir to Highgarden, Myles Bartalos, is to join the City Watch.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

CHAPTER 2

warnings: incest

Maera found herself draped in one of the most beautiful and expensive gowns she had ever worn. The skirt and bell-shaped sleeves were made of black silk, soft to the touch. The bodice, however, was made of red muslin. Strands of her long silver hair were plucked at the back of her head with the hairpin, her ears adorned with earrings shaped like their last tamed dragon, Gaelithox, before the doom. On her neck gleamed the large red ruby of her mother, her fingers adorned with rings of precious stones. Her eyes were streaked with kohl, her cheeks muddied with red balm. She looked the part her father wanted to marry her into.

She was being escorted by two other of her ladies alongside Trysta, following closely behind her brother. Before they could enter the great hall, their mother, Lady Bartalos ran toward them. She took hold of both her children and detoured them to the throne room.

“Your father won’t let you meet the Prince.” she announced quietly, “She finds the Prince’s demand utterly unreasonable, saying that you will meet him only when you are due to.”

Myles looked at his mother, his eyebrows furrowed, “Can he do that?”

“Myles, you know him, he’s hotheaded. We cannot-”

“Mother, it has not been long since Father had gathered our troops to rush King’s Landing in support of Laenor Velaryon. We cannot treat the Prince in anger, we will only endanger ourselves further.” Maera reasoned with her Mother when she could not reach her Father, hoping the words travel through, “The apology we have received has been considered an act of mercy, for the Prince despises Father, and in extension, us.”

“I know, dear… if you wish to see him, I can make it seem like we are acting on your behalf and not our own. That is the only way your Father could possibly find it within himself to let him see you. Shall I tell him that you wish to see him?”

“Perhaps,” Maera looked away from her mother’s gaze, “I did take my time to prepare in haste.”

“Son, why don’t you come with me, and we can tell your Father together?” Myles took note of his mother’s harried nerves and took her arms. As he walked off with her, he looked back at his sister over his shoulder, nodding reassuringly.

Maera walked around the throne room for a bit, contemplating possible scenarios. She quietly exited the room, telling Trysta that she wanted to take a walk in the garden, gather her thoughts and calm her nerves. She could hear her parents’ murmurs but chose not to pay any heed to them. It was for them that she felt so restless, she’d rather avoid confronting her father altogether than lash out at him for the first thing he could possibly say wrongfully. She slowed her pace when she finally reached the garden, meandering around the trees and flowerbeds. The sun shone bright and strong, scorching hot. She thanked the Seven for her sleeves that allowed air to flow through to her better.

She picked up a rose that had fallen onto her path, leaning carefully against one of the larger trees. She could not help wondering what took them so long to make a decision and was contemplating walking back to the throne room to have some information before she felt two light taps on her right shoulder. She did not know what she was expecting when she turned around, but she felt her breath get stuck in her throat when she finally saw him.

She had never met him, but it was evident in how he assumed the ground beneath him, as if he was the God of it. He was not necessarily, significantly taller than her, but he stood with such command that he overwhelmed her presence. His hair fell on his shoulders, his bright purple eyes were set down on her. She stared up at him, agape.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Bartalos. I did not imagine you’d make your way here.”

“Your Grace,” she caught hold of herself soon enough, taking several steps backward and curtseying appropriately, “I cannot see you unchaperoned, may we walk back to the Great Hall and converse in the presence of everyone?”

He tutted his tongue and shook his head, his hands folded behind him neatly as he closed the gap between them, “Have you learned no manners, young lady? You’re supposed to greet me, ask me how my journey was, pray that I am comfortable, and extend courtesies.”

She wanted to apologise and rush back to her brother, but he interrupted, “You must be glad that I chose to stroll through your garden instead of letting Caraxes whisk me away back to King’s Landing, given your father’s disrespect and maltreatment of a guest, a royal guest. This betrothal could fall through easily, like sand through fingers, my lady.” he reprimanded with the amusement of a father disciplining his only child for the first time ever,

“I apologise, your grace, for the misapprehension of propositions. My Father must have meant that I could not be made ready for an audience on such short notice, given I was only expecting to see you in more than two weeks, no sooner.” She began dutifully, “But again, your grace, I believe you are in the right to request a meeting with your betrothed as you have chosen to take essential time out of your princely duties to pay us a visit, for which we are greatly humbled and thankful. Please, do not mind the words of my Father, he has the energy and enthusiasm of a Valyrian lord, you must know.”

He watched her as she swallowed, “You’re seventeen, yes? Only a year older than when I got married.”

“Yes, your Grace.”

“You are sharp for a seventeen-year-old,” he remarked as his eyes slid over her form. “Would you like us to walk back to your parents?”

Before Maera could formulate an answer, her eyes found Myles running into the garden toward them. From afar, she could tell that he was not pleased with what he saw, his jaw tight. “Ah, there’s your chaperon!” Daemon mused as Myles stopped beside his sister. He let the comment pass, curtseying.

“Your Grace,” he started, “We are honoured by your presence. It is so kind of you to pay us a visit.”

“You’re too nice, Ser Bartalos. And you look too young, you haven’t even grown a beard yet. Could you possibly sack the city of its burglars, thieves, rapers, and killers?” the corner of his lips drew upward as he eyes the boy with incredulous disposition.

“Your Grace, I am a knight, I have faith in my skills and my strength.” Myles affirmed as he looked the Prince in the eyes.

“Winning tourneys is glorious, yes, but the labour of City Watch is arduous, it’s callous and demanding. What you mention is the least of my expectations. I shall make the most of it, by the King’s orders.” Daemon eyed both the siblings closely, his voice then less stern as he remarked, “You both look so alike, almost like twins.” Then, almost exclusively to Myles, he chirped, “Could you kindly tell your sister that the betrothal has not happened yet? I am here to ensure that Lady Bartalos does not have to travel twenty hours for nothing.”

Maera’s mouth fell open, “But, the King approved-”

“But, it is not the King who is marrying, is it? It is I, if I choose not to not like you, my Lady, then we won’t be moving forward with the betrothal.”

As the damage had already been done and the Prince and the young Lady had met, it would be wise to just let them converse chaperoned. Maera was instructed to sit opposite the Prince during lunch, with her ladies on either side. Her brother sat on the other side insistently, saying it was to show support. The Prince enquired about her education; she was well-read in history, philosophy, and Valyrian and Westerosi texts and literature. She spoke both languages fluently. She was also taught geometry and algebra, finding the latter tedious. She played the harp and danced well, and was an excellent tailor.

“Do you know how to handle a sword, my Lady?”

“Not quite, your Grace. My father thought it to be inappropriate for women to take up sword fighting. My brother has taught me, albeit very little.”

“Would you call yourself religious, my Lady?”

“Of course, the Mother bless us all.” She lied, she did not understand the dominance of the Seven in the lands and neither saw much merit in religious offerings. Her brother, despite being a skeptic, was more religious at heart than she was.

He scoffed at her, taking a sip of his wine, choosing to engage in further conversation with her brother regarding his sword skills, what changes Myles thought the City Watch needed to bring about, and if he had any innovative ploys for the betterment of the City Watch. In less than four weeks, her brother was to become one of the King’s commanders and a member of the City Watch. Soon enough, Laena Velaryon would also grow and be wed to her brother. She gripped her butter knife to exert some of the energy elsewhere, her eyes staring holes in her meal. The conversation concerning Myles’s betrothal was also brought up, to which Lord Velaryon happily added his delight at such a fruitful alliance. The Prince was quick to offer further backhanded appraisals regarding Myles, much of which Myles shrugged off with imminent grace.

After they were done supping, Maera was instructed to give the Prince a tour of Highgarden; the Godswood, the Library, the glass garden, the grand sept; of course, chaperoned. Myles intended to assist them, too, to which the Prince sneered and pointed out that Myles seemed to not have much to do apart from escorting his sister from here to there. It was only after Myles left that he acknowledged that it was not unusual for a brother to be protective of his sister. The tour began at the glass garden, progressing to the Godswood. The Prince took his time in the library, finding Valyrian texts that Daera the Deserter had brought with her when she left Lys. The tour ended abruptly then, the Prince announcing that he wanted to speak to Maera in private, unchaperoned.

Maera looked back at her ladies, asking them to wait outside for a moment. Her instruction was stern and they slipped away without raising a noise. “Your Grace,” she turned to face the Prince, her back straight and her chin high.

“My Lady, you are a wonderful woman. But, I am afraid I cannot marry you.” The Prince standing before was known, and rightfully so, for being proud and haughty. However, then he seemed calm and almost deferred.

“Oh…” Maera wondered how her father would react to the news. Much was lying on her shoulders for easing the waters rising between the two houses. Even though her brother’s joining the City Watch would certainly help diminish some of the tensions, marriage would have been the most strategic alliance to bind their families.

“You must take no offense, my Lady. Despite your father’s insolence and- what many might call- treason, you are a High Valyrian family, essential for the cultural sustenance in the West here. However, I really hated my wife, earnestly, until the moment she passed. She was dull and I cannot bear boredom for even a second. You must make the perfect bride for some other high Lord, yes, but you and I won’t be happy.” He explained duly. Uncharacteristic of what was considered to be purely princely, he cocked his head downward, “I apologise, I know much preparation was taken on your part.”

Maera quietly contemplated the consequences of this outcome. Her father’s rage, her mother’s sheer disappointment, her brother’s fear of impending disintegration, her rushed marriage to one of her coddled cousins whose only achievement was being a minor member of the Bartalos house. She would only ever be Lady Bartalos, daughter and sister of the Lord Paramount of the Mander. Her son would inherit a small scrap of land, perhaps in Bandallon, and she and her children would die insignificant in history. Her father wouldn’t write to her, leaving behind any historical record of her existence at length. A hundred years from now, her name would remain unrecorded, and she would only be referred to as the nameless older daughter of Baenar the Rebel, whose attempts of marrying his daughter to the Rogue Prince remained only trite.

Daemon took note of the conflict on her face, apologising again, “I know that your father must have expected you to be the peacemaker for the conflict. I would like to extend a separate invitation to you in this regard,” he placed a conciliatory hand on her arm, “please, come to King's Landing as a lady-in-waiting and tutor to Princess Rhaenyra, the King’s only child. Do you speak the Valyrian tongue?” he only asked the question in her mother tongue, and she replied in affirmative. “My Lady, then you needn’t worry. I shall talk to your parents tomorrow, ease to them the news, masquerading it as my choosing to abstain from marriage for solely religious and military reasons. I shall extend the invitation in grace to the Lord and Lady Bartalos, my Lady. You may even bring your Septa with you!”

Maera felt genuine relief wash over her, she took the Prince’s hand and kissed the back of it, “I thank you most cordially, your Grace, for the unsurmountable favour.” she looked at the Prince with a smile of solidarity, “I must invite the ladies back inside.”

Maera showed the Prince his quarter at the Guest House. Lord Velaryon was put in the second largest suite, while the Prince was stationed at the grandest. The bed was covered in feathers, the heavy silk curtains light to the touch yet perfectly capable of blocking in the early morning light. The bassinet was ornate and the cupboard space was abundant.

“I shall give you a tour of the Main Keep tomorrow morning, your Grace. It’s the eastern hold that you perhaps can see from the windows here. The sun peeks first into my room when it begins to rise.” Maera informed. The Prince informed her that he would like to take his dinner in his quarter, as he was tired and would like to be spared from the exchange of pleasantries. Maera promised the Prince that she will pass the news to her father so that he takes no offense.

Once spared from the tenuous ordeal, she excused her ladies to their dismay, and ran to the garden. Maera usually takes a walk with Myles as the sun sets, starting from one end of the garden to the other. She found him dawdling all by himself when he saw her, closing the distance with a few steps.

“Brother, guess what,” she began in unconcealed joy, “the Prince won’t marry me!”

She saw her brother’s face fall, “What?” Maera immediately realised that the news should have been broken differently.

“He said that he couldn’t marry me, but he extended to me an invitation to become a tutor to the Princess Rhaenyra of sorts. This way, I could get into an advantageous marriage. The Princess’s grace will definitely make for a diplomatic alliance and put us in favour with the court. He will tell Father in the morn and he said he will be careful to make it sound like a deal just as advantageous!”

Her brother was yet to understand her delight over the change of circumstances, “But sister, you were to marry the Prince. If he were to become an heir, which he shall, you would be a Princess of the realm.”

Maera felt her smile falter, “Yes, I am aware. But, I won’t have to marry the Prince. I won’t have to marry anytime soon. You cannot marry within the next three years, considering that Lord Velaryon’s daughter is still too young. We will have a few more years to ourselves, at the court, without any intervention.” She knew that her voice was mired in desperation, her eyes languishing, looking for a sign of conciliation or relief in her brother’s face. She found none of it.

“A few more years, and then what, Maera?” he inquired, “I will marry Laena, inherit Highgarden, and bring her here with me. Then, what of you? Who shall you marry?”

Maera’s neck felt hot and damp, “Myles, what do you want me to do?” she took a step closer to her brother, “I cannot change anything here. The Prince desires to not marry me, but he knows that my being in court will benefit me, us. What do you wish I had done?”

Myles looked around, his lip curled downward in disgruntled conflict, “You’re a beautiful woman, Maera. And the Prince is known for being… bawdy and lascivious.”

Maera felt her eyes sting with angry tears, “So you wish I had stripped down before him and let him have his way with me in the library?”

“You mustn’t word it this way.” Myles could not bring himself to look her in the eye.

“Oh, but you must mean so.” She spat bitterly, “I had really expected you to be happy about this, for I was. How foolish it was of me to think that you could possibly put your own happiness over that of the House, how foolish of me it was to expect such valiance from you.”

Myles looked behind her, as the sun made its way beneath the clouds. Streaks of its shine bled through the clouds, and he wondered how opportune a situation it would have been to alleviate the tensions hadn’t they been so grave. Before Myles could bring himself to say anything at all, Maera exited the garden in anger. Her hands were closed in tight fists as she finally let her tears through, her teeth grinding and her shoulders tense. Her chest heaved as she breathed through the cold wind that had begun to replace the unbearable heat of the noon, her arms cold and her sweat dry and sticky. She walked on and did not look back at her brother, despite knowing that he was following behind wordlessly, hoping that she would look back and find his unfailingly apologetic, remorseful face. He knew it could break her, and so did she.

Daemon watched from the balcony as she quickened her pace from a jog to a run, escaping her brother’s hope of a quick reconciliation.

[allthemusic]

Week ending: 15th October

What's this, some Panic! at the Disco? (Spoilers: It's not, but the title did give me pause for a moment, and then made me want a Frank Sinatra version of the Panic! at the Disco song. Somebody who's a good impersonator get on that!)

High Hopes - Frank Sinatra (peaked at Number 6)

Hmmm. This song seems to start with a children's choir, which is very rarely a good thing, in my book. There's something a bit musical theatre about the orchestration and arrangement of it all, which maybe rescues it, though - a children's chorus as part of a musical is maybe the least objectionable form of children singing, as far as I'm concerned. Still, it's not a beginning that fills me with hope, especially with the "after school special" nature of the opening lyrics, as the kids suggest that next time you're found / With your chin on the ground / There's a lot to be learned / So look around. Ugh. Glurgey stuff.

Thankfully, we get Frank pretty soon after that to lend some gravitas to the whole thing. Not much gravitas, mind you - it's a very silly kids song, fundamentally, with a verse about an ant trying to move a rubber tree plan, and then a verse about a ram trying to breach a dam. Both the ant and the ram succeed through sheer bloody-mindedness, I guess - which is meant to teach us a lesson about perseverance, I think. Except both of those behavious are pretty weird ones to pick as your inspirational examples - do we really want our kids looking up to rams trying to destroy dams? It's not a behaviour I'd want to be encouraging, but there you have it. They're also just really weird examples - are ants known for bringing down trees? And do rams frequently butt a hole through solid concrete? If so, this should definitely be more common knowledge. But if not, it does make the song feel kind of dishonest - you can't sell kids on the power of perseverance and then use fake, impossible examples!

I'm also annoyed (if you can't tell) by the ending, which suddenly veers off rather unnecessarily from the "animal causing destruction" patter to compare your problems to toy balloons, a metaphor that just feels deeply unintuitive to me. Plus, the songwriter then makes the distinctly upsetting choice to make the sound of the balloon being burst into a resounding kerplop. Which is both clearly not the sound a balloon bursting makes, and also quite an unpleasant word, on some level I don't much care to analyse. Makes me think of somebody pooping, and that's all I'll say about it. Nasty.

I have definitely soured on this song, the more I've listened. Even lines in the middle that I didn't mind the first time have started to annoy me. Take when the kids sing about how when troubles call / And your back's to the wall / There's a lot to be learned / That wall could fall. That's not a good line! When I'm in a tough spot, the last thing I want is a wall that my back is against falling down. Best case scenario, I topple over backwards. Worst case scenario, there's now a brick wall that's fallen on top of me. I can see what they're trying to do, metaphorically, but it just doesn't work - it's a little detail, but it really does irritate me.

The whole song is annoying. It was from a Frank Capra film, A Hole in the Head, which was about a man called Tony Manetta, who moves to Miami and is financially irresponsible. He also is a widowed father, except he gets into such dire financial straits that his more responsible brother Mario has to come and sort him out, and tries to take his kid off him. There's shenanigans where Tony pretends to be rich to con people into giving him money to build a second Disneyland - the original having been built in 1955, so this was a pretty topical thing! - except it falls through and the ending basically involves him telling his son that he's unwanted (?) and sending him away to live with the brother in New York. Tony then slopes off to the beach, except his son comes back to him, and the brother decides they all just need a holiday, and that that will fix everything. I kid you not, by the look of things, that's the entire ending to the whole thing. Frank Capra's a director of some renown, so I'll give him the benefit of the doubt and suggest that it might make more sense / be more entertaining in context?

Either way, this song seems to be the element of the film that made the most impact, to the point where John F Kennedy used the song a year later as the main theme song for his 1960 presidential campaign, which he won, with a narrow margin. And you can kind of see the appeal - there's a scrappy, determined optimism to it that's kind of irresistible, politically, and that absolutely lines up with what JFK was trying to present himself as, as this new, fresh, young candidate, a clean start for America after the messes of the 1950s. In that respect, it's a good choice, albeit one that I just know would have annoyed me almost immediately.

I didn't expect to be mentioning JFK so soon in this blog. I know we're technically almost in the 1960s, but it still snuck up on me. Shame it's with this stinker of a song, but hey, there you go. Frank's definitely made better stuff, but I guess this served a purpose, and people clearly did like (and buy) it, so I can't be too mad. (Panic! at the Disco still did it better, though).

Favourite song of the irritating but good-enough-for-JFK bunch: High Hopes

[casspurrjoybell-27]

In a Heartbeat - Chapter 25 - Part 2

*Warning Adult Content*

Simon

"He's gone. All because of your stupid lies."

"Huh?"

"You go on and on about love and mates and how amazing it is," he went on.

"When I told you he needed to know the truth. He's going to get hurt, Simon. He's sixteen. I tried warning him but he's so fucking hellbent on finding his damn mate."

"It could be different for him," I said quietly.

"You know that."

He shook his head.

"No. He needed to know the risks. He's still a kid, Simon. I don't want him to get hurt like you did. What if he gets killed?" his voice broke in the end, the tears welling in his eyes.

I hugged him this time.

No wonder he was getting all antsy.

Cedar was his brother, of course he'd be terrified and the fact that I had practically fallen off the face of the earth for a month on top of it was probably stressing him out more than anything.

"We'll find him, Aspen. He'll be alright," I told him, hoping it'd be true.

"Besides, you have Sarah. It's proof that mates can be amazing, right?"

He scoffed, wiping the remaining tears away before looking at me.

"I'm sorry I was an ass in there."

"You were," I joked.

"My waffles are probably cold, now."

He laughed, probably the first time he has since Cedar and I disappeared.

"I owe you, then."

"They're probably worried about us."

He nodded, before we walked back to our table, awkwardly sitting in silence as they both glanced at us.

********

Aspen looked at Sam first.

"I apologize, I've been stressed out and took it out on you."

Sarah rolled her eyes, lightly punching his arm.

"Yeah. You were a bit of a jerk, hun."

Sam took it in, before letting out a curt laugh, surprising us all.

"Oh, no worries. I totally get it. Working long hours sometimes gets to me too, especially if I can't save one of my patients. My coworkers sometimes face the brunt of my frustrations too."

Aspen seemed shocked at Sam's forgiveness.

"Still, it's no excuse."

Sam smiled, before looking at me, motioning towards the waffles I had barely touched.

I started to eat, finding it still warm, the whipped cream the only thing that melted.

The strawberry shake was divine, even if it had melted a bit.

'Two pack members were looking for you at the motel,' Aspen told me.

'Sarah said they were pack Betas.'

Xavier and Lucas probably.

'I don't like that they know where we live,' he continued.

'I don't know why and what they want but I don't like it. I know,' I replied.

'As much as I want you to come home, where I know you're safe with me, maybe it's best you stay with Sam. His clinic is well hidden from the pack and if Michael is still a threat, there's a chance he won't suspect you're at a clinic either.'

I gulped down some more of the shake before replying...

'But we need to find Cedar.'

'We will but I can't lose you too. Not again. Sarah and I can search for him.'

'Are you sure?'

Aspen smiled at me, glancing over at Sam who was struggling to finish the last bit of his waffles.

'I'm sorry I misjudged him,' Aspen mind linked me.

'He's good for you.'

I nearly dropped my fork.

'It's not like that,' I mind linked back, frowning at him.

He smirked before picking up some of the strawberries from my plate.

********

On our ride back to the clinic, I told Sam about Aspen and how we had initially met.

"I'm sorry he's a bit overbearing," I told him.

He smiled.

"It's a good thing, trust me. He's just looking out for you."

"He's a bit extreme."

"Maybe a tad."

We pulled out onto the main road, the rows of trees on the right side were soothing to look at.

I was zoning out when Sam spoke again.

"May I ask a question?"

"Of course."

"Sarah. She's Aspen's mate?"

"Yeah," I told him and he hummed.

He seemed to contemplate asking something, opening and closing his mouth before saying...

"And this Vince guy? Why doesn't Aspen like him?"

I looked towards the trees again, not sure if I should tell him.

I took a few breaths before replying...

"Sarah was with Vince."

It was a cop-out answer but it was true.

He hummed some more before saying...

"I talked to her when you two went outside."

"Oh?"

"She was the Luna of your old pack," he stated.

"Which makes Vince the Alpha."

I chewed at my lip, not wanting to voice or confirm the deduction.

A part of me wished he didn't have to know.

"Sarah," he continued.

"She feels guilty about it."

"What?"

"She told me the gist of what happened to you. She didn't know about any of it. He had kept it from her, practically forcing her into the role. She feels guilty that she couldn't do anything, that she didn't know anything for so long," he replied.

I couldn't meet his eyes, fearing what he would think now that he knew about it.

I didn't want to see his probing eyes, the questions he had running through his head.

I sighed.

"She shouldn't feel bad. How could she have known?"

"Regardless, she wanted you to know she's sorry and I'm sorry you had to go through that."

Aside from the sound of cars zooming past us, we remained silent.

I wasn't sure what to feel.

Sarah didn't need to apologize, none of it had been her fault after all but yet she had felt guilty and in a way, I felt guilty that she felt guilty.

It was a stupid feeling but I didn't want her to feel bad.

I should be the one apologizing to her, after all because of the whole situation, she didn't get to feel the bond with Aspen.

She fell in love with someone who she thought was her mate but it was a relief to see her at the diner.

A part of me feared that she would hate me, loathe me for ruining everything for her but to see her there, almost happy to see me was pleasantly unexpected.

For years I thought she'd hate me, loathe me the same way Vince does.

Loathe me as soon as she found out about her true mate but knowing she cared made me wonder.

Maybe the rest of the pack didn't care too much either about what had happened.

Maybe the friends I had back then still cared for me or at least didn't loathe me for what Vince accused my family of.

Xavier did mention that not everyone believed my family committed treason, some had even found out the truth.

Maybe the rumors the rogue spread were just that, rumors.

Maybe the pack hadn't turned out as bad as they made it seem.

It made me wonder about what Michael had offered the first time we met.

Going back home, was it really as implausible as I first thought?

[destineeallison]

In honor of my today being my brothers 47th birthday I've re-written a poem, based on what I wrote about his passing in 2015. You can find the original material this is based on further down the rabbit-hole of my tumblr.

I was the only one not going,

Weve seen this before, I assumed it was another scare

But it was real, I was the only sister that couldnt be there

I hope you know I love you

Two days before a milestone but that doesnt matter

Id rather have my brother back,

Losing you is when my world shattered.

I tried to numb my former pain with drugs

The day that pain caught up with me started like any other one

It was December 8th, and I was standing at work assuming the best, didnt even question the worst

I answer the call and once I heard the news, couldnt breath or move at all

The tears didnt come but I lost all functions.

Drove hours alone to stay with our aunts and cousins

Couldnt tell you how I finally got there

I guess youre in a better place but I dont know where.

Im sorry Frank but the pain I feel the most,

isn't even that youre gone

Im struggling with the pain,

that your death left with our mom

She said shes feeling empty, and misses you so much.

Her first born son, she thought she'd watch fully grow up.

Death takes a toll and it's collecting on our mother

Now 70 years old, outliving her mother, son, and youngest brother

Look what became of us,

siblings that never speak

holding on to grudges

because of unimportant things 

I'm sorry I wasnt there when you needed someone most.

I want to fight myself daily, knowing you lost hope.

Over the years, as we may have grown apart,

our siblings grow old with each time the sky gets dark.

Going forward to our siblings, i let go of anger I've felt,

we need eachother, were still kids, avoiding life's belt.

I felt I couldn't cry till I saw your children walk in the chapel,

I weeped as they bared witness to the tree fallen that once held the apple.

As the tears also streamed down the face of our mother,

I noticed laying in that casket was not the man I know as my brother.

Although we laid you to rest,

our family has done their best to say goodbye.

One last time, please know you'll never be forgotten...

I love you, rest in peace Frank... if it's real, I'll see you in the next life.

[niinra]

Protocol One. The Prophet and the Voices

Authors Note: That i would be posting again is something i didnt think was possible haha no but for real i recently started writing again and i missed it. not me acting like i ever wrote much to begin with..

Warnings...like 2 mentions of dying and its probably a bit confusing to read but good luck!

Word count: 932

All things life gives are fake, it wants to fool you like it did with the rest of us. If I told you the same things it whispers in your ears you would call me a lunatic. That the way of things it always was the most believable. But believe me when I tell you it just wants you to lower your guard and lower your guard you will. All it needs to do is wait and then at that one little vulnerable moment, that's when life strikes. Believe me when I say explore and enjoy this false paradise while you can because the things after are nothing you ever wanted to know even existed…

That was what I got told over and over again by the voices in the skyes. As I walk through the world I take my time to look at everything. A little river? I cooled my feet in it. A field of flowers? I braided a flower crown. But the more I look the more the voices grow, at first it was one, then two and then three. Right now there are around eight of them, with each voice I found one. One anomaly which doesn't belong here. Wires in a tree…glitching in the water..and the most recent clear liquid from an abrasion on my knee.

“Yes..go that way!” “No the other way is the right one” “Right or wrong is of no meaning” “kill yourself!” “don't listen to her, my Prophet! She is just jealous!”

And so on and so on. The seemingly endless forest is not as endless as I hoped. I have come by the same waterfall at least 15 times over the length of my journey. I have no recollection of anything besides one meaningless sentence. “You are the Prophet. Act like it and you will have your way made for you, back to where you belong, in our mothers embrace. The Mother of Life. The mother of despair.”

I step over a fallen over tree, feeling watched. i'm always being watched, i cant see them but i know they are there and they watch close. each breath i take is monitored, each blink is counted. I know that because there is a distinct *click* that can be heard everytime i blink. 

“Prophet continue!” “Why did you stop?” "Go! you have to go!” “this is not right, this is not how it was foretold!” “If you won't do something, just die!” “Sister. calm yourself, you are still speaking to our chosen.” “the chosen can die for all i care, *i* should have been in her place!”

And just like that the arguing starts once more. it's always between voice 4 and 2. As a matter of fact those two are the once that speak the most. Number one which guided me the first week of my seemingly not new existence has gone mute. i sit down in a shallow part of a lake, staring up at the sky and the let the *rain* drench me. The liquid form the skies is red, sticky and warm. It reeks of iron like the rest of the *water*. 

“...quiet..watch..the prophet is cleansing herself..” “cleansing…yes yes!” “like she should! everything around her is unworthy!” my eyes move to my right and they lock on a terrified being. It stares at me, its limbs tremble in fear. I slowly stand up and walk over to it.

“My Prophet?” “*our* "Prophet.." “y-yes she found something?” “..’gasp’ its one of them..” “them?” “ a ‘heretic brother” “what will she do?” “i don't know” 

The thing moves back the closer i come to it. “Why are you fleeing?” i ask it in a low voice which apparently make it only worse. The Rain runs down my body and I leave red footsteps behind. I lift my arm and stretch my hand out towards the it. “Why are you so mean? I am trying to help and guide you!” I hiss at the thing as it cowers away from me. “LEAVE ME ALONE! YOU MONSTER!” the thing screams at me. “Monster? I am not a monster..i am your Prophet..your savoir!” I argue back as I speed up my steps to get closer to it. “P-Prophet? No! My Prophet is in out church! You are a Martyr!” “i am not! Who do you think you are? You are nothing! You hear me? NOTHING compared to me!” I counter annoyed as I grab the face of the thing. “Yes our Prophet! Tell him!” “yes he knows nothing!” “His prophet is a false one!” “its a imitation of you!” “they cherish and their believe in you is so strong they needed someone to be a place holder” “but the place holder seemed to have forgotten where they belong.” “show him the truth!” “yes!” “no she shouldn't!” “yes she should do it!”

I force the mouth of the thing open and let the rain drop in it from my fingers. “Sallow the sacred water. Sallow it and become my follower once again! Take your place on the right side of things..:” I watch the things eyes roll into the back of their head before they come back forth. The green they held before having darkened to a deep red. Letting it go I take a few steps back and unsurprisingly this time it follows me instead of backing away. It seems borderline desperate now to be in my presence.

“Yes!” “The first was converted back to the true!” “Our Prophet has started the revolution!” “The age of the Prophet has come.”

[vgoddess11]

The problem is we all must be saved that means not a single one of our brothers and sisters can be left behind and that is because back home on the other side we are all one, even if one soul remains lost………..Then we are lost, at present just like back before the fall, we are victims of are greatest gift are own free will.

At the first dawn the world was not like it is now it was ethereal, thought would mould form and form would mould thought there was no solid matter we created reality at will in order to test out different reality structures and learn desired lessons from them. But we always new where are true home was and who we were and the love from and for our creater and each other powered it all.

Then one day we all decided that would our learning and spiritual growth not evolve so much faster if we for a short time forgot where we came from forgot our creater and who we are then learn from that reality construct.

God tried to warn us against it he tried to tell us it was a big mistake but we thought we knew better we thought we were right and more knowlegable than we were we bit that forbidden apple from that tree and we took our free will and made it happen.

Its called the fall because the consequence of us forgetting who we were and where we came from that we thought would be temporary but were warned against resulted in an amnesia that has lasted millions of years and resulted in the world of hard hard matter around us that we have become trapped in. Every soul who partook in that disastrous thought construct experiment became lost and the longer we lived in the after effects of the fall the further from grace we become.

The effects of this fall from grace for the fallen angels, that powerful the amnesia it has resulted in has meant that even when we die and go back home we still dont believe there is so much more back in that etheral realm and we choose reincarnation over and over and over. We have become literally addicted to materialism and life locked in physical form are remaining brothers and sisters desperately try to reach us threw the restoration process after we pass over but most the time it is in vain and those who are reached choose reincarnation to try help those in the physical wake up out the dream or should i say nightmare

And now the love from our creator and between ourselves, im talking pure love of bygone days that powered this whole matrix……..

Is running out because for so long we have been taking from the energy field and not giving back and my friends there is not long left.

Those fallen angels from so so long ago who fell from grace through a decision that went terribly terribly wrong and trapped us in solid matter.

IS YOU….. IS ME……..IS US ALL.

Love to you all my brothers and sisters my family.

[newtonsheffield]

Ok I’ll bite and you also got me curious

How’s Mary relationship with her brother now?

So…

How are David and Mary’s relationship?

Look, It's not great. It's certainly not what it once was.

Mary could still remember the day David graduated from the naval Academy. She'd stood at the entrance for a long while, just fifteen, staring up at the grand front of it, her father's hand on her shoulder.

"Come on, chick, we need to find our seats."

Her father had been proud of David, who'd stood winking at them as he was presented. Not Davey Sheffield anymore. Not Davey who'd been her best friend. Who'd hooted happily when she learned to ride a bike, when when she'd skinned her knee climbing a tree, not Davey who'd punched Roger Nellis in the stomach for trying to flip up her skirt.

This was Second Lieutenant David Sheffield now. And Mary could see that while her father was proud to have his son follow in his footsteps, while her Mother was proud, while Rule Britannia thundered around them, her mother was as terrified as she was.

And she watched as David got deployed, watched her mother freeze every time there was a knock at the door that she wasn't expecting, or the phone rang at an odd hour. She watched her mother kneel by the bed and pray and pray that David would be fine.

And he was. He always seemed to escape, though once he'd slipped on deck and broken his arm much to his embarrassment. He'd burst through the door of the house they'd grown up in, where they'd stayed up past when they were supposed to a snuck back downstairs to watch TV with a blanket over it, laughing and smiling and making jokes, he was still her favourite person. Still the older brother she remembered.

So much so that the very first person she'd called when a little girl had propositioned her in the supermarket and she'd fallen a little in love with her and her father at first sight and been David.

"Hey Davey. I went on a date today. A fourth date, actually."

David had cackled, "Please tell me Mum didn't finally wear you down to the point you went out with Nigel Cavendish?"

"Christ-No. His name's Tom Sharma, and I met him at ASDA, his daughter was sneaking sweets into the basket."

"His daughter? Mary if he's married-"

"He's a widower, his wife died soon after she was born. Her name's Katie." Mary had hummed, smiling to herself as she thought about the tiny girl who'd scrambled onto her lap this afternoon, legs swinging as she coloured in a picture of a dog, very haphazardly, chattering away about how she thought she might get to have some ice cream after dinner tonight. And the thing that had settled in Mary's chest the first time she'd ever seen the Sharma's grew a little more.

"okay so... This is going well? You're dating a man who has a little girl and you're happy about this. You love kids, this isn't a spiral right?"

"I- yeah. I... I don't know, it's going great and I, yeah I like Tom, and I like Katie. They're beautiful."

"Let me know when I can intimidate him then."

And it was barely even six months later when she sat with an engagement ring burning into her hand, watching Katie sit on her Mother's lap, her mother laughing delightedly as Katie slyly asked if maybe they could get her a goldfish for her birthday, Tom groaning sheepishly beside her when David nudged her as he sat on the sofa beside her.

"Your daughter's pretty fucking great."

"My-?" Because she felt it, right to the core of her, that Katie was her child, but part of her had expected to have to claw and fight to be seen that way.

David looked bewildered, gesturing at the tiny girl, "Katie? The adorable little thing with angel curls who clings to you? She's your daughter right?"

And Mary hadn't been able to keep the smile off her face when she said, "Yeah, she's my daughter."

She was proud, really, of how her family took to Katie. How her mother held her hand gently as they made their way around stores, how when they'd meet her friends she'd kneel down and say and have you met my Granddaughter Katie before? How her father would sit with katie on his knee while he read his newspaper and David would burst into the house and wink slyly at Katie before he'd say How about, little Kat, you take your Uncle Davey to the cinema hey? Mum's busy with the little Ducky but I want to go and see A Bug's Life, and I need someone to keep me company. And because of that, because of how much they loved her, Mary never thought he'd do this.

She never thought she'd have to stand in her kitchen while her brother, the person she'd been closest to in the entire world held the uniform he'd helped her daughter buy.

"David."

"Mary, I know you're probably really upset with me but-"

She couldn't even look at him, just stared out the kitchen window. "You can leave the uniform in the hall and get out."

He didn't move, just stared at her, his fingers tightening around the garment bag. "Mary, I'm in the military, Dad was as well. It's not a death sentence she's just-"

“She’s my child David! My Child. How dare you?!” She spat it at him, her hands clenched on the side of the table. Angry tears welling in her eyes at the injustice he couldn't even see. How Edwina had crawled into her bed last night and sobbed until she'd exhausted herself.

“She asked me to Mary. Katie came to me about this. She was going to enlist, at least this way she’ll have more authority, She’ll be better trained, more useful, safer.”

“She’s traumatised. Her father just died- She can’t-“

“She’s an adult Mary. She’s the same age I was when I went into the Navy.”

“If she dies, or gets hurt David, it’s on you. I’ll never forgive you for this!” Even as she said it, she'd hoped it would never come to that. But of course it had.

She'd called him, still sobbing from Sophie's voice on the phone, Anger and terror clawing at her, Sophie's mind replaying in her head Mary, I'm so so sorry. She's- I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry

"Mary is everything-?"

"Kate's been injured." Her chest heaved as she sunk to the floor in the kitchen, the cold tile the only thing keeping her present while her chest felt like it had been ripped open again. "She got shot down. She lay in the water for hours, dying before they could go back for her."

The silence was deafening, and but for David's breathing in the other end, but for the shuddered breath he took when he told his wife Katie's been shot down she would have thought he wasn't there.

"My child nearly died becasue of you! She might still die!" She was nearly hysterical, Edwina's sobs still echoing through the house. "They won't even tell me where she is."

"Mary, please I love Katie too. She's your daughter, she's my niece. I love her, and I'm sorry this happened."

"FIX IT!"

His voice broke, "I can't Mary. I'm sorry, I can't. I'm so sorry."

"You're a fucking Rear Admiral, David! You outrank nearly everyone in the fucking air force!" She knew it wasn't fair, knew how stubborn Kate could be, but it was so much easier to blame him. David who would take the abuse she hurled at him. "If you've ever cared about me, just bring my baby home!"

"I'm so sorry, Mary."

"This is your fault. This is your fault. This is your fault." She whispered it again and again until she fell asleep, and David never said a word, but she knew he was there.

Mary was numb, weeks later as she watched her daughter get unloaded on a stretcher in an airbase. Watched her weak smile as she woke from sedation, slowly being plugged into monitors but the look in her eyes was different. So much so that Mary was barely paying attention when Group Captain Haverford said,

"Rear Admiral Sheffield mentioned that you might want to-"

"Rear Admiral Sheffield?" Her body had gone cold, her attention snatched back from Kate. "What's he got to do with any of this?"

Group Captain Haverford looked a little perplexed. "He- intervened. Protocol really demands that Flight Lieutenant Sharma recuperate in a military hospital in Germany, these things are standard, but he demanded she be brought back to England. Caused quite a fuss actually, the higher ups are a little put out. I believe she's his niece? He was quite wild about you being kept away, Ma'am."

Mary felt her throat closing over, tears pricking at her eyes as she nodded.

And that night when she drove to David's house, and pushed past his wife to wrap her arms tightly around her brother for the first time since they'd laid her husband to rest. She finally felt at peace.