#need a new battery in a size I’ve never seen before as well as some film which I’ve never used before

[queen-vv]

In other news while sorting through stuff in an old chest of drawers I found my mum’s really old camera so I might try getting into film photography

I’ve only done a bit of photography that I’ve been happy with, but this should be interesting too

It’s an old Pentacon Praktica BC3, if anyone was wondering too :p

[kinetic-elaboration]

September 10: Scream VI Pt. 1

[This is from 2 days go because my power went out Sunday night.]

Writing this in the dark because my power is out. My power almost never goes out here, which tells me how bad this storm is. It should be done by tomorrow morning, though, which I guess is good.

I was watching Scream VI and I only have about 10 minutes left, but that’s not going to be possible without power or wifi, so I’ll have to finish tomorrow. A few thoughts on what I did see (very few since my computer battery sucks and I don’t know how long I have to write here):

It’s definitely better than Scream V. Too long—I really don’t think any slasher needs to clock more than an hour 45 minutes—but consistently entertaining with very good set pieces and a strong set of new characters.  This is probably the only scream movies I’ve seen that legitimately scared me in parts. And it actually managed to get real humor in there, which, as I’ve mentioned, I think many of the installments struggle with. I think moving to NYC was a smart move, not dissimilar to moving Halloween H20 to California: the core franchise elements stand out more when you see them still working in a different environment.

My favorite scenes were the attack in the apartment—even though I was said to think I was seeing Quinn go, because I liked her a lot, and the death of Mindy’s girlfriend was pretty upsetting, more sad than scary at the end—and the scenes on the subway. The apartment attack was well put together, had a great mix of comedy—and comedy from something other than meta, but from the juxtaposition of the group camaraderie and the scariness of Ghostface—and horror, and was, as I said, actually truly scary to me. I’m afraid of heights so watching them have to cross a ladder to safety over a tall drop was very, very nail-biting stuff. Similarly, the subway scene made such good use of the new setting. Being stuck in a subway car with absolutely no way out between stops is very unnerving, and the number of people can be blessing or curse very easily. All the different horror franchise homages in the background costumes was Scream at its best: meta and spooky at once.

This film rectified one of my biggest issues with Scream V, which is that it should have just been a reboot and its original characters really just dragged the story down. It tried to be too many things at once, and it didn’t trust its new cast enough to let them shine. But the thing is that they are a good cast! They are good characters! I am invested in the “Core Four” and their new little friends filled in the suspect/victim seats well. This film didn’t need Sydney, and Gayle’s role was fine and a good size. I’m still mad that they killed Dewey, but at least without him, Gayle is freed up to be more nefarious. Still, she didn’t do that much in this, ultimately. It was a glorified cameo but she got some good lines and good moments, and I’m fine with that. Same with Kirby: I really liked that they brought her back, connecting the original trilogy with the Scream IV bridge, and the new trilogy. Small scenes like her and Mindy talking about scary movies made the film… warm, something I could feel affection towards. And I think for the most part, the movie understood that. Not actually killing off either of the twins, for example (I looked up spoilers), or Gayle, not actually having Kirby be the killer: these were feel-good choices, about crafting a franchise you want to come back to because you want to be with the characters again, not because you want to see the next big twist. It makes me feel hopeful for Scream VII.

The twins really came into their own in this movie. I liked the Chad/Tara romance and Mindy I thought hit a better, more consistent footing than in the previous film, where I wanted to like her more than I did.

I’m glad I took a break before watching this but I’m also glad I saw it. It left a much better taste than Scream V. I would say my rankings are Scream (1996), Scream IV, Scream VI, Screams 2 and 3 (I feel like they’re roughly equal) and Scream V.

Okay, my computer is at 55% which means it will fade FAST. Gotta save everything and power down. I’ve never lost power for this long before so I’m a tad worried but I guess it won’t matter if I’m asleep—which I should be anyway.

[handsomelyhiddleston]

Stormy Sleepover - Tom Hiddleston x Reader

I haven’t written in like, years. I previously wrote for Colby Brock at @colbybrocksmolder and someone asked me to write for Tom so I figured I’d give it a shot. 

I hope you enjoy! 

_________________________

“Did you hear there was a storm coming?” one of your PA’s, Andi, asked you. You were in charge of making sure the cast all had assistants and that their life on set ran smoothly. You’d been working with these guys since the very first Thor movie.

“I got a notification on my phone a few hours ago, but this building is so big I doubt we’d know if it had actually hit yet.” You pulled up your weather app and clicked on the “!” checking to see what the ��alert” was. “Oh god” you said, shocked to read that most of the county was already out of power.

“I told you, call me Chris.” Behind you, Hemsworth was chuckling leaning over to read what you were looking at on your phone.

“Ha, ha.” You laughed at his cheesy joke. “But seriously, has anyone been outside in the last few hours?”

Looking at your phone, Hemsworth shrugged and headed towards one of the truck bays.

In front of you, you watched Evans and Tom training with each other. There were various scenes in this movie involving water and a big thing the trainers had been working with them on was safely landing in water. It sounds funny, but you can break bones or knock yourself unconscious if you land wrong.

“Bad news” Hemsworth yelled out, getting everyone’s attention. “This building has been running on generators. There’s no power in the whole lot.” He dramatically shook his arms, flinging rain water on you and Andi.

“No wonder this water has gotten so cold” Evans added, shivering. “It’s usually warmed, but It’s ice right now.”

You sent a text to the director who was in a meeting with the writers. You received a text back fairly quickly. “Let everyone know we’ve got 6 more rooms at the Hyatt Hotel a few towns over for those who don’t have trailers on the lot. Tell everyone else that it looks like the power won’t be fixed until tomorrow afternoon. There’s a whole line of downed power lines that they can’t get to until the storm stops. The generators only run lights and a few outlets and it looks like they’re going to die soon too. The 16 seater van is outside with a driver to take people to the hotel.”

“Looks like we’re done for the day.” You said mostly to yourself, with Hemsworth and Andi hearing you.

“Everybody in.” Hemsworth hollered out so you wouldn’t have to yell.

“Thanks.” You shot him a smile.

“Any time” he replied, flinging his long wet hair towards you.

“I take it back.” You laughed, moving to stand on your chair.

“I know that not everyone has a trailer in the lot yet as we haven’t actually started filming, so for anyone that doesn’t have a home here there’s a van outside that will take to you the hotel that has power nearby. It’s already super chilly in here, so I imagine it’s freezing outside.” You spoke so everyone could hear you.

“Can confirm.” Hemsworth said, starting to shiver a bit.

“There’s umbrellas near the catering tables and there’s a bunch of old hoodies and jackets in the extras costume bay. Make sure you’re warm and dry before you head to the van.”

Everyone that didn’t have a trailer on set left once they had their instructions.

“As for the rest of us, we have to hunker down in our trailers until this passes. I have solar power and full solar batteries on my trailer so all of you are more than welcome to come crash with me if your trailer is too cold or you need electricity for anything.”

You, Hemsworth, Evans, Tom, and Scarlett were the only ones on set that had trailers so far.

“It can’t be THAT cold” Evans joked, grabbing his bag and heading towards the door.

“Scarlett went to her trailer a few hours ago” Tom shared. “I only got here last night so I don’t even have my trailer set up. Are you sure you’re okay if I go grab my bag and come steal some of your space?”

“Absolutely” you smiled at him. “And if I know Scarlett, she’s already in my trailer. I don’t think her trailer was even hooked up to power yet. Her’s was the newest one on the lot.”

“Thank you, darling. I’ll go grab my bag and check Scarlett’s trailer on my way to yours.” Tom replied and then jogged towards the door.

Andi left to catch the van once you passed your notes from the day on to her. “Be safe. Don’t worry about making it back tomorrow. I will email you any further updates I have for assignments.”

“I’m going to head back to my trailer and see if I have any cell services.” Hemsworth shared after everyone else had started leaving. “I know my wife probably has all of the weather and accident alerts on for the whole county and she’s probably worried.”

“Be safe.” You said, taking his offered hand so you could step off of your chair safely. “I’ll grab the satellite phone in the emergency kit and take it to my trailer just in case we need it.”

“It looks like you may have a full house tonight.” Hemsworth Joked.

“You’re welcome to join the insanity.” You teased, throwing your hoodie on and grabbing the satellite phone.

When you made it to your trailer, you were pretty soaked. Even with the umbrella, the rain was insane.

“Thank God you didn’t leave.” Scarlett startled you.

“I knew you’d already be in here.” You laughed. “Tom is on his way. His trailer is like yours. We didn’t even get a chance to get them hooked up before this crazy storm hit.”

“Oooo Lover boy is coming.” She teased.

“Oh, shut it. We’re friends, Scar. That’s it. We’ve never been more than friends.” You started stripping out of your wet clothes and slipped on a pair of soft black sweatpants and your favorite hoodie. It was dark green with “Mischief” written across the front. There were gold horns painted on the hood.

“I’ve known your friend almost as long as you have and the way he looks at you…I’m just saying. I think there’s something there.” She teased, gathering your wet clothes and putting them in a laundry bin that was tucked under one of the beds.

You both turned to the door hearing what sounded like a woman screaming bloody murder. “Let me in” Evans yelled, banging on the door.

Scarlett opened the door while you grabbed a towel. She laughed at him, seeing him drenched head to toe. “It was unlocked, tough guy.”

“You hit an octave I don’t think I can even reach, Cap” you teased, throwing him the towel and going back into your PJ drawer for an oversized t shirt and a baggy pair of sweats.

“I was wrong. I was so wrong. It’s fucking freezing in my trailer and I didn’t realize that the water would be cold because the power has been out for so long.” Evan’s teeth were chattering as he stripped out of his clothes, trying to dry off.

“I think I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve seen you naked, Evans.” Scarlett laughed, handing him the clothes you picked out for him.

“Thank god you aren’t seeing the front. It’s so cold I think my manhood has retreated fully into my body” Evans replied, throwing the clothes on and drying his hair with the towel.

Both of you laughed. You started brewing a pot of coffee and turned your water kettle on for tea. “Well, Scarlett already claimed the couch.” You mentioned. “Why don’t you take the regular bed so that if Hemsworth joins, you two can bunk together. It’s queen size so it should fit you both comfortably.”

Evans crawled into bed, wrapping himself in the blankets and trying to warm up. “Where will you sleep?”

“The dining room table and benches turn into a bed.” You replied. “It’s a full size, so almost as big as the one you’re in.”

“Did you hear that?” Evans perked up, trying to look out the tiny window he could still see through from the bed.

You and Scarlett quieted down. Getting louder you could hear Hemsworth yelling “NO, I AM THE GOD OF THUNDER!” every time lighting would strike and the sky would boom.

“Looks like it’s going to be a full house tonight.” Scarlett laughed, opening the door. “Get your godly ass in here, you crazy Australian.”

“He’s clearly the superior Chris” Evans joked. “Are you fucking crazy?” he asked as Hemsworth stepped into the trailer.

“Possibly. Probably.” Hemsworth laughed, trying not to get water all over the floor.

Scarlett grabbed the towel Evans had used to dry off and put it down on the floor by the door. “Here you go.”

“Much appreciated.” Hemsworth replied, dropping his duffle bag. “Can I change in your bathroom?”

“It’s all yours” you said. “Do you need clothes or did you bring some dry ones?”

“I brought some. I also brought some fun. I’ll show you after I get out of my sopping clothes.” He answered, leaving his shoes by the door and stepping into the bathroom.

When the bathroom door clicked, you heard a knock on the door. “Tom, come in” you hollered.

Tom was wearing a long poncho with an umbrella. He had a large bag with him and when he got inside he kicked his shoes off, putting them by Hemsworth’s shoes. You grabbed his bag from him, putting it by the second bed you had just finished setting up. He closed the umbrella and pulled his poncho off, his black sweatpants and black hoodie bone dry.

“You make the other two look like heathens.” Scarlett laughed. “They showed up soaking wet and screaming.”

“He is a gentleman.” You gave him a smirk, causing his cheeks to blush ever so slightly.

“Is there even room for all 5 of us?” he cleared his throat and laughed.

“Absolutely” you ushered him towards you. “Evans and Hemsworth are sharing that bed. Scarlett has the couch. I just set up the extra bed right here, for you.”

“For us” he replied with a stern look. “I know you too well, darling” he smirked. “You’re going to offer to sleep on the floor by the couch and I won’t have any of it.”

“Tom, it’s fine. I have a sleeping bag and…” You tried to ensure him you’d be okay, but he interrupted you.

“If you try to sleep on this floor I will walk back to my freezing trailer so you can have the bed to yourself.” The stern look softened as he pulled you into a tight hug. “You know you don’t always have to be the one to make the sacrifice. Plus, I promise I don’t talk in my sleep or have crazy dreams. I’ve even been told I’m quite comfy to cuddle with.” He dropped his eyes to yours, smirking.

“Oh, if I must.” You teased him, kissing his cheek as Hemsworth finally came out of the bathroom. “Scarlett knows where the laundry bin is.” You pointed him towards the hamper full of wet clothes.

“Do I smell coffee?” Evans sat up in bed, looking towards you. “Come cuddle, buddy” he laughed opening his arms for Hemsworth who let all of his body weight drop on Evans. “Jesus Christ, you’re a brick.”

You laughed, pulling down mugs from the cabinets and making everyone coffee. “Coffee or Tea, Tom?” you looked over at him. He was sitting on the edge of the bed you two would share.

“Tea, my sweet. But let me help you.” He stood and started grabbing sugars for everyone’s coffee, asking how many they normally added.

“There’s pasta in the crock-pot as well if anyone is hungry.” You announced.

“Food?” Hemsworth’s head shot up and he crawled off of Evans.

“God, men are so simple.” Scarlett laughed, grabbing the coffee you handed her.

“You are not wrong.” Evans added, asking if he could help with anything now that he wasn’t freezing to death.

“I think we’re good.” You replied, dishing up some pasta for Hemsworth and Evans and passing them off to the boys. “Scarlett?” you offered her food, as well.

“Actually, I’m craving something sweet.” She answered.

“I’ve prepared for this one” Tom answered, going to the large bag he brought with him. “It took me so long to get here because I walked to the catering room to grab some snacks. I’ve got a whole tub of cookie dough that probably needs to go in the refrigerator soon, a tub of sour sweets, and what looks like a large cherry pie.”

“Pass the cookie dough this way” Scarlett answered. “This man has his priorities straight”, she laughed.

After everyone had sat back on their beds, dug into their food, and warmed up with their coffee or tea, Hemsworth remembered his bag. “Since we are most likely going to be stuck in this trailer until tomorrow afternoon, I brought a different kind of treat.” He picked up his bag and started pulling out bottles of alcohol and putting them on the counter. “Anyone opposed?” he asked.

“What a G!” Evans laughed, crawling out of the bed to help Hemsworth make drinks. “What kind of mixers do you have, Y/n?”

“There’s some cans of soda, some energy drinks…there’s some juice…and then we’ve got coffee for that Bailey’s I see” you answered.

Tom was smirking next to you as the Chrises started making a make-shift bar out of what they had available to them.

“We’ve got to get this started with a bang” Hemsworth said, handing everyone two shots each. “The first one is to us having a great night reunited with our make-shift family.” He smiled at everyone and downed the first shot, everyone else following suit.

Evans spoke up after. “The second one goes to our incredible, gracious, and always prepared host. To Y/n!” He downed the second shot, everyone following his lead. Except for Tom.

You shivered as the second shot went down your throat and looked over at Tom who was still holding his full shot glass, sitting next to you on the bed. He had a small smile, giving you a look you couldn’t place. Quietly he spoke to you “I’d like to add a few things to his toast, but I think it may take a few more drinks to find the right words.” He downed the shot and took a sip of his tea to wash it down.

“Who wants what?” Evans asked, making everyone a strong drink.

For the first few drinks, everyone just talked and caught up. It had been a while since the group had been on a press run or a film set together.

“Y/n!” Evans spoke up.

“Yes, Cap?” you answered, starting to feel the alcohol course through you.

“Truth or Dare?” He smirked. His eyebrow raised like he was challenging you.

“Truth.” You answered, staring him down.

“Hmmm…Have you dated anyone working on any of these movies? Cast or crew?” He asked, finishing off his drink and standing to make another.

“I haven’t” you answered truthfully.

“Wait, let’s not do truth or dare, lets do truth or shot.” Scarlett suggested, wanting to get a few answers out of you and Tom.

“I like it.” Evans said, grabbing everyone’s shot glasses back and filling them so he could hand them out as needed.

“I answered, so I’m in the clear. Hemsworth has a higher alcohol tolerance than we do so I need him to catch up. Who is an actor in the MCU you hope you never have to work with again?” You asked, hearing Tom chuckle next to you.

“I can’t answer that!” he laughed, taking the shot Evans handed him.

“That’s the point.” You laughed.

He laughed, handing the empty shot glass back to Evans. “Fine, fine. Tom. In our last interview panel together, they kept asking you if you were seeing someone and you answered no. You then said that you were interested in someone, but that you hadn’t done anything about it. Who is she?”

“Oh no.” Tom laughed, feeling the alcohol a bit himself. “I think I need to take a shot. Are all of these going to be so hard?” He grabbed the shot that Evans passed off to him.

“I think you guys just need to not be pussies and answer the damn questions” Scarlett laughed, shooting you a look.

“Right?” Evans laughed, taking the empty shot glass from Tom.

Tom scooted a bit closer to you when he handed off his shot glass. “Okay, Evans. If you had to marry one of your on screen romantic co-stars, who would it be?”

“Oh, come on! It’s gotta be Scar Jo! The one and only.” Evans laughed, putting his hands over his heart and giving Scarlett a loving look. “We’ve been in movies together damn near my whole career.”

“We would annoy the hell out of each other.” Scarlett laughed.

“It’s true. We’re practically siblings. Okay, Y/n” Evans rubbed his hands together like he was plotting. “Favorite actor you’ve been able to work with ever.”

“Why do I feel like there’s a very specific question you want to ask, but instead you’re asking questions trying to fluster me?” you shot him a look, trying not to blush.

“Hey, I’m just playing the game.” Evans laughed, picking up a shot to let me know I didn’t have to answer.

“Keep your shot. I’ll answer this one. It’s definitely Mr. Mischief himself over here.” You pointed your thumb to your side at Tom, trying not to blush.

“No, there has to be someone cooler than me.” Tom blushed, hiding his glee by taking a sip of his tea.

You looked at him, summoning the strength of the drinks you’ve been throwing back. “You should give yourself more credit. You’re amazing.”

You stayed in the moment for a few seconds, just smiling at each other. “I think it’s your turn”, Tom said, putting his arm around your shoulders.

You blushed, realizing you had just been staring at him. Leaning into his side, you asked “Okay, Evans. Have you slept with any of your MCU co-stars?”

“Oh shit!” Scarlett laughed, standing up and handing Evans one of the shots.

“Yeah, yeah.” He laughed, downing the shot. “I’ll pick on someone else this time.” He filled up everyone’s drinks while thinking of his next question. “Okay, Scar. Who is the most attractive man in the current MCU?”

“Oooh, good question.” Scarlett thought about it, going through the movies outside of the Avengers. “I have a few different answers.”

“Explain.” Hemsworth replied.

“Well, There are a few people I find attractive for different reasons, I guess.” She answered.

“How about you share this list and we decide if you still need to drink for not picking one person?” You laughed.

“Well, Hemsworth is an amazing dad. Like, you look your happiest when you’re in the messiest, most chaotic situations with your kids. Most dads are the opposite. They’re trying to escape that.” Scarlett explained her first answer.

“Valid points made so far” Evans agreed, leaning against the counter.

“Hiddleston is the fucking epitome of a gentleman. You’re literally everything women want.” Scarlett turned towards tom, making him blush.

You quietly spoke “She’s not wrong” in Tom’s ear, feeling him pull you tighter to his side in response.

“You’re too kind”, Tom answered to her, downing the rest of his drink.  

Scarlett looked to Evans. “I think I have to go with…Idris Elba.”

“I want to be mad that I didn’t make your list, but that man is truly a god.” Evans responded.

The game started to wind down as it got later into the night. Seeing everyone kind of calm down and get settled, you walked around making sure everyone had what they needed.

“Anyone want water so you don’t wake up hungover?” you laughed, pulling some water out of the fridge.

“Here!” “Please!” you handed water bottles out to everyone.

“I’m not setting an alarm for the morning. It’s super late and I doubt anyone is going to be back on the lot before dinner time anyways.” You said, grabbing you and Tom each a water bottle before turning off the main light.

You turned on the small light above your bed so you could sort out your sleeping arrangements. You grabbed your toiletries bag and pulled out a make-up wipe, trying to clean your face since you didn’t really get to do your nightly routine.

“Can I use one of those?” Tom asked, realizing he hadn’t been able to wash his face either.

“Come here” you said, scooting against Tom so you could run the damp cloth over his face. He watched your gentle movements, feeling you run the cool cloth across his skin.

“Thank you” he said, kissing the back of your hand before scooting back in the bed and laying down.

You put your bag back and drank some of your water before crawling fully into the bed and turning off the light. “Are you good?” you asked, turning to face Tom in the dark. You could feel his hand reach out and settle on your arm.

“I am” he answered, running his hand down your arm, to rest on your hip. “I want to finish your toast” he whispered, scooting his pillow closer to yours. “What Evans said was true, but you’re so much more, y/n. You’re beautiful and incredibly intelligent and there is not a single person I look forward to seeing more than you.”

“I think you’re drunk” you replied, knowing that if the light was on your face would be bright red.

“I am” Tom chuckled. “I still stand by what I said.”

You reached forward and ran your hand up Tom’s chest until you felt your fingers graze the side of his face. “I’m going to have to thank Hemsworth for getting you tipsy” you laughed, teasing Tom. You scooted closer to him, feeling him wrap his arm around your back and hold you against him.

“I couldn’t have waited much longer to tell you anyways” Tom replied. “I was just nervous you didn’t feel the same. We’ve been such good friends for so long…”

You interrupted him, capturing his lips in a kiss. “I’ve wanted to do that for years” you said, connecting your lips in a second kiss.

“Oh, thank god.” Tom said, a little louder than intended. “Can I call you mine?”

You laughed, trying to stay quiet. “Please, do.” You answered reconnecting your lips.

Tom rolled to hover over you, deepening the kiss.

“Fucking finally!” you heard Scarlett call out, making Tom collapse on top of you in laughter.

“Right?” Evans added. “It’s been ages.”

“Fair warning, I am telling this story at your wedding” Hemsworth said.

“I think our friends are happy for us” Tom said in a much quieter voice, flipping the two of you so that you were laying against his chest.

“I mean, I’m pretty happy for us” you replied, snuggling into his warm chest.

“Me too, love. Get some sleep” he said, running his hand up and down your back as he felt your breaths even out.

[chiliiscereal]

Here’s your GIF for the writing challenge!

Prompt: “It’s not safe to be out here by yourself.”

Good luck and thanks for participating!💛

Thanks for letting me do this challenge again @crossbowking !

Pairing: father figure Daryl x reader AGAIN cause I’m a sucker for that lol

Setting: season 2

Type: fluff and angst I guess?

Summary: when looking for Sophia, Daryl finds reader holed up in a cabin. Reader doesn’t speak, doesn’t listen, and doesn’t trust them at all. No one can figure out why but reader sticks with them anyway. One day, Daryl follows reader when they sneak out of camp, hoping to find out what could possibly have happened to make them like that

——————-

Silent world

Sophia’s tracks had begun to fade like the afternoon sunlight. They had gotten faint but Daryl didn’t want to tell Carol the truth. Eventually they disappeared and he was only left with a direction.

He found a set of footsteps the size of Sophia’s about thirty minutes later. It had to be her. Judging by how they weren’t set in one specific direction, whoever it was must be lost.

He followed the footsteps to an old cabin. She had to be in there.

You, however, hadn’t realized you were followed until the door was opened. You felt the thumping of cautious footsteps on the floorboards and immediately jumped into action. You pulled yourself from the floor quickly and hid yourself beneath the dusty bed in the corner, dragging the blankets down to obscure you from their vision. If there was one thing you’d learned in this new world it was that you couldn’t trust people. Strangers, family, doesn’t matter.

“Sophia?” Daryl called out as he peered around the corner cautiously. He glanced about the room, taking in the living conditions.

Old food wrappers...

Empty water bottles...

A few blood stains...

An old backpack that CLEARLY wasn’t Sophia’s...

Whoever had been there it wasn’t Sophia. They’d been there longer than the girl had been lost.

He tightened his grip on his crossbow. “Whoever’s in here better come out now.” He ordered.

The only response was a slight shuffling noise from under the bed. If it had been Shane or Rick they wouldn’t have heard it. But Daryl had been hunting out in the woods since he was a child, trained in hearing the sounds of hiding creatures.

Whoever they were they were alive.

“Gonna hide forever?” He growled, raising the crossbow so it pointing at the bed.

Nothing.

He was absolutely tired of this person acting like their cover hadn’t been blown.

“Get out before I drag ya out myself.” He ordered, stepping closer.

Still nothing.

Finally, he had enough of it. He reached over and pulled the blanket away from the floor. He waited... thinking they’d come out.

No movement at all.

He grabbed the bed by its headboard and shoved it away from the wall, causing a small gasp to come from underneath it.

You were no longer in darkness.

You opened your wide eyes and backed up against the wall, chest heaving with panic.

This man looked dangerous to say the least.

Mean expression.

Weapon out and pointed at her face.

Knife hanging at his belt.

Suspicious blood stains on his shirt.

“You gotta be shittin’ me.” He groaned. “I go out lookin’ fer one kid and then I find a different one?”

You didn’t respond. You just watched him with wide eyes.

“Ya seen another girl ‘round here, kid?” He asked, trying to calm down.

Still nothing. You just pulled your legs closer and tried to press closer into the wall.

“Got a family?” He interrogated with a firmer tone. “A group? Parents? Hell, even a weapon?”

You watched him carefully. Almost too carefully in Daryl’s opinion. Once he’d finished you shook your head, eyes drifting back to the crossbow in his hand.

He hadn’t even realized it was still pointing at her. He lowered it but still kept the weapon in his grip. “The hell am I ‘sposed to do now?” He asked himself out loud. “Don’t need another mouth to feed.”

You didn’t offer any suggestions. All you did was stare.

After a moment he groaned, his morals speaking louder than the selfishness of a survivor. “Damn it. C’mon. Get up.” He waved you to follow after him.

You shook your head, backing away. You didn’t know this man! He could hurt you! Do bad things! No way in hell would you willingly go with him.

He frowned. “Can’t ya talk?”

Nothing.

Just wide eyes.

“Listen, I’m ‘bout to leave yer ass alone in the woods if ya don’t give me a good enough reason why ya can’t.” His temper began to flare. “Got a group, got food, got water, an’ other kids. Seems like a pretty good deal ta me.”

You seemed to react to the word ‘kids’. You sat up a bit and seemed to watch him with interest.

“Yeah. We got another kid at our camp.” He nodded. “It’s safe.” He swore he was about to leave right then when you said nothing.

You looked down at the floor, thinking. Was this a good idea? He could easily be lying. Very easily. He seemed to know exactly what to say. That was dangerous. Very dangerous.

But other kids... safety... and water... that was something you hadn’t seen in a good long while. Might as well give it a try, right? You could always run if things went south. You were good at that.

Needless to say, Daryl was surprised when you pulled yourself off the ground and picked up your bag. You gave him a wary look but followed him anyway.

“So, ya ever talk?” He asked as the two of you walked through the woods.

You didn’t answer. You just surveyed the woods carefully. He could have men out there waiting to jump you and do bad things. Or there could be walkers. You didn’t know.

Your racing thoughts were interrupted by a tap on your shoulder, flinching you out of your state of mind.

“Gonna answer me or what?” Daryl asked, getting more and more frustrated.

You just frowned at him, unsure of what he was saying. He was talking too fast for you to follow along with it.

“I asked if ya ever talk.” He shouldered his crossbow, no hope whatsoever in you answering.

All he got in return was a shrug.

“I’ll take that as a no.” He sighed. Whatever. At least he’d be able to walk to the farm in silence.

—————-

When they arrived everyone was confused on who you were or where you came from.

The people living in the farm house asked you many questions and you could only catch a few words here and there.

Where

Who

Name

Girl

Sophia

Seen

Group

Woods

You just stared at the floor, unsure of how to respond.

“Is there something wrong with her?” Maggie asked quietly. “She’s not answering anything.”

“Been like that since I found ‘er.” Daryl shrugged. “Ain’t sure ‘a her name, family, or if she even got anybody.”

“Where’d you find her?” Lori frowned. “Surely she has parents somewhere out there.”

Daryl wanted nothing more to leave and return to his tent. But he answered anyway. “Was in a cabin. By the looks ‘a it it’s just her.”

“Sweetie, can you tell us your name?” Lori bent down so she could see your face. “Or where your parents are?”

Your eyes didn’t leave the floor.

Lori sighed. “It’s almost as if she can’t hear me.”

“Or don’t want to.” Shane snorted, leaning against the wall. “Kid doesn’t seem too happy to be here. Probably just thinks ignorin’ us is gonna make us mad or some shit.”

“Damn right it’s makin’ me mad.” The hunter watched the kid in front of him. “Can’t tell if it’s on purpose.”

“I’ve heard ‘bout kids shutting down an’ not speak in’ when they’ve been through somethin’ traumatic.” Hershel informed the group. “It could be like what happened to Beth earlier, an’ it’ll just take some time for her to come around.”

That was the answer everyone seemed to settle on.

They gave you time as well as plenty of opportunities to talk to them. They tried asking questions or telling you things but you didn’t respond no matter how hard anyone tried.

Daryl began to suspect what the real case could be when you didn’t even respond when Shane yelled at you.

He’d been trying to hurry up the process by forcing you to talk. When he got no response he finally snapped.

You’d been reading a book Maggie let you borrow, unaware that anyone had been talking. But you caught on quickly when the book had been slapped from your hands.

You gasped and stumbled away, face to face with an angry Shane.

You weren’t close to anyone in the group so you ran to the person who had brought you there, hiding behind Daryl.

Daryl had been surprised. He didn’t think you liked anybody there at all. After all, you never talked to anybody. Never answered any questions. Being there for five days hadn’t changed anything.

“The hell’s yer problem man.” Daryl growled. “Ya always go ‘round tryin’ to scare kids or what?”

“It’s not my damn fault she won’t talk.” Shane yelled. “She’s gonna learn some respect if she wants to stay here.”

“Yellin’ at her won’t get ya any damn respect.” Daryl bit back. “Hershel said it’d take time, didn’t he?” He glanced down at you as you hid your face from the fight.

“It’s takin’ too much in my opinion.” Shane rolled his eyes and turned to walk away.

From that day on you steered clear of Shane and stayed by Daryl’s side. He wasn’t too sure why you’d chosen him out of everyone else and neither were you. But it seemed to be the right choice. The man never forced you to talk. He never yelled at you when you didn’t react.

It seemed like he simply enjoyed peace and quiet.

You helped around the farm house by washing dishes and feeding chickens. You helped Maggie and Lori make dinner and always helped them clean up after.

You picked flowers for Lori.

You showed Carl how to climb a tree.

You played cards with Glenn.

If Daryl didn’t know better he’d say that you were enjoying your stay at the farm.

But you still weren’t talking.

You interacted with everyone, yeah, but you still never spoke.

Not even when the farm fell.

—————

You and everyone had spent almost a month out in the woods once the farm was gone. You bounced from house to house and never stayed in one spot longer than needed.

One house you stayed at, you found a pair of small batteries. Even wire and tweezers. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to give you hope.

So that night you snuck out to the back yard once you were sure everyone was asleep.

But everyone wasn’t.

Daryl wasn’t.

He’d noticed the moment you disappeared.

He’d gotten up and walked outside, crossbow in hand. Maybe you’d ran away. Or got taken. Maybe you went outside and gotten lost.

But he found you leaning against a tree instead.

“It’s not safe to be out here by yourself.” Daryl stated, even though he knew you wouldn’t respond.

You did however react to feeling his footsteps vibrating the ground. Quickly, you stuffed whatever had been in your hands into your pockets and looked at him with wide eyes.

“Damn, kid, I ain’t gonna bite.” He held up his hands in surrender. “The hell ya doin out here?”

As always, you didn’t say anything. You looked back at the forest floor almost guiltily.

“Somethin’ wrong?” He frowned.

You knew you should tell him. He’d proven himself trustworthy after all. You just... you were scared you were wrong. That he’d be just like every other adult I. Your life.

“What’d ya have in yer hand before?” He tried, gesturing to whatever you’d stuffed in your pocket.

You tore your gaze away from him and reached down to pull out an object wrapped in cloth.

Daryl sat down beside you. “Can I see it?”

You held it a bit closer, brain still thinking in circles.

“I ain’t gonna break it or nothin’ if that’s what yer worried about.” He rolled his eyes.

Finally your mind was made. You set it down in his hands and waiting for his reaction.

Carefully, aware that you were watching his every movement, he unwrapped whatever it was.

He didn’t know what it was at first. It was almost as long as his smallest finger and was colored silver and tan. He realized what it was when he finally turned it over.

“Hearin’ aids?” He asked, turning to you.

You took a deep breath and nodded. “D-deaf.” You spoke, nerves at how he’d react making you stutter.

He jerked back a bit in surprise. “Ya been deaf this entire time?”

Another nervous nod.

“Damn, that’s impressive.” He gave you a sort of half grin. “How’d no one catch on? An’ why didn’t ya tell nobody?”

You reached into your pocket and pulled out a notebook, scribbling on a couple sentences. You showed him once you were done.

‘Lip reading. And I didn’t trust you.’

“But why didn’t ya talk like ya did now?” He frowned. “I wouldn’t ‘a known the difference.”

You wrote down more, hesitantly.

‘I’ve been told I sound stupid when I talk. So I don’t.’

You fiddled with your shoelace as he read.

“Who the hell told ya that?” He practically growled. “And why don’t ya know any ‘a that sign language?”

You took the notebook back and wrote down a few more sentences.

“And why don’t ya use the hearin’ aids?” He added.

You turned the book back to face him, only one word written.

‘Dad’

You felt ashamed to be admitting this. This wasn’t anything he needed to know. He would probably react the same way your dad reacted when he was given the opportunity.

“Hell no yer gonna explain more than that.” Daryl pushed the book back into your arms. “Can’t just half ass an answer.”

You sighed and began again.

‘He thought being deaf was a weakness. No sign language, no hearing aids, and no talking the moment my mom turned. He broke them when I broke the rules.’

You swallowed the emotions rising back up in the back of your throat.

He was a horrible man.

It was sickening, but you were almost glad that he was gone.

Daryl’s expression darkened when he read those words. “Sounds like an ass to me.” He handed the notebook back to you again. “So you tryin’ ya fix ‘em?”

You nodded and pulled out the batteries and wire, shrugging.

Daryl sighed. “Sorry, but that won’t be enough to fix these.” He examined the hearing aids once more. The wires were pulled apart and some of the plastic had snapped.

“... I know.” You managed to speak again, summoning your bravery. “Just wanted to try.”

Daryl’s expression didn’t change when you spoke. Maybe your dad was wrong. Maybe you didn’t sound as stupid as he told you you did.

Daryl handed the hearing aids back to you gently. “M’sorry kid.”

You shrugged again, placing them back in your pocket carefully.

Suddenly, Daryl had an idea. I’d require a run for sure but it’d be worth it. For now, he’d keep quiet about it. He didn’t even know if it’d work. But he might as well try.

——-

For the next few weeks on the road Daryl was on every run. You were curious about why but you dismissed it as him trying to make sure everyone would survive the coming winter.

By now, everyone knew you were deaf. They all reacted as Daryl had and treated you the same as they always did.

It was relieving to be honest. And a bit of a surprise. But the bigger surprise came later when Daryl told you he wanted to show everyone something in the woods.

You’d followed along, assuming he’d found more supplies.

Instead of revealing more supplies, he knelt down so he was at your level.

“I know it’s been hard without yer hearin’...” he started, reaching into his back pocket, “an’ I hope ya don’t mind I did this without askin’...” he pulled out an object wrapped in a familiar cloth.

You realized what was happening the moment you saw it.

“I gave it my best shot.” He pulled away the fabric and revealed the newly repaired hearing aids. “Found a book an’ some supplies on the last run.”

You hadn’t even realized tears were running down your face until they dropped onto your shirt.

Daryl reaches over and placed the hearing aids in your hands. “Give ‘em a try?”

You glanced at the faces of your new group. They must have known. Not a single one of them looked surprised. Just expectant and...happy. Happy for you.

Slowly, you tucked your hair out of your way. You set the small machine in place. You placed your hand over the on button tentatively.

The Hunter you’d grown attached to gave you a nod.

Finally, you pressed the button.

You waited and held your breath.

It was as if everything came crashing in at once.

The wind that rushed through the trees was giving out hollow rattling noises.

The birds above were chirping shrilly, each whistle harmoniously fitting together like a puzzle.

And you... you could hear yourself gasping in surprise as you spun in circles. You could hear the leaves crunching beneath your feet. Did that always happen?

“I’ll take it that it works?” Your thought were interrupted by a raspy southern accent.

You spun around, facing Daryl once more.

He stood back up, tip of his mouth tipped up in a half smile.

You couldn’t speak.

You couldn’t even thank him with your words.

So you thanked him the only way you knew how: with actions.

You wasted no time in running in his direction, more tearing spilling down your face as you wrapped your arms around the surprised man.

He returned the gesture after a moment of hesitation. “Wasn’t no problem.”

You buried you face in his shoulder, overcome with emotion. “Thank you thank you thank you thank you!”

He rubbed your back comfortingly. “Was nothin’.”

You shook you head and hugged him harder. “No, it was everything.”

[twstdreams]

A Bouquet to Share: Flower Foraging

CYOA: Chronic Hanahaki AU

Length: 2K | ao3 link

Warnings: fluff, mentions of flu/cold

next

You’re waiting in front of the mirror for your turn to pass, behind the infamous first years. No one in NRC isn’t aware of the prefect and their friends, mostly how they perpetually get themselves in all sorts of trouble. 

“Hey, wasn’t the prefect going to be in our group?” Jack asks

“Oh, they couldn’t make it because they got sick,” Deuce answers. There’s a pause as the unasked question lingers in the air. If they’re just suffering from a passing virus or if it’s that illness.

“With a normal cold,” Ace clarifies, “Grim’s been complaining about having to take care of them.”

You think you’ve heard ten different iterations of this conversation before. Some with Octa A-kun, another with a Pomefiore duo, the same rumours and inquiries always start flying when winter is broken by spring’s warm touch. Everyone wants to know who has hanahaki and chronic sufferers are always the first suspect. People attempt to deduce who’s sick because of pollen or because of the flowers blooming in their lungs. It’s not a lethal disease with modern magic and technology, but you swear enough drama follows it to make up for the lack of imminent doom.

“Hand!” the ghost before you demands once you’re at the front of the line. You offer the back of your hand and immediately a rose is stamped on it, proof that you’re a student who has access to the Great Seven botanical gardens. Then you step through the mirror and are greeted by the site of a massive glass structure. You’re excited to explore the grounds. Each area is its own biome with unique flora and fauna which flourish in that environment. Personally, you’re hoping to see the aquatics section for fun, but you need to ensure that you complete your assignment first.

“Meet each other in the tropical region in two hours!” you text to Jamil and he responds with an affirmation. You two had already agreed to this prior to the project. Most people are wandering the gardens with their partner, but you know Jamil has his hands full with Kalim. You just hope Jamil will actually get to appreciate a couple flowers too.

Officially, the headmaster says this is a field trip for all grades because botany is useful in several fields of magic. You think it’s because a massive amount of students visiting from a prestigious school gets him some sort of discount, but those aren’t thoughts you voice out loud. Not that you care, the Great Seven Botanical gardens hosts some unique and deadly plants, even more so than the poisonous flowers allowed to bloom on campus. You can't choose a lot of them for your assignment but nothing is stopping you from visiting them if you have extra time. Plus, activities amongst different classes aren’t that common, let alone those in various years. If you’re lucky, you might see Malleus amongst the flowers.

You’ve only met Malleus at night, on late walks while perhaps avoiding a guard or two. The daffodils at the entrance remind you of your first meeting with Malleus. But you can’t recall clearly, was there only one daffodil at the spot where you met or several?

-

Staying up late the night before to cram for a test, only to crash and take a nap afterwards completely messed up your sleep schedule. No amount of staring at your ceiling was going to make you drowsy. Besides, you want to explore the campus and check out some night-blooming flowers. You spotted several during the day but hadn’t gotten the chance to see them underneath the moonlight. 

You slip out of your dorm to enjoy the slight breeze and fresh air entering your lungs. Exploring the campus at night feels a little liminal. Not to say that it was silent, some nocturnal familiars scurry around, a ghost or two floating, and more than a couple of students here and there creating background noise. But it's interesting to see a campus normally overflowing with life morph into something restful and quiet. The closer you get to the Ramshackle dorm, the more this effect becomes more pronounced.

You spot plenty of random vegetation growing on the lawns of the dorm. You’d be willing to bet a week’s worth of lunches that dorm hasn’t had real maintenance for at least a decade. Horrid for the prefect living there, you really do feel bad for them, but lots of fun for your midnight flower foraging trip. Your phone battery is dying fast with the flashlight so you test out a new spell you’ve recently learned. You murmur the incantation and a ball of light forms in the palm of your hand. You try to extend it so it acts as a familiar but the light begins to flicker so you’re stuck with having it illuminate the area around your hand. A little testing, a failure or two, and you’re able to create a soft light to guide you. Your hand is nothing but a glorified flashlight, but you can see your surroundings so it’s not a total fail. Unfortunately, what you thought was some pretty evening primrose is actually daffodils.

“How odd. You’re not one of the Ramshackle inhabitants,” a voice notes. You’re certain a ghost has come to lecture you, but you let out a gasp when you realize a living being is behind you.

“I’m, uh, yeah I don’t live here,” you admit, “Just wanted some fresh air. I couldn’t sleep.” You were honestly hoping to avoid all dorm leaders, you know some don’t take kindly to students leaving their dorm after hours, and you think some greater force must be laughing at you because somehow you’ve stumbled upon the most mysterious and powerful one.

“And you came to this abandoned building to do that?” His voice is even. You’re not sure if there’s an accusation laced in his statement or if his regal airs just make him always seem confident and a bit unfriendly.

“I thought it’d be cool to see the night-blooming flowers too,” you add, “There’s supposed to be some evening primrose and moonflowers beneath a gargoyle but I can’t figure out which one it is.” 

“I can introduce you to the correct gargoyle,” Malleus comments. Your head, which is frantically processing information and doing its best to be logical, tells you that’s probably a social cue to ask him to show you where the gargoyle is. Your mind, however, is still trying to comprehend how the heck you ended up meeting the Malleus Draconia on a weedy lawn.

“I am part of the gargoyle appreciation society,” he continues but the way his lips were pressed into a thin line indicates that you’ve spent a little too long coming up with a response.

“Oh! That’s impressive,”—now isn’t a good time to admit you didn’t know that club existed—“if you don’t mind, then I’d really appreciate it!” He nods once in acknowledgement and you begin trailing after the dragon fae. 

“Do you know about each of the gargoyles?” you ask; you ought to express interest in his passions when he’s doing you a favour. You’re not sure what to expect, but it was most definitely not an encyclopedic infodump about Ramshackle’s gargoyles.

“This is the first gargoyle, located on the entrance to the east building. Are you able to see it?” Before you had a chance to answer, Malleus casts a spell of light that creates fake fireflies which illuminate your surroundings. 

“Now I can. It kind of looks like a crow,” you answer. The gargoyle is easy to see but you think Malleus’ elegant magic is more beautiful. Your lightbulb of a hand is almost embarrassing and you quickly stop the spell.

“It is a crow, which is extremely rare for a gargoyle. This is the only one I’ve ever seen. Its quality means it must have been made by a famous craftsman. It looks like it could take flight at any moment.” He goes on about the history of the gargoyles here; you’ve never really been interested in them but the way Malleus talks about them with such excitement makes you engaged. It’s the way that extensive knowledge is intertwined with informed hypotheses while the excitement in his tone never leaves. Hearing Malleus talk about something he loves feels enchanting and endearing. His bubbling enthusiasm is cute.

“This is the gargoyle with the evening primrose and moonflowers,” Malleus announces. Once he finishes his little spiel about its history, you begin to take pictures of the flowers. You want to ask if you can take a picture of him; there’s something so odd about this experience that you want a picture to prove it is real. However, the fresh air has awaken your brain cells and they let you know that perhaps asking someone you just met for a photo in the dead of night is not the best idea. But well, Malleus has been pretty accommodating so you decide to ask for another favour.

“If you don’t mind, could you teach me that light spell?” you inquire. The surprise is evident in his expression and you wonder if you’re being too selfish.

“Is that so? You want me to help you with your spell? Interesting,” he comments and honestly, the pause makes you so nervous you regret ever opening your mouth, “Very well. Show me what you can do.” Even though you're the one who asked, you're a little surprised that the Malleus Draconia has agreed to some impromptu tutoring.

“I can summon a light but I’m having trouble making it steady after it stops making contact with my body,” you explain while taking out your wand. You murmur the incantation and a soft light envelopes your hand while illuminating your surroundings. As the light starts to float away, its shape begins to morph and looks like a blob of light which never stays a consistent shape, akin to a lava lamp. 

“You have enough magic to power the spell. The changing shape suggests that you’re having trouble imagining the outcome,” Malleus sumrises, “Why don’t you try mimicking the shape of mine?” Malleus adjusts the shape of his firefly lights into simple spheres. Unfortunately, it does not go so smoothly for you. First the light looks like a balloon, then it shrinks to the size of a marble, but when you have it at a reasonable size then the edges of the ball begin to quiver.

“I’m sorry it’s taking me so long,” you mutter. Sure, you don’t expect to be on the same level as someone as infamous as the Diasomnia dorm leader, but this feels embarrassing.

“You aren’t expected to master everything at the beginning. Don’t be shy,” he reassures. His comforting words encourage you to calm down. You take in a deep breath and start again. The light transforms into a uniform sphere—your own little sun for this corner of the world the two of you are tucked away in.

“I did it!” you exclaim, “It’s all thanks to your advice!” You toss the light between your hands before extending it to float beside Malleus’.

“You already completed the basics. I only offered some advice,” he gently protests but a smile remains on his face all the same.

“What’s the incantation to change its colour again?” you ask, and Malleus says it aloud for you to repeat. You alter your spell, dying it in your favourite colour, then allow it to dance in the sky. His luminescent green light merges with yours, and the spells twine with each other.

-

Since then you’ve taken to late-night walks for exercise and hopes of meeting Malleus. You haven’t exactly been charming—

“Are you here to admire gargoyles?” Malleus inquires when the two of you meet in the dead of night yet again.

“No, but I can,” you offer. Admitting to the ruler of the valley of thorns that you have been wandering around at night to see him again because you’re very intrigued and a little enamoured is not ideal. Luckily Malleus never questions your intent.

— but the two of you are on friendly terms now. So far no flowers were blooming in your lungs, but you’d be lying if you said a crush wasn’t taking root in your heart. But before you could linger on any hypothetical flowers, you have to pick an actual flower for your assignment! As a second year, you will have to grow whichever flower you pick back at school. 

Which flower will you choose? Vote here

White and pink carnations

Crimson astilbe (feather flowers)

Purple snapdragons

Orange tiger lilies

[transgirl-catra]

Alright i started writing snippets from the catradora firefly au I've been kicking around for a while as a way of beating writer's block so. here u go if that sounds interesting.

“Understood, captain. Running dark until your signal,” Entrapta’s voice crackles over the intercom, enthusiastic as ever even in the face of the worst possible danger. As loathe as she is to admit it, Catra finds it… comforting, in a strange way.

“Thanks ‘trapta. I’ll hit the light when we’re clear. Stay shiny.” Catra returns as she settles herself into the captain’s chair. She can hear her engineer start to echo the statement before the last traces of power bleed out of the onboard comms.

The main generator shuts off with an abrupt clunk, the sudden deceleration of the flywheel shuddering the entire ship with a force that she can feel even all the way forward, about the furthest point on the entire ship. They still have some power, of course. The life support systems and the low-powered emergency lights along the base of the walls switch seamlessly over to batteries. But crucially, batteries don’t make noise. Meaning that the entire ship is completely, eerily quiet.

And with that, there’s nothing for them to do but wait as the Melog coasts forward on its own momentum. Catra hates this part, no matter how many times she’s done it. She trusts her crew, of course. And she trusts Melog, even if no one else does. And she, at least mostly, trusts herself. Which is exactly the problem. Running dark means having absolutely no control over the ship. Playing dead and hoping to pass yourself off as just another piece of space junk until you can skate by unnoticed, before powering back up and putting as much distance as possible between yourself and whatever you were hiding from before they can turn around and catch up.

They’re almost in the shadow of the reaver ship now, darkness filling the glass of the viewport and blocking out the last bit of light that Catra has. It’s huge, easily a dozen times the displacement of the Melog at a low estimate. Far, far too large to be out this far into alliance space normally.

That’s an advantage for them, she tries to remind herself. A larger ship means its easier for Melog to slip by unnoticed, really.

It sure doesn’t feel like one. They’re all the way under, now. It would be absolutely trivial for a ship this size to pull them in, and then…

Catra cuts herself off before she can start thinking about what would happen next, gripping the armrest so hard that she can feel it creak under the strain. Deep breaths, she tells herself. There’s nothing she can do now but wait.

Time is crawling now, despite the fact that Melog is moving as fast as she was when she went dark. Catra is trying, she really is. Drawing breath, counting to five, exhaling. Over and over again. It’s tenuous, but she still feels present at least. It's her duty as captain to be the one to stay aware during situations like this, and she intends to do it.

Maybe it's the stress of the day, the unexpected return of someone she thought was out of her life for good, or maybe its the fact that she could swear she sees something shift on the vessel above them, even though it’s probably just a trick of the slight warping of the viewport glass. Either way, something snaps. Catra draws her arms to her shoulders and pulls her legs into the chair, pressing her knees to her chest, the panic that's been swimming around the edges of her mind finally consuming her. Her breaths are sharp now, failing to draw much in the way of useful oxygen. She can see her reflection clearly in the glass before she screws her eyes shut. She looks pathetic. The fearless smuggler, Catra D’riluth, captain of the last of the fireflies, reduced to a crying mess. This is why she had come up here the second they spotted the ship. She can’t let anyone see her like this.

-------------- “I just… can’t believe they’re actually real,” Glimmer says nervously, staring at the scrap of napkin that she’s folded and unfolded dozens of times in the last few minutes, “I thought that they were just a campfire story”

“Oh yeah! They’re actually pretty routine out here, honestly,” Scorpia answers with a disturbing amount of cheer. “A lot worse than the stories, though.” She adds, making Glimmer and Bow cling to each other even tighter, somehow.

“Scorp. Not helping,” Lonnie interjects from the other end of the dining table where she’s been perpetually checking and rechecking her gun ever since the lights went out. “She does mean it about the routine, though. Get up and walk around if you need to. We might be like this for a while.”

“Okay. right. Adora, you need anything? Food? Water?” Glimmer asks, turning her gaze over her shoulder to where Adora had been sitting against the wall just a moment ago, only to find it completely empty.

“Fuck”

-----------------

Catra is almost on the verge of passing out, simply allowing the panic to pull her under, when she feels a hand softly brush against her own Normally, being touched unexpectedly when she’s like this would send her jumping out of her own skin, earning whoever was responsible a quick claw to the face. But there’s… a strange familiarity to this one, the way the fingers start to press between her own and the way that her own allow them to do so, parting without resistance as they slowly intertwine.

Scorpia doesn’t really have fingers to do this with. Entrapta tends to be pretty respectful about the no-touching-me-without-warning rule (and would also probably be using her hair). Lonnie, much like Catra herself, is just… not a very touchy person in general, outside of her partners. Which means…

Adora is silently standing in the doorway when Catra manages to look over her shoulder, those wide, pale-blue eyes almost glowing in the darkness.

“I’m fine, okay? Go back to the mess with everyone else, your friends are probably looking for you,” Catra manages to choke out, despite the fact that she is, very visibly, not fine.

Adora stands her ground wordlessly. But no matter how much time and distance is between them, Catra and Adora don’t need words anymore. She knows what that pleading look means on a basic, almost instinctual level: let me help?

“Fine. You can stay,” Catra relents more out of curiosity than anything else. Something in her just has to know if the girl that she fell in love with is still somewhere inside this strange, broken shell of a person that’s wound up wandering her ship.

Adora looks delighted at that, more emotion on her face than Catra has seen since she climbed out of that cryo-crate as she steps forward, never letting her hand leave Catra’s shoulder until she’s effectively draped herself over the back of the chair. Only then does she allow it to move, wrapping her arms around Catra’s chest and dropping to press her face into Catra’s hair, brushing slightly against her ears as she does so.

And then she starts humming, and that’s when Catra knows. The rise and fall of the song is familiar, because they’ve done this more times than Catra can count. Catra doesn’t even like this song, really. Just some old thing from their homeworld, romanticized ideals of freedom in space that have never really been true. But it was the one that Adora knew how to sing reliably. And so she did, over and over again whenever Catra’s anxiety got bad. In their bunks as children, on the battlefield, dozens of other places throughout their life.

Even just from Adora humming the tune against her, Catra can feel her breathing starting to calm down, her body starting to unwind.

She didn’t even realize she had started muttering the words that go with it under her breath, in absence of Adora being able to use her voice. She didn’t even know she still remembered them, really.

Adora shifts against her, and Catra can see her expression of surprise reflected in the glass. She hadn’t been expecting this to work, but she still had to try.

“Of course I still know it, dumbass,” Catra says, voice still shaking as she elbows Adora lightly, “Start over?”

Adora obliges, burying her face in Catra’s hair again and resuming the tune from the start. And Catra allows herself to sing for the first time in… god knows how long, honestly, her soft voice filling the cockpit and mixing with Adora’s humming. It’s shaky, at first. She’s rusty and stressed and hits all the notes just a little to the left of where they should be, voice nearly breaking on some of the higher ones. But she gets progressively more steady as it goes, and it feels good to be working in tandem with Adora again, regardless of her feelings about the sudden reunion.

By the time the song finishes, they’re well clear of the other ship, and Catra releases a long breath as she slips her hand from Adora’s, flipping the red switch on the console to turn on the signal in the engine room. Seconds later, the Melog roars back to life, Catra ordering Scorpia to punch the throttle. The danger has passed now.

Catra pushes Adora’s arms off her as she stands up, desperate to reestablish her walls.

“You should go back to your friends. They’re probably still worried about you. And I have a ship to run.”

Adora looks… sad, almost. But she nods, and then disappears down the hallway. She’s gone almost as quickly as she had appeared.

Leaving Catra with one answer, and a whole universe of new questions.

[toonformers]

Ignorance is Bliss (Transformers Prime fanfic)

I made TFP Centishock! Uhhh hope you like it!

“Survival log number 309. I am still marooned on Cybertron, with no means of escape. No ship of which I can fly out, no functional space bridge, communications cut off entirely, and no sign of any Decepticon returning to the abandoned planet soon. I only rely on recording my thoughts for now. However, the battery could run out at any moment, and I will be subjected to the horrors of insanity. I need to act fast and find a new power supply for the recorder if I am to survive my own mind in this wasteland.

However, when one is completely blind, said action can prove…difficult. I have been thankfully able to prevent any infection in my optic and have managed to scour Cybertron for useful parts for my experiments just fine, but I’ve yet to repair the optical nerve within my helm. I’ve not studied enough medical science to perform such a delicate repair, and my lack of sight only complicates the procedure. Accidental damage to my processor is a high risk. Therefore, it is illogical I perform such a repair until I find a suitable corpse to reference off, so I may distinguish each part of my system. Ironically, in a planet where all that is left is rubble and corpses, none of them bare heads….at least not whole ones. …Hmm, it seems I was mistaken. There is also one life…apart from my own.”

The purple mech suddenly whipped behind him and fired his canon; he couldn’t see, but the sound of light footsteps following him were easy to detect when all he has heard since being left behind was his own voice, rumbling of debris collapsing and the complete silence dead at night. Shockwave found it strange he could not detect their energy signature, he assumed it was some form of surviving Cybetronian fauna, looking to devour him. He hummed a little, assuming he had gotten the creature in one shot, but then he could hear it: shaky breathing. However, there was no growling or screeching. Perhaps he had injured the creature enough. Being a scientist, he decided to try to investigate what was his attacker, to see if it could provide anything useful. Shockwave felt around for the nearest metallic plate, then banged on it with his arm, allowing the sonar vibrations to reveal a faint purple shape hidden behind debris within his current state of black nothingness. A bot.

“Show yourself.” He said as he slowly walked towards them, his footsteps thudding as he got closer. “Do not try to outrun me, for it will only quicken your demise.”

“I won’t…” A delicate voice responded, cold and calculating like him, but with a hint of fear in their tone. “…as long as you don’t shoot me.”

Shockwave hummed pensively as he heard the voice. “A femme…” He mumbled to himself. “I was sure that there was only one surviving Cybertronian femme…and it was the same one who sabotaged my technology and left me to rust with her colleague. Hope for your sake you are not the same femme…”

“I am not.” The femme swiftly responded; the light footsteps of her standing being heard. “I have never seen you before. We do have in common the aspect of abandonment, though. I was separated from my colleagues in the crossfire, an explosion left me unconscious. When I awoke, I was alone…or so I thought.”

The purple mech did not want to admit it, but he had some sympathy for the femme, and was willing to let her live…for now. However, an essential question remained within the cold, possibly emotionless mind, and the answer would determine whether this femme would live…or die. “I see…what is your faction?”

“Does it matter?” She replied. “We are the only two left in the entirety of Cybertron and will possibly not be in contact with others of our side for the rest of our lives. Fighting to the death would be pointless, as it will not change anything. One of us will still be alone.”

“Hmm…wrong answer.” He responded in a deep almost growling tone as he prepped his canon. It hummed as Shockwave felt the warmth of a charge building up in his weapon and pointed it to the stranger.

“Your optic is broken, is it not?” The femme responded, her previous fear seemingly gone as Shockwave simply stood there, thinking. He kept his canon pointed at her as he allowed her to speak. “Your optical nerve. I can see it’s severely damaged. I am a scientist, but I was trained in all branches of science, including medical. I can repair your wound, then you won’t need to do it yourself. You don’t need to worry about me trying to kill you. I am not skilled in combat, and your size and strength leave me at a disadvantage. Therefore, it would be pointless to try. I’d rather help, regardless of faction.” She sighed softly, hoping that was enough to convince him.

“I find your argument…logical.” The purple mech responded, then lowered his canon as it powered down. “I will allow you to repair me, miss…” He trailed off, allowing the femme to speak her name.

“Centinela. Centinela Minor. Scientist. All-round specialty. And you are…?”

“Shockwave. Chief Decepticon scientist. Genetics specialty.” He extended his servo for a handshake, and Centinela grasped it gently. Her servo was very soft and small with very few scratches, as though these servos had never been in the deep pit of war until recently. Meanwhile, Shockwave’s large clawed servo was full of old and recent scratches, making it feel very rough. And his grip was usually firm, however it softened when he noticed just how small the bot was. By estimate, the femme would be just barely chest height to him, frail and tiny. She made the right choice to not run away, much less try to defend herself. He then let go of the femme’s servo and sighed. “I have a research facility in Tarn. It’s about a megacycle away. It has all the materials required for you to repair my optical nerve.”

“All except the actual nerve…” She responded with a sigh. “The damage is so severe; I’ll have to replace your nerve with another one. I have my own research facility in Tarn as well. There are some bodies who have donated themselves to science of which I can use. Perhaps we should go there first.” Shockwave hummed in response.

“Very well. I will follow you.” And so, the two went off to Centinela’s laboratory, the purple mech suspicious the entire way, and understandably so. He was trusting a stranger, who refused to let him know of her faction, was being led to her laboratory, all while being totally blind. On the other hand, however, Shockwave had a small hunch that this was one of those situations where ignorance is…advantageous. Bliss is illogical.

//

Let’s call that part one. Thinking of doing more. We’ll see!

[jtsfavslut]

Show Me How II

Description: After countless 'I think she's the one' Grayson loses hope in finding his soulmate. But one girl gives him the hope to try again.

Warnings: None Word Count: 4.5k+

Part One

"Grayson, you can't put three of the same things next to each other," you said noticing how he was putting the same type of decorations next to each other. "You gotta spread em' out evenly," you added before moving over to where he was and spending out the little fake spiders.

"He's so dumb," Ethan shouted making you shake your head as Grayson cursed him out and they began to bicker.

"I didn't know I was taking care of toddlers, I would've brought toys," you sarcastically shouted as Karolina laughed, shaking her head.

"You might want to run away and save yourself while you can," Karo whispered and you shook your head laughing.

"I think I'll stick around for a bit, get some source of entertainment," you replied and focused back on decorating.

"Karo, let's go get some food while these two decorate," Ethan shouted and she nodded her head, carefully putting the decorations on the floor before walking away.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Ethan shouted as they walked away.

"So basically anything with common sense? Got it," you shouted back causing a 'fuck off' to fall past his lips and Karolina and Grayson to laugh.

"You almost done?" Grayson asked you and you shook your head.

"Just a couple of things. Do you guys have a step stool or something? I need to put some things up there?" You asked pointing to the area near the roof.

"No, but you can sit on my shoulders, I'm sure you'll reach," he said and you laughed.

"And crush your body and soul? No thanks, I don't have money for a lawyer," you replied and he glared at you shaking his head.

"Y/N, please don't say that come on," he said and crouched down. You hesitantly climbed on his back and sat on his shoulders and you wrapped your arms around his neck as he rose up.

You carefully placed the decorations as you told him where to stand.

"See, we're done!" He exclaimed with excitement and you shook your head with a smile.

"I am never offering to decorate someone's house again, we've been here for two hours. Two fucking hours," you groaned and laid down on the floor.

"Oh come on? It was fun!" He shouted and you mentally rolled your eyes since your eyes were closed.

"Yeah, says the one that put three things up," you said and he scoffed.

"Shut up before I throw you in the pool," he said and you shrugged.

"Ah yes! And murder me and finish this misery," you joked and heard him chuckle.

"You have class tomorrow?" He asked and you felt him lay down next to you.

"Yeah, it's just one tho," you sighed nodding your head.

"Which one?"

"Organic Chemistry, kinda fun you know?" You replied.

"I don't, I don't even know what that is actually," he said causing you to laugh.

"It's the study of the structure, reactions, and all that other stuff of carbon-containing compounds and shit," you replied and Grayson stared at you with confusion on his face.

"What a carbon-containing compound?" He asked.

"It's a chemical substance that contains carbon, hence the name carbon-containing compound. And a compound is a mixture of two elements. It's basic biology," you said and he nodded his head, still not understanding but not wanting to ask any more questions.

"Holy shit you're smart. Me and E didn't even stay in high school," he said causing you to laugh.

"Well, I'm not going to college for nothing. But you guys had a reason to not stay in school, plus look at this, you didn't even graduate and look at you, meanwhile, look at me, worked my ass off in school and still are busting my ass only to live in a shitty ass apartment, in a shitty ass neighborhood with a shitty add job," you sighed.

"Your apartment isn't shitty Y/N, it's cute. And you're working toward what you want. Have you even made your decision yet?" He asked and you nodded your head opening your eyes.

"Yeah. I'm gonna continue with college. I want to help save people, especially children, I want to help people get a second chance," you said smiling.

"Good, I'm proud of you. And I know you're going to be a great anes- doctor however you pronounce it," he laughed making you chuckle.

"An anesthesiologist Gray, and thank you" you softly replied with a smile.

"We're back bitches," Ethan's voice screamed out as both were shaking you up. "And we brought Monty's and McDonald’s for the meat-eating monster," he added, making you roll your eyes.

"Thank you, Mr. Vegan, I appreciate it. And I appreciate you ordering meat at a store, that's really mature of you," you replied, getting up along with Grayson and following everyone inside the house.

"So, Y/N, are you staying in school?" Ethan asked and you nodded your head, holding a finger up as you swallowed whatever was in your mouth.

"Yeah, I wanna help people, and it's kinda too late to switch majors or drop out now. It's only three more months, and finals are coming up as well," you replied and he nodded his head.

"And after that, do you instantly become a doctor?" Karolina asked and you shook your head.

"Not really, since this is medical school, I need to take on a residency program for a couple of years until I'm officially certified as an anesthesiologist. You still get paid but not as much,"

"That's a lot of work," she replied.

"Yeah, but it kinda pays off at the end, it's a high salary and you can retire pretty early. And you get the satisfaction of helping people," you shrugged.

The conversation carried on switching from different topics as everyone ate their food.

"I need help," you softly said, walking back into the house.

"What wrong?" Grayson asked looking up from his phone filler by Ethan and Karo.

"My dumb car won't turn on," you pouted and Grayson got up from his seat following you outside.

"You have jumper cables?" You asked and he shook his head. "How about soda? The battery terminals might be clogged and that helps clean them," you asked and he shook his head.

"No, but how do you know that?" He asked and you smiled.

"After years of getting yelled at by holding the flashlight wrong, you learn a thing or two," you said and he nodded his head.

You spent a good fifteen minutes trying everything you could but the car wasn't bugging. It was almost 2 Am and Uber prices would be through the roof.

"You wanna spend the night here? You can sleep in my room. It's too dark to be driving around, and to our convenience, it's raining," Grayson sighed and you nodded your head.

"It's ok, I can sleep on the couch, I don't want to take your room away," you said and he shook his head.

"I can't let you sleep on the couch, that's rude," he said and you shook your head smiling.

"What's rude is me staying the night," you replied.

"You're our friend and that's not rude, condone we can split the bed or something," he said grabbing your hand and pulling you to his room.

"Do you wanna shower?" He asked and you nodded your head. "I'll get you some clothes, let me ask Karo if she has anything," he said and you nodded your head.

"Grayson, unless it's big on her it's not going to fit me," you said with a smile and he gave you a look which you couldn't read. "I'm not ashamed or anything. I know my size and she's smaller than me," you added sending him a smile and he nodded his head.

"Here's a shirt and some joggers and a pair of boxers, these are new by the way," he said, handing you everything neatly folded. "Oh some socks in case you want them, and a hoodie," he said, handing you more stuff.

"Gray, I'm fine, thank you," you laughed thanking him, and began walking to the Bathroom he showed you earlier.

You quickly went inside, took off your clothes and turned on the shower, which he had shown you the day you had your little pool party, and took a short but long shower before realizing you had no towel.

"Umm Gray," you said, opening the door and standing behind it, only showing your head.

"Yeah, everything's okay?" He asked and you shook your head.

"I need a towel," you softly replied and he nodded his head.

"Oh yeah, I forgot about that, I'll bring your one," he said and left the room getting a towel and quickly walking back.

"Thank you," you said as he handed you the towel, his eyes catching a glimpse of your bare tits when you went to grab the towel forgetting you were naked.

"I'm sorry, oh my God," he quickly apologized, closing his eyes and walking away.

"No I'm sorry, I forgot I wasn't wearing anything. God this is so embarrassing," you exclaimed with your flushed face. You just flashed him something no one's ever seen before. You quilt got dressed into the hoodie and joggers he handed you and folded your clothes, placing them on the far back corner of the sink counter.

"Well, that's something new, I've never shown anyone my tits before," you joked walking out the bathroom causing Grayson to blush.

"Wait really?" He asked and you nodded your head.

"Yes, is that so hard to believe Dolan? Ima good girl," you laughed and he shook his head.

"Have you even dated anyone?" he asked and you shook your head laying down on his bed.

"No, I didn't really have time and I wasn't interested in anyone in that way. I was close but it didn't work out," you shrugged and he looked at you in confusion.

"We didn't work out because I was too busy with school. And if I want a relationship I want to make sure I'm putting my best and I couldn't give him that, so I stopped it before it got too serious.

"That's a valid reason, at least I think it is," he said and you nodded your head. "How about now? Do you think you're ready?"

"I think so. It depends on who the person is, you know? And also whether they're serious about it or not," you shrugged.

"I need you to rub that off on me," he sighed and you turned to look at him.

"No Gray. You just need to find what you're missing. Maybe settle down for a while, and when you least expect it she'll be right there for you, and if it's meant to be it'll last and work out." you said and ruffled his hair making him smile, "Just give the universe and God time. Their timing is always right," you smiled at him, making his urge to kiss you stronger.

But he fought it away, it was hard but he didn't. He didn't want to mess up the friendship that was just beginning. You wouldn't have minded tho, not one bit.

"Thanks, Y/N, you're always so wise and have advice for everything, I don't know how but you do," he said and you shrugged.

"I don't know either," you yawned, slowly closing your eyes.

"You tired?" he asked and you nodded your head.

"Let me tuck you in, yeah?" he said, making you chuckled at his sweetness.

The next morning you woke up to a pair of arms wrapped around and your legs tangled with someone else's. Butterflies erupting in your stomach along with a red tint on your cheeks.

You tried to move but he just wouldn't budge making you let out a sigh.

"Grayson….Grayson, let me go," you whispered, shouted and he shook his head.

"Mmm, Five more minutes please," he mumbled, his morning voice hyping up thoughts that you would never admit you had.

"I need to pee, and brush my teeth," you whined, not wanting to be in bed with morning breath.

"You coming back?" he asked with his eyes still closed.

"Yeah, I just need to pee," you nodded your head and he unwrapped his arms from you. Your body immediately missing being in his warm embrace.

"There's an extra toothbrush on the bottom cabinet, now hurry up, I'm getting cold," he said shooing you off and you walked inside his bathroom and did your business.

Only to find him staring at you when you came out.

"What?"

"You look cute in my clothes," he said with a sheepish smirk on his face, causing you to blush.

"Shut up, Bailey," you said and crawled back into bed.

"You smell good," he said as he pulled you into him.

"Thanks, I tried, and I also had perfume in my purse so I sprayed some last night," you yawned and had hatred at the ceiling.

"Going back to sleep?" he asked and you shook your head.

"I can't, once I wake up I can't go back, and I have class at 12," you sighed, then it hit you that you had class and no car, "Oh my God, I have class," you groaned and he chuckled.

"I'll take, what time is it?" he asked, his voice more awake than before.

"No, no it's okay, I'll take an uber or something," you shook your head and he said no.

"I'll take you, taking an Uber isn't always safe," he said getting up from the bed before you could protest.

(We'll pretend that Stanford isn't 5 hours from LA)

"Thank you, Gray," you thanked him as he pulled up in front of the building.

"It's no problem Y/N, What time do you need to be picked up?" he asked as you got out the car and looked back inside.

"At three, but it's okay," you smiled and he nodded his head.

"I'll come pick you up, I'll be right here when you come out," he sent you a smile and your heart melted.

"Why are you so nice? But I'll see you later Gray, I need to go," you said with a smile and left when he said bye and began walking to class.

"Who was that? And whose clothes are those?" your friend's voice asked from behind you making you turn around.

"Good Morning to you too, Alex. And no one, just a friend's," you shrugged and hugged her before pulling away and walking next to each other.

"Friends don't just wear each other's clothes and drive each other to class," she said and you rolled your eyes.

"Don't you have a video to make or something?" you asked before your phone started ringing, you checked the caller ID to see it was Grayson calling.

"Yeoo," you said after answering and bringing the phone up to your ear.

"Hey, you left your purse in my car, do you need it?" he asked and you let out a groan.

"No, it's okay. I don't even have my laptop in it so it's fine. I didn't even realize it," you sighed and heard him chuckle.

"Do you need it? I can go get it for you," he said and you shook your head with a smile.

"No Gray, it's okay, I'll be fine. I'll just type them on my phone,"

"Are you sure? I don't mind," he replied.

"I'm sure, it's not the first time. Now, I really gotta go, I'll see you later," you replied as your friend stared at you.

"OK, bye,"

"Bye," you whispered before hanging up and putting your phone in your pocket.

"So, Gray?" she asked and you shook your head letting out a 'here we go'

"Yes, Gray, and he's just a friend," you said shaking your head.

"Gray, Gray, Grayson? Grayson Dolan? From the party?" she asked and you nodded your head with a sigh.

"Yes, Grayson from the party," you said and she suddenly grabbed your shoulder stopping you in your tracks.

"Are you serious? Do you know who he is Y/N? He's loved by everyone," she said and you shrugged.

"And? He's just Grayson to me, just like you're just Alex to me. And like I said before we're just friends," you said and she sent you a lie telling you, you were lying.

"Where have you been these past two weekends? Whose clothes are you wearing? What does that mean? And called you to ask whether you need a computer or not?" she asked, causing you to roll your eyes.

"Yeah, we've been hanging out. And I only stayed the night because my car wasn't turning on, and he's just being nice Alex," you sighed making her drop it.

"Fine I'll drop it but one last thing, I've never seen you being so smiley and happy around a guy, you barely even talk to guys, so I'm just saying that maybe you like him.

"Of course I do! Have you seen the guy?" you exclaimed, "And he's so nice and everything, but he's way out of my league, and we just met three weeks ago," you said and she chuckled shaking her head?

"Y/N, it's clear that he likes you too, and he's not out of your league, no one has leagues Y/N. You just need to try and go for it, it's time you do," she said and you sighed.

"I know, but I don't want to get hurt, or hurt anyone else. And I've never been in a relationship, I don't know how this works," you sighed before finally entering the building and going to class.

"Your friend is here," she said and nodded her head towards the car she saw you get out of earlier.

"Thanks, I'll call you later yeah?" you said and she nodded her head before you began walking your own ways.

"Hi," you softly spoke as you got inside the car and put your seatbelt on.

"Hey, how was class?" he asked and began driving away.

"It was alright. Not that many notes, which I'm thankful for. What did you do?"

"I went back home, worked out then took a shower and a power nap, and helped edit a video, then we're gonna film later," he replied and you nodded your head.

The rest of the drive was spent talking as the radio played quietly in the background.

"Do you wanna be in the video?" he asked and you quickly shook your head playing with a pillow that was on the couch.

"Absolutely not sir, not that I don't like your videos, I rather stay behind the camera," you said and he nodded his head.

"What are you guys even doing?"

"A vlog, that's what we've been doing lately," Ethan responded and you nodded your head.

"And we're going somewhere and you're coming with us," Karolina said and you nodded your head.

"Ethan, don't touch that, it's poisonous," Grayson shouted at Ethan who was about to touch a plant.

Grayson decided it would've been a great idea to go hiking in a place they've never been to. Karolina told you Grayson thought he was a survival specialist after doing a couple of survival videos which made you laugh like crazy.

"Oww, something just bit me," you slightly shouted because it was hurting your ankle, you quickly looked down but there was nothing in sight.

"Are you ok? Where is it?" Grayson said quickly, moving to stand in front of you along with the rest.

"On my ankle, and it hurts," you softly replied and he crouched down, softly rolling up the bottom of your- well his joggers to look at your ankle.

"Well, nothing bit you, but it's a bee sting, are you allergic?" he asked and you shook your head with a sigh.

"No, I'm sorry for ruining your video," you sighed and he shook his head.

"You didn't ruin it Y/N, we need to put something cold on it, and you need to take Tylenol or something," he reassured you, and you nodded your head.

"It's okay, I can still walk….I think," you said and looked down at your ankle that was swelling up wicked fast.

But when you couldn't walk you let out a groan, causing Ethan to snicker.

"Oh my fucking God, stupid ass bee, that's why you fucking die, bitch," you said and Ethan laughed.

"I'll just carry you on my back,"

"See I did ruin your video because now we have to leave because of a fucking bee," you exclaimed and Ethan shook his head.

"You didn't ruin it, I don't even want to be here anymore, so thank you," he said, earning a glare from you and a playful smack from Karolina.

"I'm glad my suffering brings you joy Ethan," you sarcastically said.

"Okay, Y/N, you need to let us keep this part," Ethan said, replaying the part where you kept saying something bit you.

"Okay but why?"

"Because it's funny, plus your voice and laugh is throughout the entire video so why not?" he replied and Karolina brought you a bottle of water.

"Why is everyone in this house so fucking nice?" you asked, causing her to laugh.

Two days later the swelling in your ankle was better, you could walk, Grayson forced you to stay in his house, saying it was his fault for wanting to go hiking, you protested, but that's when you learned that Grayson was as stubborn as they came.

"Grayson, I'm fine, I can walk now, look," you said and walked around the room to show him.

"I know, but I just- I don't want you to go," he said causing your heart to melt and a blush to spread on your cheeks.

"Gray, I can always come over, I'm your friend, I'm not just going away," you said and walked back to sit on his bed.

"But I don't want to be just friends anymore," he said and walked towards you standing in front of you.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, that I've been holding these thoughts since the second week of knowing you. You told me that I would know she's the one because I would feel it, And that once I settle she would come into my life for good and that's you," he spoke rather loudly from the emotions he was feeling, while you were frozen in your spot. "I told Ethan I was taking a break from trying to find her, and then you came along, and told me all those wise words, and I feel like it's you. You randomly became a big part of my life, and I just needed to tell you that and that  I like you, it's okay if you don't feel the same,"

"Gray, I like you too, I just didn't know how to tell you. And I thought you wouldn't have liked me back," you said with a smile and he sat down next to you, grabbing your hands in his.

"Y/N, you have been driving me insane, ever since I first saw you," he said causing you to playfully roll your eyes with a blush.

"So now what happens?" you asked.

"We just let it flow. I'm not going to force things to happen, just let the universe play out," he said and you nodded your head and laid your upper body on the bed while your legs were hanging.

"So, does that mean you're staying?" he asked, earning a chuckle from you.

"I don't know, I kinda need clothes,"

"You can wear my clothes, or I  can buy you more,"

"Buy? No sir, I can buy my own things,"

"But I want to buy you stuff," he said and you shook your head.

"I'm fine with wearing your shirts," you said and snuggled into the white shirt you were wearing, which was his, along with some biker shorts you had gotten from your apartment when he took you there to get some of your things.

"You do look cute in my clothes," he said and you could hear the smirk in his voice.

"Stop, I'm gonna blush," you laughed.

"I'm serious, you look so cute, I just wanna kiss you," he said and that must have triggered a switch in your brain because before you knew it, you were slowly climbing onto his lap, your arms wrapping around his neck while his wrapped around your waist.

"Do it," you whispered, your voice was confident but shaky from your nerves.

And after what felt like a lifetime, you felt his lips press against yours. Soft but rough, containing so much emotion, which you returned by kissing back.

You curled your finger along with the little curls on the back of his head and his fingers gripped your waist, digging deep inside your skin.

"God," he groaned once you slowly pulled away with a sly smile on your lips.

You didn't imagine for your first to be this way, but you wouldn't change a thing either.

"Can you drive me to my place? To get more clothes," you asked causing his smile to widen. You had taken your car to the shop, and it was going to be ready by tomorrow, making you depend on other people.

"So you're staying?" he asked and you nodded your head.

"Yeah, until my car's ready," you replied and he pouted.

"But that's tomorrow,"

"I know, it's also Sunday tomorrow which means it's cleaning day," you said climbing off his lap.

"Your place is clean tho," he said and you scoffed.

"And? That doesn't mean you can't clean, there's a thing called dust Grayson," you replied and he shook his head.

"I know what dust is Y/N, do you clean like every day," he said and you scratched the back of your head.  "You do?"

"I do, damm. Do you know how bad I wanted to clean this house in the last couple of days? It's not dirty it's just disorganized, for example, go look at your closet," you said and he walked towards his closet which you organized while he was working out.

"When did you do this?"

"When you went for your workout," you shrugged, you had color-coordinated everything from white to black, and made sure everything was straight and the longer pieces faded into the short ones and so on. (me af)

"You know it's getting messed up later right?" he asked, walking towards you and wrapping his arms around you.

"And that's why I'm staying another night," you smiled and leaned up, pressing your lips against his.

Tags:  @guiltydols@angelgrayson@fangdolan@ydolanssss@aquadolan@atlas-of-a-human-soul@blindedbythelightt@rhyrhy462@333dolans@dolanissues@graysonsdollface@persistence-ofmemories@evergreendolan@episkygrant@graysonsbailey@simplyxdolxstyles@dolansficsandpics@kinkygrays@babeygray@tadadolan@pineappledols@erodasugar

[teriwrites]

Swindler of Fortune

The coin wells were empty.

I stared dumbly into the cash register. They’d been full that morning, that much I was certain of. I myself had blindly emptied several rolls in my mad dash to open the store on time. 

What can I say? Even wizards sleep in sometimes.

But business had been slow, and even on heavy days, we usually didn’t get enough cash transactions to clear out the whole register. 

“Natalie?” I called, hoping she hadn’t left for the night.

I didn’t suspect her of stealing, of course, but she usually handled the front during weekdays. Thankfully, she was still in the back. I watched the doors swing open, and her bun bobbed just over the tops of shelves as she made her way over. 

“What’s up?” she asked as she reached the front, leaning down onto the counter to meet me at eye level. I rolled my eyes at the gesture.

“Did somebody exchange a large bill for coins?” I motioned towards the empty wells. “Because we’re all out.”

Natalie frowned as she pushed herself upright. “No. I actually had to empty a roll of quarters about an hour before closing. Why, have we been robbed?”

“If we were, it was by the dumbest thief alive.” As Natalie cocked an eyebrow, I went on. “All the bills are accounted for.”

For several moments, we puzzled over it, but it was late, and I think we both knew no questions were going to be answered without effort. And that wasn’t happening after closing. This was a problem for another day.

So I dumped a couple new rolls into the register and decided to call it a night.

The next day was a Friday, which meant more business. After a quick check to confirm that the coins were still in their place, I flipped the sign on the door to ‘Open’ and welcomed the start of a new day. 

Natalie was working inventory, so she hung in the back while I held down the front of the store. Rolling up the sleeves of my cardigan, I took in a deep breath and channeled my Manager alter ego - a mix of Customer Service feigned cheer with enough of an edge to hold some of the more entitled customers at bay. 

Our first customer rolled in around 9:30. My back was turned as the bell rang out, but the excitement emanating from Nathaniel as he ran laps around my back clued me into their identity.

I spun on my heel to see an old man wrapped up in dark furs and a matching cap step over the threshold. A green parrot sat on his shoulder, wearing its own tiny hat.

“Mike!” My Customer Service smile eased into a genuine grin as I greeted one of my favorite regulars.

“Ms. Kim, hello!” When Mike spoke, it was with his familiar, thick Russian accent. I wasn’t sure exactly when he had immigrated to Canada, but he’d been coming into the store as long as I could remember, back when I was just a kid helping my dad restock shelves. Even back then, he’d struck me as remarkably old. 

“I haven’t heard from you in awhile. I was beginning to fear the worst.” It was a half-joke, but before the mood could darken, I shook my head dramatically. “I thought you might’ve decided to turn to one of our competitors.”

Mike chuckled as he pulled his hat from his head, but his parrot cut in before he could protest. “Enough with the pleasantries! We’re here on business!”

Nathaniel had run down the length of my sleeve and was tugging it down my arm to press closer to the bird. I leaned forward onto the counter, and the parrot eyed my embroidered dragon cautiously.

“That’s a cute hat you got there, Charon.” I shot the parrot a wink and pushed myself back up. “What is it I can get for you today, Mike?”

“Do you have any tongue of frog in stock?” he asked as he brushed snow from his hat. 

I wasn’t sure, but I promised to check in with Natalie. As I made my way back to the storage room, I found her crouched in one of the aisles, gathering some nonalcoholic liquid courage to restock.

“Hey, do you have any tongue of frog marked up on there?”

The face Natalie made answered my question. “You actually stock frog tongues?”

“Spells, enchanted items, charms - ”

“Whatever your wandering, wayfaring wizard may need, I know,” she finished, nodding along dramatically. “But frog tongues?”

“If you heard all of the ingredients that go into those bottles” - I nudged my chin towards the liquid courage - “it’d make your hair curl. Not that it needs the help.”

Natalie smacked me with her clipboard before jutting her hand out for some help up. 

I had been working alongside Natalie for a few months now, but there were still areas of the store that I hadn’t acquainted her with. Some wizards would’ve scrunched up their noses at my more repellent products, so I was not keen to show them off to an unprepared Typic. 

Most potion ingredients sat in a medicine cabinet towards the front of the store, but it could hardly fit everything. The rest was tucked away into a side room - a pantry, really - hiding in the back corner. Pulling my keyring from my pocket, I shuffled through several before I landed on the right one.

Dust had collected on most of the shelves in the pantry. I had no excuse for its state; there simply wasn’t enough of a reason to come back here unless someone requested it. A single, flickering lightbulb hanging from the ceiling dimly lit the small space. 

I turned away from Natalie to fetch the jar labeled ‘tongue of frog’. After I’d snatched it up, I looked back to see her curiously scanning the shelves. Before I could say anything, her hand darted out and grabbed something. 

Holding it out to me, I could barely make out its label: newt eyes.

“Other friends of yours?” she joked.

I brushed past her as she replaced the jar on the shelf. “Of yours, actually.”

Carrying the jar back to the front, I watched as Mike perused some of the inventory up front with vague amusement. Charon was whispering something in his ear. Evidently it was something rude; Mike reprimanded the bird harshly in Russian.

“One tongue of frog,” I announced as I stepped behind the counter. 

“You have new merchandise, Ms. Kim,” Mike pointed out as he dug through his pockets. “I didn’t even know there were spells for maintaining battery life.”

“Yeah, well, some companies intentionally provide weak batteries to make you replace your phone after a couple years. This cheat seems the lesser of the two evils.” I rested my elbows on the top of the register as I watched Mike stack the contents of his pocket onto the countertop. Books, empty potion bottles, a pair of gloves. After withdrawing a black notebook with an engraved monogram and a full-sized human skull, he finally pulled out his wallet.

I had to ask him what spell he used to get that kind of pocket space. 

“Working another case?” I nodded at the notebook as I rang up his order. “I thought you’d retired, Mike.”

“I owed an old colleague a favor,” Mike admitted gruffly. “The police asked him for assistance on a case, and he referred them to me.”

He sounded none too happy about it. 

Mike passed me cash, and I opened the register. As soon as the drawer sprung open, I realized with a jolt that the change was missing again. Surely, nobody could’ve snatched it up without being seen. I could’ve trusted Mike with the entire store while I was in the back, and Natalie had been with me the entire time. 

“Is there a problem?” Mike asked, straightening up to peer over the counter.

I unlocked the cupboard with extra change and fished out a roll of loonies. “No problem, just ran out of change.”

I handed over his change and the jar without a bag, knowing he wouldn’t need one. When he’d taken both from me, he simply slid them into his pockets. With a quick nod and a small lift of his cap, Mike stepped back out into the cold. 

Only after Mike had left did I notice Natalie crouching by the first row of shelves. She clutched her clipboard to her chest, staring in horror at the door the old man had just left through.

“Was that man carrying a human skull?”

I dismissed her concern with a wave of my hand. “Mike’s a necromancer. That’s pretty normal for him.”

My reassurance might’ve eased Natalie’s nerves, but they simply shifted from fear into disgust. “Aren’t those people supposed to raise the dead and all that? Gross.”

“It’s a little more delicate than that. There’s a whole structure of ethical guidelines in that field. Full revival is prohibited, so usually it’s just gathering details on how the person died. I don’t know the ins and outs of it, though. I’ve never had the stomach for that stuff.”

“So you’re telling me there’s a whole slew of magical careers out there, and I got stuck working for the shopkeep?” 

I rolled my eyes as I walked away, leaving Natalie laughing on the floor. 

Saturday morning, I arrived extra early at the store. I told myself it was to make up for the fact that Natalie only worked weekdays and I would be running everything myself. But really, the first thing I did when I arrived was beeline for the cash register.

Everything had been in place the night before. After Mike’s incident, nothing had gone missing, and the rest of the day ran smoothly. I was secretly hoping that the problem would go away on its own if I just refused to acknowledge it. But I could only lose so many more rolls before making another trip to the bank, and I’m pretty sure the teller I always ran into was a vampire. Either that or there was some other reason he always stared at my neck when I was making deposits. 

Either way, not an experience I was eager to have again.

My key slid into the lock for the register, and I made a silent wish as I twisted it open.

The coin wells were empty.

I let out a frustrated shout as I tore the key out of the lock. This couldn’t keep happening. My store did well - my spot in downtown Trelis earned me good foot traffic, and our regulars were loyal - but I couldn’t afford the constant losses. 

There was only one answer. I would have to investigate. If I kept a careful eye on the full register, the thief would have to reveal themselves eventually. 

To refill the coins, I opened up the cupboard, only to find that it, too, had been ransacked. Every roll of coins had been torn to shreds, with scraps of paper left littering the cabinet. 

I felt bad for texting Natalie on her day off, but I had no other choice. I couldn’t both look into a robbery and ring up transactions. So, whipping out my phone, I shot her a text asking if she’d be able to make it down the store, preferably before it opened.

Fifteen minutes later, Natalie was at the front door, rapping against the glass. I unlocked it for her.

“More was taken?” she asked, pulling her mittens from her hands.

“Both the register and the cupboard are empty.” I groaned, draping myself over the front counter. “I’m at a loss.”

What kind of thief was this, who would ignore the higher-value bills and waste time tearing through paper to get at the coins? Who could somehow get around the store without being seen? Were we dealing with an advanced invisibility spell? Some pocket portal that could reach directly into the register? A clever magpie?

I dragged myself over the counter, nearly hitting my head against the back cabinet as I clambered ungracefully down. Landing in a heap on the ground, I found myself staring closeup at a pencil shaving. I frowned; the only pencils we kept in the front were mechanical. 

Sitting up, I pinched the tiny shaving from the ground and ran it between my fingers. It was then that I realized my mistake. The scrap wasn’t a pencil shaving, it was one of the shreds of torn paper from the cabinet. 

Natalie yelped as I threw myself back to the ground, eyes close to the floor. A moment passed in silence as I scanned for more shreds of paper. Though Natalie kept quiet, I could feel her piecing together what I’d found. 

She found the next scrap, pointing to it with her foot. As we began to follow a small trail of torn paper, I scurried along at a crawl. Less inclined to make a fool of herself, Natalie chose to walk.

The paper led to the back of the store, into a small hole in the wall that I’d never noticed, half-hidden behind a shelf. I didn’t dare reach into it, but shining the flashlight from my phone revealed only a long tunnel. Something glinted from a distance, but it was too far to make anything out. Whatever was back there was hidden somewhere in the wall of the potion pantry. 

It took a minute to find the key for the pantry, and another several to scan along the wall. But I finally found what I was looking for. Really, I shouldn’t take the credit. Natalie found it, helping me push aside a cabinet to reveal the door to a crawl space I’d never seen before. 

It was easy to overlook, a tiny door tucked away into the back corner of a room I rarely entered. But I immediately recognized with some satisfaction that its lock seemed to match a key on my keyring. The only key I’d never found a use for. It had always been there, since my father had wielded the ring, but I’d never thought to ask him what it was for. 

Now, with certainty, I tugged the key loose and shoved it into the lock.

Sure enough, the key turned, and, with Natalie flashing her phone towards the crawl space, I tugged the door open.

Sitting inside, on a veritable mountain of spare change, was a dragon the size of a coffee mug. 

I froze, not exactly sure how to react. Behind me, Natalie dropped her phone, and the dim lighting in the room was only enough to catch a glimpse of its sleek scales. After a second to recover from the shock, I began to move.

I’ve faced my fair share of house pests, and this was no different. Throwing my arm behind me, I latched onto the handle of a broom that had collected more dust sitting in its corner than it had ever swept in its life. Keeping my eyes trained on the dragon, I brought it forwards and prodded lightly at the small reptile.

The dragon snapped at the broom, as I’d expected. Natalie was apparently less prepared; I could hear the jars clinking lightly as she backed into a cabinet. As the little pest’s jaw clenched down, I carefully lifted it from its hoard. 

“Get me an empty jar,” I whispered over my shoulder.

Natalie fetched one, and hurried out of the room as soon as I’d taken it. The jug was large enough to fit the dragon snugly, but it would hold the thing until I could find a place to let it loose.

Out in the light of the store, I inspected the little pest. He had dark, reddish-brown scales and golden eyes that shone with what I could’ve mistaken for intelligence. As I studied him, he seemed to be sizing me up as well.

Natalie, having overcome her shock and seeing that the dragon was contained, ran over. With wide eyes, she reached out and tapped a finger against the glass. The dragon turned to her, staring up with what I swear was feigned innocence.

“We should keep him!” 

It was just about the last thing I expected to come out of her mouth.

“You want to keep a dragon?” I needed to get my hearing checked. Wasn’t this the woman that had nearly screamed on spotting the little guy only a minute ago?

“He’s adorable!” she insisted, reaching out to take the jar from me. “I’ve never seen a real dragon before. I was always told they don’t exist.”

What else didn’t Typics know existed? Did they think pigeons were fake, too?

“We could keep him in the shop, and he could help guard the door!” Natalie suggested, beaming like she was holding a newborn puppy. She was already tenderly cradling the jar. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

“Guard us from what?” I demanded. “The only thief I’ve had since I took over this store is him.”

But I knew from Natalie’s enraptured expression that she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

I had heard of dragons being domesticated before. They were said to make excellent pets, given proper care. But there was no telling which breed this one was. Knowing my luck, he’d grow into a five-meter beast that’d fill up a whole aisle. 

“I’m calling him Midas,” Natalie announced.

And I knew any arguing was hopeless.

We now had a guard dragon.

[juliepop]

New Years Resolutions

New Years Resolutions

[Miragehound Fic] AO3 Link: here

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences (

A/N): Wow, who doesnt post for a year and comes back just to drop some fluff? Me. Hi, I've had a really shitty year and I needed to write something to make myself feel better. This is dedicated to I. They're the person who pulled me out of a really dark spot and encouraged me to take time for myself and write a little.

Summary: Elliott was taking this New Years Resolution List making seriously, or he would be if Renee wasn't insistent on ruining everything. A new addition on his little list was becoming increasingly hard to ignore. 

"You're really funny, hysterical even," Elliott grumbled, snatching his list of Renee's hands before she could deface it anymore. She frowned at him as he crumpled it a little before curiosity got the better of him, he had to know what was written. Glancing down, Elliott almost choked at her little addition before he made sure this time to make a paper ball and hurled it at her head.

Renee caught it, of course. Pesky voices not even letting him get away with his dignity as she tossed it back, and it bounced off his chest when he wasn't fast enough to catch it. That was totally cheating.

"Elliott Witt, you are a baby."

"You're a baby," Elliott mocked, snatching his paper off the floor because he just cleaned that, and there was no way he would live down someone finding that as he tucked it in his back pocket for safekeeping.

Renee, to her credit, only bared her teeth at him, the little gremlin pointing a finger at him as if she could tell he was calling her names in his head before she pulled the concerned mom face. Shit. "What are you so afraid of? Out of everyone else I've seen Bloodhound interact with, you're the only person I've seen who they let pet their bird. The worst thing they can say is no."

"Uh, are you forgetting who we're talking about? This is the person we watched take five knives out of nowhere once, five. I'm pretty sure they had more, but it only took five of them before the security gave up and just let them pass."

That was a pleasant memory; Elliott could vividly recall how the devs had demanded all the legends stop sneaking weapons onto the dropship and set up a metal detector. Bloodhound set it off every single time they walked through, and for every attempt, they pulled out yet another wickedly long hunting knife from their coat until finally, the security guard gave up. It was a little funny at the time, maybe even a tiny bit sexy, but Elliott wouldn't ever admit to that. Probably. "What if my conf-confec-ugh. What if I say my feelings and they get offended? I'm too pretty to die."

"Pretty annoying, yeah," Renee muttered; Elliott made an offended noise before she reached out to set a hand on his arm. "Elliott, they're not going to stab you for having feelings. I mean, if they don't already know. You're kind of obvious."

"Me? I am so subtle!"

Renee stared at him for a moment, her gaze going from the top of his perfectly styled curls, the sleek yellow silk shirt that sparkled under the lights with every movement, the black leather pants and his designer ankle boots before staring him in the face.

"...okay, I meant I'm subtle about my feelings."

"You shot yourself in the foot the last time you teamed up with them because they complimented your wingman shot; you cracked your shield, Elliott. That isn't subtle."

He had done that.

Elliott winced at the memory, having taken down Bang's team with a few well-placed shots, and the next thing he knew, Bloodhound was clapping him on the shoulder. Murmuring how he'd done a powerful slatra of the enemy, and Elliott had tried to play it off, spinning his wingman around his finger to holster except the safety wasn't on. He'd struck his foot, the loud crack of his shield startling everyone there, and he wanted to die a little when they'd sweetly offered him a battery,

"Renee, you promised you wouldn't bring that up."

"It was on national television, Elliott. You were viral for a long time."

Over two million hits in one day, it was impressive and mortifying all at once.

"Listen, my main concern for the night is having this party go well. We can talk about that after. It's not like they're going to be here anyway, you know Bloodhound doesn't do parties."

"If they show, you have to tell them." Renee bartered, Elliott trying not to grin in victory because he was right. They never did parties, they were forced into one party a year for the anniversary of the games, and that was all.

"Deal."

Elliott Witt was wrong and stupid.

Bloodhound did come, they showed up precisely on time, and Elliott had nearly cried right then and there because they even greeted him softly at the door.

"Hallo, Mirage."

"Heh-ha-heeeeey, Hound! How's it hanging?" Smooth Elliott, really smooth.

They only offered a nod, mysterious and masked like always, and they smelt faintly of firewood, gunmetal and pine. Which is to say, Elliott was sniffing them, stepping close to offer a hand to shake as they wrapped leather-covered fingers around his and squeezed. "You want a tour?"

"Nei, I think I will find myself a place. Thank you, though, Mirage."

"Hey, we're outta the ring. You can call me Elliott."

"You look...nice." They muttered, the words so faint they're almost lost amidst the chattering of legends and music, but Elliott was focused solely on them. Just hearing the compliment made something in his stomach flutter, Elliott unable to stop himself from laughing softly in surprise and rubbing a hand over his beard, pretending he could rub the colour flooding his cheeks.

Elliott had heard compliments all night, some of them about the party decor, the food, or even his outfit, but this was the one that really made him feel something. He was a little bashful, fingers lingering against theirs as he slid his hand away reluctantly before offering a delighted grin. "I think you look really nice too."

"Takk," Bloodhound murmured, the moment interrupted as Octane yelled something about beer pong, and Elliott turned his head to make sure the idiot wasn't breaking anything when Bloodhound took that moment to leave.

When he faced forward again, they were gone, having found the armchair he'd tucked off to the side of the room to make space for the dancefloor and settling in. Elliott hadn't actually intended that chair to be a spot, it was blocked off by tall potted ferns lining the dance floor, but if that's where they felt most comfortable, that was okay.

He was just really pleased they even came.

Then less pleased when he heard Lifeline scream Octane's name before Elliott heard a deafening crash. Seriously ??

Two broken tables, a broken chair, and a cracked window later and Elliott was exhausted. Offering an open bar to a bunch of people who liked chasing each other and murdering their friends was dicey, it seemed alcohol brought out the crazy. Octane wanted to jump off things, Bangalore was drunk as a skunk and offering to fistfight people, and at one point, Rev had scuttled along the ceiling, and someone had screamed.

Okay, Elliott had screamed. Who the fuck does that? What the fuck does that? It must have been illegal somewhere.

Thankfully there were some ordinary people though, Gibby had brought along a special friend who seemed like an average person who didn’t want to break things. The dude was even kinda funny, and he had a knack for making the big guy laugh loudly, I mean, he totally wasn't as amusing as Elliott, but he was alright.

Even Crypto, the bitter old man had shown up, shamed into silence by sweet angel Nat when he tried to pick a fight with Elliott. A battle Ellie would have totally won, hands down. Stupid Crypie.

Midnight was coming up fast, though, and everyone seemed to be split off into their little groups, which was kinda nice. Octane was playing DJ and entertaining Ajay, Anita, Ramp, Loba, and Path. Crypto had struck up a conversation with Nat and Renee in a corner, the three of them looking real serious about something. Even Doctor Somers was there, she was talking to Caustic of all people, but those two seemed to be hitting it off and Elliott was only a little envious. Rev was nowhere to be seen thankfully or not thankfully. Elliott cast a glance up in fear, a little relieved when he didn't see the murder bot hanging there like a spider.

Then there was Elliott; he was taking his host duties really seriously and restocking the cute little finger food trays when he felt a hand land on his shoulder, Renee was reaching to steal an appetizer. She leaned against the table, expression a lot more relaxed than Elliott had ever seen her, and there was the faintest drunken flush across her cheeks as she cast a glance to Nat and Crypto. "So, I took your advice, and Natalie said she'd love to be my new year's kiss."

"Wait, my advice worked? You took it??" Elliott tried to very subtly show his approval for his friend, laughing and dragging Renee into a hug that she slapped out of with an annoyed noise.

He knew she secretly loved it though, her mouth quirking up at the corners while she tried to hide the almost smile. "I mean of course it worked. I am not just pretty; I'm clever."

"I guess sometimes you have good ideas. Maybe you should take my advice too then, ten minutes left until the new year and I know you haven't told them."

"Awh c'mon, Renee. You know I can't just march over there and do that, I have finger foods to resto—"

'Fuck the host duties, Elliott." Renee growled; Elliott was a little surprised to hear the gremlin swear before she forcibly took the tray from his hands and he was left staring in shock at his drunk friend. Well, he was staring down in shock. She was the size of a pissed off toddler. "Go talk to them. Now. You have five minutes before I march over there and bring them to you."

"You wouldn't--" Elliott started, stopping when he saw the look in her eyes and yeah, he thought she just might. Peeking over to see if anyone was listening, Elliott froze when he noticed Bloodhound's mask was pointed in his direction before he blinked and shook it off.

Of course they weren't looking at him, he was just in the middle of the room, and that's how they were sitting. Inhaling sharply through his nose, Elliott turned back and looked at Renee, who started picking at the food on the tray and stuffing her face. "I'm scared."

"I promise I'll watch over you two, make sure they don't pull out a knife."

"Haha, really funny. You're hilarious; you know that, right?"

"You're stalling. Four minutes now." Renee murmured, Elliott swallowing hard as he realized that there is a limited amount of time left, and he cleared his throat before asking real quietly if he looked okay. Renee's gaze softened, reaching up to smooth his collar for a second before she smiled crookedly. "You're a knockout, Elliott. Now go."

So he went.

Elliott tried to quiet his racing heart down as he walked, talking himself up in his head as he kept his gaze glued to his boots. He looked great, and Bloodhound was a...they were a friend. Everything would be okay, he would go over there, chat them up a little, and he could inform Renee he tried to tell them but it didn't work out. Easy.

His palms were sweating as Elliott walked up, aware he'd reached the point of no return as he saw the bottom edge of the ferns before he jerked his head up and caught sight of them again.

Bloodhound had tucked their chair even further behind the potted plants, hidden by their little jungle but he could see they were comfortable. They'd taken off their hunting coat, the jacket casually laid over the back of the armchair, and that left them in an oversized sweatshirt that did nothing to hide how broad their shoulders were as Bloodhound cocked their head at him.

They were wearing some kind of layered outfit, a turtle neck that covered their neck completely and a baggier layer over it that mostly obscured their body from view with matching pants and thick sole boots.

Overhead, Elliott had strung up fairy lights for the room's lighting, rows and rows of soft white lights glinting off their goggles and the metal parts of their mask as Bloodhound watched him draw closer. His mouth was bone dry, tongue trying to smooth over his lips, but Elliott felt like that didn't help as he took a shallow breath before clearing his throat.

Be cool.

"H-hh-hi Bloodhound!"

"Hello, Mirage," Bloodhound answered; Elliott was telling himself they did not intentionally sound soft just for him. He only ever heard them talk in the ring; Bloodhound tended to murmur commands there, and discussed creative ways to kill their fellow legends instead of small talk. The rare moments he saw them not in a tense situation were few and far between, not for his lack of trying though. Bloodhound wasn’t a big talker, they kinda tended to offer up two-word answers and stared a lot. It was cute.

Elliott liked how their accent sounded like this, though, casual and soft. Like they were having an intimate conversation, instead of Elliott stuttering over basic words and bothering them like was currently happening.

"Are you uh, do you like the party?"

"It has been an experience." They answer after a moment, the faintest hint of something lurking in their tone as they nod toward the gathering legends with their gazes glued to the holoscreen with a large timer counting down. Shit, two minutes. "I do not attend most events, but I wished to accept your invitation for this."

"Oh, I'm glad you came," Elliott says, hoping his sincerity rings through as he glances at the dwindling amount of time until the new year before he looks back. "I know parties aren't your thing, but it makes me happy you're here."

Their blank mask doesn't change, there's no discernible way Elliott can even tell what's going on behind it, but he swears he feels them smile at him for a moment. It's kind of like being trapped in a cold dark room for years and stepping outside for the first time, feeling the warmth of the sun against your face and letting it soak into your frigid core.

His mouth curved upward, returning what he hoped was a smile from them and not Elliott developing a sudden fever or something when Octane broke the moment with a shout.

"One more minute, amigos!"

"What? That went by so fast!" Elliott sputtered, caught off guard by everything as everyone behind readies themselves.

"So it did. Do you wish to go join them for the countdown?" Bloodhound asked, nodding toward the gathering crowd of legends standing near the holoscreen and readying up their party poppers and chattering. Elliott glanced over, seeing everyone seemed to be paired up already, smiling faces turned toward the timer slowly ticking down. He almost jumped when he turned back, realizing Bloodhound was standing with their coat back on magically and looked like they were ready to go.

"Are you leaving?" Elliott blurted out, unable to stop himself from sounding disappointed as he hears everyone behind counting down from twenty.

"I do not wish to keep you longer."

"Ten, nine, eight… "

"Keep me? I'd love if you kept me."

“Mirage…”

"...Four, three, two, one! Happy New Year! "

Behind everyone breaks out in cheers, the sound of fireworks going off muffled behind the thick glass panes of the windows to the side, but they still make colours dance across the room as the legends all set off their party poppers.

Bloodhound and Elliott both watch everyone breaking off in couples, Elliott laughing when he saw Octane drag Ajay into a kiss only to get slapped a few moments later, the medic calling him a grabby jackass. He sighed wistfully, surprised when Bloodhound put a hand on his shoulder.

"Is something wrong?"

"Usually, my New Years' kiss is my mom; it sucks being so far away from home."

"A kiss is a..tradition?" They ask slowly, head tilting in that distractingly cute way, and Elliott laughs a little at how lost they sound.

"Yeah, it's about str-stren-ugh, making ties with people stronger and stuff. That or not being lonely all year." Elliott answered, gesturing to the other legends, who were either kissing or hugging one another.

The fireworks outside were still going off, shooting various colours into the sky, but that was all hard to keep track of when Bloodhound used their hand on his shoulder to pull him behind the ferns. "Uh, Hound?"

Bloodhound's hand moved from his shoulder to the back of his neck, Elliott inhaling sharply as they yanked their respirator down, and his brain kind of shut down when their lips pressed against his. They tasted like orange juice, he realized, Bloodhound already drawing away and Elliott kind of flounders at the idea that his only kiss with Bloodhound was going to be a peck, before he wound his arms around their neck and he pulled them closer.

They gasp, fingers squeezing the back of his neck in surprise, and Elliott closes his eyes and kisses them for all he's worth. Bloodhound is stiff at first, and that's the moment he wondered if they were gonna stab him for pushing a boundary when they slowly softened and hesitantly moved their mouth under his. It felt like they were trying to copy his movements, Elliott sparing a second to wonder if maybe they didn't have a lot of experience before he thinks fuck it and licks against the closed seam of their lips.

Bloodhound shudders in his arms, lips parting on a shaky sigh, and Elliott takes advantage to lick past their teeth, and it's extra confirmed they were drinking juice all night when he gets an actual taste. It's endearing and hot, and all the positive things he can't think of at the moment because he was currently kissing Bloodhound like his life depended on it. Honestly, it just might if this pissed them off.

They gradually relaxed further though, the hands that were gripping his neck and now balled in his shirt as Elliott rocks up on his toes to press against them fully. They were a little taller than him, something he was secretly thrilled about as his hands slid from their neck and down their arms for a moment when Bloodhound pulled away with a soft gasp.

They were breathing hard, Elliott cursing the fact they were tucked away in such a dark corner because he could only see part of their face and the parts he almost made out were gorgeous. Kiss swollen lips, faint spiderwebs of scars laced along their cheeks and jaw, and—

"Hound?" Elliott asked concerned when they sounded like they were choking between pants, a hand lifting as if to ward him off for a moment as they lifted their respirator back in place to take a measured breath with a soft hiss. It's then that it connects that they might need the thing, Elliott parting his lips on an apology when they use the hand they were holding in front of him to cup his cheek instead. Leather rubs over his cheekbone softly, Bloodhound breathing deeper breaths from their respirator and he settles down.

"Do not worry, vinur. I was surprised; you had taken my breath."

Now Elliott knew they meant literally, but he couldn't help the soft smile curling his lips at the idea of Bloodhound calling him breathtaking as he leans into their palm for a second. He was still worried, but already they seemed to be back to normal as he could see the deep and even breaths they were taking. "You took my breath too, but in a good way. I uhm, I don't know if you meant the kiss to be romantic, but I--"

"It was meant to convey romantic feelings, yes." They interrupt, their tone brooking no argument, and Elliott gapes at them like a big dumb fish for a second before they rub a gloved thumb over his bottom lip, and he snaps his mouth closed with a flush. "I apologize for using your tradition for such a thing, but I could not let the opportune moment pass."

"I u-uh, y-yha- uh." God, he was choking so hard. Elliott felt his face heat more, cursing his stutter as he blabbered more broken consonants before taking a sharp breath and recalling something. Reaching into his back pocket Elliott takes out the crumpled paper, holding it out to Bloodhound, who glances at it before delicately accepting and smoothing it out. When they get to the last line, he can see fingers tightening on the paper before they raise their head to look at him.

"I like you; please date me." Elliott manages to get out, almost impressed by how smooth that came out, considering he was blubbering random noises a second ago. Bloodhound doesn't answer right away, well, verbally anyway.

A hand settles back on his face, Bloodhound already pulling their respirator down again, and this time Elliott is very ready for the kiss they plant on him. Unknown to either of them, Renee is watching, holding out a twenty-dollar bill, which Natalie takes gleefully.

"For someone who can see the future, you are quite bad at bets."

"I blame Elliott; he's too slow."

"The hand on Bloodhound's butt says otherwise," Crypto mutters, gagging into his drink and Renee can't help but smirk a little. Yeah, she was definitely going to tell Elliott about that later. Maybe after he finished making out with his new date-mate, the trio tilting their heads as they watched Elliott shove Bloodhound against the wall, and Renee swiftly put a hand over Natalie's eyes when it gets a lot more R-rated.

Maybe she would hold off telling him until tomorrow. They looked like they would be busy for a while.

Renee’s mouth ticks up into a smile.

Finally.

[awesomerextyphoon]

Charred Briar Roses - 3

Curse’s Broken, Now What?

Summary: The title speaks for itself. 

Parings: Orc!Bucky x Black!Reader, Orc!Steve x Black!OFC, Orc!Sam x Black!OFC

Word Count: 4,136

Warnings: Implied Smut and Some Violence

A/N: This was longer than I anticipated. Also, the princesses would be a US size 14/15. I totally forgot to mention that earlier. Sorry about that. Enjoy!

Back to Masterlist

Instead of spending 600 years in total darkness, you communicated with your sisters in a pretty well constructed dream version of the palace. You thought of new inventions and fighting moves, reconciled with Ghada about your fight the day of the curse, and kept analyzing what happened in the north west tower.

If felt like you were in the dream world for about a month.

You were talking with your sisters about trivial childhood memories when all of you felt arms around your bodies. Your surroundings started to fade and so did your sisters.

You felt chapped yet soft lips kiss your neck and lips. It was surprisingly nice, like a dream.

You opened your eyes and realized three things: Someone was actually kissing you, you weren’t in the tower, and the person kissing you wasn’t the prince that your mother had all but assured you but an admittedly hot (albeit ruggedly, your core notes) orc-human hybrid.

You and your sisters screamed.

You immediately try to push him away but he wouldn’t budge. That scared you because both you and your sisters could bench about five tons thanks to Doireann, the war fairy who blessed and trained you in combat since the age of three.

You punched him with a right jab once he broke for air. Couldn’t even get him off the bed.

He chuckled and rubbed his strong jaw and said what seemed to be a compliment in Orcish as you nursed your knuckles.

“I said that you’re quite feisty for a human princess.” He repeated in Common Tongue.

You saw that your sisters had similar reactions to their kissers. Fumnanya even threw a shoe at the one that would be later called Sam. The others got a laugh out of it.

After everyone settled down, we shared our names while you were trying not jump Bucky, the warrior who kissed you.

“So, I was wondering, do you know what year it is?” Fumnanya inquired in a mousy tone that she uses with strangers.

Steve was it, yeah Steve rubbed the back of his head, “How to put this. You’ve been asleep for 600 years. Just about everyone thinks you’re a myth. Hell, we wouldn’t have believed it if we weren’t right in front of you.”

He then provided updates on what happed after your birthdays, but you were only half listening. Your dumb fight with Ghada and your damn curiosity cost you and your sisters your friends, family, and life.

You wanted to cry, but Ghada motioned you to join her and Fumnanya in a huddle. You spoke in Nephrashim as to not alert the warriors.

The three of you knew that Sophronius was up to no good and it was odd that he was still alive since the average lifespan was 300 years due to the Nephrashim Crystal.

“We need to convince them to take us outside of the city since I’m guessing the spell Etna put on us to keep Y/N from skipping class is still in place.”

You rolled your eyes at Ghada snide comment.

“We take what need in whatever storage device Y/N has in her ‘secret workshop’!” Fumnanya chimed in.

“Hey-“

“We all knew where it is, sis. You’re not fooling anyone.” Ghada deadpanned while you huffed in frustration.

With that, the three of you rejoined the group and offered to show them around after you changed your clothes.

–––––––––––––––––––––

The warrior trio was waiting outside the room for 20 minutes when you and sisters finally emerged from behind the doors. The three of you wore much more comfortable clothing than the extravagant kaftans you wore in your sleep. The clothes also showcased more of your curves and sleek muscles they noted.

“What would you like to do first?” You asked. No sooner had you finished the question that the warrior trio’s stomachs growled like a lion’s roar.

Ghada giggled and together, you led the trio to the main banquet hall.

You and your sisters had a hunch that the food from your 18th birthday celebration was still good. Your hunch was right.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––

The hall was filled with food for 900 people. The tables were packed with: huge slabs of Gararagator Steak, roast beef and pork, fried chicken, smoked turkey, grilled and baked fish in sweet brown sauces, curries, pastas, thick stews, enticing side dishes, rich pastries/desserts, and caskets of mead and wine.

The warriors were drooling at the sight and aromas of the feast. So, when Ghada casually said to dig in, they devoured ALL of the food in record time.

You and your sisters managed to get some of the food before it was gone. None of you would admit it, but the three of you were turned on by the ferocity at which they ate and drank.

Once they finished the food and drink, the warrior trio leaned back in their chairs and sighed while they rubbed and patted their bellies followed by a couple of loud, brassy burps and belches.

Fumnanya asked them some trivial questions about life since the curse was activated which they answered in kind, but they got tense when she asked about their mothers.

Ghada, ever the politician, quickly changed the subject by asking if they would like a bath and one of the guest rooms to sleep in for the night.

Bucky was about to respond when you suddenly challenged him to a duel.

A couple of things happened: Fumnanya put her head in her hands, Ghada groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose, Sam and Steve burst into laughter, and Bucky accepted with a chuckle.

You led the group to the sparring grounds on the western end of the palace grounds.

Ghada set the ground rules: each combatant may choose a weapon from the low-level, non-lethal weapons closet and the fight could last no longer than 30 minutes.

You both chose Bo Staffs and bowed to start the spar. It took a few minutes of sizing each other up before making the first move. The duel consisted a flurry of punches, kicks, precision strikes with your Bo Staffs, and near hits/misses.

It ended when Bucky spotted a weakness in your left mid-section and landed a hit right above left hip causing you to fall. He then pinned you down before you could grab your weapon with his face two inches above yours.

The two of you were so engrossed in your own little world that Steve had to clear his throat a few times to get your attention.

–––––––––––––––––––

Sensing the, ahem, tension in the area, Ghada suggested that you all finally head over to the baths.

Except for you and Bucky, you took him to your ‘secret workshop’. Something about the way he examined some of the weapons fascinated you and you wanted to explore that.

Bucky was quite dazzled by your variety of inventions like your solar battery, your new hover bike engine, and your 5th attempt at your waning swan (a cross between a scythe and a machine gun). He was examining a pair of your laser blasting gauntlets when you asked if he’d seen some of them before.

“Is there something you like?” you asked while he picked up an old prototype for a flash grenade.

Bucky chuckled, “It’s just that I’ve never seen so many inventions in one place before. When I was an orcling, there was these traveling ‘magician’ who performed feats of wonder for the kids in the village near our settlement. In reality, he was a con artist, but we didn’t care. He would always make our lives seem a little bit brighter. One day, the three of us went behind his tent and found all these contraptions in boxes or on the ground. Tuns out, they were relics of the long gone Nephrashim people. Well, maybe not so long gone now.”

He chuckled to himself again almost bitterly. “I was always entranced by what he would show us and, when he finally fessed up to using relics instead of magic, the contraptions he would use to perform such acts. Sometimes I would wonder what it would’ve been like to live a different life; one where I could’ve been a tinkerer instead of a warrior. Don’t get me wrong, I like being one. It’s just that-”

“You wished you had more options.” You finished noticing how delicately he was holding one of your mithril tools. He held it in a deftness that most of the artisans you’ve met couldn’t match.

His confession of sorts gave you pause.

You always hated how almost everyone gave your sisters praise for their interests and demeanor while you were usually belittled when your parents and Fae tutors weren’t around. They always complained about you not being as sociable as Ghada or as ‘sweet’ (quiet, but not really) as Fumnanya. You were always seen as causing trouble, but you just saw the world differently.

Some days you actually hated being a princess and wished you had a different lot in life.

Maybe this warrior understood you.

Taking another look at him, you realize that underneath this ruggedly delicious beef cake was someone who might’ve been something else altogether. Sure, he seemed proud of his accomplishments when you both were in the dining hall, but part of you wondered what could’ve been his path if he had someone who would’ve taken the time and maybe given him an apprenticeship or something.

You bit your lower lip as you mustered up the strength to ask, “I was wondering, I think I have something I was working on before the curse was cast. Would you like to help with it? I mean, you don’t have to-”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.”

The two of you spent the next two hours working on a few prototypes. Bucky asked you questions about engineering and mechanics especially and you were more than happy to answer. It was nice to have someone outside your sisters, parents, and Fae tutors actually give a crap about what you liked. Neither you nor Bucky realized the distance shrinking in between the two of you until all you could think about was how inviting his lips and neck looked.

Unfortunately, your slowly intimate moment was dashed when Ghada interrupted them via communication mirror telling them to take a bath and go to bed already.

With an annoyed tsk, you took off your work apron, your goggles, and your gloves and motioned Bucky to do the same.

You led him to the baths, a wide yet indoor place with vast pools, man-made hot springs, and an indoor waterfall.

Looking at Bucky your feelings of embarrassment and shame arose once again. Did your ancestors really had to be this obnoxious in flaunting their wealth?

You offered to assist Bucky in washing his hair, but really you wanted to run your hands over his exposed skin.

With his nod of acceptance, you took him to changing rooms and you changed into a Soft Wrap Halter Bikini Top and Rene Fold Bikini Bottom in pale gold, the one that caused a prominent lord to walk into a compost cart due to how well it showcased your curves. Hopefully, it would work on Bucky.

You felt bad using your looks to get Bucky to make a move, but you were so sure that it would be a disaster if you moved first.

The slight shame you felt with your bathing suit quickly faded when you saw Bucky emerge from his changing room.

You cursed yourself because he was only in a loincloth, and DAMN he looked fine! Part of his long hair was pulled back in a high man bun, his shin was a beautiful smooth muted yellow-green with aqua undertones, he was powerfully built with massive shoulders (you thought the lightweight armor did most of the heavy lifting), chiseled pecs, abs, and thighs that you could’ve sworn the finest of Fae craftsmen had a hand in creating all wrapped in someone that actually engaged you both intellectually and emotionally.

You know your mother said that you and your sisters would most likely married princes, but you were glad that she wasn’t here to see you shamelessly lust over an orc. You still missed her, but both she and half of your tutors would have a conniption if they saw what you were doing right now.

It would seem that Bucky was sizing you up as well judging by the way his eyes were beginning to blow out with lust.

He must have pushed his naughty thoughts aside. “Are you still gonna wash my hair?” he queried with a smirk that showed off his tusks. They would’ve been intimidating, but now they look endearing and sexy.

You let out an uncharacteristic giggle and told him to wait right there while you went to the closet where the servants kept the washing items and got him silver spruce, lemongrass, rosemary, and orange scented shampoos and oils.

You returned to find Bucky trying and failing to put a towel tower that one of maids used to construct. Stifling a laugh, you took his hand and guided him to one of the hot springs.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Bucky groaned upon sinking into the refreshing warm spring, glad to not have to was in a stream or river for a change (the tubs back home were nice, but they’re nothing compared to this). The water eased his tense muscles and joints in all the right places. Plus it didn’t hurt that the spring was deep enough for him to completely submerge himself which, at 8’ 3”, is no easy feat.

The engineering princess was getting ready to wash his hair like she offered and Bucky couldn’t wait. She had to know what she was doing to him. Lesser men would’ve jumped her on sight, but not him. His stepmother and sisters made sure of that.

She poured some of the argan and peppermint shampoos into a bowl and grabbed a towel to rest her shins.

“Lay your head on top of this bowl while I wash your head. Okay?”

Bucky did as directed and she started to work her magic on him. She started slow,  working front to back, appreciating the way she gently massaged his scalp. At times he would let out low groans of pleasure at her ministrations, craving more from her.

Once she was done with the shampoo, she carefully lifted his head, emptied and refilled the water basin, and steadily poured the warm water over his head while trying not to get water up his nose.

Bucky turned around to see her beaming at her work. He smiled coyly at her pride, “Aren’t you coming?”, while motioning his right hand in a ‘come hither’ gesture.

She shook her head while biting her lower lip, probably not wanting to hair wet or some other prissy princess thing that was engrained into her.

Bucky decided to help ‘break’ her of that mindset by quickly grabbing her arm and gently tossed her into the spring in front of him. She jumped out of the water with a gasp and playfully punched his left shoulder.

“What was that for?!”

“You were too prideful and uptight!” Bucky chortled while she looked away failing to hide her embarrassment. He stopped laughing when he saw the beginnings of tears in her eyes.

He then reached out and softly lifted her head with his fore and middle fingers. She looked a bit anxious when he closed the distance between them.

“May I?” he pleaded, desperate for her to say yes.

“Please,” she whispered.

That was all Bucky needed to hear.

He started slow as to make up for this afternoon, but he almost lost it when she grasped his hair and licked his canines/tusks. He growled as her petite tongue entered his near monstrous mouth, her light moans and whimpers goading something that Bucky thought he would never feel: love, lust, and passion.

Ever since he and his best friends achieved their goal, Bucky felt like he was missing something. None of the women in their community really excited him or really engaged him beyond his physical needs. Sure, there were plenty orc, human, and even elf females who would warm his bed, but none of them cared to stay and listen…except for you, the woman who was now struggling to take off her bikini top after talking machines and engineering with him without getting annoyed by his antics.

You were so eager — and so was he — but he didn’t want to have sex and then have you disappear on him like the others, not when he was finally making a connection. No, he would make this last a little longer, even if this meant disappointing you.

“We should go sleep.” He mumbled as his hand halted your efforts.

——————

With a heavy sigh, you relented, got dressed, and waited for him to get his things. Your eyes were downcast as you escorted him to the chambers he would be sharing with his kin.

Bucky tried to give you a goodnight kiss, but you rebuffed him with a curt “good night” and returned to you and your sister’s shared room.

You were greeted to Fumnanya gushing about Sam and his interest in the library. Part of you was happy for her. Fumnanya rarely got out of her shell and getting with a guy that was even remotely interested in books as much as she was exceedingly rare.

You wanted to say that you were excited for her, you really did, but you were still a little sullen and bitter about what happed with Bucky at the baths.

“So, you and Bucky sure took your time.” Ghada remarked as you were putting on your night clothes (a short tunic and mid-calf pants).

“You’re one to talk! Sam and I caught you and Steve making out in the changing rooms at the baths!” Fumnanya snapped. Great, even Ghada was getting more in the romance department than you were.

You gave Fumnanya a grateful smile while you settled into bed hoping that tomorrow would bring better fortunes.

——————-

You awoke with a slight start and a knock at the door. Grabbing your robe, you raced towards the door thinking it was Bucky only to find a letter floating in a glowing rosy pink sphere. As soon as you reached out to touch the sphere, it disappeared leaving the letter to slowly descend into your hands.

By this time, your sisters joined you in reading the letter. It was written by one of your favorite tutors, Aoife.

It read:

Dearest children,

If you are reading this, then this means that I am either dead or completely unable to reach you. I hope you weren’t asleep for too long, but something tells me you have. For that, I am sorry.

I wish I could be there to hug you and your matches, but I’m guessing you know of your uncle by now. He has been after you for years now. My wards were successful in keeping him at bay, but now, I’m afraid you’re on your own.

The mist surrounding the capital will fade in three days time. By then, you will need to go into hiding in order to not fall into Sophronius’ clutches.

Have faith, be brave, trust in yourselves, and be kind my dears. Also, trust in your matches, okay?

Warm Regards,

Aoife

Aoife was one of the few people who actually liked all three of you the way you were. Finding out that she could be dead was the straw that broke the camel’s back for the three of you.

When the orc hybrid trio found you, you were huddled on Ghada’s bed with the letter on the floor in front of you.

Steve gently coaxed the three of you out of your beds with the suggestion of showing them around the capital. It didn’t get you or your sisters completely happy, but it was a start.

The tour consisted of you and Ghada butting heads over where to take the guys (the theatre district is NOT better than the artisan market), Fumnanya pointing out prominent buildings and statues.

You could’ve sworn that the guys sneered at one of the monuments to one of your ancestors, but you let it slide.

But then, Bucky made an offhand comment about what was must have went into making this place and the sacrifices that was probably made.

You have thought about what must’ve went into making the capital, but never in a negative light. No one in the capital or in the surrounding cities, towns or villages were poor on dire straits. You made sure to get the truth through your little excursions out of the palace before Etna cast that infernal spell on you.

The thought was pushed aside when you and your sisters returned to your room that night. You needed to think of a plan and quickly because Aoife’s spell was going to fade in two days and Sophronius was hot on your tails.

“Perhaps the guys would let us stay with their community for a while.” Ghada put forth as you were getting ready for bed.

“That’s a possibility, but what do we have to offer? I doubt that a semi-nomadic community of mostly orcs would take on three enhanced human princesses for free” Ghada countered as she put on her nightgown.

“Are you serious?!” you exclaimed. “We have tons to offer! Look, Fumnanya is a great medic, you’re awesome diplomat and negotiator, and I’m good with machinery. Plus we can cook and take care of ourselves, so I doubt we would be a huge burden.”

“Also, we can give them some of the treasure that’s laying around the palace for them to use.” Fumnanya chirped.

“Exactly. We’ve got this!” You declared not realizing that the guys were having a similar conversation.

——————

“So, what should we do about the girls? I mean, they’re great and all, but can we bring them back with us?” Sam inquired as stripped down to his loincloth.

“I don’t see why not. They’ve actually got skills the group could use, unlike a lot of the females that first become part of our tribe.” Steve stated as he gnawed on the turkey leg from dinner.

“Maybe we could bring the tribe here! The city is completely deserted except for the girls and they certainly won’t mind us living here.” Sam offered.

“I don’t think that would be the wisest course of action. Like the girls said, the spell that keeps the mist in place will fade in two days. It won’t be long before Sophronius’ horde will crawling all over the place.” Bucky voiced thinking about last night’s interaction.

“Alright, we’ll see what the girls think tomorrow and go from there.” Steve concluded and the three went to sleep.

———————

Both parties began packing for their journey the next day once the guys agreed to take the three of you back with them.

You gave everyone three travel sized storage units. Ghada packed all of her notes on trade, language books, and art supplies. Fumnanya packed all of the medical supplies she could fit into her storage unit, her language, history, science, and geography books. You packed most of your tools, a couple of your inventions (including waning swan), and any materials you might need.

All three of you made sure to pack clothes, cooking supplies (especially spices since the guys were surprised at the variety), personal hygiene supplies, and some of the treasure/objects that would most likely fetch a good price without leading anyone back to them.

The time to leave came soon enough.

“You three ready?” Sam asked as you were making the final adjustments to your traveling clothes.

“As ready as we’ll ever be.” Fumnanya replied as she gave Sam a hug. It surprised you how quickly she warmed up to him.

“Perhaps you should give Bucky another chance.” Ghada advised.

Maybe, but not now.

You made your way to the courtyard taking in everything. The dire wolves nuzzled your cheeks as you made your way to mount them.

Steve gave both Sam and Bucky a nod and you began your journey out of the only home you three knew.

Perhaps this new chapter will be a good one.

—————

If you had looked up at the third tree closest to the thorn bushes, you would’ve seen a solitary raven, a raven with four red eyes. The raven was a scout for Sophronius and it was recording you.

Video of your departure was being transmitted to a crystal ball in the throne room of Sophronius’ main headquarters.

“It seems the bitch Aoife was able to keep them young after all.” Sophronius remarked, taking in the princesses’ features.

“Alert the princes. We have work to do.”

Taglist:

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[whatareyousearchingfordean]

I See You

Summary: Alex hasn’t been feeling quite herself, Dean is there to listen. 

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Alex, aka me (platonic)

Word Count: 1.5K+

Warnings: Language, angst, talks of anxiety 

THIS ONE COULD BE LEGIT TRIGGERING, DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE AT ALL CONCERNED THAT IT MAY NOT BE SAFE FOR YOU.

Author’s Note: Hey guys, I’ve had a really rough couple of days, some of the darkest I have ever seen in myself, so I spit out these words to try and make some sense of my own feelings. It was cathartic and I feel like I’m getting to a place where I can be alright. This is a love letter to myself, so enjoy, or don’t, it is for me ultimately. I figured I would share to remind everyone that we are not alone in our struggles. Special thanks to @waywardbeanie​ without whom I would not have made it through this hump. Thanks for always being my champion, and of course the gratuitous Jensen photos. Also, this is completely unedited, just rough and raw feelings. xo Alex

The sounds of Dean’s boots hitting the tile of the bunker echoed down the hall as he made his way inside. The hunter wiped the grease from his hands as he stepped into the war room, his eyes going straight to his little brother in front of a computer in the library. 

“Hey, Sammy.” Sam hummed a noncommittal reply as Dean came up next to the table. “Still looking for another hunt.” 

“Yeah,” Sam sighed. “Nothing out there right now. It’s almost eerily silent.” 

Dean nodded to himself. Times like these were rare, but he enjoyed them all the same. Sometimes it was nice to enjoy the silence for a little while. Only there was one thing nagging him today, or rather not nagging him. 

“Have you talked to Alex today?” Dean continued to work the oil out from his nails beds, his tongue peeking out between his lips in concentration. 

Sam furrowed his brow as he thought, his head cocking as the realization hit him. “No actually, now that you mention it. I haven’t even heard her rummaging around in the kitchen.” 

“She was weird when she went to bed last night. Quiet.” Dean commented. 

“Alex, quiet?”

“Yeah, when she’s upset.” Dean chewed on his bottom lip. “Except I figured she would just sleep it off. She usually does.” Which was true, Alex was rarely ever in a mood and when she was, like almost every girl he had ever met, all he had to do was feed her or put her to bed. The woman was basically a gremlin but with more complex thoughts. 

“Just because we haven’t seen her doesn���t mean anything. You know how much she loves getting lost in all these books.” Sam countered. The younger Winchester ran his fingers through his long brown locks and shrugged off Dean’s obvious worry. 

“Nope.” Dean shook his head. “Alex always brings me lunch when I’m working on Baby.” 

“Dude, she is not your mother.”

“I know that, Sammy.” Dean wasn’t sure what exactly Sam was trying to insinuate. Dean loved her cooking and if she wanted to make him food, why should he deny her that. Besides, Dean always made sure she ate with him, no matter how much she would insist that she had some other thing to do. “But come on, you said it yourself. This is not like her.” 

Dean turned on his heel and hopped down the steps towards their bedrooms. He took a pit stop in the kitchen to wash his hands before continuing down the hall to room twelve. He raised a fist and rapped his knuckles against the heavy wooden door. 

“Al,” he called, squinting his eyes as he listened for a response. After a moment of no response, he gritted his teeth. “Okay, I’m coming in.” The hunter turned the knob to the door and let himself in, pushing the door in hesitantly. 

Only one of her bedside lamps was on, casting a small orange glow in the corner of the room. There was an Alex sized lump in the center of the bed where she was mostly hidden under the covers. Dean could see the glow of her phone falling over her pillows. She didn’t even stir when the door creaked. 

“Really, no sarcastic remark about entering your room?” 

The woman who had lain hiding away in her room all day, sighed and locked her phone before sitting up. The covers fell to her waist and the chill of the bunker caused a shiver to run through her. She ran her fingers through her burgundy locks in an attempt to straighten out the rat’s nest that had settled there. 

Alex rubbed her eyes, “What’s up Dean?” 

He couldn’t help the frown on his face as he took in the distance look in her eye. “Al, are you okay?” 

She looked away from his gaze, and off towards the opposite corner of the room as she pulled her knees into her chest. Dean watched her for a moment, her hands rubbing up and down her bare arms. Even in the low light of the bedroom, Dean noticed the way her eyes began to water. 

“Oh, sweetheart. Do you want to talk about it?” Dean sat down on the end of her bed, angling his body to face her. Alex shook her head, holding back the full-blown tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. “Okay, well can I just sit with you then?” 

The pair of them sat in silence before she could no longer take it. Dean had proved to her that he had no intention of leaving without getting her to talk. As much as she hated sharing the deepest secrets running around in her brain, she also knew talking some of it out would help the anxiety churning in her stomach. 

“I don’t know, Dean. I mean half the time I don’t even understand my triggers myself. I just get this… this anxiety bubble that settles in the pit of my stomach.” She gestured about with her hands. “And then my mind just tells me everything wrong with my life.” 

“Like?” 

The woman scoffed, “Oh you know the usual. You aren’t good enough, your friends only tolerate you, why do you even try.” Alex gripped her hair and tugged at the roots. “And you know what that’s not even the part that gets me. I can work around that.” 

“Then what has got you holed up in your room all day?” Dean gripped her wrist and forced her to let go of her hair. He could see her chewing on the inside of her cheek, contemplating her answer. 

“It’s just that I had gotten so used to being alone that it had become my new normal. And to be honest, I was okay with that, I had reconciled being alone forever. That’s the type of life we live as hunters.” Her voice had risen as her frustration had. Never before had she ever been this down, and it scared her more than anything. Before she could have at least pretended that she had everything under control, but now things were spiraling and she had nothing to grasp onto to keep from floating away. 

“I love you and Sam. You are my family. But being around people is draining me. You two bicker at every given opportunity and not mention are just loud men in general. Then there is Jack who is literally an infant, which you know I can not handle as I have told you multiple times I do not want kids. This place has become...like sensory overload, even on my best days. At the end of the day, I feel like I have no battery left and I can’t recharge overnight. I’ve been running on empty for too long and that has forced me to put up a mask for you two because I didn’t want to lose you. But I can’t do it anymore.” She took a shuddering breath as the tears were breaking free. “I’m just tired, Dean.”

He nodded as he absorbed everything that she was telling him. If Dean knew one thing about Alex, it was that she didn’t let people into that dark side of her. She was always the first person to be there for everyone else in their moment of need and had the tendency to downplay her own struggles if it meant that the attention was not on her. There was nothing that made her more uncomfortable than the attention on her. He had to choose his words carefully. 

“Okay, first off, I know you think that you are this pro at putting up a front to hide the person you are inside, but I hate to break it to you, you aren’t. I can see right through that facade. I see when you are hurting and when you are genuinely happy. I see when you want to cry and when you are playful. I see you sweetheart, don’t ever doubt that.”

“Second, don’t ever believe you are better off alone. Just because you had gotten used to it doesn’t mean it is what you deserve. You are a strong, beautiful, and empathetic woman. The world deserves to have you out there. I know for me and Sam, our world has never been brighter than when you came crashing into our lives, literally.” They both chuckled at his reference to her being thrown into Dean at the hunt that brought them into each other’s lives. 

“And lastly, all you had to do was tell me. Take a car from the garage and go for a drive if that’s what you need. Spend all day in here mindlessly scrolling through the internet, or dissociating while watching the office for the millionth time. And if you just need me to sit quietly with you, I’ll be there. I know you only have so much in you, but sweetheart, having even only a little of you is worth so much more than none of you.” 

“Dean-” 

“You don’t have to say anything. Take your time, we will be here when you are ready. Just come back to us, okay?” Alex nodded, the tears flowing freely now. Dean reached over and brushed away a tear with his thumb. 

“Now that we have established that, I know you haven’t eaten all day. Are you hungry?” Dean leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. 

“Mmm, I guess I could eat,” she sniffled. 

“That's what I thought. But what should we have…” Dean trailed off before leaning over the edge of the bed and plucking an orange box from underneath. “How about your not-so-secret stash of cheez-its?” 

Alex’s jaw dropped, having truly thought the boys had no clue about her stash under the bed. The boys always went through a box far too fast and she never got any so now she had learned to buy her own box for safekeeping. “Dean Winchester, you give me those back!” She squealed, the infectious grin on the hunter’s face enough to lighten her heart at that moment for a genuine smile to crack on her tear-stained face. She reached out to snatch the box away from him, only for Dean to pull it out of her reach. 

“I don’t think so, we are all out in the pantry and you’ve got my favorite flavor.” 

[scribbling-stiks]

Retrievers - XXV - Glitter

"Okay, so, here," Massachusetts says, "this is a battery. I want to see if you can charge it. You can reflect magic well enough, so let's see how good you are at this."

Russia takes the object. It's a small necklace made of string with a small jar on the end. He lifts it up to his face and sees that the jar contains light pink glittery dust and lighter sequins shaped like stars. The jar itself is about the size of an acorn.

"It's emotionally charged, so it can hold magic," Massachusetts explains, "now try to take the magic from the stump and channel it into the necklace."

"How do I do that?"

"You just do. Try," Massachusetts says.

Russia holds the vial out in an open palm. The string swings aimlessly in the breeze.

'What the fuck am I doing?'

Russia shakes his head. He begins feeling for the static in the air. Suddenly, he feels like a value had been opened behind his rib cage, connecting between his palms. The jar started to warm up, and then it began to vibrate.

"Okay, that's-" Massachusetts gets cut off by a loud explosion.

Russia shuts his eyes out of reflex and feels the wind blow against him. He opens his eyes again to Dixie's hysterical laughter. He looks around to find Massachusetts staring at him with wide eyes, and America giggling.

"What the fuck did you just do?" Massachusetts asks, perplexed.

"I have no idea," Russia replies.

"You're sparkly!" America yells, throwing his hands in the air.

'I'm sparkly?'

Russia looks down at himself and finds that he's covered in light pink glitter, and a few of the sequins poke out of his sweater. He tries to dust it off, only to find that if it doesn't stick back to his sweater, it sticks to his hands.

He looks at his hands and finds that they sparkle like stars when the sunlight hits them. He feels something against his teeth and spits out more pink glitter. This sends Dixie into another laughing fit. He fights the urge to try to wipe it away with his hands, knowing that if he tries, he will only get more glitter in his mouth.

Russia starts shaking his arms trying to knock it off, and though some of the glitter falls to his feet, most of it stays fixed. He groans.

"Well, I've never seen that before," Massachusetts comments offhandedly.

"I haven't either," Russia dryly replies.

"You even have glitter in your hat," America says, taking the hat from Russia's head.

Russia watches quietly as America shakes it, and a cloud of light pink erupts from the fabric.

"That is never gonna wash out," America comments with a laugh.

Russia sighs. He drops his hands.

"Okay, let's try something else. Here, try to summon a ball of magic in your hand."

Russia reopens the valve in his chest and feels magic flow in from the stump and he tries to hold it. He opens one eye and sees a glowing ball in his hand. His eyes open and he stares at a pale pink mass, almost the same color as the glitter.

"Huh."

"Oh my Lord, your magic is light pink!" Dixie cackles.

"Well, it looks nice with blue," America comments absentmindedly.

Russia feels his face heat up.

"Manitoba tried that before and it wasn't like that," Massachusetts ponders, rubbing his chin.

'Manitoba has magic like mine?'

Russia tries again in vain to dust off the glitter, and America tries to help. All America seems to accomplish is to cover his own hands in glitter. America begins to dance around, trying to shake it off. Russia laughs.

"We should probably go back inside for now," Massachusetts says finally, closing his book, "I have to do some more research and Russ blew up the only thing I had for experimenting. Besides, I'd rather not be standing in the middle of a monster beacon."

"Sorry," Russia says sheepishly.

Massachusetts waves him off.

"Come on. Dixie! You too!"

Dixie nods and gasps for breath. But when Russia moves, Dixie falls to his knees, wheezing and cackling. Russia turns around, only to see that he had left a glittery outline on the blackberry bushes he had been standing in front of.

Russia scowls, trying to ignore the heat filling his cheeks.

America giggles and Russia lets his shoulders fall.

'Meri is so cute when he's laughing,' Russia thinks with a smile.

Massachusetts grabs Dixie by the wrist and drags him ahead. America limps along, and Russia slowly follows behind him. Louisiana walks outside to meet them, though she doesn't seem to spot Russia at first.

"Why is Dix laughing like that?" Louisiana asks, starting to laugh herself.

"Have you seen Russ?"

"No. I-"

Louisiana begins laughing as soon as Russia breaks from the treeline. California runs out from the backdoor, chortling.

"We've got a vampire!" California exclaims from over Louisiana's shoulder.

Louisiana falls to the ground, laughing so hard that she struggles to breathe. California stands proudly beside her. America shakes his head with a laugh and Russia walks up to the deck and tries his best to kick off as much of the glitter as he can from his boots.

It doesn't do him much good.

Russia walks upstairs and tries to wash it out with a shower. But when he gets out and glances in the mirror, his eyes catch on the sparkles stuck in his skin and hair. He sighs and tries to scrub them off with the towel, only to realize the towel also shimmers under the light.

He groans loudly.

"Rue? Everything okay in there?" America calls from the bedroom.

"The glitter isn't going away!" Russia whines back.

"Hey, I'm sure it's not so bad."

The words would've been more comforting if it hadn't been for the fact that America had been laughing while saying them. Russia groans loudly and throws the towel at the door.

"Aww, babe, I didn't mean to make you upset."

Russia grumbles and gets dressed in clean clothes. He opens the door and looks down. Now with the steam gone, he sees that even the new shirt is already sparkly. He throws his hands in the air with a growl.

"Aww, come 'ere," America says, patting the space beside him on the bed.

Russia takes it and tries to tune out New York yelling about the glitter trail downstairs. America begins petting his hair, and Russia can't help but melt under his fingers. Russia leans down to give America an easier time reaching, and America giggles.

"Dad," Someone shouts.

"Is that one of my kids?" America asks.

"Dad!"

"Yup," America says, before trying to push himself off the bed and to his feet.

Russia gently pushes him back down.

"It's okay. You rest," Russia says.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, you're still hurt. I can help," Russia says reassuringly.

"Dad!!"

Russia pulls open the door, not bothering to put on his now pink hat.

"What is it?" Russia yells from the door.

"I just need a little help lifting this," Alabama yells from downstairs.

Russia walks downstairs and almost trips over a grumbling New Jersey, whose sweeping glitter off the stairs. he walks on, trying to ignore the embarrassment pooling in his gut.

He sees Alabama trying to move the couch. The teen is lifting one of the sides, but he can't seem to balance it. Russia quickly walks to the other size and helps him lift it. They move it to the other side of the room, and Alabama lowers it gently.

"Thanks, Russ!" Alabama exclaims.

"Why did you have to move this anyway?"

"I'm helping throw out the rug," Alabama explains, "could you help me roll it up? Sippy-cup is busy helping Dix get the new one."

Russia nods, and they coil the fabric up tightly. Alabama throws it over his shoulder, and a few smoldered pieces fall from the end.

"Thanks!" Alabama chirps.

Russia nods and offers a small smile. Alabama beams before spinning around and confidently walking forward, only to get stuck in the hallway.

"Russ?"

Russia sighs good-naturedly and takes the end. They manage to get it out of the house and toss it into a preexisting pile of broken or damaged furniture.

'So that's where that chair went.'

Russia dusts off his hands and manages to get back to the house before he hears the dreaded question.

"Are you covered in glitter?" Alabama asks.

~

Next

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Table of Contents

[hypnoticwinter]

Down the Rabbit Hole part 14

As the loud, clanging gunshot rings out again, Elena gives me a sympathetic look and leans in a little closer to me. I gingerly take my hands away from my ears, but when she speaks I still can’t hear her through the earplugs. I reach up and start to take them out but she gives me a look and smacks my hand back down, and then she is tucking my hair back behind my ear and fiddling with the plugs. She presses down gently and the earplugs slip in a tiny bit further and then I truly can’t hear; I guess I just hadn’t inserted them all the way. I flash her a grin and a thumbs-up and she smiles at me a little indulgently. My eyes linger on her a little longer while she crosses her arms again, leans up against the painted brick wall of the firing range.

Ahead of us in the central stall, the robot and the tall, slim man with the joysticked control box are looking for more targets. The robot is holding the biggest rifle I’ve ever seen, one-handed no less, and though the shells it spits out with each trigger-pull have got to be the size of Coke cans – okay, maybe not that big, maybe about the size of a mediumish pill-bottle – it handles the recoil without any strain at all.

Down further the overhead rack whines and sends a dinner-plate sized target whizzing across the line again. The robot’s head tracks it for a moment before with a single swift and precise motion it flicks the barrel of the gun to the left and pulls the trigger. I wince again, less from the sound of it now, thanks to Elena’s help, and more due to the resonating shockwave of it throbbing in my chest.

The man with the joystick toggles something on it and the robot racks the bolt of the rifle, tilts it skyward to check the chamber, and then ejects the massive magazine and puts it on the table before it.

“As you can see,” the man says, looking around at us, “this new model of armature skeleton is the most advanced yet. We’ve put absolutely everything into this bad boy,” he grins, slapping the chest plate of the robot; it doesn’t react. “Gyroscopic stabilizers, redundant systems in practically every area, newest cyborgnetic processors, the works.”

“You said you were from Europe, right?” Ellis asks, and the man nods.

“That’s correct. This is going to be a bit of a joint venture. As I mentioned before, I’m Max Euler, one of the scientists from Anodyne Berlin’s robotics department. We reached out to the administration here,” he says, nodding to Makado, “when we felt that the skeleton was in the final phases of testing and could really do with an…extremely adverse environment to put it through its paces. Then, when we discovered that you were facing a certain…difficulty retrieving an artifact, well, everything seemed serendipitous.”

“You don’t sound very German,” I observe. A few heads twist around to look at me and I can see Makado hide a smile. Euler doesn’t miss a beat, though.

“I actually learned English in America,” he tells me. “That’s why I don’t have an accent when I speak it. Deep-immersion in a culture is the best way to learn, I believe. Now, do we have any other questions about myself or the armature or has its performance spoken for itself?”

To be fair, the thing’s performance was very impressive. Over the past couple of hours we watched him demonstrate its speed, its agility, its coordination…everything that would interest the men and women on the team with ex-military backgrounds, which, from what I gathered from the past couple of days, was the majority. I think only Crookshank and another man I had met only briefly before he’d disappeared again, a short, sinewy, compact individual who introduced himself with a wide, flashing grin as Klaus, just Klaus, weren’t. Well, possibly Elena, actually. Is the Coast Guard part of the military? I don’t know. I think so but I’m not certain. I should ask her if I ever manage to get her alone again.

Alone. That’s a laugh. These past couple of days in the barracks have been a decidedly different experience than what I’m used to. I’m not a particularly shy person and I’m confident enough that I’ve never had any real reservations about my body, but the absolute lack of privacy is something I’ve never really experienced before. I got used to it quickly enough, changing in front of everybody. The first time I was motivated mainly because I knew for certain that if I made a big deal of it I’d be taken even less seriously. Aww, look at the little baby, wants us to turn around while she puts a new shirt on? How cute! She thinks we’ve never seen a pair of tits before!

I guess if I want to psychoanalyze myself I could ask why I want to fit in so badly with these people, but it’s obvious, isn’t it? Being the outsider aches, and even if you can fox-and-grapes yourself into believing that it’s okay because you’re “better” than them, you’re always going to know how much bull that is, somewhere deep down.

As far as becoming part of a team goes, you can either have it built in or have it be something you build up. If I came here and I was a male ex-Marine or even something like a paramedic, or perhaps even a lineman (power line lineman, not football lineman), I’d be much more easily accepted. Not that I think the fact that I’m a woman really has much to do with it; it’s about experiences. What the hell does a reporter know about Real World Things, like how to build a fire or pitch a tent or hide food where a bear can’t get it? Or how to fire a gun, splint an injured leg?

I know how to do some of those things, to be fair. But I don’t have the credentials. Instead I have to build it up, I have to be willing to learn, I have to put in work without complaining, I have to play ball no matter what. Challenging an institution, even a little one like a team like this, is impossible until you get inside of it. You say something like, ‘uh, I think I’d prefer to have all of you not stare at my tits while I change my shirt’ and boom, all the goodwill you’ve built up is gone. You have to play ball, even if it makes you uncomfortable.

“Roan?” Makado asks again, sidling up to me while Euler prattles on about something else up in front. I take another look at him and the robot and flick my eyes over to Makado.

“Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. What’s up?”

“I want to show you the recording equipment we’ve got for you.”

We slip out of the firing range and head down the hallway, Makado’s heeled footsteps echoing off the tight corridor ceiling. She’s wearing her hair down today, with a broad headband resting high up on her forehead to keep those unruly curls in line. “Makado,” I say after a moment, “can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“How dangerous is this going to be?”

She stops, turns and looks at me. Her lopsided gaze is calculating. “Very, I’d imagine,” she says eventually.

“Mm.”

“Why, are you having second thoughts?”

“No,” I tell her, “not particularly. I just wanted to – mentally prepare myself.”

“You know,” she says after a moment, “I was pretty certain you were going to chicken out.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I assumed, you know, throw you to the wolves for a day or two in the barracks with the team, you’d get scared enough to realize this is a bad idea.”

“They’ve been decent to me, actually.”

“As they would have been to anybody,” she smiles, guiding us around a corner. “But I think you might find that my, and apparently your, definition of ‘decent’ might not match with that of a lot of other twenty-something female reporters.”

“If I quit, who’d work the camera?”

“It’s a camera,” Makado laughs. “How hard can it be?”

“Show me the camera and I’ll tell you.”

She shows me the camera and then blushes after a moment. “Christ,” she says. “Stop laughing, it’s a camera.”

“This is what you’re going to use? Where’d you get this, Walmart?”

“Look, our budget isn’t –“

“How much did this cost? A hundred bucks?”

Makado looks at me for a moment. “Eighty,” she says finally. I knead the bridge of my nose.

“I literally have a four hundred dollar camera in my bag back in the barracks that could take better video than this,” I say, “and that’s my backup SLR.”

“SLR?” Makado frowns. I wave it away.

“It’s a kind of camera. Mine’s digital, it can take stills or video. I have…I think three or four memory cards left? So probably about 60 hours of video, I’d guess. More if you’re okay with thirty frames per second instead of sixty. What’s the video going to be used for?”

“It’s classified,” Makado says. “I can’t –“

“Do you want good video or not?”

She rolls her eyes at me. “Look, I really can’t tell you. We just want you to record the operation, that’s all. You don’t need to give it an edge or a slant or an angle or anything, just record it.”

“Mm,” I grunt. “Alright, that’s fair. What’s the deal with the crystal? Why is it so important?”

“Don’t press your luck. This camera you have, how fragile is it?”

I laugh. “About as fragile as this one, relatively,” I point. “Maybe a little more. If it breaks down there I’ll want an assurance that you’ll replace it.”

“If it’s in the budget.”

“A personal assurance, for my personal camera,” I elaborate. She looks at me dubiously.

“You want me to buy you a new camera with my own money?”

“If it breaks.”

“When did this turn into a negotiation?” she asks. Her voice is exasperated but I can tell that she wants to smile. “Fine. How about this? If you break your camera but the footage is usable, I’ll get you a new one. No footage, no camera.”

“Alright.”

“And you’re taking this one as well, as a backup.”

“Fine. I’ll need to get my charger, though.”

“For the batteries? You don’t have it with you?”

“If you recall, I thought I was just going to be coming in and then leaving the same night. I didn’t plan on getting caught up in this adventure of yours. My charger’s back at my motel room in town.”

“Guess we’d better go get it, then.”

And then Makado is putting her arm around my shoulder and ushering me out of the dingy storage closet, and then out of the building entirely.

 * * *

 “You know,” I say as the little Volkswagen powers down the main road and out the gate, Makado giving a cheery wave to the guard in the gatehouse as she passes, “this really isn’t the sort of car I was expecting you’d drive.”

She laughs. “You and everybody else. See, this actually used to be my aunt’s car. She won the lottery, bought herself a new car, gave me this one, and I was like, ‘hey, what the hell, free car, might as well use it’ and from there it grew on me.”

“It’s so tiny.”

“If you turn that into a crack about my height, you’re walking back to the Flesh Pit.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I laugh. “Although you are kind of fulfilling the stereotype by being so touchy about it.”

“That’s it –“

“I’m joking.”

“I know,” she says, flashing me a quick grin.

The world outside is like a bright warm hug. I realized as soon as Makado lead me out of the squat, evil-looking concrete Security building that for the last three days in the barracks I had been suffering from a myopia of purpose; I’d done little more than work out in the gym, hang out with Elena, and play wallflower, listening to the team laugh and joke and riff off each other. If I were to close my eyes, here in the car, with the top down, trailing my hand in the breeze, I’d be asleep in five minutes.

“You look peaceful,” Makado observes, and I crack an eye open, fix her with what I hope is a sardonic gaze.

“Do I not normally look peaceful?”

“Well, considering I’ve known you for about four days now, and about half of those we were both wondering if I was going to have to send you to federal prison, I’d say that generally you haven’t looked very peaceful.”

“Fair point.”

We drive on in silence for a little longer. “You know,” she says, “there’s no shame in backing out.”

“If you didn’t want me to go you shouldn’t have offered,” I tell her. “It’s too late now.”

“If you want the truth, I did it more for Peter than for you.”

“That’s bullshit,” I tell her. She looks at me a little uncertainly.

“He likes you, you know,” she tells me.

I look over at Makado, really look at her. I look at the lines of the tendons in her neck, loose and ropy but ready to spring into life and brace at a moment’s notice. I look at her cheeks and her eye and her lips, at the way she grips the wheel loosely in one hand, the other hand draped over the edge of the rolled-down window. She glances over, catches me staring. “Have you told him yet?”

I let out a little burst of mirthless laughter. “I haven’t even been able to tell my dad yet.”

“Why not?”

“Why haven’t I told my dad or why haven’t I told Pete?”

“I meant Pete.”

I roll the words around on my tongue for a long, long time before I finally say them. “Because Pete might like me, but he still loves you.”

Makado lets out a breath like I’d punched her, and I look over at her incredulously. “Oh, come on,” I say. “You couldn’t tell? Have you seen the way he looks at you?”

“I don’t –“

“I don’t know what happened between the two of you, not exactly, but I know for a fact that he still has feelings for you.”

“I thought you and him…”

“Let’s just say I’m probably not going to be interested in men for a while,” I say. “Maybe for the rest of my life,” I add with a hollow laugh.

“That isn’t funny,” Makado says quickly. “And what do you – oh.”

“Yeah.”

She doesn’t seem to know what to say to that. Hell, if I were in her position I wouldn’t know what to say about it.

It feels good to tell someone.

“Are you scared?” she asks, glancing over again.

“It doesn’t feel real yet,” I tell her. “I got the letter with the results about a week ago. They wanted me to come back in and ‘discuss my options’ but there aren’t any. Once I get sick I’ll be scared, I imagine.”

“I’m sorry,” she says. “You probably don’t want sympathy, but…”

“The only thing I don’t want is someone treating me differently, that’s all. Maybe I’m dying but this is going to be a long slow goodbye. And right now I still feel fine,” I say, wondering if I really believe it.

“I was meaning to tell you,” Makado says after a moment. “I think I can get you some ballast.”

I look at her sharply; she keeps her head still, eye on the road. “You’re serious?” I ask after a moment.

“Dead serious.”

“How?”

“The suits the team wears, the locator is in the helmet. At the end of the first day, you guys will make camp right near a ballast bulb. You do the math.”

I think about that for a moment, then shrug.

“Seems easy enough. Would it even help me?”

“It might. I don’t know, I’m not a scientist. Isn’t it worth a shot?”

“Sure. But what if…I don’t know, what are the side effects?”

Makado laughs. “Well, undiluted ballast…you’ll get really fucking horny. You’ll probably want to drink it right there so you don’t have to worry about hiding a fucking bottle of it from everyone. And it’s going to taste really, really gross.”

“I meant more like physiological stuff.”

“As far as I know it’s mildly addictive but nobody ever figured out if it was actually chemically addictive or if it was a mental thing. Like, the difference between coffee and cigarettes being addictive.”

“Speaking of,” I say. “You smoke?”

“I don’t.”

“Good,” I tell her. “Nasty habit.”

“Okay, miss two-packs-a-day.”

“Ouch. Low blow.”

“Did you always smoke that much?”

She pulls back onto the main road and then turns onto the side street that leads down to the motel. By daylight Gumption looks even sadder than at night. Fewer shadows to hide the cracks.

“No,” I tell her. “I used to smoke about a pack a week or so.”

“Let me guess,” she says. “When you found out you said ‘fuck it’ and started going all in?”

“Seemed like the thing to do,” I say. “I like nicotine, just not a fan of smoking, necessarily. Too concerned about my lungs’ wellbeing.”

“Right,” she agrees. “Alright, we’re here.”

The warm, dry air has sucked all the life out of me. “Alright,” I say, not opening my eyes. “The charger is on the nightstand, you can just run up and get it…”

“Go and get your damn charger.”

I groan, pop the door, stagger out of the low-slung Beetle. “Question for you,” I say, leaning back in.

“Yeah?”

“Why are you personally taking the time to drive me around?”

Makado laughs. “Do you know how busy I am as the Head of Security?”

“Very, I’d imagine.”

“I’m not busy at all. Place runs itself unless there’s an emergency. I do about two hours of phone calls and emails per night sitting in my quarters in my pajamas, rest of the time I just hang around and pretend to do something, anything, that justifies my salary.”

I can’t help but smile at her. “Glad I could give you something to do, then.”

“Go get your charger,” she repeats, reclining the seat backwards. She unclips her seat belt and shuts her eyes. “I’ll be right here.”

 * * *

 I can tell someone’s been in the room the minute I walk in. I’d left the do not disturb sign on the handle, they’ve taken it off, left it on the floor right in front of the door. I stare; then there is a soft, subtle sound from inside the room and I take a step back, reach behind me for the door handle.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Erica Walken tells me, stepping out from the bathroom. She has in her hand a small revolver, held about waist-high, barrel pointed unwaveringly at me.

It isn’t much to look at, that little gun, the barrel glinting in the low, warm light cast by the lamp over on the bedside table. The inside of the barrel seems like it must be the blackest, darkest, heaviest thing I’ve ever seen, and it draws my eyes to it like it were a singularity. Forget movies, forget books, if you have a gun pointed at you there’s no way to be cool, no way to just quip out a one-liner like in a movie. I an feel my hands shaking at my sides and if I don’t get a grip on myself my legs are going to follow suit. But I’ll be damned if I’m not going to at least try a one-liner. When’s the next time I’ll get the chance?

“Put the gun down,” I tell her. My voice almost trembles but I lock it down.

“No,” she says. “Did you come alone?”

“Y-yes. What the hell do you want?”

“You’ve been a hard woman to track down for the last couple of days. Sit down.”

She jerks the gun at the armchair in the corner and I move slowly to it, my back prickling with the knowledge that she’s still holding the gun on me, and sit.

She stares at me for a moment longer. “Are you working for the Company?” she asks me, and something in the way she says it, in the way she’s looking at me, makes me think that this is a capital-letter Very Important Question.

“The Containment Corporation?” I ask, trying hard to keep my voice innocent. She waves an irritated hand.

“The Containment Corp, Anodyne, whoever. You know what I mean.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Then why the hell are you back?” she growls. “I know you went with Peter, even though I told you not to, and when you and he disappeared I knew they must have caught you. What the hell are you doing back here?”

“What the hell are you doing in my room?” I snarl back at her. She tosses her head, looks down her nose at me.

“Looking for answers,” she says. “I have a right to know –“

“Lady, I don’t know who you think you are but if you think I’m going to overlook the fact that you broke into my motel room –“

“Answer the question,” she tells me. She moves her thumb and draws the hammer on the revolver back and it locks into place with an ominous click.

“No,” I tell her. “I’m not working for them.”

She stares at me for a long while and I stare back at her, keep my face carefully blasé. “Alright,” she says quietly. “What happened? Why haven’t I been able to get in touch with Peter? When my boy heard the alarms he tried to get out of the Pit. He told me that the ditch had been filled in with concrete, he was trapped in there.”

“Your boy?”

She waves her hand impatiently. “The young man who went in there with you. Marcus.”

“Oh. I didn’t know they’d filled in the ditch,” I say softly.

“Well, they did. He can’t get out.”

“Where is he now?”

“Back in the Pit, of course. He wouldn’t have lasted a day out there on the surface, he’d have been caught in an instant. What happened to Peter? Why can’t I get him on the phone?”

I must be very deliberate now, and choose my words carefully.

“They caught Peter,” I tell her. “I don’t know what happened to him. I only just managed to get away.”

Her eyes narrow. “Bullshit,” she says, the word sounding out of place in her small, elegant mouth. “You’re working for them.”

I can see her knuckles whiten on the grip of the pistol. I feel like I’m going to throw up.

“I can get him out,” I say quickly. “Marcus, I mean.”

“How?” she asks.

Yes, Roan, how? the little voice asks somewhere from the back of my head, and I close my eyes. “They made me a deal,” I say slowly. Maybe it’s pathetic but I feel a little better not being able to see the gun. “I’m going into the Pit. Tomorrow or the next day. I can find him, get him out of there.”

“And turn him right in to the Company?” she snorts. “Fat chance.”

“If you shoot me,” I say with sudden confidence, “you’re never going to see him again. He’s going to die down there and you won’t be able to get him back.”

Erica’s mouth is a tight line. Her eyes are like chips of obsidian. “He’s down there for a reason,” she tells me. “Tell me about this operation they’re pulling. Have they found one of the crystals?” she asks.

My mouth drops open. “You know about those?”

“So that’s a yes?”

I snap my mouth shut. She leans forward, and the muzzle of the revolver snuffles forward. I have to stop myself from cringing back into the chair. If she were to pull the trigger, at this range the bullet would -

“I’m going to blow your fucking brains out,” she says, “if you don’t tell me what you know.”

“Okay,” I say, frantic now, “okay, Jesus Christ, fine, they found a crystal! Is that what you want to know so bad? Yes, they found one. They’re going down to get it and I’m going with. Fuck!”

“Do you know the route?”

“No! Look, I don’t know what the hell you want or what you’re planning, but -”

“Focus,” she says. “They have a crystal. You’re certain? You saw footage of it?”

“Yes,” I say.

Erica blows a breath out. She looks very tired suddenly; she leans back against the counter and the gun finally wavers away from me. “Alright,” she says softly. “It looks like I –“

“Roan? You okay in there?” someone calls from outside the hotel room, and Erica and I both jump. She hurls to her feet, giving me a murderous glare.

“You bitch,” she says. “You brought her with you? I should -“

“Roan, who are you talking to?”

Erica looks as though she doesn’t know what to do. She glances back at the door and then down at me. I can see her start to say something, but before she can get the words out, there is the soft snap of a card fitting into the lock and then the handle turns. My panicked eyes turn to Erica and I can see her raising the gun, mid-snarl. “Hide the gun!” I hiss urgently, and she stares at me for a frozen moment before the door opens all the way and Makado, holding a pistol of her own, a slim black automatic, peeks around the corner. Our eyes meet but she can’t see Erica, the woman is around the corner from her.

Erica is staring at me and I flick my eyes back to her; she hasn’t put the gun away and I try to implore her to with a look, but she’s having none of it. She moves to the wall and the floor creaks. Makado’s aim shifts up and over to the corner as Erica flattens herself against the wall, revolver extended ahead of her, head-height.

I feel as though I’m going to pass out but I know I have to do something, and finally after my anguished nerves have been screaming at me to move, to flex my muscles and move, goddam it, I rise lurchingly, a sudden motion that seems in immediate retrospect to have been a very bad idea. Makado’s gun wavers for a moment but Erica swings around almost immediately and starts to get a bead on me. Makado rushes forward and bursts around the corner, knocking me to the floor in the process. I land hard and lay there for a moment, then I roll over. I see Makado on the ground, Erica on her knees, the two of them struggling over the revolver, Erica trying desperately to stuff her finger back into the trigger guard. I snap out a kick and catch her in the side and she whoops out a breath and lets the gun go for a moment. Makado jerks it away from Erica and I finally, finally see the outline of Makado’s pistol, discarded on the floor right in front of me, blending in with the dark carpet.

Before I can snatch it up Erica bolts to her feet, stepping on Makado’s forearm in the process, a yelp boiling out of Mak’s mouth as she wrenches her arm out from beneath Erica’s shoe, but Erica is already sprinting out the door, slamming it behind her. “Mak,” I say urgently, trying to hand her the gun, but Mak sees it and freezes, and then her eye flicks up to mine, wide and scared, and then I realize I’m pointing it right at her. “Shit,” I say, jerking the barrel away from her. “I didn’t mean to – I’m sorry –“

She reaches out, grabs it and takes it from my nerveless hands. “Grip first,” she says, and then clambers to her feet and rushes out the door after Erica.

By the time I manage to get to my feet and stagger out of the room after her, Roan is there leaning up against the balcony, revolver and pistol both slung away into one pocket or holster or other, watching the big black car roar out of the parking lot fast enough to leave twin streaks of black rubber in its wake.

“You okay?” I ask, breathless still, and Makado glances over, eye wide and limpid.

“Yeah. You?”

“I think so.”

She blows a breath out, inclines her head forward until her forehead rests on the cool metal bar of the balcony. I think about it for a moment before I do it, but then I reach over and gently lay my hand on her back, and I feel her stiffen and then relax. She has a terrible knot of muscle just above her shoulderblade and I work at it with my fingers, run my thumb over it in slow, firm strokes. “That’s nice,” she murmurs after a moment.

“You’re pretty tense,” I observe.

“Well, we both almost died, so…”

“How did you get in?”

“Oh, I made a copy of your keycard when we took your stuff the other night,” she says. “Might have come in handy later.”

“Good thing you did.”

“Never know when you’ll need something like that. We got lucky.”

“Peter told me that Erica’s with the cult,” I say, and Makado nods.

“Yeah,” she says. “What the hell was eating her, did she tell you? She can be a bit of a loose cannon but I’ve never seen her pull a fucking gun on anyone.”

“I don’t know,” I frown. “She - she knew about the crystal somehow, she was asking me if I’d seen it, if we were going down to get it.”

“Ah,” Makado says lightly, “that would do it.”

She does smell like peaches, I realize suddenly, standing this close to her. Her back feels very warm beneath her thin shirt, and her skin has a muscley firmness to it that my fingertips find appealing.

“What aren’t you telling me?” I ask her. Her eye flickers open; I can see her glowering at me from beneath the crook of her arm.

“Mind your own business,” she says.

“This is all about the crystal, isn’t it,” I say thoughtfully. “It was just bad timing, our coming in when we did. You thought we were after it.”

She looks at me bleakly. “Yeah, I did. I didn’t know what to think so I made the call. Beginning to think it was a bad one.”

“Why can’t you tell –“

“Because you don’t need to know!” she snaps. “Because some things are supposed to stay secret.”

I take my hand off of her back. She shuts her eye. “I suppose now you’re going to be mad at me,” she offers, and I blow out a sigh, look out across the parking lot. I can see heat distortion off in the distance, out across the plains beyond the town limits, and in the distance I can see the electric fence.

“I’m not mad at you,” I say so softly that she has to ask me to repeat myself. I look down at her and give her a faint smile. “I’m not mad at you. I’m not – I’m not mad at anything, I guess, not the Pit, not the Corporation, not anything. I wish Rey didn’t have to die but if this crystal is so damn important then what else could you have done? He’d have thrown himself down that elevator shaft if you’d let him. Probably wouldn’t have done any damage, but -”

“A couple of years ago,” Makado says, straightening up, hands on her hips, twisting her back left and right, coaxing a deep crack from her spine like something heavy slotting into place, “we had someone get in with a bomb. He was schizophrenic. Convinced that the Pit was going to swallow the world whole. He sprinted for the orifice and if we didn’t put him down he would have dropped that bomb down there and it would have wrecked the gantry, would have hurt the Pit like fuck, maybe even gotten another choke response out of it. As it was it cracked the fuck out of the concrete exclusion plate, we had to put in a new one.”

I can see ghosts swimming in her eye when she looks at me. “I can’t let that happen again. Even if it’s, fuck, ten times less severe than 2007, there’s eight guys down there in that control room in the monitoring station at all times who are counting on me not to let something like that happen.”

“You did the right thing, then,” I tell her, wondering if I’m lying.

“I – what?”

“You did the right thing,” I repeat. “I don’t know if I would have done anything different if I was in the same position, because you’re right, you can’t risk it. You don’t know what Rey wanted to do, you don’t know who he was or whatever he was carrying. You made the call. As long as you make a decision you’re doing something right, even if it turns out to be the wrong decision. The wrong decision is better than no decision.”

Makado nods after a moment. “Yeah,” she says. She’s looking out in the same direction I am but I can tell from the way she’s staring off across the dusty plains that whatever she sees out there lives mostly inside her head.

“Now, to be fair, I don’t know how I’d live with myself afterwards, but in the moment I’d still make the same call.”

Her eye flicks over to me and then her lips split in a slow lazy smile. “Well aren’t you just a ray of fucking sunshine.”

I grin back, nod to the car. “You’re really not going to call the cops on her?”

“What’s the damn point? She’ll be out of the county by now. Tell you what, do you know her phone number?”

I start to say I don’t, but then I think about it and lead Makado back into the motel room, fiddle with the room phone until I can find a call history. “There,” I say, pointing to one entry. “That’s her. She called me about three days ago, before I came to the Pit. Told me not to go.”

Makado nods, takes her phone out, punches the number in. It rings and rings and then goes to voicemail. “Erica,” she says, once the tinny beep sounds, “this is Makado Veret. Look, I’m not calling the cops on you. I know you probably don’t believe me but as far as I’m concerned this is no harm no foul, alright?”

Her eyes meet mine. “We know about your guy in the Pit. Roan told me you were asking questions about the crystal. I’m only going to warn you once. Whatever you’re planning, call it off.”

Makado’s eye flickers over to me, then away again. I can see her throat bob as she swallows, then she continues. “You probably can’t reach him by phone but if you do get ahold of him, tell him to head to the main gullet and up to the monitoring station. I can’t promise immunity but I’d rather get him out of there alive than dead, and I swear to you I will try to get him off property without any federal charges. Call it good faith. But if you pull the shit you just pulled again,” she says, her voice cooling so quickly I can practically hear the snap, “or if you try to interfere with my operation, you’re going to be coming back out in a bodybag. Oh, and I have your gun. Call me back.” She rattles off her number and then hangs up, blows a breath out.

“Think she’ll call you?”

“Maybe,” Makado shrugs. She reaches into her pocket, pulls the revolver out, examines it. “Free gun, though, if she doesn’t.”

“I don’t think that’s how that works.”

“That was a joke,” she explains, and when I start giggling I can’t suppress it even though as far as jokes go that was fairly lame, but I realize that it’s just all the adrenaline from the fight flooding out of me belatedly in one long relieved flow and even as Makado cuffs me playfully behind the ears and tells me it wasn’t that funny, I manage to make her smile, and I suppose that ought to be enough.

When we get back, charger and a couple of extra half-full SD cards tucked carefully into my pocket, Elena is the only one who noticed that I’d been gone for long, but when she asks where I’ve been, rolling over on her stomach to peer at me from her messy cot, I just shrug. “Out,” I tell her, and content myself with a mysterious smile while she shakes her head and returns to her magazine, muttering something about fucking admin under her breath, but it’s with a crooked smile that I know is meant for me, and when I flop onto the cot next to her nobody gives me a second glance and I feel, for just a moment, like I am starting to belong.

Continue with Part 15

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[redfoxwritesstuff]

Of Dust and Ashes, #32

Hello, Lovies. How have you been? I’ve been well. The new laptop gets in later today and I hope to be writing more and perhaps next  month we may even see a one shot come into existence! 

I’ve gotten a slight rash of new followers, some of whom are minors. Unlike some, I do not ban minors from my blog however, I do clearly mark any content that they should avoid. As a general reminder, please always check the content warnings, found at the start of every fic and every chapter.  I am an adult of nearly 30 years, I write adult topics and themes.

Chapter warnings: Blood, death.

Series warnings: Smut, blood, graphic death, sexual assault, child death, miscarriage, dead babies- look, if it can be a trigger, it’s in here. 

Masterlist  Kofi  AO3

Chapter 32: What If?

Clint relished the silence in the truck for a few moments as he backed along the gravel driveway. The weeds and grass would encroach on it come spring but for now, it was a mix of ice and gravel mixed with snow. The tracks from his truck were the only ones and if they were lucky, that would remain the case. 

Spring would be upon them before they knew it. In much of the country, frozen bodies would begin to rot and a wave of sickness would spread. He wondered how many clusters of people were smart enough to take advantage of the cold to remove bodies. 

Not nearly enough, he was sure. No one wants to look at the dead, let alone touch them. Hell, he didn’t want to either. But when it needed to get done, it needed to get done. The sickness would kill many more if the dead were allowed to rot in the cities. It would be far better to be in a rural town during the warm months. 

How many more people will have died between now and spring? Food stores were likely low in most places by now. He knew he was having to travel farther and farther to find processed and packaged foods, giving proof to that fact. How many would starve to death this winter? So many would due to not knowing how to cook without the processed ingredients or how to store raw foods without a refrigerator. How many would eat toxic or spoiled food, not knowing how to tell what was safe to eat? How many wouldn’t know how to turn flour and yeast into bread? 

Those thousands were not his problem. His problem was limited to three other people and a baby. Shaking his head, he banished thoughts of infant formula away. It was a worry for another day. With enough food and Sasha’s help, Rachel would at least be able to supplement the formula with her own milk. Lizzy just needed to make it four or five more months. 

When he reached the open road, he stopped and waited. He sat there with his thoughts for half an hour and watched for any signs of life. There was no smoke from what could be other fireplaces. There were no other signs of people. It was exactly what Clint wanted to see. 

Finally, when he was sure enough that there was no one around, he pulled onto the old highway. It’d been mostly abandoned in the last ten years when a new interstate had routed near but the locals had still favored it. He had still favored it. 

Now, he was thankful for the interstate. Most migrating people would follow the interstates with their wide lanes, direct routes and clear signs. It would keep them away from his little hole in the country. 

Turning on the radio as he went, he hit the scan button. The radio searched through the airwaves, trying to find a signal. When it found none, he repeated the process with the AM frequencies. There was the same emergency broadcast, going in and out. It was weaker now. Clint was sure the emergency generator was finally giving out. 

As he pulled up to the gate, he thought about calling Nat. He thought about telling her what they did, that King Jacob was dead. He thought about telling her the things running through his mind. For a moment, he even picked up the satellite phone from where it had sat forgotten in the cup holder. He thought about asking her to come out, to pick him and Dee up and take them to New York.

Fingers dialed the number as he pulled up the hill. His thumb hovered over the button with the green phone. He only had to press it. 

His eyes looked up from the phone as he rolled to a stop in front of the house. He could see the motorhome and the chickens. He could see the shed that doubled as a year around grow room. He saw their life and instead of hitting the call button, he flipped the phone over. 

Without bothering to power it down, he pulled the back off and removed the battery before breaking the old style flip phone in two. He tossed the parts into the back of the truck when he got out. 

He couldn’t be like them. He couldn’t support people like King Jacob and King Mason being given power after they had hurt so many. He couldn’t allow it. He wouldn’t allow it. 

As he fed the chickens and gave their coop and pen a quick clean, he wondered if that was what Dee had been dancing around. Would she go with him, if he set out to remove another abusive self named king from power? Would she think he was just a vengeful killer? Was he just a vengeful killer?

There were a good number of eggs in the coop and Clint was thankful for them. They were laying and earning their keep. Feeding chickens food scraps and getting eggs in return was far better than eating the chickens. He left a handful of eggs in the nests. If they were lucky, they would hatch. He picked up older eggs, saved for the same reason and marked with a black dot. Using the light of the sun, he checked them for signs of development and life. Inside, there was a shadow of something growing. Later, he would come out with a flashlight and look properly but that was good enough for now. 

The rooster Tony eyed him with disgust. Clint flipped the bird off as he walked into the house. The damned bird should be thankful he wasn't turned into fried chicken yet. Clint was all for using the male to breed the females and have enough chicken and eggs to eat some of both. There was only one rooster though and he worried about genetics. He'd have to eventually worry about finding someone else with chickens to trade and diversify the genetics.

In a cabinet above the refrigerator, he pulled down an empty egg carton and filled it. Laura had always talked about getting chickens when he had finished his countless projects to improve the house. She gathered cartons to remind him or annoy him, he wasn’t sure which. He never did finish the house for her. Even now, it was unfinished. Now there were chickens. 

From the deep freezer he grabbed bags of meat. Deer and turkey, mostly whole cuts though he had ground some scraps up. He didn’t pull much out- if it spoiled he didn’t want much to waste. He dropped the bags into a cooler he had partially filled with snow and ice.

He hoped that would work, if kept outside and in the shade, to keep the foods frozen and good for the winter. There was always the question of the weather. This winter had been different than he had seen in the ten years he’d owned the land.

Somehow, it was both colder and harsher than what was normal but it was also warmer. There was a layer of melted snow and ice sandwiched between snowfalls. More often than not, the sky was full of heavy dark clouds. He wondered how long it would take for the ash and dust to truly settle. 

He loaded up a box with bags of dried pasta and canned vegetables and fruit. On top, he set onions, a few potatoes and a handful of squash. He filled another box with apples, cans of pie filling and tossed on a few cook books. He filled large gallon bags with flour and sugar from their stores. It wasn’t a lot but it was something. After putting everything in the bed of the truck and securing it, he made his way to the shed turned greenhouse. 

The plants inside looked to have been growing well. He had put the lights on a timer before they had left on the off chance that they’d be gone for more than a night. The fact that he had managed to convert the shed into a functional greenhouse was something he was proud of. 

Trees grew in large pots, waiting for spring when he would plant them outside. A few small buds grew on the branches of a few citrus trees. He fingered them as he passed. They hadn’t expected any fruit from the trees for at least a year. These buds would likely grow into fruits too small to eat, if they matured at all. 

Moving down the aisles, he pulled his knife from it’s sheath at his thigh. The tomatoes had grown well in the greenhouse and the vines of little cherry sized fruit were heavy and bright red. He slipped three of the vines into the box. There were a few zucchini. He hesitated for a bit before snagging two of the vegetables to add to the box. 

They were not thriving in the makeshift greenhouse. He knew once spring came and he transplanted them outside, it would be a completely different story. By summer they would have more zucchini than they would ever want to eat. That would be the case for many of the vegetables. Luckily, they would keep well enough in the cellar.

They would freeze or can much of the excess for the next winter. If they were lucky, next winter they wouldn’t have to fear where they would get their next meal. There was another reason he planted more than they needed was for trading. He held very little  hope that nationwide supply systems would be functional by then.

There were many who would be suffering from lack of food this winter. Clint strived to make sure that they were not among them. They would have food- sure there would be an overabundance of some things and they’d get tired of eating the same foods but they would not be hungry. 

Still, he knew their supplies were thin when accounting for supplying Sasha through the winter. There was no doubt that to supply Rachel and Lizzy it would eat into their supplies. Clint would have to spend more time hunting to supplement what they were growing. Worse yet, he knew he would have to travel farther and farther each time he went out for supplies. 

Clint picked a few handfuls of strawberries and called that a day. Sure, there was more ready for harvest. There was food stored in the cellar and pantry but it wasn’t enough. If he had to pick between him and Dee starving or Rachel, Sasha and Lizzy starving, he would choose to keep his food. 

He loaded up the back of the truck before pulling himself into the driver’s seat. Rather than start the engine, he sat there thinking with his eyes on the barn. His thoughts swam. The desire to help someone warred with his desire to put himself and the woman he loved first. 

He grumbled. He slammed his fist against the steering wheel. Finally, he rolled his eyes and signed. Opening the door, he slipped back out of the truck and stomped back to the barn. There was no one to witness his tantrum but that did nothing to stop him from throwing one.

He grabbed a large potted cherry tomato plant. The branches and stems slapped him in the face. While he carried it to the truck, all he could think about was how much the plant stank. He was never a fan of the smell of tomato plants. He slipped it into the floor space behind the passenger seat.

He went back to the barn and grabbed potted lettuce plants and berries as well. Whether Sasha had a green thumb or not, he didn’t know but at least they would have some sort of food growing. It wouldn’t be enough to support them. They wouldn’t be able to survive off lettuce, tomatoes and berries alone if he wasn’t able to supplement their supplies but it was something. 

The engine roared to life as Clint decided enough was enough. He turned around in the drive and made his way down the dirt road. The gate rolled open as he approached, mindful all the while of the pots sitting behind him. 

The first veterinary office he checked had the windows broken out. It was in a small town not too far from the farmhouse. There were days he’d woken up in this town, having spent the night prior in a delirious hunt for his wife and children. It had been a long time since he had visited this town.

Closing his eyes, he took a moment to be thankful that he hadn’t woken up like that since Dee joined him. She saved him from the memories and longing. She saved him as much as he had saved her. 

There were a few people who still lived in this little town, though they hid whenever he had been there. Part of him wondered what he had done in the night, lost in a delirium looking for those who he had failed. It must have been terrible, for them to hide from him. Still, he didn't mind that none came to greet him or question him. He would rather less people crawl out of the woodwork and expect him to help them. 

Glass crunched under his feet as he stepped over the broken window. Ice and snow covered the ground, obscuring the razor shards hidden in seemingly innocent ice. Slipping and falling here would easily be fatal. Judging by the dried or frozen blood pooled by the window, it already may have been for someone. Looking over to the left, Clint saw the man.

He must have been the one to break the windows in. Dead eyes gazed back at Clint. He didn’t look away from the sight. Frost had touched the man’s fingers and face. Ice and snow gathered over his legs, giving away the fact that he had been there for a while. The dim light of the setting sun flooded in through the broken window. He could see the trail of blood. Around his arm was a bandage, not wrapped nearly tight enough to slow the flow of blood and save the man's life. 

He retraced the man’s footsteps. Heavy boots thudded on the tile floor next to the dark trail. Clint followed it through the lobby. It smeared along the reception desk in dark stains and over scattered papers. On the floor was a first aid kit. The plastic was broken, shards of artificial red on the ground. 

That was where the man had gotten the bandage he had used to try and wrap his wounds. It wasn’t enough. Rolls of bandage littered the ground. He would have needed every one of them to have anything like a chance. Judging by the trail of blood, nothing would have been good enough other than a doctor though. The fact that he had made it as far as he did was impressive. Humans were always one of the most impressive beasts.

On the wall next to the reception desk there was a display of colorful plastic cones. Clint was sure they were the ‘deluxe’ cones the receptionists would try to up-sell. When his own dogs needed a cone, he always went with the cheap clear or white ones. The cone never stayed on long enough anyway. There was no way in hell he was going to shell out $30 for something that wouldn’t be on for even half the recommended time. 

He grabbed a handful of the large ones. There was no reason not to give Trust a deluxe cone experience. In the back of his mind, he wondered if his old dogs would have been more willing to wear one if he splurged the extra money for the nice ones. It was too late to know, the dogs had all died of old age. The one that remained turned to dust along with everyone else he had loved. 

The door into the treatment area was closed. Clint tried the knob, expecting to find it locked. The knob turned under his hand without the slightest resistance. 

“This is too easy.” He mumbled to himself, looking over his shoulder at the dead body. “Watch my truck, will ya? I should have done this first....” 

The last thing he wanted was to find the truck stripped of supplies when he came back out. He took a deep breath. His boots echoed on the tile floors as he made his way through the dark halls. A few dim lights shone, allowing him to see his way. The emergency power had to have been almost gone by now. 

Under one of the large procedure tables, there was an emergency bag. The bright red gave it away. He wasted no time in reaching down, plucking it up and setting it on the table. Inside, Clint found a flashlight but little else was useful. He pocketed the travel sized packets of pain medication and alcohol wipes, leaving the rest to someone in more need. 

Dust danced in the air as the beam shed light on the space. He listened for a moment, making sure he was alone. There was nothing but silence in the clinic. It didn’t sound like there was anyone messing with the truck either. With a deep breath, he pushed himself to pick up the pace. 

He skimmed bookshelves in offices, looking for any books that could double as ‘Veterinary Medicine for Dummies’. When he didn’t find one, he left the office. It wouldn’t do to waste time looking for books. Sasha was a nurse and would have to trust herself. 

He checked cabinets, breaking open doors when he encountered locks. It was a vet’s office, not a doctors or pharmacist and so the locks reflected that. The doors and locks both were weaker. No one expected someone to hit up a veterinary office looking for pain meds. 

Looking around, Clint found a grocery bag in a trashcan. It looked clean enough. Without giving it much thought, he dumped veils of medication into it. Some were in boxes, some not. Clint assumed the boxes had the drug information inside. If not, he wasn’t going to hunt for it.

When he checked the cabinets and emptied what he thought he could use, he grabbed the bag full of medications and made his way out. On his way, he reached down and snagged the emergency bag. No point in leaving something useful behind because he didn’t have an immediate need for it. 

Through the broken glass, he could see the truck looking just like he left it. There was no one else around, from what he could see. Having his eyes on the truck full of supplies was a relief. He allowed himself to relax just a bit. 

When he stepped through the window, there was a scream. Clint, in reflex he dropped the bags and screamed for a split second. While his throat tightened and cut his voice off after a fraction of a second. He reached out to the source of the surprise and grabbed them. While he intended to pin them against the way, he hadn’t intended to do so with so much force. 

His foot had slipped on the ice, carrying them both forward. The boy’s teeth crashed together with the force as he hit the wall. Clint caught his balance before crashing into the wall himself. The boy’s chest heaved and his eyes were wise.

“Please.” The boy begged and he was a boy. Clint would guess he was no more than 15. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t going to take anything. I’m sorry. Please let me go.”

“Yeah you were.” Clint grumbled as he let go of the boy after giving him a quick glance over. He appeared to be unarmed, underweight and dirty.

“I was. But I won’t. I’m sorry. I’m just- I’m so hungry and there’s so much.”

“Are you alone?” 

“My gran- she’s at home.”

Clint sighed and looked at the boy again. He rolled his eyes and pulled from the box a bag of flour and a stem of tomatoes. It wasn’t a lot but it was something. After thinking for a moment, he grabbed a can of beef stew to add. “Take this. Water that stew down a bit and boil it with flour and you can stretch it farther. Good luck.” 

Clint didn’t look at the boy again as he grabbed his bags and tossed them into the truck. He refused to look at the now crying boy as he started the engine and pulled away. If the boy was lucky, he would make it to spring. More than likely, both he and his gran would be dead by then. Clint told himself he couldn’t care.

~~~~~<3

  Tag list: @usedtobegoodfriend96, @alcoholic-muffin, @theoneanna, @alexakeyloveloki, @toozmanykids, @winterisakiller, @j-u-s-t-4, @bambamwolf87, @missaphrodite23, @nonsensicalobsessions, @tinchentitri, @xoxabs88xox, @queenoftheunderdark, @carissime72, @myoxisbroken, @coyotesongwriting, @wegingerangelica​, @tnystrk-exe​, @faemapfae​, @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​

[ineffable-snowman]

I wrote a GO Christmas fic!

or am still writing, to be honest, but here’s the first chapter. It’s a human AU, inspired by too many Christmas romance movies that I’ve watched over the years.

You can read it here or on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28245411

Many thanks to the lovely people at the GO-Events discord server who helped me with beta-reading and brainstorming!

Chapter One: December 19th

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!”

Crowley threw his phone onto the passenger seat. Dead battery. And he was in the middle of nowhere and it was close to midnight. He cursed Lucifer and that stupid job and the stupid snow (and ice storms, road works, poorly signposted roads, and zero internet reception). He was completely lost without his phone. What was he supposed to do? Just keep driving, without a clue where Ashville was? Everything just looked the same: heaps and heaps of snow. Why would anyone want to build a factory here of all places? (Probably low property taxes.)

Crowley got out of the car and kicked the bloody snow at the side of the road only to hurt his foot because it was more ice than snow. He cursed some more. His words formed wisps of tiny clouds in the dark and the cold. A gigantic factory would definitely be an improvement for this area. It would mean a bit of variety in this desolate place. Maybe even a signpost here and there. Or internet reception!

Finally, the glint of headlights in the distance. Crowley waved wildly to make the car stop.

The driver rolled down the window. “Do you need help?”

“Yes. I seem to have gotten slightly lost. Can you point me towards Ashville?”

“Ashville? Never heard of that.”

Neither had Crowley before Lucifer had sent him there. “Do you maybe have a phone I could use?”

“No internet reception here.”

“What about phone calls?” Not that it would be much help. Crowley did not even know Lucifer’s number by heart. But maybe he could call directory assistance to ask for the number of that Bed and Breakfast, what was it called again? Something with ‘Book’. Shit. Of course, he had all the necessary information on his phone and only his phone.

“Afraid not.” The driver got out of his car and opened the trunk to pull out an old roadmap.

“Mm, didn’t know these still existed,” Crowley said but was all the more grateful for such old-fashioned things in this situation. Back in Chicago, the first thing he was going to buy himself was a new phone, at least two power banks, and a roadmap.

Crowley and his rescuer – with a bulky flashlight – poured over the old roadmap until they finally located the small town called Ashville. Without ever having been there, Crowley already hated it. He tried to memorise the map (taking a picture with his phone would have been so helpful…) and thanked the man for his assistance.

After half an hour of driving through more snow and trees, Crowley finally arrived at Ashville. Now he just needed to find his B&B. Well, he would simply do it the old-fashioned way: go to the tourist information or, in the worst case, book another place to stay for the night.

There was no tourist information.

There was nothing that looked like a hotel.

The streetlights had already been turned off as well as all the  lights in all the houses. It was not that late, just half past midnight. Did people even live here? It felt like a ghost town.

Crowley drove down road after empty road until he finally passed a house with the lights still on. He brought the Bentley to a halt and promptly slipped on the icy sidewalk when he got out of the car. “Damn it!” Clinging to the wing mirror, he picked himself up and shuffled to the front door. He was tired and cold and hungry, his bottom hurt from the fall and he badly needed to go to the loo. The lights in this house were his only hope.

A friendly-looking man in reading glasses and a beige cardigan opened the door.

Crowley quickly started talking before the man could shut the door right in his face, “Sorry to disturb you so late at night but your house was the only place with the lights still on, so I thought I’d try my luck. Anyway, I’m looking for a B&B in Ashville – I am in Ashville, right? – called something like Books and Bed and Breakfast. It’s meant to be here somewhere.”

“Did you mean The Book Nook?”

“Yes!” Crowley almost shouted in relief. Finally, something that went right today.

“You’ve come to the right place. This is The Book Nook. Are you Anthony Crowley then?”

“Oh, thank God! Yes, I’m Crowley.” Crowley smiled apologetically at the man. He must have kept him up for longer than usual  because, apparently, in Ashville, everyone went to sleep before midnight. “Sorry for being so late but there was an ice storm around Little Falls and the road was closed in Randall and then I had to go back to Little Falls and crawl along those bloody slippery roads again and try to find another way and I got lost about five times because I didn’t get reception for my phone and then the battery was dead. Anyway, sorry. Didn’t mean to keep you up.”

“It’s fine, no need to worry. The most important thing is that you arrived here safely. I am Aziraphale, by the way. Welcome to The Book Nook.” The man opened the door wider. Inside looked warm and cosy. “Please, come in. Can I help you with your luggage?”

“No need, don’t have much with me.” Crowley quickly got his suitcase from the Bentley and followed Aziraphale inside. He found himself inside a crammed little bookshop. Not what he had expected.

His confusion must have shown on his face because Aziraphale said, “Don’t worry, you won’t have to sleep between the books. Your room is upstairs and you have a perfectly nice and comfy bed.”

“Great.” Crowley followed him up a winding staircase, which was decorated with a festive garland. Aziraphale led him to one of the rooms and fiddled with the large key (Crowley could not remember when he had last stayed at a place that still used such keys. Key cards were the standard). Finally, he managed to open the door with a resolute yank.  

“There it is. I hope everything is to your liking.”

Crowley could only stare. It looked like a Christmas explosion had happened here. There were Christmas lights on strings wound around the wardrobe and the mirror. Every available surface was covered with Christmassy knick-knacks: Santa figurines, Christmas baubles, candles in the shape of snowmen, even a nutcracker (What on earth was he supposed to do with a nutcracker???). The windows were decorated with glittery stars and the letters forming ‘Merry Christmas’, missing the dot on the i.

Aziraphale looked expectantly at Crowley. Oh, yes, he had asked if Crowley liked the room.

“Yeah, great, thanks,” Crowley answered, staring in horror at the flowery bedspread and the assortment of plush cushions in various sizes, some of them with ruffles and lace. How old was that guy? Or did he rent his Grandma’s old rooms?

“So, what brings you here to Ashville? Visiting relatives?”

Crowley supposed that must be the only reason why anyone came here. Who would voluntarily go to this place? “Nah, I’m just a tourist on vacation.” He was not in the mood for small talk (and he really needed to go to the loo!) but it would not do to be rude to Aziraphale after Crowley had made him wait for so long for him to arrive, so he tried his best to be friendly.

“Vacation, how lovely,” Aziraphale commented.

Was that too obvious a lie? “Thought I’d do some hiking in the woods,” Crowley elaborated. “Just…find some peace and quiet, you know? Work’s been busy lately.” At least that part wasn’t a lie. He probably could convincingly play the exhausted businessman from the city who needed some time away from the hustle and bustle to find his  inner self or some such bullshit.

“Ah, I see. You would need snowshoes if you want to go hiking in the woods, though. The snow is very deep if you leave the road, you won’t get very far without snowshoes. I think I heard Sara say that they had sold out the last ones but I could ask Arthur if he could lend you his, he is about-”

“No, no, it’s fine, I brought my own.” Crowley did not own snowshoes, of course, but as he would never willingly go hiking in the snow, that was no problem.

Aziraphale dubiously eyed Crowley’s little suitcase.

“I left them in the car,” Crowley explained. “I hardly need them here, right?”

“Ah, no.” Aziraphale chuckled. “Anyway, I’ll leave you alone now so you can make yourself at home. Would you like a cup of tea? Or something to eat? I suppose you haven’t had dinner yet if the journey took you so long?”

Just on cue, Crowley’s stomach rumbled. “Starving.” The only roadside restaurant he had seen during his trip here had already been closed – at 9 pm! Ridiculous, really. “Any recommendations for a good restaurant?”  

“I’m afraid the diner is already closed.”

Of course it was. But another thing worried Crowley much more: “Diner? As in singular?”

“Well, Ashville isn’t that big. There is a pub in Elm Street but they only serve light lunches. And there used to be a lovely restaurant next to the town hall but the owner – sorry, you’re probably not interested in all of this. I have some leek and potato soup left that I could reheat or if you’d prefer sandwiches, I could prepare some quickly-”

“No, soup is fine.” Jesus Christ, Crowley just wanted to go to the loo and he needed to recharge the phone’s battery so he could shout at Lucifer for sending him to this ridiculous place – he did not need leek and potato soup. But asking the guy to prepare him sandwiches in the middle of the night seemed somewhat ungrateful. “Soup is great.”

“Lovely. The kitchen is just over there.” The guy pointed to the end of the hall. “Come whenever you’re ready.” He handed Crowley the rusty key. It had a little wooden guardian angel as a key chain. Then he finally left Crowley alone.

Crowley rushed to the tiny bathroom and groaned when he saw the crimson red and very plushy cover on the toilet lid. He was going to kill Lucifer!

After he had finally relieved himself, he unplugged the Christmas lights (because apparently there was only one socket in the whole room) so he could recharge the phone’s battery. Then he went into the kitchen, which was as crammed and full of Christmas decoration as his own room.

Aziraphale put a bowl of steaming soup in front of him. Leek and potato soup was not exactly Crowley’s thing but he was hungry and cold, so it would do.

“When would you like to have breakfast tomorrow?” asked Aziraphale while rummaging through the kitchen drawers. “I’m afraid I can’t offer you a late breakfast because I have to open the shop tomorrow at half-past nine. You see, the last Saturday before Christmas is always the busiest day of the year. Many people turn to books as a last-minute Christmas present. But if you wanted to sleep longer, I could prepare something for you. Pancakes are easy to reheat, for example, and-”

“Don’t bother, I just have coffee for breakfast anyway.”

“But if you plan to go hiking, you need to have a proper breakfast! Seriously, the cold will wear you out in no time at all!”

It took Crowley a bit of time to calm Aziraphale  down but he eventually convinced him that he would not go for a long hike tomorrow but would just walk around the town for a bit. Then finally Crowley could go into his room. He removed the horrible bedspread (and two woollen blankets underneath it) as well as five cushions. Five! Who on earth needed that many cushions? Most of them not even big enough to rest your head on.

Unfortunately, his charging cable wasn’t long enough – or rather: there was no socket close enough to the bed. So Crowley sat down on the floor next to the socket and texted Lucifer: Just arrived in Ashville. Are you fucking kidding me???? Well, he meant to text him but the message could not be sent because he had no reception. Damn it, this was a town, people lived here! How could there be no reception?

Groaning, Crowley stood up again and left his room. The lights in the kitchen were still on and he could hear plates clatter and water running. No dishwasher, naturally.

“Sorry, could you give me the wifi password?” Crowley asked. “I mean, if there is wifi…”

“Yes, of course there is. But it can be a bit finicky, especially if there are snowstorms. Which is practically all the time in winter. You usually have the best reception at the top of the staircase. The password is,” Aziraphale waggled his eyebrows, “Pri-fiAndPrejudice.” He looked immensely proud of that horrible pun. Crowley could not entirely suppress a snort of laughter. What a nerd.

“If there’s anything else you need, my room is the one next to yours. Don’t hesitate to knock.”

“Isn’t that annoying, always having strangers in your house?”

“Not at all. The house would be too big for just me. And anyway, I don’t have many guests and most of them are just lovely people, so I don’t really mind it.”

Crowley shrugged. He could not imagine living like that. But he also couldn’t imagine sleeping between dozens of tiny fluffy cushions and doing your dishes by hand. Suddenly his conscience got the better of him. It was way past midnight, this guy had offered him soup in his own kitchen – which was not usually included in a B&B – and was now doing the dishes. “Can I help you? I could dry the plates.”

“Absolutely not! You’re my guest and you deserve your vacation. Besides, I’m almost finished here.”

“Ah, well. I’ll leave you a five-star google review then.”

“Oh, really?”

Aziraphale smiled at him and – Crowley was momentarily taken aback. There was no reason to smile like that just because of the promise of a simple google review. Aziraphale’s smile was just like his Christmas decorations: blinding and completely over the top.

“Yeah, no problem,” Crowley said. “Well. Night then.”

Back in his room, Crowley typed in the password and waited for his phone to connect to the ridiculously slow wifi. Finally, it sent the text messages to Lucifer. While waiting for an answer, Crowley checked The Book Nook’s reviews on google. There were only two: one anonymous who had given it two stars and one who had given it three stars and an added comment “breakfast was good.” Crowley frowned. So did that mean the rest of the place was not good, just the breakfast? It felt oddly unfair. Obviously, this place did not meet Crowley’s taste but he could tell that the owner went out of his way to accommodate him. Crowley frowned again. What on earth was he doing here, pondering over google reviews while sitting on the floor because there was no socket next to the bed? It was cold and uncomfortable in spite of the room’s fluffy carpet. This was really absurd. On the spur of the moment, he decided to rearrange the furniture a bit. He pushed the bed closer to the wall with the socket – and almost tripped over the numerous boxes under the bed. Probably where the Easter decorations were stored…

There was a soft knock on the door. “Er, just wondering, is everything alright?”

“Yeah, just perfect,” Crowley grunted and then sneezed heartily because his activity had raised quite a bit of dust from under the bed. (He would have to rethink that five-star review.) He pushed the bed further towards the wall until he could sit comfortably on the bed with his charger cable still plugged in. Only to get a notification that his phone was not connected to the internet. Well, he was tired anyway. He removed a Santa figurine and eight wooden reindeers from the bedside table so he could place his glasses and a cup of water there. Then he sank back into the bed. It squeaked loudly.

“Fuck.”