#this chptr is long like

[kurishiri]

20 . . . alfons main story

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ notice ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— cw: written depiction of blood, near death experience (= suicide attempt), maybe vague misogyny? angst.

The next morning, I woke up to a familiar sense of unease.

(Wait, huh...?)

I was the only one on the bed.

To be fair, that was a given, as this was my room, but also for a reason beyond me, I couldn’t help but feel something was severely off.

(...I... I’m pretty sure I slept with someone yesterday... or that’s how it feels...)

(.........But, just who was that someone...?)

I racked my brain, but nobody came to mind — it was as though some haze was blocking the way.

Even as I looked at my body and around the bed, there was not even a single trace of anyone having been here in sight, with the bed so neat and clean.

But——

(This smell... what was it again...?)

The moment I started to move, a sweet fragrance wafted up my nose in passing.

(Just what is this... when I’m taking in this scent...)

[1] my heart feels painful.

[2] my body starts to throb.

[3] a flame lights in the depths of my heart. (+4 / +4)

(I really feel as though... a flame has lit itself in the depths of my heart.)

(I don’t even know what this is, and yet...)

It was a fragrance that resembled a flower soaked in the dew of night, one that could clear the mind and calm the heart——

...And I wanted that scent to wrap me in its gentle embrace, never to let me go.

—— Scene change; dining room ——

Kate: Good morning.

Roger: Hey, morning.

Roger was the only one sitting in the dining room.

Kate: Is everyone else out?

Roger: Yeah, Jude and Ellis got their usual jobs going on. And Liam and Harrison went to the cake shop together.

R: As for Victor and Will, they’re at the palace, and Elbie... well, he might be out cold somewhere around here, maybe.

Roger gave a general overview of everyone’s whereabouts as he bit into his bread.

Kate: Oh, and thank you for yesterday.

Roger: No need, I was also able to make some good progress with my research too. It’s like a give and take situation, yeah?

R: Besides that, are you doing okay? You were looking pretty pale yesterday.

Roger pushed a silver stand with toast on it, silently telling me to eat.

Kate: Yes, I feel better now, thank you...

(Wait a minute... just why did I feel so down in the first place though?)

I came to the realization that the events of yesterday seemed faint and vague.

(I remember I went with Roger yesterday afternoon to meet the family of someone who had held a bearer of the ‘Curse of the Mirror’ dear.)

(And then...)

Kate: Wait, just why was I so pale again...?

Roger: Huh? It was because the results of the investigation came up empty. I thought you knew?

R: Well, empty aside from the fact that a memento alone is not enough to be able to escape from the tragic fate of those with the ‘Curse of the Mirror,’ so that’s why.

Kate: ...Well, yes, but why was I so bent on finding a way to escape from the Mirror’s fate specifically——

Just then, my heart thumped loudly in my chest.

(Just what... is this feeling...?)

It was like my body was being burnt from the inside as an intense urgency rushed through me.

(I have to remember.)

(I have to——)

(Because it was surely something that I should not... or absolutely could not afford to forget.)

——...You truly are a fool, in every sense of the word, aren’t you.

There, I heard the voice of someone who had rooted himself in my mind.

——Alright, fine, I understand now. I admit my loss.

Whose voice was this?

——Let us put an end to this now.

And just who are you?

——“I have always loved you” — in my own way.

Kate: ...——!

K: It was Alfons...

Roger: Alfons? Who in the world is...

After a moment of silence, those eyes widened sharply.

Roger: ——Tch, blast it, he got us...!

Kate: You mean, he used his ability to...?

Roger: I imagine. He probably said something like, ���When you wake up, you will forget everything about me.’

R: I was taking a nap down in the lab then. Damn... so he went and used his ability at that time, I bet.

Kate: I think it was the same for me... but that leaves the question of why he would...

(——Hold on. Could it be...)

‘Let us put an end to this now.’

(N-no, that can’t be true.)

The moment a certain possibility bubbled up in my mind, I shut it down.

After all, how would he even think of doing that for someone he didn’t even love? Snow would fall in summer first.

(But...——)

Elbert: ...Kate, Roger.

Kate: Lord Elbert...

Seeing Lord Elbert enter the dining room, I instinctively found myself walking toward him, pressing for an answer.

Kate: Do you remember Alfons...!?

Elbert: ...I do.

E: It seems that... Al’s ability has never lasted very long when he used it on me.

E: So that was why I was able to remember, the moment I saw the note he left behind.

(He left a note...?)

He handed me a slip of paper——and on it, the only words written were ‘Have a lovely rest of your life.’

Kate: ...No way...

That very message, ‘have a lovely rest of your life,’ rang with an air of a farewell for life.

Roger: Forget about a note, that sounds like an entire last will.

Kate: ...gh.

That possibility that I had shot down just before resurrected in my mind.

Elbert: ...There was a time I had asked Al what he would do were you to not give up on him.

(Give up... on him...)

—— Flashback ——

Alfons: Of course, to see whether you have given up on me.

—— End flashback ——

Elbert: And at the time, the only answer he gave me was that he would ‘cross that bridge when he got to it.’

E: But, when it comes to Al... I thought then that there was only one choice he would make.

Kate: And... what choice is that?

(Please.)

(I beg of you——please don’t say what I’m imagining.)

I stared at Lord Elbert, as if pleading with him.

Elbert: That before you get involved with Al further with your heart and body, pouring your time into him, and falling deeper in love with him...

E: ...he would disappear himself.

That one word — ‘disappear’ — was more than enough to freeze any thoughts in my mind, which had been in turmoil, breaking it down to shambles, just before.

(That’s right... from what I’ve seen, Alfons——was most definitely someone who would do that kind of thing.)

—— Flashback ——

Kate: And... are you telling me you would throw away your life just like that for a mere ‘plaything’?

Alfons: Exactly.

A: My own life holds about as much worth as a little tin soldier anyhow.

—— End flashback ——

Kate: ...We have to find him.

K: I can hardly bear for this love... to be what drives him this much to a corner...

Elbert: ...I had an inkling you would say that.

E: And I, too... normally, I would not chase after Al. But this time, I will make an exception.

E: ——After all, I would never let him disappear on his own like that.

(Is... is Lord Elbert angry...?)

I would expect anger from anyone other than him.

But, nonetheless, I still understood very well where he was coming from.

Truly, Alfons undermined the feelings of those around him.

Roger: But even so, someone who can slip by Victor’s eye doesn’t come around every day. It won’t be a walk in the park finding him.

William: ——If you are searching for Alfons, I’ve just received a report from Liam.

Kate: William!?

(I thought he went to the palace, so why... and besides...)

Kate: Wait, I thought Liam... didn’t he go to a cake shop?

William: As per the suggestion of the Privy Council, the purification club had set their sights on Alfons.

W: So that is why Liam and Harrison had been tailing him since yesterday.

Kate: I-is that so...?

William: That said, our goal was to follow the trail of those who were aiming for Alfons,

W: so that we could locate a central figure in the purification club and where he lived...

W: But this morning, Alfons didn’t bother to evade them. In fact, he allegedly even let them take him away.

(No way...)

William: And so I plan to go to the place he was taken to in order to pass judgment on the members of the purification club...

W: But as for you guys——

William’s eyes then meaningfully narrowed at us.

William: It seems there would be little point in asking what you guys want to do, am I right?

—— Alfons’ POV: a dilapidated mansion ——

Just wandering around the alleyways was enough for the purification club to take the bait,

as they took me to a room within a mansion that had clearly seen better years, where paintings with faded colors decorated the walls.

Dust could be seen everywhere, and I was sure if it were a lover they were taking to bed, such a room would be in sorely bad taste.

Parliamentary member with round glasses: I thought you would resist more.

Alfons: Then I’ll have you know that I do happen to be the type to simply be whisked away wherever any voice may call.

A: Oh, or was such information not disclosed to you when some certain higher-up handed you documents on us?

We were in a mansion that more so resembled ruins that people would rarely step foot in.

I sat down on a chair in the middle of the room, and several men surrounded me, all armed with a gun.

——I couldn’t ask for a more ideal situation.

Alfons: Would Lord Goa happen to be in attendance?

A: Well, I suppose not. Dirtying his hands from an evil syndicate would be sorely beneath him, I would imagine.

Parliamentary member with round glasses: I loathe that you call us as such. In fact, I should be calling you guys an ‘evil syndicate,’ no?

Parliamentary member with round glasses: After all, here you are, not bothering to even try to hide that suspicious power of yours, and even showing it off. That will only make you an enemy.

Parliamentary member with round glasses: Your name came up as soon as we told a certain personage about the features of the intruder who had broken into the hotel.

Alfons: Ahha! Now my curiosity on who that may be does tickle me. Were that I could spend a night with such a fan of mine, you see.

The man’s hackles seemed to raise when I responded with words to egg him on.

(Well, it’s a relief to know he is a simple-minded person.)

It seemed as though half a taunt would be enough to make that thread of patience break.

Alfons: ...Would you happen to be familiar with the story of Snow White, perchance?

A: I’m curious to know who you believe to be the most cowardly of the cast? What about the most cruel?

Parliamentary member with round glasses: I did not take you here to listen to you ramble about your childish riddles.

Parliamentary member with round glasses: You will be telling us about the organization you work for, and its members. If you do, I will at least let you go alive.

Alfons: Hehe... I take it this is your first time interrogating someone?

A: Because dare I say, you could learn a thing — or perhaps ten — from a professional.

A: Interrogation 101 is first researching every nook and cranny about the person you’re going to question, so you know how to threaten them into giving answers, you know, or you will only be making a vain attempt.

Parliamentary member with round glasses: ...And dare I say, that’s some advice from someone who simply let himself be taken here.

Parliamentary member with round glasses: Very well then. Allow me to answer your childish riddles.

Parliamentary member with round glasses: The most cowardly one is you, and the most cruel one is none other than me.

Alfons: Oopsie, I’m sorry to say you’re sorely wrong.

A: The correct answer would be the Mirror. For both questions, at that.

A: After all, it spoke a truth that nobody needed, and invited such a tragedy... and yet, by the end of the story would you not agree the Mirror has gotten away with it all?

Parliamentary member with round glasses: Tch, just what are you getting at!? Do you not value your own life at all!?

Alfons: Goodness gracious, you cannot even find it in your heart to entertain my fun word play? I implore you, do read in between the lines, will you?

A: I’m saying that I despise tragedies.

A: So, do you see now? You can kill me right at this very moment, and I will go out without so much as uttering a complaint.

A: Go on now, everything shall go as you wish. I could hardly care less about when or where I kick the bucket.

Perhaps unable to understand my words, the man with the round glasses humphed.

Parliamentary member with round glasses: You are a valuable source of information. Thus, until you spit out information regarding this ‘Crown’ and its members, I won’t grant you death.

Alfons: ...Oh, you poor soul. It seems reading between the lines was just too much to expect from the likes of you, so allow me the honor of clearly enlightening you.

I stood from my seat before approaching the parliamentary member.

Seeing me, who had not shown any signs of resistance until now, the guards who were originally relaxed, raised their guns in a single motion.

(Yes, that’s it, now there’s a good boy.)

Alfons: Speaking the truth and whatnot is positively beyond me. Do what you wish with me, but you’ve chosen the wrong person for true information.

—— Kate’s POV: city streets ——

On the way to the mansion where Alfons was taken, we crossed paths with Harrison and Liam.

After all, Roger had noticed there were guards lurking at the perimeter of the mansion, keeping watch.

Roger: I would bet they’re trying to get information on the people coming to rescue Alfons — that is, the members of Crown.

(If we’re too reckless, Crown would be put in danger.)

(...But——)

When I thought about the possibility that my memory of him would be lost for eternity,

I felt an urge so intense I could hardly bear it to just jump in the fray then and there.

Elbert: Roger... could you ensure not a single guard can escape?

Roger: Based on their positions and the number of people, I’d say four people are needed for that.

Elbert: ...If that’s so, may I leave that to you?

E: Kate and I will go inside.

Kate: Lord Elbert...

I was not the only one with widened eyes: the others also looked at Elbert with a slightly surprised expression.

Harrison: Well would you look at that, it’s not every day Elbie takes initiative.

Liam: I’m all for it. I’ll make sure there’s not a single witness around.

William: ——You are free to do as you like.

W: After we take care of those lurking around here, we’ll follow after you.

—— Alfons’ POV ——

Alfons: Speaking the truth and whatnot is positively beyond me. Do what you wish with me, but you’ve chosen the wrong person for true information.

Parliamentary member with round glasses: You wretched——

Alfons: Come on now, won’t you shoot me? Or are those guns of yours simply for display in light of all your cowardice?

As I drew closer to the guns, step by step, I unsheathed my saber with a smooth motion, and I heard the sound of guns being readied.

But lackeys needed an excuse to kill a valuable prisoner.

(For example, they got so agitated at having been egged on, they couldn’t put a cap on their emotions.)

(Or perhaps they felt their own lives endangered by retaliation, and so they acted out of self-defense.)

And if it was a mix of both, then all the better for them.

Parliamentary member with round glasses: Don’t shoot yet!

Alfons: Ahh! Is it that, despite the fact you find no problem in massacring people in the slums left and right like their naught but garbage, you feel disinclined to point a gun at a ‘noble’?

A: Golly, how much trouble I must have caused you.

A: But allow me to be the first to reassure you that, though I may act and talk like a noble... I actually do come from the slums you so loathe and despise.

(Just one more push.)

I only needed to make these foolish underlings, who didn’t bother to take away my saber just because I didn’t show resistance, think ‘I was dangerous.’

Alfons: So, how about it? Does it seem more doable now?

A: Oh, but if you still can’t find it in you to shoot, then perhaps I will take one of your arms first?

Just as I pointed my saber at him, fully intending to land a killing blow, though...

Kate: ...Alfons!!

Alfons: .........? [surprised]

——Resonating through the room was a voice I should have never heard again.

Upon hearing that voice, for a moment I had forgotten the smile I had worn to egg them on.

If this were a play, I would imagine such a scene would elicit a load of heckling.

And when I turned back, there I saw her, running toward me.

(——Why...)

I knew Liam and Harrison were tailing me.

And so, I led them here, and before they actually arrived on the scene, I would die by the hands of the purification club.

Afterward, Crown would interrogate them like the experts they were before condemning the leader of the purification club, and that would be the end of that.

I was sure they would only question ‘come to think of it, who was this again?’ over my dead body before being disposed of along with the rest of the guards.

——Or, that was how it was supposed to be.

Alfons: Ahh... good lord.

A: This reality can dig itself in a ditch for all I care.

A: Now look at what you guys have done. Thanks to your hemming and hawing, yet more trouble has found its way here.

Guard: Is that woman one of his friends——!?

Parliamentary member with round glasses: I’m not sure, as there was nothing in the report. Well, I’m sure this woman is one of many he picked up.

Parliamentary member with round glasses: ——It doesn’t matter anyhow. Just kill her.

The guns then all took aim at her.

(Ahh, jeez——)

Truly, what an absurd thing it was. [1]

—— Kate’s POV ——

Kate: ...Alfons...?

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion.

The guns that had originally been pointing at Alfons shifted to me.

But right as I thought that, Alfons’ back blocked them.

It was only after his body slowly reeled——

That the flow of time seemed to return to its normal state as his body crumpled to the floor.

Kate: Alfons...!!

Parliamentary member with round glasses: What in the world have you done! Blast it all! How can I face Lord Goa if he dies...

Guard who shot: I-I apologize!

Parliamentary member with round glasses: Forget it! You useless goons! Don’t move another finger until I order it!

While I heard the scolding from a distance, I ran to Alfons.

And I set his head atop my knees, somehow managing to lift his torso.

Kate: Alfons! Hey, Alfons!? Can you hear me!?

Parliamentary member with round glasses: Tch, you damn woman, you’re in the way, so move it!

A loud voice called out to me, causing me to raise my head.

(This person is——)

The man glaring at me was the parliamentary member with round glasses who was talking to Lord Goa in the purification club hotel.

The muzzle of the guns, which resembled a black hole, were pointed at the two of us.

Parliamentary member with round glasses: Stay away from that man. I’m sure if we torture him even on the brink of death, we can wring some in...for——

Man with round glasses: gh, ughh!? What is this...!? M-my head——

(Lord Elbert...!)

At some point, Lord Elbert was standing behind him.

Elbert: …I could say the same for you guys.

E: Could I ask you… to not get in the way?

Due to Lord Elbert’s ability, the parliamentary member with the round glasses was now clutching at his head, crouching on the floor while crying.

(I have utterly no clue what’s going on… but anyhow, we’re saved.)

The befuddled guards stood where they were, stupefied at the strange scene unfolding before them.

Alfons: Pfft, hehe, ahahaha!

Kate: …!?

All of a sudden, I heard laughter from within my arms, bringing my attention back.

Kate: Alfons!? Oh, thank goodness, you’re awake... wait, no! Why are you laughing!?

Alfons: Ahah— sorry, that’s my bad, it’s just... utterly funny to me— pfft, ahaha!

With every word he spoke, the crimson of the blood gradually stained the black of his clothes.

Kate: The blood...! Don’t laugh any more! It’s only going to make the bleeding worse!

K: Right now, the wound——I need to stop the bleeding!

Blood was flowing out from around his shoulders.

Seeming to overflow ceaselessly, I pushed down a handkerchief on the wound.

And it only took a moment for the white handkerchief to be stained in red.

Alfons: haa... hehe, haa... I really am sorry. I know myself that I’m a bloody mess right now.

A: But, goodness, how could I not laugh at this... pfft, ahaha!

(But... there’s so much blood...)

Kate: Gosh, I don’t understand, just what in the world’s so funny to you!? Because I sure don’t see anything worth laughing at...!

Beyond my control, tears started to prick at the corners of my eyes, overflowing.

They threatened to fall and scatter to the ground, but before they could, I felt his black gloved fingers wipe them, his touch ever so gentle.

Alfons: ...Hehe, seeing you so worked up... what a fool you are...

A: To think you would remember me so quickly, and chase me all the way to a place like this...

Feeling the warmth that seeped through his gloves made my chest tighten, and once again, I couldn’t do anything to stop my tears.

Alfons: As I thought, things never seem to work out with you, truly.

A: In fact, it went so awry, I found myself laughing.

Kate: Alright, fine, I understand now, so please, just don’t speak anymore...

Elbert: Kate, let’s tie this over the handkerchief.

Lord Elbert ran to us, a long white cloth in his hand.

It seemed he had cut off a part of his outer clothes from its seams.

And when I looked around him, I saw that the bodyguards, too, were crouching on the floor, as was the man with round glasses.

Kate: Thank you...

Alfons: Hah... were you always this efficient, Elbert... or did I miss something along the way?

Elbert: You were the one who taught me to use what is around at times like these... a long time ago.

Alfons: ...Well, look at you, so awfully earnest.

Once Lord Elbert wrapped the cloth thoroughly around the wound, he left the room to call Roger.

Alfons: ...I cannot help but wonder, though, how did you wake up so quickly?

Alfons looked positively bewildered as he asked.

Kate: I don’t know... how could I?

Alfons: Were it that you could stay beguiled for a tad bit longer...

A: ...you wouldn’t have to go through the person you love dying before your eyes like this...

A: ...and by the time the illusion wears off on its own, you would have forgotten about me already... if only.

Kate: D-don’t... don’t you dare say things like you’re going to die...

K: I would hate that... for you to die...

K: My love, all of my feelings for you...

K: Don’t you even dare... think of turning them into an illusion ever again...

I hugged Alfons’ body tightly — that was the only thing I could think to do now.

Otherwise, the shadow of death that slowly crept toward him would take him away.

Or, much like a mirage, his very existence would fade away from my memories.

Alfons: haa...

From within my arms, Alfons started to move.

And realizing that he was trying to lift himself up, I went into a panic.

Kate: No, you can’t get up! You’re still bleeding...

Alfons: By God, from the bottom of my heart, this was the last thing I ever wished to happen.

Just then, I felt a warmth brush against my lips.

(A kiss...)

The touch of his lips on mine was as light as a feather...

...and yet, out of all the kisses we had shared, this very one was the most fleeting, just as it carved itself into the deepest place in my heart.

Alfons: ...It would seem that... I love you quite a bit myself, as it were.

Kate: ——?

Alfons: At least, to the point where I want to confess like this at death’s door, and leave a trace of myself in your life... one that would never fade away.

A: Would you not agree that life... is quite a fickle thing?

He let out a laugh before his head started to spin.

(No...)

(Please... I beg of you, don’t...)

Kate: ...you...

K: Well, you haven’t left enough of a trace behind...! So I won’t ever, by God, let you die in a place like this...!

Even though he was on the verge of losing consciousness, he still slowly looked up at me.

Alfons: ...Then... how about we make a bet... the two of us?

Kate: ...? A bet...?

Alfons: If I die, then I win. I bid you adieu, and have a lovely rest of your life.

A: But, if I happen to survive this ordeal... then you win.

A: And, just as you so wish, I will love you back to the fullest——

A: And tear your life to bits and pieces.

to be continued…

“ love me madly or love me blindly. ”

← prev mad love blind love

masterlist🪞 ╱ ko-fi ☕️

NOTES:

[1] I find it a bit unclear what the subject is here; he could be referring to reality, or it could be directed at Kate. Or maybe both.

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ tags🏷️ ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ @drachonia @.comment, send an ask off anon, or dm to be added or removed!

[forest-falcon]

The Butterfly Effect

Chptr 17

It's been a while since I've last updated this fic, but here it is - the next chapter of The Butterfly Effect. Hope you enjoy! And thanks for everyone's lovely support with this story. Hopefully it won't be as long before the next chapter is out 🤞

No major tags for this one - minor angst, whump and a bit of family fluff thrown in!

💙💚🧡💛💜🐦‍🔥🚒

John was torn. Torn between all those who needed him. Torn between duty and love. But, in the end, the choice was easy. His place was on the GDF carrier headed for Auckland, at the side of his brothers and Grandmother.

The post-mission clean up (if it could indeed be called that), the press, and the rest of the world waiting on them, would simply have to manage. God knows, he was having to.

Hauling himself aboard, he gently touched the painted name of the carrier, before finding a vacant seat next to Tam.

"Welcome aboard!" Colonel Casey greets, over the sounds of the engines, and flicking of buttons.

Val had been good to them. As soon as she had a functional comms line up and working, she'd taken the initiative to pull strings with a number of contacts. Phoenix would be allowed the time off from their regular civilian jobs back home to help with getting International Rescue back onto their feet, if they so wished.

It was a unanimous 'yes.'

"We're here for as long as you need us," her words held a warmth befitting her honorary Aunt status. She'd squeezed his shoulder, before brushing a stray lock of hair out of Scott's face.

"Thanks," John sighed, with a gratitude that somehow furthered his exhaustion.

Although it was in the world's best interest to see International Rescue functioning again, as swiftly as possible; it was good to know that people had their backs when the chips were down.

Val made her way to the front of the carrier and a flutter of garish Hawaiian fabric filled the seat.

Gordon peered over the eldest brother.

"Hey there, Bird Bath! How's the head?"

A groan, but Scott's eyes remained shut.

"Gords..."

"The one and only!"

Scott could hear his brother's Cheshire Cat grin.

"As your brother, I feel it's my duty to tell you that that landing was...*raspberry* stinko, awful...I've seen Rigby land better!" He gave a thumbs down.

"Ah, save it! Yours is the one Thunderbird that doesn't fly," Rigby deadpanned, from the cockpit.

"Make him stop," Scott's hoarse whisper is mainly levied at John, but entreats any and all who can hear him.

"Gladly. Just tell me how," John smirks, finally letting his shoulders drop a fraction.

"Ah, don't be like that... Hey, I know what'll cheer you both up!"

"No."

"A good ole sea shanty!" Gordon whips out his pocket device.

"Veto."

"Aww, really John? Not even, 'Leave her Johnny, leave her?'"

"Especially not that."

"Fine. I've got you..."

A moment passes as Gordon scrolls, then taps; and the hangar bursts into song.

"Eurovision!"

Virgil reopens his eyes to the sounds of...wait, is that Conchita Wurst?

Oh God, Gordon - Rise Like a Phoenix...really? Phoenix. This was definitely Gordon's taste in music - and humour.

Virgil doesn't remember being hover-stretchered to the hangar, but it's good to hear the voices of his family once more.

"Stop your fussing. I'm fine,"

"I'll be the judge of that Mrs. Tracy."

"Matthew Eric Jones!" Grandma starts.

"She middle named me! Did y'hear that Mac? She middle named me!"

"Oooh! Now you're in for it!" Gordon's chimes in, clearly enjoying his inflight entertainment.

"I was a doctor-"

"-And now you're my patient. So, unless you're going to sign an AMA form, you'll sit back nicely, and let me do my job."

"Oooh, I like him." Grandma's voice concedes. "Fine. But if they keep me in, you're bringing the treats! And none of this basket of grapes rubbish. I'm talking chocolate and brandy - neat."

"It's a hospital, Grandma." John's voice reasons.

"And?"

"And you should know - better than most, that they're not gonna let us bring that in for you."

Grandma goes to fold her arms, then winces, with a concealed hiss.

"John. Kid. I'm old! Just stick it in a sippy cup and call it apple juice - they'll never know the difference!"

"Stop tryna...get John...into trouble."

It's a wonderful sound, hearing the deep rumble of baritone. Sally can feel a secondary tightness - one she could not attribute to her injury, leave her broken ribcage.

"Eh. Twas worth a shot." She offers up a warm smile, knowing he cannot see it - both her eldest grandsons sporting large foam trauma blocks; but she hopes he can hear the sentiment within her voice.

"Nice to have you back in the land of the living, kid!"

[fetch-me-penguins]

i want to live (Astarion x VampireSpawn! Tav)

Every minute that he holds on without loosing it, is a minute closer to dawn. A minute closer to whatever end this may have. The only thing a vampire can feel is hunger, people say. Gods, he wishes it was true. or Cazador takes Tav.

An angsty take on the premise of Cazador kidnapping Tav to replace a dead spawn on the Ascension ritual.

Read it on AO3

CHPTR 1 (you're here) | CHPTR 2 | CHPTR 3 | CHPTR 4

Out of all the places where they have camped so far, a Guild safehouse was not the one he expected to have the most spectacular view of them all.

At one of the highest points of the Lower City, in the courtyard of a seemingly abandoned summer house, Astarion has an unobstructed view of the sun meeting the sea as it sets in a show of blood orange rays and heavy purple clouds. A gentle wind, running through the trees and the overgrown wild lawn at the courtyard where they have set their camp, the heavy stench of the city getting lost between the blooming flowers and aromatic shrubbery.

He can hear a bellowing bard on a tavern a few properties down, the gliding sound of a sharpening stone against metal some place across the firepit, leaves rustling in the wind, and the owlbear’s claws as he stalks pigeons from behind the dry fountain at the entrance of the courtyard.

It is a beautiful evening at a peaceful camp, and he is indifferent to it all.

Even though he knows in his bones that something is missing, he can’t find it in himself to care.

Such is the nature of the Calm Emotions spell, apparently.

His mind is molasses, stuck on trying to separate his senses from his thoughts despite the throbbing migraine he has been nursing for an eternity, it feels like.

He can’t remember when or what was the last thing he drank, or how many hours he’s been awake. As far as he knows, the log where he sits is the only place where he exists. The only place where he is real and thinks.

There’s a wide pot in front of him, filled with a dark liquid and strange jutting shapes that resemble fabric.

He stares. He is almost sure it’s dye.

Puzzling.

Did he need something dyed? Is the clothing even his? How long has he been sitting here? He can vaguely remember seeing the high noon sun reflected on the surface of the dark water as it steamed and reeked, but surely it hasn’t been that long?

The sun sinks lower, showing off to no one.

The owlbear trips and falls with a thump and a whine, the pigeons fly away in a flurry of loud flapping and cooing. They settle on the roof. The sharpening stone glides. The bard is off pitch. The wind races.

He is cold. His hands and forearms are stained a faint hue of indigo. Like a drow.

They don’t feel his. If he flexes the fingers, they seem to move on a delay. Heavy, clunky.

His body is here, but his will is… somewhere else.

The untethered feeling should be nauseating in its familiarity, but it feels like nothing instead. Jarring, in a detached way his empty brain can’t begin to piece together. A pot of ink poured over a letter to hide whatever secrets it used to hold.

Just like the pounding headache, he hasn’t been able to get rid of the stone slab over his chest, a deep feeling of wrongness that he can’t quite place.

He searches for an anchor, something beyond the log that may make sense and he follows the sound of the sharpening stone.

It’s Karlach, sitting on a crate and sharpening her axe with minute care across the firepit. The orange glow of the sky reflects on the blade, casting light over her red rimmed eyes and a deep frown on her face. The mirror shine of her weapon stirs something in Astarion, a visceral urge to take his own blades and run…somewhere.

The urge fades as soon as it comes, drowned by another wave of numbness that he attempts to resist to no avail. The longer he tries to hold on to the memory of his daggers, the greater the pain grows, snaking beneath his eyes and into his teeth. It makes his forehead feel like it’s about to burst open until he surrenders to it, breathing shallow and bending over the tub.

He is cold. Hungry. And so gods damned tired he can’t even begin to think why, out of all the people in their bloody camp, he was the one given dyeing duty.

A man clears his throat right beside him, and Astarion can’t even bring himself to even blink as he meets Gale’s pitiful attempt at a warm smile.

“Time to take them out, I gather?” he says, gently placing an empty wooden tub at his feet.

He stares at the wizard’s face, the dark purple circles under his eyes and the straining at the corners of his mouth, his pale, dry skin.

He knows he is under a spell. He knows that this wizard is the one holding it over him. And yet, he feels nothing but a faint whisper of annoyance

Puzzling indeed.

Gale’s brows furrow slightly at the silence, and the fog over Astarion’s brain rises and swells. He fights it, trying not to drown in the void again. A throb pierces his temples, a familiar presence scratching and throwing itself with all of its might against the rock solid walls surrounding the numbness and confusion. His will, fighting the spell with almost rabid desperation.

Gale’s strained smile fades, and his eyes sharpen. The fog thickens and Astarion is pretty sure it’s going to split open his head and make him crack his teeth.

“Stop that” he snarls, his lips curling back, barely hearing the sharpening stone stop.

Gale doesn’t step back when Astarion closes in on his space, filling his lungs with the acrid smell of the wizard’s blood, the pain of his own hunger and the raging migraine the only thing standing against the muck in his head.

It’s Gale’s turn to stand still and stare.

“Astarion,” he starts, voice level but not moving an inch, “We agreed to this, remember? You told me yesterday evening to hold the spell until we could set out.”

He can’t remember, and he can’t even be alarmed at the fact that he can’t remember. He can only only puzzle over the here and now, everything else has been swallowed by the numbness.

Gale sighs and steps back, gazing over Astarion’s shoulder and slightly assenting to someone before his eyes return to his face. The fog barely recedes, but the pain dulls to a thud instead of a piercing lance. Astarion all but collapses back on the log, aching to claw at his own chest to force his lungs to take a full breath, to feel something other than the all consuming void.

The other man sinks down to one knee, his eyes searching Astarion’s face with something akin to pity.

Astarion knows himself. Which is why he knows that everything, even this, is amiss.

He should be sneering at the wizard and his pompous self righteousness, furious at the sorry state of his hands, fuming at the bloody bard with a piss poor pitch at the tavern next door, and he should be somewhere else. Somewhere important. The ache of not being there refuses to let him breathe and he can’t understand why, the answers locked behind the closed gates of his mind, tearing apart his temples every time he even thinks of getting them back.

He did this to himself, then. He gave another person his mind on a leash, and agreed to have disobedience punished with pain. And apparently, he made the choice at some point, to let his mind waddle in the muck instead of facing whatever it is that has everyone acting out of sorts. Specially himself.

He must have lost it pretty badly, to have turned to the fucking wizard for help.

Gale settles on the ground and moves the empty tub closer, pulling his long sleeves back and reaching for one of the pieces of fabric closest to the surface. Astarion follows his motions, reaching into the dark water and pulling on a piece of linen, some sort of sleeve now dyed a deep midnight blue.

Gale sighs again and he clears his throat, apparently intending to say something, when a shooting vine bursts from one of the overgrown garden plots, raining down a flurry of roots, clover and the busted pieces of a wooden hatch door. Karlach runs towards the noise, axe in hand, when the muffled sound of Shadowheart’s battle cry is followed by the head of her morningstar, smashing open the rest of the hidden hatch.

Astarion can feel Gale’s concentration on the spell sway, as he gets up and nears the hole in the ground where Shadowheart now has emerged, dragging the tumbling body of a young woman with a burlap sack over her head.

“Don’t tell me that’s-” Gale begins to question, a hint of anger in his tone.

“Yes, she is.” Wyll answers, voice flat as he emerges from the ground, followed by Lae’zel and Jaheira, who watches the scene unfold with her hands on her hips as soon as she is out.

Astarion is about to start twisting the linen shirt in his hands when something makes him stop cold, a whiff of the girl’s scent piercing through the sea of numbness and rattling something inside his chest. Sour sweat, the Flaming Fist’s standard issue soap, traces of orange peel oil. And underneath the drool and bile soaked front of her shirt, wine. Heavily spiced and bitter.

The blood covering her is new, though. It hadn’t been there before, he muses as the headache spreads from his forehead to the back of his scalp.

Shadowheart all but hauls the girl towards the empty rooms surrounding the courtyard and kicks open one of the wooden doors, splintering the frame. She unceremoniously drops the girl on the ground, her skull hitting the floor with a loud crack, and exits the room without looking back, stomping in a beeline towards the water barrel.

The sun has already set behind the ocean, but the bright orange light reflecting on the clouds renders their little group’s gathering around the firepit in a hellish light. Wyll groans as he takes Karlach’s place on the crate, massaging the side of his neck with a grimace. Lae’zel has taken to sitting on a log, her eyes dully following Shadowheart’s pacing from the water barrel to her tent as she forcefully removes pieces of her armour and throws them to the ground. Gale approaches with branches and a couple of thin logs to start their fire for the evening.

Astarion can hear Jaheira talking to a couple of the Harpers guarding the roof, but his eyes follow the interest of his nose, to the darkened room where their new prisoner hasn’t moved. Her wrists are bound, but it seems hardly necessary; she is missing all her fingers, except for her left pinkie.

He doesn’t need the tadpole or his head entirely clear to realize that whatever the rest of his companions were up to during the day, it has not gone over well.

“Well?” Gale prompts, once the silence has stretched long enough.

Wyll stares into the fire and feeds it some small branches before answering, “She said she cannot spare the hands. Specially now that she has weeded out rats on her den. She is gathering whomever can hold a sword to hold together what she can of the city”

Gale’s face contorts in a sneer and the walls around Astarion’s mind tremble.

“Whomever? More orphans? Is that it?” he almost spits out.

Wyll stays silent, and after a beat he responds, strained.

“The Flaming Fist is scattered after my father’s brush with the Absolute, the Watch all but disappeared under Gortash. They have at most two weeks before the fight for the city begins. If I were in her place-” Wyll’s mismatched eyes don’t meet Gale’s when he scoffs. The walls get a few hairline cracks and Astarion can feel the weight over his chest getting heavier and heavier, a vice growing around his throat.

“You wouldn’t have done that. And would have stood by your word.” Gale insists, bitterness seeping further in his tone.

“Chk. Shut up, both of you.” Lae’zel hisses in their direction, “Focus your anger on something useful or stop wasting it.”

Silence fills the fire pit, and Gale seems to get a hold of his temper, the Calm Emotions spell gathering back its steadiness.

“After what we did for them. After what she did for Nine Finger’s, for so many years. I don’t-” Gale sighs, rubbing at his eyes.

“Nine Finger’s is not like either of you.” Jaheira says as she approaches on long strides. “Loyalty in the Guild does not come cheap, and we have earned it. If she’d had the means to pay it back and hold us in her debt, she wouldn’t have hesitated to use them.” She removes the cork to her waterskin and takes a long drink. “But she doesn’t have the means. And the fact it’s one of her most loyal assets is the one in that palace, well…” she lets the sentence wander off into the night, putting the cork back on the waterskin and staring pensively into the fire.

“It was a long shot anyway, but we had to try.” she says with finality, her keen eyes scanning every face across the fire.

The silence stretches as Shadowheart joins the pit, her scowl lessened by exhaustion. Astarion realizes that he is still holding the linen shirt in his hands, his fingers now wrinkled and stained a nearly black shade of blue. He drops it into the dye water once more, the splashing sound of it the only thing to accompany the crackling of the wood burning in the pit.

“What about her?” asks Karlach, nodding in the direction of the room where the girl still hasn’t moved an inch.

Wyll looks pointedly at Jaheira.

“A show of good faith from the Guild. They don’t claim her, or her actions.” she stops once more, staring straight into Astarion’s direction. “We may dispose of her, as we plea-”

“Excuse me?” Gale interrupts her, “Dispose of her? Is this what we are doing now? Are we going to take turns on chopping up the only finger she has left?!”

“Gale, please-” Wyll rises to his feet.

“I hold no love for that-that individual in there. But it’s clear as day, that she has been through enough.”

Jaheira’s face twists into a sneer, her eyes fixating on the flames that seem to grow taller.

“That individual invited spawn into our camp and took our friend, the woman she called sister, to her doom. She has worked against her own Guild, against the Gate, for months! You cannot fathom the damage she has done!”

“She almost succeeded in killing me, so I can gather some! But I won’t be her executioner. She didn’t need to walk on her own broken feet all the way here, just to end up in a gallow with a different view!”

Jaheira seems to grow larger in the whipping light of the fire, her cold stare turning slowly towards Gale.

“Do you need a list of what that bastard is doing to our friend in that palace, wizard? Can you stop thinking of yourself for a minute?”

Gale’s concentration snaps like a tree in a hurricane, and Astarion gets a taste of everything he has been holding back.

He is a pig for the slaughter, a bloody canal has split open his chest and cracked open his ribs, but his lungs are frozen, refusing to expand. The firepit tilts, his vision blurs in a red and black fog, the burning logs and heated voices turn into a senseless cacophony that rises endlessly. He heaves onto the floor, his brain tearing itself apart between running away into the sunset or darting into the streets of the Lower City, gutting everything that may cross his path on his way to rip apart Aurelia and Leon, for what they have dared to take from him. She is gone, she is gone, he took her screaming four days ago and he is waiting for Astarion to come willingly to the slaughterhouse, to present his neck for sacrifice a second time. The wine on the girl’s clothes is an Utterdark, a favourite of the Master; a sickeningly familiar mix of spices, forever intertwined in his brain with the scent of rotting blood, rat piss and spawn waste in the kennels. Nails dig into his scalp, a burning pain that instead of tether him as it should, sinks him further into the sea of despair. The wine had been the only whiff of a smell on his year inside the coffin, the Master pouring himself a glass over the stone lid, just to let him catch its scent mixed with blood already in the glass. He hears his screeching laugh, the rattling of the chain whip, his own molars breaking, broken bone grinding against raw nerves and vermin flesh. She is there, she is strapped onto the rack, the stones of the palace drinking in her precious blood. And he is here, loosing his fucking mind in front of his own companions.

It stops at once, just like it began.

He finds himself on his hands and knees, staring to the cobblestone floor in the courtyard of the camp. The heavy silence only interrupted by Gale’s quiet cursing and Astarion’s own ragged breathing.

His arms tremble and he is so dizzy that he lets himself flop down on his back, shadows at the edges of his vision creeping back and forth in time with the renewed thudding at the back of his brain. His throat is raw and his breath shallow, but slowly a few stars blur back into focus, alongside a tiefling’s worried face hovering over him.

“This is not about revenge, Jaheira” a male voice says. There’s a slow breath before an answer comes.

“That is not the reason why she is here.”

The tiefling is slow and deliberate on guiding Astarion by the shoulders, first to get up from the ground and then to sit down on a log close to the fire. He lets himself be steered, still too addled to feel any hint of disgust towards himself for it.

The fire is mesmerizing, a much better sight than Gale’s conflicted face as something seems to dawn on him, and Jaheira’s solemn expression when she readies to speak again.

“The truth has to be spoken. Hazel has most likely been turned by now. We need to plan accordingly. And for that, we need to talk. All of us.”

She walks closer and drops to a knee in front of Astarion, blocking his sight of the fire and the blurry silhouettes of their companions. Her aged face fills his vision, her eyes purposeful but not unkind.

“We need you here, Astarion, really here. You know the inside of his lair, the dirty tricks he may use. Any advantage we can get, we need it now. We have to move at dawn.”

He is still shaking mildly, phantom traces of whatever had been going through his mind before he found himself crawling on the floor still floating around the fog inside his brain. It is an instinct to avoid Jaheira’s searching stare, whatever part of his brain that actually understands what she is saying taking control.

Her brows furrow slightly before softening again, her face loosing some of the tension around her eyes and mouth. She almost seems to grow old in front of him.

“I know a thing or two about loosing people, my friend. But the day they took my husband from me…” her eyes get lost on some point over Astarion’s shoulder, her mouth forming a thin line before she returns her gaze to him, “I have not forgotten that pain. So know, that when I ask you to let the spell run its course and get yourself together, I am aware of what it means.”

The walls around his mind hold back most of it, but the taste of bile at the back of his throat is reminder enough of the full force of what is happening beyond the limits of the spell. He’s not just drowning in despair. He’s terrified.

“He will be waiting.” His voice is a broken, whispered thing.

“Yes.” Jaheira answers, holding his gaze without flinching. “But you are not alone.”

His eyes drift towards the fire at her back, where a log and some pieces of broken furniture have been fed to the fire. The far off bard hasn’t stopped singing, although there’s a distinctly nostalgic quality to his bellowing now.

The tune is familiar, tugging at the strings in his throat and pounding at the insides of his temples.

The girl’s blood sings to him from a few meters away, but the wine on her clothes stills him with an iron grip at the nape of his neck.

He doesn’t want to think about it.

The druid sighs, and after a moment of consideration, she leans in closer.

“You know to fear your former master. But right now, you need to bear your teeth through that fear; let it wash over you and believe that you will get to dwell on it once everything is said and done. If not for her, for yourself.” She whispers, quieter than the breeze running through the courtyard.

His body has been numb and foreign for days, like a sleeping limb that refuses to recover sensation. At some point in the last five minutes though, the walls have thinned. He can feel it now, distant but clear. The wind on his arms, and a rising sense of panic that clings to her every word.

“You get to try to get her back. You get a chance to put the spawn on the ground and rise as your own man, Astarion.” Her hand is warm as she grips onto his, her earnest eyes unblinking. “You get to try. So try.”

He can feel it creeping on his spine, wrapping itself around his ribs and deep inside his skull. The full force of the last four days looming on the horizon, a wave gaining height.

Jaheira waits and doesn’t let go of his stained hand. The wind howls through the trees, the fire crackles and whips into the darkened sky.

You are not alone, she said. He knows these words, they matter to him. They echo in his bones, they loosen his chest just enough.

He grips Jaheira’s hand in return and assents before letting go. He closes his eyes and feels the walls crumble all the way, the crest of despair standing still for a moment.

This time he has half a mind to turn around, before it drags him under.

.............................................

He has no idea who the nonchalant performance is for any more, but at this point of the night he is way to exhausted to puzzle over anything.

Wyll, Karlach and Gale linger at the fire, spitting venom at Nine Fingers and her excuses, whilst Astarion wipes his hands of the grime from sharpening the last of the blades he’s settled on taking with him. He sneers at his hands, still dark blue and now smelling of steel shavings and polish. A cleric, a druid and a former Chosen of Mystra, bested by a bit of indigo dye.

He is not feeling optimistic about their chances.

Although, that may have more to do with the hunger burning a hole through his abdomen, rather than the actual state of affairs.

The spell may be lifted, and he may be able to take shallow breaths now, but its mostly because he has willed himself not to think about it, any of it.

There’s plenty to stew over anyway.

Like the fact that the pedantic vampire lord would surely choke on his wine if he knew that there existed a floor plan of his state on some courtyard in the Lower City, drawn by his own spawn with a piece of chalk. Crude marks for hidden entrances that Astarion knew like the back of his eyelids, traps that he’d been an unfortunate test subject for; and a short explanation, given in the flattest, most unconcerned voice he’d managed, of what intimately little he knew of Cazador’s magical preferences.

If Jaheira had been expecting more, she doesn’t show it. She merely nods and listens, even as Gale’s heart skips a beat at the mention of necromancy, and Karlach mutters a dejected “Of course” the moment he mentions Cazador’s misty form he’d used once, on a game of cat and mouse on the one night he’d dared to visit his own grave. Useless details they don’t get to know.

It may not be all that his former master can do, and he knows it well. But it is well past what Astarion could stomach to tell.

The metallic tang of polish clings to his skin with stubbornness, and the tavern next door has fallen silent a while ago. The wind rustles through the leaves above and he can tell with acute awareness, that the blood on the girl’s stumps has soaked through one of her bandages.

He clings to the pain in his gut, forcing himself to turn his head towards the fire instead of the alluring dark room. He is drawn to it, the way a fly aims for a rotting carcass on the street; and he feels the same disgust for that girl the way he does for the fly.

No one has mentioned her again. Not Wyll, who is strategically sitting down so he is giving his back to her, and not Jaheira, who marched off to the stairs the moment they could hear Minsc’s loud ramblings coming up the street.

If he focuses on the twisting pain at the maw of his stomach, he can’t think of the hole in his chest. If he tries, with all the might of his weakened senses, to hear the wretch’s rabbit heart pumping away, he can let the hunger eat him whole for a moment, and pretend that it is the only thing he has to worry about.

He is dizzy, the vision of his dry, splotchy hands blurring slightly, when he hears Minsc yelling just a few feet away from him.

“Astarion! Astarion, look!”

He barely has the time to lift his eyes before a longbow is placed in the very hands he’d been sneering at. He blinks several times, trying to focus on the thing. It gives off a faint, familiar glow.

“Wait. I’ve seen that thing somewhere.” Karlach wonders as she approaches.

“Ah yes! Minsc had forgotten, Karlach was there too when we pawned it off!”

That quip makes things fall into place. The Devil’s Fee. And what a fee it had been.

Gontr Mael is still one of the finest bows he has ever held. It had pained him to give it up, but they had needed to bypass the bloody diabolist as soon as possible to follow their idiot leader into the House of Hope.

Back then, even when things had been strained between them, he hadn’t hesitated to give up his most precious bow if it meant reaching her in time, even if he’d had such precious little time to enjoy its weight on his hand.

It had been so simple.

“Helsik gave it back?” he asks, in a slightly hoarse voice, as his hands find the spikes along the bow’s body and pluck at the tight string that binds both ends. As perfect as it had been then.

“A bit of persuasion and promises were needed, but not nearly as much as we had feared.” Halsin answers.

“Ha! Well, she still owes us nine thousand gold. She got so much of our stuff, and those gloves? Man, don’t get me started.” Karlach laments.

Astarion can nearly hear Halsin’s smile when he answers.

“In such case-”

“No way!”

He has a moment to feel a crumb Karlach’s joy as she takes the Hill Giant Guantlets from Halsin and almost squeals, the deep frown in her forehead temporarily smoothed out.

He catches sight of Jaheira by his tent as she drops the quiver of arrows by the entrance. As she notices his attention, she points her face quietly towards the dark room.

He leaves all the muscle gushing over their newly reacquired weapons and he approaches the broken threshold of the room, where Jaheira meets him with crossed arms, staring at the rumpled figure on the floor.

“So this is what our village berserk has been up to for the day.” He comments, following one of the bow’s sharp spikes to its curved end.

“The knucklehead was not going to let Astele's reasoning go unchallenged, no matter how sound it may be.”

The girl’s breath is shallow, the skin of her neck bathed in sweat. The heart still beats, weak and fast, but still alive. Beckoning him into the dark, an itching in his bones to rip apart this bag of meat that clings stubbornly to life.

He grits his teeth, and tightens his hold on the bow. A bitter reunion, if there ever was one.

He has plenty of those in his near future.

“Nine Finger’s was about to get rid of her when we got to the Guildhall. She offered to let us do the honours.”

“So you dragged her all the way here.”

She stays silent, staring at the girl. She walked the whole passage from the Guild to the safehouse and she had every chance to end it. To drop the girl and let her die in the darkness of the tunnel instead of pushing her onto his hands. But not only she hadn’t done that, she had apparently talked Wyll into it too.

“Why?”

Jaheira takes her time to answer.

“They say that the only thing a vampire can feel is hunger. Nothing else touches them — not grief, or mercy. Or any sense of what is just.”

Out of all the things the master ever used against him, the hunger was the one that had kept him in the tightest leash. Eating had been as agonizing as being hungry, the compulsion that made him crawl on his belly for rats would never truly leave him, even if he had no master.

Only one thing would, the one thing he is trying his damn hardest not to think about.

“Well. There must be something to it, then.”

“Perhaps.” she hums and leans back from the creaky door frame, shifting her gaze towards him. “Maybe a sense of what is just escapes most of us, not only the undead.”

Silence falls over both of them. He is almost afraid of it now. He has no escape, torn between his hunger and the frightening amount of contempt he feels for the woman on the floor.

He could see Hazel all over her, when they met her at the Basilisk door. The plain appearance and mended uniform hiding the quick wit and the muddy secrets.

She had vouched for them at the entrance to the Guild. She had been funny, she had watched over Mol when she entered the Guildhall and Hazel had been so relieved to see her that she’d almost seemed to float. The girl’s eyes had lingered on him, as so many eyes did now that he could be seen by day, and Hazel had teased him about it. An olive branch to try and stay the rift that was tearing them apart.

She hadn’t been attracted to him, he knows it now. She had been zeroing in on her prize.

Her name was Meg. Hazel had called her nutmeg twice, truly smiling for the first time in days.

He may loathe her, but he knows he will not enjoy this one bit.

“Try to get some sleep, Astarion. We need you at your best.” Jaheira says as she leans in and takes the bow from his right hand, turning away towards the firepit and leaving him alone.

He goes into the room and swings the door closed, decidedly ignoring the dejected sigh Gale lets out.

Alone and in the dark, his dark vision reveals details of the room in shades of black and gray. The scent of the girls blood blooms and fills his lungs with mouth watering expectation. The richness of a healthy human, a sprinkle of bitter adrenaline, and the foulness of the Utterdark wine still on her clothes.

If he had been near enough to camp to smell the wine, he would have known that the girl was an envoy of Cazador, even if she herself had no idea who she worked for. But he hadn’t been there.

And none of them had known who took her, not until it was too late.

The heavy silence settles on his shoulders and at the bottom of his neck. He wonders if it was done on purpose, the wine spilling over her clothes the moment Cazador decided to reveal his hand in a way only Astarion would understand.

Knowing that it would make him remember who he truly was.

He could make her suffer, he ponders. Make whatever Nine Fingers had done look like mercy.

He could give her some semblance of dignity. Prop her up against a wall and be done with it.

Or, he could just give in. Surrender to the instinct already thrashing beneath his ribs.

He could go down under, give control of his body to the ghost of a predator living inside his head, go away for an instant and come back once it’s over, one last time.

It’s easy, really. He truly makes things harder for himself when he thinks.

His legs seem to move on string, kneeling besides her on the ground. His hands follow the lead, removing the burlap sack over the girl’s head. Her breathing is shallow and she cries weakly as his fingers grip onto dark hair to tilt her head back. Her neck is already marred by a dark, thick rope burn; the markings of a noose.

If her blood smelled as foully as the Moonrise drow’s had, maybe he would have an excuse for the full body shiver of disgust that makes him close his eyes and cower deeper inside his head. Her blood smells fine. They need this. He needs this.

Bear your teeth through it, let it wash over you, Jaheira had said, whilst Gale had sighed like if he was the one destined for the gallows.

They know why the girl is here. They know what he is doing in the dark. They know that only one walking corpse will leave the room.

He was told to dwell on it when everything is said and done. So he will.

He feels his back bend and his jaw opens wide.

His mouth fills and he swallows pull after pull of something warm and soothing. He sinks his fangs again, digging deeper between the tissue, and he drinks everything he can. He focuses on the warmth spreading to his fingers and the clearing of his head, the burning at the mouth of his stomach cooling down at last.

He does not want to heave onto the floor. He is not avoiding to touch her skin with his lips as much as possible. He is not considering pulling the burlap sack over her head again.

He is not thinking of running away.

He is not.

Astarion straightens up and stares at the cooling body on the ground. Even though she has lost some blood in the last few hours, his senses sharpen to a needle point once more, the aches around his body only a sign that he really needs to lie down.

Jaheira’s awful fiddle plays into the night. Gale seems to be roasting almonds in the fire.

Every minute that he holds on without loosing it, is a minute closer to dawn. A minute closer to whatever end this may have.

The only thing a vampire can feel is hunger, people say.

Gods, he wishes it was true.

.............................................

The halfling behind the bar is the only soul in the Guildhall when their merry band makes their entrance. Astarion finds the lack of blood and innards pleasantly mundane, even if the smell is still atrocious.

As soon as the guard at Nine Fingers’ office lays eyes on them, she opens one of her doors and the Guildmaster’s voice emerges from inside. It doesn’t stop in whatever it is saying, not even as the guard signals in Thieves Cant to someone inside.

‘They’re here.’

Nine Fingers must be the one answering, because the guard looks back to them and motions towards the inside. Jaheira steps forward, and he is about to make his way to the bar with the rest of the party, when a quick whistle catches his attention back to the wooden door.

It’s the guard, making another familiar sign whilst holding his gaze.

‘You too.’

The scraping sound of chairs being opened and the heavy clang of weapons placed on the bar top accompany the slight dread that dawns on him as he approaches on quiet steps, focusing on whatever it is that Nine Fingers’ has been talking about this whole time.

“-I don’t give two shits if your wife is in labour Stefan! I want every bloody rat on this den exterminated by midnight. Don’t come back until it’s done.”

Jaheira seems intrigued as she approaches the door, dodging the unassuming young man that exits the office in a hurry.

The moment they enter the now familiar cavernous space, he can tell the situation is far different from their first meeting a couple of weeks ago. Nine Fingers is alone at her desk, dressed in leather armour even though it is close to midnight.

She may look composed, but the bulging vein on the right side of her forehead gives her away. The moment her eyes fall on him, her pulse quickens and a frown settles on her forehead.

“Where the hells have you been?! I’ve been trying to get a Sending to you for the last two fucking hours!” her eyes fix upon Jaheira as the older woman walks calmly to her desk, her voice rising slightly after the doors have been closed once more.

She is furious.

He shares the sentiment. Jaheira just seems tired.

“Apologies, Guildmaster. Bad reception at the Murder Tribunal.” the druid retorts, lowering herself on a chair without invitation. Astarion stays far from the desk, in what he can guess is the periphery of Nine Fingers’ field of vision. Just in case.

A beat of silence passes, as Nine Fingers pours a finger of whisky on a glass and pushes it towards Jaheira. She offers none to him.

He is over this conversation and it hasn't even begun. He wonders what even is he doing here.

“Got what you were looking for?” she asks, the vein at her forehead pulsing in the low light.

No, he thinks bitterly. He didn’t get what he had been looking for, because Hazel hadn’t ever been at the Temple of Bhaal.

Halsin had, but that was a given anyway. He even was unharmed and had been unconscious for most of everything, for all the good that did him.

But Hazel hadn’t been there. Not on the slab, not as decoration on the hallways or hiding between the cultists, as he’d dared to hope in a last bid to make the journey worth it. Orin hadn’t even known what they meant when they demanded she reveal her second captive.

The might have gotten rid of the last Chosen of the Dead Three and taken possession of her netherstone, but they hadn’t found their leader.

It had made sense back then, to think that the changeling had been the one to take her. He’d returned from his Minsc chaperoned diner excursion to a ravished camp, no Hazel and a letter written in blood, congratulating the party on killing Gortash.

It’s been a while since he has truly put his mind to try and understand anything that happens to them on a daily basis, and of course the one time he actually cares to follow the reasoning behind what their escapades, it has to fall apart.

At least he hadn’t been the only one dumbfounded at the Temple. Too bad Hazel hadn't been there to see Gale gape like a fish and be speechless for once.

“We did.” Jaheira responds. “A few errands to attend to now, before we move onto the brain and get this over with.”

The low light in the office may work to hide her from human eyes, but his darkvision reveals Nine Fingers’ face and the steady tick that pulls at her left bottom eyelid.

“A pity that your guiding shrub will miss all the action, after everything she did to get here.”

She must have guessed this was the way the conversation would go, because Jaheira merely blinks and stares at the woman across from her in silence. She hasn't touched the whisky glass.

“If you know something, you better spit it out Astele.”

“Of course I bloody well know something! I can’t believe you’ve kept this from me for the past three days, Jaheira. She’s Guild, she is ours too, for fuck’s sake.”

“She isn’t. Not any more.”

He doesn’t know why he says it. Maybe it’s the raising thirst gnawing at the bottom of his stomach, or perhaps it is the past three endless days that make him say out loud the thing that Hazel had only ever said to him through the tadpole. Or maybe it’s her tone. Her particular choice of words that remind him of his own former master.

Nine Fingers’ eyes snap from Jaheira to him, her face a mask of ice cold rage. This is the first time she has truly had him on her sight, and he doesn’t like it one bit.

“Think it’s that simple, Astarion? Leaving what we are behind? You better think again, because you past is catching up.”

Everything recedes. Nine Fingers’ racing pulse, Jaheira’s furrowed brow, even his own awareness of his name on her voice and the wrongness of it.

“What?”

“Your head is catching a pretty penny on the bounty hunter market these days. And yet, you’re still here. Bet you didn’t even notice the four hunters and the Shadow Thief that almost cashed in, did you?”

He thinks back to the last few weeks and can only think of one body out of place on the periphery of their errands at the Gate. But he can see Hazel’s dark circles grow purple and deep, taking guard more often and for longer, making her own tent and renting her own bed instead of joining him at his. He had assumed it had been because of their fallout after their increasingly bitter Ascension talks, but he’d only been partly right.

She had known.

“I warned her that you were trouble, that she should keep her distance.” Nine Fingers continues, holding him still with the weight of her accusatory glare.“Trust a thief in a hurry and a fool in love to run into the same wall twice.”

“I couldn't think of the kind of enemies you've made to have such an obscene bounty on your head, but now that the splashback of your shitshow has gotten me too, I can get an idea. Not many creatures in this city have to send a decoy first, to ask for permission to be let in.”

Whatever Jaheira says next gets overpowered by a shrill ringing in his ears. He barely gets to hear the name of Cazador Szarr leave Nine Fingers’ lips before he is pushing open her doors just to get away from the sound.

The empty Guildhall is still the same, his companions sprawled on the bar stools.

“Hey, Fangs! We got you some wine!” Karlach sing-songs, pointing at a glass in front of an empty chair.

He is paralysed at the threshold for a moment, his ribcage frozen mid breath.

“Astarion?” Wyll asks, getting up from his seat, “Are you alright?”

What now? What now that he has her? What now that she has been there for three days whilst they have been parading around and saving the world?

What now that she is dead?

“Slow down, what are you saying?” a voice beneath a sea of cotton asks, hazy silhouettes closing in on him.

His vision blurs. He can’t breathe. Where are his blades?

Hands reach over, gripping at his arms, his back. Growing whispers of something that sounds like his name but make no sense. No, she isn’t dead. What she is now, is much, much worse than that.

He has to go. Find anything to drink and then he will do something. Something other than doom her as he has been doing the past three days where he has play acted at being something that he is not.

See what happens when you leave your place, child?

A large red shadow looms over his vision, it reaches for him. The Master, come to take him where he stands and return him to his place. He is terrified. He wants to throw up. He wants to rip something apart. He wants to cry and beg to let him go. He wants to disappear.

Although you may try to deny it, what I made you had always been in you, son.

He reaches for the dagger at his hip.

A sudden bright light shines on his eyes and blinds him. A blanket of cold numbness cuts through the terror, making his vision clear and his hand relax. A metallic rattle echoes around the high vaulted ceilings of the empty Guildhall as he hears a blade falls to his feet.

Everything is quiet as colour and shape return slowly to his eyes.

Karlach holds a bleeding slash on her right palm, but her worried eyes don’t leave his face. Her blood drips onto the stone floor. Shadowheart is just beside her, her hands still emitting a faint yellow glow.

Gale makes his way from the edges of his vision, his hands raised. He looks remorseful. Astarion distantly wonders why.

“You’re under the Calm Emotions spell, Astarion. I’m… I’m sorry.”

His hands are too heavy to grasp at the dagger again, Gale’s words drip onto his brain one by one.

“We’ll figure this out, just—just hold on.”

He is cold.

[goodchristiangirlx]

Duty Whispers - chptr. 2

warnings: oral !F receiving, !p in v, tipsy sex?

A/N:hope you enjoy this little halloween special hehe

—————————————————————

yr2 Oct 1722

“What?’’

“What do you mean what? This is the first I’ve heard about it.” you retort.

Jane glares at you through an opened mouth and furrowed brow. Despite your two year friendship and tendency to share everything with each other, she conveniently forgot the 141s Halloween party. Tonight.

“Well you have to get a costume. We’re going.”

“Who’s gonna be there?”

“Everybody. Even Ghost.” she nudges your elbow. "after i said we were both going he said, 'turns out im free.' I mean, c'mon."

“Jane there’s nothing going on there, I mean it. He’s the LT it could never happen anyway.”

“Well who do you think organized all of those pairings for the missions? You think that overnight trip - alone - was because you’re the most skilled?”

“Fuck you” you laugh. You and ghost had become closer over the last year, his guidance on missions turned into partnership on long stakeouts. You really thought he had opened up, even just a little. He had taken off his mask for you, for gods sake.

You slump back into the canteen chair and wrack your brain trying to remember what miscellaneous clothes you have slumped into your dresser.

“Fine, i'll go. But I’m using your straighteners.”

----------------------------------˚౨ৎ˚₊--------------------------------------

2106

Your heels clack and through the thin hallway. The bar is already bustling with Halloween music and low chatter. As the music becomes louder and clearer the orange lit room comes into view, dark figures hunched over the bar and side tables. You try to shove your dress down a little further but it just bunches up again.

You walk over to the only figure boring enough to not dress up. “what’s your excuse for no costume then, ghost?”

“The mask is enough. And what are you supposed to be?”

“Uhm,” you point to the mini wings on your back. You had found an old white dress and Jane lent you the wings. The dress was definitely meant for your body 2 years ago, but not now. The straps stretched across your toned back and the hem hugged your things, clinging to the muscle that wasn’t there before. It made you look good. Just too good for a task force function. “hmph. Cute” he murmurs, staring into his whiskey glass, spiraling the ice.

Soap approaches the bar and leans over on one arm, looking at you, hair gelled back like wolverine. “What’re you drinking, angel?” he coos, looking at your wings.

you let out a small laugh showing your teeth. “nothing, yet. I just got here.”

“Well that has to change, doesn’t it?” He grins. Before you can reply, he’s called over the bartender and ordered rum and coke for the two of you.

“Cheers to the start of your second year here. And cheers to your first Halloween with us. ‘Mon ghost, raise your glass.” He reluctantly listens and the three glasses clink infront of you. You take a mouthful and let it fizz in your mouth before swallowing.

‘Thriller’ starts playing over the speakers and your eyes widen. Soap notices, sets his drink down and offers a hand, inviting you to dance. As you get up ghost’s neck cranes and follows you as you trail Soap.

You move back and forth to the rythym as soap snakes behind you, laying a hand of your hip swaying with you. His touch light, and playful. You fight your gaze away from the bar, seeing ghosts mask aimed at you. Jane dances her way towards you, taking your arms and pulling you from soap. You two dance and spin eachother, laughing and clapping to the beat.

As the song slows, you make your way to the bathroom and press some water to the back of your neck. Why was he staring at you? And why was he being grouchy with soap? Weren’t they close? He’s such a child. These thoughts swirl around your head as you walk through the hall once more, only this time the exit is blocked. “Excuse me, lieutenant.”

“What d’you call that, then?” he spits out, ignoring you.

“Excuse me?” you repeat in a more violent tone, already defensive.

“Wearing this? Dancing like that?”

“Oh come on. You’re being unfair. God forbid i dress up for once, try to have fun after these past few months.” You suddenly become hyper-aware of the skin across your chest and shoulders, bare and burning from his gaze.

"Jesus - you know," he drops his head to your ear, your back pressing into the cool brick wall. "for being so smart, you can be so dense sometimes."

"What then? Why are you here?"

"I'm here for you."

His hand moves to your waist. "And something tells me McTavish isn't who you've had your eye on, either." His gaze returns upwards, to your lips. Surrounded by black, his long eyelashes making his greedy desperation look almost innocent.

Your hands and eyes trail upwards towards his neck, where you slip your thumbs under his mask, but you don't lift it. "May I?"

He softly grunts, almost moans, in response before you hook it above his nose. His lips are slightly parted and the scar across them has left a line through his stubble. You move a thumb across his lower lip while he holds your chin up, forcing eye contact before he leans down and kisses you.

You can feel the scar against your lips but it doesn't make the kiss worse, he's too good of a kisser for you to care. You're both panting and squirming, hands roaming mindlessly before he breaks the kiss, to your disappointment. "Can we go back? To the barracks?" he whispers to your lips. You nod. "How will we leave together?"

"You'll tell jane you dont feel well, and i wanted to leave anyway."

You laugh, almost wondering if this was premeditated. "Okay then, i'll meet you at your car."

----------------------------------˚౨ৎ˚₊--------------------------------------

The tension of the car ride home means as soon as the door to his room locks, he has you pressed against it, lifting his mask once more. His hands glide from the back of your neck to your breasts and lower back, then your ass as he gets onto his knees, looking at you like a doe.

He gently unclasps your heels and you slip out of them. His hands curve up your thighs again and bunch your dress together as he lifts it over your hips. His nose tickling as it drags up towards your core. He plants a soft kiss that sends a shiver up your spine and makes your eyes close, then he's kissing you, guiding you backwards to the edge of his bed.

He's kissing below your ear as you reach around his back to lift his shirt off. As he pulls back he lowers himself to the floor and places a hand on your knee, spreading your legs. He presses a thumb to your clothed clit and hums as it turns darker.

A finger hooks the band and pulls the panties the whole way off. Your back arches as his lips make contact with your core, licking striaght up your slit and making circles around your swollen bud.

The rumble of his responses to your moans vibrate through you as the room fills with the filthy sounds of your pleasure.

A hand finds its way to his head, pushing down and grabbing at the mask that's adding to the sensory overload as he's making out with your cunt, fabric making your hips buck into him further.

"fuck Ghost mm-gonna-" you pant as he presses a thumb to your clit, cutting you off with a moan due to the sudden build up of pressure in your stomach. He presses further into your hips and they jump back, Ghost continuing to lick up your slick as you ride out the orgasm.

He brings you back and places a pillow under your hips and keeps a grip on your knees, keeping them open for him as he rubs himself sloppily through his cargos and slips on a condom. You reach forward to help him with his button and he kisses the sweet spot of your collar bone. As your head hits the mattress again, he’s already teasing himself by running his tip lightly through your folds.

As he inserts himself and begins to thrust you notice that he begins to quicken his pace sooner than you expected, in the low light levels you almost think you can see a slight flush of his cheeks before he looks across to the wall.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he grunts before whispering under his breath something about ‘better than he pictured you’ right as he slams into your g-spot making you both moan simultaneously. You loved how he reacted to you, your walls quickly accumulating for his size.

“Fuck I’m not gonna- last much longer”

“Nng I can’t- Simon I can’t…”

“Say it again, louder.”

“Simon, I need this.”

His thrusts become careless and messy but quicker until he spills into the condom and you feel a slight temperature increase in your core. You’ve never experienced orgasming at the same before, how intimate and amazing it is to come off your high completely synced. Ghost slowly pulls out of you as he’s leaning down and kissing you behind your ear again, lavishing in your fingers through his hair like a dog.

“Can I use your shower?” You finally speak, disturbing the silence.

“Yeah go ahead, towels are in the wardrobe.”

As you’re grabbing the towels, Ghost is gathering his and your clothes that have been strewn across the floor. He pulls his mask over his nose again and saying, “This uh,” he clears his throat. “I don’t do relationships. This cannot happen again and I- I’m sorry if I gave the wrong impression or-“

“Okay.” You respond, without turning around. “I agree, this can’t continue if I’m to be promoted etc, and frankly, respected. Glad we’re on the same page.” You smirk and close the bathroom door and by the time you’re out of the shower, the room is empty and your clothes are folded at the edge of the bed. You’re not surprised.

A/N : v v sorry this took so long, I’ve got an idea for the next chapter though, so hope it’ll be out sooner. Happy Halloween honeys!

[cryptids-streaming]

Winds of Change (Chptr. 2)

(For lack of a better title for the series. Bare with me ya'll. I don't have much time to sit and edit unfortunately, but hopefully you will still enjoy this next bit for the Y/N x orc series)

“Y/N!” I stood on the very edge of the encampment, arms folded over my chest as I stared into the horizon. “Y/N! Please...” I rubbed my temples, slowly turning toward the harpy. “What?”, I asked, my voice tight. “It's been two days, how long are you going to be angry with me?”, Kili asked, his golden eyes eagerly searching my face. He stepped closer, his wings flicking forward as if to touch me. I moved back, and his wings slowly folded back into place. Kili kicked the snow, his talons gripping the cold substance tightly. “I know you're upset. But, please, I am simply asking for a chance to explain. It wasn't supposed to go this way....” My arms dropped to my sides, finding it hard to be angry with him. “Then, in your mind, how was this supposed to go?”, I asked softly.

Kili lifted his head. “Just for you both to work together. For a common cause, even if that cause is mutual distaste for your father. I was going to ask you while you were in Oldroll, and tell you everything there.” “Even then, what would you have done if I refused?” “It would have been simpler than it is now. I would have found a different way to aid the horde, and you wouldn't be here.”, Kili whispered. I lifted a brow. “But now?” Kili tilted his head, not following. “But now that I am here, am I supposed to stay as a prisoner?”, I asked, my voice rising. The harpy sighed, his wings drooping a little. “It's my fault, I can own that. I should have asked you first before I mentioned you to the Chief. Yes, you have to stay. There is no force in any of these lands that could stop them from finding you. Orcs are particularly headstrong, they don't give up and are relentless.”

I huffed, running a hand through my hair and wincing as my fingers caught in a tangle. “Kili, they can't keep me here forever.” Kili shifted his weight, his wings adjusting and settling back into place. “All I am saying, is that perhaps you both should talk again. Start over, and talk it out.” I glanced over my shoulder towards the encampment, spotting Hakak staring at us from a distance. There was no doubt that if I bolted he'd catch me without an issue. Looking back at Kili, I bit my lip. “Kili, my father never told me anything of importance about the war. I don't even know what to ask, or where to begin. My only concern is avoiding being hauled back to that castle. I don't...I don't want to go back there.” Kili hesitated, then gingerly wrapped a wing around my shoulder in a comforting gesture. “I know, Y/N. Don't you think this is one way to achieve that? Think about it, all wars have to end at some point. Sometimes...sometimes solutions come through unconventional means.” I looked up at him.

“What do you mean? He wants to use me as a hostage. It's like the gods themselves are intent on my ass being locked back up in those stone walls. And I...I will not go back.”, my voice cracked as I turned toward him. Kili sighed shakily, wrapping his arms around me as he pulled me into a hug. He rested his chin on top of my head. “I know. I know. But there was another option, remember?”, he whispered. “What? Agree to being a hostage? Or being forced to be one? Not much of a choice, they end the same way.”, I grumbled into his feathers. “No. Agreeing to appear to be a hostage is much different than being an actual hostage.” “I don't follow.” My fingers curled into the soft down under his feathers. Kili didn't reply right away.

“It's true that you've been served a rather lack-luster selection of options. But if you work as an ally, you are not a prisoner. You'd have more room to make choices, for one thing. For another, they're an extremely loyal bunch. Saved my feathered ass a few times.”, Kili murmured, “So if you agreed to work with them, they'd likely not actually hand you over to your father. Do you see what I'm getting at?” I lifted my head and peered up at him. Kili looked down at me. “I hate being forced into things against my will. It still feels as if my freedom to actually chose is being taken away in this situation.” Kili made a series of low purr-esque noises, “Believe me, I am aware. I haven't forgotten the way you tore feathers out of me when I plucked you from that river.” I snorted, “To be fair, you scared the shit out of me. You were the first non-human I'd met.” “Like I was supposed to know you had a fear of heights. Next time I see someone in the process of drowning, I'll be sure to ask if they want to be saved before rescuing them.”, Kili replied, smirking as he slowly released me from the hug.

I ran my hands down the front of my tunic and short-skirt that I wore over leggings, then adjusted my winter cloak. “Kili, what even started this war?” Kili tilted his head, making a humming sound. “Perhaps you should ask the Chief that when you go talk with him.” I shot him a look, “Who said I was agreeing to going to talk to him?” The harpy grinned, “Because you can be quite reasonable when you want to be.” “He's an arse.”, I said noncommittally. “And so are you, but I'm still your friend.” I reached out and playfully shoved him. His wings fluttered as he recovered his balance, still grinning at me. “Fine. Fine! I'm going.”, I lifted my hands in the air, turning to head back into the encampment. Kili nodded, “I'll be back soon to make sure neither one of you has killed the other.”

“Wait, you're not coming with me? Where are you going?”, I asked, turning back to look at him. Kili winked, “I have my own set of tasks to do. You'll be fine. Just view him as a rather large, grouchy teddy bear or something.” I made a face, “Yeah...not going to happen. I don't recall any of my childhood toys wielding an axe, for one.” Kili snorted, hunching down before lifting off the ground with a push of his powerful wings. I covered my face as snow flew up around me. When it settled, I stood watching him as he flew off into the distance.

Heading back into the heart of the encampment, I tried to think of what to say. 'There is a lot I don't know about the war. Father was painfully vague about it when I still resided in the castle. Each story has two sides...', I frowned. What did I actually know? 'My lack of knowledge is biting me in the backside right now.' To be sure, I knew what people in the castle and the surrounding area said about orcs as a whole. And none of it was flattering. A violent group of people, comprised of several clans spread throughout the world, that made any seasoned soldier think twice before lifting their swords against them. My eyes narrowed as I walked, staring at the ground. 'Well, rumors are no stronger than wet paper in a storm. I need facts. I need the truth. If anything, I need to hear his side. Who knows what my father may have been hiding from me? Once I know, I will chose what to do next.'

I glanced up as I passed Hakak, who was staring at me without attempting to hide it. “Uh...Sorry. Do you know where the Chief is? Is he busy? I'd like to speak with him and I didn't want to simply waltz in there unannounced...”, I explained, my nerves causing me to stutter. He paused, then nodded. “Sure.” He began walking, and I stared after him before hurrying to catch up to him. “You don't talk much.”, I pointed out. “There isn't a need to.” There was a pause. “Besides, he speaks more than enough for both of us.”, Hakak added. I stared up at him with wide eyes, then burst out laughing. “Wait, what? You make it sound as if you're siblings.” “We are.” I stopped in my tracks. Noticing immediately that I had come to a halt, Hakak turned and faced me. “What?”, he eyed me. “You're serious?”, I gawked at this new information. “I am the youngest by two years.” He shrugged and started walking again.

I blinked rapidly as I caught up to him. “I'm sorry. I know siblings can be different from each other..but..for some reason, I just didn't expect that.” Hakak shrugged again. We reached the tent I'd been shown into the first day, and he announced something in orcish. There was a pause, and then a reply. “I really have got to learn orcish...”, I muttered under my breath as Hakak opened the tent flap for me. He let it drop into place after I entered, not following me inside. I waited for my eyes to adjust, and when they did, I spotted Mokoa standing over the table. His attention was glued to what looked to be a scattering of papers and a map that laid over the top of them. “Are we going to talk? Or waste time?”, he said without looking up.

I pursed my lips together, holding back a retort. “I'm interested in an actual conversation, yes.” “Speak.”, He waved his hand, gesturing to a seat across from him. The Chief's eyes remained on the map. Without hesitation, I walked forward and sat down. I looked from him, to the exit, and then back to him. “I will admit I am at a disadvantage when it comes to knowing anything in regards to the war. I can't really help you there, as my father was determined to keep me in the dark.”, I said. “Did you ever think there was a reason for that?” “Of course. But any time I pressed him too hard about it, he'd threaten to send me away...and later, to marry me off. Hardly ideal.” Mokoa straightened, finally looking at me. “You're a lady right? Of rank, don't look at me that way when you know what I meant. It seems strange how, knowing that you'd be in a position of leadership in the future, that he seemed to keep you in the dark when it came to political conversation. Wouldn't it be better to instead use it as a way to prepare you for the future?”

I scoffed, “Please. The only 'position of leadership' that was awaiting me there was over the kitchen.” He smirked, then shook his head. “Your people are...odd.” He hesitated, then said, “Truth be told, my father was the one who originally facing yours on the battlefield at the start.” I sat back, digesting this information. Come to think of it, he didn't appear to be much older than I was. My heart sank as it dawned on me. Before I could ask, he answered. “He died, yes. As did my mother.” “Both? On the battlefield? Both of them?”, I asked incredulously. “That is what I said.”, His voice was tight. “Both.”, I repeated. He pointed at me, “That's not what we're here to discuss, though. Is it?”

'Alright. Understandably a touchy subject.' “Right. Kili helped me...see things in a slightly different light. If I agreed to help you, what would that entail? What's the entire plan?” “The idea is simple, really. Send a message to your father. We have you hostage, something along those lines. He wants to get you back, so doubtless he'll come running.”, Mokoa shrugged. It seemed to be a gesture that both he and his brother used often. “You're thinking of an ambush? Don't you think he will see through that?” “We're planning on it.”, Mokoa replied. I was left feeling more confused. “Explain.” “Not until I am sure you're fully on board.” “I am! I am no fan of my father's. And clearly, you aren't either.” “There is a difference between familial disagreements and...this. You both may disagree on the color of a dress, but that doesn't compare to being prepared to spill each other's blood during a war. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?”

We stared at each other. I dug my nails into the edges of my seat, unable to fully hide the anger simmering below the surface. My face soured, brows knitting together. “I do not have to explain what my father has done to make me hate him, but believe me- if he behaved as dishonorably in battle as I've witnessed him behave in the castle, then there will be no second thoughts on my end.” Every word I spoke was laced with venom. Mokoa raised a brow, straightening as he studied me. After several minutes, he spoke in a low tone. “Then tell me why you were so hesitant to agree to help when you were first brought here.” “Because I was tied up and KIDNAPPED!” “Interesting choice of words. I would have used 'rescued', personally.” He had me there.

“You could have let me go the moment I was brought here.” “I would have, but then I learned who you were. There was a change of plans.”, he said. “Do you want my help or not?” “You're acting as if you have a choice. Either way, you will be fulfilling your role as bait. The choice you do have is if you're going to do it willingly. If you do, then I promise I will not let your father take you back to that castle.” I almost hesitated to ask, listening to the sound of my heart beat pounding in my head. “And if I don't?” When he didn't answer, I huffed loudly. “I already said I would help. I don't know what you want me to do to prove that I am with you on this.” “You said you don't know what your father has done, correct?” I blinked. “Correct.”, I answered cautiously.

“Then allow me to enlighten you.”, the Chief said, leaning back. I exhaled slowly, “You'll tell me everything?” His eyes narrowed, as if he was weighing something in his mind. “Everything.”, he agreed after a beat. “You'll leave nothing out?”, I asked. He flexed his hands a moment. “Nothing.” I relaxed, trying to ignore the anxiety settling in my chest. The way he was speaking made me hesitate. But, I wanted to know. Needed to know. “Then sit there and listen.”, he said, taking a seat as he braced his arms on the table between us and leaned forward. His expression was grim. Chills danced along my spine as I braced myself for what I was about to hear.

[parkswritessometimes]

Escapees of Iris CHPTR 8

[Chapter 1] [Previous]

Everything started to calm down when Marvin managed to find a spell or something and put Jameson to sleep. Chase could see it in his eyes, that mixture of terror and pride and love as he melted against the wooden door.

“He’s okay.” Marvin said. “He’s alive. Jackie’s gonna look over him for a few hours. I’m gonna get some sleep.”

And the house has been quiet ever since. Now it’s 2:30 am and Chase is staring at the ceiling as a movie plays in the background. He didn’t even get a good look at Jameson, he was a bundle of torn ratty blankets in Jackie’s arms close to his chest. Marvin was in and out of the room and all Chase could see was glimpses of a bruised sleeping man. Just fragile and small in the bed that used to be Chase’s.

Jackie and Jameson must be asleep by now. And it couldn’t hurt to just put some cookies on his table or something. He didn’t go on a baking and cooking frenzy for nothing. He pushes himself up and walks over to the cookies and begins to plate them. Three, no, five, ten, cookies should be enough for him. Maybe they could eat them together, share stories and talk, or well sign. If he was feeling up to it of course.

He turns the door praying the creaking doesn’t wake either one of them, he sets down the plate next to Jameson, his face still shadowed by the darkness. He turns back to Jackie, all curled up on the little couch against the wall.

“Hey,” Chase starts as he runs his hands through Jackie’s hair. Nice and smooth but also full of grease. Man probably hasn’t washed his hair in a week. Makes sense though, even on a good week he washes his hair maybe once or twice. Jackie leans into Chase’s hand giving Chase permission to talk. “Why don’t you go to your room to get some sleep in a bed-a real bed, not the couch.”

“I’m good here, thanks.” Jackie mumbles, readjusting his contorted body to a better position. His eyes are still closed and his mind is barely awake.

“Jackie, come on. You should sleep in your own bed.”

“‘m good. Go back to sleep. Thanks for checking in on me.”

“Jackie…Come on man. At least go get a shower. You smell.”

“It’s like 3:00 am, Chase.”

“Which means Jameson won’t wake up. Go shower and go sleep in your bed for a few hours.”

Jackie turns over and looks up at Chase. He can’t see the hero’s eyes but he can feel the exhaustion. The pain and pride and frustration. The small squeeze of a hand in the darkness made his mind flashback to putting Chole back to bed after a nightmare. “You promise the monsters won’t hurt me?” She’d whisper in the dark as she squeezed his hand. “Yes. As long as I’m here nothing will hurt you.” He’d reply.

“I’ll watch over him, okay? Or I can go grab Marvin if you want me to?”

“No, it’s okay man. I trust you with James. But if he wakes up, come grab me?”

He trusts him. Jackie trusts him with the most important person in his life. Chase’s heart doubles its pace as the weight of the words settle into his soul.

“Ye-Yeah. Of course man. I’ll come grab you.”

“Thanks Chase. You’re too good to me.”

A small pat on Jackie’s back, a hand ruffled in hair and the soft click of the door and suddenly he was alone with the man of the hour.

He can hear the water coming down from the bathroom next door and Jackie’s music blasting from his phone speakers. He made a note in the back of his mind to just get him a waterproof speaker, to save his phone from water damage. Jackie’s phone was busted enough as is.

Chase pushes the thoughts away as he sits down on the edge of the bed reaching over to turn the tableside light on with a click.

He somehow looks so much better and at the same time worse than he did in the picture. A beautiful green glow of Marvin’s magic wrapped around all the bruises and cuts that Chase could see. His cheeks were still hollowed out but at least he looks peaceful. Someone managed to get all the old and new blood off of him, and his arms are bandaged up in colorful blue and green gauze. No more red strings dragging his limp body up, his head lulls to the side in a comfortable position. His hands spell out something that Chase barely sees in the light.

Shit. He isn’t supposed to be awake yet.

“Go back to sleep James. It’s okay. You’re safe.”

Jameson’s hands twitch before spelling out something small. Delicate little letters that seem to hold all the love in the world. Well crap, should've paid more attention to those sign lessons.

“R-E-D” He signs “M-A-R-V-E-L”

R-E-D, Red, why is he asking for red? Does he see something red? Chase looks around the room for the red thing he wants. Jackie’s hoodie? Is that it? Chase grabs the plush red thing from off the hook and brings it back to Jameson.

“Hey did you want this? It’s Jackie’s, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you wearing it. He’s in the shower right now but he’ll be back soon.” Chase knelt down so he was at eye level with Jameson. He takes the hoodie from Chase’s hands holding it close before his eyes drift close once again.

Chase gives a small smile and watches the man’s chest take in shallow breaths. Maybe he shouldn’t have talked Jackie out of stealing that oxygen tank. He might’ve needed it. But they could’ve also just taken him to the hospital, with proper doctors and nurses and experts that could’ve assessed the true damage. Prescribe him the meds that he’d probably need. Chase drapes his hand against Jameson’s forehead like he would with Chole when she was sick. The warmth was apparent, an unnatural burn from his body fighting off unwanted diseases and infection.

He looks back over the hastly patched up body parts and messy wounds draped in crimson gauze. There was no doubt in his mind that Jackie and Marvin were capable of taking care of small wounds, cuts and bruises that they got when they went out- but this? There was no way that they could cure all of this. Marvin was good with healing magic but he wasn’t a doctor.

He couldn’t fix all of this by himself.

“Hey, did he wake up?” Jackie whispers as he walks through the door drying off his hair with Marvin’s good white towel.

“Yeah for a second. He signed Red and Marvel and I got him your hoodie and said you were in the shower then he went back to sleep. It seemed to help but I honestly don’t know what he was saying.”

“Oh, those are his nicknames for us. I loved red when I was a kid, so “little Red” was my nickname and Marvin was his “little Marvel.” We're not so little anymore, so Red and Marvel.”

“That’s really sweet Jacks.”

“Yeah, he’s too good for us.” Jackie says sitting on the edge of the bed next to Chase. He watches as Jackie wipes the tears from his face as he grabs his father figure’s hand. “He’s so frail, Chase. I-He’s not going to die. Right? I just got him back. He’s not going to die.”

It was moments like this that Chase is reminded that Jackie is twenty-five and barely functioning. A traumatized man who's known nothing but pain and suffering. He puts on a brave face so often and he’s tough, so fucking tough, but it only took a single arrow to kill Achiles and it only takes one death to break a man.

“Jackie, I think we should take him to a hospital.”

“No doctors.” He replies as if it was automation. And after everything he’s been through, Chase doesn’t blame him.

“Jackie, there’s only so much we can do. They’re professionals.”

“No they’ll get him hooked on painkillers or mess up his meds. Or think that we did this to him! Or hand him over to IRIS! I can’t-I can’t let that happen to him, Chase! Doctors ruined our lives! They can’t be trusted!”

“Jackie, hey, man. Calm down, come here.” Chase extended his hand letting Jackie fall into him. “We’ll figure something out. Maybe, maybe we can get a private nurse or something? We won’t let him die.”

Or a private doctor. A light flicks on in Chase's brain. Henrik. A friend he hasn’t talked to since Anti came back into his life. They were both haunted by the creature and Henrik had just recently got his life together. A new job and meds. His sanity mostly restored. He couldn’t rope Henrik into everything after his recovery.

He just disappeared for months. No calls or texts. No one was willing to help locate him or even willing to listen to Chase talk about him. And then he came back. Disheveled and confused. Going on and on about the man they had both seen in the shadows. It took months for Henrik to fully recover and Chase was one of the few who stayed by him.

And he tried to go back to work, be a surgeon again but he couldn’t. He got fired three weeks later. But Henrik managed to land a comfy job using one of his several degrees. Corner office with a view- last he heard- fully funded and a proper lab. And Chase couldn’t bare to impose on that.

But he still technically has his medical license. He could help. He had to help. If Chase begged and pleaded and explained the situation. Henrik could be… cold to say the least, but he wasn’t cruel. He had a heart behind those walls of steel and iron. Chase had seen it for himself first hand.

“What if I brought a friend?” Chase asks, “He’s a doctor but he doesn’t practice anymore and he’ll understand our situation.”

“Chase, I really don’t want a doctor touching James. And Marvin would be pissed if we found out we were even considering this.”

“Just let me give him a call?”

Jackie seems to mull it over, his fingers picking at a loose thread on his shirt before he looks Chase in the eye, “You really trust him?”

Chase meets his gaze without hesitation, “With my life.”

That’s how they met after all. A young 20 year old Chase was admitted to the hospital after screaming about something in the shadows trying to kill him. Henrik was fresh out of med school doing rounds trying to figure out where in the system was best suited for him. And most importantly the only one who believed Chase. He too was haunted by the thing that lurks in the shadows, pushing him to do dangerous things, threatening him if he didn’t follow through. They became close friends after they realized they share a tormentor.

And then there was… the attempt. Henrik was the only one who bothered to care for him after everything. He was the one who visited, bringing him fresh clothes and the good food. He was the one who would sit with him and promise that everything will one day be okay.

“Okay then. Call him.” Jackie relents.

“Thanks Jacks. Grab a cookie and get some sleep.” Chase says as he gets up from his spot.

“I’ll try.” He laughs quietly, more of a short breath as exhaustion was still clear under his eyes.

“Night Jackie.”

“Night Chase.”

Chase closes the door with a click and collapses back on the couch with a small huff. Checking the clock on his phone: 3:15. It would be about 11:30 in London, if that’s where Henrik still was. Henrik was never one to settle down in one place, especially after his own divorce. Bouncing from country to country, state to state, city to city. He always claimed it was for better opportunities and to see the world, but Chase knew the truth. It’s easier to just go if you have no attachments. And with Anti always right behind you, you have to go a lot.

Chase hovers over the call button glancing at the clock. No matter what timezone he’s in he’s probably awake. Henrik was the only person in the world who could run at full function with only 3 hours of sleep. So long as he got that cup of black coffee with 2 sugars. But still, the thought of waking him up or bothering him while he was doing something important ate at his nerves.

But this was for Jameson. Someone his boys deeply cared about. His pride be damned

Chase pressed the contact and listened to the drone of the ring.

His leg was bouncing by the third ring.

“Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice message system. At the tone please record your message when you are finished recording, you may hang up or press one for more options.”

The phone beeps and Chase sighs.

“Hey, Henrik, it’s Chase. I’m alive. Sorry for dropping off the face of the earth. It’s a really long story, but I need some help. My friend, he’s dying and he doesn’t trust most doctors. Longer story. I don’t even know where in the world you are but if you can come to LA, I’ll pay for the flight and the cab fare and the hotel, just please get here as soon as you can. I miss you. I promise I’ll explain it all just, get here now. Please.”

Chase hangs up the phone and lays down on the couch, pulling the chaotic pile of twisted blankets on top of his body. He rests his phone against his stomach as he stares at the landlord-white popcorn ceiling, mind reeling over everything that had happened within the last few hours. It was a small miracle when his eyes finally slipped closed and his mind faded to black.

———

Thank you once again to @jellyfishdooter for pushing me to continue this project. I love you so much!!!

[Want more?]

[lexosaurus]

Was wondering with the holidays coming up if we could get a little sneak peak of the Christmas EWW chptr ? (If you have any of your ideas for it down yet I mean) If it's too spoilery I understand, not trying to pester or anything, just was giving it a re read recently and I'd be lying if I said I'm not super curious (and excited) lol.

Oh ppl are totally allowed to pester me about EWW in fact I encourage it.

Also I'm all good now so ppl are back to being allowed to pester me about my other fics too haha.

X-mas chapter bit below the cut in case people don't want to be spoiled! Keep in mind it's only in its first draft, but I think this is pretty decent and also a good preview of what's to come 👀

****

The door swung open with enough force to plow through the wall. 

Or, that’s what Danny was imagining, at least. But despite the loud bang of the door, the scrambling feet, and overwhelming voices, the door stayed perfectly intact on its hinges.

“Aunt Alicia!” Jazz popped up from the couch. “Welcome!”

“Jazz!” Alicia stepped through the interior, her suitcase in hand. A green coat had been thrown over her overalls and plaid T-shirt, and she shed it as soon as she stepped through the threshold of the door. 

Jazz hugged her. “Good to see you! You haven’t changed a bit!”

It was true. No matter how old Alicia got, she still wouldn’t be remiss without her red mullet and bulldog-like features.

“I can’t say the same about you!” Alicia said, slapping her hand on Jazz’s back. She pulled Jazz away, surveying her up and down with a grin. “Look at you, your hair’s so long now. And have you grown?”

“Not since I was like thirteen!” Jazz laughed. 

Maddie peeked over their shoulders. “I can take your suitcase to the guest room.”

“Nonsense!” Alicia barked. “It hasn’t been that long since I’ve been here. I remember where it is just fine!”

“Don’t worry, Alicia,” Jack said, getting up from the couch. “Go catch up with the kids! I’ll bring your stuff upstairs.”

As usual, Alicia hesitated at Jack’s offer, looking him over as if he were three feet tall and made of fool’s gold.

“Thank you, Jack!” Maddie snatched the suitcase and coat from her sister’s arms and passed them off to Jack who quickly disappeared upstairs. She ushered Alicia into the living room with a, “Come, sit. It was a long flight. Would you like anything to drink? We have both red and white wine somewhere in the cabinets—oh, the white hasn’t been chilled.”

Danny sat rigid on the couch, the cushions suddenly feeling hard underneath him. His brain registered a vague pressure on his thighs, and he glanced down to see his hands gripping his legs. It was still strange to feel only pressure where his brain expected more, and he let his legs go. His arms fell awkwardly to his sides, and then he realized that Alicia was slow to sit down on the armchair, her eyes looking over him like he was some sort of alien at Area 51.

That wasn’t even a far comparison to make. He was the alien at Area 51. Only, instead of being located in the desert, Area 51 was his damn living room.

[arrow-alrakis]

9 Ship Songs

Thank you sm for the tag!! @dujour13

For Larksharius & Rimerock! Their love story and lore. :3

I don't have 9 songs yet, and some of these are their character theme songs. I will share the lore with the songs, here we go! ^^

Link to the Playlist (the order of songs follows their story timeline)

1. Lost at Sea - Rob Grant, Lana Del Rey

Pov Lark. Timeline before they met Ri in Lost Chaple again (their second encounter).

Once you told me Look for the North Star Then you'll see Heavenly, I hear Found my way to the beach There were waves over me I was lost at sea 'Til you found me, 'til you found me ... I was found lost at sea

As I mentioned before, Lark falls unconscious when they overused their power and exhaust their soul&body to an extreme. Their soul is forced out of their body to the bank of the River of Souls. They will perish if their soul can't wake up and get back to their body in time.

Lark carries a radiant scale (fallen from Ri when he rescued the sinking ship hundreds of years ago. Lark was a small boy on the boat. It's their first encounter). Whenever Lark is unconscious, the scale glow and radiant coldness to wake them up. It's a North Star, glowing even at the darkest part of the river, guiding the lonely soul back home.

(Their love story is a hundreds years long Lost & Found.)

*My art is still a wip! Lark's soul wanders on the bank of the River of Souls.*

2. Windswept - Crywolf

Pov Ri. Timeline before he met Lark in Lost Chaple.

Ri's gold dragon mentor Mirikshul was killed. He missed her too much, and suffered from severe corruption.

(I only love the loneliness and desperation in this song. Most of the lyrics don't mean anything. Ri never loved Mirik in a romantic way. )

But in my head I am still there I can still feel you Breathing slow I've known this dream for a long time In the air Suspended here With thousands of words we've spoken Can I soar Up through the clouds Leave all of this behind ... All alone I feel your breath I hear your whispers Dark like storms Telling me, "Dear, I'll never leave your mind."

3. The Beach - Wolf Alice

Pov Lark. Timeline when Lark (still a lich) visits the Osirian deity Set in its realm.

Imagine the song starts with the two bargaining.

(1: 55) is the time when Set's scythe cuts through Lark's body and soul. The blade cut off their 50+ years of existence as a lich. The process only took a second, but it feels like actual 50+ years because Lark has to experience these times again and made their way out.

Set and related lore here, for those who haven't seen my Egyptian deity with 2 dog heads. :3

Pressed in my palm Was a stone from the beach The perfect circle Gave a moment of peace Now I'm lying on the floor Like I'm not worth a chair I close my eyes and imagine I'm not there

4. Surrounding - CHPTRS

Pov Ri. Timeline after the two meet again. They built trust and love slowly kicks in.

Lark enchanted the radiant scale and return it back to Ri as a necklace. It helps him maintain a clear mind from corruption madness. (but nothing can cure the corruption, Ri is still dying.)

By now I'd be gone but You found me, you found me I now know the love that's Around me, Around me And the people surrounding me In the face of the worst in me Don't lose hold of me now I'm barely hanging on Don't go far from me now I'm barely holding on somehow

5. Obvious - CHPTRS

Pov Ri. Timeline after the two meet again, Chapter 5. Right before Ri's ritual to become a dracolich (hopefully an arch dracolich, the ritual is special, reinvented by Set).

The two now accepted the fact they love each other. If Ri can make it through the ritual, they will officially be lovers. Lark feeds the Potions of Dracolich Transformation to Ri in a long kiss. This is their first kiss too, Lark is saying please come back to me, don't die, I love you.

If I'm not swinging, then the war is won Caught beforehand Falling forward All in front of us Light bestowed The heavens open Was it obvious? Isn't it obvious? You were right in front of me With the answer

At the end of Windswept, the lyrics are "Are you still my answer/To the question I've asked since I was born". Ri was seeking his answer, and now he found it.

6. End of the Earth - MARINA

Pov, Ri & Lark. Timeline after Ri's successful ritual and the crusade ended. Now the two stick together forever, planar travel everywhere.

(also thanks to Blackstar, Ri ascended. The divine power let his body capable to run almost in the same way as a living dragon. He can eat, sleep, and do whatever he wishes to.)

Lark:

Do you ever think how this life could've been? If you never took the chance A leap of faith and danced with losing it all

Both:

But I'll give my love, I don't care if it hurts 'Cause I'll love you 'til the end If we're torn apart then I won't let go 'Cause wherever we are it feels like home ... 'Cause I'll love you 'til the end of the earth

Anyone who'd like to do this plz consider yourself tagged! ^^

[kurishiri]

HELLO!! i am new to the ikemen games and i am obsessed with ikevil!! your translations are amazing, i feel like you make the story telling so fluid but also the way you format things is beautiful <3

i was curious, do you typically do translations for the stories you’re super interested in? how do you decide what to translate :o

do you have plans for future route translations?

thank u sm for ur time <3 ur amazing

hii hello hello!! 🥹✨✨ welcome to the world of ikevil and ikeseries! i always enjoy talking abt it, hehe. and wow omg tysm for ur kind words too! /gen i feel i dont hear these words v much as a whole so it really means a whole lot to me for u to take some time to say 🤍🤍 i do try my best to make my tls at least a bit pretty and fluid to read and in char hehe. im really happy if it came off that way 🥺💕💕 also u r amazing too! v much!

and for the questions ,, the long and short of it is probably if its smth that has alfons in it, or the vogel guys, i may tl the stories abfhsjgds and for future route tls i probably will to do darius and nika .. maybe ring as well if no one picks it up. but i will tl any ikevil story, even a main story (or like single chptrs of a main story), if im commissioned. i dont openly advertise them bc idk how to nhdhdsfs but i do in all technicality have open comms for tl. in all honesty if i had all the time and money in the world, i would tl everything that came, as ftr idm tl-ing for other chars as well. but since im limited in both, i have to pick and choose, and to keep this hobby fun, its natural i would choose stories that have who i like more or am curious abt more in em 🥲👌

overall i do tl as a hobby and the stories i tl, i often get with my own pocket money. and you will probably feel this as you continue playing, but cybird stories r not cheap. at all haha. like for example alfons episode 0 costs an equivalent of around $20 alone bdhjshfds (though the set does come with a matching attire) orz all that said though ive had no regrets on any of the purchases i have made with episode 0s, ahah

[forest-falcon]

The Butterfly Effect

Chptr 14

🧡❤️🩶💛🚒🐦‍🔥

"So what's the plan?" Rigby jogged up alongside John.

"Here," John pressed a button at his wrist and the rock face in front of them opened; much the way a garage door might.

"Impressive," Rigby mused aloud. He let out a long, low whistle as he stepped inside.

"We need to clear a path around the pool. Jetpacks just won't cut it if we're gonna try n' stabilize One," John pointed to his brother's green Bird.

"Need me to pilot her?" Rigby's face held more than a trace of excitement.

"Oh...no, sorry," John scratched the back of his head.

"You'll be driving one of her pods. When we've cleared enough of the debris, and the villa has been stabilized; I may need you in Phoenix's carrier to help with moving One."

Rigby straightened and gave a nod.

"Time is scarce. Reports say Alan's okay, but we have a further three people in the villa who may require urgent medical attention, and I can't risk McCready's team in there until we know they have a chance at making it back out again," John sighed.

Rigby cleared his throat; his face visually construing a silent inner-debate.

"What?" John urged, then winced inwardly at his tone. Adjusting to Earth's gravity appeared to be even more wearing when fearing for your family's well being.

"You know, you can call them by name - Virgil and Gordon. We...we have your back," Rigby gave John an awkward clap on the back.

The clap echoed around the cavernous hangar.

John swallowed hard to staunch impending tears. There was a second's pause, before the astronaut stepped into his missing brother's Bird.

*. *. *.

"Knock, knock!" Parker called to signal his arrival outside of Alan's door.

"Erm...am I supposed to say who's there?" Alan's young voice came back.

" 'Oo's there? Well, hI'm glad to see that yer haven't lost your sense of humour along with yer bedroom!" Parker chuckled as he worked the lock on Alan's door.

There was a satisfying sound of the latch clicking, and the door swung open.

"Looks like you could use an 'and, Master Alan," he smiled, extending a hand.

"F-A-B-," Alan enthused, hauling himself up, and into the corridor, with Parker's help.

The teen cracked his back.

"Welp, I think I now hold the Tracy Island record for the longest pull up!"

*. *. *.

"We had to make an 'ole in Master Gordon's window to get to you. 'Fraid your brother's parking had made somewhat of a mess," Parker gestured towards Gordon's rooms.

"Didn't you teach him to drive?" Alan grinned.

"Cars, young Master Tracy, not rocket ships! And, I'll 'ave less of yer cheek! Scott might not be firin' on all cylinders at the moment, but you mark my words - I 'ave a memory like an elephant!" Parker chuckled, wagging a finger.

"You look like one too!"

"Oi!" Parker swatted at the teen as he ran.

*. *. *.

John and Rigby had made light work of clearing the debris surrounding the villa, and the structure was stabilised enough for a team to head up to help locate Virgil, Grandma, and Gordon.

"HELLO? VIRG? GRANDMA? GORD-"

"-OVER HERE!" Gordon hammered a small rock against a metal support beam.

The team tentatively picked their way over splintered floorboards and around mounds of rock that lay strewn across what was left of the comms room.

"Allie, is that you?"

"The one and only! I've brought some friends with me. Didn't wanna hog all the glory, y'know?"

"Phoenix?"

"Yup!"

Jonesy took a step closer, with a small hydraulic whine from the suit.

"Jonesy?"

"S'up Gords? I like what you've done with the place. You're kinda lacking in the door department though."

"Well y'know what Virgil always says; if you can't find a door, make one!" Gordon called from behind the fallen rocks.

"My thoughts exactly!"

"WAIT!" Tycho was almost pulled forwards into the rock face as he tried to stall Jonesy's suited arm.

"The structure's too unstable. Any attempt to move these boulders risks the whole lot coming down on top of Gordon," Tycho gesticulated wildly.

"Yeah, let's not do that." Gordon deadpanned.

"So what's the plan?" Jonesy couldn't deny that the thrill of using the exosuit had him itching to use his new superpower again. Two tonne boulder? No problem! He'd just shifted it like....kapow!

Tycho dragged his hands down his face as he thought.

"Hmm...we need to get a better view of what we're dealing with. Right here, we can only see half of the puzzle." Tycho pensively ran a hand down the largest boulder.

"And how are we gonna do that?" Jonesy was under the distinct impression that Tycho wasn't referencing the exosuit.

"I think I have just the thing!"

The scientist bent down and unfastened the clasps of a small metal case he'd carried down from the carrier.

"Jonesy, meet Mini Max.”

[lyxzeun]

— OVER THE MOON ?! ; chptr 07 ; valentines date ; ALHAITHAM

CHAPTER SYN. he invites u to a vday date (that’s literally it my bad)

ALHAITHAM X FEM!READER

mlist || prev. (for other choices) || next.

wow, you thought. you’d never think that he would actually want to go on a date with you, especially being a long time friend of yours. alhaitham would always be a quiet, mysterious guy that you’d always be able to read like a book, but deep inside, you still knew that alhaitham still hid feelings for you, especially now.

the day on valentines, the two of you spent the day together with you dragging him everywhere at the mall and eating various things at the mall. alhaitham couldn’t complain, this was what he wanted. a nice date with you. the way he spoke to you, you knew that this is where he could possibly open up more to you, about his feelings about you. alhaitham, being a studious man, it could be seen as he keeps it all to his chest and doesn’t really show the emotions and feelings he’s known for you, but now, you’ve always been seeing the true him. the true alhaitham that you’ve always loved.

walking around the mall, your arm linked to his, your shoulders suddenly bumped on one persons arms. but, wait… is that… zhongli?

taglist (open) ;; @rifran @kaoyamamegami @crimxn @cameshitpost @skimm0nzz @maisieisbae @afoxesgreed @thomawifey @raideneiari @richxelle @br34ky0ursp1n3 @duckyyyx @aeongiies @n-i-f-y @akagism2 @tracylvst @jadiebug06

[melkyt]

In my modern au, i try to keep the scars, disabilities and injuries as close to canon as I can,

Now, with Kidd, he wouldn't have lost his arm as a kid, but in this he does, and not that long ago. At around age twelve.

I was trying to make elaborate ideas of how it happened, accident was most likely but I circled back around to the canon 'Shanks did it' (i know he didnt in canon but everyone sure blames him cx, which is fine. Kidd did attack first but i think Beck cut of his arm right? And got no credit for it lol)

Thinking about how when Luffy brought down the second barrier, Kidd was doing something he shouldn't at the docks where the mural was and one thing led to another and Shanks was there and was too late in helping

Kidd just remembers thats who took his arm and none of the semantics.

Shanks scrambling with memories of two conflicting lives about to get another lecture

Shanks and Doffy (plus others with their particular genetics are the only ones who remember the old world in my au, so they are struggling)

And now this red head kid is yelling at Shanks for taking his arm and Luffy is asking why Shanks took Jaggy's arm and its dramatic

Im having a blast, chptr 23 baby, woot xd. Half a dozen more chapters to go and people other than me get to read it, lolol

[goodmorrowing]

It's been just a little over a month since you released chptr 5 but it feels like eternity

i'm so surprised by this because normally i am in full agreement and i'm like "yes omg i released that forever ago, wtf have i been doing all this time???" but it literally feels like yesterday and i find that so interesting!!! but i'm very sorry it felt like so long! five minutes??!

[parkswritessometimes]

Escapees Of IRIS CHPTR 6

[Chapter 1] [Previous]

“Marv, come on man!” Jackie’s voice seeps in through the cracks in the door. 

“No, we have to get them involved!” Chase rolls over and pushes the pillow over his ears. The shouting match had been going on for what felt like hours. Debates on what their next move was, getting some organization involved that caused the two to scream some choice words. God is this what it was like for Chole? Hearing screaming matches go long into the night that leave  you exhausted in the morning? His poor baby.

“The magic circle doesn’t want us! When are you going to realize that? They do not care about you or me or James! They won’t help us!” “Yes they do! They have to! It’s Jameson, he-he’s-” “Just because we  care about him doesn’t mean the magic circle does! They’re a bunch of assholes, Marvin! They don’t want people like me, or tainted magicians like you!”

“I am not tainted!”

“They think you are! They said that right to your face!”

“Fuck you, Jackie!”

The screaming match finally comes to a close as the front door slams shut. Chase’s body tenses as the apartment shakes. Nothing those two say ever makes any sense. But to be fair, nothing has made sense for a while. Debates of magic and circles, and IRIS, and things Chase could never comprehend. 

Whatever though, Marvin would go out somewhere and cool down and they’d make up. They always made up. It will be fine. But a sound of pure devastation washes away any feeling of security. A single heartbreaking sob. Every part of Chase broke when he heard it. Like a child trying so hard to hold everything together but breaking at the first chance they can get. 

He was only twenty five after all, a full ten years younger than Chase, so much weight on the poor kids shoulders. He should be out partying, out with girls or guys, having stupid love trysts. Not holding an entire family together. 

Chase throws everything aside and pushes the door open . He doesn’t know if Jackie wants or even needs him to comfort him, but he does know something he can do to help. Cook.  Food always helps, and Jackie hasn’t eaten anything besides a protein bar, a five hour energy and a prayer for the last few days. If he just gets some food in that poor kid, things will be better. He hopes.

 Chase doesn’t say a word as he gets the pans out of the cupboard. He doesn’t know what to say, but he does know that this will help. Veggies from the crisper, eggs taken from the fridge and frozen hashbrowns from the freezer take their place on the counter.

“Hey, I’m making us an omelet and hash browns,” Chase calls  from the kitchen as he grabs the good knives from the back of the cabinet. “And don’t even think about protesting, just sit right there and don’t move.” Chase hears Jackie’s hum of acknowledgment, taking that as an agreement he wouldn’t grab his mask and jump out the window looking for an asshole to beat up. Good. He can’t watch Jackie stumble through the door with blood on his face again. 

“I’m sorry you had to hear all that. I didn’t-We didn’t- I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay, Jackie. I forgive you. Just, stay there, please.”

“Okay.”

The only noise in the apartment is the music coming from the stereo in the living room and the sizzle of the butters from the pans. But not a word comes from the two of them. The smell of breakfast, of home, spreads throughout the connected rooms. 

Chase watches Jackie from a distance making sure he stays in his place on the worn out couch. Jackie’s eyes continue to fixate on his board, his knees up to his chest and his chin resting in his knees. He watches in horror as hot, angry tears run down his face. Chase knew those tears. He’s cried them far too many times. Usually he’d dully the pain with sweet whiskey and rum. But he had a feeling that Jackie wanted, maybe even needed to feel it.

“You need to eat if you’re going to take down a big bad demon.” Chase plates the two meals and sets one down in front of Jackie and tilts his head towards it.  He watches as Jackie blinks a few times snapping out of his dissociative state.  

“Oh, thanks.” His voice is quiet and monotone, not fully back from his mind. “Of course, Jacks.” 

The knives and forks scrape against the plates and fill the void where a conversation would take place. He watches Jackie wipe his damp face with his hoodie. Chase reaches over and wipes the tears away.

Chase notices how Jackie almost disguises a flinch at the contact, staring down at his half-empty plate. Chase thinks he should pull his hand away but Jackie looks at him with those big sad eyes, and Chase stays.

“Hey, Jacks,” Chase whispers, his hands resting against Jackie’s face. “You wanna talk about it?” Jackie shrugs, but leans into his friend's touch. Chase smiles and waits for Jackie. He’d wait an eternity for Jackie.

“I don’t understand why Marvin doesn’t listen to me.” He whispers, turning away from Chase, “The magic circle doesn’t like us.”   

“Magic circle?”

“They’re a bunch of assholes. And they don’t-they hate people like us.”

“People that were in IRIS?”

“Yeah." Jackie spat, "We become tainted." He explained using his fingers to make air quotes, "Pumped full of chemicals and artificial magic and steroids and so much shit. The magic circle only wants those who are pure.” “Oh,” Chase manages to say, how was he supposed to reply to that? An organization that only wants people who are pure? That was messed up on so many levels he didn’t even know where to start.  

He turns back to talk to Jackie but only sees his eyes locked on the board staring down the scientist. More tears fall down his face as he bites his tongue and shakes his head, leg bouncing under the table. Chase tilts his head as he analyzes the face on the board. He never realized how similar the two of them looked. And then it all clicks.  

Marvin would smile and spin tale after tale about his life before IRIS, what little he lived of it, and talk about his magic, his people. Meanwhile, Jackie has never talked about his life before IRIS, his parents, or his powers- deflecting and laughing whenever someone even tries to bring up the subject. 

“Jackie, how did you get your powers?” Chase asks, each word carefully chosen to not send the hero off the edge. He watches as Jackie chuckles a bit as he wipes the tears from his eyes. 

“My dad was- is an IRIS scientist. One of the best. And I would sneak out of daycare to come visit him in his office. Because I loved him.” Chase slips his hand into Jackies and gives a small squeeze. He was here, he will listen.  “He was all I had. And I was a kid, I was five! How the fuck was I supposed to know not to touch the stupid electric orb and not drink the shit in the refrigerator! I was a kid! And he just threw me away! Like nothing! I was his son, his kid!”

“Jackie, Jackie, breathe. Take a deep breath.” Chase places Jackie’s hand on his chest and takes a deep breath with him. He places his hand on Jackie’s cheek brushing some of the hair out of his face. He’s watched Marvin comfort Jackie through panic attack after panic attack. He knows what to do. Kinda. Deep breaths, contact, and names. His name. “Jackie, hey, Jacks. I’m here. I’m right here.”

Chase presses his forehead against Jackie’s. They sit like that for a moment, maybe two. They sink into each other holding each other tight, as if there was a scientist or a monster waiting for the perfect moment to pull them apart. Chase moves his hand right above the small on Jackie’s back and pulls him close. He needs his friend as close to him as humanly possible.

It was almost instinct when Jackie tucked his head under Chase's chin, the father wanted to scoop up the young man and keep him close to his heart. But Chase wasn't that strong and Jackie was a bit too big, but they did the best they could. A small part of Chase’s mind thought that if he held on tight enough he could crush the crumbling pieces of his friend back together. 

And then he remembers Chloe coming home after school one day, crying her eyes out because she was bullied for bringing her favorite stuffed mouse. He tried shielding her small form from the big world. Giving her the biggest hug he could muster. But the terrible thing already happened, so all he could do now was comfort her the best he could manage. And afterwards they found a sewing kit in the closet and stitched the poor thing together. Chase wonders if he could do the same thing with Jackie. Find something that could stitch him back together and make him smile again.

“You don’t have to tell me anything more. I understand. It’s okay.” Chase breathes.

“No, no, I want to tell you. You deserve to know.” Chase nods and pulls back, continuing to rub Jackie’s back in small little circles. 

“Sparks were flying off my fingers, and I thought that was so cool. I was just like the heroes I’d watch on my morning cartoons. I just wanted to show my dad. And I will never forget the look on his face. That sick smile before he grabbed my arm and dragged me away. He threw me into a cell and left. I wish that was the last time I saw him. I wish he had left me there. But I saw that smile, that evil, everyday.”  

“Jackie,”

“But I had James, and Marv, and they took care of me. They were my family. James raised me. He’s my dad. And Marvin is my brother. And now Anti has him. And I have to help.”

Chase holds him close, his hand going around and around underneath the fabric of Jackie’s hoodie. His head resting on Jackie’s holding him close, as if this was second nature. As if they were two puzzle pieces with a perfect fit. Chase runs his hands through Jackie’s hair, pressing his head deeper into his own chest. He watches Jackie shift until he is practically on top of him. He could feel Jackie’s chest rise and fall against his own. 

“What about your mom? Where was she?” Chase whispers. The sound almost doesn't come out.

“My mom disappeared a few months before everything happened, my dad always said she left us. She left me. But I don’t think that’s what happened.” 

“Did you think he…”

“Yeah.”

“Shit , I’m so sorry.”

“It’s…thanks, man.” 

The quiet, peacefulness lulls over the apartment like a thick cozy blanket. The two of them hold each other close. Jackie sniffs every now and again, bringing all the emotions back into his chest. Chase rubs  one thumb up and down on Jackie’s arm and wipes away tears with the other. 

“Do you want to tell me about James? He sounds great.” 

“James is great. He’s very smart, and clever, I think he’s the reason Marv has such a smart mouth.” “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Which is surprising ‘cause he doesn’t talk.” “He doesn’t talk?”

“No, he communicates with his hands. I think it’s British sign language.” 

Sign language. Okay he can learn that. Maybe learn some basic signs, letters, numbers, foods, stuff like that. He was always a quick learner, when he really truly applied himself. He could learn the basics in a few days. 

“What else?”

“...he’s my hero. He kept me and Marv alive. “

“Well then I already like him.” 

“I think you two will be good friends. He was a dad too.” Chase nearly froze at that little remark, but refused to let that little slip keep him from keeping Jackie grounded. “And he had the cutest nicknames for us. He was really good at that, making us feel safe, even when we weren’t.”

“Well I think you’re gonna repay the favor soon enough.” Chases hasn’t even met the man and he feels indebted to him. He took care of his boys, when everyone else in the world had turned their back on them. Wait, when did he start thinking of Jackie and Marvin as his boys? Chase shook that small thought away.

Soft and simple food would have to be a priority for James. He looked so emaciated in the photo the ALTR gave him that food and even water would be near impossible to keep down. And James would definitely have priority for the bed, Chase could sleep on the couch or even on the floor if he needed it. What else, what else? Maybe some new pillows and blankets, something James could call his own. 

“What do you think James will need? I’ll grab it for you while you’re…out.”

“Chase, you don’t have to do that-”

“I want to. You and Marv and soon James, you’re my-we’re-,” Chase doesn’t know what word to pick. Friends? It feels so much more than that, they protect each other, they love each other. But family? Chase has never been good at family. He ruined every family he ever had, he doesn’t want to ruin this one too. He doesn’t want this to fall apart. He loves Jackie. He loves Marvin. He doesn’t- 

“Family.” Jackie whispers. “We’re family.”

Chase feels his breath catch in his throat. “Yeah. Family.”

Neither one of them dared to move, or even breathe after that word left their lips. It was such a precious and beautiful word. Something reserved for only the most sacred of bonds. Family. Ha. Chase thought his last chance for that was buried six feet under an oak tree in the woods. But Marvin and Jackie, yeah. They were family. Chase made sure they ate and cleaned up their shit, covered them with blankets when their magic and hero sessions went just a little too late.  Jackie was always ready with a hug and kind words, and Marv was there whenever Chase needed to talk, or craved a drink. 

They were broken men who needed each other. 

But now, together, they’re slowly becoming whole again.

-------

Thanks @jellyfishdooter for helping. Couldn't have done it without you!

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Hey do you want a full fic of how Jackie got his powers? Becuase you're getting it.

Also happy comic release day!

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[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 7]

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[Want more?]

[unattainablesillygoose]

My Last Chance

Prompt(s): <👈url>"you make me happy. Really happy" "your safe with me" "I'm not going anywhere" "you know that I love you, right?" "your not alone ~ you have me"

Inspo: My Last Chance- CHPTRS

Warnings: Kinda angsty, but the eventual fluff makes up for it 😌

Summary: Peter falls helplessly in love again

•••••••••••••••••••••

|Wash over me, lead me far from my surrounding|

He'd originally met her at her best friends' wedding, ironically to Flash Thompson who'd hired him as the videographer, where she was a bridesmaid.

But once she'd seen his work, she asked if he could take pictures of her own work so she could post them to her blog. She was a beautician, who was in the process of opening her own boutique where she could do and sell custom dresses. She'd made the dress the bride and bridesmaids wore, and she was really proud of the positive feedback. And the more he worked with her on her blog, helping her work it and whatnot when she wasn't modeling her work for him, the more he noticed he enjoyed her company.

They started hanging out more often as friends, and he enjoyed her company. Before he even realized it, she had pulled him from his grief, allowing him to be happy. She was the sunlight he needed in his dark days, she just had that energy about her. Something that made it hard to be sad around her. But once he did, he'd started to pull back. Push her away.

This is for her own good. He told himself. He repeatedly told himself that it was to protect her. But here he was on his couch in a panic when she finally caught him at his apartment, and she refused to budge. She's stubborn like that.

Peter heard the small knock, and he knew it was her. He didn't need his spidey-sense to know, he probably would've known even if he couldn't spell her perfume and shampoo. Call it instinct, but he could always tell it was her.

"Peter? I know you're in there, and I know you're avoiding me." Her voice sounded through the door. He stood up, moving quietly towards the door. "Peter, please." She said, her voice cracking slightly. He winced, leaning his forehead against the door. "I'm not going anywhere." She said. "I'm not gonna just give up on being here just because you're scared, or because you have baggage, because I know that you do. Hell, I do too." She ranted a little, he heard her gulp, preparing to continue. He could hear her racing heart and the shake in her breath.

"But I refuse to let you sabotage something good in your life. You're a good thing in my life too." She said quieter. "You aren't just ruining a perfect opportunity at a new beginning for you, your ruining one for me too." She said. Going against the tiny voice in his head, the one that said 'maybe don't do that, you could hurt her too', the one he'd been listening to for far too long, he opened the door.

She looked up shocked, surprised he opened the door so easily. He was just as stubborn as she, maybe moreso. "You make me happy, Y/n, really happy." He whispered, allowing himself to be vulnerable. She saw the fear hidden behind his dark eyes, the pain. She wanted so badly to take it away, all his sorrow and woes. But the only thing she could do was assure him that she wouldn't leave, wouldn't hurt him. "Your safe with me." She whispered back. He caved, leaning down and wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her tight to him. She immediately responded in kind, securing her arms around his broad shoulders tightly. He buried his face in her neck, her hair hiding his face. "Your not alone anymore, you have me." She said softly.

He didn't verbally respond, he lifted her up and moved them into his apartment. He shut the door without shifting their position, sliding down the door to sit, her now in his lap as he held her.

He doesn't know how long they sat there, or when they moved to his couch, or when they fell asleep. But she remained snug against his chest, he knew that. Because she lay with her head in the crook of his neck, laying on his abdomen as their legs tangled together. He allowed himself to soak her in, to just hold her. Because this could be his last chance to.

|Take over me, over every rushing memory. If only for a moment. Oh, this could be my last chance|

She encompassed his mind, day and night. He saw her in everything, from the bright colors of the flowers in the community garden, to the calm he feels on a bright spring day. He was just as entranced and breathless as the first time. He missed her some days, but Y/n was a sign that she wanted him to be happy. So he was, really happy.

She was always on his mind. He memorized the smell of her, her perfume, her shampoo, her different lotions. He memorized every curve and sweet spot on her body, but still found a way to make her feel just as special as the first time. Attentive, loving, he made her feel like the only girl in the world.

|Sail along with me. Up where we know we're safe from the crashing wind.|

He never missed an opportunity to tell her she's beautiful, because in every sense of the word, she is. He loves her laugh, her smile, the way her hair falls around her shoulders. He loves the way her baby hairs frame her face when she has it tied back. He loves how she looks amazing in everything, from sweats to a fancy gala dress. How his pillows and sheets will forever smell like her. How he has his own pillow at hers, and a designated coffee cup just for him. God, he was so in love with her.

|And talk to me. Fill my lungs with the air your heart is breathing, if only for a moment.|

When Gwen died, he felt like she took his heart with her. He couldn't breathe, it was like all the air was sucked from his lungs. Like he was doomed to forever feel the burn in his chest and the pounding of pain in his ears. To forever feel like he was drowning, like he was buried with her. His guilt might as well have been his casket, willingly digging his own grave for years, wallowing in his sorrow and pain. And every time he has those dreams, or has those flashbacks, she's right there to pull him out. With her sweet words of affirmation, her kind eyes and comforting embrace.

She'd breathed life into the lungs of a dying man. She became a lifeline. When his whole world was falling apart, she was his constant, his touchstone. She was his reason. His reason to live, his hope for survival, the reason he tried to make it out of the fights he got in. The reason it became his mission to keep thugs and villains off the streets. Because he'd be damned if he lost her, like he lost Uncle Ben and Gwen.

This could be his last chance at happiness, like the ones his brothers have. One where she knew and was still safe, where she was alive and they grew old together. Where they had kids of their own and eventually grandkids. The only future he saw was with her, he didn't want anything else.

|Hold me in the grip of your arms. Far from where I know.|

Every time, he held her like it would be the last time. Always kissed her like it was the air he breathed. Always looked at her with the utmost love and adoration. Always made her aware of just how much he loves her; every morning, every parting, every night.

|Oh, to see the other side|

He made her dinner just because. He brought her flowers because they reminded him of her. Celebrated every milestone and every accomplishment. And he just absolutely adored when she returned the loving words. When she'd smile and embrace him like she hadn't seen him in years, even though they just saw each other earlier that day. When she told him she's proud of him, his heart was mush. She'd get him flowers too, because she was thinking of him and wanted to do something nice. She'd make sure he knew he was loved too, because God damnit, this boy deserved the world.

|Show me where to go|

"This could be our last chance" he'd proposed they move in together. So they'd both packed their stuff and moved to a larger apartment. Something that was theirs. That wasn't his old place or her's. Something they'd share.

When he'd shopped for a ring, he couldn't help but want it to be the last time he did so. He wanted her to be his one and only, for as long as they both lived. To grow old together. To start their own family together. To remain together, through all the hardships and all the happy times.

She said yes as soon as his knee hit the floor. He remembered saying something like "but I didn't even ask you yet!" But he'd never forget what she said: "You didn't need to, because I've already given myself to you wholeheartedly. I've already said 'yes'."

She didn't stop smiling for a week, frankly, neither did he. If their coworkers noticed something different, and they more than likely did, they didn't mention it.

~•~

Sometimes it was still hard to believe. That he'd finally found happiness again. Every time he said "my wife" he felt his heart flutter like it did when they first started dating.

And as he walked into their shared dwelling, seeing her napping on their couch (very pregnant), he had to remind himself that this was real too.

"take a picture, they last longer." She quipped sassily from the sofa, eyes still closed. He smirked, putting his phone back in his pocket. "I did." He responded playfully. She smiled, opening her eyes to look up at him. Suddenly it turned down into a pout, and her eyes fell. He knew she wasn't genuinely upset, so he found the face she made adorable. "I feel like a beached whale." She huffed. He leaned down, kissed her temple, and then went to shrug his coat off.

"Just because your pregnant-" he started, as she cut him off with "very pregnant!" But he continued as if she hadn't. "-doesn't mean you look any less radiant." He said, walking back in. "Mm, I said I feel like a beached whale." She said coyly. "Well your growing an entire human, I think it'll get tiring." He said as he kissed her head. She beamed up at him. He wrapped his arm around her waist and legs, scooting her forward a little bit. He slid behind her, letting her lean back against him and wrapped his arms snuggly around her, nuzzling his nose into her hair. She sighed. "I have a lot of stuff to do." She said, not wanting to move. He hummed in response, but made no move to let her go. "Lemme hold you for a bit." He mumbled into her hair.

She turned her head, leaning back onto his shoulder, and nudged his nose with hers. "Isn't that how we got into this situation?" She teased, smiling up at him. "Nah, we're here because my wife is insanely beautiful and I can't keep my hands off of her." He joked, playfully nibbling her neck, earning a surprised happy squeal from her. She looked back at her belly, poking it gently. He chuckled at her. "What are you doing?" He asked amused. "I'm trying to get him to move." She mused. "Her." He corrected. "Uh-unh, boy." She quipped with a shake of her head and a giggle. "Mm-mm. Girl." He said, poking her sides playfully.

Her giggled ceased when she gasped. "They moved!" She squealed, bouncing excitedly. She took his hand and moved it over the spot where she felt the kick, hoping he felt it too. Even as she neared her eighth month of pregnancy, the baby was stubborn and wouldn't move unless Y/n was alone. Like they somehow knew. Peter laughed incrediously, smiling widely like an idiot. "Finally!" She said happily, seeing his excited smile and bright eyes.

No, he didn't think he could have this. And he finally didn't feel like it would be his last chance.

[khaleesiofalicante]

First, I would like to start this off by saying if you see me here at times where you feel like I should be sleeping, just know that it’s because I took about two naps on an extremely long car ride, so I think I have gotten all the sleep I need.

Now that we have gotten that out-of-the-way, Hi, how have you been? I hope life has been treating you better than it has in previous weeks. If not, I am sending you some positive vibes.

Key takeaways from this chapter: my baby Ben deserves love

Alec needs a big hug

Magnus needs to be held and protected

The lightwood-Banes will always help and protect their family

Rafael is a light to this world and shall be protected at all costs.

We should name our children to annoy our friends and family because that is how you find the best names, or middle names.

And lastly, probably most importantly, “David really do be bringing people together with his heart and his dick,”

AH!

Thank you so much, lily. I am love you.

This week was not good in terms of sleep. But I did so much work it was insane. So, i'm kinda happy about that. Hopefully, I can get some better rest next week!

A song rec for you: chptrs - last chance