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black-white-and-red-all-over · 1 year ago

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Serpentine (Natasha Romanoff x OC) - Chapter One

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SHIELD PERSONNEL C-019831690 RESTRICTED ACCESS: Director's Permission Required ———————————————————————— File Type: Mission Report (102) - Incident Report (67) - Witness' Statement (23) - Personal (56)

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L O A D I N G . . .

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On a dreary night in Brooklyn, Director Nicholas Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D. walks with a stiffness in his step and a grimace on his face.

His dark coat catches the light mist that has settled on the sidewalk with every footfall, spinning it in clouds around his feet that exaggerate their militaristic gait. The director's gloved hands are shoved in stiff, leather pockets to avoid the light drizzle which leaves beads of water rolling down his shoulders. The man's eyes dart from left to right, analysing every movement however slight it would seem to the usual passerby.

Overall, his silhouette emanates an aura of danger that most on the street shy away from.

However, looking closely enough, nearly imperceptible anxiety reveals itself in the stiffness of his shoulders. It is only once Fury approaches the emerald green door of a white brownstone on Carroll Street that he lets his habitual grimace fall and — after one final scan ahead and behind — makes his way to the stoop.

He raises a hand to knock.

As expected, the door swings open before he can touch it to a dimly lit and noticeably empty entryway. The only indication of anybody home is a scratchy record of Guy Lombardo's "Give Me the Moon Over Brooklyn" playing jovially beyond his line of sight.

Although the director quickly glances past the threshold, he seems to anticipate that he doesn't find anyone there to greet him. Instead, it is only the slight creak of shifting weight on wood that alerts him to the presence of his host.

"Lovely to see you, Nick. Boots off and set by the door, coat on the rack. I'll start a pot," calls a dulcet, strangely accented voice from further inside the apartment.

Fury lightly scoffs, but steps through the door and shrugs off his coat anyway. He considers the gun holstered against his hip, wondering if he should leave it at the door or-

"Additionally, you can drop that paranoia of yours. It's giving me a headache," the voice calls once again, assuring him of the decision he should make. "Rest assured that no one with less than savoury intentions walks this street without me knowing about it."

The man rolls his eyes, all the while hanging his coat — holster and gloves, as well — as per her request and making a point of closing the door with a sleeve pulled over his bare left hand.

"I see you haven't looked into the term 'welcome wagon' like I asked," Fury calls back to the disembodied voice, his own touched with a hint of annoyance.

Without any sound this time to signify her nearness, a woman suddenly passes in front of him with a coffee filter in her hand and a smirk on her lips. Her alabaster complexion blends perfectly with short hair too white to be natural, so much so that he almost doesn't notice the equally pale ball python resting at her throat.

"Can't say I have, Nick. Now, I know removing your coat must've been quite distressing, but the boots need to go too. House rules."

Fury glares at her slightly, but nonetheless pulls off his boots. A triumphant edge to her smirk appears as he does, but it vanishes the moment he stands straight and theatrically gestures to his boots, which now sit neatly on a tray by the door.

"Thank you, kindly," the woman quips before turning swiftly into the area to the right of the doorway, gesturing for her guest to follow.

As he trails behind her, Fury isn't surprised to find that the house still reflects her severe appearance. Everything is in some shade of black, white or green, barring a few small accents of a brilliant amber, and every piece of furniture is either antique or meant to look that way. His host is certainly an old soul, though much more literally than most people realise.

Fury eventually settles onto a sofa next to the record player, which has moved on to another song. In the kitchen across from him, the woman begins to scoop coffee grounds into the filter with her left hand, the snake now curled around her right. Against the deep black of her attire and the cabinetry, she and the python seem to eerily glow in comparison to their surroundings.

"Now, milk? Or are we brooding and taking coffee black today?"

Fury sends a look to his host's back, which she holds calmly after gracefully pivoting to meet it. A short staring match later, her opponent relents begrudgingly.

"Milk."

His host's eyes brighten slightly as she turns to finish her task without another word.

In the meantime, the director continues to scan his surroundings. After a moment, his eyes come to rest on the small table in front of him, and something atop it prompts him to raise a brow curiously.

"So... you knew I was coming?"

The woman is confused by his meaning at first, but realises as she approaches the coffee maker that a fresh pot already sits inside of it. She looks perplexed for a moment, but nonetheless exchanges the filter in her hand for a mug. After pouring the still steaming drink, she makes her way to Fury only to notice that milk and sugar have already been laid out as well.

She sets down his coffee soundlessly and takes the seat adjacent from him with nothing more than a shrug.

"It would seem that someone did," she says lowly, a small smile masking the annoyance that lingers in her eyes.

Fury nods slightly. He seems to understand the meaning behind her cryptic statement, but nonetheless continues to eye her carefully.

"And yet, even with a warning, that blasted snake is still here."

The woman's amber eyes snap to his, issuing a challenge that she knows neither of them would like to lose.

"Oh, hush. Trygve is a perfectly respectable snake, and better company than you could ever be."

As if to prove a point, the python -- Trygve -- flicks her tongue and 'kisses' her owner's cheek.

Fury chuckles, crossing one leg over the other and draping an arm over the back of the couch. He's relaxed slightly, a feat not many people could hope to achieve while hosting the notoriously paranoid man. It's a strange look on him, for sure, but a welcome one all the same.

"If that thing is better company than I am, I want to hear it tell a joke. I suppose I could concede to slam poetry if it was really good," he jokes lightheartedly.

In response, the woman teasingly lets the snake glide between her hands and watches Nick's eyes follow it nervously. After a moment, she lets Trygve settle around her neck once again and her guest into his seat.

"Don't worry, Nick, I'm only teasing. Tryg could never compete with your sunny disposition, and while her slam poetry is quite good, I'm not sure her jokes are up to par." Fury's eyebrows raise the smallest bit, sensing something tricky in her compliment. Even so, he knows better than to interrupt. "However, you should still call her by her name. It's rude not to."

"I'm sure the snake is incredibly offended," Fury deadpans.

"Oh, she'll be inconsolable for days. Perhaps you should give her a fuzzy as a recompense?"

The man immediately cringes, but expertly hides it by leaning forward in his seat.

"I am not touching her, nor will I be touching anything that goes in her mouth."

"Too squeamish?" Fury looks mildly insulted, so she happily continues. "You've no problem with shooting a person, but deceased infant mice are too much for you to handle?"

The director puffs out his chest and sends her a challenging glare.

"I don't have to touch people to shoot them. That's how guns work." The woman across from him looks unconvinced and on the verge of laughter, which only gets him more worked up. "I also don't feed those people to snakes once they've kicked the bucket!"

"So it's the fact that it's dead?" she says with a marginally darker smirk than before. Her hand moves toward the hollow of her throat. "It doesn't have to be."

The director instantly points a warning finger at her.

"You are not-" he starts, but stops as he sees her smile widen mischievously. "What exactly are you trying to accomplish here?"

The trickster proudly raises her chin a touch.

"Absolutely nothing. Just wanted to see how long I could get you to talk about your fear of snakes — and rodents, apparently — before you noticed," she says arrogantly, relishing the look of disbelief that appears on Nick's features before he ultimately slips away from his usually calm and collected demeanour.

"Why are you so determined to mock me every time I come into your house? First it was my badge-"

"You weren't looking at the camera."

"-then it was the eyepatch-"

"Now, you can't blame me for that."

"-and now it's my thing about mice. Why I continue to-"

Neither says anything as the blonde proudly leans back in her seat. A pregnant silence ensues, neither party willing to concede, until Fury slowly leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. His tormentor does the same, narrowing her eyes and fashioning her expression into one of mock seriousness.

"Alex, if you say anything about this, to anyone, and I will personally throw your ass out of the Helicarrier."

"Not to worry, director. My lips are sealed," she says cheekily.

Fury tries to decide if she's being truthful or not as she bounces back into her previous position, but his companion — Alex — pulls herself out of her seat before he can decide. She moves to a large terrarium against the wall and carefully sets Trygve inside of it before turning back to see Nick finishing off the last of his coffee. She holds out an expectant — albeit hesitant — hand, but he waves her off and gets up. Instead of letting his host handle the dishes, Fury moves toward the nearest sink and washes out the mug, purposefully using his sleeves to touch the faucet, and carefully sets it on a drying rack.

Alex approaches and rests a hip against the counter, her serious expression noticeably more genuine than before.

"Not that I don't enjoy your visits, but why are you here, Nick?" She asks, her mixed accent warping the words slightly.

The man sighs and crosses his arms heavily.

"Coulson called about a situation at PEGASUS — said that Selvig is having some issues with the Cube. I don't have much more than that, but I figured you'd want to be there when we take a look at it."

She nods, unsurprised by the news.

"I would. I trust Selvig with it, but... my being there would at least provide a safety net if something goes awry."

"My thoughts exactly," Fury affirms, but watches curiously as the woman whom he'd come to know as a friend goes the slightest bit rigid. He takes note of where his hands are and realises that he'd absentmindedly rested one on the counter.

When he removes it and wipes the spot with his sleeve, Alex relaxes a bit and begins moving toward the front door. Fury follows and begins to gather his things.

"Well then, consider my time off interrupted. Just know you'll have to answer to Natasha when she gets back," she remarks stiffly, although some humour slightly slips back into her voice.

Fury, having not considered those particular repercussions of pulling Alex from their little hideout, stops halfway into tying his boots.

"Will she be in a good mood?" he asks.

Alex chuckles in response.

"She's doing a reverse interrogation this time around, so you might get away with your life."

"Good to know." Fury pivots once they reach the foyer, once again stoically staring down into his hosts unnaturally amber eyes. "I'll give you 10 minutes. Car's outside when you're ready."

"I'll be there in 5."

With that, Nick quickly throws a mock salute her way. She returns it with a practised grin and watches him get into a black van. Only when he disappears behind the tinted windows does she shut the door and get to work.

The ghostly girl wastes no time taking several wipes from a container by the door and meticulously disinfecting the doorknob and coat rack, then retreating back into the sitting room to wipe down any and all of the things that her guest had touched. After giving the same ritualistic treatment to the kitchen in turn, she goes to Trygve's terrarium and checks the humidity gauge along with a chart which ensures she's been fed recently.

Once satisfied with the state of the two more pressing rooms, Alex takes a box of tea from the counter and ascends a staircase that hugs the wall of the entryway. Once on the landing, she glides into the bathroom to retrieve a small pouch, inside of which are more wipes, various disinfectants, and gloves. In addition to the pouch, she retrieves a bottle of pills and another case from the medicine cabinet.

With too many things balancing in her arms, Alex next enters her bedroom. After dropping her collection of items and some extra clothing into a leather suitcase, she slides a pair of black gloves onto her hands and makes her way back to the bottom floor. Once there, the woman pulls a small glass rectangle from her pocket which lights up and reveals itself as a high-tech cell phone.

Alex scrolls through her contacts until clicking on one labelled 'Itsy Bitsy', which is settled quite near to the top.

Today 9:54 PM

"Time off interrupted yet again. Heading out to PEGASUS. See you at base."

"O.K. I'll give the boss a pummeling for you when I get back :)"

"Try not to kill him, will you?"

"I make no promises. Be careful <3"

"You too, love. See you soon."

Read at 9:57 PM

A content smile appears on Alex's lips as she grabs a coat from the rack and shrugs it on. Just as she's next slipped on a pair of flats and reached for the doorknob, her eyes are drawn back to her record player. Regardless of the fact that it will stop on its own, Alex walks over to halt the track and slide the record into its case. Once more she almost moves toward the door, but stops abruptly with a conflicted look on her features — after a few moments of pondering, she turns back to her record collection.

It takes a few moments of shifting things around, but she finally pulls out a worn record of Nick DeFrancis' "Fly Me to the Moon" and carefully turns it over to reveal a small note on one edge of the casing.

Still waiting! Love, Howie.

Regardless of the cute nature of the note, not even a flicker of a smile appears on her face. Instead, Alex simply places the gift at the base of her briefcase before turning off the lights and exiting her apartment with haste.

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When Alex eventually spots his car, she looks inside to see a freshly wiped seat and an impatient Nicholas Fury. She slips in and sets the briefcase at her feet while Fury puts the car into gear.

"Thank you, Nick," she says quietly.

He seems to notice the shift in her mood, but doesn't say anything about it.

"Well I've gotta keep you happy somehow, or you might make the Tesseract blow up on purpose."

"It'd take a bit more than not wiping down a seat."

"You gonna let me know where the line is?" he inquires while blatantly running a red light.

The woman looks over at him with a raised brow.

"Somewhere between running a red and kicking a puppy," she scolds.

Nick simply looks over at her with an innocent smile.

"I'll be sure to stay away from puppies, then. Can't let myself get tempted."

"That's awful."

"I wasn't the one who brought it up!"

Finally, a short laugh escapes Alex's lips as she shakes her head.

"I suppose we can call it a tie, then."

Fury seems to accept that answer, so he turns his attention back to driving. A comfortable silence blankets the air between them. Alex turns her head to look out the window and spots Stark Tower rising above the Manhattan skyline. She wonders for a moment whether the gaudiness of the building truly reflects the character of the man who inhabits it. From what she'w heard from Natasha, it certainly did.

Then again, she has more than enough reason to doubt that.

"So, how was time off treating you before I showed up?" Fury asks, breaking the silence and pulling Alex out of her wonderment.

She sighs somewhat defeatedly.

"It was alright. Very quiet, but I suppose that was the point. Anyhow, it's not getting any less irritable."

Fury grimaces a bit, but doesn't let his disappointment show too much.

"Have you found anything that calms it down?"

Alex thinks for a moment, but Nick can immediately tell that she isn't coming up with much.

"As of right now, very few things. Natasha's started teaching me ballet, and it seems to enjoy her company, so that's a step in the right direction. Other than that, though..." Nick gives her a look, which she returns. "Look, I'm managing it. Not particularly well, but I am. It's proving to be a bit difficult, as per usual."

Alex's eyes flare a brighter yellow for a moment and her attention goes elsewhere. Her eyes roll at nothing in particular.

Nick carefully averts his gaze and sighs heavily.

"What are the chances of you just... talking to it?"

"I do talk to it — I am talking to it — but I won't be giving it free rein until I know it isn't going to react like that every time it thinks I'm being threatened."

"From what you've told me, that's next to impossible," Nick responds carefully.

Alex lets her shoulders drop, discouraged.

"It's going to have to adjust. As much as I know it's only acting on its nature, it can't be lashing out at people that don't deserve it."

She looks guilty — afraid, even — as she says it, and Nick can't help but notice. He grips the steering wheel a bit tighter.

"Alex, I'm gonna be straight with you. I'd like you back in action as soon as possible, and being alone isn't going to make this situation any better."

The girl's eyes widen and her head cocks to one side, imagining all of the ways that the arrangement he's imagining could go wrong.

"As long as it's being this protective, I'm not sure I trust it around people," she says hesitantly.

Nick chuckles a bit.

"The people you spend time with aren't necessarily breakable. I'm sure they could handle a few days of readjusting."

Alex looks out the window once again, contemplating his words. She knows he's been right about most things of this nature in the past. However, there is an ever-worsening sensation in her gut that tells her this might be one of the rare occasions that he's wrong.

She takes a deep breath in and out before settling on a decision.

Don't think this means I'm not still mad at you.

"Fine. But if someone else gets hurt, it'll be on you."

"I trust you won't let that happen."

Unfortunately, Alex knows that his trust means very little to the voice in the back of her head, and it's not at all worried about breaking it.

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A/N: Hello everyone! Please remember to vote and comment if you are enjoying the story, as updates will heavily depend on interest. Welcome to Serpentine! (Note: This is reposted from my Wattpad account. Please do not repost without giving credit or replicate in any way.)

#writing snippet #marvel cinematic universe #black widow #natasha romanoff #avengers #nick fury #fanfiction #marvel

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megamijadeheart · 2 years ago

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So: body measurement!

This can be tough for some people because our bodies don't always match what we feel we should look like. But it's important to document the space you take up so you can calculate a surface area that encloses it. You've got this. Those numbers don't define your value as a person.

Torso:

A: neck circumference

B: chest circumference

C: bust circumference

D: rib circumference

E: waist circumference

F hip circumference at widest point

M: neck to shoulder

N: shoulder to shoulder

O: chest width (measured peak to peak, often distance between nipples)

P: hip width (measured straight across visually)

Q: chest to bust on side

R: bust to ribs on side

S: ribs to waist on side

T: waist to widest point of hips

X: chin to collarbone

Y: collarbone to bust on front

Z: bust to waist on front

A’ (pronounced “a prime”): peak of bust to underarm

B’: back length from C7* to waist. (*the last neck vertebrae, it is visible as a nob on skinny folks and a divot or nitch on bulkier peeps)

C’: armpit to waist (should equal Q+R+S)

D’: hip to hip from the midline around the back across the widest part of butt

Leg:

G: thigh circumference

H: calf circumference

I: ankle circumference

V: waist to knee

W: waist to ankle

(If making boots, tightly fitted leggings, or stockings: knee circ, T to G, G to knee, knee to H, H to I can be helpful. Fitting a foot is A Whole Thing that I will not cover here)

Arm:

J: bicep circumference

K: lower arm circumference

L: wrist circumference

U: length of arm to wrist

(Gloves are also A Whole Thing for later lol)

When I was looking for the pictures of my Peach Skirt, I found a set of instructions I started drawing up for how to measure a body for bespoke or custom fit tailoring. I'm going to include the photos here and reply to my own thread a few times with instructions.

Note: the labels say "female" but these same measurements can be used on literally any body.

Note': feel free to use these and print out the provided pattern if it helps you! Please consider leaving a tip if you do <3

#support artists #my art #hand sewing #sewing #pattern drafting #custom clothing

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iandiareisland · 4 years ago

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May your dreams fly as as high as Heesung’s leg

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foilfreak · 3 years ago

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Beauty and Her Beast: Chapter 7 (aka the ‘big boobie vampire mommy’ and ’mutant servant girl that is very horny for her’ chapter)

WARNING PLZ READ BEFORE CONTINUING: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

(AO3 link below:)

“Good evening, sir. Is there something I can assist you with, tonight? It’s quite late, and my mistress has already retired for the evening due to the strenuous nature of today’s events, so while I’m sure the good Lady Dimitrescu won’t be too terribly displeased if you’ve come with urgent news that requires her immediate attention, I’m afraid anything outside the realm of absolute importance will have to wait until morning, when my mistress will be better rested and therefore better able to address whatever concern you’ve brought” The low and smooth voice of an older teenage girl said, staring slightly downward at Salvatore with a level of such blank indifference that he would have wondered if the girl hadn’t seen him had she not outright greeted him upon opening the door.

With piercing red eyes, dark skin and long, black curls tied up neatly and carefully into two thick buns on either side of the top of her head, and dressed in a pretty, but still practical dress, the older teen looked every bit as much the role of a dignified estate’s head servant as she acted, right down to the pencil straight stiffness of her body. Despite how uncomfortable the stiff position looked to Salvatore, the subtly bold way she carried herself did give the older teen an air of confidence and reliability, however what it didn’t do was answer the multitude of questions flying around in Salvatore’s head about who she was, and more importantly, where she came from.

And then it hit him.

“Y-you’re… Alcina’s g-gift… aren’t y-you?” Salvatore asks aloud, though seemingly more to himself than the girl standing in front of him. Said girl furrows her brows in confusion for a moment before huffing in, what appeared to be, mild offense. Though what on earth Salvatore could have done to offend the young teen, he had absolutely no idea.

“I have no idea what you mean when talking about these so called “gifts”, however I think it's important for you to know that I am a very busy woman with a great many things to do, so if this is all some kind of sick game you’re playing to waste my time then I’m going to have to politely ask that you take your rotten whale behind and go throw yourself into the nearest body of-”

“Anastasia?” a low, feminine voice booms from somewhere behind the older teen standing before him. The girl immediately stiffens, her skin around her nose and cheeks darkening even further, her eyes growing wide and her breath catching in her throat as she turns around. Immediately abandoning Salvatore at the still open front door, the young servant clumsily made her way further into the room before disappearing out of the narrow view the hooded man had been given of the castle through the crack in the door.

Taking a step forward and opening the door enough to slip inside, making sure to close it securely behind him, Salvatore lingered along the walls of the room, merely observing the events before him unfold as the young girl, Anastasia, quickly moved to stand in the center of the circular design on the floor of the entrance hall. Waiting for her on the landing at the top of the stairs was none other than the lady of the house herself, Alcina Dimitrescu, standing as tall, proud, and intimidating as Salvatore last remembers, though it would appear that the disfigured man’s fear of the much larger woman was not shared amongst everyone in the room.

“Y-yes Lady Dimitrescu! Is there something I can do for you this evening, my Lady?” Anastasia asks, hands clasped together in front of her and eyes blown wide at the gargantuan woman leering from above, like a lovesick puppy dog waiting for a command from its beloved owner. Eager to perform. Eager to please.

“Why yes, my sweet, I was just wondering what on earth all that racket was and if it could wait until morning to be finished? The girls and I have had quite the taxing day and I do so wish to retire to the sound of peace and quiet” Alcina coos warmly, causing Salvatore to pause in confusion.

“Oh goodness, I apologize, mistress. It’s just that there was a visitor at the door and despite my repeated attempts to convince him to come back when you were rested, he insisted upon making a nuisance of himself. Please forgive me if my attempts to preserve your restful evening were for naught” the girl said sadly, bowing deeply in apology as she continued to speak.

Alcina practically purrs in delight at the teen’s polite, but genuine behavior. “Fear not, my dear, I had only just taken off my earrings when I heard the commotion. I came out here merely to see if things were getting out of control, but it would appear as though you’ve handled things perfectly.”

The girlish blush on Anastasia’s face only darkens in color as the young teen casts her adoring gaze to the floor, joyous glee from having been praised by her mistress evident all over the younger girl’s body.

Not wanting to stay here any longer than absolutely necessary, especially if this is what he’d have to witness the whole time, Salvatore gathers all of his strength and uses it to clear his throat and take a step forward, revealing himself to both women as he gingerly comes out into the light.

“YOU!” Anastasia yells, immediately turning on her heel and making a beeline toward the increasingly anxious Salvatore. “So not only have you made enough of a nuisance of yourself to disturb the lovely Lady Dimitrescu just as she’s about to retire and rest from a very long and taxing day, but now you’ve decided that you’re so above everyone else that you can just waltz right into someone else’s home without even the slightest hint of respect or admiration for the incredible woman living in it, how dare you be so crash and selfish you overcooked blowfish, exit this castle immediately, or I’ll shove my boot so far up your rear end you’ll be fishing around for it for weeks you-”

“Anastasia, calm yourself, dear” the loud, but calming sound of Alcina’s voice said, causing the young teen to pause in her angry scolding of Salvatore.

“My Lady?” The young teen asks, dutifully awaiting orders.

“Let the wretched man inside, he’s the furthest thing from a threat to us, even if he is an annoying little manthing. Although, I’d be lying if I said a visit from you at this hour of night is something I’ve come to expect of you, dearest elder brother.”

The disfigured man swallowed thickly as he stepped past Anastasia to fully face his other younger sister, who looked all the more intimidating from her looming perch upon the upper story.

“I-I know this is s-sudden…” Salvatore begins, hoping he’d at least be able to explain himself before Alcina tossed him back outside on his ass.

“I’ll certainly say” Anastasia bursts in angrily, but she’s quickly silenced and sent away to tend to her other duties by Alcina, who motions for Salvatore to ascend the large set of stairs leading up to the rest of the castle and join her on the landing for a moment.

“Spunky little thing, isn’t she?” Alcina says when Salvatore finally makes it to the top of the stairs, panting slightly as he follows the much taller mutant’s gaze to the door that Anastasia had just exited the room from.

“Th-that’s certainly… one way… o-of putting it” Salvatore stutters, not wanting to offend Alcina by calling her servant rude, but clearly not seeing what’s so great about someone who just yells at you a lot the second you walk through the door.

“Yes! She apparently received a strain of cadou that was quite similar to mine, however her need to consume blood to maintain herself is far more similar to that of leeches. Rather than having to consume it regularly in smaller doses, like myself, she’ll only require one feeding every few weeks or so, which I thought was quite interesting. The only issues Mother Miranda brought up was the fact that her hunger, if it gets bad enough, can trigger both her transformation, as well as some sort of feral and animalistic meltdown that only ends once she’s finally had her fill. Apparently more than a few villagers were lost in the process of learning this information” Alcina comments casually, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Mother only brought her over earlier today, just before dinner, and yet she’s already managed to carve quite the little space for herself here. I hadn’t realized how dirty this place was without any girls left to take from the village until she went through and washed all the walls in the west wing spotless. It was like night and day, I could hardly believe how open and bright the halls looked” Alcina stated.

“W-wow… so th-then… d-do you think y-you’ll keep her a-around… long term?” Salvatore asks curiously, craning his neck so he could get a better look at his sister’s face.

“Perhaps. I’m certainly thinking about it. Not only is she an incredibly hard and fast worker, but she’s also got such a lovely spark of energy and excitement to her, and she’s always very polite and respectful, if a bit obvious in her “admiration” of those she looks up to… not that that’s a bad thing, necessarily. It’s quite sweet, actually!”

“S-she did look… q-quite taken… by y-you” Salvatore comments, having noticed the girl’s far-too-eager-to-be-innocent disposition when Alcina was in the room, vs. when it was just him. Not that it was a terribly surprising turn of events. Alcina, for all her monstrous height and sheer mutant bulk, was still a very beautiful, and very desirable woman at the end of the day, meanwhile Salvatore was only about 2 rolls of the genetic dice away from sharing a more recent common ancestor with the blobfish than he did humans.

“I know, isn’t she adorable? She came exactly like this, too. Mother Miranda has no idea if this is a result of the mutation process or if it's merely her former personality finally returning now that she’s awake and out of containment, but I suppose the logistics of things aren’t really important in the end. I'm so glad I chose her over the other two, I don’t know what I would have done had such a promising and delectable little morsel like her go to waste on the rest of you imbeciles” Alcina coos in amusement. “Regardless of what Mother Miranda said however, I was almost certain this whole “gift” situation was going to be nothing more than a pile of useless drivel that I’d be left to clean up all on my own once the novelty wore off, however after having Anastasia here for these past few hours, and seeing all that she’s willing and capable of doing, I’m beginning to wonder if perhaps I’d been too hasty in my final decision.”

“Funny… K-Karl thought m-much the… th-the same thing i-initially… w-when I t-talked to him… th-the other day… th-though… knowing him… I doubt h-he’s having q-quite as much… of a ch-change of heart… as you a-are” Salvatore said suddenly, more than anything due to the incredible shock that was the concept of Alcina and Karl sharing a similar opinion, at the same time, while both occupying the same dimension of reality.

Alcina’s face immediately turns sour at the mention of Karl. “Oh, did he now? That’s an unfortunate thing to learn,” she says in annoyance, clearly displeased by the notion of agreeing with Karl on anything.

“Y-yes… he… he th-thinks that maybe… M-Mother might b-be using the g-gifts… to d-distract us w-while she’s g-gone away… o-on her mission… b-but that maybe… sh-she also wants… s-something else out of a-all this… something… th-that she isn’t t-telling us… f-for some reason” Salvatore explains, unsure if he should be revealing all this information to Alcina, notorious and open critic of Karl and quite literally everything the younger man has ever done and said, is doing and saying, and will do and say sometime in the span of his chaotic lifespan.

Contrary to what Salvatore assumed, however, instead of looking bored and uninterested in what Karl thought about this whole situation, Alcina looked just the slightest bit… intrigued, if still clearly wary. “Really? And what, pray tell, does our dear sweet little brother Heisenberg believe will come of this whole situation then? Did he say?”

“H-he… he never m-mentioned anything s-specific… but he th-thinks that the g-gifts… might p-play a l-larger role… in all th-this… than M-Mother has been l-leading us to believe.”

“I see,” Alcina says, remaining silent for a moment as she thinks, looking almost concerned by what she’s heard. “And what do you think of this whole mess, Salvatore?”

“U-um… well… I-I think it’s nice… th-that Mother trusts us e-enough… to g-give us her p-previous experiments… and u-use them however w-we want… b-but I’d be l-lying if I s-said… that I d-didn’t think Karl… was o-onto something… I-I don’t know w-what I believe to be t-true a-at the moment… but I d-do know… th-that I’d like t-to give… g-give a gift of m-my own… to Nadine… and that… and that y-you might be… s-someone else who c-could help me… w-with that” the hooded man explains nervously, hoping that Alcina was in a good enough mood to feel like humoring him and his sudden request.

“Nadine?” The tall, pale woman asks in confusion, before suddenly nodding in understanding. “Ah, your gift…”

Salvatore nods. “D-Donna… is f-fashioning a n-new dress… for her… a-and even gave me… this b-beautiful nightgown… to hold h-her over until… until the real one is c-complete. I th-think she w-will… e-enjoy the nightgown b-but… but I’d like to… l-like to get her something else t-too… like a… like a necklace… a-a gold one… o-one that w-would… c-complement her skin tone… j-just right.”

Alcina briefly stares at Salvatore with a blank expression, momentarily making the hooded man worry that he’d overstepped his boundaries and said something to offend the much larger woman. His nerves are thankfully calmed when Alcina turns and orders Salvatore to follow after her, which the disfigured man happily does if it means what he thinks it means.

The two siblings arrive at Alcina’s personal chambers just as Anastasia is exiting them, her arms filled by a large basket of blood soaked towels and clothes, some collected from Alcina’s room, the others likely from either Bela, Cassandra, or Daniela’s rooms.

“Good evening, Lady Dimitrescu! Are you finally retiring for the evening?” Anastasia asks, bowing cheerfully as she finally notices her mistress approaching her. “I’ve already gone ahead and prepared your bed for you, as well as collected all the soiled laundry from today’s harvest. Is there anything else I can do for you tonight?”

“Thank you, my dear, but not quite, I have one more matter to attend to before I fully turn in. Since you were so kind to offer however, I would greatly appreciate it if, once Lord Moreau and I are finished with our affairs, you would be so kind as to escort him to the front door and bid him a good night, for me. You are free to retire to your own chambers for the evening once he’s left” Alcina orders softly, which the young girl obediently nods her head to.

“Of course, mistress, thank you very much! And I’d be happy to see Lord Moreau out for you, so please don’t hesitate to call me once you’re finished with your meeting” Anastasia says, bowing lowly to both Alcina and Salvatore before wordlessly skittering off to do… whatever it was she planned on doing to those dirty garments.

“Now, about that gift you were talking about” Alcina says upon entering her personal bedroom, immediately striding over to her vanity and beginning to sift through several boxes worth of jewelry, “you said you wanted gold, correct? And a necklace specifically?”

“Y-yes! I-if you have anything y-you’re willing to… g-give away… of course… I’d feel t-terrible taking something i-if it meant a g-great deal to you” Salvatore answers, standing awkwardly in the doorway as he waits for Alcina to return to him with whatever she finds.

Of all 3 of his siblings, Alcina was the one Salvatore was easily the least close to, despite having been the only two around for a considerable amount of time before the eventual arrivals of both Donna and then Karl. It wasn’t that Salvatore was displeased when Mother Miranda first informed him that he’d be getting a “sibling” all those years ago, but Alcina’s natural personality, coupled with her terrifying size and strength from the mutations, had made the very meek and timid Salvatore hesitant to reach out and form any kind of sibling bond with the younger woman, like he had with Karl.

Karl was a royal pain in the ass to deal with on even his best days, but at the end of it all, there’s still only so much a 6 year old can do to you, anger issues and mutant metal bending powers or not. Alcina was both a royal pain in the ass to deal with more often than not, but also a fully grown adult when she first joined the family, so needless to say the 2 oldest siblings hadn’t been given very many appropriately opportune moments to bond or get along.

That being said however, the simple but elegant golden locket that Alcina procures from one of her many boxes of jewelry has Salvatore wondering if maybe he had misjudged Alcina, having never expected her to show him something as luxurious and real-looking as this, especially when the understanding was that she’d be giving it away whatever item of jewelry Salvatore took a liking to.

“This is an old locket I received for my 3rd birthday from a relative who died long before I was old enough to care about who they were, though all those diamond star details on the front do make me think they could have been close with us at one point, or perhaps they just had that much money to throw around? It’s an old and well-loved piece of my collection, but Duke has been bringing back such wonderful treasures from his travels that I just have to start getting rid of some of these old sentimental trinkets so I can make room for all the new additions I plan on purchasing once he finally returns” Alcina explains, gingerly handing the necklace over to Salvatore, who could do nothing but gawk at how extravagant and, to be perfectly honest, expensive the necklace looked.

With 4 small diamonds, likely real knowing Alcina, embedded into the surface of the locket’s front cover, surrounded by small engravings that give the glimmering stones the appearance of stars in the night sky, the necklace looked like it belonged upon the neck of a fair and noble princess, into which the radiant beauty could then place the photo of the man who’d stollen her innocent heart. Nadine wasn’t actually a princess and Salvatore all but gagged at the idea of a picture of his face, mutated or not, being put somewhere for anyone to see, however the necklace was far too perfect for the hooded man to possibly turn it down.

“So what do you think? Will something like this do?” The taller woman asks, curiously. “I could continue looking if that isn’t quite what you’re after, however if that is the case, then I would like to politely request that you come back and look at them tomorrow. It's already so late and I’d have to have the rest of my collection fetched from the vault downstairs.”

“N-no no… th-that’s alright… this i-is perfect… thank y-you… Alcina… this w-was very k-kind of you to do… f-for me” Salvatore says, carefully tucking the glittering necklace into the bag Donna had placed the nightgown in.

“Don’t fret about it too much, I only did it because I had a bit of time to spare prior to going to bed, and you happened to catch me in a good mood. That’s it” Alcina states firmly, though something in the back of Salvatore’s head can’t help but take the taller woman’s words with a grain of salt, feeling as though there was more to Alcina’s sudden generosity than just pure coincidence. “Besides, who knows what gaudy thing you’d have shown up with had you not made the surprisingly wise decision to invoke Donna’s and my vastly superior knowledge of the feminine experience. I don’t even want to think of what tacky little trinket you’d have tried to gift her. Why the thought of that alone is enough to make me want to run for the hills, how on earth do you think your poor little gift would have felt? I’d have had to murder you on the spot if I found out you tried to pass some disgusting pile of garbage off as an appropriate gift. In fact, if I didn’t know that Donna was working on a more fitting dress for her already, I’d have half a mind to skin you alive for only having a flimsy nightgown to take back with you, but I doubt any of the dresses I have, that would be appropriate to wear with that kind of necklace anyways, would come close to fitting her, and I really do want to start making room for some newer, more exciting pieces. So, with all that in mind, count your blessings that the stars have aligned in your favor tonight, dear brother, because I won’t be doing this for you again… unless, you’d be willing to do me a few favors in exchange for some of the other pieces of my collection, that is.”

Aaaaaaaaaaand there’s the Alcina that Salvatore knows and secretly likes. In vehement denial that she feels anything positive for her 3 siblings and also actively trying to get someone else to do her dirty work for her. It's certainly not how the hooded man prefers to operate, but he supposes that if Alcina can somehow convince everyone around her to do all of her work for her, why wouldn’t she take advantage of that as much as possible?

“I-I think that’s e-enough… for t-tonight actually… maybe i-if I decide I’d l-like to get her s-something else… I’ll c-consider that offer y-you brought up” Salvatore says, bowing politely to his sister as he makes his desire to leave obvious.

Thankfully, Alcina seems more than happy to send her older brother on his way, calling Anastasia to come lead Salvatore back to the front door so he could finally begin making his way home.

“Th-thank you again… Alcina… I really a-appreciate this… an-and I'm sure Nadine w-will love the gift t-too” Salvatore says just as he’s about to bid Alcina goodnight and begin following the young servant girl.

“Yes, yes, you’re very grateful of my wondrous kindness to you, I know, you’ve made that fact more than clear already, brother” the taller woman says with an only mildly annoyed roll of her eyes as she stands just outside the door to her chambers. “Just make sure you don’t waste the opportunity my graciousness has afforded you, do you understand?”

Salvatore stiffens nervously as Alcina shoots him a pointed look that screams ‘don’t fuck this up or I’ll fuck you up’, a threat which the hooded man knows she’ll make good on, should Salvatore make it necessary for her to do so. Salvatore wasn’t sure how Alcina had picked up on the nature of his budding affections for Nadine so quickly, or how she seemed to instinctively know what he was planning despite having never asked directly, but clearly she’d noticed something and was now in the process of making the matter of whether Salvatore successfully courted his gift her business.

Heavens above have mercy upon whomever is unlucky enough to have their problematic situation noticed and meddled with by Alcina Dimitrescu.

“Y-yes… I u-understand… an-and I’ll be s-sure not to w-waste... waste the g-golden opportunity you’ve g-given me… OH! An-and Donna w-wants her mannequins b-back... too… sh-she wanted m-me to tell y-you” Salvatore replies, his anxiety only mildly calmed when Alcina makes a face at the mention of Donna’s yet-to-be-returned-still mannequins.

“Oh for goodness sakes, I always forgot about those stupid things. Anastasia?”

“Yes, Mistress?” The young servant dutifully answers.

“Please make a note to remind me to have Heisenberg come by so he can collect and return the manequins Donna leant me while I was commissioning some dresses from her earlier this month. That foul-mouthed mutt owes me a favor, and so if all goes the way I’d like I’ll be making this his problem in the morning” Alcina says devilishly, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Of course, Lady Dimitrescu, I’ll be sure to remind you of that first thing tomorrow morning” Anastasia replies warmly, though her amicable grin is quickly replaced by a flush and a girlish giggle when Alcina waves and turns on her heel, swaying her hips in an obvious fashion before bending down to enter through the door of her chambers.

Salvatore passed exceptionally confused glances back and forth between his sister and the young servant standing in front of him, totally clueless as to what just unfolded a moment ago as a feeling of disgust, the kind you get when you see something you wish you hadn’t, began to curl in the pit of his stomach. Whatever it was that was going on in the Dimitrescu house, and more importantly with their new servant girl, it was clearly none of Salvatore’s business. Not that he’d wanted it to be in the first place.

Salvatore had enough problems to deal with regarding his own gift, he didn’t have time to worry about whether or not Alcina was already making moves on hers.

“Have a safe journey home, and do make sure to stop by with Nadine if things turn out well between the two of you. Based on how today played out, it would seem as though things are about to get a lot more interesting around here… and a lot more fun too. Goodnight, Dear Brother” is all Alcina says before gently closing the door to her chambers, effectively ending their conversation without so much as a single word from Salvatore, not that he minded being handed the chance to finally get out of here, especially after… whatever the hell that exchange between Alcina and Anastasia was.

Best not to think too hard about it, probably, especially when there was another woman back at the reservoir who was much more deserving of Salvatore’s lustful and impure musings.

“Uuum… the front door is this way… Lord Moreau,” Anastasia says suddenly, her face still dark from embarrassment, though whether it was from her earlier treatment of him before she learned he was another Lord and not just some random man from the village, or from… that thing he just saw that he doesn’t feel like thinking about anymore, the hooded man couldn’t tell.

Nor did he particularly care to find out.

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onthecrosslook · 3 years ago

Text

Three Acts

Note: Fuck it, I’m just going to post this now. @call-me-moo.

Act Three

I dial Mary’s number on my dying mobile. “Do c...come in. It’s a little cramped…I must warn you.”

I’m sitting on a rickety old chair in an abandoned building. No, not even a building- a mere façade.

Just like Mary.

I shake away the thought and concentrate. I don’t have long before I start bleeding through the stitches. Every passing minute is crucial to both the plan and my survival.

I’ve already gotten through the bulk of the phone call with Mary. It’s mostly filler to keep her from storming inside and shooting me on sight, and it’s working so far.

Like scenes from a play...

She’ll be coming inside soon, judging from her initial distance from the building. It won’t be long now.

I can hear her breathing quicken over the line as my question grows more and more personal. “What do you want, Sherlock?” she growls, her voice lower than I’ve ever heard it.

“Mary Morstan...stillborn in 1972. Thought it’d be...a-awfully clever, taking her name like that,” I say softly, clutching my chest with my free hand. “It’s why you don’t have any...f-friends from before...then.”

Common enough tactic.

Mary’s sharp laugh rings out. “You don’t sound very well, Sherlock. Perhaps we should get you to a hospital.” Her voice lowers. “Or a morgue.”

“How...how good of a shot are you?” I ask, biding my time with the questions. I need to stall. Answers can come later, hopefully with John’s assistance.

Even so…

I need to know.

I can almost hear her smirk from the other side of the line. “How badly do you want to find out? I’d be more than happy to demonstrate. I can see you’re right in front of me, it would only take a single pull of the-“

“If you’re such a good shot…” I take a few shaky breaths and continue to interrupt her, “…th-then...demonstrate. Unf-fortunately, I don’t have any l...live targets, forgive me. You’ll h-have to...settle for a coin.” I force a weak laugh that makes my stomach ache and my labouring lungs burn. “That is...i-if you can…”

The line crackles a bit on her end. “You think you can bait me, Sherlock? I thought you knew me better than that.”

Yes, Mary.

Hook, line, and sinker.

“I want to...know how good you are,” I say encouragingly. “Go on...the doctor’s wife must b-be...rather bored, by now...Because…” I gasp for a much-needed breath.

“Because what?” she snaps, frustrated, as she adjusts the leather strap of her heavy purse.

Added weight of the gun. Obviously unaccustomed to carrying it around. Is she still a good shot?

“Because...you’re a psychopath...and p-psychopaths get bored.” I groan into my coat collar in pain. At this rate, I don’t know how long I’ll be able to hold out.

“Ha,” she scoffs. “I’ll entertain you, Sherlock. God knows you can’t have much left in you, anyway.” Mary pulls out a fifty-pence piece from her purse and holds it aloft. She glances above, gauging the height of the ceiling with a critical eye, and flips the coin in the air. In one swift move, she aims the gun and fires. A metallic clank is heard, and she smirks triumphantly.

I hang up the phone with a flourish. “Impressive,” I whisper, the faintest smile on my face visible in the flickering light.

Mary turns to look at me, clearly startled. “You’re…standing. Then who...Ah. I see. A dummy? Fairly obvious trick, don’t you think?” She slides the coin over to me with the tip of her boot.

I lean over with a grunt and pick it up, pausing only to examine it. I straighten up, the stabbing pain making it harder to stand. My breathing is growing more and more erratic, but I choose to ignore it in favour of my deductions.

Ordinary fifty-pence coin, no obvious assistive modifications. Hole where the 0.38mm bullet penetrated is precisely in the center. Fifteen-plus years in the killing business, at least. She’s a remarkable shot, I’ll give her that.

Not good enough, though.

“Impressed?” she asks, not a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

“Spectacularly...accurate sh-shot, yet you...failed to place...a kill. Sentiment, or d-did you...not want to...blow y-your cover?” It’s a risk to taunt her so openly, but unfortunately a risk I must take.

“Neither. John wasn’t supposed to come save you. The doorframe creaked fairly loudly and that alerted him. You would have died if it hadn’t been for my damn recklessness,” Mary snarls, looking more angry at herself than anyone else. “It’s not a mistake I’ll make again.”

Wait-

She raises her gun to my forehead.

-this isn’t how it’s supposed to-

I hear a click and a loud shot.

When I open my eyes again, I see Mary crumpled on the floor, her chest weakly moving up and down as blood leaks from her body, filling spaces it shouldn’t be. I can hardly breathe from the shock of seeing her so suddenly vulnerable.

“You...d-don’t...you didn’t…h-have a...g-gun…” she chokes out. “H-how…?”

“Sorry,” I hear a bitter voice behind her say, and suddenly John is standing there, his gun pointed straight ahead, and it all makes sense. “Not that obvious a trick.”

“John- b-but-“ I stutter out, my mouth moving, but hardly any noise coming out.

How…how did he…?

Mary groans loudly, and I move to ask him again, thinking perhaps he didn’t hear me.

“J-John…”

“You. You don’t get to speak,” John hisses, before leaning down to Mary’s side. “Mary, I can still…”

“N-no…” she says softly, obviously straining to sit up. “It’s...t-too late, John. I...I suppose...n-now I know how...Sh-Sherlock f-felt...Ah-!” She cries out in anguish and lifts a shaking hand to John’s face.

He doesn’t push her hand away. “You’re a pathetic liar, Mary. You lied to me, you shot my best friend, you- you-“ He’s practically hyperventilating with anger now, each breath harder than the next. “You killed our baby.”

Mary is eerily silent for a moment, but she nods eventually. “I d-did...John...Will...w-will it matter...i-if I say...I-I’m sorry…?”

“No,” he says honestly. His face is more pained than I have ever seen, contorted with unspoken rage and agony. “You’ve destroyed it all, Mary. I will never forgive you.”

“P-please…” she begs, clinging onto his collar with an almost frightening desperation. “I c-can’t go...n-not like this...J-John…”

“You should have thought about that…” John swallows back a sob, “...before you shot Sherlock.”

Tears stream down her pale, stricken face. “I th-think I l-loved you...o-once...d-did you ever...l-love me...J-John…?”

“Once,” he says softly, closing his eyes for a moment. “Not anymore. Not since Sherlock came back, I think.”

I’m silent.

What could I possibly say…?

Her face grows sadder, if that’s possible. “I...c-could never...c-compare...not t-to…him…”

“I’m not gay,” he says with a weak smile, forcing a small chuckle.

“A-and...I’m...n-not an...a-assassin…” she gasps out with a laugh, pulling harder on his coat. “I...w-would have...n-never really...k-killed you, y-you know…?”

His face is grim. “I don’t know that, Mary. Because I don’t know you at all. I- I bet...I bet your name isn’t even Mary.”

“It’s n-not,” she admits, her grip beginning to fail. “Th-that- ...wh-what I just s-said…- was a lie...I w-would have…” she coughs out, dark blood trickling from the corners of her pink lips. “I w-would h-have...I w-would...b-because I’m s-selfish…”

He nods. “I didn’t believe you, anyway.”

“I e-even...w-wanted...R-Rosamund…” Mary’s trembling hand slips from his jacket.

“Mary…”

“R-Rosamund...f-far better...th-than...Sh-Sher...Sherlock…” Her breath hitches on my name, and her face tightens with the effort. “G-goodbye...b-both of you…”

“Mary,” John breathes. “D...don’t…”

“G-go b-back to B-Baker S-Street...J-John...And Sh-Sherlock…?” She turns her head slightly to look at me. “I-I’m...s-sorry…T-take c-care...of...J...John…”

Her eyes go glassy and dull as she quietly exhales for the last time. John looks numb as uses two fingers to gently push her eyelids shut. Pressing a final kiss to her clammy forehead, he abruptly stands up and snaps his fingers. “Sherlock. Let’s go,” he says, his tone deathly quiet and clipped.

“J-John…”

“I said...let’s go. There’s nothing left for us here.”

I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. I’ve waited too long. I should have called someone. I should have called the hospital. I can almost hear John scolding me already- ‘Why do you never call the police?’

My vision goes blurry as my legs fail me. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go, but then again…this night has been full of surprises. Nothing short of dangerous encounters and yet another miraculous deus-ex-machina from John Watson.

Not dead. Not yet.

“Amb- ambulance…” I whisper hoarsely, before collapsing on the floor next to Mary’s cold, limp, unmoving body.

John rushes towards me, and I get a glimpse of her pale face as my eyes flutter shut. Her lips are slightly parted, almost upturned. She seems to be finally at rest. She doesn’t deserve it, but I don’t think I could think of a better way for her to exit this world. A brutal display of karma…

…And yet…

I feel my flat expression become a weak smile.

She looks...so peaceful...almost like she’s sleeping…

The End (?)

Act One linked below:

https://benaddicted-linfanuel.tumblr.com/post/656892650818011136/three-acts

Act Two linked below:

https://benaddicted-linfanuel.tumblr.com/post/656968775195934720/three-acts

Epilogue linked below:

https://benaddicted-linfanuel.tumblr.com/post/657054522939686912/three-acts

#bbc #sherlock holmes #john watson #sherlock #johnlock #jim moriarty #post reichenbach #mary is not good #she’s actually pretty evil #like ew #Mary sucks #lol

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lemonandhugs · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 6 of Stars Align!

Chapter 6

Sam and Caitriona walked outside of Edinburgh Airport and the freezing cold Autumn wind hit them in the face, causing them to both squint and grimace. Caitriona gasped and hugged her own body, after placing her luggage on the ground.

Sam still felt extremely embarrassed about what happened on the plane, despite Cait’s reassurances. He felt guilty, and just awkward around her, which he hated. He stood quietly next to her, with his head down, burying his mouth into his scarf, his hands shoved in his parka pockets. Cait picked up on how he was acting immediately and peered over at him. The wind blew Sam’s curly hair away from his left temple and she could see the large marble-size bump and light blue-purple bruise that had developed.

“How’s your h-head?” she asked him through a quivering jaw.

He shyly looked at her, “I’ve uh…I’ve got a bit of a headache, and it’s throbbing a bit, but I’ll be fine. I’ll take something for it when we get there…I deserve it though…what happened.”

Cait exhaled, turned towards him and held on to his forearm, “Sam…please, it’s alright. There was no harm done. It’s not like your hands landed in any awkward places, none of that. You haven’t offended me, or pissed me off, or given me a reason to not trust you. It was completely harmless. Please, don’t feel bad.”

Sam looked into her eyes then, seeing the pleading in her hypnotising blue-grey eyes, and it made his insides melt like warm butter, and his tension and embarrassment melted with it. He smiled crookedly.

“Well, alright. As you say,” Sam smiled wider at her and twisted slightly so the elbow she was holding on to gently nudged her.

The worry dissipated from Cait’s eyes, as her smile reached them, “good.”

She let go of his arm and shoved that hand into her pocket and began shivering again, as she was no longer distracted from the cold.

Sam looked at her with a knowing and concerning smile, “yeah, still as cold as I remember. I haven’t been back here for a few years.”

Cait’s teeth began to chatter and her body began to tremble as she hugged herself. She nodded, “well…I s-suppose I’m going to h-have to get used to th-this. No d-doubt I’ll be wearing a lot l-less on set in those early s-scenes of block one.”

Sam’s mouth went into a straight line and he nodded, “the things we do as actors,” he cheekily smiled at her.

Cait smiled back in between her teeth clicking together, “mhm.”

“At least you dressed warmer this time, and at least it’s not raining. It would be bad if we got our hair wet, yours more than mine. The car will be here s–, oh here it is,” Sam tilted his head upwards, gesturing towards the Audi coming towards them.

“Oh, thank g-god,” Cait murmured.

Then they noticed another Audi, exactly the same and directly behind. They both looked at each other confused.

“We must be taking separate cars?” Cait questioned.

Sam’s eyebrows furrowed.

The two drivers got out and hurried over to introduce themselves as Sam and Cait’s drivers for the duration of Season 1 filming.

“Are we travelling separately?” Sam asked his driver.

“Yes, we always have actors driven separately, in case of any accidents,” Sam’s driver stated.

“Oh, that makes sense,” Cait nodded.

“Okay, yeah I was wondering why two cars pulled up. If you’ve got this, man, I’ll help Caitriona’s driver with her luggage,” Sam asked his driver, pointing to his pile of luggage on the ground.

“Oh, S-Sam no. You don’t h-have to do that, it’s f-freezing, get in y-your car,” Cait shook her head, and attempting to stop him after he already had two pieces of her luggage slung over his shoulders, ignoring her.

Walking quickly to the boot of the car, with Cait’s driver, he put the luggage in and opened the door for her.

“In you get before you turn into an icicle,” Sam smirked at her.

Cait both pouted and smirked at him, and playfully hit him on the arm.

“See you when we get there, and thank you,” her smirk disappeared, and she gave him a small, sweet smile.

“No worries, Caitriona Balfe, see you soon,” Sam winked at her and brushed her back gently, up, and down.

He ran over to his car and quickly got in. Cait smiled to herself as a quiver ran over her spine, from his touch.

It was an hour drive to where their trailers would be located, and where the writer’s studio was, in which they would be going to their first read through, the next morning.

Twenty minutes into the drive, after small chit-chat with her driver, getting to know him, Cait was distracted by her phone going off. She picked it up from inside her handbag and saw a text from Sam on her screen. She couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face, and the excited feeling that formed in her stomach.

- Have you thawed now? :P

- Ha ha, very funny...! But yes, I’m quite toasty now, thanks for asking :D

- Good to hear. We can’t have Claire looking like those creatures in Avatar, now can we? :P

- :O but thank you for your concern, lol…I think Claire could rock blue skin!

- Mmm…you’re not wrong there. It’d make for an interesting series! Haha

- The stones did it :P

- Ah! Now THAT’S an interesting concept, Caitriona Balfe! We must tell Ron!

Caitriona giggled quietly to herself, and she and Sam joked back and forth for ten minutes more.

‘Alright, alright. Leave her alone now. Professionalism, a respectful distance…don’t get too close off-set!’ Sam thought to himself as he typed out one last text to Cait saying that he’ll see her when they arrive.

A half hour later and they had arrived. The drivers got their luggage out of the cars and lead them towards their trailer. They came to one very large trailer that had both their names on it.

‘Sharing a trailer?!’ Cait panicked, and side-eyed Sam.

Ron walked around the corner a couple of seconds after Sam and Cait had reached the trailer. He beamed when he saw them both.

“Sam! Caitriona! How are ya?! Glad you had a safe trip. The hair looks great!” Ron exclaimed, shaking their hands.

He looked at the large trailer and back at Sam and Cait.

“So, you two will be sharing a trailer. All the trailers will be shared between two cast members. Starz could only get us a limited number of trailers, but they got us the very biggest ones. They’re so large, you will have plenty of your own space,” Ron explained.

‘Breathe, Caitriona, breathe. You’re sure to be used to him in no time now! Fuck, I hope we don’t become sick of each other…’ Cait thought, biting her bottom lip.

‘So much for a respectful distance off-set…fuck…it’s okay, it will be fine. We’ll become very comfortable with each other and it will be very good for the show and our on-screen chemistry,�� Sam calmed himself, determined to think rationally.

Sam and Cait both nodded at Ron while he was speaking. Sam was wringing his hands nervously and peered over at Cait. She caught his eye and gave him a shy smile. He smiled back but noticed the worry in her eyes. She quickly looked away and Sam’s attention was caught by Ron walking up the three steps and opening the front door of the trailer.

“Come in and have a look! Really nice inside, more modern than you would think,” Ron waved them forward, ducking his head inside as he spoke.

As Sam and Cait walked slowly towards the steps, Ron quickly climbed down.

“I’ll let you two get settled. I have to run, I have a few meetings to get to, one with Diana herself. You’ll meet her on Sunday, Caitriona. And yeah, I’ll see you two Sunday for Block One Read Through. 9am. All the cast will be arriving later, so you’ll get to meet everyone. It’ll be good. Can’t wait to see the book come to life, essentially,” Ron expressed with a lopsided smile on his bearded face.

Sam and Cait both smiled at that.

“I’m excited, this is all so new to me. It’s so beautiful here,” Cait said biting her lip and smiling, taking in her surroundings.

“Yeah, it’s going to be a hell of a journey, I think we’re all going to have a great time. It’ll be great experience for you as an actress, I’m sure you’ll learn a lot,” Ron nodded.

“Oh definitely,” Cait widened her eyes and smiled cheerfully at him.

“Alright, I’m off. See you in a couple of days,” Ron said putting his thumb up, before quickly turning and walking with large strides to his car.

Sam cleared his throat awkwardly, then stretched his arm out for Cait to walk up the stairs first. Cait smiled crookedly at him, looking up at him through her lashes, and ascending the few steps. Sam followed close behind, and upon switching the light on, they were indeed both surprised at how big and modern it really was. Colours of grey and white, a good-sized bedroom area that was split into two and identical on both sides, with two queen beds and a sliding dividing wall in the middle. That was the left side of the trailer. A doorway from the bedroom led out into the dining area, with a small bathroom running off just behind, with a surprisingly large shower. To the right of the dining area was a very impressive marble-top, large kitchenette.

“Wow. I cannot believe how huge this is,” Sam raised his eyebrows and looked around and up at the ceiling.

“Yeah! It doesn’t look like it from the outside. It’s lovely though. Definitely big enough for two,” Cait said as she ran her hand along the marble bench top, her back to him.

“So, uh…I…I guess we’re…living together. How do you feel about that? Since it was kind of just sprung on us…” Sam uttered, rubbing the back of his neck and carefully peering up at her.

“Well…I think…you know, we’re going to be on set together all day anyway. Sharing a trailer will give us a chance to get to know each other on another level. Which…I think will make us more comfortable with each other on set, especially in maybe the more…intense scenes. Obviously, we’ll give each other space when we’re in here. And…there’s an understanding between us. A trust,” Cait crossed her arms over her chest and shrugged one shoulder. She gave him a nervous smile through tight lips.

“That’s true. Yeah, you’re right. I promise I won’t intrude on your space, and I’ll wash my own dishes and won’t leave my clothes lying around. Oh, and I won’t leave my towels on the floor,” Sam grinned at her, rather cheekily.

Cait giggled freely and peered down at the floor before licking the corner of her top lip and looking back up at him.

“Well, ditto,” Cait nodded.

The sun suddenly crept out from behind the gloomy, grey clouds that were threatening rain, and it shone through one of the windows, catching both their eyes.

“So…if you’re not too tired, and because it’s rather beautiful outside now and the rest of the cast don’t arrive until later, maybe now is a good time I take you up on your offer on showing me around…?” Cait asked a little nervously but couldn’t help but smirk at him.

This took Sam by surprise. He didn’t actually expect her to take him up on that offer in which he felt stupid for suggesting.

“Oh,” Sam expressed with genuine shock, his eyebrows shooting up, “okay, yeah, of course. We can walk over to a park in Craighforth, and walk along the River Forth? It’s very beautiful, it gives a great view of the mountains.”

“Yeah, that sounds lovely,” Cait nodded, turning around to grab her phone out of her handbag.

They both descended the stairs of their trailer.

“I’ve got the key,” Sam said, holding up the key before shoving it deep into the front pocket of his jeans.

Cait looked back at him and smiled, “good, I don’t think Ron would be too impressed if we lock ourselves out already.”

Sam giggled, and the two walked side-by-side, hands deep in Parka pockets, out of the trailer lot, deeper and deeper into the countryside. They spoke mostly about little details of their life that they hadn’t yet shared; filling in holes of mystery about one another. They were showing more of each other, inch by inch, in the moments they spent together. Sam told Cait about his childhood spent scampering about the countryside on his own but having a ball. He told Cait about this place, historical anecdotes he was told by his family. Cait looked up at him, listening intently, admiring how his entire face lit up when he spoke about Scotland, how happy it made him, how his teeth and bright blue eyes shone in the sunlight. How he smiled so wide, she could see the creases on the corners of his cheeks.

After an hour of walking, they came to a completely open, wooden, rail-less bridge, and a wider part of the river, running wildly beneath them. They both stepped onto it without hesitation and continued to walk and talk, not really paying attention to the water beneath, or the bridge itself.

Sam, so focused on what Cait was saying, wasn’t aware enough of his footing. Being on the left side of the bridge, his left foot suddenly slipped slightly off the edge. He gasped sharply and grunted loudly. His body instinctively leaned over to the right side to prevent him from falling over the edge. His arms flailed outwards and he bent down quickly, clutching the planks of the bridge. Before he could register what had happened, before his adrenaline had stopped surging through his veins, all he heard was a petrified, high-pitched shriek, and all he saw was Cait’s body be flung, head first over the right side of the bridge, into the gushing river; not even a splash was heard. His heart stopped, his breathing ceased, he froze. His hands started to shake; all he could hear now was a painful ringing. Half a second later, and he was on his feet, looking into the water, breathing heavily. All he could see was a gushing pool of white and black.

“CAIT?!” he screamed at the absolute top of his lungs, over and over, until his throat and lungs started to burn.

He finally heard a gasping sound, then coughing, then screaming. He found Cait, already pulled twenty metres down the river in the matter of four seconds. The river was deep and had such force that she was unable to stand. She was struggling to swim properly and keep her head above the water.

“SAM HELP ME! PLEASE HE–,” Cait shrieked, and then she was gone, swallowed by the water.

Sam turned completely white, he felt physically sick as he sprinted, with everything he had, off the bridge and down the river, coming to where he spotted Cait in the water. He ripped off his Parka, threw his phone without looking, squatted, and slid down the grass, reaching the water. He dived underneath the water and let it take him downstream to Cait. Keeping his eyes open and his arms outstretched. Five seconds had passed, and he saw a dark shadow, trying desperately to fight against the stream and swim upwards; legs and arms striking against the water, but also being dragged further, deeper, underneath. Sam kicked his legs hard, hoping to reach her sooner. When he was close enough to reach her, his body slammed against hers by the force of the water before he could grab hold of her. She jolted sharply away from him, but then reached back for him, as he reached for her. Their hands gripped together so tightly, and without letting go, Sam attempted to touch the bottom with his feet and push himself up to the surface. He coughed and inhaled sharply, grunting, kicking, and fighting against the water with one arm. He pulled Cait up towards the surface, but their hands started to slip. He took in a large breath, submerged himself back into the water, reached out and grabbed Cait by the waist, pulling her towards him with one arm, then quickly let go of her hand and grabbed her waist with that same hand. Cait kicked and clutched his shoulders tightly. He pushed off the bottom with his feet again, with all the power and energy he had, and launched them to the surface. Cait coughed violently and wheezed loudly, before water gushed from her mouth. She inhaled and coughed again. Sam held her up high above the water, his hands underneath her arms. He was unable to move sideways against the water, so in one swift movement, he angled Cait towards the grassy side of the river and threw her towards it. She landed close enough to grip the grass and mud, clawing and trying to grip with her feet to pull herself up. Sam was again submerged underwater when Cait looked behind her. Sam had decided to try and dive deep down and swim sideways, where the force wasn’t as strong. A few seconds later, his hands shot up out of the water and gripped the grass, rocks, and mud on the side of the bank, ten metres downstream from her. He coughed, breathed heavily, and grunted loudly. He was able to get a good enough grip and pulled himself up out of the water. With shaky legs, he sprinted over to the side where Cait was still trying to pull herself up. He reached down, grabbed one of her wrists, strongly pulled her up towards him, then grabbed hold of her other wrist and pulled her completely out. He pulled her to her feet so swiftly, and without thinking, he scooped her legs up with one arm, and held her torso with the other and ran towards where he left his Parka and phone. She gripped around his shoulders and neck tightly, nails digging in, not daring to let go. When he reached his Parka, he bent down and gently sat her on the grass, ripped off her own Parka and put his dry one around her, then pulled her tightly against him, rubbing her back and arms vigorously. He shook and coughed as he did so before he could say anything. His brain couldn’t reach his mouth at this point. After a minute, Cait pushed against Sam’s chest, bent over to the side, coughed, heaved and more water gushed out of her mouth. Sam firmly pounded her back, hoping he was helping to expel the fluid from her stomach. Cait, still bent over, close to the earth, gasped and breathed heavily. She continued to cough intermittently a few more times, until she could no longer feel any fluid in her belly. She harshly exhaled. Luckily, she wasn’t under very long, and was able to hold her breath and didn’t inhale any water, but some did force its way into her mouth, giving her no choice but to swallow. She knew there wasn’t any fluid in her chest or lungs, as she was able to breath easily.

Exhausted, Cait’s breathing started to finally slow. Sam rubbed her back gently, and she carefully pushed herself back up to a sitting position.

“Caitriona…” Sam began with a shaky voice, “I’m so sorry! You could’ve drowned, and I…! If anything happened to you! I…Caitriona, I’m so so sorry. Are you alright, did you hit your head? Do you think anything is broken?” Sam’s hands were shaking very visibly as he held Cait’s shoulders.

Cait was trembling all over, both from the cold water and the shock from what just happened. She had her head down and her eyes closed. Sam searched her face desperately while he waited for a response, still white as a ghost, icy water dripping from the tip of his nose.

After a few minutes, Cait took a deep breath in through her nose and breathed out through her mouth. She slowly opened her eyes but kept them facing down. Sam let go of her shoulders, and continued to wait patiently, his hands still trembling in his lap.

“I…I’m alright. It doesn’t feel like anything is broken…I know I didn’t hit my head on the way down…the water was too…deep...too strong…it…” Cait described with a shaky voice and hugged herself with her own trembling hands, trying to stop the rest of her body from shaking.

“…it was an accident Sam. It’s alright,” Cait slowly moved her head up to look at him. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, all the colour was drained from her face, and her lips were now a blue-tinted pink.

“No, it’s not alright. I’m a…fucking idiot! I wasn’t paying attention to my feet; I knew I was too close to the edge! You could’ve broken your neck because of me. And…your hair!” Sam clenched his jaw and violently rubbed his forehead with his hand, eyes shut.

“Oh! Oh…fuck,” Cait exclaimed with widened eyes and a horrified look on her face and she grabbed two fistfuls of her hair.

“Caitriona, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I don’t know how you’ll ever forgive me…I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I mean I…” Sam broke off with a huff. He shifted away from her and held his head in his hands.

“Well, Sam, I didn’t break my neck. And…you saved my life, Sam. You risked your life to save mine. You got me out of that water just as quickly as I fell in…” Cait reached a trembling hand over and touched his bicep.

“Caitriona, I’m the reason you were in that river in the first place. Of course I was going to do everything in my power to save you…I mean…of course I would do everything I could to save you even if I wasn’t the reason,” Sam turned back towards her and shyly looked down at the wet grass between his legs, his arms resting on his knees.

Cait smiled lopsidedly, “I know. Thank you, Sam, for saving my life. All I know is that I could not, for the life of me, keep myself above the water. I was…stuck. Completely stuck underneath. If it wasn’t for you…you got to me so fast, like you didn’t even hesitate to jump in,” Cait raised her eyebrows in question.

“I didn’t,” Sam shrugged, “I’m just glad you’re alright. Well, I hope you are. That’s what we’re going to find out,” Sam stated as he grabbed his phone, scrolled through his texts with Ron to find the numbers of the drivers.

He typed in the number and asked his driver to immediately come to where they are. After he hung up, he screenshotted their location on Google Maps and sent it to his driver. His driver responded within a couple of minutes.

“My driver will be here in ten minutes, then we’re going straight to the ER. You’ve swallowed a lot of water. I want you to get checked out. I want to make sure you’re alright,” he said with a determined voice, looking at her with guilt in his face and concern in his eyes.

Cait nodded, “I…I don’t know what I’m going to do about my hair…” Cait hesitated, biting her lip.

“Yeah I don’t know what I’m going to do about mine either. I’m going to call Ron right now and explain everything,” Sam put the phone to his ear again, then reached over and pulled his Parka tighter around Cait.

She gave him a shy smile as she put her arms through the sleeves.

Sam spent the next eight minutes on the phone with Ron, explaining the whole situation. Cait watched Sam’s face closely. His different expressions, his hand movements as he spoke, the way he chewed his thumb nail when he was nervous.

‘He saved me…he jumped right into that fucking death trap of a river and saved my life in the space of five minutes. What if he got stuck underneath after throwing me over to the bank…what if he broke his own neck trying to save me…the way he held me above that water…the way he was able to pull me to him against that heavy stream…he just…he amazes me…is he real?’ Cait was completely lost in her thoughts as she watched him.

Sam hanging up the phone snapped her out of it.

“Ron is really concerned about both of us, but he’s happy we’re both alive and going to the hospital. He wants to be updated with all results, and how we are tomorrow. The read-through may have to be pushed back, depending. He’s also going to call the stylist in London about our hair. He’s going to call back later about it,” Sam informed Cait, still with a look of remorse and embarrassment.

“Alright…was he pissed about our hair?” Cait asked.

“Nah, he just said ‘accidents happen’. He was more concerned with our health. I just…this is a big deal for you, Cait, and if I’ve ruined it for you, I wouldn’t ever forgive myself –,” Sam started, shaking his head.

“Sam,” Cait cut him off, “you haven’t ruined anything. It’s fine, everything will be fine.”

Sam gave her a small, lopsided smile, “I really am sorry though, for all that water you had to throw up, for any cold you get because of this, for everything. I suppose you don’t want any more Sam Heughan tours,” Sam looked down sheepishly.

Caitriona reached back over and patted his hand, then squeezed it slightly before letting go.

“I do, just, maybe no more dangerous bridges,” Cait smirked at him.

Sam laughed, “deal, I promise,” he looked at her and smiled.

Her face broke into a smile back at him, and just like that, they were stuck in a moment. No one was able to move. Not until Sam’s phone rang, and they both flinched, snapping out of it.

“Hi, Ron,” Sam answered, a little nervously.

He spent another minute on the phone, which left Cait’s thoughts to drift again. She cleared her throat and turned her head away. She smiled to herself briefly, then sucked her lips into her mouth and looked down.

‘He really is a great guy. It’s going to be a lot of fun working with him. We’re going to be great working partners and friends. That’s it though Caitriona, that’s all he is and will ever be to you. Just a co-s –,’

“Okay so with the hair appointment, the stylist has told Ron that you’ll need to get it redone, but I don’t because my perm isn’t as intense, and because of the amount of hair I have. So, your appointment in London is in a few days. It would just be a fly there, fly back kind of day,” Sam explained, breaking Cait from her self-pep-talk.

“Oh, okay. It has to be done,” Cait nodded and shrugged.

“Yeah, only if you’re well enough. Otherwise that can be pushed back as well,” Sam reassured.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Cait half-smiled, and checked her phone for the time.

“I hope so. Oh, car’s here,” Sam said as he jolted to his feet.

He put his phone in his pocket, then reached down and put his hands out to Cait. She took his hands and he gently, but strongly eased her up.

“Are you alright? How are your legs?” Sam asked, steadying her.

Cait peered up at him, “yeah, uh…a little shaky but…I’m okay,” she nodded, looking down shyly.

As the drive to the hospital wasn’t a short one, both cars and drivers arrived. The drivers quickly got out and ran over Sam and Cait. They frantically asked what happened and if they were hurt, with concern and shock.

“It’s alright, I’ll tell you on the way,” Cait said to her driver.

“Yes, me too. We need to get her into the warmth right now,” Sam said to his driver, then looked at Cait’s.

Sam walked Cait to her car and opened the door for her. He held her elbow as she weakly climbed in.

“Are you warm enough? Do you think you’ll be sick again? I can see if they have a bag somewhere,” Sam half turned to look at Cait’s driver.

“No, it’s okay, Sam. I’ll be alright. It’s really warm in here,” Cait reassured.

“Alright, keep the parka, and I’ll see you when we get there,” Sam brushed her knee slightly, before closing the door.

Sam handed Cait’s soaked parka to her driver, “would you mind just putting this on the front seat, in font of the heater, where it can dry a bit?”

“Sure, sir,” Cait’s driver nodded and took the parka.

“You can call me Sam,” he said politely.

Sam ran and jumped into his car.

Upon arrival, Sam jumped out of his car, ran over to open Cait’s door, then held out his hand for her. Cait exhaled out of her nose and smiled at him.

“Thank you, Sam, but really, I’m alright,” Cait tried reassuring again.

“I just didn’t want your legs to lose balance or anything,” Sam said, concern in his baby blues.

“Well, I appreciate it,” Cait said shyly.

“It’s the least I can do, Cait. Sorry, Caitriona!” Sam quickly tried to patch his slip-up.

‘Oh, fuck!’ Sam tensed.

Sam and Cait checked in and walked towards the waiting room.

Cait smiled widely, “you DID call out ‘Cait’ when I fell in! I heard you, even under the water, but thought I was going crazy.”

“Sorry, I…it was just quicker to say in the moment, I panicked,” Sam confessed, embarrassed.

“And now?” Cait asked teasingly, smirking at him.

“Now…well that was an accident,” Sam bit his lip and smiled nervously.

Cait giggled, “you can call me ‘Cait’. I like it. Believe it or not, I’m not often called that. My family doesn’t believe in shortening names, I guess. And it’s only a few of my friends who call me ‘Cait’, and you’re my friend,” Cait gently nudged his shoulder with hers, smiling a little too flirtatiously.

‘Thank Christ for that,’ Sam thought, feeling instantly relieved.

Sam laughed, then sighed, “well, I’m glad we’re still friends, even though I barged you into a dangerous, dirty river,” he gently nudged her back.

“Caitriona Balfe?” a nurse suddenly came out.

“I’ll meet you here when we’re done, okay? Good luck…Cait,” Sam gave her a shy smile.

Cait returned the smile, “you too, see you after.”

Cait was checked over with a routine blood test, an X-ray, and an ultrasound of her stomach to see if there was any damage from the river water and how much she swallowed. They wanted to test for any lurking contaminants in her stomach, and intestines, that could potentially travel to her bladder and urinary tract. They also checked for any fluid on her lungs.

Sam needed less invasive checks but was also examined for any contaminants in his body, from the river.

They both received their results within the hour.

Sam was already in the waiting room, scrolling on his phone, trying to distract himself from worrying about Cait.

‘Please let her be alright, please let her be alright, please let her be alright!’ He begged, with every heavy thump of his heart.

Just then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the deep green of his parka that Cait was still snuggled into. She smiled crookedly at him and sat next him.

“Hey! Did everything go alright?” Sam quickly asked.

“Just a few tests, I’ll get the results soon,” Cait expressed.

“Me too. How are you feeling?” he asked, turning more towards her.

“A bit better, now. Not so shaky, and I’ve warmed up. I think it was just shock, more than anything,” Cait shrugged, “and, how are you?”

“Och, fine,” Sam nodded.

“Hopefully. You were in that water too,” Cait raised her eyebrows, concern spreading across her face.

“I didn’t swallow any though. I’m sure I’m all good, but we’ll find out soon enough. I…I hope you’re okay…Cait,” Sam said sheepishly, still feeling a little nervous about calling her that.

Cait gave him a look that said, ‘it’ll be okay’.

“Sam Heughan and Caitriona Balfe?” a doctor came out and said.

Sam and Cait stood up and followed him into his room.

The doctor information Cait that they couldn’t find any contaminants in her system, luckily, she vomited all of them out. They were both right as rain. The only recommendation the doctor gave Cait was to take a good probiotic for a week, and to have steaming hot shower, get a lot of bed rest with a lot of layers and a hot water bottle over the next 24 hours, to avoid getting a chill and then the flu.

Sam let out a sigh of such relief, knowing she was okay and that he hadn’t ruined anything for her.

‘I hope she doesn’t get sick…I’ll do everything I can to make sure she doesn’t! what if she does…what then? It would be inappropriate to kind of…take care of her…but…we share a trailer…we live together…fuck. Please don’t get sick…Cait,’ Sam struggled, then smiled, knowing he had full permission to call her by a nickname.

“That’s good news,” Sam said grinning at Cait, as they walked back towards their cars.

“Yes, see? Everything is fine. I just need to get out of these wet clothes…” Cait started, and immediately caught herself. It was too late.

‘What? What the fuck did you just say? Oh my god,’ Cait cursed herself internally.

Sam widened his eyes, then giggled quietly when he caught Cait’s face over what she just said.

“Uh…I mean…I need to put on something dry and curl up in bed…do you think there’s a hot water bottle in the trailer?” Cait asked, deliberately changing the subject.

“I’ll have a look for one while you’re in the shower. Are you hungry?” Sam asked.

“A little. Soup or broth is probably what I need the most right now,” Cait replied.

“Yeah, I saw heaps of cans of soup in the little pantry,” Sam nodded, opening the car door for Cait.

Cait smiled at him, “thank you. Alright, well, I’ll see you in a little bit,” Cait gently touched his forearm and climbed in.

Sam closed the car door and when she made eye contact with him out the window, he winked and waved, before running to his car.

Sam rang Ron and filled him in on the details.

“Alright, good news! I’m glad you’re both okay. We’ll have the read-through the day after tomorrow, if Cait is up to it, and then she’ll go to London two days following that. I’ll flick her a text now, and I’ll check in tomorrow evening. Goodnight, Sam,” Ron replied on the other end of the phone.

Caitriona wasted no time in gathering her warmest pjs and toiletries and hopping straight into the shower. The hot water took a while to heat up, and Caitriona stood just outside the shower, covered in goosebumps, arms wrapped around herself, bouncing up and down and shivering. When it was finally hot, Cait pounced underneath and lavished the steaming hot liquid covering her body. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath in, inhaling the steam. Her fair skin was quickly becoming red, but it was a very welcomed contrast from turning blue from the icy water today. She relayed the experiences in her head, as she stood under the hot stream, concentrating on her breathing. Today was certainly a terrifying experience, being trapped underwater. However, she felt no trauma over it. All she could think about was how quickly those strong arms grabbed her before there was enough time to actually start to really panic. How quickly he got to her, pulled her from the jaws that wanted to swallow her whole. How he swept her up like she was weightless, held her close.

‘Yes, he’s very thoughtful and caring. I’ll forever be grateful for him. I’m lucky to have someone to work with who will have my back,’ Cait thought, as she lathered soap on her body, determined to not let her thoughts drift.

Cait put on her fresh, warm pjs and wrapped her washed hair in a towel and walked out of the bathroom. The clouds of steam broke out behind her. Her cheeks were rosy red from the heat. Then she saw Sam. He had changed his clothes and was now wearing tracksuit pants and a loose, long sleeved shirt. He was standing in the kitchenette sipping coffee. He turned around once he heard her. He couldn’t help but look at her from head to toe and then back up again. Cait was wearing black cuffed sleep pants, thick purple bed socks, and an oversized fleece top.

‘Adorable creature! Look at her looking so snug…no, stop looking!’ Sam caught himself and he cleared his throat and briefly looked away.

Sam stuttered and struggled to get his words out at first, “Uh…I…uh,” Sam pointed to the little dining table.

Caitriona looked over and there was a steaming bowl of soup, a mug of black coffee and some chicken bone broth, waiting for her. Cait’s eyes lit up. Then she looked back at Sam and smiled. Sam shyly looked down and smiled, taking another sip of his coffee.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28043499/chapters/76290278

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fvrxdrm · 4 years ago

Text

City of the Living Dead

Chapter 3

The cold air that enveloped you continued to send a shiver down your spine along with the pouring rain that came down from the dark heavens. Little droplets that had hit your skin trickled down further onto your body until they hit certain spots that would soak and melt them right away.

There was no doubt that the clinging of your soaking wet clothes onto your form had irritated you, causing you to tug on them on some occasion, only for them to return to their previous spots.

The atmosphere was quiet, but not the peaceful kind of quiet, it was eerie and and petrifying and that alone made your fear of being solo heighten up even more than how it originally was.

Despite the silence that surrounded the area though, the sounds of your boots stepping on various puddles of muddy water as you continued to stroll through the narrow streets and your slightly heavy breathing could still be heard, lightly comforting you and reminding you of your sanity.

You knew silence was never a good sign. From all the horror flicks that you’ve watched from your earlier years, you had learned that silence was a sign of danger. So with your gun tight in your grasp and your free hand clenching and relaxing to keep you from going insane, you attentively observed your surroundings for any indication that something would sneak up from behind you and attack you. Your ears were perked up to listen for any growls or screams and your eyes consistently switched from places to places to make sure nothing would take advantage of your vulnerability and pounce at you and kill you. So far, so good.

That was until you heard a high-pitched scream that sounded like it came from a little girl.

Your head snapped towards the direction of the sound and saw a group of zombies limping towards a frightened little girl that was curled up in a corner, shaking as she helplessly stared at the mindless monsters that were looking back at her with hungry pale eyes.

With adrenaline pumping through your veins, you dashed towards the horde of zombies and abruptly gunned each of them down with the bullets you had left before picking the girl up and running towards the direction of the police station without looking back, knowing that those who were not killed were hot on your heels, desperate to place their hands on you both and devour you until the remnants of your blood and guts were the only parts of you left.

Your breathing was becoming heavy and your body was growing tired the farther you ran away from the spot you found the girl at but you didn’t mind that. You had your priority straight and your priority was to reach the police station where you and the girl were safe.

Once you’ve reached the huge metal gates of the RPD, you quickly scrambled inside before slamming them right in their faces, not forgetting to pull the lock to keep them from entering your safe place.

“Are you okay?” You asked the girl that was still trembling in fear of the undead that had their hands reaching out to you in hopes of getting you and eating you alive after placing her on the ground.

“Y-yes”, she stuttered out, her eyes still focused on the zombies that were growling out loud and slamming on the gates.

“Hey, look at me”, you softly whispered before gently grabbing the chin of the girl with your forefinger and your thumb and turning her head towards you so her attention wasn’t directed towards the monsters that would surely traumatized her for the rest of her life. “Don’t mind them, okay? You’re safe here with me and I’m not going to let any of them get you.”

“Okay”, the little girl whispered back before wrapping her tiny arms around your form, grateful to have you save her from her supposed fate.

“What’s your name?” You asked after you’ve finally pulled away from her embrace.

“Sherry”

“Well, Sherry, I’m Y/N. We’re going to enter the police station, okay? We’re going to find some help”, you pointed towards the double doors that were situated below the RPD sign.

The little girl nodded her head as a small smile began to tug on her lips, a more determined look also beginning to overpower the frightened look she previously had.

*****

“I forgot to ask you this before but where are your parents?”

After the two of you had entered the station, you immediately looked around the rather enormous hall in hopes of finding any help but to your surprise, the area was empty, leaving you to believe that the people that were once hiding themselves from the world outside had gotten out to escape or worse, turned and got killed.

You noticed that the girl had a few scratches adorning a few areas on her skin which you suspected was a result of getting away from being eaten by the zombies that were lurking in the dark outside so grabbed the first aid kid that was just sitting on top of the receptionist’s desk and cleaned the cuts that had blood seeping through them.

“I don’t really know but I think they’re in that lab they’re working at again. I think I overheard it was Umbrella or something. They’re scientists”, Sherry replied.

You stopped dead in your tracks and stared at the girl with wide eyes.

This girl was the daughter of two Umbrella scientists? You weren’t suspecting the girl or anything. You were just shock at how those monsters could even think of having children. For all you knew most of the employees, specifically researchers, of Umbrella could use their progenies as test subjects.

“Y/N?” Sherry’s small and soft voice made you snap out of your thoughts, now noticing the way you looked at the girl. “You okay?”

“Um, yeah. Just... I was just thinking about something”, you proceeded to dab the small cotton pad on the bleeding cut just above her elbow, random thoughts still scrambling around inside your head.

“Oh, survivors! It’s good to see more humans”, a deep voice rang from behind you. You turned your head around and saw a man in his 40s, maybe, approaching the two of you with his hand clutching his abdomen that looked bloodied. He was also wearing a uniform so you assumed he was an officer of the RPD.

“Sir, what happened? Are you bitten?” You immediately asked after throwing the cotton pad you used to clean Sherry up before reaching out to help the man sit on the couch just a few feet away from the cot Sherry was sitting on top of.

“Yeah but I’ll manage”, he grunted as he struggled to sit down.

“Hold on, I’ll ju-”, you were about to grab the first aid kit that was still on top of the desk you previously found it at when the sound of two people cursing out loud, one female and one male, was heard together with a loud banging of metal.

You ran towards the metal shutter that was situated near the entrance, briefly abandoning the man you were supposed to help, and saw two people trying to get away from two zombies that were holding on to their ankles, desperate to take a bite out of them.

You abruptly grabbed both of their wrists, pulling them away from the undead that had their mouths wide open, ready to feast on them, before slamming the shutter right onto their heads, their brains and blood covering the once pristine floor.

“Thanks--Y/N?” You turned your towards the man that was sitting on the floor and sure enough, you saw two of your friends from Illinois, Leon and Claire, their eyes wide as they landed on your form that was towering over them.

“Leon? Claire?” You began. Your eyelids stretched out as humanly possible after seeing and recognizing them. “What are you doing here?”

#leonkennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagines #leon s kennedy x reader #leonxreader #leon kennedy x you #leon+kennedy+fanfic #leon+kennedy+imagine #leon+s+kennedy+x+reader #resident evil x reader #residentevil2 #resident evil #resident evil fanfic #resident evil 3

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heliopauseentertainments · 4 years ago

Note

See now you must answer the dangerous question in return. Favorite robot?

—Tarkles

That is a very dangerous ask. Generally, I have a pretty straightforward answer because normally it’s Megan, much to my spouse’s initial faux horror. But you did me the solid of a media breakdown, so I’ll do the same.

G1: No contest. Dumb old man. He's so oblivious despite textually being smart and is clearly on a lot of drugs. Look at this stupid af flying pistol. High INT, low WIS. The show makes no sense whatsoever. What is the goal. Is there a goal?

Though a really close second is Hot Rod/Rodimus because, my g-d, he's a disaster. One of the first things he does is fall down a hill. Absolute disaster.

TFP: Megan again (he's just so stupid and his plans suck and he's even textually this time on so many drugs), but I'm also super fond of Starscream, Knock Out, and Wheeljack in this one. Oh, and Miko.

This was one of my fave depictions of Wheeljack and how I was introduced to his general love of explosions.

This is actually the first Transformers media I ever saw so I was also really confused the first time through.

Robots In Disguise (Aligned Contiuity): Grimlock and Sideswipe. Just these dipshits running around being dipshits. I need more of that. I've only been able to see the first season of this though.

Beast Wars: It's actually not Megatron. I actually intensely dislike this one (though I really enjoy David Kaye's Tim Curry impression) and get much glee out of mocking him for incompetency and his stupid go-go boots. My favorite robots in this one are Waspinator, Inferno, and Rhinox. And Cheetor to an extent. My actual favorite thing from this series is the Voyager disc because I am a mild space nerd and recognized it immediately.

Beast Machines: I didn't really care for this show, but if I have to pick, I'm going with Cheetor. He really develops as a person, gaining confidence and standing up for himself, over the course of the series.

TFA: Look. Look. You know who I'm going to say. It's one of the few times he actually gets to be smart because he's gotten old enough to get the WIS stat a bit higher. Age and treachery and all that.

This is also one of the few continuities where I actually, genuinely, like Optimus. He's a new dad and has no idea what he's doing and hasn't yet internalized a lot of societal biases in the way most iterations of him have.

Starscream in this one is also A+ and this continuity also contains my favorite Swindle.

IDW Gen 1: We don't need to have the Megan conversation. He's a self-aggrandizing nerd who hangs out with a bunch of other nerds and I enjoy that. I also really like Rodimus, Ultra Magnus, Cyclonus, and Prowl, among other people.

IDW Gen 2: Same as above actually, but I'm still waiting for my copy of Vol 3 to ship. Also whatever Flamewar is doing, I want to know wtf she is up to.

Armada: Generally Megan because w/o Soundwave around he fulfills the role of broody mom and at least he's straight up about what they're using the minicons for. Also Tidalwave is here. I do like Tidalwave for reasons I don't understand. And Demolisher and Hot Shot. I spend a lot of time going 'poor Demolisher.'

Energon: Basically the same as above, especially for Demolisher, except look, Megan tried to die in the events of Armada and now they woke him up against his will. I'd be p pissed off too. The show made no sense and the pacing was g-d awful, but that's really my only opinion about it.

Cybertron: Actually, Scourge. This big bad doofus is shamed and bullied by this human girl who adopts him and I love it. Scourge is dope and really a great reason to watch this one.

Also I complain about the nature of black holes in this one and the fact that Megan doesn't serve a point. In Armada and Energon (the series related to this one), he serves as being necessary for some outcome (usually by dying in some self-sacrificing way). In this one, not really. The antagonist is the black hole and he's just fucking around because he can, I guess. And then dies randomly.

Headmasters: Look, this one was hard to focus through. I think my faves were Rodimus and Ultra Magnus, but they both kinda fuck off early. After that I'm just kinda... left going 'what's happening?' I guess, Chromedome?? He seems to know what's happening???

Super God Masterforce: Browning. This show was hell to sit through and made zero sense, like even less sense than G1 somehow, but I would do it for Browning. I was mostly uncomfortable because I kept getting lots of Gundam vibes.

Cyberverse: Actually, it's Hot Rod. Still really fond of Megan, but Hot Rod getting up to stupid shit is a great joy.

Prime Wars (I think that's what this one is called, either that or Combiner Wars): Look, this follows my general order of characters I like: Megan, Hot Rod (in all his three versions), and generally someone else. In this one, I really liked Grimlock.

...

I think that's all of the things I've seen. This is just kinda an overview.

#admin post #Anonymous #ask #I feel like I should also note my spouse is a Starscream stan so robot conversations at home are interesting #you should ask me about the cat gate #no really it relates to robots

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honeys-fiction · 5 years ago

Text

Yandere Dabi, Endeavor, Hawks and Shigaraki using a Utility gag on their darling

Dabi: Ashtray

-Aight, I think it’s a given that this guy smokes.

-He’s inhaling a ton of smoke because of his quirk anyway. What’s a lil’ more?

-He likes to sit back and relax, smoking as he either watches tv or mulls over anything and everything.

-He also likes for his darling to be there beside him. In his lap, under his arm, kneeling beside the chair…

-That gets him thinking- Why not both?

-He loves having his darling on their knees next to him, hands bound and gagged. The ashtray attached to it wouldn’t be too heavy, but it wouldn’t be very comfortable either.

-Sometimes he might give your head a few pats while he takes a drag. A lot of the time he’ll blow smoke in your face, delighting at the muffled coughs you make.

-He thinks it’s cute when you cough the first few times he snuffs out cigarette, your intolerance to inhaling smoke is adorable.

-Anything that makes his darling submissive is a plus to him.

Endeavor: Boot Brush

-This dude, this dude right here.

-B I G D O M K I N K

-He likes to insinuate that his darling is no more than a tool to him.

-He’s the type that takes the homemaker wife to a WHOLE new level.

-If he had his way he’d have you below his foot at all points during the day. (Just don’t remind him that he can have his way)

-So his ideal morning/evening would be relaxing in his favorite armchair, reading the paper while his darling is forced to shine his shoes.

-And then he saw utility gags.

-And realized he could have you do it with your m o u t h.

-You bet your ass he ordered that as soon as he saw it.

-He will check your work after your finished. If he doesn’t like it, you either have to do it again or be taken over his knee. Depends on how bad he thinks it is.

-Honestly, you could shine those things like a mirror and he’d still find a way to degrade you.

-As if having to shine his shoes with a gag isn’t degrading enough.

Hawks: Feather Brush

-This got me thinkin’.

-If there's boot brushes, wouldn’t there be feather brushes?

-So, Hawks would much rather spend time with his darling rather than spend time cleaning his feathers.

-Trust me, that stuff takes a g e s.

-Then he sees this. A gag that has a feather brush attachment!

-He can preen and spend time with his darling!

-it's still takes a long time. But it’s more bearable now!

-He’d be brushing with you, talking about his day, praising you for working so hard even with your hands bound!

-He’ll make sure to give your neck a nice massage after words. He doesn’t want you to have any kinks in your neck.

-He’ll make sure the gag is as comfortable as possible, no bruises allowed on his darling’s beautiful skin! unless its from his hands/mouth

-Probably the best yandere to use a utility gag tbh, he’s the one who’d take care of you after at least.

-I feel like he’d also want to try a dildo attachment, but would be too shy to try.

-Just pray he never finds that courage.

Shigaraki: Cup Holder

-Alright, so gamer boy.

-He loves playing video games, he loves degrading his darling, put the two together and boom! Utility gag!

-So for his darling a cup holder would be best. He can have you sitting straight on the floor beside him while he crushes all the levels in his games.

-Since you’ll most likely be forced to hold an open can or cup (you know he’d switch from plastic bottles just for this), you’d have to take great care to make sure nothing spills.

-Doing that for however many hours he decides to keep at it will be agonizing, trust me.

-Does he care? Nope. He loves seeing you in pain.

-And since it’s also a gag, you can’t complain. He sees that as a win win in his book.

-He might even nudge your head on purpose to make you flustered. He loves watching you try to prevent the contents from splashing out.

-And he loves punishments, so don’t think you can keep the floor dry. Not unless he’s feeling merciful, which isn’t often.

-You can expect more than just your back to be sore after, he doesn’t pull any punches.

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rhotanored · 4 years ago

Text

FFXIV WRITE #10 - a v a i l

prompt#10 - A V A I L character(s) - Crific Storm, Ashk Nha (NPC) masterlist - [x] warnings - violence, gore

An unintelligible scream of denial tore from Crific’s throat, cut short as a gauntleted fist cracked against his jaw; his head snapped to the side, leaving him dazed. His form went limp, held up only by the unyielding wooden shaft of the polearm braced across his chest, pinning him between it and the knight at his back. When he seemed about to begin his struggle anew, another fist crashed across his cheek, and he felt his skin split, rent between unforgiving steel and the bone beneath. His vision went dark, and when they let him drop to the hard-packed earth, barely dusted with the first kiss of winter’s frost, it was all he could do to wheeze out a groan as a boot fell on his spine, heel grinding down sharply to keep him in place.

As his consciousness slowly returned, he immediately wished it hadn’t--and still, he couldn’t bring himself to tear his gaze away. His own laboured breathing rose and fell in sync with the rumbling wheeze of the massive dragon several yalms ahead, the snow rapidly turning crimson all around him. A myriad spears had torn asunder a wide swath of the glittering, blue-green scales across his flank, leaving behind a great gaping wound that even Crific could recognize as mortal--but the dragon’s indignity didn’t end there.

They’d severed one wing and pinned the other to the dirt, and as though nearly gutting him hadn’t been enough to guarantee his immobility, he’d been wreathed in heavy, spiked black chains. The dragon lifted his head just enough to look at Crific for a moment, his golden gaze still sharp with clarity despite all that had been done to him.

Though Crific’s left eye had by now swollen shut from the trauma, he could feel them both stinging with tears he struggled not to shed; he wouldn’t give the knights nearby the satisfaction--and yet he could nearly feel all the words Ashk Nha would say to him through his gaze alone, and they weighed almost too heavy for Crific to bear.

“Get him up,” the toe of a boot wedged itself beneath Crific’s chin, forcing him to crane his head upwards--but his good eye remained on the dragon. The pressure on his spine eased, and as soon as it did, Crific was up and running, adrenaline surging through every muscle. He shouldered past the knight commander with enough force to send the man staggering to the ground, shock hastily twisting into outrage as he scrambled back to his feet.

“SEIZE HIM!” He bellowed, but Crific had reached one of the discarded halberds scattered around Ashk Nha before any could stop him, and he began to fight as a man possessed, howling the ragged madness of his fury as they charged towards him.

All of his movements were jagged, sharp and heavy; there was no finesse, here, only rage. Three of the knights fell before any could register what had happened, and there was no hesitation in him as he turned on the rest. Crific swatted aside an wavering sword strike, sliding his grip up the haft of the halberd to make a short thrust that bit through armour and slipped between the knight’s ribs. Yanking his weapon free, he barely felt the bite of a short stab that skittered across his hip; he whirled back and brought the blade of his halberd down on the knight’s yet-extended arm, severing it at the elbow. The man’s screams gave the remaining knights pause, and Crific pressed his advantage--oblivious to the seething aether that had bled out from his very shadow. It still echoed his every movement, and yet seemed to pulse and flicker with a life of its own, guiding his hand as much as it followed in its wake.

Nine had become five (from the twelve that attacked, four had fallen first to Ashk Nha’s claws before the pair were overwhelmed), and no longer were they a confident, cohesive unit. Crific could see the whites of their eyes in the shadows of their helms, and his onslaught was relentless. One savage blow cleaved a man from his collarbone nearly to his sternum, and Crific placed a boot on his chest to dislodge his blade, stuck fast in the man’s bone. As he turned wildly to face whoever was left, he saw none left standing; the rest were yalms too far for him to reach, now, but he took a step in that direction regardless. He couldn’t let them go.

...His legs, however, betrayed him, knees buckling suddenly beneath a wave of dizziness and exhaustion. The searing fury that had surged through him only moments before now left him feeling hollow, bereft, and weak. He let the haft of the halberd go and caught himself on trembling arms, staring at the crimson-spattered earth while shadows danced in what little of his vision remained.

He drew a shuddering breath, mustered his strength, and made to stand--to no avail. It seemed his body had nothing left to give.

Thou hast done enough.

A familiar voice, though heard not by his ears, but something more, reached Crific and gave him pause. Slowly, he lifted his head to find Ashk Nha watching him. The dragon’s breath was heavy and laboured, but his golden gaze remained piercing, and Crific felt pinned to where he knelt as surely as the dragon’s wing was pierced by Ishgardian blades.

Hie thee from this place. My brethren wilt come, and in their grief mark no difference between children of men.

Crific hung his head, fingers numb from the cold still digging into the frosted ground beneath them.

“No.” He answered with barely a whisper, but he knew the dragon could hear him. A guttural rumble was his only response in what was otherwise a silence that seemed to stretch between the pair for an eternity. In that time, Crific summoned a reserve of strength he didn’t know he had, rising unsteadily to his feet. He wrenched at the buckles of his breastplate, letting fall one piece of his armour at a time as straps and ties eventually yielded to his fumbling fingers.

He tore gauntlets from his arms and shucked the padded undercoat, leaving him in a threadbare tunic ill-suited for the weather. Unarmed and unarmoured, Crific made his unsteady way to where the dragon lay, tearing up every stake that secured the chains keeping him in bondage.

Ashk Nha kept his own counsel on Crific’s efforts, offering him nothing more than his slow and ragged breathing even when removal of the chains meant sliding the thick spikes from his hide. Careful as the half-Elezen might try to be, it was inevitable that he left more oozing wounds in his wake even as he discarded the last of the massive chains aside. He offered no apology, nor any explanation for his actions, and the dragon did not ask.

Crific made his way around to the dragon’s far side, wrenching the weapons that had skewered his wing to the ground, and was met with what sounded to his ears like a long sigh of relief as the final blade was plucked up from the earth and flung as far away as Crific could get it. His breath was coming dry and ragged in his own chest, now, lungs burning with the effort. Blood oozed from his own wounds and sweat between his skirmish earlier and the exertion now had slicked his orange hair to his brow and dampened his tunic.

Shuddering, Crific finally collapsed to the frozen earth, rolling onto his back to stare at the grey skies above. He was past the point of caring whether he’d die exposed to the elements, or at the mercy of dragonflame--but should Ashk Nha succumb to his wounds before his kin arrived, let it be said at least that he did not die in bondage.

Thy deeds wilt go not unanswered.

Crific opened his mouth to mutter that he didn’t expect any thanks, but darkness had taken hold of him, dragging him down deep into slumber before even he could respond. When later he woke, it was to his great confusion he found himself swaddled in a bedroll and warmed by a fire, surrounded by the din of quiet conversation and the scent of slow-roasting meat.

Movement nearby made him scramble into an upright position, which was a mistake, from the way every muscle in his body immediately protested.

“Oho, he’s awake!” A woman, clothed in warm furs chuckled from her makeshift seat on a stump nearby chuckled. He recognized the style; hunters who frequented the chocobo forest, and entertained an extremely uneasy truce with every faction that deigned to travel through it--Dravanian, dragon, and Ishgardian alike.

“...How?” He croaked, only to find a canteen being waved in front of him. He took it with a grateful, albeit still wary nod of thanks, tipping the contents back until the container was empty and he was left gasping for breath--but at least his thirst was sated.

“I’d like to ask you the same question, friend. Found you conveniently collapsed straight in the path of one of our hunting trails, which don’t get used real often. Makes our finding you quite the happy coincidence, if you catch my meaning.” Her brows rose.

“...You’ve my thanks,” he mutters. He was malms and malms north of where he and Ashk Nha had been caught in the Highlands. Malms from where he and his people had been sheltering. ...And malms still to go from where the dragons would have taken Ashk Nha, to their fabled Anyx Trine, where Crific had only just heard tales of. If they’d been able to make it. He’d need supplies, and at least a week to backtrack. From the exhaustion that weighed on his limbs, however, and the wounds he could feel had been tended, he’d need longer than that to recover before attempting the trip. He needed to get back, inform everyone what had happened--tell them the area was no longer safe. His jaw tightened as his thoughts turned briefly to Kestrel.

“I’ll not impose longer than I must.”

“Pull your weight around the camp, and you can impose as long as you like. In your state, I doubt we’ll expect too much out of you for a few suns, anyroad.”

Crific bowed his head, and thought about asking after food--but weariness was creeping back into his bones, dragging down the lid of his uninjured eye. He mumbled something, and the woman only smiled in response; he was asleep again before his head connected to the extra blanket rolled up beneath it. His sleep was blissfully dreamless, for the most part--though he could never quite shake the glint of golden eyes hovering on the edge of his awareness.

#FFxivWrite #FFxivWrite2020 #;ffxiv writing (mine)#crific storm #crific insp #uh wow yeah this one got away from me #late again but idc #the timing is just really bad with my schedule and sleep habits and patch stuff #but at least im still gettin em done!!#gonna try to crank out the next prompt before i do anything else here #also idk what the fuck dragon names are so WINGS IT #timeline: somewhere before the Calamity

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 5 years ago

Note

You mentioned before that Jason is Selina’s favorite bat child. Why is that and where do the others fall on the spectrum of being likable to Selina?

g o d thank you for this opportunity to revisit something that I didn’t get to do before my old blog got deleted.

(this is... not going to answer the second question, fyi. it might not even strictly answer the first one. but.)

the new Robin likes her.

the new Robin, who looks so much like the old one that it nearly gave Selina a heart attack the first time she saw him. same mop of black hair, same scrap of a mask, same green pixie boots and bare legs that the night air had bedecked with goose bumps. little Dickie hasn’t looked like that in years, of course; she’s watched him grow up, practically a man now, in his own mind at least. she’s heard he’s in a new city, using a new name, leaving all this Robin stuff behind.

so who is this?

a new ward, the Bat says, and that’s all she’s going to get by way of explanation. it’s all she needs. the man wears hope poorly, like it doesn’t fit right and he’s ashamed of owning it in the first place, but she always notices when he does. he’s excited about this, wants so badly for it to work. he’s lonely; this isn’t news.

the new kid, whoever he is, he’s already taken a shine to her. whenever she bumps into the Dynamic Duo he seems genuinely happy to see her, calls her “ma’am” and “miss” and even “Miss Catwoman.” unfailingly polite, no matter the circumstances - “evening, ma’am” as he crashes through a skylight hot on her trail, “it’s cold tonight, isn’t it, miss?” as they huddle under the same gargoyle to keep out of the rain, “heya, Miss Catwoman” when she finds herself handcuffed in the Batmobile in the least fun way.

she pokes around, biding her time, grabbing snippets of information where she can. Jason Todd, straight out of Crime Alley, acting like he was raised right when he most certainly wasn’t. it makes sense, doesn’t it? she knows kids like him, grew up around kids like him, was a kid like him growing up in Alleytown. scrappy, struggling, smart in a way that only leads to trouble.

she can see it, even from a distance, the conflict brewing across the months and years. no matter how happy he is to play the part and wear the mask, Jason is different than Dick and Bruce. no rich parents or cheerful circus folks to shelter this one; he has his own ideas about how the world is and what will work. he won’t be content to chase down the superstitious, cowardly lot, not forever. he wants change, something more permanent than sending people off to prisons that never seem to hold for more than a few months.

it’s not his fault, but the boy has disaster looming over him. Selina’s not sure Bruce can see it, is even less sure he’d understand it. there are nights she checks in on her girls, the women working the dark street corners, and finds Jason is already there, swapping stories with the teenage prostitutes. he doesn’t look so much like Dick anymore; puberty has hit him hard and made him taller, wider, a brick shithouse of a boy compared to his acrobatic big brother. he still greets her with a cheery hey, Miss Kyle. just keeping an eye on things.

Bruce let him in on that little secret, and he’s been insufferable about it ever since. she isn’t mad, can’t be mad, when she knows he’s made a habit of this. keeping an eye on things means keeping an eye on men, making sure the girls are safe and getting paid fairly, distracting any of Gotham’s finest if they come knocking. she wonders if the Bat knows he’s here, how much Jason tells him, how accountable they are to each other. she knows so little about their interior lives, exactly enough to be worried.

and wouldn’t you know it - now he’s dead.

he’s dead, and Bruce is a mess, and Selina can’t figure out what happened, he was just alive, didn’t she just see him, he didn’t deserve this, just a boy, a good kid, a good kid no matter what anyone says. wasn’t he just telling her about his essay for his English class, about the symbolism of seasons in A Separate Peace? he was so excited about that paper; did he ever get to hand it in? before he died, before the Joker killed him, the Joker who’s been in and out of Arkham more times than anyone can count, the Joker who shot Batgirl earlier that very year, the Joker who sort of proves the point, doesn’t he? maybe Jason was right, maybe the Bat’s not doing enough.

but he keeps going like he always does; within a year there’s yet another Robin, and then another Batgirl, and a Spoiler too. must be crowded in the Batcave.

all of Gotham’s getting smaller, it seems. there’s a new name, a new mask, a Red Hood. she hears snippets and whispers about him, something something, duffel bag full of heads, etc. the Bat’s already hunting him down, but Selina’s got her own sources, her own back alleys of information. he’s rough, this Red Hood, but she’s heard his ideas somewhere before. he’s not trying to topple Gotham’s drug trade, only control, keep it away from kids and schools. and the working girls say he’s never anything but courteous when they cross his path.

Selina finds him in exactly the kind of safe house Bruce would have taught him to set up, with the exception of the wall full of guns. mask discarded, face beaten bloody. whoever he was fighting tonight, they won. she doesn’t ask if it was the Bat or Nightwing or one of the new sidekicks; she doesn’t say anything at all until he does.

hey, Selina, he says, like he’s been expecting her all this time, and she wonders if she should have tried to track him down sooner.

what happened to Miss Kyle? she asks, and he grins (split lip and a missing tooth; if Bruce did this she’s going to skin him).

sorry, my bad. heya, Miss Kyle. he moves an inch, clutches at his ribs, hisses through the pain. how’ve you been?

they’re not allies, exactly. she’s not aiding and abetting anything; she’s not taking sides but when the chips are down she is, nominally, on Bruce’s. but she checks in on him sometimes, and never flinches when she comes home and finds him groaning on her couch.

sorry, Selina, this was closer-

I understand, Jason. don’t touch any of my leftovers in the fridge, but the pantry is up for grabs. don’t get blood on my linens. try to be gone by morning.

I was never here.

and then somehow, impossible, he’s on speaking terms with the family again. more or less. usually. except when he does something, or Bruce does something, or they both do, and they’re too stubborn to do anything about it but start a fight and do some things they’ll both regret. she’s in too deep at this point to pretend that she’s not invested - ten years? eighty? hard to say, the way they blur, she sometimes wonders how accurately she’s remembering her own implausible life, but she’s certain that she loves Bruce. loves him but doesn’t have to like every part of him, lets him know exactly what she thinks about him feuding with his own children.

Jason still shows up on her couch sometimes. and she still hears about him from time to time, from a new wave of girls. Holly couldn’t stop talking about him the other day, said he helped her out when a prospective client turned mean and then walked her home, even split some Chinese takeout. Selina tries to thank him for it later and he shrugs it off, says he’s always happy to do Batman’s job for him.

Selina doesn’t play favorites. she tries to keep to the edges of the latest Bat-nonsense, has enough of her own problems to be dealing with. but the old Robin likes her, and she likes him back. he needs a little more than all the others.

#selina kyle #jason todd #enbyfish

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365daysofsasuhina · 5 years ago

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[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Three Hundred Twenty-Seven: Clouds ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Like Magic ] [ AO3 Link ]

It’s a picture perfect Autumn day. Just a hint of a cool breeze, fluffy clouds of white peppering a cyan blue sky...and no classes, given that it’s a Saturday.

Now...that’s not to say that they don’t have coursework. Given that they’re fifth years with O.W.Ls later in the year, hours of study alongside homework are fairly common for most of them (alongside other activities, like Quidditch practice). There are the brave (or stupid) few who refuse to review, but Sasuke and Hinata are not among them.

Today, however...they just can’t resist the beautiful day, and decide to go for a bit of a walk along the grounds. Hogwarts shines in the distance as sunlight catches the windows, and the pair admire it quietly.

“So...coming to the match next week?”

“Of course. You know I wouldn’t m-miss you playing.”

“Even with all those plans to work on your herbology notes?”

Hinata gives him a hint of a smile. “I think I can be spared long enough to watch you destroy Ravenclaw in Quidditch, Sasuke.”

“Whoa, those are pretty strong words for you! Destroy? I didn’t think a Hufflepuff could know that word.”

She laughs, head ducking a bit shyly. “Well...given that we’re pretty far down in the ranks, I really only have Slytherin left to cheer for, r-right?”

“What, no love for the other houses? Sakura and Naruto will be disappointed.”

“I think they’ll understand. Though sometimes I feel a bit guilty. I mean...I have my bias. And I’m the only one who doesn’t play for a team, either…”

“You don’t have to play to appreciate it. Besides, then I’d feel bad for how thoroughly we whoop Hufflepuff every year.”

“Hey, we came close last year!”

“Close doesn’t cut it, it’s win or lose, right?”

“Yeah, yeah…”

“Well...hopefully we don’t stomp Ravenclaw too hard...Sakura always scares me when she’s got that beater’s bat in her hand.”

“You should be scared, she’s strong! And smart to boot.”

“I give her a wide berth whenever I can manage it, believe me. Though I don’t know what’s worse: her beatings or Naruto’s whining whenever Gryffindor loses. He sulks like a first year.”

“Well, it’s disappointing to lose. And don’t pretend like you don’t pout sometimes,” Hinata reminds him, giving the Uchiha a coy look with mischief glittering in her eyes. “I’ve seen you lose your cool over the g-game before, Sasuke. Especially when it’s a loss to Gryffindor.”

At that, he lifts his chin, expression stony. “But I don’t whine.”

“...mhm.”

“...say, are you still afraid of flying?”

The sudden shift in conversation makes her blink. “Well, I...I haven’t tried it in quite some time, but um...the idea makes me nervous, yeah. I don’t know...it’s just too risky. I’d panic if I fell.”

“You, panic? You’re the one who caught me when I fell. I think you could handle it. What would you say to me giving you lessons when we’ve got time?”

“Time? What’s that?” she can’t help but ask dryly. “I can hear my homework yelling at me from h-here.”

“I mean...we’ve got today.”

“...what, you mean n-now? You want me to try flying now…?”

“Only if you want to. I’m not about to force you. I just think it’d be fun to do it with you sometime. Get to muck about in the clouds and leave everything else behind on the ground.”

In spite of herself, Hinata goes a soft shade of pink. “...I...I guess I could try. But...don’t expect me to go very high!”

“Of course not. Just a little taste of it, see if you’ve lost a bit of your fear as you got older. I promise, you’ll be fine. Come on, I’ll get my broom out of the locker room and we’ll hang around the pitch for a bit.”

Once the broomstick is fetched, Sasuke leads her onto the grass of the Quidditch field. “Okay...remember how to mount one?”

“Yeah…” Gingerly accepting his broom, Hinata takes a steadying breath. Feet stand atop the rests that branch off from the hilt.

“All right...you’ll need one off to kick with, then lift it up onto the other rest. When it comes to height and direction, it’s all about the tip of the broom. You’ll get a feel for it. The higher up you point it, the steeper you’ll climb, and the same pointing down, and to the side. For now, we’ll just hover. You’ll want to keep your back straight - if you lean forward, you’ll take off. Think of your posture as your stop and go. Upright you stop; the more you lean, the faster you head in whatever direction you’re pointing.”

As Sasuke corrects her posture and demonstrates moving the broom about, Hinata does her best to focus. But feeling his hand on the small of her back is a bit...distracting. “I...I think I’ve got it.”

“All right...just a little kick to get you a bit in the air. Remember: broom angle, and posture. You want the handle of the broom flat, and your back straight up. A right angle means a level hover. Got it?”

“...got it.”

“All right...give it a go. I’ll be right here.” Just in case, he takes out his wand, ready to cast a spell to stop her momentum.

“...okay.” Adjusting her stance a bit, Hinata keeps one foot on a rest, the other atop the ground. She seems to psyche herself up for a few moments, gingerly hopping a bit before pushing off.

“Whoa!”

She shoots up about six feet all at once, and Sasuke manages to grab the broom handle, acting like an anchor as he keeps the handle level. He walks a few paces to keep up as she leans forward out of instinct. “Sit up. You’re all right.”

Barely daring to breathe, Hinata allows a hint of a nervous smile. “...o-okay, that...that wasn’t so bad.”

“Not bad at all. Now, we’ll just...hover for a minute, okay?”

“Right.”

“Keep both hands on the handle.”

“Got it.”

Slowly, Sasuke relinquishes his grip. The broom jostles a bit, but Hinata keeps her posture...and hovers in place, only gently swaying in the breeze.

“...there. See? You’re doing really well.” He gives her a grin. “...a lot better than the first time, huh?”

“I didn’t even get to t-try the first time...you got hauled into the sky before any of us had a chance.”

“Yeah, well...this still counts as better than that.”

“Better than nothing...sure.”

Dark eyes roll. “...want to try moving?”

“...uh…?”

“Just a bit. Go as slow as you want - this model’s pretty sensitive, so you’ll only have to lean a bit. If you want to stop, just lean back. It takes a fair angle back to go in reverse, so you’ll have little chance of doing that on accident.”

“Well...all right.” Testing her grip a bit, Hinata breathes a steadying breath before gingerly leaning over the handle.

“There you go…”

At barely a walking pace, she starts to move...and then dip.

“Easy, watch your pitch.”

“My what?”

“The dip of the broom. Remember to compensate when you lean forward.”

“Oh…” Letting it lift a bit, Hinata flickers eyes from the handle to the view before her.

“...there. You’ve got it. A lot of it you just have to get used to the feeling. Takes practice. Soon enough it’ll be more instinct than conscious thought.”

“You make it sound like I’m going to be doing this again.”

“Well...only if you want. But you’re doing really well, Hinata. How do you feel…? Nervous?”

“Um...a little.” Carefully, she leans back, bringing herself to a stop. “I mean...I’ve barely moved. Haven’t even tried turning, but...that wasn’t so bad, I guess.”

He gives her a hint of a grin. “We’ll have you on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team by next year.”

“Oh, oh no...I -?”

“Kidding, Hinata...kidding. But I’d still like to have that flight with you sometime. Though...I guess we’ll need to find you another broom.”

Something about his offer makes her stomach do flip-flops. “Um...s-sure. But um...maybe after a few more...lessons.”

“Of course.”

With a bit more guidance, she manages to land feather-soft atop the pitch with a giddy giggle. “Well...I guess I’ve officially flown, huh?”

“You have. I’m sure the others will be glad to hear it.”

“Oh…”

“...what?”

“Can...can we wait? Until I’m a bit better? I’d like to show them, see their surprise!”

Sasuke blinks. “...sure. We’ll have you pop out of the clouds and scare them half to death.”

“Oh, no -!”

“...kidding. Now...we better get back to our homework. Least we got a bit of a break, huh?”

“Yes, it was...nice. We’ll have to do it again soon, if...if we can.”

“...count on it.”

.oOo.

(This is a sequel to days 28, 230, 299, 316, and 324!) More Harry Potter verse! A bit of a jump in the timeline, and I know that last one is still a cliffy, but...I couldn't resist with this one. Poor Hinata, flying is a nerve wracking thing! But she's got a patient teacher ;3 Anyway, it's...ridiculously late, so I'm gonna go :'D Thanks for reading!

#sasuhina #uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #like magic [ au ]#365daysofsasuhina

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shoulda-stayed-frozen · 5 years ago

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Warm Up

[have some unapologetic as hell fluff and slowest burn in history. maybe in the next 200 years these idiots will hold hands]

[Nick Valentine x OC. if that ruffles your butt in the wrong way then ¯\_(ツ)_/¯]

It’s a long ways to that settlement that needs his help, and the unexpected freezing cold front has Nick forcing James to stop and try and get some sleep. Hard to do when you can’t seem to get warm no matter what. Good thing Nick is such a good friend.

I say I’ll move the mountains

And I’ll move the mountains

If he wants them out of the way...

One of James’s favorite things to do, Nick had been unable to help but notice, was to play the radio on his pipboy while they were on particularly long trips. He kept it loud enough for them to both hear, but quiet enough that if either of them got the urge to say something, it would be possible to easily converse over the music. James said he enjoyed having background noise, as it was good for distracting him from aching feet or sweat-soaked clothes or a tired back.

However this time around, the thing James was trying to be distracted from was the frigidly cold wind blowing harshly into his face as he and Nick made a slow trek down an open road. His teeth were chattering, and he wasn't entirely sure that the arms he’d crossed in front of his chest hadn’t frozen to his vault suit.

“You know, there’s being a trooper, and then there’s ignoring your own body’s warning signs for hypothermia.” Nick pointed out. The cold didn’t bother the robot as much as it did a flesh and blood human. Certainly it could be damaging, as the colder he was the harder his processors had to work to keep him warm enough to stay functioning. But the worst consequence he faced was passing out until the environment warmed back up enough for him to reboot.

If James passed out, Nick highly doubted he’d pop back up when the sun came up.

Crazy, he calls me

Sure I’m crazy

Crazy in love, I’d say…

James blew into his hands, frozen eyelashes fluttering against his face as he tried to blink and wet his icy eyes. “Gh...o-o-only a f-f-few more m-m-miles right?”

“Sure, if by a few you mean ‘ten’.”

James groaned in the back of his throat.

“I think we outta make camp for the night, pal.”

“B-b-but th-th-that s-s-settlement-”

“Not even Deathclaws are out in this weather, James. At any rate, you’re not gonna be much use showing up as a popsicle. Nevermind the cold, you need to rest. We can’t all be robots.” Nick smiled at him.

James glanced away at that comment, observing the blank countryside on his side of the road. It was true that they hadn’t seen a single wild creature since this wind had started. “...a-a-alright. But j-j-just until I w-w-warm up.”

I say I’ll go through fire

And I’ll go through fire

As he wants it, so it will be...

On principal, the two only carried one sleeping bag between them whenever they went on long trips. It reduced the weight load, and as Nick insisted time and time again, just because he could ‘sleep’ didn’t mean he needed to. He preferred to keep watch as James caught his forty winks, cleaning their weapons and having an occasional smoke.

For once though, Nick wished they’d brought two, so he could double wrap James up in order to warm him faster.

They’d found a convenient little nook in a cottage that was more frame than cottage, stacking up debris to form some pathetic walls around a small sleeping space for James. It was an easy spot to defend for Nick, but as far as warmth went, it was obviously pretty pathetic, if the continuous shivering of James was anything to go by.

“Thinkin’ of starting up your own percussion section with all that chattering in there?” Nick asked, ducking his head to peer into the tiny shelter in which James was curled up.

The vault dweller gave a little snort. “Th-th-that the w-w-wittiest c-c-comment you can m-m-make r-r-right now? M-m-m-maybe we sh-should be w-w-worried about you t-t-too. C-c-cold might be f-f-freezing up your C-C-CPU.”

Nick clicked his tongue. “Well excuse me for not being the shining beacon of dry wit when I’m a little distracted by worrying if my partner is gonna lose his trigger fingers and then some.”

James smiled at the synth as best he could when his jaw wouldn’t stop moving. “I-I s-s-survived being f-f-frozen before.”

“That was a bit of a cleaner process. Monstrous as those Vault-Tec guys were they at least knew what they were doing and were backed by a good amount of money as well. So I’m going to have to strongly discourage your amateur attempt at bargain cryotherapy.”

Crazy, he calls me

Sure I’m crazy

Crazy in love, you see...

James chuckled, cheered as always by Nick’s teasing. “I-I-I’m honestly t-t-trying here. D-d-doing everything sh-short of s-stripping naked.”

Nick cleared his throat, twisting the screwdriver against his metal wrist a little harder than he meant to and swearing under his breath when he dinged himself a bit. “Dammit…”

“N-N-Nick? You alr-r-r-right?”

“Yeah. Yeah I’m alright. Just...slipped my grip. Cold might be gettin’ to my servos a little bit.”

“You s-s-s-should g-g-get in h-here then.”

“Not exactly roomy accommodations in there, partner.”

“There’s s-s-s-sitting room.” James insisted. “J-just until y-y-you warm u-up a bit. I’ve b-b-been h-hearing y-your C-CPU going h-hard for the last s-s-several miles. Y-y-you’re going to d-d-damage it if you d-d-don’t give it a b-b-break.”

Nick squinted and looked into the shelter again. “You can hear that?”

“Y-y-yeah? Y-y-y-you c-c-can’t?”

“Of course I can but that’s inside me, and I’ve got unnaturally good hearing to boot. Might as well have told someone you could hear their heartbeat.”

James was quiet for a second. “...d-d-d-don’t av-v-void the topic.”

Nick rolled his eyes and sighed, tucking the screwdriver away inside his coat and standing up. “Alright, alright. Wiggle over a bit. Need a spot by the entrance so I can shoot anything that might get a little too curious about our make-shift Ritz here.”

James obediently wiggled out of the way as much as possible, letting Nick in and watching him take a seat by the entryway. “I-i-it’ll probably w-w-warm up out th-there soon right?”

“Uh...depends on what you call ‘soon’.”

“C-c-couplea hours?”

“Yeah, no. It’s gonna be a long night, pal. Better hunker down and get some rest while you still can.”

Like the wind that shakes the bough

He moves me with a smile

The difficult I’ll do right now

The impossible will take a little while...

James made a valiant effort to warm himself up and fall asleep, but the sleeping bag, which normally was perfectly cozy and even too warm on some nights, felt like it was made of paper. He kept curling and uncurling his toes and fingers just to make sure they weren’t falling off, and he was a little too terrified to fall asleep.

Nick was beginning to get concerned. It was only getting colder as the night got darker.

“Feelin’ any warmer at all?” He asked, brow furrowed in concern as he looked at James. The man had gone pretty quiet, compared to how chatty he’d been when they’d first settled down, and Nick couldn’t stop checking in on him.

James shook his head.

“.....” Nick looked out the entrance, which he’d blocked off as much as possible, and sighed through his teeth. “...dammit.” At least he was sure that he had a good reason for doing this, and couldn’t argue with himself later that he was using it as an excuse.

I say I’ll care forever

And I mean forever

If I have to hold up the sky...

James opened his eyes and looked curiously at Nick as the synth got up to his knees, shedding his trench coat and laying it over James’s sleeping bag. “Oh, N-Nick, you don’t g-gotta-”

“Scoot over.”

James blinked, and moved himself and the sleeping bag back a bit.

“No, move…” Nick sighed again, briefly rubbing at his forehead. “...move over in the bag. I’m getting in.”

James’s eyes widened, and he quickly turned his head away, making as much room as possible in the bag for his friend. He watched Nick remove his shoes, trying to look as casual as possible as the synth tucked himself up into the bag with the man.

Almost immediately James gasped a little. “Oh.”

“Huh? Did I jab ya?” Nick asked. He was being extra careful with his metal hand - Ellie had complained to him before that his fingers were just knives waiting to have their potential realized.

“N-n-no, y...y-you’re just...w-w-wow you’re w-warm.”

Nick exhaled and slid the rest of the way in, forced onto his side by the coziness of the bag so that he and James were awkwardly facing each other. He cleared his throat and chuckled a little. “These uh, these things weren’t really made for two huh?”

“W-well...n-not for uhm...not for n-not couples a-anyway.”

“...right. Right.”

“But that’s...p-p-p-probably what you m-meant.”

“Well-..yeah. That’s what I meant.”

“..right.”

“.......feelin’ any warmer?”

James nodded. “Y-yeah. D-d-definitely warmer.”

Crazy, he calls me

Sure I’m crazy

Crazy in love am I...

“Glad this ol’ CPU is still good for somethin’.” Nick chuckled, and James swallowed when he felt that familiar and comforting noise vibrate gently against his chest.

“Mhm.” James squeezed his eyes shut, sighing in relief when his jaw finally stopped rattling.

“...probably not the coziest space heater though, huh? Sorry about that. Cons of bein’ an immortal hunka junk.”

“You’re not a h-hunka j-...” James sighed, cracking an eye open. “...we’re just, positioned weird.”

Nick couldn’t argue that. They were both facing each other with their arms either tucked up tight against their chest or lying awkwardly at their sides. “Figured it’d be a little forward if I just went straight for friendly spoonin’.”

James snorted, rubbing at his face to hopefully cover up his blush. “This is a...survival situation, you don’t need to...worry about that sort of thing.”

“...alright. So long as you’re comfortable with it.” Nick refused to let himself hesitate any further. It was a survival situation. It was just to keep his friend warm and comfortable enough to get some rest. He shifted himself and wrapped his arms around James, pulling them closer to each other and letting James tuck his head against the synth’s chest. The strain on the sleeping bag greatly lessened as well.

Before he could quietly congratulate himself on executing that very platonic maneuver very smoothly, Nick found that his internal workings began whirring much louder when after a moment, James reciprocated and wrapped his arms around Nick’s back.

“...this is...th-this is really nice you know?” James said, continuing without waiting for a reply in order to clarify the question. “I-I mean, having...having a friend that’s not embarrassed to...I don’t think I could really count on...on any of my uhm, my friends back before the bombs to...to do this for me.”

Nick hummed at that after a second of thought. “Sad to say but, yeah, I think I do know. Nick Valentine didn’t have too many friends, but can’t say I would’ve counted on any of them to uh. Do this. For me, either.” Nick scoffed, a humorless laugh coming out. “Pretty stupid huh? All those unspoken social laws that governed everybody. Every man was expected to be a solitary island, standin’ on his own, no matter what the world threw at him. Wasn’t really fair if you ask me.”

“Yeah…” James closed his eyes. “Don’t think anybody even hugged me outside of my family except...except Nora. God...everyone in this world talks to me about how good it must have been, before...how great I must have had it. But, I...honestly I just remember that time as being so lonely…”

“Clothes were clean and food came in neat little boxes but it was all just pretty packaging over a pretty ugly world.” Nick mused, already feeling perfectly comfortable in his position and no longer even actively thinking about it. “Lotta folks managed to stay ignorant about it. They must’ve worked pretty hard to achieve that, huh?”

“Yeah…the Commonwealth obviously has huge problems, but...where there’s good people, they’re all...they’re all really close. Almost no one is afraid to let their friends know how much they care about them, because...well, there’s too much of a chance of losing them tomorrow. You know? Messed up but…”

“Yeah. I know what you mean.”

Like the wind that shakes the bough

He moves me with a smile

The difficult I’ll do right now

The impossible will take a little while...

“...I’m feeling a lot better.” James murmured.

“Yeah?” Nick shifted a little. “Should I-?”

“Uh-!” James was horribly embarrassed at how quickly he grabbed onto Nick’s shirt. “P..probably not. I mean I’ll...probably just freeze right back up…”

“Right.” Nick easily settled back down. “Better safe than sorry, hm?”

“Yeah…”

I say I'll care forever

And I mean forever

If I have to hold up the sky…

“...better try and get some shut eye. Don’t know how long we’ll have the luxury of bein’ left alone once the worst of this wind stops and things start creepin’ out.”

“...yeah. Right. Of course.”

“Sleep well, pal.”

Crazy, he calls me...

“...uh, Nick?”

“Mhm?”

Sure I’m crazy...

“...thanks, again.”

“Anythin’ for you, partner.”

Crazy in love am I...

#FO4 #fo4 oc #Nick Valentine #nick valentine/fo4 oc #James Lone #writing #mine #i really want them to just kiss but i cant #make it happen without a million years of build up #shakes fist at the sky

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