#well less comforting and more trying to wake Nero up from a nightmare--

[criimsoncloud]

dream, v comforting nero after a nightmare ((i hope this is okay kgjdfk i can pick something else if it's not))

wordless prompts || ( still accepting ! )

He felt the bed shift again - with V sharing the bed, and being an extremely light sleeper, he could feel every movement of his partner. But there was something wrong this time... he heard whispered words, and Nero felt like he was trembling. He couldn’t hear the words properly, but whatever Nero was saying, it was causing the man distress. A wash of worry flooded over V, and he twisted in the bed, facing the other man. “Nero-- Nero, wake up-- it’s just a dream, Nero--”

Thin arms wrapped around Nero from behind, loosely just in case he would react negatively to being woken up. V’s voice was roughened by sleep, yet he continued to speak, trying to rouse his partner back, hands gently gripping Nero’s shoulders.  “Nero, it’s not real-- I’m right here--”

[buns-with-a-book]

Midnight Snack

i got nothing. i literally have no explanation for this spice.

Warning! If male lactation is not your thing, do not feel pressured to read this!

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Vergil/OC Tags: @furyeclipse @synchronmurmurs @harlot-of-oblivion @queenmuzz @twinkstimulator @astral-space-dragon

Summary: Vergil thought he knew everything about demonic biology. But it seems that, with his new love Cassandra now starting to get a proper handle of her demonic powers, he can learn new things about demons.

He just wished it didn’t wake him up in the middle of the night.

Why was his body doing this? Vergil wished he had an answer as he stared at himself in the mirror, scowling at the sight of his nipples leaking a white liquid: Milk. Milk that was currently dripping down his chest and onto his pajama bottoms.

“...fuck.” He growled. He disliked using such crass language but there wasn’t really much that could encapsulate his feelings on the current situation aside from that. He closed his eyes, trying to fathom a reason why his body was doing this (and trying to move his thoughts away from the warm weight in his chest). It was midnight, too late to go ask Trish for help (not that she would be keen to answer. Just because she had the form of his late mother didn’t mean she knew anything about this part of demonic biology. His own issues with maternal figures wouldn’t help matters). He heard his tail flop on the bed and grumbled, eyes opening.

‘You.’

‘Who, me?’ His demon replied, too coy for his own good.

‘What are your intentions, doing this to me?’ He demanded. His tail swayed thoughtfully, even under the glare of his reflected self.

‘Our mate, Cassandra. She needs nourishment.’ His demon said, as if it was the most obvious thing. ‘She’s so thin for all that demonic power inside her. If she were to Trigger, she’d burst!’ That wasn’t particularly true, as she couldn’t exactly Trigger like him, Dante, and Nero, and she had lived this long without requiring this kind of milk.

‘She has Nightmare. She needs not to Trigger like I can.’ Vergil mentally pointed out.

‘...but she still needs milk.’ His demonic heart replied, a little weaker and less sure of itself. Vergil let out a frustrated groan. ‘We’ve been trying to take care of her all this time!’ He objected. His demonic heart wasn’t wrong, although he wasn’t sure if it was from a genuine desire to ‘care’ for her or an attempt to right the wrongs of Urizen. He remembered, quite vividly, how his demonic form swept in to ‘save’ Cassandra from a raging Chaos demon. Of course, the demon had already been significantly weakened by that point, enough for the familiars to finish it off for her (he assumed their new contract with Cassandra gifted them the ability to finish the job, as it were).

‘Cassandra does not need to be protected. You know that. She hates being coddled.’ Vergil growled.

‘We are her mate!’ His demon snarled back. ‘We have to protect, what kind of mate will we be if we let her fall for another demon!’

‘Then it would be her choice. She doesn’t need someone like me-’

“Vergil! I’m home!” Cassandra called. Vergil tensed up and grabbed some nearby tissues to wipe the milk off his chest. “Did you bake something? It smells really sweet here.” She said. He heard her kick off her boots before the creaking of the floor of her making her way to the bedroom. Vergil stood, trying to hide his chest from her. He couldn’t explain his leaking chest, his demonic heart’s insistence on trying to care for her (even though she could take care of herself perfectly fine, she did it when she was with Dante for all those years), so he thought it better to just hide from her.

“I-I need to go out for something.” He said, trying to hide his nervousness.

“At midnight? Nothing’s open. And even if they were, I’m pretty sure you need to get dressed proper.” Cassandra pointed out, setting her cane-sword Failnaught on a sword rack next to the Yamato. “Did something happen?”

“No, nothing happened. I need to procure more milk- I mean bread I-” She strode over to him, deceptively fast, and grabbed his shoulder to turn him around. She looked up and down his leaking chest and his vain attempts to hide it with now-damp tissues. Cassandra stared at him, green eyes scanning up and down his bare chest. Her fingers drummed against his shoulder.

“Milk, huh?” She asked, a hint of bemusement in her voice. Her other hand gently pushed his hand off his chest, gently rubbing and pinching the bud with her fingers. He shuddered at the touch. “Any idea what happened to you?”

“...my demon believes you are too thin for the demonic energy inside you. Not that you need to be cared for like a child.” He admitted. “He believes you need to be tended to…”

“Aww, that’s cute.” She resisted the urge to giggle. “But I imagine this hurts, leaving yourself like this.”

“...it is not particularly pleasant.” He admitted.

“Well, would you like me to help?” She asked. “I’d be more than willing to, if you permit-”

“Please.” He hissed, grabbing her hips and pulling her to the bed. “Please... “ He repeated more insistently, his hands grabbing at her dress, trying to remove it. Cassandra blinked in surprise at the insistence before smiling, pecking his lips.

“Anything you want, Vergil.” She murmured, guiding him to rest his back against the bedrest. “You don’t need to hide anything from me, ok?” She paused, waiting for him to acknowledge her. He nodded, letting out a soft exhale. With a smile, she pulled her dress off her and tossed it to the floor. She settled down on his left side and leaned down to take a nipple into her mouth. Vergil audibly groaned as she began to suck, digging his nails into the sheets. His tail coiled around her waist, determined to keep her there. He let out a submissive groan, his inner demon already submitting, happily so, to his mate. He knew it wasn’t going to be lost to her, her hands were already moving down to his pajama pants, pushing them off her love. She tossed them down to the floor before grasping his half-hard cock, stroking him as she sucked. Vergil’s hand carefully moved up, entangling itself in her hair.

Cassandra pulled back after a few moments, taking a breath. “...it’s sweet.”

“Is it now…?” Vergil murmured, staring at her with half-lidded eyes. He couldn’t explain why he felt so relieved at the pressure finally leaving his chest. No, he could: it was relief. Relief that his mate was finally indulging in his gift, of being cared for and loved, relief that his weak mate, who needed it more than anything, was finally becoming stronger with this milk.

“Mmhm. Sweet and warm. It’s making me a little sleepy, actually.” She glanced to him. “You too?”

“A little. But I can stay up. There is still the other.”

“On it.” She shifted, moving over to his other side. His tail relaxed, just enough to let her move, before tightening around her again. Immediately, she took the other nipple into his mouth. Vergil groaned, arching his back against her mouth, hand pushing her head into his chest. He let out a breathy moan of her name as she sucked, taking in more of her milk. With her hand on his cock, continuing to stroke, it felt like his mind was becoming mush to his demonic instincts. It was becoming too good, too much…!

“Cassandra…!” He let out a cry, clinging onto her as his cock spurt out seed, a fresh stream of milk squirting into Cassandra’s mouth. As he came down from the orgasmic high, Cassandra pulled away from his chest with a soft pant.

“Fuck...that’s...something else.” She whispered. Vergil grabbed the tissues and began to clean up her hand and himself.

“My apologies-”

“Don’t apologize. I love you, Vergil. I’d do anything to help you, no matter what your problem is.” She said, wiping her mouth. “But before we have long discussions about weird demon biology, we need to sleep. I’m tired.”

“I agree.” Vergil threw the tissues away. “I would rather we deal with this in the morning.” He pulled her down into the sheets and held her close, eyes fluttering shut. His tail still coiled tightly around her. Cassandra shifted a little to get comfortable in his arms before following suit into slumber.

[clansayeed]

Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ― Chapter 6: The Amulet

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ⥽

While struggling with nightmares of lives she’s never lived, a shadow from the past looming over her city, and the proposed idea that her life may just be a little bit too weird to handle alone, Nadya makes sure to tell herself that everything is perfect just the way it is. If only. When the self-proclaimed King of Vampires (and Maker of her sometimes-girlfriend and always-boss, can’t forget that little tidbit) Gaius Augustine returns intent on claiming Manhattan as the throne that was promised, she and her friends find themselves forced into the task of saving the world. But with millennia-old vampires and an Order of hunters on their heels as well as allies hiding catastrophic secrets at their backs… it won’t be an easy task. Too bad destiny didn’t exactly ask for her input.

Bound by Destiny II and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Destiny II tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

The hunt is on for the Amulet of Nero. But in the wake of discovering Gaius has been freed, Kamilah is forced to voice her fears while Adrian reveals a few secrets of his own. Maricruz kinda-sorta saves the day.

WARNING: this chapter contains brief explicit sexual content

[READ IT ON AO3]

“Our betrayal of Gaius was more than an uprising; more than a simple desire to shift the balances of power. It took an extraordinary amount of conviction and the strength to resist everything that made us who we are.

“A vampire’s Maker is their lodestone, and together they are symbiotic in nature. We loved him — I see no point in denying it now that the ties that bind have been severed, and for so long. We loved him, so much that the year following our betrayal very nearly killed us in our unwanted grief.

“If you know of the feeling I speak, then I am truly sorry for your suffering. If you do not — consider yourself lucky in that you will only need to die the once. That’s what it felt like; dying. But for the sake of this I ask that you remember your moment of greatest and most profound grief. And multiply it by the number of stars in the sky.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you to understand me when I tell you that our devotion to Gaius was infinitesimal compared to how he felt about his Maker; the First Vampire — Rheya.”

Once Nadya managed to reclaim the memory that Jameson had stolen (she still doesn’t know how, please don’t ask her — eventually they’re going to ask her and what’s a profound way to say ‘IDK’ worthy of the title Bloodkeeper) it all started to come back to her in cinema-quality high definition.

But there are still parts of her dinner party from hell that feel more like parts of a dream than something that really happened. Isseya’s makeover montage was one, their startling attention to her dietary needs and wants was most certainly another.

Until she’s left with only one thing that still feels… not-quite. Not-quite real, not-quite imagined. Different than the memories but no… no it happened. Didn’t it?

“And I know that everything you do—all the killing, Turning, plotting and kingdoms and thrones… it’s all for her. Your Maker… Rheya.”

Even now, long after Adrian and Lily and Jax have gone from the penthouse with tales of goddesses and betrayals swirling around in their heads, Nadya feels… she feels like she correctly guessed an answer on a multiple choice test. Except instead of four choices there’s about a billion and the one she picked wasn’t even one of the options.

There’s a soft knock on the door but Kamilah doesn’t wait for permission to enter. It’s her place, after all. There’s something strangely comforting about the act; the normalcy of it. Like none of this has happened and they’re still a year backwards trying to understand the oddities of one another.

That was some real prime-time sitcom material right there.

But if things were normal Kamilah wouldn’t be hovering in the doorway with an uncharacteristic uncertainty.

“What’s up,” Nadya sits upright so fast her head goes a bit fuzzy but immediate panic is a valid reaction in these troubled times, “is everything okay? Oh god — is he here?”

The woman quirks a perfect brow before realizing the terrifying evil villain mastermind of which she speaks. “No, Nadya. And if he were… I would not let him take you.”

In a world of unbelievable things, Nadya has no trouble believing Kamilah means that.

And she feels Kamilah’s eyes on her for a long moment before they speak again.

“Why are you in here?”

That’s a good question. Especially since habit started dragging her tired feet to Kamilah’s bedroom after Lily’s sixth one-last-hug. No, Nadya had changed her course somewhere in the middle of the hall and… now she’s here.

“I guess… I wanted to give you some space.”

Kamilah manages to make even incredulity look graceful. “What do you possibly mean by that?”

Stop asking questions I don’t have answers to. “Well… you’re still mad at me.”

“I believe I’m due a fair bit more credit than that.”

“That wasn’t a question, Kamilah.” Not when she can feel it. Not when it stings against her skin like ice.

Kamilah tilts her head to the side slightly. “I did not assume it was. But I would like to think my feelings have more depth and complexity than something as simple as ‘anger,’ especially when it comes to you.”

And Nadya’s pretty sure there’s an unspoken confession there; the closest they’ve ever come to that kind of thing. It makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand alert — a different kind of fear.

Fear at having something. And fear of losing it.

“I can be frustrated at your recklessness and still desire your company,” she continues; reaches out a hand that Nadya doesn’t even hesitate to take. Not now, not ever probably.

With no resistance at all Kamilah leads Nadya to the other end of the penthouse; to the bedroom that’s still Kamilah’s in name but, not unlike every other space up here, Nadya has come to think of as hers, too. Theirs, even.

What a doozy of a thought.

She’s led across the bedroom to the closet; each step Kamilah takes is sure and certain and Nadya trusts her for it. Trusts her when familiar fingers run over her skin like silk and start to undress her.

Her shirt is tugged over her head. At her back Nadya feels Kamilah’s lips press like a whisper against her bare shoulder. “May I admit a terrible secret to you, Nadya?”

She wants to turn, to take every sharp edge of the woman in both palms and smooth them out until neither of them are hurting.

“You can tell me anything. You know that.”

Another kiss to her throat, to her cheek, to her temple.

“Strange of you to say it aloud… stranger still that I cannot find myself in disagreement.”

“Kamilah…”

And she realizes shortly after why the vampire has them pressed together but keeps herself almost dutifully out of Nadya’s sight. Really all she had to do was take off Nadya’s glasses, but the tension is too thick even for her particular brand of humor to cut through.

“I was afraid.”

It’s an admission that rocks Nadya to her core — and definitely makes the arms wrapped slender around her waist to undo the button of her jeans a tad less sexy.

What is she supposed to say to that?

Thankfully Kamilah doesn’t give her the chance to actually give it a thought. Or worse — say the wrong thing on impulse. “And fear… fear is not a complex emotion; not for me. You cannot find a depth in something you have not felt in… in many years.”

Her hands rest a chilly weight on Nadya’s hips. She covers them with her own slowly, gently — then all at once.

“You were afraid when Adrian was in danger.”

Like she’s trying to rationalize the most irrational emotion there is.

“I was, yes,” — there’s a quick inhale in Nadya’s ear — “but I think we both know that was a different kind of fear.”

Do we? “O—Oh.”

Nadya turns in the woman’s arms — she gives Kamilah ample time to force her back but she just doesn’t. Reminds Nadya of the statue of the woman who looked like Kamilah back on the roof over their very heads months ago.

She cups Kamilah’s cheek and feels the warmth leeched from her body. Good, she thinks, take that and more — take everything I can offer.

“I…” —was scared too, terrified, tragically terrified— “I kept hoping you’d… you’d come for me.”

“Nothing of this earth would have stopped me.”

“But —”

“But he is not of this earth. Not in a way that would have allowed me to keep you safe.”

Nadya knows that — really she does. She’s not bitter or mad or anything like it. It’s just that if she doesn’t get it out she might actually explode from how it makes her feel.

“I will not fail you again.”

“You didn’t fail me, Kamilah.”

“It is a miracle that you were returned. That you were not…”

And someone get out a camera, tape recorder, something; because words like these don’t come from a person with Nadya’s levels of anxiety often—

“But I was. Don’t think about what didn’t happen. I’m here, Kamilah. I’m right here.”

I’m right here. I’ve got you.

Three words — three words more. Words that have followed them through practically everything and that means more than either of them could express. Nadya’s a small person with a big heart and Kamilah… she’s kept her own heart locked away for so long sometimes Nadya worries she thinks she’s lost the key.

She hasn’t. God, she hasn’t.

“I’m right here,” she repeats; feels her voice catch and cling to the words like barbed wire, “I’m right here, okay?”

Hands tighten on her hips and Nadya closes her eyes before the dizziness overtakes her. The world tugged out from under her feet and the firm resistance of Kamilah’s mattress on her back and the solid form of the woman on top of her; knees on either side of her pinning her down, prone; exposed.

Vulnerable in a way she is always vulnerable to Kamilah. In a way that completely brushes aside her mortality and digs deeper into her until she’s Nadya; no last name, no history, no life outside of right here right now.

Kamilah takes her lips; takes her words, her very breath. She takes everything Nadya is willing to give.

And, as seconds tick by like hours — like eternities — as Kamilah tugs away layers and inhibitions and defies the definition of impossible to expose her all the more, she takes not only everything but maybe just a little bit more.

“Kam—il—”

She gasps, mouth slack and syllables far beyond her now. Can’t focus on anything more than the timeless struggle between not wanting to hurt Kamilah and not wanting to let go of the dark brown waves she knots in her fingers with every deft movement of her skilled tongue.

“I rather enjoy you this way,” Kamilah had said; exactly five minutes and twenty-two seconds after the first time and with every word curled in her smirking lips shiny with slick, “the woman never without something to say rendered speechless.”

And Nadya had denied that (it had taken her… a while to muster the energy to do so, but she did); insisted she didn’t always have something to say. Which kind of proved Kamilah’s point.

So this time around, when she feels the long swipe of Kamilah’s tongue; feels her lips close around her clit hungry and indulgent, Nadya promises not to deny it one single bit.

Nadya returns from the lunch cart downstairs with their sandwich boxes in hand. “Trade?”

“Trade,” replies Adrian. He barely looks up from his report while she switches their folders and leaves his turkey-no-mustard on top.

She settles back in on his office couch — heels toed off and stocking-clad feet tucked under her skirt. In order to make sure she doesn’t associate the spot permanently with bad memories Nadya’s all but forced herself into his space. All she needs is her phone charger close at hand and it’ll be her own little nest.

Thankfully, Adrian doesn’t mind.

“Hey,” she thumbs through the pages held together with a well-worn clip, “I’m missing one.”

“Mmm.”

“Adrian.”

“Yes, thank you.”

If they were any ordinary secretary and boss, it isn’t unreasonable to assume she would get fired for hurling her pink highlighter at his head with all her might. But they aren’t ordinary, Adrian isn’t ordinary — he catches it without so much as a twitching muscle but it’s enough to jostle him from his stupor.

He looks down at the marker as if he has no idea where it came from.

“Oh, Nadya,” he blinks in surprise, “when did you get back?”

“Just a second ago. I’m missing a page.”

“Of what?”

She holds up the folder with a duh sort of look on her face; Adrian quickly ruffles around the sea of papers in front of him before he plucks the right sheet out and delivers it in apology.

Nadya takes it because there’s no way she’s wasting time. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t grab his arm before he can leave.

“You okay?”

He chuckles dryly. “I should be asking you that.”

“I’m not the one acting like a zombie.”

The look Adrian gives her is an admonishing one but Nadya isn’t exactly taking it back. “My apologies.” He’s forgiven, of course, but she shoos him back to his desk anyway.

Nadya slides the printed photocopy in with the rest and starts at the page he had left off on… two paragraphs down on page one. Awesome.

Okay, maybe she’s allowed a teeny little break to eat half of her sandwich.

But the silent chewing is just too uncomfortable.

“Wanna talk about what’s on your mind?” Nadya asks; because there’s no harm in trying even if she already knows the answer.

And he doesn’t disappoint. “No, thank you.”

It’s an unintended positive that Adrian jumps back to work to avoid being asked to talk for a second time. He takes the R&D file out from under his sandwich with renewed interest — he even appropriates her highlighter for added effect.

Nadya has stopped lying to herself. Everything is not okay, not by a long shot. There’s an evil madman who once called himself King of the Vampires running around New York (at the least, and she really doesn’t want to think about where else he could have gotten to by now) — there is absolutely no universe in which that is okay.

They just have to hope they find this Amulet of Nero before he does. Not that karma is making it easy on them. Things would go a lot faster if Nadya could remember the specific vampire-memory Jameson had taken from her but no amount of Kamilah-led meditation, Adrian-supervised brain scans, or Lily-brewed “magic tea” has done the trick so far… so she’s kind of given up on that front.

“Here’s something,” she says what feels like five hours later — a quick look at the clock is (for the first time) surprisingly accurate at four and a half, “the article says here there was an issue in 1875 where the British Museum, who claimed to have the Amulet on display, was actually showing a forgery.

“Apparently they had the real deal but the day before the exhibit was set to open to the public it was stolen. They covered it up to protect the museum’s reputation.”

It’s the first real smile Nadya’s seen from Adrian all week. “That’s really good, Nadya. Add it to the timeline?”

“All over it.” She scribbles ‘London, 1875’ onto a sticky note and hops up and over to the far office wall to add it to the rest of their research. All the way from ‘Rome, 64 AD’ to the newest addition of London.

She’d be able to have a much more comprehensive collection of information and formulated theories if Adrian let her bring up one of the giant display whiteboards from the conference rooms downstairs, but she just has to make due with what she’s got.

Nadya takes a step back to take their combined work in fully. Somehow the high of finding a clue or a decent lead never really lasts. Somehow she’s always reminded of the fact that Gaius is probably ten steps ahead and counting.

“Hey, Adrian?”

He looks up from their other project — the actual work that has to be done at their actual place of business — because he’s a quick study. That or he really doesn’t want to be catching highlighters all night.

Nadya looks back to him and can’t help the worry she lets slip through the cracks.

“Do you think the Amulet really has the blood of the First Vampire inside of it?”

Because she hadn’t, not at first. But Kamilah isn’t the kind of person to make jokes on a good day and doubtful she’d start now. Gaius’ most treasured possession, hidden away so well even the owner himself couldn’t find it.

Not the Amulet itself but what it held. A giant, gaudy antique locket — and inside; a vial of blood that Gaius had told Kamilah belonged to his Maker; the First Vampire. Something he had intended to keep with the hopes of one day finding a way to resurrect her, Kamilah had said.

“Could that be such a bad thing?” Jax had asked. “Maybe she’d put him in his place.”

Kamilah didn’t agree though. “Doubtful — for two thousand years I followed Gaius’ every move and enacted his every plan. Always, he said, in Rheya’s name. If his every atrocity was done on her behalf I don’t think anything good could come of bringing her unto this world again.”

Adrian leans back in his chair and it creaks with the effort. “Honestly… I don’t know. I wish I could give you a more concrete answer, but…”

“No, no I—I know.”

“Regardless of what you or I believe, though, Gaius knows there’s something powerful inside of it. Something worth… worth putting you through months of agony for.”

Nadya has a feeling there’s more to what he wants to say but, like every time Adrian even tries to start talking about his Maker or what Jameson had done to her, he gets lost in his thoughts and it goes unspoken.

And, like every time, the inevitable apologies are the next thing he says instead.

“I can’t begin to tell you how sorry —”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” interrupts Nadya; a little more clipped than she’d like, “how many times do I have to tell you?”

But she may as well be talking to a brick wall with ‘ADRIAN’ written on it in chalk.

“I do though, don’t you get it?”

“Obviously I don’t.”

“It was my decision to punish Gaius instead of kill him. Lester, Priya, hell even Vega wanted him killed for real. They thought even the smallest chance of him escaping could spell the end of us all. If I had chosen not to try and teach him a lesson…”

Nadya can’t really believe what she’s hearing. “You showed him mercy, Adrian.”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, “I showed mercy to a merciless tyrant.”

“You showed that you were the better man.”

“I showed weakness.”

“No,” nope, no way she’s doing this nu-uh, “being merciful is not weakness. Who the heck am I even talking to right now?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well it can’t be Adrian Raines! It sure doesn’t sound like him.” In fact, it sounds like…

Nadya refuses to let her thoughts get that dark, though.

“This isn’t a matter of opinion.” Adrian stands — suddenly he can’t look Nadya in the eye so he goes to the next best distraction. Even with his hands in his pockets though Nadya can see in his reflection of the window glass that they’re balled up into fists. His teeth are grit and she prays—actually prays—that the red she sees in his eyes is just some jet lights passing by.

“If I had been strong enough to kill Gaius the first time, if I had understood that he was beyond lessons and punishment, none of this would be happening. You would be able to come into your Bloodkeeper powers as you needed to — without the pain of being forced into it. You wouldn’t have been kidnapped. Hell—even Vega wouldn’t have had a reason to accuse me of trying to grab for his power. And Lily wouldn’t have —”

He cuts himself off but the damage is done.

“Lily?”

Adrian only looks guiltier when he turns away from the window like the bookcase holds all the answers to life and the universe. Anything so Nadya doesn’t have to see his face. But she wants to. Now more than ever.

“Finish what you were going to say, Adrian,” she has no idea how that sentence even ends but there’s an anger bubbling up inside her, unbidden; unrestrained, “‘Lily wouldn’t have’ what?”

All the frustration and tension leaves Adrian in an exhale; shoulders slumped and he lets his head hang with the weight of the world. He looks more like a man heading to a guillotine. Maybe whatever he has to say is just as awful.

He looks at Nadya with grief, pity — something close. “I was going to tell you.”

Adrian steps forward. Nadya steps back.

“Tell me what?”

“I only put the pieces together a few days ago — after we learned Gaius was still alive.”

“I asked about Lily, not Gaius.” Because those two names shouldn’t be in the same sentence. Not without words like ‘kicked’ and ‘butt’ between them and all of it in Lily’s favor.

“Nadya…”

“Oh my god — will you just stop stalling?!”

“I’m not —” he pinches the bridge of his nose, “— I thought I was being paranoid at the time. It didn’t add up, we didn’t know Jameson was working with him, Gaius was still locked in the sarcophagus; so I brushed it all aside.”

Nadya presses herself against the wall. A couple of the notes come loose and flutter to the carpet at her shoeless feet. She’s demanded him to finish talking but he hadn’t and now she wants him to shut up — she’ll do anything for him to shut up.

Because words aren’t just words anymore. Stories, thoughts, recollections — they’re all memories when it comes to them; when it comes to her. And it’s coming to her and Nadya doesn’t want to know, doesn’t want to see.

“We know now he’s been playing the long game,” Adrian continues — and Nadya hates him for it, “maybe longer than even we know. And when you put it together it… it makes sense.”

“No—no it doesn’t,” it, like what happened to Lily was as common as anything, “it doesn’t, Adrian. Because Lily was attacked by Vega, or one of Vega’s people. That’s what we decided, remember? Because it made sense. Because he wanted to use me to get to you; to have another case against you for Turning someone without permission. That’s what we all agreed had happened.”

But they still didn’t know; not with any certainty. And when everything had finally cooled off and one half of the Council wasn’t actively trying to murder the other, Adrian and Kamilah offered to help find the real culprit. Lily had said no.

It happened, it’s done — she’s moving on because nothing would change whether she knew or didn’t.

It happened Adrian, Nadya screams in her mind, with her eyes, it’s done, remember? It’s done!

If only he was a mind reader.

“Turning can be a trauma. But Lily — she didn’t remember anything. It was too convenient. It was as though…”

“… the memory had been taken from her.”

“Yes. Just like he took the memory of the Amulet from you.”

I don’t want to see this. Please don’t make me see this. And she hates them — hates them all. She hates Adrian for keeping this from her. She hates Jameson for doing this to her. She hates Gaius for being the wizard behind the curtain.

Please don’t make me see this.

The memory may have been taken from Lily but it’s not Lily she’s remembering. It’s not Lily that Nadya sees when her head turns and gazes at her reflection in the mirror on their apartment wall. It’s Jameson who raises Nadya’s hand and pushes up his spectacles and stalks deeper inside to Lily digging around in the medicine cabinet for… for something.

Jameson who smiles his unnervingly calm smile and descends his fangs. Jameson who attacks her neck savage and monstrous and drags her body to the living room for Nadya—the Nadya from before, the one who isn’t scarred by the sight of this just yet—to discover. Who puts two fingers on Lily’s sweating temples as she bleeds out gasping and desperate below him and takes the memory of it all away.

“Ohmygod—”

A gut-wrenching sob rips itself from Nadya’s throat; brings her back into her own body and out of the memory of her best friend being murdered because of her. Not a guess, not a decision based on the most logical answers — but a real, hard truth she has no choice but to face.

Lily was killed because Gaius willed it. Because Jameson never does anything without Gaius willing it. And he had sat there beside them in the Council Chamber, looked at Lily and he’d known.

Somewhere in the middle of all of these terrible facts Nadya has fallen to her knees. Hell if she remembers when. But the office carpet burns and Adrian’s suit probably isn’t made for this kind of position but he’s there, he’s holding her close keeping Nadya’s hands pinned at her sides resting his chin at the crown of her head while she sobs until there’s no air left in her lungs to manage it.

“H-How dd-id… how…”

“Sssh,” Adrian tries to calm her, “I knew it couldn’t have been one of the Clanless because of her girlfriend. There was… a trace of a scent, but I couldn’t follow up. I couldn’t risk wasting the little time she had. It was gone, replaced by Vega and Kamilah by the time I was able to get back there to check.

“That’s why I believed it was him, Nadya. But it just seemed so… you don’t know how terrible it was to watch you grieve like that. All the pain and suffering you went through, the uncertainty of whether or not Lily would survive the Turning… it was evil.

“It was something Gaius would have done. A way to torture you. Only I didn’t realize he used Jameson to do it.”

He doesn’t need to explain it now — Nadya knows; she’s seen. And she can’t even hold herself up from the pain of it but when she can stand again…

“I’m gonna kill him.”

Adrian tenses around her. “What? No, Nadya, you’re not.”

“Yes—yes I am.” She pulls away to look him in the eyes. “I’m gonna kill Jameson. For attacking Lily and leaving her to die, and for being the reason I had to… that I just…”

“I’m sorry, I am. But you know none of us will let you do something so stupid.”

“Just you wait,” she sniffles; tries to maintain the integrity of her makeup as much as possible while wiping her eyes but that’s pretty much a lost cause, “no one’s seen how stupid I can get.”

“This isn’t you. You’re not like this.”

“Tell that to the Baron’s henchman I killed.” Nadya doesn’t even know why she brings it up; didn’t even know it was something she still thought about. But is she wrong?

“In self defense; in my defense.”

“Yeah… maybe.”

He’s smart and doesn’t try to stop her when Nadya pulls away. She gathers the fallen notes and her composure with them before setting about putting them back in their right order.

Adrian stands and dusts off the knees of his suit. “Nadya…?” he asks, hesitant, but she shrugs off the hand he puts on her shoulder.

Adrian isn’t gonna let this go though, is he? Still standing at her back. Like he wasn’t trying to distance himself before.

Fine. Nadya sniffles; tries to cut the thick wetness from her voice. “How long were you going to keep it a secret? If not from me, then from Lil’?”

“Until I could find some sort of proof — or make him confess.”

“No. No more secrets. Not from me or from anyone; even you.”

Adrian nods. Yeah, he’d better. “Do you want to go now?”

“We need to find the Amulet.” Find the Amulet, find Gaius. Find Gaius, find Jameson. “Let’s just… get back to work.”

He watches and waits while Nadya settles back into her little nook on his couch. The sight is a relief, and only when she’s back with a cap in her mouth and a folder in hand does he head back to his desk.

“Yeah, yeah. Yup. Mmmhm. Thanks Am’, you’re a godsend. Oh — you know what I mean!”

The day Nadya learned that Maricruz kept a flip phone for her burner because she was really into the satisfying way you could snap the phone shut was the day a lot of things the former smuggler does started to make sense.

Against the very vocal protests of the springs Maricruz hops up on the couch and swings a leg over Lily’s head to sit perched on the back of it higher than the rest of them. She pulls Lily back close and starts tap-tapping her head like a drum in her victory. Times like this — Nadya can’t help but watch them with a little smile. Lily deserves it; that silliness, that fun in her life. Just as much as she deserves someone who can help her navigate the pitfalls of vampirism with some experience under their belt.

“Hey, hon?” Lily asks without looking up from her laptop screen.

“Hmm, mi amor?”

“Why are you playing my head like a bongo?”

“Because your head is a bongo.”

Nadya rolls her eyes with a little laugh. “Because that makes sense.”

Maricruz shrugs and doesn’t let them deter her playing.

“Okay, well are my bongos suddenly justified if I say I know where and when this dumbass Amulet was last seen?”

Lily and Nadya lock eyes from across the apartment. In a beat Nadya leaps into her armchair and Lily snaps her head around so fast there’s a few cracks in her neck. Nadya’s learned to stop questioning some weird vampire things. Most of them to do with the gag-inducing adorableness of the pair.

Lily makes a drum set of her own with her girlfriend’s knees. “Don’t keep us in suspense babe!”

“Yeah babe,” Nadya chimes in with a laugh, “plus I don’t think my little human heart can take any more suspense for the week.”

“Langdon Kavinsky.”

Crickets. No, really — the landlord refuses to do anything about the crickets.

“Gesundheit?” is about all Nadya’s got. Thankfully Lily already has her laptop dragged forward and is hammering away at the keys.

Maricruz rolls her eyes. “Funny. No, Langdon Kavinsky is the name my contact finally dug up; the name of the dick who definitely was one of the last guys to own the Amulet of Zero.”

“Nero.”

“I know what I said.”

Lily turns her screen so Nadya can see her search. “So looks like Kavinsky’s some rich white dude out in the Southwest. Says here he’s famous in certain auction circles for the lengths he’ll go to own the rarest and spookiest stuff.”

Taking in the mustache, the bolo tie, and the fact his hair looks like it was smoothed back with the grease from his smile? Nadya has no trouble imagining this. “I never trusted a man in a cowboy hat. Still don’t.”

Lily knocks Maricruz’s knee with her shoulder. “Did you get a date?”

“Ambrose isn’t exactly my type, chica.”

“I meant a date of sale and you know it. If I go blindly digging into the financial records of a guy with that many commas in his account I might not come out alive.”

Nadya and Maricruz stare at her. Lily just shrugs. “I’m an acquired humor.”

“All I got was two years ago, sorry.”

“It’s better than nothing.” Lily’s glasses almost fall off as she tilts her head all the way back to give the woman an upside-down smile. “But it means I gotta go get a few safety measures. Be right back.”

She’s gone in a flash, and Nadya doesn’t need vampire hearing to catch the sounds of rummaging computer parts among the general collected stash of miscellany she calls a bedroom.

Though… it’s not often Nadya and Maricruz are left alone together without the Lily-shaped buffer between them. Not that they don’t get along — Nadya just really doesn’t like thinking of the last time they were alone together. The Shrike and the Baron. The Cellar. Walking into this very room and seeing Lily—

“So, Lily told me.”

Nadya’s glad to be taken out of those particular thoughts… but the alternative isn’t exactly sunshine and rainbows either.

She looks over to Maricruz who taps her boot on the arm of the couch in an unheard tune. She’s prone to movement like that a lot. Never without a beat to groove to, Lily calls it.

Judging by the level look in the vampire’s brown eyes, Nadya doesn’t have to guess. It makes sense Lily would share the big mystery behind her immortal curtain.

“Oh,” she says; because… what else is she supposed to say?

Maricruz nods; clicks her tongue for a long moment and the beat of her boot definitely falters somewhere in the middle.

“Is there something you… wanted to know?”

“Well since you bring it up, yeah.” She pounces on the opportunity; startles Nadya just a tad but when she recovers it dawns on her that she’s never seen Maricruz this antsy.

Not since that night.

“I’m not gonna fucking turn her,” hours earlier she’d seen the woman impale a henchman twice her size on a pool cue like it was nothing but Nadya hadn’t been scared of her until that moment, “and if you ask again I’m out.”

So Nadya hadn’t asked — she’d risked everything, made Adrian risk everything. But Maricruz had stayed. That was the one thing that never really made sense.

“Lily kinda gave me the ‘too long; didn’t read’ version of your whole… deal. The Blooddreamer thing.”

“Bloodkeeper,” Nadya corrects, not that it matters.

“Right, yeah, that. I’m sorry you had to see it.”

Which has her swallowing on her heart dry in her throat. “Me too.”

“So then does that mean you can, like, see everything about us? Through our whole lives up to now?”

It’s not a question asked lightly. Maricruz is uncertain and probably for good reason. Nadya is uncertain, too. She thinks to the journal she has hidden at the bottom of her bag (the first thing she’d checked for after realizing she was no longer under Gaius’ boot; honestly she was surprised it was still there) and wishes not for the first time that she could give someone—anyone—the ‘definite’ answer they’re looking for.

“I don’t know. Not — not before anyone was Turned, I think.”

“Can you pick whose memories you see, though?”

“No.”

“But Lily —”

And Nadya shuts that down real fast; “If I could have picked whether or not to see my best friend’s murder I think I would have opted out.”

Immediately Maricruz turns away — she knows she’s crossed a boundary. “No — no of course.”

“Why don’t you just ask me what you want to ask me, Mari?”

Lily still breathes because she’s spent more time alive doing it than not. Adrian and Kamilah still breathe because they have lives and stakes in the human world; and because Adrian enjoys it on some level.

But Maricruz is always so still. Like the day she realized she no longer needed to hold her breath was a relief she never knew she needed.

Nadya watches, silent except for her breathing (which she actually needs to do) and swears its just the lights from the apartment building across the street that make it look like Maricruz goes through a century of anguish in the seconds that pass.

Even though she knows better by now.

“She makes me a better person, you know?” The vampire finally says; and Nadya does know — she really does. “When we met — when she still thought I was human — I think that was the first time I’d really laughed in years. Hell—Matsuo was so confused when I showed up back at the Den that morning. I think he was a little scared to be honest.”

Nadya can imagine it; imagine but not remember it for herself thank god, and it makes her smile. “I bet.”

“There’s just this—this energy Lily has. You see it, you feel it too. More than optimism, its…”

“Lilyism?”

A very-much made up word that has them both in soft laughter. “Yeah,” Maricruz agrees, “‘Lilyism.’ I like that.

“When you’re new to all this, when your Turning is violent and scary, it’s so easy to go Feral. To lose all that spark you had in life. And I’ve been around since the Clans started. Raines — he was the most trustworthy of the lot but that wasn’t saying much in my book. He played by the rules but he was the only one doing it. If the Council fucked Lily over…”

She doesn’t have to say it. Nadya knows. Thankfully — thanks to Maricruz herself, actually — that’s not something she ever felt like she needed to worry about.

“You wanted to make sure she didn’t lose all the things that made her Lily.”

“Yeah. She made me a better person in just that short while we knew each other. Returning the favor was the least I could do.”

There’s a thunk from the direction of the bedrooms and they both stop; silent. Nadya knows its irrational, it’s not like they’re discussing something secret. But it’s a private moment — for the both of them.

And it won’t last much longer. “Look, Nadya,” she clenches her fists on top of her jeans frayed and worn at the knees, “what I’m tryin’ to say is this; if the time ever comes and you end up seeing the me I was before I met Lily, I just gotta ask you not to judge me for it. I’m not that woman anymore. I’ve done some stuff I’m not proud of and I’ll tell Lily eventually. I will. But…”

“But you deserve the chance to tell her in your own time and in your own way.”

“Yeah. That’s it exactly.”

They meet eyes across the suddenly vast apartment living room. Whatever Maricruz was expecting has her hesitant — but Nadya couldn’t be more understanding.

Hesitancy melts into visible relief. And Maricruz definitely would have thanked Nadya; she knows that much at least. If it wasn’t for the fact that the spell of their moment is broken by Lily bounding in at a surprisingly human speed and with arms filled with computer parts; the very least of which looks like it includes a tower, two monitors, and what looks like a DJ’s digital board.

“Cariña,” and even Maricruz looks intimidated by the amount of it all, “this is ‘a few?’”

Lily doesn’t even bother with fake remorse. They both know her better than that — and she knows it. “Better safe than sorry?”

It’s so Lily; a Lilyism by textbook definition. Nadya and Maricruz exchange looks over her technological dragon’s hoard and share that exact thought at the exact same time — and burst into laughter.

[katzenkrieg]

Headcanon trivia on Cam’s muteness and the events of Shadowbringers/5.3

Cam’s been mute since the Calamity due to aetheric/physical injury inflicted by the same Garlean PoW-marking device that gave him his facial tattoos. Cam’s version of the Echo helps him be understood by others--generally people are able to get a sense of what his signing means, even if they know nothing about sign language. 

Events near the end of Shadowbringers brought some big changes to his relationship to his muteness/speaking, so I wrote up some of that lore.

Spoilers for ShB and 5.3, of course!

Emet-Selch had no idea what Cam was doing when Cam first tried talking to him--sign language isn’t a concept Emet-Selch ever bothered to realize anyone would have a need for. Once he realized what Cam was up to, he could understand Cam’s signing perfectly well, but he still felt personally affronted by the fact Cam was mute. Whenever Azem chose to be quiet, it meant he was up to something; Emet-Selch never got past feeling like Cam’s muteness was Azem intentionally trolling Emet-Selch by acting like he was up to something *all the time.* 

During his time following the Scions around the First, Emet-Selch made a point of making sudden appearances usually close to and behind Cam, intending to make him jump, and goading Cam in conversation--and it irritated him every time that no matter what he did or said, whether startling or angering Cam, the Hyur just wouldn’t speak. Of course, Emet-Selch had enough power as an Ascian to know that Cam’s muteness was from a genuine physical/aetheric injury, but that didn’t stop him taking it personally. 

Emet-Selch was very satisfied to see that one of the immediate effects of Cam’s transformation into a Lightwarden in all but form (and control) was the replacement of his damaged voice box by sin eater mutation; he was less satisfied to discover that Cam *still* chose not to speak and still resisted being goaded into it, even when Cam arrived in the Tempest with his ability to maintain control over himself obviously nearly exhausted. Emet-Selch would have gotten sadistic pleasure out of seeing Cam use his new voice around his friends--a voice that sounded much more like Innocence’s than anything human’s--disturbingly resonant, seeming like it came from all directions and none at once, and almost metallic in its clarity and precision.

Yelling G’raha Tia’s name as G’raha tried to channel the Light from Cam and sacrifice himself to save him was the first time Cam spoke in years and also the first time he spoke using his new sin eater voice. His new voice was very rough at the time--the mutation had only just manifested and hadn’t fully formed--but it was still disturbing. And just being suddenly *able* to speak was incredibly disturbing to Cam, even without yet knowing it was the first sign of a permanent sin eater change to his body. He tried speaking again right after waking up in the Crystarium with Ardbert watching him, and it both hurt (due to the incompleteness of the growth) and sounded just as inhuman as it had the first time he used it. Even more than seeing the Light in the sky and having his vision washed by Light, the sound of his voice confirmed for Cam that he’d become a Lightwarden.

The Scions never told Cam, but he did talk in his sleep during their time in the Tempest--the way someone having really bad nightmares they can’t wake up from does. Hearing him both in such obvious distress and sounding so alien hurt them all.

When Cam got back from the First and saw Cid for the first time in a year, he immediately grabbed Cid in a massive desperate hug and proposed at the same time. Unfortunately, he was carried enough away in the moment that he proposed *out loud,* using his new voice, which resulted in Cid going WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT and shoving Cam away to look for whatever made that incredibly disturbing sound and was probably about to attack them. Cam almost took off right then from shame and the lingering sense that he hadn’t fully escaped becoming a Lightwarden permanently, but Cid recovered quickly enough to realize the voice had been Cam’s, to register what Cam had actually *said,* and to *very quickly* accept to keep Cam from running away. (And also because he genuinely wanted to, but mostly, in the moment, to keep Cam from sprinting off into the hills looking like someone had just stabbed him in the chest.) 

If Emet-Selch had still been around, he would have been pretty pissed to realize that apparently all you had to do to get Cam to speak was be someone he loved and wasn’t sure he’d ever see again.

After arriving back in the First, Cam was extremely self-conscious about the sin eater mutation around (and in) his throat that had replaced his original voice box/vocal cords. Until Cid managed to adapt a caster’s torque Cam had recovered years ago from one of the Coils of Bahamut to aetherically modify Cam’s voice to sound human--and to connect to and fit over the sin eater mutation (partially cybernetically--Cam can remove the torque, but it hurts to do so, since some elements of it do embed themselves in the mutation tissue when it’s worn), Cam went around wearing clothes and armor with high collars, like someone trying to hide hickeys. Which Nero, predictably, asked if he was trying to do.

The primary reason Cam *did* occasionally speak without thinking about it after returning from the First was his Rejoining with Ardbert. Ardbert had no history of muteness and no reason to ever hesitate to use his own voice; since that life experience is now also Cam’s, Cam does now speak if he’s startled, emotional, or just decides it’s called for. He still prefers to sign around anyone he’s not close to, both out of habit and the feeling that people are often more forthcoming with him if he *doesn’t* speak out loud. (They’re also less apt to ask him to make speeches.) 

Before Cid adapted the Allagan torque to modify Cam’s voice, this new tendency to speak out loud caused both Cam and anyone around him a lot of discomfort, since his new Lightwarden voice was so alien. (Cam avoided going to see his family until he was able to sound normal; since he had no idea that Cid was working on the torque, he’d essentially resigned himself to never seeing his family in person again because he didn’t want to risk accidentally speaking around them.) 

Cam continued to have nightmares that he didn’t remember after returning from the First (and continues to have them occasionally up to the present day). Cid, like the Scions in the Tempest, never told Cam that he talked in his sleep, but Cid did spend a lot of time awake unable to sleep because of Cam’s voice until he was able to perfect the voice-modification torque.

After defeating Elidibus and aiding the Scions’ full return to the Source, Cam is much more comfortable speaking and can be almost talkative if he’s around people he knows well.

[zenithlux]

Cadence - CH 17

In which Vergil learns what might be wrong with him, with help from his friends and family.

Catch up on the story here!

Don’t say I’m out of touch With this rampant chaos your reality I know well what lies beyond my slipping refuge The nightmare I built my own world to escape.

Imaginary - Evanescence

It took less than ten minutes for Vergil to have an existential crisis. 

Why did I call Nero?

Why didn’t I call Dante?

What is wrong with me?

Why will you not leave me alone?

And the questions went on and on; a never-ending wave of increasingly dark and impossible to answer things. Vergil tried to stop them. He tried not to think about the possibilities or the mark on his chest. He tried to convince himself that the voice in his head was no more than a nightmare. That the portal he would have opened would have led to nowhere, and he’d just looked like a fool in front of Kuro. 

That sword no longer belongs to you. Kuro had said. 

What does he know?

A knock on the door startled him. “Verge?” Dante’s voice echoed inside. 

Go away, Vergil tried to say, but nothing happened. 

“Nero said you might need some help.”

Vergil held back a swear as he forced himself to his feet. He’d barely started zipping his vest up before he heard. “Oh hey Kuro! Didn’t know you could open the door.” 

“Are you calling me a fool, mortal?”

“... Why do you have Yamato?”

“Your brother almost returned to his master.”

Vergil took a single step and hit the floor before he could stop himself. 

When he opened his eyes again, he saw nothing but pure darkness. He tried to sit up, but a pair of burly hands pushed him back down. Panicked, Vergil fought back. Something cold slipped from his head as he yanked on the arms. They pushed harder, fingernails digging into his skin. Voices echoed in from all directions- a rabble of nothingness. “Let me go!” He snapped. “I will not…”

Nelo. 

“I’m not...”

Come back to me, Nelo.

“I’m not his…”

“Dad!”

He froze as a single word broke through the chaos. Dad? No one had ever called him that. No one should call him that. He wasn’t a father. He was barely a man. Just some pawn in Mundus’ endless game. Vergil thought he could escape. He thought this was over. Was two decades of his life not enough? Would the consequences of his mistakes never end?

“I wouldn’t do that, Sunshine,” another voice said. “He’s not exactly in his right mind.”

“It’s alright,” A woman said. Vergil recognized them both, but couldn’t place their names. Everything was dark. So dark. So cold. He was trapped again. Paralyzed and lost in the suit he’d been shoved into. 

Then a soft hand brushed his cheek. “Vergil,” The woman’s voice whispered again. “You’re alright. We’re all here for you.”

His eyes snapped open as he gasped for air. Dante’s hand tightened on his shoulder, but it was Roxy’s eyes he met first. Behind her was Nero with a look of pure relief as his shoulders sagged forward and he shook his head. Even further away was Nico with Aki in her hand and a smaller Kuro on her shoulder. “Let go,” Vergil said. This time, his voice was calm enough that Dante listened. Yet, Vergil didn’t sit up. Instead, he let his eyes drift back to her. “You’re awake.”

“Thanks to you,” Roxy said with a nod. Her hand had yet to leave his cheek. “Kuro didn’t have to do much this time.”

“How long has it been.”

“A little over a day I’ve been told.”

“A day,” Vergil said, his voice hollow. “I’ve been out for a day?”

“I found you unconscious in the bathroom,” Dante said. “Don’t worry though! I cleaned ya up and the kid only found ya sleeping,” He gave Vergil a lazy grin, but he heard the truth behind his brother’s oddly peppy words, nobody saw the mark but me. Vergil nodded, hoping to convey his gratitude. If Dante understood or not, he didn’t respond.  

“What happened?” Nero said. 

Vergil’s eyes closed for another moment. What did he say to that? The truth seemed more unbelievable than anything else he could say. But he had called Nero here for… something. 

Why had he thought that this was the right call again?

Yamato. 

And, as painful as it was to admit it, Vergil said. “I need one of you to take Yamato.”

Nero, Nico, and Dante all exchanged glances. “Who are you and what have you done to my brother?” Dante said. 

That time, Roxy pulled away as Vergil practically shot upright. “Do you honestly think I’d joke about such a thing?”

Dante threw his hands up between them. “I mean the things practically your security blanket, Verge. I’m shocked you’re not holding it right now.”

He wasn’t wrong necessarily, but Vergil really thought his brother could word that entire sentence differently. Instead, he explained what was happening. Or, at the very least, what he assumed was happening. It was difficult to know for certain what was in his head or not. He’d recognize Mundus’ voice from anywhere, as it had permeated all of his nightmares since even before he’d escaped hell. But whether or not he was actually calling to him…

He stopped short and glared at Kuro. “You knew.”

Kuro snorted. “I used to be one of Mundus’ pets myself a long time ago. I remember you.”

Vergil’s eyes widened. “I don’t…”

“I escaped just after he promoted you,” The dragon said. “As did my brother. But my story isn’t important.”

“Promoted?” Nero said. “So you were, what, working for this… Mundus guy?”

That time, it was Dante and Vergil who exchanged glances. “Listen, kid,” Dante said slowly, looking to Vergil for permission. When Vergil said nothing, Dante continued. “Did you ever wonder why your dad was gone for so long? Why he never sought you out or all that jazz?”

Nero frowned. “I just assumed…” He trailed off.

“That I wanted nothing to do with you?” Vergil said.

A slight red tinged Nero’s cheeks. “Well I know now that you didn’t know about me. But still… figured you were an asshole for just abandoning whoever my mom was too.”

“He abandoned everyone,” Dante muttered. Vergil glared at him, but his brother didn’t meet it. “He was trapped in hell, Nero. Twenty years of his life, gone to this ‘Mundus guy’.” 

“I’ve heard of him,” Roxy whispered. “But I never imagined…” She closed her eyes and shook her head before meeting his gaze again. “Kuro explained what happened, and we have a theory as to what’s going on. I’ve already called Dia on the matter but…” She trailed off as her eyes flickered away. 

“What?” Vergil asked.

“You’re probably not gonna like it.”

 “Just get on with it,” Vergil snapped. She flinched before he caught himself, but an apology didn’t come. If she expected one, she didn’t show it. “What’s your theory?” Vergil said, his voice much quieter than before. A part of him already knew what she was going to say , but hearing it was much better than assumptions.

“Kuro believes that Mundus forced you to make a pact with him,” Roxy said. “Now that you’re free, he’s trying to call you back.”

The room went dead silent. Even the younger devil hunters, who had learned Mundus’ name all of five minutes ago, went slack-jawed as their eyes snapped to him. Vergil couldn’t read anyone’s expressions. Dante’s lips were pressed together, and his gaze had hardened to the point that even his eyes didn’t give anything away. Nero looked somewhere between horrified, confused, and trying to find the right words to say. Nico looked like she was pondering something beyond Vergil’s comprehension. Only Roxy’s expression was soft as she placed her fingers on the back of his hand. “It’s alright,” She said. “We can fix this.”

“How?” Vergil said. “How can you fix this, Roxy?”

It was Nico who snorted. “Who knows more about pacts than our resident summoner, V-man?”

“Dia, technically,” Roxy said. “But yes, I know a good amount.” She pushed herself to her feet and took a small step back. “Can the rest of you leave for a bit? I need to speak to Vergil.”

“Are you sure about that?” Dante said. “He’s nearly lost it twice.”

“Keep that sword away,” Kuro growled as he crawled onto Roxy’s shoulder. “And she’ll have nothing to fear.”

“No offense,” Nero said. “But I’m with Dante on this one.”

“I’m not a wild animal,” Vergil said. 

“But are you in control?” Dante said.

Vergil glared at his brother. “Yes.”

Dante shrugged. “Alright then,” He beckoned to the other two. “I’ll grab Yamato. You’ll have to take Nico back to the van.” He waved his hand in front of her face to make a point. She didn’t even blink. “She’s far, far away in a galaxy I like to call the Nico-veerse.” He disappeared into the kitchen before returning with Yamato. “We’ll be nearby, sunshine. Holler if you need us,” He glanced at Vergil one last time. But, when Vergil nodded, his brother smiled and left. 

“We hadn’t planned on leaving for a few days,” Nero said. “So…”

“We won’t be long,” Roxy said. “Promise.”

Nero hesitated, but he soon followed after Dante, dragging a very distracted Nico behind him. Aki chirped his goodbye as he hopped off Nico’s shoulder and found his way onto Vergil’s lap where he curled up and promptly fell asleep. And while Vergil thought he should have found this annoying in any other situation, the creature’s soft purrs against his legs was oddly soothing. All he could remember was Shadow sleeping beside him on the few nights his human self got any rest. He recalled how he’d wake up in the morning with the oversized kitten lying right on top of him, only a few pounds shy of crushing him outright. 

He’d found that comforting too.

“Dia’s going to visit tomorrow,” Roxy said. “But I need to know what we’re dealing with.” She hesitated, followed by a sigh. “I know you’re probably not comfortable with the idea, but Dante mentioned a mark?”

“... It appeared yesterday.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“How could you possibly know any of this?” Vergil said. 

“I know how pact making works,” She countered. “Every demon can be made into a familiar, Vergil. Half-demon or otherwise. My father and Dia studied the effects of half-demon familiars for years before he died. I don’t know everything, but I know enough.” She shook her head. “Humans are able to escape it. Demons can’t. The two halves of your mind are fighting with each other. However…”

“However?”

“Half-demons need a powerful item to bind them to another soul,” Kuro said. “Marks can manifest, yes. But they are not enough. Not when the host wishes to control the other.”

“We think Mundus may have used Yamato,” Roxy said. “If he knew of its portal capabilities, then it’s likely he assumed he could bring you back whenever he wanted, so losing you wasn’t an issue.”

“He likely did not expect you to resist.”

“How can you be certain of any of this?” Vergil asked.

“I’m not,” She said. “With everything I and Dia know, it’s still a shot in the dark. But it’s all we’ve got right now, Vergil.”

“Luckily for you,” Kuro said as he hopped down to the couch. “We may already have a solution.”

“Which is?” Vergil said. 

“Dia thinks that we may be able to break your connection with him by creating a new one with me.”

Vergil didn’t understand why his body clenched at the thought. He didn’t know why he suddenly felt light headed, or why the world was spinning. And he certainly didn’t know why he recoiled at the sheer idea of making a pact with her. But there it was. An uncertain and terrible fear that burned in his veins and pulsed in his head. But, as if noticing his distress (was it really that obvious?) Roxy quickly sat across from him. “I would never force you to do anything you don’t want to do,” She said. “And Dia thinks I can break it the second you are free from Mundus’ control.”

That didn’t make him feel any better. “You’re asking me to risk…” He trailed off, self-conscious. Servitude was the word on his tongue, but was that even fair? He wanted to believe that he trusted Roxy. They had gotten to know each other over the last nine or so months. Almost a year now as friends, and at least three months as close companions.

But did that mean he trusted her with his life?

And if not… Did he trust anyone?

“If it would make you more comfortable,” She said. “Then I can show you my own marks as well.”

“You would do that?” Vergil said. “For me?”

“I’m asking you to give me something very personal,” She said. “It’s only fair that I do the same for you.”

“Besides,” Kuro said with a flick of his tongue. “If making a pact is the only way to protect you, then you’ll have to trust each other, or it will never work.”

Vergil was starting to think that the dragon might be reading his thoughts, but he didn’t dare mention it less he gave himself away. But his heart stilled as Roxy held her hand out. “Are you alright?” She whispered; the silly, special phrase that had quickly become their own. Slowly, Vergil met her fingers with his own and nodded. And in that moment, as she squeezed his hand with a quiet reassurance and returned his gaze with a confident smile, Vergil decided that he would trust her. Her, his brother, his son, Nico… all of them. 

Because if there was one thing Vergil had finally learned over all these years, it was that he couldn’t fight a war on his own. 

“I’ll go first,” She said. “If that’s alright.” She pulled away from him and shed her sweatshirt, revealing a tight fitting tank top beneath. And it was at that moment that Vergil fully realized just  how small the woman before him was. He’d known this already, as her head only came to his chest even in shoes, but she looked even more petite than before. The thought of hurting her… of crushing her with a single hand… 

He squeezed his eyes shut when she wasn’t looking, and pulled his thoughts back to reality. He wouldn’t hurt her. He couldn’t hurt her. Not Roxy. Not the woman he’ d grown to care so deeply for. 

Care deeply for. 

He really was a fool.

And Vergil might have blushed once she removed her shirt, but his eyes drifted to the ice blue swirls on her stomach. Her marks were much lighter than his had been, but Vergil could still see the exquisite details of every small snowflake. The lines continued around her waist, and when she turned, Vergil saw that both sides connected to a dragon-wing. Vergil could feel the demonic magic pulsing from the lines themselves, and he realized that this was the power he'd been feeling. Kuro's power, yes, but mixed with her own humanity. But behind the marks were scars; long, jagged scars that Vergil was certain would never truly fade. Momentos of the accident, he assumed. But they were worse than he thought. But right now, as she shared a piece of herself with him, he didn't dare ask for more. 

He had a feeling he'd know soon enough. 

When she turned back to face him, there was a playfulness to her tone. It was almost as if this was all completely normal and she wasn't sitting before him in a rather lacy and debatably risque blue bra. And it was that thought, of all things, that finally brought the heat to his cheeks. But only a little. No more than was necessary. (He'd have to ponder the strange buzzing energy that pulsed through the rest of him later). "Your turn," She said. And when he did unzip his vest, she waited for a nod before pressing her fingers against his mark. 

Her touch made him shiver. This was wildly intimate. More so than any hand holding. But if she felt any discomfort, she didn't show it. Professional, Vergil thought. And if she could manage that, so could he. 

“The good news,” She said as her fingers traced the lines. “Is that this isn’t a very strong mark, meaning he’s aware that you can fight him off if given enough time.” 

“Why would it appear now?”

“Could be to scare you,” she said. “He might want you to think that you don’t have a choice, or that returning to him is an inevitability. But do you see how faded the lines are?” Vergil nodded before she continued. “His link to you is tenuous at best, and I think Kuro was right about Yamato.”

The dragon huffed. “Of course I was.”

“Regardless,” she said with a soft glare in the familar’s direction. “Dia will be able to tell us more tomorrow.” Her gaze shifted back to his chest and she frowned.

“What is it?”

“This one in the middle,” She said. “ It’s not a mark, persay. It’s more of a scar. But you heal everything… right?" 

Vergil reached for the zipper of his vest. "I guess some wounds never heal… even mine."

Then their eyes met, and it took everything Vergil had to keep his gaze on hers. Roxy was close now. So…. very close. If he turned just right and leaned forward just enough… 

“Are you alright?” She whispered, but there was something else to her tone. Something else Vergil couldn’t quite pick out of the chaos raging in his mind. He found himself reaching for her cheek, and his knuckles gently caressed the skin as he stared into her beautiful emerald eyes. She tilted her head and nuzzled against him, eyes never leaving his own. The hand on his chest drifted to the side as she shifted closer. Her breath was cool on his lips and smelled of mint. He tilted his head and leaned in…

“If you were planning this,” Dia’s voice echoed in disapproval. “Then you probably shouldn’t have called me.”

Roxy jumped at the same time as Vergil. And, in an uncharacteristic show of clumsiness, his forehead knocked straight into hers. The resounding thud made his ears ring. She groaned as she pulled away, rubbing the side of her forehead as she fumbled around for her jacket. “It wasn’t like that,” She muttered. “And you said you were coming tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow. Today. It’s all the same.” She waved her off. “Now lets see if we can fix our little Mundus problem, shall we?”

Ko-fi – Master List – AO3

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A Blessing In Disguise Chapter 2

Chapter 2 – I Think I’m Gonna Like It Here

Theresa was hanging onto a huge boulder on top of a waterfall, looking up at a small group of people crowding around above her, with one young blonde-haired woman with bright blue eyes reaching out towards her.

“Hang on, Theresa!” she yelled. “Just hang on!”

“I’m trying!” Theresa yelled as she nearly lost her grip on the boulder and she tightened her grip even more, determined to not let go.

She looked down to see a much older stern-looking woman with dark black hair and blue eyes and an elderly man clinging to her legs. Theresa then mustered all of her strength to pull herself up to safety, but to no avail.

“I can’t! They’re too heavy!”

“Don’t worry, Theresa! Everything’s going to be just fine! Just focus and don’t let go!” a brown-haired man with a scruffy face and an average build bellowed as he also reached out to help her.

Theresa then looked into his eyes and felt herself freeze in astonishment. For some reason she wasn’t feeling particularly scared, worried or frightened. She actually felt… safe.

Safe?

How could she possibly be safe around this man? She doesn’t even know him, much less his name.

But before Theresa could entertain any more questions in her head, her fingers suddenly slipped and she was tumbling down rapidly towards the rushing and crashing water, screaming and flailing for her life along with her companions.

“Theresa!”

Theresa screamed out with pure and blood-chilling terror as she fell faster and faster to her doom.

Then before she knew it, everything went black.

Theresa shot up in her bed, panting and hyper-ventilating with her heart racing and throttling wildly in her chest and her body covered in sweat. She took a couple of deep, calming breaths and she briefly glanced over at her alarm clock.

2 a.m.

Theresa ran her hands through her face, exhaling sharply and massaging her temples. This was the third time this week that she had been having this nightmare, and she wasn’t exactly sure why.

At first Theresa rationalized that maybe it was just because she was mentally adjusting to her new surroundings and her anxiety was somehow manifesting into these weird and bizarrely vivid dreams. But now she wasn’t so sure anymore.

As far as she could tell, Tate seemed to be adjusting rather well to his new home, as well as any normal 2-year-old would be. Sure sometimes he would wake up in the middle of the night, crying and begging for Maggie and Victor and sometimes for his dad, which was perfectly normal considering how close he had been to all of them, especially his dad.

After all, it was Brady who had first suspected that Tate was his son, even before Theresa did, although she had nagging suspicions for a long time beforehand that something was horribly wrong after Kristen had her goons kidnap her and also arranged to have her baby stolen from her womb.

Theresa shook her thoughts out of her mind. Now was not the time to think about that. She had a whole new chapter in her life to build. Kristen DiMera was dead and she and Brady are responsible and mature parents now, and most importantly – sober. No one was going to take away the greatest joy of their entire lives from them, not even a deranged psychopath like her.

Theresa then fell onto her back again and closed her eyes, begging and praying for sleep to overtake her again.

--

The very next day, Theresa walked into General Hospital with Tate in the stroller as she sat down in the waiting room, waiting to be called up for her appointment.

While she was leafing through a local tabloid magazine, a young and attractive dark-haired woman appearing to be in her early to mid 30s and wearing a purple nurse’s outfit passed by her and then noticed her sitting there.

“Oh hey there, haven’t seen you around before. Are you visiting a relative here?”

“Actually no; I just moved here a couple of days ago,” Theresa answered, glancing up from her magazine.

“Oh really?” the woman smiled earnestly and then held out her hand. “I’m Elizabeth Webber. But everyone around here calls me Liz.”

“Theresa. Theresa Donovan,” Theresa replied, smiling and accepting her handshake. “I’m from Salem, Illinois. I’ve lived there for about 4 years before coming up here. But before that I was living in L.A.”

“Oh wow, sounds really amazing!” Liz exclaimed in astonishment. “Seems like that would’ve been a very cool place to live.”

“Yeah, it was… for a while anyway,” Theresa bit her lip, averting her gaze hesitantly. “My stepdad worked with a lot of famous and well known producers in Hollywood and some of them would even come over to my house sometimes for dinner. But that was a long time ago.”

“Oh…” Liz frowned, noticing Theresa’s reticence. “Sounds like you aren’t very comfortable talking about your childhood.”

“It wasn’t exactly the easiest or the happiest,” Theresa explained with a sigh, narrowing her eyes sullenly. “My parents split up right after I was born and I never got to see my dad very much because he was away working all the time.”

“My mom was also too preoccupied with her work as a child psychiatrist to take care of me and my brother Andrew properly and as a result we were left alone with Philip a lot. Suffice to say he wasn’t exactly the nicest or most pleasant person to be around.”

“Well, what happened with him?” Liz asked.

“He was a tyrant and a total asshole; he would often take out his rage on me when Mom wasn’t looking and blame me for a lot of crap that wasn’t even my fault. I was also angry at my mom for basically driving my dad away and for a long time I hated her for not only ignoring me and neglecting me but for also devoting so much time and attention towards Andrew. He was like the kid that could do absolutely no wrong in my parents’ eyes. It was pretty obvious as far as I was concerned who the real favorite was.”

Theresa paused, breathing deeply to keep herself from shaking from the painful memories flashing in her head.

“But it’s okay. It’s not like he’s my real dad anyway. It’s old news and I’m not interested in hashing out all that old family drama again. And I’m just so glad that my parents are finally back together after all this time.”

“And the best part is that ever since I had my son Tate, our relationship has improved tenfold and we got even closer when I had my bout with breast cancer last year.”

“Well, congratulations, Theresa,” Liz beamed and she bent down to look at Tate with a disarming and sweet smile. “And he is such a cutie. You and your husband must be so proud.”

“Oh, well actually I’m not married,” Theresa flashed a sheepish grin at the comment. “Well, not anymore anyway. It’s… kind of a long story. You see, I had a very turbulent and complicated relationship with the father of my child and we were super knee deep into drugs and alcohol back then.”

“We were so screwed up mentally and psychologically that we even went to Vegas and got married on a whim. The day that we finally got our marriage annulled, we actually had one last romp in the sack and then… well you know the rest.”

Theresa then laughed nervously with a slow face-palm, gazing up at the ceiling with pure disbelief and incredulity.

“God, I was so selfish and narcissistic back then, thinking that I was so entitled to his love and money. We weren’t exactly good for each other, but at the same time, Tate was the absolute best thing that ever happened to us. When he came along, we had no choice but to clean up and get sober for our little boy. I always say to everybody that kid represents the very best part of us. My brains and his heart.”

“That is so sweet,” Liz replied and then breathed deeply while running her hand through her hair. “Well, I’m not exactly the best role model when it comes to healthy and long term relationships either. I have three boys with three different guys.”

“The father of my eldest son Cameron got killed in a horrible shoot-out with the police and the father of my youngest son Aiden just… ran off and disappeared one day. I haven’t really heard from him since and sometimes I don’t even know if he’s even alive anymore. At least you know where Tate’s dad is.”

“Well… I can do a hell lot worse,” Theresa shrugged. “I could’ve ended up with a total psycho for a dad like Cal Winters and I also could’ve ended up with an assassin for a dad who kills people for a living.”

“Well… my middle son Jake has a dad who is in a um… very similar profession,” Liz forced a nervous and uncomfortable smile as she says this.

Theresa let out a loud exhale with a small chuckle.

“Welp… Brady may not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he’s one of the nicest and most compassionate and wonderful guys you’ll ever meet.”

“Great, so can I have his number?” Liz quipped.

Theresa laughed with a knowing glare. “I don’t think so, girlfriend. Brady is already spoken for.”

Liz then stepped back, holding up her hands defensively.

“Okay, chill. I was just asking.”

“Theresa Donovan?” an innocent and doe-eyed woman with a slender build, long, dark brown hair and wearing a doctor’s outfit appeared out of her office as she approached the two women.

“Oh hey,” Theresa greeted her as she stood up and shook her hand. “Dr. Kim Nero, right?”

“That’s right,” Kim nodded with a warm smile. “You must be Theresa Donovan. Welcome to Port Charles.”

“Oh thank you,” Theresa replied as she grabbed her stroller and turned to face Liz.

“It was really nice meeting you. Maybe we can set up a play date with our boys and hang out sometime.”

“I’d like that,” Liz nodded as she walked away. “I’ll leave you to it. Gotta get back to work.”

“Alright, bye,” Theresa grinned as she watched Liz disappear into a corner.

“Well, well, well, looks like you made a brand new friend,” Kim smiled as Theresa whipped around to face her. “You must be pretty popular.”

“Well, maybe a lot more now than when I was a kid,” Theresa shrugged.

“Come on into my office then,” Kim beckoned her as Theresa followed her into the examination room.

As soon as the two women entered the room, Theresa took a seat on a metal chair right near the door while Kim sauntered over to the counter and looked over her clipboard, examining its contents carefully.

Theresa glanced over at Kim with a thin line, looking very puzzled and befuddled. Kim then sensed that Theresa was watching her and turned around to face her.

“What is it?”

Theresa then let out a small, sheepish laugh, grinning bashfully.

“I’m sorry. It’s just that I could almost swear that you look a lot like someone that used to be in Salem.”

“Really? Who?” Kim asked.

Theresa grabbed the handlebar of the stroller, rocking it slowly back and forth with her right hand as Tate slept.

“My uncle Steve used to be involved with a woman named Ava Vitale a long time ago. She was really obsessed with him and she tried to break up his relationship with my aunt Kayla numerous times. They actually met during a period where everyone thought that Uncle Steve was dead and he didn’t even know who he was.”

“Wow, sounds insane,” Kim’s eyes widened in astonishment.

“Yep,” Theresa nodded. “You seem a lot nicer though.”

“I’m sure a lot of my friends and family can attest to that,” Kim chuckled as she turned back to her clipboard.

“Now then… your son’s name is Tate Donovan Black, correct?”

“That’s right.”

“And his birth date?”

Theresa flinched nervously. She and Brady were never really sure when exactly Tate was born, seeing as he was with Kristen in Italy at the time, but then they went to a doctor to try to determine how old he actually was. He then determined that Tate was anywhere from a couple days to a couple weeks old, so his parents concluded that he was probably born sometime in mid to late March.

“March 30th, 2015.”

“Okay, so he’s 2 years old,” Kim nodded. “What about his medical history?”

“Well…” Theresa frowned, tapping on her face thoughtfully. “He did have a congenital illness that required a bone marrow transplant. But other than that, he’s been perfectly fine. He’s been putting on weight and he’s hitting all his milestones like he’s supposed to.”

“Excellent!” Kim beamed as she then looked up right at Theresa. “I also see that his immunizations are all up to date and he’s due for another one very soon. Let me take a look at him.”

“Come on, kiddo,” Theresa urged as she unbuckled Tate from his stroller and handed him off to Kim.

Kim then brought him over to the examination table and checked out his ears and eyes first.

“Okay, now say aw,” Kim instructed and Tate opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue.

Kim then examined his throat with a light and studied it carefully, nodding with great interest.

“Uh huh… Uh huh…”

Kim then pivoted around to face Theresa with a solemn expression.

“He may be developing a little bit of a sore throat. You might want to get that taken care of as soon as possible.”

“Okay, sure,” Theresa nodded, a bit concerned and nervous.

Damn it, I’m such an idiot! Why the hell didn’t I notice that?!

Kim then listened to his heart for a few minutes and moved on to check his lungs.

“Okay, Tate, now I want you to breathe in and out deeply a couple of times.”

Tate nodded and did as he was told.

Kim then turned back towards Theresa with a satisfied smile.

“Well, his lungs and heart are both fine. It’s just that sore throat you need to worry about. I’ll write out a prescription for some medication just in case so we can nip this problem right in the bud. You can pick it up when you get to the pharmacy.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Theresa nodded gratefully as she went to pick up Tate from the examination table and placed him back into the stroller.

“Oh, and Theresa?” Kim interjected.

“Yeah?” Theresa raised an inquisitive eyebrow at her.

Kim smiled warmly with a compassionate and understanding gleam in her eyes.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. I know how difficult it can be raising a kid all by yourself sometimes.”

“Wait, you have a kid too?” Theresa questioned her suspiciously.

Kim averted her gaze with a wistful expression.

“Well, he’s not so little anymore. His name is Oscar and he’s in high school now. His father Drew came to town a while ago and now we’re both trying to do the absolute best we can with him.”

“Just like me and Brady,” Theresa murmured pensively.

She then glanced up at Kim again.

“So what’s Oscar like?”

“He is the most loving and sweetest boy that you’ll ever meet. He is also extremely thoughtful and intelligent and he does very well in school. I couldn’t ask for a better son.”

“I couldn’t ask for a more wonderful and amazing boy like my Tater Tot either,” Theresa gushed excitedly, overjoyed and thrilled that she got to brag about her offspring with a fellow single mom.

Kim then broke out into a short laugh, amused.

“That’s your nickname for Tate? That’s so adorable.”

“Yeah, I just started calling him that when I first brought him home and it has stuck ever since,” Theresa explained with a shrug. “I’m pretty sure that by the time he goes to high school though that he’s going to start hating me for that nickname but until then I’ll just be more than happy to keep using it without any shame or embarrassment.”

“All right then,” Kim nodded as Theresa got up and started heading out the door. “See you in six months?”

“Yeah,” Theresa replied and just as she was about to leave, a lanky and gawky brown-haired teenage boy walked right through the door.

“Oh, hey Mom,” the boy greeted Kim in a friendly and earnest voice.

“Hey, Oscar,” Kim beamed as she walked over to him and hugged him. “How was school?”

“Good,” Oscar nodded and then he stopped the moment he met eyes with Theresa. “Um, Mom, who is that?”

“Oh, this is one of my patients, Theresa Donovan,” Kim answered as she gestured over to her. “Theresa, this is my son Oscar.”

“Hey, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Theresa said.

“Likewise,” Oscar nodded.

He then turned to his mother. “Mom, I’m going over to Josslyn’s house to study with her. Is that okay?”

“Sure thing, honey,” Kim answered.

“Cool, thanks Mom!” Oscar grinned as he rushed out the door again.

Kim chuckled while shaking her head. “Aw, teenagers. Just wait till Tate becomes one, Theresa. Then you’re going to wish that he was a cute little munchkin again.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Theresa retorted in a sardonic and wry voice and she also headed out of the room. “See ya, Dr. Nero.”

“See ya,” Kim waved goodbye as she watched Theresa leave.

As Theresa was walking through the lobby of the hospital, she was full of smiles as she was mentally relieving her meetings with both Liz and Kim.

Wow, I never would’ve imagined that everyone would be so nice here. I honestly thought this town would be filled with nothing but assholes and creeps. Maybe Port Charles isn’t nearly as bad as New York City itself. I think I’m really gonna like it here-

But then Theresa was abruptly jolted out of her thoughts the minute she felt the stroller crash something and she nearly fell onto the handlebar. She glanced down just in time to see a much older woman bending down and frantically picking up a clipboard and a couple of loose papers. When the woman finally rose to her feet with her things, Theresa froze in horror and fear the minute she got a very good look at her.

She was very stern and severe looking with a long nose and sharp, intense blue eyes and her long, black hair was tied neatly into a bun. She was also wearing a white doctor’s outfit and had on a pair of black boots.

“You stupid girl, watch where you’re going!” the woman snarled in German with a curt sneer on her lips as Theresa suddenly stepped back with pure dread and terror in her eyes, clutching tightly onto her stroller. Tate began to whimper and sniffle with fearful tears seeping out of his eyes.

“Mommy!”

“Hey, Doctor!” a deep, brassy, female voice bellowed as a large, portly, middle-aged black woman charged right into the area and stared the other woman down fearlessly. “Leave that poor girl alone!”

The elderly German woman growled and stormed off, not wanting to have a confrontation right in the middle of the lobby.

Theresa then let out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding and sighed in relief.

“Thank you so much, ma’am,” she informed the older black woman. “I got so scared; I didn’t know what to do. That strange lady literally came out of nowhere and just started raving and yelling at me in this really weird language…”

“Think nothing of it, child,” the older black woman waved her hand dismissively with a reassuring, disarming smile. “That was Dr. Obrecht. Don’t pay any mind to her.”

She then noticed that Tate was still shaking and crying and she bent down to pick him up and cradle him in her arms.

“Awww, you poor baby. Did that mean old lady scare you?” she cooed softly.

Tate nodded as he kept on sniffling and whimpering. The older black woman then pulled him into a hug and comforted him.

“It’s all right, little one. Auntie Epiphany is here. Nobody is gonna hurt you or your momma when she’s around.”

Tate then gradually began to calm down and relax as he buried his face on the crook of her shoulder, still trembling.

“Hey, I never got to ask you what your name is,” Theresa interjected.

“Just call me Epiphany. I’m an old friend of Liz’s,” Epiphany explained as she rubbed soothing circles on Tate’s back. “Any friend of hers is a friend of mine.”

“Theresa,” Theresa said with a confident yet self-restrained smile. “I’m Theresa Donovan.”

“Yeah, I know who you are,” Epiphany smirked. “Liz told me all about you.”

“She did?” Theresa quipped with a curious eyebrow.

“Yeah, she sure liked you enough,” Epiphany replied. “Listen, if you ever need anything or you just want somebody to talk to, you can come to me.”

She then handed Tate back to Theresa as she put him back into the stroller.

“Um, thanks, Epiphany. I’ll hold you to it.”

Theresa then rushed off with the stroller as she quickly made a mad dash out of the hospital.

“See ya!”

--

Later that evening, Theresa hired a babysitter to look after Tate while she went out to Charlie’s to unwind and have fun. She was sitting alone at a table, slowly sipping on a pink strawberry martini.

She saw a couple of people file into the bar and got their drinks as they sat down together and had a good laugh. Theresa nodded dumbly and just ignored them, continuing to sip on her drink.

Just then, a couple of young blonde women appearing to be in their early to mid 30s came over to Theresa’s table and sat down with her.

“Hey, what are you doing sitting here alone?” the younger of the two asked her.

Theresa shrugged weakly, not exactly in the mood to engage in any sort of conversation.

“Just chilling.”

“Just chilling?” the older of the two blonde women reiterated incredulously, narrowing her blue eyes and glancing briefly at her companion. “Don’t be silly. Lulu and I are not letting you sit here all by yourself.”

Theresa took another sip of her drink and pointed at them.

“So one of you is Lulu?”

“Yeah,” the latter nodded. “I’m Lulu and this is my best friend Maxie.”

Maxie grinned enthusiastically.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Theresa offered a weak smile. “I’m Theresa. My son and I just moved here.”

“So where is he?” Maxie asked.

“He’s with the babysitter,” Theresa mumbled, making a sudden and odd wave of the hand. “His name is Tate.”

“So are you married?” Lulu inquired.

“Lulu!” Maxie hissed, elbowing her sharply.

“You wish,” Theresa smirked sarcastically, taking more sips out of her martini.

Lulu then studied her intently, narrowing her eyes.

“Um, no offense, but you seriously look like hell.”

“Is it that obvious?” Theresa giggled, rolling her eyes. “Well, that’s because I’ve had a hell of a day. My son may be coming down with a sore throat, I’ve been having recurring and vivid nightmares for the last couple of days and I almost ran over an old German lady with my own son’s stroller.”

“Yeah that ‘old German lady’ is my mother-in-law,” Maxie retorted while exchanging weird and befuddled glances with Lulu.

Theresa nearly choked on her vodka as she coughed and gasped violently, pounding on her chest. After taking a couple of minute to catch her breath, she gawked at Maxie.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Yeah, her name is Liesl Obrecht. She’s one of the many doctors that work at GH,” Maxie explained.

“Oh my God…” Theresa groaned as she sank into her chair while slowly running her hand on her face. “I cannot fucking believe this.”

“What?” Lulu asked.

“Your mother-in-law scared the living daylights out of my son and she nearly ripped me to shreds!” Theresa yelled angrily, clutching her drink tightly. “She probably would have had me for lunch if Epiphany hadn’t stepped in!”

“Wow, I’m really sorry to hear that, Theresa,” Maxie frowned sympathetically. “But please don’t blame yourself. Liesl isn’t exactly the easiest person to live with, trust me. Just don’t take it too personally.”

“Well, all right then,” Theresa averted her eyes with a sullen glare. “I suppose you’re right.”

Just then a group of young people sauntered into the bar and sat down at another table. Theresa then looked up to see a dashing young man with boyishly good looks and short, cropped, dark black hair.

“Wow, who is that?” Theresa gawked in amazement upon noticing the young man sitting several feet away from her.

“Well um… That’s Michael Corinthos, Sonny and Carly’s son,” Maxie replied, glancing over to see him.

“Really?” Theresa smirked, her face suddenly brightening up and her posture straightening up dramatically. “Well, I better say hi to this gorgeous, sexy hunk then!”

She then bolted out of the table and confidentially sashayed over to where Michael was sitting.

Lulu and Maxie grimaced anxiously together with worried looks.

“You didn’t tell her that he already has a girlfriend, did you?”

“Nope.”

Michael was sitting around with his friends laughing and drinking beers when one of them noticed Theresa approaching their table with a huge bounce in her step.

“Hey, who is that girl?” Brad asked.

“I have no idea,” Lucas shrugged.

“Beats me,” Dante interjected.

Nathan just took a swig of his beer, smirking with pure amusement.

Once Theresa reached the table, she tapped Michael on the shoulder. Michael then stopped what he was doing and turned around to see her gushing and beaming at him with entranced eyes.

“Oh, hey, miss. What is your name?”

“My name is Theresa. What’s yours, sexy face?”

Dante then coughed to hold back a laugh with his fist covering his mouth. Lucas and Brad snickered and gave themselves a high five.

Michael just smiled politely, tickled pink that the new girl in town was taking such blatant interest in him.

“My name is Michael Corinthos III. But you call me Michael.”

“What brings you here then, Michael?” Theresa asked.

“Just hanging out with my buddies,” Michael replied, turning back to face the other men.

“Cool! Me too,” Theresa squealed, feeling extremely excited and giddy at getting the chance to speak with her new crush.

“You friends with Lulu and Maxie?” Lucas queried, beckoning over towards Maxie and Lulu.

Theresa glanced back at the two women and nodded.

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, why don’t you come and sit with us?” Nathan offered, pulling up another seat. “We’d really love to get to know you better.”

“Really?” Theresa’s eyes gleamed as she glanced back at Maxie and Lulu for reassurance and Maxie nodded.

Theresa then nodded and was about to join the men when suddenly Nelle came gliding through the door and flew over to Michael, swooping her arms around him.

“Hey, babe,” she said as she and Michael shared a kiss.

Theresa’s face then suddenly drained of color and she suddenly felt faint and dizzy, horrified and appalled that her latest chance at love had officially been shot to hell. Brad then noticed that Theresa was shivering and trembling with her eyes filled with sheer dismay and disbelief.

“Um, are you okay, Theresa?” Brad inquired concernedly.

“I uh… I gotta go!” Theresa exclaimed as she was now suddenly scrambling to exit out of Charlie’s.

But just when things couldn’t possibly get any worse, Obrecht walked right through the door and stopped right in her path, baffled and aghast that their paths have crossed again for the second time that day.

Theresa stopped and stared silently at the older German woman for a moment, not moving or reacting. But then within a matter of minutes her face quickly changed into an ugly and vicious snarl, her eyes flashing with a furious and evil gleam.

“You…”

Obrecht growled back, her fists clenching tightly.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded in a thick accent.

Theresa then let out an arrogant laugh. “So you actually do speak English.”

“You watch your tongue, you insolent little girl!” Obrecht snapped back.

“Little?!” Theresa shrieked, now showing up her fists and taking a step forward with a menacing stance. “I’ll show you little, you ugly old hag!”

“Ugly, old hag?!” Obrecht spat with a contemptuous glare. “You stupid kids have no respect and appreciation for your elders! I’ll show you respect!”

She then delivered a swift backhand to Theresa’s face, sending her reeling to the ground. Theresa then got up to her feet, still feeling the stinging impact of the blow on her face. After taking a couple of minutes to collect her bearings, she then charged right at Obrecht with a scream and gave her a swift kick to the face. Obrecht nearly recoiled from the blow as she held up her nose, which began to bleed profusely.

She removed her hand and saw that there was blood pooling in the palm of her hand. Everyone gasped with horror as they all realized that the fight was about to take a very ugly turn.

Obrecht then pounced her to the ground and began to assail her with several punches and uppercuts to the face and jaw. Theresa did her best to fend off the blows as she punched and slapped her repeatedly in the face. She then delivered another swift kick to the chin, forcing Obrecht to roll off her.

Just then, Julian, Dante and Nathan rushed over to the two women and Nathan and Dante helped Obrecht get up on her feet.

“Easy, Mother. You’re badly hurt,” Nathan shushed her gently as Obrecht whined in pain, her eyes black and blue and her nose all a bloody mess. Julian then grabbed Theresa and helped her up too.

“All right, you ladies out,” he ordered as the three men helped the women out of the bar.

--

It was over an hour later and Theresa was lying in a hospital bed fully bandaged up, as was Obrecht. The two women were now recuperating in separate rooms as Nathan and Maxie were staying with Obrecht and Lulu, Dante, Michael, Nelle, Brad, and Lucas were staying with Theresa.

Theresa groaned and sobbed in bed, lying weakly on her back.

“Mother, what the hell were you thinking?” Nathan demanded.

“She disrespected me,” Obrecht growled in exasperation and anger, wincing and grimacing. “And I needed to teach her a lesson.”

“Well that doesn’t mean that you get to beat up a defenseless, tiny girl in the middle of a frickin’ bar!” Maxie chastised her.

“She started it! And she broke my nose!” Obrecht protested.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Liesl,” Maxie crossed her arms sternly.

“Just get some rest, Mother. We’ll see you in the morning,” Nathan instructed her as he and Maxie left.

“Nathan…” Obrecht pouted as she turned to glare at Theresa.

“This is all your fault. If you only have kept your mouth shut…”

“Well maybe you should stop acting like a psychotic maniac and then perhaps you might have more friends around here,” Theresa snapped.

“I don’t need any friends. All I need is Nathan, Maxie, Nina and Franco,” Obrecht insisted.

“Okay, suit yourself,” Theresa rolled her eyes and closed her eyes to sleep.

Obrecht then rolled her eyes and also went to sleep.

--

When Theresa finally got discharged from the hospital, she spent the next several days recuperating at home. She was also banned from going to Charlie’s for at least a month for the bar fight with Obrecht.

As a matter of courtesy, Theresa called Maxie up to personally apologize to her for picking a fight with Obrecht in the first place. Maxie accepted the apology, but Obrecht still refused to forgive or even acknowledge her.

Then the day finally arrived for Theresa’s big interview with Crimson. She put on her best work clothes and makeup, hired a babysitter to watch Tate again, and drove off to meet with her prospective new boss.

Once Theresa arrived at the lobby of the Aurora Media building, she came across a beautiful and attractive brunette woman with a slender and thin build, accompanied by a muscular built man with dark brown hair and a scruffy face.

“Oh hey! I’m here for the Crimson interview. Do you know where it is?” Theresa asked.

“Yeah, it’s right upstairs,” the woman answered, gesturing towards the elevator.

She then offered a hand.

“By the way, I’m Sam McCall. This is my husband Drew McCain.”

“Hey,” Theresa beamed as she shook both of their hands.

“Hey, if you’re here for Nina, you can just wait in the office. She’ll be here soon,” Drew explained.

“Okay, thanks,” Theresa replied as she quickly raced for the elevator.

Just as she got there, another tall and lanky woman with long, blondish brown hair and an athletic build caught up to her as they both entered the elevator. Once the doors closed, they soon ascended up the floors as they were heading for their destination.

Theresa then glanced over to see who was standing right next to her and gave a polite smile.

“Hey, are you working for Crimson too? Because I’m heading there right now for an interview.”

“I’m Nina,” the woman announced, looking over at her.

Theresa jumped in surprise, not having expecting to run into her like this.

“Um… wow…” she stammered as she gave her a once over. “I wasn’t really expecting you to um…”

Theresa collapsed on the back of the elevator, feeling particularly overwhelmed and embarrassed.

“Jesus, I honestly thought you were going to be some old lady or something…”

Nina chuckled with a playful smirk. “Nope, I’m not quite there yet.”

“Okay,” Theresa laughed.

“So you’re Theresa, right?” Nina raised an eyebrow at her.

“Yeah,” Theresa nodded.

Nina then studied her carefully, eyeing her recent injuries.

“That a black eye you got there?”

“Yeah… that was from a bar fight from a couple of days ago,” Theresa answered nervously, feeling very uncomfortable.

“I’m guessing that was over a guy, right?” Nina quipped emphatically.

“Yeah…” Theresa’s eyes darted to and fro, feeling even more apprehensive. “Something like that.”

The elevator doors opened and Nina and Theresa stepped out as they headed for the Crimson office. Upon entering, Nina advanced towards her desk and took a seat. Theresa also sat down right in front of her, her resume in hand.

“All right then. Let’s get started,” Nina announced as she grabbed her resume and looked it over.

“Huh, interesting. Seems like you have quite the work history.”

“Yeah, I only have a high school education,” Theresa frowned. “I don’t even have a college degree to speak of. But I was able to hold down my job at human resources at the hospital back in Salem and I did build a brand new fashion house with my former partner Nicole Walker from the ground up.”

“Well, for someone with a high school education and with a history of drug addiction, that is extremely impressive,” Nina mused, continuing to read over her resume. “Not to mention that you were on parole for roughly two years too while you were in Salem.”

“Yeah, I had to get my act together,” Theresa shrugged. “I needed that good ol’ kick in the butt to straighten myself out. Although sometimes I kind of slip back into some pretty bad habits.”

“Like that bar fight with my Aunt Liesl?” Nina questioned her suspiciously.

“What?!” Theresa gawked with a start. “How in the blazes did you know about that?”

“Maxie told me,” Nina answered coolly. “She also works here, in case you didn’t know.”

“Oh…” Theresa inhaled sharply, feeling suddenly awkward and humiliated. “Well, she did tell me that she was her mother-in-law.”

“Yeah, well that’s because Nathan is also my brother,” Nina replied. “And he’s a cop.”

“Okay…” Theresa scratched the back of her head. “That would explain why he helped those other officers drag us out of Charlie’s the other night. But you see… that was totally not entirely my fault. Liesl was the one that came snapping at me unprovoked. I didn’t even do anything. I only just accidentally bumped into her with my stroller.”

“Wait, you have a kid?” Nina asked.

“Yeah,” Theresa answered. “A son – Tate. He’s 2-years-old. I’m currently sharing joint custody with his dad Brady, which coincidentally was also my ex-husband, and if you were to ask around any of my old friends and associates back in Salem, that was a relationship that probably shouldn’t even have happened in the first place.”

“And if I were to ask around your associates back in Salem about you, would they also tell me about your constant habit of getting into bar fights with little old ladies?” Nina queried, tapping on her finger on her desk.

“N-No!” Theresa shook her head with a sheepish smile. “N-Not usually.”

Nina then pursed her lips, gazing right at Theresa.

“Okay, your history of drug addiction and alcohol is extremely concerning and therefore I’m going to have to subject you to random drug tests every so often. Also as long as your activities outside of work don’t adversely interfere with Crimson business, your ability to work here won’t be affected. Your uncanny talent for creating all kinds of fashion-wear for all sizes and ages would be a great asset to this company and I am willing to utilize it to the fullest extent possible. So come to work on time, give your 110% effort and make some amazing fashion lines and you will have a bright future here. Congratulations.”

Theresa let out an excited cheer and threw her arms around her in a hug.

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise you that you won’t regret it!”

“And Theresa?” Nina added.

“What?” Theresa frowned.

“Please do me a favor and do not antagonize my aunt anymore. I don’t want you to keep showing up with bruises and black eyes. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am!” Theresa nodded and saluted.

Nina chuckled. “We’re going to get along just fine, kid.”

[textsfromstarfleet]

ST Ask: 4, 7, 8, 9f, 15, 17, 18, 22, 24, 25, 28, 33, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44 Chekov, 45, 47, 50. Apologies for the long list if it proves any timely inconvenience, Jack. -🖖

STAR TREK ASK MEME

4. Favorite alien species?

Ooh okay so I love the Romulans a BUNCH but picking a favorite is kinda... weird? Like I love certain characters or societal norms but I can’t say I love all Romulans just like I can’t say I love all Russian people (sorry Chekov)

7. Who would make up your crew dream team?

(The entire crew) cough but if I had to pick an away team I’d pick Spock, Uhura, Kirk, Chekov, and Bones :P

8. Which captain would you most want to serve under?

KIRK of course. (Does that mean I serve under myself?)

9. Which episode plot do you prefer?

    f. Diplomatic negotiations or all out battle?

Hmmmm well I’m more a fan of nuance than a shooting war (side eyes Abrams) but the threat of battle or violence or even the reality of it adds depth to negotiations... so kinda both? But mostly the first. :P

15. Top 3 favorite alien crewmembers?

What constitutes an alien? Technically Kirk is an alien one he’s in space and away from Terra. :P 

That being said, my favorite non-Terran crew members are Spock, Worf, and Gaila. 

17. What role would you have aboard a starship?

Heh. Honestly I’d be an ensign or a yeoman. Some redshirt who dies in the first 3 seconds of the show.  

22. Would you rather serve on a starship or a space station?

Starship all the way!

24. Which character do you relate to the most?

Spock on an internal level, strangely enough.

25. Favorite villain(s)?

KHAAAAAAAAAAAN. And Nero.

28. Character(s) you want to cosplay as?

Nero, Kirk, Mirror Kirk, and various alien species. 

33. Whose twitter feed would you most want to follow?

Ohhh Sulu’s. He’d have the bEST tweets. 

39. You have to relocate to a planet other than Earth, which do you choose?

Hmm... any M class, I suppose. I’m less interested in location than opportunity. As long as it had like... wifi and pizza, I’d be fine. 

40. If you got a trek inspired tattoo what would it be?

Unrealistically I’d get Nero’s tattoos XD but realistically I’d get something in Vulcan down my spine. 

41. Which episode(s) creeped out/scared you the most?

Uhhh none? It’s kinda campy across the board :P Plus I have night terrors so it takes a lot to scare me. (I just rewatched Insidious last night and had nightmares about a completely different and terrifying thing so... wheee)

42. Which episode(s) made you cry?

Oh lord. So many. The one that really f-ed me up (besides Plato’s Children) on a philosophical level was A Taste Of Armageddon. 

“We're human beings with the blood of a million savage years on our hands, but we can stop it. We can admit that we're killers, but we're not going to kill today. That's all it takes. Knowing that we won't kill today.”

43. Order of shows from most to least favorite?

TOS, TNG, DSN, STV, STE

44. If *insert crew* ended up in the modern day what would amaze them the most?

Chekov would go bananas over social media. Snapchat and Vine would be his favorite. 

45. Which alien culture would you most want to live in/would feel most comfortable?

Those are two different questions. I’d like to live amongst Vulcans both to try and reign in my own emotions and bring theirs out, but I’d be miserable there. I might, unfortunately, flourish amongst the Romulans, but I think I’d be most comfortable wherever there’s a healthy mix of people. 

47. An unpopular opinion you have?

Hggg which one?? I don’t think Chekov and Sulu would be good together. There. Let the flame wars begin. 

50. A random headcanon?

Kirk wakes up .05 minutes before he has to be on the bridge and Spock is furious because he has to wake up like 10 hours before his shift to get ready and Kirk just rolls out of bed looking like his thicc and fine self.