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stevebabey · 9 months

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and on the final day on august (not where i am hehe) i bring you my fic for @thefreakandthehair summer fanwork challenge! my prompt was nightswimming, its steddie (duh) and she's a baby 2.2k piece <3

— hold my hand and tread the water

The water ebbs around his ankles gently and the ripples move across the lake surface like black slicks of ink, twinkles of moonlight catching on crests of the small waves.

Steve swallows thickly.

Why did he think this was a good idea?

It's not Lover's Lake. He knows it's not— he knows that Hawkins and all its crawling rot, through roots and beneath lakes, is miles away from him.

Steve knows that even with the gate closed, if something slipped by- somehow, he can't think of how- but it doesn't matter, if it did, it surely wouldn't be able to reach him here.

It looks an awful lot like Lover's Lake in the shadow of night.

Steve blinks harshly and curls his toes in the sand, grounding himself by burrowing his feet into the soil. The sound of lapping water was once a sound of comfort, connected to a bout of nostalgia — the sort of comfort that can only come with a routine of familiarity.

Swimming used to mean... it was the exhilaration of the dive. It was the pleasant burn in his muscles and the blaze deep in his lungs as he held his breath as long as possible, pushing the limit every time.

It was the gasp, the relief of breaking the surface, a moment of loud noise before he submerged once again, muted rushing water the only sound. It was the long and solid strokes that he carved through water with. Swimming always used to to make him feel strong.

And now... there's this new fear rooted within him.

But, hell, there's lots of things that the years of fighting and surviving the Upside Down had taken from him. Steve will be damned if he adds swimming to the list.

"—Steve?"

Eddie's voice is suddenly beside him, right in his ear, and Steve flinches, dragged abruptly from his wandering thoughts. He tears his eyes from the swirling lake surface to find the other man beside him, brown eyes searching with that glaze of concern. There's a furrow in his brows. Steve feels the warmth of his hand before it lands on his shoulder, tentative and wary.

"Are you okay?" Eddie asks quietly, like speaking any louder might spook Steve more. He has this tone to his voice, the one that Steve thinks might be reserved just for him. He hasn't heard Eddie use it on anyone else. His usual loud and raucous voice, so normally used for jeering and loud heckles, completely softened.

It softens Steve every time Eddie uses it.

"We don't gotta do this tonight, if you don't wanna."

"I want to."

The words rush up his throat and stick a little on the way out. Steve clears his throat and digs his feet further into the sand.

One of his hands creeps up his chest til his fingers brush against Eddie's own hand, still holding his shoulder. He meets Eddie's gaze for a moment before an intensity seizes his chest and that recognizable lurch in his heart forces his gaze away.

That lack of courage is new too. Though, that's one thing he can't seem to blame on the Upside Down.

"It's the last one." Steve murmurs, eyes back on the lake ahead of them. Faint crickets fill the orchestra of the night around them, an occasional frog tuning in with a ribbit! Something splashes in the distance.

It is the last one. The last fear to conquer to reclaim back that piece of himself. Through out their whole silly and impromptu road-trip, they've pushed that slimy fear further and further down in Steve. Burning it away, making it smaller, til Steve was feeling bigger and better. They started in a pool, in the daylight, Eddie's open palms and soothing eyes coaxing him back into the water.

Here is the end. The last one. A lake in the night time.

Steve can feel the fear curdling in his gut, the tenseness in his muscles, every single instinct that's kept him alive for the past five years screaming at him to not get in. He feels like a house of cards, ready to topple in the slightest breeze, just drinking in the sight before him. Eddie's hand on his shoulder might be the only thing keeping him steady.

He could leave, could avoid swimming during the nighttime, could retract into himself every time that sticky fear licked up his spine— bringing back memories of vines tight around his ankle, pulling, tugging, drowning him, and— Steve clears the memory with a violent twitch, muscles jumping in their tenseness.

He's so sick of being in survival mode.

Eddie's fingers on his shoulder flex, gifting a comforting squeeze. Steve can see the chipped black polish on them in his peripheral, bare of their usual rings, prepared to swim because Eddie always gets in with him. They always swim together. God, Steve's not sure what he'd do without him.

Steve swallows again, the stone is his throat budging this time as the want surges up deep in his chest; he wants to make some goddamn new memories too.

"Can you..." He murmurs, finally turning his head to peer at Eddie beside him.

"Of course," Eddie answers his unvoiced question easily, beginning to wade into the lake a little further.

The water sloshes around his ankles, climbing up his calves, and Steve's gaze drags up with it, lingering on Eddie's milky white thighs. There's another tattoo there, a sphinx-like character, curled up and stark in it's dark colour against his pale complexion.

Steve hadn't been able to hide his staring the first time they'd swum together — a tiny bright-tiled pool in a motel, one or two states back — completely entranced by the swirling ink and the bareness of Eddie's thighs.

Eddie had caught his gawking with a smug sort of grin and ribbed him for it, tugging the fabric of his swim shorts up higher to show off the full piece. Mercifully, he didn't point out the flush it brought onto Steve's cheeks. Steve had apologised, both for his staring and for doing it in one of the more improper places, but Eddie had only given that wicked beautiful smile.

"M'used to stares, Steve." He said, not nearly as bitter as Steve thinks he's entitled to be considering the man-hunt set on him. "You don't look at me like them."

Looking at the stretch of his thigh now, tattoo partially hidden away, Steve ponders Eddie's words to keep the itch of panic at the back of his neck away. What had Eddie meant? Just how he does look at him?

Some girls like long looks, like feeling eyes raking them up and down hungrily but most of them like skirting glances, always glancing away if they've caught Steve watching. Eager glances at thighs and down chests are certainly not encouraged. It's a game of back and forth. One can't be seen to be too eager, too ravenous.

Except for, Eddie seems the complete opposite. He catches Steve's keen gaze, he spots the staring and relishes in it — like Steve's attention is something is something divine and Eddie will drink in all he can get.

It doesn't feel like it's a prize the way it did in high school, girls vying for King Steve's attention. It feels... Eddie makes it feel like something to revere.

"C'mon, sweetheart." Eddie croons, beckoning Steve into the lake and away from his distracted thoughts. He's got his hand outstretched, palm up, calloused fingers relaxed and inviting Steve to hold them with his own.

He does. He's not sure when it became a thing, holding hands — probably sometime when they upgraded from pools to rivers and lakes — but Steve's grateful for it. Eddie's fingers blanch beneath the tight grip but if it pains Eddie, he makes no move to show it on his face.

Steve grips tighter. When Eddie drifts back a step, the dark water licking an inch higher on his legs, he lets himself be pulled along. Step by step. He keeps his eyes ahead, even as the other peers down into the dark water momentarily.

Eddie gasps and a jolt of fright fires off, deep in Steve's gut. He clutches Eddie's hand tighter and Eddie's head pops up, squeezing Steve's hand back.

"Fucking chilly, is all, okay? My balls are freezing, Jesus. H. Christ."

He does this silly little hop like it's going to help the chill of the night-time lake-water. It's a funny enough sight that Steve doesn't try to stifle his shaky laughter and some of his panic melts away with it. He still doesn't look down.

Eddie scrunches his nose up and then narrows his eyes at Steve. "You're laughing now."

Steve sticks out his tongue — and bites it harshly as the water sweeps up past his waist, submerging his swimming trunks and everything below. Fucking hell, it is cold. Eddie wasn't lying.

As far as each of their swims have been — there's been six altogether, or seven if you count the high bath they took together, which Steve doesn't — this one is going smoother than what he's come to expect. There's still that prickle down his spine, like ice ghosting atop his skin, but Steve can shake it in a shiver.

The water looms higher, swallowing the plains of his stomach and Steve can feel his neck craning up, trying to get taller. Still, he takes the next step. And the next.

Suddenly, there's a brush against his leg— scaly and mucky and he knows it's not what he imagines it to be but there's no clamping down the instinct built in. His heart slams in his chest and his practiced even slow breaths transform into rapid bursts, this dread clawing deep into his gut. Steve can feel his hackles rise, knows his hand must be twisting tighter and tighter in Eddie's grip.

It all shows as a minuscule reaction on his face. Steve knows because Robin told him once—regarded him with that crinkled look once when the panic attack had crept up on him during a shift, then uttered an oh shit! once she realised what was happening.

You're too good at that. She'd told once he'd managed to calm down, head between his knees in the employee room out the back.

What?

Good at hiding it. Robin said, nudging his shoulder. He can't tell from her tone it's a good or bad thing. Maybe, it's neither. You look so calm all the time, even when you're panicking.

Eddie's come to learn the signs too. The specific pinch in his eyebrows, the twitchiness of his lips.

"Woah, woah, hey, hey," He brings the two of them closer, no longer leading them out. Eddie's dark eyes dart across his face, a wrinkle in his brow as he tries to soothe. "Just a stupid fish, nothin' to worry about, you're good."

His hands travel as he speak, shaking off Steve's tight grip to slide up his tan arms. Steve's hands shoot out, desperate to hold something, to cling to something, his big hands enveloping Eddie's wrists as the other rubs gently at his biceps. Fingers curl around the tanned skin and beg Steve closer, beginning to sink down in the water as he does.

"C'mon, you're safe." He murmurs and Steve, hanging onto tight, sinks down with him. The water climbs higher, lapping at his collarbones. Steve clings tighter, clenching up in preparation. "S'just you, me, and the fishies."

"If you think that's all that's in here, you know even less about lakes than I thought," Steve grits out.

"Shit, really?" Eddie asks. Then after another moment, "You think there's crocs in here?"

"You didn't even check?"

Eddie's grin rivals the moonlight, cheeky and delighted. "Course I did," Then he scoffs dramatically, tossing his head back. Some of his hair hits the water with a splash. "Can't believe you don't trust me at all, after all this time together."

A sly smile fights to reach Steve's face; he lets it win. His panic isn't dissolved completely, just lingering in the back— but it's been beat out by his interest in conversation with Eddie, in the strange flirt they keep seeming to do.

"I don't have any trust in you at all since you picked Motel Evergreen and—"

His words get smushed beneath Eddie's palm, warm and soft against his mouth, as the other boy narrows his eyes. "Shut your pretty mouth, Steve. You promised you wouldn't bring that up again."

Even as he threatens, Eddie's eyes light with a mirth and there's that glorious grin on his face and oh god, Steve wants to kiss him.

Like a vacuum, the panic sucks out of him in a single moment as the tide turns and his nerves turn to that. Fuck. Eddie's hand slips from his face, nervous he's gotten too close, too touchy. And, well, Steve's always been one to wear his heart on his sleeve, so he says;

"Make me."

Something glitters across Eddie's face, a bewilderment dipped with glee. For a moment, his expression shutters as he tries to comprehend what's been said. What's been offered.

He lands on an astute, "What?"

Steve sinks into the lake and kicks off the bottom, water swishing as he starts to tread water. His feet kick and he has half a mind to spray Eddie with a face full of icy lake water but he's got that doe-eyed exuberance that Steve adores, like he's daring to let himself believe what Steve's saying.

So, instead Steve holds his hand out. He treads the water and says, "I said, make me."

Eddie doesn't waste another second.

#LexsSummerFanworksChallenge #weehe! enjoy!#i luv it a little. having a deadline made it fun cos it turned out differently than i expected!!#ruby writes steddie #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #hurt/comfort #nightswimming #pre-steddie #uhhhh thats all i got for u :)#beloved wren if u see this i SO keep meaning to run pieces by u before posting #however this is due as of yesterday apparently lmao #apologies!

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bonny-kookoo · 11 months

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How was <I like you> YN's & JK's first time together? Who iniated it? 👀

-> Masterlist

"Jesus christ-!" Jungkook curses under his breath, using a pillow to block his view of your naked body emerging from the bathroom.

"I mean, I'm only me but thanks for the comparison?" You giggle, trying to pull down the pillow- though he's got an iron grip on it. "Come on kookie, it's just a pair of tits!" You laugh, but he shakes his head, looking away as you successfully put the pillow down, sitting next to him on the bed, your knees digging into the blanket on the mattress.

"Its not... just any pair." He mumbles to himself, not daring to move his head.

"Are you a Virgin?" You ask, and he shakes his head. "Oooh, do you just not like sex-"

"No, that's not it!" He softly argues, unsure where his eyes should roam as he instead uses the blanket close by on the bed to cover you. "Its just- you'll laugh at me.." he almost whispers, attempting to get up- but you hold his wrist, keeping him with you with no strength needed.

"Jungkook." You say, bone chillingly serious. "I'll never laugh at you, okay? Not with any intention to hurt, at least." You make sure he knows. "I might laugh about.. stuff that you do, or when your hair is all chaotic after you took a nap, but that's never to hurt you." You say.

"No, it's fine-" he starts, already uncomfortable because you shouldn't have to reassure him. He's the man. He's supposed to take the lead and all that.

"No, it's not fine." You shake your head. "I don't know who might've done that shit to you, but I won't. And if something I do makes you all weird inside in a bad way, you gotta tell me. I won't hate you." You shake your head.

"I just.. don't know if you'll even like me. Like.. that." He offers, a bit unsure as he looks at his hands in his lap. "I get all sweaty n' gross.."

"So?" You shrug. "I sneezed while giving head once. It can't get worse than that." You reveal, and he has to force back a laugh unsuccessfully, immediately turning his head to apologize. "Dont, it's fucking funny in hindsight. You can laugh!" You giggle, running a hand through his hair. "I'll go wash my hair-" You start, but he instead leans forwards, captures your lips.

He's got to jump over his shadow at some point, he decides. And you're worth it- because he's safe with you, after all.

"No you won't." He tells you under his breath, moving his body and adjusting both of you so he's towering over you, blanket slowly pulled away by his own hand, revealing your bare skin to him for the first time. You're so pretty to him it hurts, and you smell sickeningly sweet like peaches and coconut, a new bodyspray probably- you love those with glitter in them, giving your skin an almost otherworldly shimmer.

And he can agree that it's beautiful- but right now, you're perfect like this, no matter how you look. It's more so the fact that you've chosen him that makes him feel so oddly proud.

"You're.. " he mumbles against your skin, lips running over the side of your neck. "...really pretty." He compliments, and you giggle excitedly.

You've gotten a lot of empty compliments before, things said just to keep you soft and compliant with anything said or done. But he's got no reason to compliment you. Jungkook doesn't have to tell you that you're pretty- so everytime he does it, it feels like he actually means it. You know he means it.

You think he's pretty too.

"Condoms are-" you want to tell him where you've put them in your pink bag near the bedside table- but he shakes his head.

"I'm taking my time." He explains, smiling at you.

"Oh my God, I'm secretly dating a sex God am I?" You dramatically joke at him, and he can't help but laugh.

"I'm not sure about that.." he shakes his head, before he leans back and pulls his oversized black shirt over his head- for the first time revealing his rather toned physique to your wide open eyes, and there's an unfamiliar sense of pride growing in his body at the sight of you flustered.

"-But I can certainly try and live up to the title."

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook x reader #bts jungkook imagine #bts jeon jungkook x reader #bts jeon jungkook imagine

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itsmeatballworld · 1 year

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| to the night sky |

pairing | daryl dixon x f!reader

summary | It’s autumn in Virginia so Daryl invites Reader to spend a night cuddling under the stars.

wc | 857

warnings | kisses, autumn time in Virginia, and soft boyfriend!daryl... so nah, no warnings <3

a/n | note this has some spoilers for season 9 but nothing crazy. Also posted on my ao3!!

His eyes were so bright. Bluer than the sky. Bluer than the sea.

You’ll remember that ‘til the day you die.

You tore your gaze away for a second, just to glance up at the tiny twinkling lights above.

His callous hand latched onto yours as the hearth outside flickered in and out. “Should get some rest,” Daryl whispered.

“We should.” Your fingers twirled across his rough palm. “But look… damn, look at those stars. They’re beautiful. You gotta look. The clouds are gonna block them.”

Daryl smiled, his eyes never leaving your face as you watched the sky. “Yeah. Beautiful.”

“You didn’t even peek,” you murmured as his hands snuck around to caress your round hips.

“I did too.” His tone was playful as a smirk etched across his lips.

Tonight, the sky was black and painted in tiny twinkling lights. Dark and looming from the east, thick grey clouds slowly began to shadow the moonlight cascading through the trees.

You were somewhere in Virginia between a dried up creek and spacious woods. Location never mattered anymore. You were living—surviving—and enjoying the brief moments of peace left for the breathing.

Colors of cinnamon, brick red, and yellow as bright as corn litter the ground in piles. It was the fleeting beauty of Autumn, until the heavy rains and mud blur the colors in a dark, murky haze.

Atop the little hill was your makeshift campsite. Daryl tugged and tied each layer down as tight as possible. The lopsided tent with a worn clear-plastic sheet roof showed the sky. An old pail near the zipped-up entrance used as Dog’s water bowl. Wool and cotton blankets dragged from Alexandria covered the thin tent floor. The dying light of a small fire pit was nearly out after hours of ignoring its plea for more firewood. Daryl wanted to keep you safe when visiting. Less light, less problems, he’d murmur.

Tonight, you were snuggled up to Daryl. His arm around your waist, pressing your chest to his in a tight embrace. He loved holding your warm body close, trailing his hands up and down your hips and thighs, as if you were his lifeline.

Tonight was perfect. A peaceful autumn night alone with your lover.

“Aye.” He drops his voice. “You should head back in the mornin’. Safer in the sunlight.”

Back. Back to the group. Back to your home in Alexandria. Back to safety and walls.

“Sure,” you mumbled.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you liked being outside the walls of safety. You liked the wondrous and dangerous world surrounding you. Life was precious but you never wanted to waste time living in a bubble. “Come with me?”

Daryl paused, his fingers drawing light circles into your skin. It might not have been words, but you knew his answer. No. He had a job to do. Look for Rick.

You sighed, resting your head into the crook of his neck. “Alright… but if you change your mind, you know where to find me.” Breathing in deeply you tried to bury the smell of him in your memory. He smelled like homemade soap and tobacco.

“Carol stopped by, huh?”

The stoic man let out a soft chuckle. “You can tell?”

“Soap… a new haircut… blankets without holes? I’d say she prepped you with the good stuff for this weekend.” Those blue eyes were glued on you. His fingers trailed your side until he dug in a bit deeper. He hugged your curves into his body like he never wanted this to end.

“Mmhm.” Daryl smiled. “Good stuff.”

Your hands slipped up his chest, digging your fingers into the cotton tee. “Hole-less blankets,” you giggled. “Gosh, Mr. Dixon, you know just how to please a girl.”

He grumbled as he tugged the waist of your pants down an inch. “Anythin’ for my girl.”

That deep, raspy voice scratched an itch deep in your soul. “Your girl, huh?” Your lips pressed into his as those rough hands wound underneath your clothes.

He grumbled a response as he continued to kiss you deeply. Every morsel of your being tingled and buzzed with excitement to be near him. To be so close to him.

Maybe it was the forced time spent together, but Daryl Dixon is someone you never thought you’d get after the world stopped moving forward. You never thought you’d have a man who loves you so deeply. Who pines for you. Who finds you funny—and genuinely laughs at your jokes. Some days he doesn’t talk much but hugs you from behind and kisses the crook of your neck. It was love. Pure, endless love.

He pulled back from your lips. The hazy look of exhaustion mixed with lust washed over him. “C’mon, I mean it. Get some sleep.”

“How can I when you kiss me like that?” You smiled as those blue eyes lingered on your swollen kiss-stained lips.

Daryl grunted. He pecked the edge of your smile before pulling you into a tight cuddle. “Sleep.”

You closed your eyes.

The night sky was beautiful but all you could think about were those bright blue eyes.

><<>><

a/n 2.0 | ily *mwah* and ily daryl dixon

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl dixon fanfiction #reader x daryl dixon #y/n x daryl dixon #reader x daryl #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fluff #fluff #daryl dixon x y/n #y/n x daryl #soft and cuteee #<3

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doxypsychlean · 2 years

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Was there ever a time, ever a moment?

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen X OC

Summary: "That bastard truly loves her. And she's been toying with him this whole time"

Warnings: Explicit language(more will be added later on, gotta come up w it first)

Multiple Chapters

Previous chapter/s: 1 , 2

Next chapter/s: 4

Thou shan't repost/copy/ translate any of my work or I'll sneak into your home late at night and bite your nose off!

English isn't my first language. I don't proofread. I slap commas wherever I feel they're needed.

A/n: We do NO blinking in this establishment! Gotta get our eyes all nice and dry. There's some translation of the Asshai'i down below btw. Wasn't sure what to do w it tbh, but I felt like trying to fit it btwn the actual convo would be too much to deal w.

It was days like this one that made the young woman regret ever leaving her home. King's Landing weather did not agree with her, nor did she with it. It was always too hot, too sunny. She was used to the cold Asshai days and even colder nights.

Although the Shadow city was as southeast as Essos goes, the weather there had always been on the colder side. The thick blankets of black clouds that stood watch over the city did not let any light pass through.

Another thing she was starting to miss dearly was how silent Asshai was in comparison. It's sheer size was massive, said to be great enough to contain all of King's Landing, Oldtown, Volantis and Qarth within its walls combined. The population however, was low. Low enough for a person to spend their entire day walking around without encountering another soul. And even if they did, the locals stayed out of eachother's way. They did not spend their time hiding in the shadows. They were the shadows.

Shadows with some busy lifestyles, that is. Everyone had somewhere to be. Something to do. No distractions. The Asshai'i were devoted to their craft. There were no children around to scream their lungs out or babble to no end. There were no birds to chirp happily in the trees. In fact, there were no animals in the Shadow. They'd all die within a day of being brought into the city. Only thing they had were blind, deformed fish that dwelled in the contaminated waters of the Ash, only madmen would dare consume.

For her and for few others Asshai was Heaven on Earth. Quiet, as peaceful as it would allow and mostly importantly- one was free to do as they wished. As long as they had the necessary means. As long as they possessed the power.

"Salen guenhwyvār xen'h Nevae."

Rebonna sensed their presence long before they even appeared behind her.

"Āeksio salen." The two shadows siad in unison.

"Kav othok emā nesh syt tel'quien tha?" Rebonna asked, never stopping to look at them. All the while pretending she did not see the silver haired man watching them from afar. About time.

The two creatures walking close behind her did not say anything. Not that they had to, she already knew what they answer would be.

"...Sýrí?"

"Āeksio salen, eron iksis daor narom a feer...Thamar saz'gon daor." The taller one's voice reached her ears . His dull eyes were staring at hers. Never blinking.

The woman stopped and turned to face the two. They held her gaze. Doing the opposite in such a moment would be a fatal mistake. They knew what happened to cowards.

"Essa mirith, guenhwyvar salen. Aeth tha eron iksis maleē bithreem."

Silence fell upon the halls of the Red Keep. They could all hear him now. He thought himself a skilled, great warrior. One of great vigor and low-cunning. Yet he walked around the place as if he were purposely trying to get his cover blown.

"Āeksio salen...Mirri eno iksis egzieā thamar."

Rebonna circled around her servants, so she could stand between the two. She grabbed each of their arms and pushed them forward,the skirts of her dress trailing behind her as she sped up.

"Tha millentu rumol issa. Ha'ave kav othok, guenhwyvar salen. Thamar keskidosso ti." She let out a laugh. Her eyes were not laughing though. She did not appreciate him meddling.

"Mero thamar...?" The one on her right asked.

"Daor neh-akh, Enek. Kāolin issa naeot, tha ledā zyrelá sen thaóla. Giś forbin."

"Hae othok ukasire, Āeksio salen." Enek agreed. He picked up the pace, so did Beliz.

They walked through the halls for a bit, trying their best not to think of the scorching sun outside.

"Ziry iksos iā gevie den...othok umbagon issa daor harev tha. Harāth. Adelan o ivestragon se hama, tezo Nevae ono othok kav soliz tha. Ukairth iorwe issa."

"Yare, Āeksio salen." The two creatures responded.

Enek dissappeared without saying a word, leaving but a trail of black smoke where he once stood. His disdain for this foreign land was more than obvious. Rebonna felt the same. She had to stay here though. Just for a bit longer. But she couldn't force her shadows to do the same. It wouldn't be fair to them.

While the Master of Shadows was getting lost in her own thoughts, her loyal servant had allowed himself to turn and face the young prince that was following them. Their eyes met. He could sense it. The jealousy, the possessiveness, the questions, the distrust, the slight hints of anger. All bubbling inside.

"Othok io vesnābi havve, morgon salen. Tanaka vesnābi." He said while still looking at the silver haired stranger. "Sen daor keskidossa linta, zāh se tolie kessa. Enok ov latruum."

"Othok ukasire tha eron?" The lady let out another laugh "...Thamar pendagon ēma ukam, nek-akh vallo. Sem harāth, kav daor ez onast fuihiniv."

"We'll see you soon, friend." Beliz was gone as well. Rebonna kept pushing forward, she was almost out of the Red Keep and into the godswoods.

Not long after she reached the Weirwood. So many years had passed. She couldn't help but feel like they were still watching. She stood still, watching as the wind raced between the red leaves.

"Do you remember the last time I saw one of your...?" She trailed off. "My Prince."

"My lady." Aemond cleared his throat, his fingers fidgeting.

"I haven't seen you since the feast."

He took another step towards her. All he wanted to do was take her in his arms. Be able to touch her. Just like those strangers had.

He was drawn to her, like a moth is to a flame. Everything in his being screamed, pleaded for him not to do it. It was unnatural. One side of him found it odd how close he felt to her, to someone he'd only seen once in his whole life. The other side of him couldn't care less. All he wanted was her. All he wanted was to make her laugh like she did at that feast. Like she did with those two mysterious strangers. He needed to hear all the stories she had to tell- of the foreign land she came from, of her past, of the strange tongue she spoke in. Of those strange creautures that had the ability to dissappear into thin air.

"For which I am filled with more sorrow than you could ever imagine, my lady. There were matters in need of attending to."

In reality, the silver haired prince had tried to avoid her as much as possible after the conversation he had with his mother, the Queen. She was right. He knew nothing of her. Of her people. He had to be careful.

The prince tried to find as much information on the Asshai'i before he had to face her again. But the Westerosi rarely ventured that far east. And when they did, they almost never made it back. The Shadows either swallowed them or drove them to insanity.

If he had to be honest, he was scared. All these unfamiliar emotions made him feel overwhelmed. She was a stranger. Not to be trusted. Yet.

Even so, Aemond felt shame tug at his heart. He should have been spending more time with his betrothed. Damned be the council meetings, the training sessions with Cole, his studies and all his other excuses. He should be with her. Maybe he would've found some answers by now, had he not tried to hide from her like a scared little boy...

"I... You are to be my wife. I should be spending more time with you. I apologize. "

"No need, my prince." She finally turned to look at him, the prince freezing in place. "And I beg of you, adress me by my name."

"Only if you'd do me the honor first, my-"

She was looking at him, one eyebrow raised and a mischievous grin lighting up her face. The void her eyes were fixed on him.

"-Rebonna." The prince corrected himself.

"Yours."

His heart felt like it was about to explode into million tiny pieces any second now. His. His.

"Care to take a walk with me?" Rebonna asked, her eyes searching his.

The man's arm shot up so fast, it didn't even register to him he had moved.

"Let's go then." Soft giggle made it's way out past her lips, her hand finding it's way around his, just like it did the night of the feast.

Lady Vessard did not expect for it to be so easy to get the gorgeous prince to open up to her. From what she'd heard about him, he was an ill-tempered, stubborn and distant. With her, he was dashing, thoughtful and eager to tell her as much about himself as he could. Of course, Aemond made sure to leave out the unpleasant memories. There was more than enough time for that, his betrothed was not worried. If she could trick him into telling her that much with only having met once prior to this leisurely stroll, she'd be getting everything she needed out of him in no time.

The short walk in the gardens had turned into a whole tour around the Red Keep. The prince couldn't stop talking. He told her the story of how he'd claimed his dragon,Vhagar, and the excitement of getting to ride her for the first time. As a student of history, the mention of Vhagar led to him telling her of all the dragons that came before her. Like Balerion the Black Dread, his father's dragon. The only memory that was left of Old Valyria, his skull now decorating the rat-infested dungeons. Then came the topic of Valyria itself. Rebonna listened to him w half a ear. Unlike the young Targaryen, she'd had the pleasure of seeing the city at it's strongest. She didn't need to hear tales of it, especially from someone like him.

Prince Aemond was baring himself to her without even realizing it. It was the simplest of things that made him most vulnerable to her power. The feeling of her gentle hand around his forearm was enough to keep the satisfied smirk on his face and any rational thought out of his head. He was doing all the work for her. So easy.

He didn't notice she'd completely stopped listening to him at first. Her eyes were going over every crack and crevice of the Red Keep, never stopping at one place for too long, never blinking. As if she was afraid she'd miss something.

"Rebonna?"

Her hand had dropped back to her side. Aemond was standing in front of her now, searching her face.

"Hm?"

"Am I boring you?" A wave of sadness and insecurity, then one of confusion flashed across his face in the matter of a split second second.

"Oh Aemond, never! I have simply had a tiring day. I have yet to get used to everything around here. It's a bit..."

"Overwhelming?" He finished her thought for her.

She nodded, gripping his arm once again, just a bit stronger this time. Aemond's face flashed red. She caught him staring at her as they walked, mind blank.

"You must be tired, Rebonna, I apologize..."

"Do you do this often, my prince?"

"What exactly, my lady?"

"Apologizing when you're not at fault" the woman laughed.

She had him backed into a corner. She could see the gears turning in his head, he was about to offer her another apology.

"Oh...I apolo-"

"Brother! Seven Hells, I've been looking for you for hours now! Ah, Lady Vessard! It's so good to see you again!"

The sweet, shy boy in front of her dissappeared in the blink of an eye.

"What is it that you want?" His voice had dropped, eye darting from the woman that was still clinging to him and his brother. If it weren't for her, he would have ripped Aegon's head off with his bare hands.

"Our presence has been requested at the small council meeting." Aegon winked at his brother. "Come now, I'm sure lady Vessard has had enough of you talking her ear off and all that... My lady!"

Prince Aegon grabbed his brother by the sleeve and tried to pull him forward, but Aemond wouldn't budge. His attention had gone back to his wife-to-be, crystal blue eye silently pleading.

"My lady, would you do me the honor of dining with me this evening?"

"Of course, my prince. It'd be my pleasure." She let go of his arm with a sweet smile. Aemond felt sick at the loss of contact. "I'll see you later this evening then?"

He simply nodded. The prince couldn't trust his voice in this moment.

"That would be lovely!"

Aemond nodded again.

"Prince Aemond, Prince Aegon."

The two men were left there to stare at her as she turned the corner and dissappeared into the depths of the Red Keep.

"Told you she won't bite. You should've asked her long ago, instead of sulking and hiding from her"

"One more word..."

"Fine, fine..."

The entire time the two brothers spent walking towards the small council chamber, the younger prince could think of only two things. The feeling of his betrothed wrapped around his arm and what he meant to ask her after he followed her into the godswoods. But he couldn't remember.

*Translation of the Asshai'i down below*

R: My Shadows of Darkness.

B,E: Master.

R: Have you got anything for me?

R: ...Well?

B: Master, there's no trace of them... We found nothing.

R: It's all right, my shadows. I did not expect them to show their faces this soon.

E: Master... Someone is here.

R: I know exactly who it is. As do you, my shadows. We share the same eyes.

E: Should we...?

R: No need, Enek. If it were to come to this, I would deal with him myself. Keep walking.

E: As you wish, Master.

R: It's a beautiful day, you shouldn't stay here because of me...Go. Get back home and tell the Dark Ones what you told me. It's their move.

B,E: Yes, Master.

B: You're playing a dangerous game, old friend. Extremely dangerous. He may not be able to see through,but the others will...Sooner or later.

R: You think I don't know that...? We'll deal with them accordingly, need be. Now go, do not leave the others waiting.

#aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #hotd fanfic #hotd #aegon targaryen #daemon targaryen #somedarkmagicshitgoingdown #game of thrones #aemond targaryen x reader

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3cremepie3 · 2 years

Text

Donation

Kinktober day 2

Sypnopis - The begging of your brought virginity session only you didn’t know your hook up was a vampire

Warnings - Mentions of virginity, paid sex work, oral (receiving and giving), blood drinking, blood

A/n- I posted this just before midnight I completely forgot about Kinktober sorry y’all. I may do a part 2 to this next month.

“Sure,” you agreed to his offer. Maybe he just had some sort of weird fetish but you didn’t mind when he offered you 100,000 dollars for your virginity you couldn’t deny it. I mean the setting was a little strange but he couldn’t help it.

He knew from the moment you walked in the club doors that you didn’t belong in a place like this. So he with his vast riches took you out of there. “I’m leaving Suguru take over for tonight.” He waved to his friend deep in the shadows. Already you were tired after drinking all night and parting with your friends.

“Would this be considered sex work?” You thought out loud in his limousine. “Normally that’s on my end.” I used to be an escort but I stopped 3 weeks ago.” Are you finally ready to settle down,” you pondered.

“I don’t know about that.” There was a situation with one of the clients that kinda forced me to stop.” Sorry to hear about your misfortune Gojo.” Thanks but I can tell your not being serious.” You smirked at him. Well, a man like you deserves a fine woman.” Someone like me,” you laughed.

He could tell you were overly drunk a sudden swirl of confidence crashing against you. But he didn’t mind it since you reminded him of his normal self. Maybe your more alike than he thought. “Whatcha thinking about,” you giggled.

“The non-drunk version of yourself I met earlier.” I like this new version but you gotta be in your right mind to make choices like this one I’m leading you on.” I can make choices like this,” you pouted.

“I glad that you think that.” He wiped the sweat from your brow. “Is it hot in here or is it just me?” You fanned your face. “I can’t take this,” you Babbled. You tore a leg slit in your small black party dress. You sighed air finally coming through to you. “Why did you do that you looked so amazing in that dress,” he inquired. “I was gonna toss it anyways that shit was showing my beer gut.”

“Hey don’t degrade yourself I think every part of you is sexy.” You haven’t seen every part yet,” you doubted him. “Well, I will soon enough look where already here.” He pointed to his large mansion up ahead. Your jaw dropped from its hinges. “This is beautiful!” You hopped out of the car touching every marble statue at his front gate.

“It’s renaissance themed.” He answered your question before you even got to ask. He gave you a short tour around the first floor but never brought you up to the second floor. “Why can’t we go up there?” Because I’m sensitive to sunlight and it’s very bright up there.”

“Ahh okay.” You thought for a minute how weird that was. I’ll bring you down here though to my third bedroom watch your step these stairs are steep.” You followed him down long stone steps deeper and deeper into his dark basement. “Gojo I’m scared!” You whined not feeling his arm around your hip anymore. You stood there in darkness until you heard a flick within a moment lights turned on dim but bright enough to light the room.

“What the hell.” You looked around even more amazed. This must be the washroom every direction there was a new sort of device. A rain head shower, a sauna, a hot spring. “I hope you don’t mind I wanted to wash up first.”

“Not a problem.” You gulped realizing he was already naked while you were fully clothed. “Come on aren’t you gonna strip what about all that talk from in the car,” he teased you. “Fine!” You took off each price of clothing slowly folding them and then putting them on the vanity.

He helped you dip into his whirlpool tub which was practically the size of a hot tub. You sat back leaning your neck on his chest. “Ahh, something’s poking me!” You say up thinking maybe it was a jet. “Sorry,” Gojo laughed. “I must be a little too hard.”

“Here let me help you out.” You sat just before his lap staring at the soapy water. Your hand felt for his dick finding it burning up his chest. He was as hard as a rock even through the water you could feel his mushy tip leaking.

His reaction was cute to you eyebrows all knitted together. You wanted to see it again so you brought your thumb over his tip spreading his pre-seed all over the head. Your other hand massaged his balls adding to his stimulation. “S-shit yeah keep doing that!” He bit his lip muffling his moans.

You removed your hand from his balls and started to pump his shaft. You felt his veins pumping even more blood up to his tip which leaked in your other hand. “Fuck your way too good at this.” Or are you just sensitive Gojo?”

“Shit! Call me Satoru baby I don’t mind.” You scooted closer hands still at work while Gojo held his head back arms lent on the sides of the tub. You brought your mouth to his neck sucking near his collarbone. He shivered at your sudden movement face warm at your boldness.

“Shit your gonna make me go crazy!” Stop pumping me will yah.” You stopped awaiting his next move. He grabbed a towel from the side wrapped you in it then lifted you over his shoulder. “Aren’t I heavy?” Compared to what I can lift your a feather sweetheart stop worrying.”

He let you down on his bed. “Do I have to use a condom or can I go raw?” Well, your paying 100k I think you at least deserve to go raw for a night.” Say less!” Can you help me finish I’m leaking everywhere here?”

“Of course.” You climbed on top of him your pussy sitting right above his face. “What a beautiful view,” he marveled. You knelt above him not wanting to smother his face. “I don’t mind you smothering me.” With his confirmation, you sat firmly on his face moaning as his mouth found your folds.

But you had something more important to do. This wasn’t the first dick you sucked but it was the biggest slender and long as you wrapped your mouth around it. You gagged it going through the back of your throat.

You heard his muffled moans even through the slurping of your cunt. You took your mouth off his cunt coughing after he began to thrust into it. Your nails dug into his thighs out of instinct since you were experiencing a new type of high. He had slipped a finger into you curving it inside until he hit your spot.

He added in another thanks to your wetness you groaned your thighs locking around his head. His movement was skilled his tongue never making a mistake and flicking your clit with ease. Unlike the sloppy blowjob, you were giving him. Spit pooled down to his balls ad you used your hand to pump his base. You tried your best to drag your tongue around his veins. But taking more of him in your mouth seemed to be the number priority.

He chuckled seeing your face contort even though you were doing amazing. So he thrust up again helping fit the rest of his shaft into your mouth. He came with a grunt his cock spilling his seed in the back of your throat. You were soon to follow gushing in his overjoyed mouth. You collapsed a top of his face forgetting the fact that he had to breathe.

He lifted you rolling you over next to his muscular body. “You ready,” he asked. “Yes.” You answered even though your breath was unsteady. “Hey, I hope you don’t get turned off by this but I’m gonna need at least a syringe full of blood from you is that okay?”

You laughed at his randomness. “What the fuck sure I guess!” He leaned into your face his eyes closed delicate white lashes fluttering. At first, you thought he was gonna kiss you. So your lips perked to kiss him but he rejected this idea moving over to your neck to suck a harsh hickey?

No this wasn’t a hickey you realized as he bit into your neck with ease. “Ahh Satoru that hurts.” You tried to claw at his back to stop him. But he kept going sucking your sweet nectar.

“Gojo,” you cried out. “I said that’s enough.” Your body was becoming weaker by the minute. You let out one week slap to the back of his head. Finally, he came off your shoulder making a pop sound.

His demeanor was different. He didn’t even look at you and you could tell he was more obsessive, rougher. “Satarou answer me please,” you begged.

“I’m the same old man you met earlier only I’m much more hungry.” Now that you looked at him you could see his once light blue iris turned red. Fangs poked out his plump lips that were smeared with your blood.

“Now I’ll ask you once again are you ready Y/n?”

#jjk smut #heartland #anime smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk imagines #jjk x reader smut #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo smut #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru #gojo x you #gojo sensei #vampire #cw monsterfucking #jujustsu kaisen x reader #3creampie3

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rosemaidenvixen · 7 months

Text

Broken

Ao3

Toby’s legs were burning, chest heaving as he sucked in deep, gulping breaths of stale air but he didn’t slow down. Racing through the narrow stone corridors. The puffs of breath and soft crunch of sneakers against stone in his ear let him know that Claire was right behind him.

They were close, so close now. They’d snuck into Gunmar’s stronghold and evaded every guard, now all they had to do was find Jim and get him out of he–

He rounded a corner, the hallway opening up into a large room, and stumbled to a stop. Claire slammed into him from behind with a grunt, nearly sending both of them toppling, but none of that mattered compared to what was directly ahead of them.

There, they were standing on the far side of the room facing away from them, but Toby could still recognize that dark armor, black hair, lanky build–

“Jim!”

Toby wasn’t sure if it was him or Claire or both of them that shouted, all he knew was that they were sprinting across the room towards his best friend.

All this time, after all this time searching the Darklands they’d finally found him.

“Oh man I’m so to see you,” Toby reached out and tugged on Jim’s arm “C’mon let’s get out of here,”

Jim didn’t respond, he didn’t move at all. Continuing to stand motionless facing the far wall.

Claire stepped up next to him “Let’s go Jim, we’ve gotta get out of here before Gunmar finds us!”

“Go?” Jim spoke up for the first time, still facing away from them “Why would I want to go?”

Toby froze, that was still unmistakably Jim’s voice, but there was an icy lilt to it that was anything but Jim.

“And besides,” Jim gave a dark chuckle “Gunmar’s already here,”

A low, rumbling chuckle sounded from behind them, Toby’s guts curdling at the sound as he and Claire slowly turned around. On the far side of the room was a massive troll sitting on a towering throne. Missing eye, wide curling horns, and a mouth full of crooked teeth stretched into a sadistic grin.

Toby’s breath caught in his throat.

Gunmar

Trying to look more brave than he felt, Toby held out his warhammer “Back off tall dark and ugly, dinner’s canceled,”

Claire sided up next to him, shadow staff at the ready “What he said. We’re getting Jim out and you’re staying here,”

Gunmar laughed again, the sound somehow more terrifying than any roar or snarl he could have made.

“You twigs would cost more to digest than you’re worth, instead I leave the honor of disposing you to my champion,”

Toby’s breath sped up even as he tightened his grip on his hammer. What did he mean by champio–

From behind there was the distinctive metallic shing of a sword being pulled from its sheath.

Toby and Claire whirled simultaneously to see Jim brandishing daylight in their direction, lips pulled into a too-smile.

But that wasn’t what sent his heart shooting up into his throat, hammering in his ears.

Jim’s eyes were completely white. Iris, pupil, and sclera lost in a wash of white static haze.

Claire let out a choked cry, Toby nearly dropped his hammer.

No, please, not Jim

“Jim! Jim come on it’s us!” he cried out desperately.

Jim didn’t respond, stalking forward with sword in hand, Toby and Claire instinctively backing away.

“I know you’re in there somewhere!” Claire pleaded “Please you have to fight him!”

“Your pleading is pointless,” the thing that was both Jim and not Jim spoke “I serve the Underlord, and it will be my honor to build him a throne of the bones of his enemies,”

He swiped daylight, making Toby and Claire scramble back in surprise.

“Starting with yours,”

Toby was shaking all over, heart beating so loud he was sure everyone in the room could hear it.

From across the room Gunmar continued to laugh.

“Jim please don’t do this,” Toby pleaded, eyes brimming with tears.

The thing that stole Jim’s soul and wore his body as its own smiled and raised daylight high.

“Hail Gunmar,”

#tales of arcadia #trollhunters #jim lake jr #claire nuñez #toby domzalski #gunmar the black #halloween prompts #rmvwrites

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lovehugsandcandy · 4 months

Text

withdraw

Pairing: Aerin x f!MC, Blades of Light and Shadow

Ratings: M (blood, injury)

Word Count: ~1,250

A/N: MC saying that they would retire was so funny to me (sorry bby, I know you deserve it, but we got book 3 coming). Title from dictionary.com, which has a line about the origin of the word 'retire' being to ‘withdraw to a place of safety or seclusion’ and man, dictionary, why you gotta go so hard. Also, thank you to @choicesficwriterscreations for putting my work on your archive!

Summary: Eventually, all heroes retire (and, fortunately, our hero retires with her world at her fingertips).

“I’m going to retire.” Aerin's chest pillows her head as they bask in the afternoon sun. For once, the realm is quiet and secure, and she realizes she could quickly get used to lazy days in the heart of Deadwood.

He huffs above Raine, his jaw tickling the hairs atop her head. “Really,” he drawls.

“I am. The next time the world needs saving? They just need another hero.” Her hand tightens in green fabric; where their legs tangle, she gives his calf a gentle kick.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do!”

He chuckles softly, arm tightening around her waist. The grass is soft below them, the sweet scent of green and lavender about, and the clouds seem frozen in time, stuck in an elysian sky. “I don’t believe that for a second.”

“I mean it; I am going to retire.” She turns to nudge her nose against his collarbone, kissing the sliver of scar tissue that emerges from his tunic. “I am, I am, I am.”

~~~~~

“I want to retire.”

Aerin raises an eyebrow, barely visible in the flickering torchlight. “Uh, huh.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice?” She snuggles closer, but his warmth can’t keep the chill at bay; even the bedroll underneath them doesn’t stop the cold stone from leeching its frigid tendrils into her bones. “No more sleeping in grimy caves, risking our lives all the time. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

He rolls his eyes. “And, pray tell, what would you do with your time?”

“I can think of many things I could do with my time.”

He needs to muffle his laugh so their friends don’t hear, scattered and dozing around their temporary domicile. A night of safety after unceasing nights of terror. “You wouldn’t get bored?”

“You wouldn’t entertain me?” Her lips turn down into an exaggerated pout as she bats her eyebrows.

He leans down to lightly nibble on her lower lip which, of course, turns into their lips melding warmly, hidden by darkness and their bedroll. His cheeks flush as he pulls back to whisper, “I would entertain you until the end of time.”

“It’s settled then.” She rests her head against his chest. “I really am going to retire.”

~~~~~

“I am really - ow - I am really going to retire.”

“Would you. Just. Hold. Still.” Aerin grits his teeth as he pulls the bandage tight against her forearm.

“I’m trying-” Raine cuts off with a whine. “I am trying, but it’s a little difficult right now.”

“I know.” His voice turns into liquid patience, sympathy and fear darkening the hazel in his eyes. “Just hold on.” Behind him, dark shadows flare malevolently as the battle continues. As much as she tries to look away, she can’t help but watch the black in her vein slowly make its way up her skin. Aerin finally pulls his hand from his rucksack, a vial of gleaming gold cradled between two fingertips. Quickly, he bites at the cork stopper and sprinkles a few grams into the festering wound on her palm. The burning subsides immediately and her shoulders sag as her skin fades into a normal hue.

“Really, Aerin, I’m going to retire.”

“Sure you are.” His smirk belies the concern in his eyes. “Better?”

“Much. Thank you.” Her unblemished hand finds the hilt of her sword.

“What happened to that retirement?”

She clenches her teeth as she unsheathes her weapon, metal reflecting the surrounding flashes of magic in an ominous gleam. “It will have to wait.”

~~~~~

“Aerin. I promise, this time…” Raine clutches his tunic tighter while he shakes underneath her. Sweat pours from his clammy skin, but she doesn’t care, grasping him with all she has. “This time, I will retire.”

“You won’t.” Aerin’s teeth chatter as he grits out the words.

“I will.” Tears mar her vision. “Aerin, I promise this time-”

“You don’t need to-” A sharp inhale cuts out his words as his teeth clench.

“Raine, move out of the way!” Nia’s careful hands come to her shoulders, but she can’t move - she won’t - not when Aerin lies injured - nay, dying - beneath her. “Raine, move!” There’s a golden light behind her and the lines of tension ease in his forehead, but it doesn’t stop the blood from pooling on the ground below. The wound is severe, she can tell by the pallor of skin, and her breath comes in frantic, choking sobs.

“Aerin. Listen to me.” There’s the clanking of battle behind her, metal crashing and incantations hurled, so she leans over to hiss in his ear. “Listen! You’re gonna be fine. Nia’s gonna fix it-” somewhere above, there’s more golden light flashing through the tears blurring her vision- “and we’re gonna go back and live with the goblins-” at this, a pained smile flits over bloodied lips- “and it’s going to be fine.”

“It is fine, Raine.” His uninjured arm twitches, as if he is reaching for her, but the effort is just too much. “It is fine. Ever since you allowed me a chance at redemption, ever since you allowed me to be by your side, it has been fine. Thank you for-“

“Don’t you dare.” She leans forward and their foreheads touch, so she can glare into his eyes. “Don’t you dare say something that sounds like goodbye.”

“I’m not. I said I wouldn’t leave your side…” His eyes flutter shut and Raine cradles his chin, fingers digging into his cheekbones until his eyes meet hers again. “Unless… unless you ordered me to.”

“I order you to stay.” She spits the last word, holding his face and his gaze until the sound of battle ceases, until the flares of golden light slow, until the hastily prepared compresses have eased the worst of the bleeding.

Finally, when some color has been restored across his features and the terrifying trembling of his limbs still, she exhales.

“I really…” She sinks against his chest as the adrenaline seeps from her body, leaving only gratitude and relief in its place. “I really am going to retire.”

He weakly kisses her forehead, the barest wisp of lips against her skin. “Uh, huh.”

~~~~~

“I’m going to retire.” Aerin stills beneath her, his hand pausing its gentle circles at the base of her spine. “I am. I’m… I’m done.”

He shifts, carefully, unsteadily, turning so he can see her face where it rests on his chest. His left hand is still healing, fingers curled into an unnatural shape, and they tremble as they sweep against her cheek. “Raine? What are you…?”

“I’m going to retire. I can’t…” She breaks off before forcing the words out from her tight chest and clasped lips. “It’s just… watching everyone dive into danger. Watching you-“

“Don’t stop on my account. I know the risks and I accept them every time.”

“Well, I don’t. Not-” Her breath shudders as she remembers his blood flowing between her fingers, the terror winding up her spine. “- Not anymore.”

He must hear the gravity in her tone, the certainty in her words. “Won’t you miss it? The traveling, the helping others? The saving the world?”

A flock of birds soars overhead, their joyful caw filling the sunlit sky, and the giggle of goblins can be heard in the distance. Underneath them, the grass is soft, a suitable bed for lounging at the lakeside, and the trees twinkle as the breeze flits through them. “I would miss this more.”

Aerin doesn’t speak for a while, letting the lapping of the shore fill the silence as he cradles her close. “You really… you really mean it this time.”

Raine smiles and, for a moment, there is only his heartbeat in her ear, his hand at her back.

Her world is here.

“Yes, I really mean it.”

#aerin valleros #aerin x mc #amy writes

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autumnslance · 1 year

Text

Year of the OTP - April 2023 - Canon Divergence/AU

(("I’m not great at writing AUs" I say in the March post, not realizing I'd picked up my clown makeup that day. I meant to write something else out of the possible prompts; this happened instead. More notes at the end. Year of the OTP prompt list here. This is 3550 words of an alternate Shadowbringers timeline.))

Crack

His gunshot struck true, the familiar dissipating with an ear-splitting screech and burst of aether.

“Bastard!” Ran’jit shouted. Still moving too fast, going from stumbling to rushing in, fists connecting with a suddenly fragile-seeming sternum and ribcage.

Air knocked out, he flew backwards.

“Zaine!” Thancred’s voice sounded far away.

Crack

The gunblade’s last shot filled the air, bursting with the girl’s aether.

There was a gurgled cry, and then a slumping sound. Ran’jit said something Zaine couldn’t make out as he made himself partly sit up—just in time to watch the general finish falling to the ground, dead.

The point of Thancred’s gunblade dug into the dirt as he fell to a knee, panting. He was bruised and bleeding, having taken the brunt of Ran’jit’s rage while Zaine dashed around with his revolver and automatons, trying to get in shots past nearly impenetrable defenses. It had been hells, but together, they’d done it.

Thancred tried to stand, then fell, splayed out on his back in a puff of dust.

“Thancred!” Zaine rasped. He tried to get up, but oh, that hurt; he definitely had some cracked—maybe broken—ribs, his cuirass the only thing holding him together, and none too well. He crawled to his companion.

Whatever rogue’s trick Thancred had been pulling to vanish so completely from Ran’jit’s preternatural senses—even Zaine, familiar with Thancred’s aether and abilities and with a few tricks of his own, hadn’t been able to sense him—had taken its toll, perhaps even more than Ran’jit’s martial arts and magicks had.

Zaine knew what a dying man looked like, and Thancred was standing on Thal’s threshold.

“No no no you don’t,” Zaine rasped as he finally reached him. Thancred’s injuries were extensive, but it was definitely the aetheric drain—in a man who couldn’t properly manipulate aether—taking its toll.

And yet Thancred, with an arm over his eyes to shield them from the unrelenting Light above, smiled, the whisper of a word finishing with a last breath as Zaine reached him.

“C’mon, Thancred, stay with me,” Zaine begged, searching through his comrade’s many pockets and pouches. “Godsdammit, where are your potions?”

He knew some had been used in the battle, but wasn’t certain when Thancred had last restocked; surely before they had returned to the desert. Zaine finally found the remnants of two vials smashed from one of Ran’jit’s crushing attacks, and swore in Thavnairian.

“If I find whoever taught you that aetheric cutoff trick, I’m wringing their neck,” he muttered. He barely had enough energy for himself, but something had to be done.

“The girl needs you,” Zaine said, certain of her choice. “Aeryn needs you. You gotta stay with us, brother.”

He wasn’t nearly the mage his sister was, but he had no options. Drawing on what little he had left, he cast his own rudimentary healing spell.

Were those familiar voices calling their names, or his own wishful thinking?

Zaine blacked out as Thancred coughed in a breath.

—

The night sky over Amh Araeng was clear and cold. Looking out over the shadowed landscape from the balcony of the old inn, Zaine could almost imagine himself back in Thanalan, if not for the great glittering wall of translucent crystal along the southern horizon.

“Farewell, sweetheart,” he whispered, tears prickling at his eyes even as he smiled.

He had given up his last chance to see her, but couldn’t regret that decision.

Not when he had looked up to see his sister’s relieved, tear-streaked face. It was the damn rogue she had embraced first, her eyes bright with joy.

Zaine didn’t regret it when they’d caught sight of the girl and her changes, inside and out. Couldn’t regret, seeing the look on her face when Thancred gave her a new name.

Perhaps, Zaine thought, he had let Minfilia go long ago without quite realizing it, his and Thancred’s contentious relationship one of habit and a lack of honest discussion, even as they stood side by side to keep their Scion family safe.

“Gil for your thoughts?” the man in question asked from right beside him, having silently joined Zaine, knowing he hated it when Thancred did that.

Zaine managed not to jump, only shrugged and smiled. “Thinking we had a helluva day and I’m going to be sore for a moon, even with our friends’ expert healing.”

“They’re certainly better at it than you are,” Thancred agreed.

“It was enough to keep you alive.”

“It was, and I am grateful. Though I wish it had not come with risk to yourself.”

“I’d do it all again—including the lecture from Y’shtola—in a heartbeat,” Zaine replied. Their sorceress had not been amused by the levels of aetheric drain both of them had committed.

“Brave man,” Thancred deadpanned. “Though I feel the same. Thank you, for having my back. Even if I haven’t always been as gracious about it as I could have been.”

“Thank you for always having mine. Even if I haven’t always been good about it, either.” Zaine looked at the Floodwall again. “It’s funny how much we’ve been pricks to each other, when it’s the last thing she’d have wanted.”

“Well, you are quite stubborn,” Thancred said, smiling.

“Says the most aurochs-headed man I know,” Zaine answered with his own grin.

“I suppose that’s better than what you usually call me; what was it? Hamsa-headed?”

“That too, but we’ll ignore that for now.”

They laughed, then winced, as not all of their injuries could be magically healed and the foray into the depths of the well hadn’t helped. They were both similarly attired in simple spare undershirts and trousers, the Scions having retired to Twine before returning to the Crystarium on the morrow—and their gear was in desperate need of cleaning and repair, only some of which could be done in the mining town.

“Talked to Ryne yet?” Zaine asked, trying to sound conversational. Her new name took no getting used to, fitting perfectly.

“Just finished; there was much to say. And now we both needed a bit of…Well.” Thancred shrugged.

“I can see that. But you and her’ll be all right.”

“I hope so.”

“Thancred, it’s been obvious you love that girl, even though you were a bloody idiot about how to show it for too long. And she adores you, even though she was too scared to say it—due to you being a hamsa-head.”

“Ah, there it is,” Thancred drawled. Yet they both remained relaxed, the interchange containing none of the tension and heat that even a day ago Zaine would have expected out of one or both of them.

They had left it in the sands with Ran’jit’s corpse, where it belonged.

“But,” Zaine continued. “So long as you remember how to use that silver tongue of yours to actually talk like a person to her, it’ll work out.”

“I do think we’re on our way.”

“There is one thing you ought to do tonight yet, though.”

Thancred raised a brow. “Oh?”

Zaine let out a breath, and then gestured to a nearby window, interior view blocked by thin curtains. “Go talk to Aeryn.”

The shift was subtle, but Thancred’s demeanor went blank in an attempt to disguise his feelings.

“I know you two were sneaking about like a couple of adolescents back in the Source,” Zaine said, holding up a hand to forestall Thancred’s protest. “And there’s been at least one rendezvous here in the First, unless I miss my guess about what you two got up to in Rak’tika.” Now Thancred looked away, not embarrassed, but not willing to look Zaine in the eye, either. “And there’s still much to do and a lot going on…”

The way Aeryn had gasped and clutched her chest after taking in this last Lightwarden’s aether was concerning. His mind went back to Y’shtola’s privately mentioned concerns, and Urianger’s recalcitrance.

“…But if this adventure has taught us anything, it's that we shouldn't keep putting off what needs to be said. And any fool can see how you two feel about one another. Waiting on it won’t make it easier—and the opportunity may slip by at all.”

“Speaking from experience?” Thancred’s gaze remained on Aeryn’s window.

“A little,” Zaine said. “When I found out five whole years had passed, and with everything happening…Minfilia and I decided to take it slowly, especially since it seemed we’d barely begun before Carteneau. We wanted to figure out where we stood after she’d lived so much more time, while I hadn’t. We were really only just sorting ourselves out again when…well, when the Banquet happened.” He shrugged. “And now here we are, where you’ve lived five whole years while no time’s passed for Aeryn, after you’d both barely got your heads out of your arses to begin with, and Twelve only know what tomorrow’ll bring.”

“Right.” Thancred took a breath and straightened “And you’re not going to be bothered if aught does happen between…us?” He forced the last word.

“‘Course I’ll be bothered; that’s my baby sister. And if you hurt her, once she’s through with you, I’ll beat down whatever’s left.”

Thancred laughed only a tinge nervously (and with another wince), his practiced suave demeanor holding a tide of doubts and concerns at bay. “I seem to recall a similar sentiment spoken between us before, if in reverse.”

“I never claimed to be original. You said it prettier though, sounded way more threatening.”

“Thank you, I do have a reputation to uphold.”

“In all honesty though…I just want her to be happy. You too; you both deserve it. Don’t you dare,” Zaine said, when Thancred immediately tried to argue. “You two are disgustingly cute together, especially when you think no one’s noticing, but it’s good for you. So go talk to her, cuz after all the shite you’ve pulled, it’s needed.”

“Very well,” Thancred said. “Assuming all is well between you and I; ‘twas my reason for coming out here, after all.”

“‘Less there’s something I don’t know about, I think we are good. Finally.”

Thancred smiled slightly, clapping a hand on Zaine’s arm as he stepped away. He paused and took a breath before heading inside. A few moments later, a shadow crossed Aeryn’s window as she moved to answer her door.

“I need a drink,” Zaine said, waiting until two shadows crossed the window again to go inside himself.

—

A bath almost had Aeryn feeling clean, and now she sat cross-legged on the narrow bed in the tiny room. There was no point sitting at the small square of a table to write; it and the chair were the only spaces available for her pack and other gear. So she had out her little lap board for sketching and writing in her journal.

More messy sketches tonight; words were proving difficult, though she had a few random, broken phrases thrown in. Notes to herself for when she was in a better mindset to properly record the long day’s events.

They ought to finally sit up for Minfilia, in the tradition of their people for a lost loved one. Not tonight; she was not going to be able to stay awake all night, nor was this room good for doing so. She needed space, and things to do, and to convince Zaine to begin with…

She had a feeling of someone nearby; nothing concrete, no sound, yet something caught the edge of her empathic senses. After a long wait, she just about gave it up as imagined when there was a tentative knock on the door.

“Yes?”

“It’s me,” Thancred’s voice was soft and further muffled by the old wood. “Might I come in?”

Aeryn set aside her journal as she unfolded and stood. It was a few short steps to unlock and open the door. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes, fine, I just wished to…talk.”

Her brow raised. “He really did beat the sense into you, didn’t he?” She stepped aside to admit him.

“Very funny,” Thancred replied dryly as he looked around. “One would think the Warrior of Darkness warranted a larger room.”

She wrinkled her nose at the title. “If I was sharing with Alisaie or Y’shtola, perhaps. But Alisaie’s rooming with Ryne, and Y’shtola and I decided ‘twould be best to have our own spaces, small as they are. I’m surprised this inn has so many rooms.”

“Likely from far more prosperous times; this building’s pre-Flood,” Thancred answered, sitting on the edge of the bed for lack of anywhere else. “But I didn’t come to speak of our accommodations.”

“You and Ryne have spoken?” Aeryn sat next to him.

He chuckled. “Aye, and we’ve come to an understanding, I believe, though she required some space to think on all that was said.”

Aeryn nodded. “Quite the day for all involved.”

They sat in silence for a breath, then both tried to speak at once, staring at each other for a blink before sheepishly chuckling. She knew her usual easy blush already crept across her cheeks.

“You first,” Thancred said.

“I’m sorry you couldn’t be there with us,” she said. “I wish we’d made certain of Ran’jit’s fate in the Ronkan ruins so that you could be.”

Thancred shook his head. “We had no way of knowing he had his own tricks to survive that fall. And perhaps…it worked better that I was not present. I never wanted to influence Ryne’s decision—though I hadn’t realized that no matter what I did, that’s exactly what I was doing.”

“But I know how much you wanted to see Minfilia again. I made sure she knew…though it seemed she did already.”

“I said my piece, lying there in the sands. And I am at peace with that. So please; think no more about it. I did what I had to, to ensure Ryne’s success. I have no regrets on that matter.” He frowned a little, as if wishing to continue but unsure how.

“Just one more thing then: Thank you. For letting Zaine stay.”

Thancred raised a brow. “He didn’t give much choice. I wish he could have gone with you, wish he had not taken such injuries. Yet I cannot regret that he stayed either.”

“I was scared for you both; I was afraid of what would happen if either of you tried Ran’jit alone. I…” she paused in thought. “I’m happy you’re here,” she finally said, quickly, not quite looking at him but smiling as she carefully covered his hand with her own.

He turned his palm up to grasp her hand, idly running his thumb along a thin scar. “I’m quite happy to be here as well,” he said quietly. “Alive…and in this room.”

Her blush was in her ears. “You um, wanted to say something a bit ago?”

He took a moment, holding her hand. “If I were to have…further regrets this day, Ryne is not the only one to whom I owed a conversation. I know we’ve…tried, and it did not go well.” She nodded and managed to not cringe at the memory of their argument in his Crystarium apartment. “But I cannot go longer without…speaking my mind.”

“Zaine put you up to this?” she tried to joke.

“More ‘strongly encouraged.’ A relief, really, given our own contentious history.”

“Are you two all right? Given…everything.”

“I believe so; I went to clear the air with him, and found it already so, strangely enough.”

Aeryn thought about how to ask her next question. “And…are we all right?” She wanted to wince.

“Well, that rather depends, doesn’t it?” He turned to face her, still holding her hand. “I’m no longer angry about that argument, and wish to apologize for not being more forthcoming about…a good number of things.”

“I ought to be the one apologizing, what I said was horrid.”

Thancred huffed out a laugh. “Not entirely unwarranted, and I know why. Nor was I terribly reassuring. I must say I do prefer the…discussion we had in Rak’tika.”

Her blush’s heat crawled all the way down her neck. “I appreciated the um. Reassurance there,” she said.

He lifted her hand, brushing his lips over her fingers. “It made me realize how very much I’d missed you. I thought I already knew, after years spent dreaming of your memory, as well dreams of seeing you again.” Her breath caught, unable to look away from those warm golden-brown eyes as they watched her. “You know,” he continued. “I wrote you letters.”

“What?”

“Just after the turn of the year, when Norvrandt would see the equivalent to your nameday. I knew time was not passing for you, yet there were so many things I did not risk forgetting. It gave me an excuse to put down a good many thoughts. Some feelings.” His free hand played with a lock of her long, loose black hair.

Aeryn’s heart was pounding. “What sort of feelings?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Ones I hesitated to name, but after today, and whatever’s happening with you and the Lightwardens…Well I should like to think I have learned my lessons.”

“Didn’t you once claim you were a terrible student?” she teased.

“Only when I did not care for the subject.” His hand cupped her cheek now. “But you I could study forever, in an attempt to learn every detail.”

“…Oh,” was all she could answer, her mouth suddenly dry. She ought to be able to say more than that, but her head was spinning and her pulse was rapid.

Thancred cleared his throat. “I…love you, Aeryn,” he said. “I am in love with you. I don’t expect aught in return,” he added quickly. “But I’m here, and I’m yours, if…if you want.”

In Aeryn’s mind, a puzzle piece clicked into place as a sensation she had been unable to define clarified. A feeling she had held close inside, sensing the same within him but afraid they had been simply reflecting one another—it was not a reflection, but a connection, and it had a name.

She leaned forward, pulling him to her for a kiss. He took a moment to relax, due to the surprise, but quickly recovered, arms around her, sighing into a closer embrace.

Aeryn reluctantly broke away, resting her cheek against his. “I love you, too,” she whispered. “I think for a while, I just didn’t realize it. Now that I have, all that I want is you here.”

Thancred let out a deep breath against her neck, a last level of tension melting as he held her. “Well, certainly less awkward that way,” he tried to joke, but emotion thickened his voice.

Aeryn couldn’t help a brief giggle. “Can you stay tonight?”

“If that is your wish. Though I’m afraid I’m not fully recovered.”

“That’s all right; just you being here is enough,” she replied as they shifted, until lying side by side on the narrow bed, holding one another close in assurance and comfort after the day’s events.

She recalled the first time they had simply held one another like this, talking until they had fallen asleep, in an officer’s bunk the night before the assault on Ala Mhigo. Thinking back, her brother had made some oblique comments the next day.

Aeryn grinned. “Although, if you don’t mind, I’ll still want to borrow your shirt briefly in the morning.”

—

Morning dawned clear over Amh Araeng, all pinks and golds before becoming blues. It was still cool, and most folks were yet in bed, the novelty of the night sky keeping many awake longer than usual the evening before.

And so Zaine found himself in the inn’s kitchen—with permission from the sleepy Ronso grandmother usually reigning over that space—to start the coffee and a simple breakfast for his comrades. They would have to set out to return to the Crystarium before long.

A familiar step caught his ear, and he braced himself. A moment later he had acquired an Aeryn backpack, her arms over his chest, legs hanging behind his, her toes not quite reaching the floor.

“I’m trying to cook y’know.”

“I just wanted to thank you,” Aeryn replied, way too close to his ear.

“For breakfast?” Zaine asked dryly.

“For last night.”

“Dunno what you mean, and don’t want to.”

Her arms tightened briefly in a hug, and she brushed a kiss on his cheek. “Well thanks anyroad.” She let go, landing lightly and turning to the coffee pot.

Zaine glanced her way, then looked again. She was preparing two mugs which was questionable enough, but what had truly caught his attention was the familiar shirt that certainly did not belong to her, hanging on her slim frame in a way it did not when he’d seen it worn by its broader-built owner the night before.

“Ugh,” Zaine grunted as Aeryn gave him a bright, sweet smile, before carrying both mugs back upstairs. Given how sore and achy he still felt this morning, could they truly have—

“No,” he said to himself. “Not thinking about that.”

Back to focusing on breakfast and what would come next once they returned to the Crystarium. There might even be a few changes, he thought with a glance at the stairs, before they considered the last Lightwarden.

And while he might take a brother’s prerogative to grouse about a certain change, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

—

((My usual canon divergence of "Ran'jit shoulda died at the trolley by Thancred's hand" is present; in mainline, Ran'jit's tactics are for 1 opponent, and Aeryn had helped Ryne with some magic that was incorporated into that special practice Cartridge. Here Ran'jit knows how to fight against two, but Zaine's presence both disrupts and makes up for the lack of Aeryn's aid in the cartridge.

That Zaine's here at all is a major divergence from my usual Aeryn WoL canon; mainline, Zaine doesn't come out the other side of Louisoix's spell, diverted by Hydaelyn and making a choice to aid the injured divinity directly. She chooses to send him back here instead of accepting his offer. With Zaine present, Aeryn gets to share the burdens and responsibility of being a WoL, so in some ways is lighter in mood and has more fun, though her imposter syndrome's worse, as she initially sees herself as second to Zaine for too long; it's only in ShB and EW that it becomes more apparent to her whose story this is (Zaine figured it out awhile ago).

The other major change to my usual story, is with Zaine to talk to, Aeryn also doesn't have her same regrets about Haurchefant, and here, the "I love you"s exchanged with Thancred comes earlier than in the main story (where it happens before facing Emet-Selch in Amaurot, though Thancred also says it in a letter after Mt Gulg). Zaine is a mediator and counselor at heart, and keeps the Scions grounded a lot of times in this AU.

Aeryn and Zaine just getting to be siblings has been described as "bittersweet" given his loss in the main wolverse. They're their own kind of bond, in more ways than one.

I have a whole outline of "Zaine Lives" up to 6.1. This is ridiculous. I have enough to write for my main WoLverse. Darn blorbos.))

#Final Fantasy XIV #Lyn Writing #YOTP 2023 #Shadowbringers #Thancred Waters #Thancred x WoL #wolcred #shippy nonsense #Zaine Striker #Aeryn Striker #Lyn Edits #Minor Canon Divergence #Wolverse AU #I need to just accept I've lost control to these characters

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where-is-francis · 2 years

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Eddie Munson x Goth!NonBinary!Reader

Prompt: Eddie has slowly but surely become obsessed with your makeup routine. Now it’s time for him to join the fun.

Request: Yes but I already had it in the works. Just made me get it finished. For @sprizzaic

Pronouns: They/Them [fem aligned readers DNI]

A/N: I had this idea before but when I saw this post I knew I absolutely HAD to write something for it. The Eddie brainrot is real, he’s all I can think about. Also I’m aware that a lot of trad goth makeup used straight up white foundation but goth is for every complexion so you’re not wearing that in this fic. :)

TW: Nothing!

The sun was beating down in the summer heat of Hawkins as you sat in Eddie’s trailer. A cracked mirror before you presented your reflection; bare faced and fresh from the shower. Mixes of your clothes and his flooded the carpeted floor, only parting in certain instances to make a path. A smile passed your lips as you watched your boyfriend lazily strum his guitar, relaxing on the bed.

Both of you were excited for the night. Your plans consisted of going to a concert in Indianapolis, then grabbing some late night pizza, and crashing in the back of his van before driving back home in the morning. It wasn’t going to be cheap, but he always made it work for you.

Makeup sponges and wipes littered the small table you sat at, using some of Eddie’s (most likely) dirty shirts as a cushion. You began to start your makeup — although you never needed a reason like a concert to go out with black eyeshadow.

Your boyfriend’s gaze followed as you focused, messily applying some foundation. He usually wondered how you always seemed to know what you’re doing, just having a sense of where to put everything. Eddie moved his guitar to your side of the slightly-made bed and readjusted, his torso now near the footboard.

His reflection in the smudged mirror made you smile. “You act like you haven’t seen me do this about half a million times.”

“I know, but I like it. Seeing the process and everything.”

He smiled when you rolled your eyes, his hand slowly creeping up your back to make swirls and outlines in the wet hair that ran down your neck. You had been looking forward to the concert forever, and now it was finally time.

He watched as you focused on your makeup again, using your fingertips to pack on some gray and black eyeshadow. The dark colors in the sockets made the whites of your eyes seem a bit more vibrant. A familiar feeling of slightly rough skin reached the back of your neck as your partner moved the damp hair aside.

“Man, come on, I gotta look good for the concert. I gotta focus.” You laughed.

He smiled, stretching off the bed to rest his head against yours. You found his arms beginning to coil around your shoulders, like a snake slowly beginning to strangle its prey. But this was more genuine, more loving. Something about the way the sunlight hit your face during golden hour was like out of a painting. Through all of the excitement, it was still nice to have something peaceful.

“You always look good. So damn good. It’s, like, I’ve never seen somebody as good as you when it comes to all of this.” He mused to your reflection.

Despite the distraction of your wonderful ‘helper’, you continued on. A black liner pencil sketched out the design of your eyebrows before being filled with mascara to match; blending in the hair to make it seamless. You used the wedge to pick up some more color for the shadows in your cheeks. The way your pink tinted lips were practically begging for a quick peck, which was always a wish granted.

Time and practice had brought the skill of being ready in under half an hour. With the final touches, you took a last look at the now finished makeup.

A smile passed Eddie’s lips as he began kissing at your neck and jawline, making obnoxious kissing noises in your ear as he did so. Though a regular occurrence, you couldn’t help but laugh and take in the moment. Mixes of music and whatever Wayne had on the tv flooded your senses, along with the ever present hint of weed.

It was perfect.

Your boyfriend’s soft brown eyes began to glaze over in thought, his nose pushed into your neck.

“Eddie Munson, are you getting shy all of a sudden?” The taunt in your voice drove him crazy.

Instead, he just pulled away and returned to his spot on the unkempt bed. Said mattress groaned under the added weight as you climbed over top of the main occupant, straddling him in the process. Droplets of water ran down your shoulders, some falling on the sheets, others falling on Eddie.

His calloused fingers tangled in the damp waves of your hair as they hung over him. “You look beautiful,”

“Mhm, is that why you’re so shy all of a sudden?”

“I’m not shy.”

An overdrawn jet black eyebrow was raised at his statement, causing him to laugh. The sun emanated from behind your silhouette, making you look like the closest resemblance he’d ever seen to an angel. Sun streaks got caught in his eyes as he sat up, one hand on the small of your back as he did so.

If this is what angels looked like, maybe heaven wasn’t all that bad.

“Could you maybe… I mean — if you want — do something for me? I’ve never really… worn makeup before.”

He could’ve sworn your eyes became more vibrant in the moment.

“Of course,”

Your position over his lap didn’t change, save for grabbing the makeup. There wasn’t much, most of it looking beat to hell after continual uses over the year. In the city, you’d have to get more; Hawkins certainly didn’t have much — save for the Clinique counters in the mall.

Eddie tried not to grin as you began to started to work, even after telling him it would mess it up. Every product you used had him curious, asking what it was for.

“Are you doing the same look on me? Do I have to paint my face white? What about my eyebrows? Wait — you’re not going to shave them, are you?”

Needless to say, it was like trying to do face paint on a child at first. The longer it went on, he found himself melting into your words and touch. It was gentle and precise, like most other things you did. Influences from his own favorite bands gave you ideas in how to shape the liner.

He was completely in love.

How you commented on his bone structure and managed to make it sound like poetry, like something he could grow to love about himself. Sweet honey words mixed with music, filling his senses: an overdose on his partner.

“Does it look good?”

“Why don’t you see for yourself?”

Eddie stood as you moved, finding his way to the mirror and taking everything in. The inner corners of the liner trailed the sides of his nose in the resemblance of a crow, as the outer edges flicked in similarity to a bat wing. His eyebrows were more arched and precise, jet black to match, with a ring of gray smoke underneath. He was at a loss for words.

“Do you like it?”

Loud claps and a few fist pumps were the only response you got. His smile couldn’t be toned down — not around you. Your arms around him just made him smile more as he pressed his head against yours. The warm breaths fanned across your face. For what seemed like an eternity, a sensation of hope formed that he would say it.

“I love you. I love you, (Y/N) (L/N).” He pressed into your lips.

“I love you too, Eddie.”

Like my work? It means a lot. Reblogs instead of likes — it helps people find my work. I post male/enby reader content so check my blog for more. 💕

#x male reader #x gender neutral reader #x gn reader #x m reader #stranger things x gender neutral reader #stranger things x male reader #Eddie Munson x male reader #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #jaws stranger things #x nonbinary reader #Eddie Munson x non binary reader

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anonymousewrites · 6 months

Text

Of Two Worlds (Book 3) Chapter Five

Fushiguro Megumi x Half-Curse! Reader

Chapter Five: Combat

Summary: (Y/N) and Megumi face Reggie and his men.

(Y/N) pivoted the moment she sensed cursed energy behind her. The slightest whisp set off alarm bells in her mind. The attacker behind her met a dagger to the shoulder before he could sink his claws into her. She shifted and pulled him over her shoulder, slamming him through the window before he could think.

“Nue,” said Megumi calmly, perfectly in sync with (Y/N).

The large bird-like shikigami slammed down on the man and dragged him to the ground below. Remi’s eyes widened as she looked down at the man’s unconscious body below.

“Hey.” Megumi’s glanced at Remi, black eyes narrowing. “Don’t ever let me see you again.”

Remi’s eyes widened in fear, and she stepped back.

“Leave,” said (Y/N) sharply, and Remi turned tail and ran.

Megumi’s wolf shikigami yelped suddenly as Reggie slammed two kitchen knives through its snout.

“Oh, I get it,” said Reggie. “You were holding back. You want our points, so you can’t kill us. But…if you don’t fight to kill, you’ll wind up dead.”

He hasn’t realized it’s entirely possible we’ve killed already. In fact, I have, thought (Y/N).

She tensed and looked to the side as a strange shadow fell across the room. A single eyeball floated in the air beside the window.

Boom!

It exploded, and (Y/N) and Megumi shot back one direction while Reggie went the other to dodged the blast. As soon as the pair cleared the smoke as it lingered, a scorpion tail struck them. (Y/N) blocked it, and Megumi grabbed Remi’s ponytail and flung her to the ground.

“We warned you,” said (Y/N).

“Had enough?” demanded Megumi as Remi yelped.

A flutter of papers caught their attention. Slips of paper smelling distinctly landed on their clothes.

Gasoline, thought (Y/N).

For a moment, her daggers turned to light and reformed into fans. With a quick flick of her wrists, a gust of air pushed the papers away as they melted to liquid.

“Toss!” shouted a man that hung from a balcony above. He ripped out a tooth and threw it at them. It exploded and ignited the gasoline.

(Y/N) and Megumi sprung into another room, and Remi was thrown in by the blast with them. Megumi braced the door closed.

“Do you understand now?” said Megumi, looking at Remi’s body. “They’ll never protect you. If you get that, then get lost.”

Schick!

(Y/N) coughed as pushed away from Remi’s scorpion tail as it impaled her side.

“You need to stop this,” said Megumi pushing the tail back and pulling (Y/N) to safety.

“Then say it…” said Remi. “Reggie said it!” She looked up desperately. “Say you’ll protect me! And that you like me! You gotta say it!”

(Y/N) blinked. She really couldn’t understand Remi, but she knew it was pitiable how pathetic Remi was.

“So you’re like that?” said Megumi, eyes cold. “Trash who cares more about words than deeds.” The statement was dripping in disdain and apathy. Remi didn’t matter at all to Megumi.

(Y/N) found that she couldn’t summon any feelings at all, either. Not that that was particularly unusual.

“Not bad back there.” (Y/N) and Megumi turned to find the man with the claws and climbed back up the building. “But you’re in rough shape.” Indeed, the pair had burns and cuts. “It wasn’t easy clambering up here.”

“Take the stairs,” said (Y/N).

Megumi took the man’s momentary distraction and roundhouse-kicked his face. The man blocked and returned the attack, but Megumi ducked and formed a hand sign.

“Max Elephant!” he said.

The moment his elephant shikigami materialized and crushed the room, he grabbed (Y/N) and leapt into the air. Nue caught them both and flew them above the man, also in the air. Before he could orient himself, Megumi slammed his sword through his head. As the man hit the roof and Megumi landed with (Y/N), he briefly considered his actions. And then he stabbed down again.

“You have won five points,” said Megumi’s kogane.

Megumi turned away from the body, blood and soot on his face, and gazed at (Y/N). For a moment, nerves flashed across his face.

“There are three more,” said (Y/N).

Megumi relaxed. (Y/N) didn’t care about the violence. He supposed he should be concerned about that, but all he could feel was glad. It was still him and (Y/N), no matter what.

“Aw, what a waste of points,” sighed Reggie as he and the man with explosive body parts floated down with umbrellas. “Killed before even using his Cursed Technique…appalling.”

It seemed Remi really had fled. Still, now it was two versus two, and Megumi and (Y/N) were injured. Whatever (Y/N)’s ability to use Reverse Cursed Technique had been, it wasn’t activating at the moment, leaving them both at risk.

The man with explosions spat a tooth at them, and (Y/N) switched to her fans and blew them back before the explosion could harm them.

“I’ll handle him,” said (Y/N). “You take Reggie.”

Reggie was clearly the more dangerous, but (Y/N) could take more damage than Megumi, so she would take on the explosives.

“Right,” said Megumi.

They sprung into action, and their opponents did the same. Max Elephant nearly crushed Reggie, but he leapt out of the way to another rooftop, and Megumi chased after him. The explosive man (Bomber was the only name (Y/N) could think of) shot his eye at her, and she pushed herself to the side before the explosion burnt her.

(Y/N) landed lightly and carefully watched Bomber.

“Fans and daggers?” he grinned. “What a weak technique.”

(Y/N) cracked a tiny smirk. Bomber faltered. The moment her expressionless face changed, something inhuman entered her gaze.

“My technique is the Lunar Cycle.” The words left her tongue smoothly, and as her explanation of her technique began, her curse marks lit up. The exchange of information and exposure caused her power to flare. “I can summon various weapons depending on which phase of the moon I call forward. My weaknesses are it takes time to summon them, and if destroyed, they take time to reform. My strengths…I will show you.” (Y/N)’s power doubled as she allowed Bomber to hear the entirety of her technique.

And so she moved like moonlight at him.

Her curse marks blazed to life, and her fans lit with flames of silver. Bomber spat teeth at her, but she batted them away and leapt around with ease. Explosions rocked her and burnt her skin, but the redoubled resilience of her body and weapons meant that she could keep fighting.

Bomber popped out an eye for a powerful explosion, and (Y/N) was thrown upwards. Midair, she reoriented, but as she did, Bomber grabbed his eye again and threw it at her, trying to keep her from getting to him. The second explosion knocked her to the ground, and (Y/N) gritted her teeth as the not-completely-healed injuries from earlier reared their heads.

She was not broken, though. The moment Bomber threw a handful of teeth, (Y/N) forced herself to move. She pushed herself off the ground and sprung into the air with her hands. The explosions jolted her through the air, and she snapped her fans. The flames coursed across the ground propelled her forward.

Bomber was faced with her icy fire and her sharp fans all in one moment. The moment he ducked as she raked her war fans at him, the flames touched him, and he let out a cry and reared back as the pure freeze ate at his skin. He stumbled up, and (Y/N) was behind him, waiting. She closed her fans, twisted them around him, and threw him over her shoulder. He hit the ground, (Y/N) opened her fans, and she slid them over his throat. He let out a sharp cough, and blood bubbled in his neck. He was still.

“You have won five points,” said (Y/N)’s kogane, but she was already turned away and heading for the direction Megumi and Reggie had gone. Bomber was an afterthought.

(Y/N) leapt from roof to roof until she found a large hole in the roof of a gymnasium. Beneath her, she could see a shell from a domain surrounding Megumi and Reggie. (Y/N) could feel in her very soul that it was Megumi’s. It felt like him.

(Y/N) crouched and tensed as the domain broke open to reveal a falling house nearly crushing Megumi. Max Elephant, pushing down on Reggie, disappeared as Megumi’s concentration broke in an effort to avoid being crushed himself.

“Now your receipts are too wet to use,” said Megumi, coughing up water from the pool.

“Are you sure about that?” said Reggie, grinning through his own tiredness. “After all, I bet you’re all out of shikigami, and the ink isn’t all gone for me!” He raised a hand, and Megumi tensed, having nothing to defend himself.

A dagger nearly impaled Reggie’s hand, and his attention snapped upwards. He could see (Y/N) standing victorious above him. Another of his allies was gone. He was alone. He gritted his teeth.

“So, you killed Iori,” said Reggie.

“Yes,” said (Y/N), not bothering to lie.

“Tch. And I thought he was strong,” said Reggie.

“Not as strong as me,” said (Y/N). It was not bragging; it was a fact. And that made it all the more chilling as (Y/N) stared down at Reggie with glowing curse marks.

“Maybe not. But I am stronger,” said Reggie, and he snapped his fingers.

A bus appeared above (Y/N), distorted slightly as the ink on Reggie’s receipts dripped away. She jumped into the air to dodge it, and she fell through the hole of the gymnasium, right over the water. Reggie grinned at her fall as Megumi’s eyes widened and he fumbled to try to summon a shikigami.

He didn’t need to worry as (Y/N) put her pointer finger and thumb into circles and crossed them.

“Domain Expansion,” she said calmly as she fell. Reggie and Megumi’s eyes widened as her eyes turned silver. “Solar Eclipse.”

The opening in the rooftop turned to a night sky. The edges of the sun blazed helplessly behind a dark moon. The night sky spread into the space as (Y/N)’s domain encased them all in shadows and the faint lights of stars. Megumi and Reggie sank into the endless night, and while Reggie struggled and panicked against the strange feeling of hanging in nothingness, Megumi felt calm. This was (Y/N), her soul, surrounding him. He could never be in harm’s way with her.

(Y/N) landed from her fall on chair of darkness, barely perceptible. She had no time to contemplate it, though, and stood, facing Reggie.

“You have no idea what strength is.”

And Reggie and Megumi had no choice but to believe it as they stared at her, seemingly suspended in the night sky above them. The eclipse hung behind her, and she looked down at them with eyes and curse marks of pure moonlight.

Even exhausted, still healing, bruised and burnt, she stood in strength that Reggie would never attain and could never hope to grasp.

(Y/N) raised a hand and smirked ever-so-slightly. Reggie’s eyes widened in fear.

Snap!

Rays of moonlight sliced through Reggie, and his blood decorated the night sky around him. His body fell, and (Y/N)’s domain melted away to leave her and Megumi standing while Reggie’s corpse stained the pool tiles below him.

“You have won five points!” said (Y/N)’s kogane.

(Y/N) ignored it and turned to Megumi, eyes still blazing. But instead of cold disdain, now they contained worry. “Are you alright, Megumi?” she asked.

He nodded sharply, but they both knew he was lying. (Y/N) would be lying too if he asked her the same. They were both exhausted, having used a lot of cursed energy and large moves in a short span of time. Their injuries weighed on them.

But neither could stop now. Not when they’d come so far.

“Remi is still alive,” said Megumi. “Kuro is tracking her.” He was tired after keeping his wolf shikigami out for so long, but this fight needed to be finished.

He turned and left the pool with (Y/N) right behind him, watching him limp with worry. It wasn’t long until they saw Remi running through the alley beside the gymnasium. She tripped and fell, and Kuro loomed over her. Remi’s eyes widened in pure fear, and she backed up as the black mass growled down at her.

(Y/N) cocked her head to the side. “…Megumi.”

He paused and looked back at her.

“She’s not worth it.”

Megumi stared at (Y/N) for a moment, and then Kuro disappeared into the shadows. (Y/N) made eye-contact with Remi, and she stared at her in awe. That awe quickly disappeared as she saw (Y/N)’s expressionless gaze. It was neither mercy nor kindness that saved Remi. It was that (Y/N) refused to let Megumi do something he’d regret. Remi was no threat. She was a person with no purpose or understanding of herself.

But Remi couldn’t even understand that. All she saw was indifference, and she feared it. She fled the alley.

“(Y/N)…” murmured Megumi, and he stepped towards her. She had stopped him from losing himself. It was almost funny how the half-human was the one to protect his own humanity. For a moment, he opened his mouth. And then he crumpled to the ground in exhaustion.

(Y/N) caught him and sank to her knees as she supported him. She tried to will whatever had created the Reverse Cursed Technique to come to her to show itself again. But nothing came, and her own energy was depleted.

A shadow fell over her, and (Y/N) looked up. Her eyes widened.

A person her age floated above her on dove wings with a halo illuminating their form. They smiled at (Y/N) and Megumi, and (Y/N) understood who they were. The Angel.

“Let me help you,” they said, a voice of pure kindness, melodic with emotion.

“I can’t trust you,” said (Y/N), voice the opposite, flat.

“You can,” said the Angel. Honesty seemed to reverberate with their voice.

“…Hurt him, and you’ll regret it,” said (Y/N). No matter how legendary the Angel was, (Y/N) would make them pay for anything that happened to Megumi if they lied. For Megumi, (Y/N) was willing to do anything.

And then (Y/N) passed out as exhaustion drained her.

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withclawandvine · 2 years

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what we pretend to be, ii

Summary: Azriel was a veteran spy, well suited to the sneaking and solitude that comes with a life in the shadows. He was good at it. He wasn’t good at undercover missions, so he couldn’t hide his shock when new recruit and undercover specialist Elain Archeron was already seated at the conference table, looking beautiful as ever. And then it was dropped on them like a bomb: Azriel and Elain would be sent to the suburbs, posing as a married couple to gather intel on a suspicious man who, according to reports, was in communication with notorious arms dealer, Koschei Sokolov.

Author’s note: chapter 2 in the same month as chapter 1 !! this has gotta be some kind of record for me. please don’t get used to this kind of speed lmao but do enjoy and tell me what you think !! (:

Tags: SFW, undercover au, fake married

Word count: 3.4k

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42105033

When Elain met Azriel outside her building, he was leaning against the door of a black SUV, somehow looking more exhausted than she felt. She’d been at her kitchen table with her notebook, writing down things she and Azriel would need to know about each other and the details of their cover story they had to hammer out in the car from the minute she got home until the birds started chirping. The circles under his eyes were dark enough to shift her concerns from the success of their mission to surviving long enough to even start it. Surviving the six-lane traffic out of the city.

“Want me to drive?” She offered, only belatedly realizing she’d said this in lieu of a greeting, and winced a little at her own lack of tact. So much for the charm Rhysand was boasting about yesterday.

Azriel scrubbed the back of his neck, “That bad, huh?”

“You’ve looked better,” she admitted. And it was ridiculous that it was true, because even with dark circles and the grayish tint to his skin, Azriel was beautiful. He looked like the romantic hero in a gothic novel—tragically handsome in that haunted sort of way.

“If we’re going to assign tasks based on which one of us looks better, you’ll be doing an awful lot of work.”

Elain was familiar with compliments; she’d been told she was pretty a thousand different ways by a thousand different people. But rarely were their sentiments so artfully delivered, and rarely did it make her heart trip over its next few beats.

She knew she was blushing. Not the pink-tint she could call to the surface when she wanted to appear demure, or even the warmth that wrapped around her when she was at the center of attention. This was a vibrant burst of color that felt more like a sunburn.

“Well,” she said, starting for the passenger side abruptly, hoping Azriel hadn’t already seen it. “If you insist.”

Chuckling a little to himself, Azriel jogged ahead of her and opened the door, “That didn’t take much convincing.”

He held the door open over her head, looking down at her with undisguised amusement.

“I don’t like to argue.”

If her face had been burning before, this was an inferno—a natural disaster worth of news coverage. In the last five minutes alone, Elain had lost control of both her body and her words, or perhaps, she thought, her mind. Her response had been too quick and too honest. Vulnerable. So she made herself smile as she added, with a conspiratorial wink, “It’s why you married me.”

If Azriel had noticed her scrambling, he didn’t show it. But Elain knew better than to be comforted by a spy’s lack of reaction, or deceived by their neutrality. She was a master of it herself—or so she’d thought.

While Azriel put her duffle in the back with his own bag, Elain closed her eyes and took three slow, deep breaths to reset herself. The jostle of the closing trunk pulled her back into the present. When she glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror, she was pleased to see that her face was back to its natural color and her expression was as blandly pleasant as ever. A reflection she recognized.

Elain alternated between watching the traffic and watching Azriel weave through it. Neither of them had uttered a word for miles and while she knew that Azriel was a quiet man, this was the kind of silence that was meant for mausoleums. The kind of silence that made her feel like she was shouting when she finally broke it, “Nervous?”

Azriel shrugged, as if it were nothing. But she could see the tension in the lines of his body. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her watch him. Finally, he relented, “I’ve never done this type of spywork.”

“It’s not that different,” she promised. Pushing forward at the sight of his skeptical frown, “You just… have to be someone else when you do it.”

“Thank you, Elain. That changes everything.” Azriel’s response was dry, “I have no idea what I was so concerned about.”

“You’re welcome, smart ass.”

“I’m serious, though,” Elain continued. “As soon as we get out of this car, we’re not Elain Archeron and Azriel Chazen. Even when we’re alone, don’t call me Elain—they really did you a favor with these aliases, by the way—that’s just inviting a slip-up. But you can call me El or Ellie, if that’s easier. It’ll just seem like a cute name you have for me.”

A smirk pulled at Azriel’s lips, “And what cute name do you have for me?”

Elain considered, looking at his profile as he drove. His white t-shirt was wrinkled, and apparently been washed so many times it was nearly translucent. She knew just by looking at it that it was the softest shirt in the world. Buttery sunlight warmed his skin, contrasting his fluffy, unstyled hair. It was usually so neat, but now it looked like it was begging for fingers to run through it. Her own twitched in her lap, like they were ready to oblige.

“You look like a ‘baby’ to me,” she mused, trying not to smile as the tips of his ears turned pink. Yeah, she thought, definitely baby.

“So…” Azriel deflected, “How did we meet?”

Elain withdrew her notebook from the bag at her feet, frowning a little as her bleary eyes struggled to decipher the frenzied scrawl.

“I didn’t get quite that far,” she said. There wasn’t any provided information on Eleanor’s undergraduate degree or the program she was enrolled in, so she had to pick something she knew enough about to fill a conversation if someone asked. She settled on art history—more specifically, landscape architecture. Which did admittedly send her down a rabbit hole of articles about the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. “But according to Eleanor’s student I.D. it looks like I’ll be starting my second year of grad school in the fall. What do you do?”

“Information security manager.” Azriel answered. “They make enough to afford this kind of neighborhood, even as the sole income. Some of our surveillance equipment is pretty high tech, and I’ve snooped around enough databases to fake my way through a conversation about securing them. Offering to help with computer trouble is an easy way into someone’s house. And I figured I could always call Dec if I get in over my head.”

As he spoke, Elain scribbled the job description in her notebook, as well as the details he offered about the company that supposedly employed him. Even though she figured that it would be easy enough to play up her own lack of understanding in the field to avoid probing questions. Eleanor was an academic, not a tech whiz.

“How’d I do?”

Elain put down her pen and looked at Azriel. He was already glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, but once he had her attention, his eyes flicked forward again. Skittish, almost. He really was nervous about this.

“Great,” She answered honestly. He’d clearly put a lot of thought into his decision, and had solved the puzzle of how they could afford such a nice house. The only problem was that their backstories were more different than she’d like. “But I was kinda hoping you’d be a professor.”

Azriel made a choking sound and she cackled at the look on his face, “I just mean it would be an easy, boring story to tell when people ask how we met.”

“What part of me being your professor would be boring?”

Now she was really laughing. “Not my professor, obviously. Just a professor, with an office near one of my classes.” She caught his eye, and raised her brows, teasing, Unless that’s something y— ”

“Definitely not,” Azriel’s ears were blazing again. She hoped they only did that when he was embarrassed, and wouldn’t prove to be some kind of tell.

“Fine,” Elain waved her hand flippantly. “You win. How do you think we met?”

“Well, if you did undergrad in the city, we could’ve met there…maybe you worked part-time at the coffee shop near my building?” Azriel smiled a little with the idea, and it felt as though he was sharing a secret instead of a suggestion.

Elain found herself smiling back, her voice light and teasing, “And you managed to fall for me in those little interactions?”

He took his eyes off the road, looking right at her, “Those few minutes were the best parts of my day.”

“But you never let me in on that little secret,” she said, sighing wistfully. “After a few months I got tired of waiting for you to make a move and wrote my phone number on your cup.”

The rest of the story flowed easily: Alex unofficially moved into Eleanor’s tiny studio because his own (much nicer) apartment was cold and lifeless in comparison. He carried that ring around for months before he got the nerve to pop the question. Alex convinced the company to let him work remotely so Eleanor could go to school. But he’ll have to travel the hour back into the city for the occasional meeting.

“That way if we uncover anything happening outside the neighborhood, I have an excuse to go check it out,” Azriel finished.

Elain finished jotting down the highlights of their story then flipped her notebook shut. “Alright. Now that all that’s settled, what are some real things I need to know about you?”

Azriel was quiet for a moment, contemplating. “I’m extremely lactose intolerant.”

“And an oversharer.”

Azriel rolled his eyes good-naturedly, “Being vague is in our job description.”

Elain nodded. She’d locked some parts of herself away for so long, she was starting to doubt their existence. But then, she’d started doing that long before she joined the agency. Sometimes, the only thing Elain knew about herself was that she didn’t know anything about herself. She never really had, despite her best efforts. But there was only so many times she could cut her own bangs and replace her entire wardrobe. By the time Elain was in college, she’d had enough of introspection and fruitless attempts at self-discovery. She stopped fighting it, and allowed the thing that had gotten her overlooked by her family and dumped by her high school boyfriend to become a strength.

Being boring had saved her life on more than one occasion. She was forgettable and malleable and she used it to gain information that would save countless others.

“And so is being alone,” she said. That’s what happened when people were meant to forget you. “But obviously that’s not the case anymore. We’re in this together, right? So from now on, let’s be vague with everyone but each other. I promise to take all your secrets—especially the potentially ruinous ones, like your sensitive tummy—to my grave.”

“I’m going to pretend those were your vows.”

“I’m going to pretend they made you cry.”

Azriel swiped his thumb under a perfectly dry eye.

“Honestly,” Elain started, “If I were a guest at that wedding, it would probably still make me cry. I’m a huge sap.”

“Noted,” Azriel nodded, looking every bit as serious as he had been in the conference room yesterday. As if she’d given him a crucial detail of a case, not a personal anecdote. “Anything else I should know?”

She told him that he should never let her have more than two glasses of wine, and that reds gave her a splitting headache. She’d been mostly plant-based since high school, so the dairy thing wouldn’t be a problem. She was a morning person, often rising with the sun. She never learned how to swim.

Elain turned to Azriel, tilting her head expectantly.

“I’m an early riser, too. I was raised Jewish.” There was a long enough pause for Elain to think that was all he was willing to give, but then Azriel scrubbed the back of his neck with an anxious hand, and added, “And I don’t really do great in tight spaces.”

Elain had about a dozen follow-up questions. She could tell there was something more, that it wasn’t a simple phobia—if there ever was such a thing. If the specifics became important, he would tell her. Until then, there was no reason for her to test the limits of the trust Azriel was putting in her. The fingers that had been kneading his neck raked through his hair, making it stand on end. While his words hadn’t told her much, this uninhibited body language was more than she’d ever seen from him before. Azriel was a highly composed man with an almost otherworldly stillness about him, but now he was letting himself act on his impulses, and letting her see it. A slow unraveling.

In that moment, it occurred to Elain that after just one hour in a car, she might’ve known Azriel Chazen better than anyone else. She was unwillingly thrilled by the notion, the thought accompanied by a fluttering in her chest. The lightness at odds with the anxiety roiling in her stomach as the SUV eased through the wrought iron gates of their new neighborhood.

It was midmorning on a Saturday, and there were plenty of people milling about—walking their dogs, tending to flowerbeds, chatting with each other across their lawns.

“It feels like they’re already watching us,” Azriel whispered, as if it were possible that they were already listening, too.

“Because they are,” Elain said, eyes focused on the manicured finger pointing at their passing vehicle, the curious eyes following the gesture. “Tiberian said it’s a tight-knit community. Word spreads fast.”

Which, so long as they were never the ones to slip up, was a good thing.

It was obvious which house was theirs. The pyramid of boxes in the front lawn was stacked high, and there was a trio of men navigating a large, plush sofa around it.

Azriel killed the engine, but made no move to get out, instead turning to her as if waiting for her direction. She smiled in a way she hoped conveyed optimism, “Are you ready?”

His returning smile was sly, “What happens if I say no?”

“Galkin gives himself and Koschei up and we return to HQ as decorated heroes.”

“Well, in that case…”

“Come one, honey,” Elain needled. “Don’t be like that.”

As he let himself out of the SUV, Azriel muttered, “I thought I was ‘baby,’” while shooting her a mockingly accusatory look.

He shut the door behind himself, cutting off her sharp laugh, and made his way around to help her out. As soon as she’d zipped her notebook into the bag, Azriel was lifting it ont one shoulder. He was too broad for the strap to fit properly, and had to hold it in place with his hand. The other, he held out to her.

Even after he’d guided her onto the driveway, Azriel did not let go of Elain’s hand.

“Just in time!” a mover called, waving them over. He turned to the guys hauling the sofa and gestured for them to set it down. “You can show us where you want the couch.”

As they crossed the lawn to meet him, Azriel’s stride was stiff and awkward, and his arm didn’t swing with it. Elain squeezed his hand, trying to offer silent reassurance. Azriel didn’t relax, but his fingers pulsed lightly around hers.

“Mornin’ Mr. and Mrs. Price,” the mover greeted with an easy grin. To his credit, Azriel didn’t flinch at the unfamiliar name. Although, flinching required movement, and Azriel was still as good as frozen at her side.

Elain flooded her smile with enough warmth to distract from her partner’s frigid demeanor, “Hi! Thank you so much for helping with all of this.”

“All in a day’s work,” he waved her off, then nodded to his crew, a sign they needed to get back to it. “Mind following ‘em in with that?”

The rest of the day passed in a blur of directing movers, sorting boxes, putting big pieces of furniture in strategic locations, and pretending she wasn’t looking at it all with fresh eyes while they still had an audience. But once they were alone, they took their time accessing everything that had been chosen for them. The couch was much more comfortable than it looked, and their knife set was professional grade. The few decorations were simple and sophisticated, and waiting in a pile on the dining room table.

Yesterday’s photos waited at the top of a box labeled living room decorations. They came in various sizes in an eclectic collection of frames. A few of them looked vintage, which made Elain love the black and white pictures even more. Not for the first time in her career, she was amazed by the efficiency of the team that surrounded and supported her. To have everything staged, edited, and packaged so quickly was impressive beyond words. Especially considering how perfect they looked, lined up in front of where Elain and Azriel sat on the floor.

While Elain been skeptical at first, the pictures and the sweet story they’d crafted around them were perfect. She brought one up to her face, her nose nearly brushing the glass, looking for some kind of glitch—a wiggly waistline, mismatched shadows, or anything else that might indicate that she and Azriel weren’t really about to kiss inside an elevator at city hall.

All she saw was a stolen moment, cheeky and spontaneous—her ankle peeking out from the slit in her dress to hook around Azriel’s calf, supported by a big hand on her thigh as she reeled him in by his tie. There was a slight blurring effect on it, making it look as though whoever had taken the picture had done so without a second to lose, the chrome door encroaching on them.

In reality, the staging had been almost clinical, and had taken the longest to get right. By the end, small of her back had been sore from leaning against the railing of the creaky maintenance elevator, and there was a pained look on Azriel’s face, clearly exhausted from the fussing and readjusting and being at the center of attention for so long.

She set the picture back down with the others, trying not to think about the warmth of his skin, how his hand had felt against her cheek at the beginning of the session, his thumb smoothing over one of her laugh lines. His eyes had flickered around the room, until they were forehead to forehead and he didn’t have anywhere else to look. In that moment, she had thought that he had the loveliest eyes she’d ever seen, with rivers of green running through the topaz, framed by dark lashes almost as lush as the false ones glued to her lids.

Elain reached across Azriel to get a better look at the smallest picture. She could see that it was the back of her head and the slope of her shoulder framing Azriel’s face. It took her a second to place it as the moment he’d turned round to see her in the dress. He seemed to be caught in the middle of a breath, his lips parted slightly. But it was his eyes that kept her staring at the frame in her hands.

Even through the black and white filter, his eyes glowed warmly. For someone who claimed he wasn’t cut out for this kind of thing, Azriel was remarkably good at it.

Azriel, noticing her attentions, followed her gaze and flushed, “Why would they send that one? It doesn’t fit the story.”

Because it’s convincing, Elain thought, struggling to reconcile the photograph with the moment it was taken. Surrounded by sickly green sheets, and warmed by studio lights. It must be those lights, making his eyes shine like that.

She just shrugged and said mildly, “I like it.”

The look Azriel gave her was an interesting blend of shy and suspicious, so she added pragmatically, “It can go on my nightstand.”

She set it aside, along with the large print of the almost-kiss, to keep in the bedroom.

They used a level and a pencil to sketch out where they wanted the other three, and hung them up carefully. When the last picture—an artsy snapshot of Elain pulling Azriel by the hand up the polished courthouse stairs—was in place, they stepped back together, shoulder to shoulder, heads tilted thoughtfully.

Elain was about to congratulate them on a job well done when the doorbell rang.

#my writing #elriel #elain x azriel #elriel fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #acotar #what we pretend to be

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huggybearsunshine · 2 years

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Fewer Things Part 3

[Part 3] The gang summon the empty.

“If things go wrong, just… get them out of here.”

It was Dean’s only concern after ‘get Cas out,’ but everything had to be perfect. It had to work, because he owed Cas that much at least. He was all focus, all soldier, and it did not go unnoticed.

“Always so determined when it comes to getting that broken Angel back,” Chuck’s eyes narrowed in on the elder Winchester as his head lifted from where it went slack, “It was always ‘We’ve lost everything, we lost Cas! Bring him back!’”

“Stop,” Sam tried, but Dean held a hand up.

“No,“ he shook his head, “Ignore him. We have too much riding on this.”

“It’s always too much when it’s him, isn’t it, Dean?” Chuck continued.

“Come on,” he looked to Rowena, “Help me with this…”

But she didn’t move.

“Go on, Rowena,” Chuck had her frozen in place, “You gotta help him get his Angel.”

“Rowena,” Dean spoke more harshly, and something seemed to snap in her.

“That’s our Angel, you sniveling runt,” she hissed before joining Dean at his side, “What can I do?”

“That’s my question,” he finished rubbing his face, “What do you got in case this thing goes for anyone else?”

“Hi Sam,” the younger Winchester looked over to find himself now the sole object of Chuck’s attention, “How’s the shoulder been?”

“Sam,” Dean grabbed his arm, having approached unnoticed, “Wanna help Rowena?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, glancing toward the old god before moving to cross the room.

“Do you do anything but run your mouth?” the elder brother turned to Chuck before his avoidance got the best of him.

“I’m getting somewhere though, aren’t I?” the bound man grinned maliciously, “‘Cause you can barely seem to look at me.”

“I’ve just got more important things to worry about than you,” Dean brushed him off, knowing full well that he was right.

“Oh that you do,” he smirked back.

“Dean?” a delicate hand gripped his forearm and he turned to see Eileen’s eyes softening as they met with his, “We’re ready.”

He turned to find the other two eyes on him as well.

“Yeah, okay,” he finally nodded and crossed to them, “Let’s do this.”

He grabbed a knife and a familiar green jacket off of a table behind them, handling it like it were precious before scraping a few flakes from the handprint on its sleeve into the bowl.

Then he heard it before he saw it, that awful wet squelching noise.

He was instantly back to that day, watching it swallow him. Watching him disappear.

But what he didn’t expect was for Cas to be the one walking out of the goo.

“Hello, Dean,” but it wasn’t him.

It instantly felt so wrong it made the hunter’s skin crawl.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he recoiled back.

“I thought this would be a welcome visage,” it grinned, “My true form has a tendency to melt people’s minds.”

He didn’t realize he was shaking until Sam’s hand gripped him.

“Why am I here?” the shadow wearing Cas’ face asked, quickly growing impatient.

“I’ve got a deal for you, since you seem to like those so much,” Dean ground out through his teeth, “You give Cas back-“

“Not happening hunter, I’m having way too much fun with that one,” it practically laughed in glee.

“And we give you him,” Dean insisted on finishing.

The shadow’s eyes were on the bound man instantly and predatorily, “Oh, yes… I would like to have him.”

But before another word could be spoken, black tendrils shot out and claimed the old God much the same way it had claimed Cas.

“Wait,” Dean realized too late that he was retreating, “Hey, wait!”

He dove forward, but it was no use. The entity was gone. Chuck was gone. And Cas was nowhere to be seen.

“Cas!” his voice screamed, “Castiel!”

Then it was silent. A hollow sort of silence because it didn’t work.

He sank into himself and into his grief, this time fully lost of hope.

His hands reached up to cover his face and the sound that came out was more animal than man.

It didn’t work.

“Dean?” Sam stepped toward him, but Rowena’s hand caught his arm.

She shook her head, and he would almost swear he saw a mist to her eye.

She tugged and he let her walk him out of the room. Eileen got the message and also left to let Dean mourn without having to feel exposed.

But he was exposed nonetheless.

There were thoughts he couldn’t explain to himself, or maybe he could, but what did it matter anymore. Cas was really gone.

Cas was really dead.

Cas was… dead, leaving behind nothing but the voice in Dean’s head.

“Happiness isn’t in the having, it’s in just being.”

“Garth,” Sam answered his persistently ringing phone as he was herded into the kitchen by the others, “Garth, I really can’t talk right now…”

“Sam, it’s important…” the other voice shook as much as his.

Eileen snatched the phone from his hand and hit the FaceTime button, waiting for the image to appear on screen, “Talk to me.”

But Sam couldn’t focus on any of it. Dean was going to be worse than ever after all of this. He was going to go even further over the edge than he was and Sam didn’t know what that would look like. He didn’t know if Dean would make it through this time, and that thought had his mind reeling.

“Sam,” Eileen’s voice pulled him back, but the eyes that met hers were desperate and lost.

“Garth,” he seemed to have to remind himself.

“He needs help,” she nodded, signing the words as she said them, “Dean needs you here. So, I’m taking care of this.”

Sam couldn’t even formulate a response but the look on his face must’ve given away his concern because Rowena stepped forward with a knowing look.

“I’ll help,” she offered and Sam’s eyes turned toward her gratefully.

Eileen simply shrugged with the hint of a smirk threatening her lip.

“It’ll be like a girl’s trip,” she looked between them, then a dip took her brow, “I’ve never had one of those.”

Dean pulled himself up to his feet as the walls closed in around him. But it wasn’t the walls. It was as if his own skin was too tight. His bones too big. His breath too heavy.

He looked around for any kind of relief, but found none.

But his feet carried him away, needing distance.

Needing to board that room up and never look at it again, but he didn’t have the strength. All he wanted in that moment was to fall to the ground.

Instead, he found himself in his room, jacket held tight in his hand.

He sat on his bed without looking where he was going, just looking at it.

The handprint. The only piece of him he had left.

He had to go.

But as he neared the garage he could hear the others’ voices and chickened out, choosing instead to duck into Cas’ room and sit in the rubble he created.

He’d been there for a while, long enough for his eyes to sting from crying, when he saw something beneath the bed.

The corner of a box, exposed in the destruction of the room.

He reached for it and tugged it toward him, flicking the lid off and looking at it like it might explode.

But there was no bomb inside, no literal bomb at least, however, the contents hit Dean like one nonetheless.

Inside was a scattering of things the two men had shared throughout the years.

A photo of Dean in his cowboy hat, the mixed tape, the FBI badge he’d made for Cas, and to his surprise, the amulet- or Samulet as that one girl who wrote the musical about their lives had called it. A few things from Claire and Jack were also among the items, but the most of it was him. He had kept these in a seemingly special place.

He did make himself at home, but he felt he had to hide it, and Dean wasn’t sure which was worse.

————————

@spuffy-destiel @destieliscanon5nov

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darkwatercomics · 2 years

Text

~ The Haunting Of Daniel Kipps ~ Act III: The Shadows Of Death ~

PAGE 61, PANEL 1

Page width panel. This is a plain black background with the words ACT III: The Shadows Of Death written on it in a white typeface.

PAGE 61, PANEL 2

Page width panel. Wide shot of the churchyard slope with a younger Daniel, Jack and Alf, the three of them sat together at its pinnacle in front of the church itself, looking over the valley. In the foreground leaves blow through the air, caught up on the wind.

JACK: Tell you what, Danny Kipps, I’m sure gonna miss this view.

DANIEL: Well, it’ll still be here when we get back.

ALF: Probably be covered in snow then too.

PAGE 61, PANEL 3

Three panels on this bottom tier. This is a closer semi-profile shot of the three of them, with Daniel sat in the foreground of the panel.

JACK: Home for Christmas turkey ‘en?

DANIEL: So they say.

ALF: Yeah, we’ll show ‘em what for and be back for tea, ha ha.

PAGE 61, PANEL 4

Similar to the previous panel but now it’s a head to waist shot of them.

JACK: That’ll keep your ma happy, Alf.

ALF: Aye, she don‘t like being on her own at all since dad‘s been gone.

PAGE 61, PANEL 5

Head to waist shot from the opposite direction with Jack in the foreground.

DANIEL: So what about when we get back, you taking that job at the Blacksmith, Jack?

JACK: Aye, probably. Had myself some fancy ideas about going to London but maybe fancy ideas is all they were, you know me, Danny.

PAGE 62, PANEL 1

Half page panel. Head to chest semi-profile shot of Daniel in the foreground, with Alf and Jack and the valley in the background of the panel.

DANIEL: I don’t know about that, Jack, we gotta have dreams.

ALF: Once the Fritz are pushed back we’ll be able to do anything, you’ll see, world’ll be a better place after and we’ll be back to normal.

FATHER DOWLING ( O.P ): Of that I have little doubt, Alfred Tuttle.

PAGE 62, PANEL 2

Two panels on this vertical tier. Full shot of Father Dowling stood behind the three of them with the church in the background of the panel.

DANIEL: Morning Father.

FATHER DOWLING: I thought I heard voices out here.

PAGE 62, PANEL 3

Full shot of Father Dowling in front of the church, stood over them, each of them now half turned to look up at him as he looks down.

JACK: Yeah, just us again, Father, bad pennies, you’ll never get rid of us.

FATHER DOWLING: You’re always welcome, Jack.

PAGE 62, PANEL 4

Two panels on this bottom tier. Head to chest semi-profile shot of Father Dowling from Daniel and the others P.O.V looking down at them.

FATHER DOWLING: I admit it will be strange not seeing you boys up here.

FATHER DOWLING: Daniel, are you okay?

PAGE 62, PANEL 5

Forehead to chin semi- profile shot of Daniel, now suddenly looking very tired and with a haunted look of realisation in his eyes.

DANIEL: Yes, I’m fine, Father. It’s … well, I just realised this isn’t real.

DANIEL: It’s just a memory.

PAGE 63, PANEL 1

Insert.

Head to chest shot of Daniel lying in bed as he wakes up from the dream.

ARTIST NOTE: Insert is positioned in the top left hand corner of panel 2.

CAPTION: “And I’m dreaming.”

PAGE 63, PANEL 2

SPLASH: Morning. It’s raining with the church’s graveyard under a canopy of ominous dark clouds and patches of pale blue sky. Wide shot of Father Dowling’s funeral, with a crowd of mourners gathered around the grave including Daniel, Maisy, Sam and Mrs Kipps, all of them dressed in their Sunday best. Many of the mourners are holding umbrellas, a priest has an open bible as he speaks.

PRIEST: Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; For the first heaven and the first earth had passed away and the sea was no more.

PRIEST: And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven …

PAGE 63, PANEL 3

Two panels on this bottom tier. In the foreground the priest and the mourners walk down the path. In the background Daniel and Sam are stood at the grave with Mrs Kipps and Maisy by the church.

DANIEL: I don’t understand why he did it, Sam, I just don’t. He was a man of God.

SAM: No one really knows what’s going on in a person’s mind, Danny. We know that better than most people, we’ve seen it first hand.

PAGE 63, PANEL 4

Overhead shot of Daniel and Sam stood beside Father Dowling’s grave.

DANIEL: But I just saw him the other day, he seemed his usual self.

SAM: Things aren’t always what they seem.

DANIEL: What do you mean?

SAM: He was a troubled man, Danny.

PAGE 64, PANEL 1

Three panels on this top tier. Full profile shot of them stood together, with Daniel in the foreground, his face pale with a deeply troubled expression. He’s having a hard time dealing with this.

DANIEL: Troubled? But he always seemed like he had all the answers.

SAM: I know, but people rarely do, not even a man of God.

PAGE 64, PANEL 2

Similar to the previous panel but now it’s a closer head to waist shot.

DANIEL: Do you know what they were?

SAM: His troubles?

DANIEL: Yes.

SAM: Only that it was something in his past, some sort of tragedy.

PAGE 64, PANEL 3

Similar to the two previous panels but now it’s a head to chest shot.

SAM: Danny? I know finding him like that hit you hard …

DANIEL: I need to know, Sam, I need to know why.

SAM: We may never know.

PAGE 64, PANEL 4

Two panels on this tier. Head and shoulders semi-profile shot of Daniel.

DANIEL: Okay, but maybe I could understand why he did what he did better if I had a better idea of who he was. There must be someone who knows about his past. I mean, he’s been living here for years, hasn’t he? But I’ve asked around and no one seems to know a thing.

SAM: That is strange, and yeah, he’s lived here since he was a young man.

PAGE 64, PANEL 5

Head and shoulders shot of Sam, similar to that of Daniel to panel 4.

SAM: *Sigh* Okay, there may be someone who can help, a way we can find out more about the tragedy, would that make you feel any better?

PAGE 64, PANEL 6

Two panels on this bottom tier. Head to waist profile shot of Daniel and Sam now turned from the grave to face each other directly.

SAM: It was some sort of village tragedy, not far from here. At least that’s the little I’ve heard. It was widely reported apparently but to be honest I never looked into it, probably out of respect really.

DANIEL: Reported? Local newspapers you mean?

SAM: Yes, and I may know someone who can help us. Now, get your ma and Maisy home, spend time with them, and I’ll see you tomorrow.

PAGE 64, PANEL 7

In the foreground of the panel Daniel is walking away down the path, head bowed, Mrs Kipps and Maisy either side of him as he holds their hands. Mrs Kipps is wiping tears from her eyes and Maisy is looking at Daniel. In the background Sam is still stood at the grave with the indistinct figure of Father Dowling behind him.

CAPTION: “Today isn’t a day for digging up the past.”

PAGE 65, PANEL 1

Page width panel. Morning. Wide shot of the village with the valley hills and fields beyond, idyllic under a pale blue morning sky.

CAPTION: I dreamt of Father Dowling again that night, but this time he was stood in the mud of No Man’s Land, reading the Bible aloud against the maelstrom of battle, like an angel in Hell itself.

CAPTION: As far as I knew he hadn’t been in the war, or any war.

CAPTION: “Is everything okay, Sam? It’s been days.”

CAPTION: “Sorry about that Danny, I had some things to attend to.”

CAPTION: “So, why are we up at the crack of dawn, where we off to?

CAPTION: “To visit an old acquaintance of mine, name of Percy Edgars.”

PAGE 65, PANEL 2

Three panels on this tier. Full shot of Daniel and Sam walking down the main street of the village. It’s early so it’s quiet, with only a few villagers dotted about as they pass the Raven Arms pub. In the background Constable Daley is watching them with curiosity.

DANIEL: Percy Edgars? Didn’t he work over at the old gazette office?

SAM: For the short time while it lasted, but he was a reporter in the war too.

DANIEL: Really? I thought Lord Kitchener wasn’t too keen on them.

PAGE 65, PANEL 3

Forehead to chin semi- profile shot of Sam on the left of the panel.

SAM: He wasn’t. Percy was already in France when the flag went up, probably could’ve got himself out but he stayed. He got a lot of reports out too before Kitchener’s people caught up with him. They had him arrested and brought back to Blighty. Rumour has it he and others like him were told they’d be put up against a wall and shot if they went back or used any of their contacts in Europe.

PAGE 65, PANEL 4

Full profile shot of them passing the window of a dressmakers shop, with the both their and the street’s reflection shown in the glass.

DANIEL: So he sat the rest of it out then?

SAM: Nope, crazy sod went back, had to keep his head well down though.

DANIEL: And he can help us?

PAGE 65, PANEL 5

Two panels on this bottom tier. Head and shoulders semi-profile shot of Sam.

SAM: Yes, ever since the gazette got shut down he’s been putting together an archive of sorts for the county. Local news, family histories, that kind of thing. Reckons he’s dug something up for us.

PAGE 65, PANEL 6

Full shot of them from behind, stood on the corner end of the main street and across from them is an old bookshop, its front neglected and its window dusty and in its glass the girl is reflected.

DANIEL: Like what?

SAM: Like something that just might answer the questions you have.

PAGE 66, PANEL 1

Insert.

Exterior shot of the bookshop, with the shadowy figures of Daniel, Sam and Percy seen through the dusty glass of the window.

ARTIST NOTE: Insert is positioned in the top left hand corner of panel 2.

PERCY ( O.P ): Excuse the mess. Actually don’t, it always looks like this.

SAM ( O.P ): So what have you got for us, Percy?

PAGE 66, PANEL 2

Page width panel. Wide shot of the interior of the bookshop with Daniel, Sam and Percy stood by its waist height counter, Percy rummaging through a pile of papers. He’s dressed very much like a scholar, in a tweed suit and glasses, a smoking pipe hanging from his mouth. The bookshop is old with dusty shelves full of books.

PERCY: In a minute Sam, can I ask you why you need to know this?

DANIEL: He was a friend, well maybe not a friend, but he was always one to me, I’m not sure I ever did the same in turn for him though.

PERCY: Yes, I think we could all do better in that regard.

PAGE 66, PANEL 3

Three panels on this bottom tier. Head to waist profile shot of Daniel and Sam directly facing Percy with the counter between them.

PERCY: Are you sure you really want to know?

DANIEL: I need to know.

PERCY: Fair enough.

PAGE 66, PANEL 4

Close up shot of Percy’s hands as he’s tapping his pipe out on the counter.

PERCY: Okay, the report I found comes from the Harrow Hill Gazette. It dates back about twenty years. It was a big thing, the kind of local tragedy that shatters lives, that rips apart a whole community.

PAGE 66, PANEL 5

Overhead shot of the three of them stood either side of the counter.

PERCY: One day most of the village went to Sunday service, an hour later thirty of them were dead and the church had burnt to the ground.

PAGE 67, PANEL 1

Three panels on this top tier. Head to chest profile shot of Daniel and Sam. Daniel is in the foreground and is now looking pale at what Percy is telling them and a concerned Sam is half turned to him.

DANIEL: Burnt?

SAM: Danny, what is it?

DANIEL: Nothing.

PAGE 67, PANEL 2

Head to waist shot of Percy now filling his pipe as he talks with them.

PERCY: Yes, there was a fire. Apparently it started in the rectory, which shouldn’t have been a problem right? Just get everyone out the front doors, trouble is, the front doors, well, they often got stuck.

PAGE 67, PANEL 3

A closer head to chest semi-profile shot of him now lighting the pipe.

PERCY: You know, we all have one of those jobs we keep meaning to get around to, things we keep putting off until another day. Ironically Father Dowling had already asked a local carpenter, a parishioner, to do that very job for him, but fate cheated him by one day.

PAGE 67, PANEL 4

Two panels on this bottom tier. A head to chest shot of Percy from behind with a head to waist shot of Daniel and Sam facing him.

PERCY: He lost half of his parishioners, not his fault, not really, but family members, friends were lost, things were said and he left.

SAM: And ended up here?

PAGE 67, PANEL 5

Head and shoulders semi-profile shot of Percy, now puffing thoughtful on his pipe with the smoke from it rising in front of his face.

PERCY: So it seems. Ask me, that’s not something you ever get past, and I don’t think he ever did. Some times you can do all the good in the world but when you look in the mirror it still isn’t enough.

PAGE 68, PANEL 1

Three panels on this top tier. Full shot of both Daniel and Sam now stood outside on the corner across the street from the bookshop.

SAM: Danny, what is it?

DANIEL: There’s something I didn’t tell you. Before I found Father Dowling I saw the church on fire, like it was actually happening.

PAGE 68, PANEL 2

Similar to the previous panel but now it’s a closer head to chest shot.

SAM: On fire? What are you saying?

DANIEL: I don’t know. I thought maybe it was my mind playing tricks, things getting mixed up, but now … it can’t be a coincidence.

PAGE 68, PANEL 3

Similar to the previous panel but now it’s a wider head to waist shot of them facing each other, with Daniel partly exasperated by Sam.

SAM: It’s strange, I’ll grant you that.

DANIEL: Strange? Sam, tell me something that hasn’t been since I got back.

PAGE 68, PANEL 4

Two panels on this bottom tier. Full shot of them now walking back along the main street, now busier with more villagers about them.

SAM: When’s you next appointment with Dr Gideon?

DANIEL: Day after tomorrow.

SAM: Good, sooner the better I reckon.

DANIEL: So you think I’m getting worse then?

PAGE 68, PANEL 5

Full shot of them from behind, walking along the rest of the main street.

SAM: No, Danny, but I think you do need to get better.

PAGE 69, PANEL 1

Three panels on this top tier. Exterior shot of Dr Gideon’s study on the ground floor of Dark Water House and the frost covered ground.

CAPTION: And so, once again, I found myself at Dark Water House. Sam believed the sessions with Dr Gideon would help me, but each time I went there and I just wanted to turn around and run.

DR GIDEON ( O.P ): Daniel, can you hear me?

DANIEL ( O.P ): Yes.

DR GIDEON ( O.P ): Can you tell me where you are, Daniel?

PAGE 69, PANEL 2

Interior of the study. Similar to page 42, with a full shot of Daniel and Dr Gideon sat on chairs facing each other. Daniel’s head is lulled forward, his eyes half closed. Samuel is stood in the background. Dr Gideon is sat forward, leant in close to Daniel. The curtains are drawn, a thin shaft of light falling in, the room is gloomy.

DANIEL: In the trenches, it’s night, I’m in the barracks.

DR GIDEON: What are you doing?

DANIEL: I’m opening a letter, the post just came in.

PAGE 69, PANEL 3

Full shot of Daniel in the past, at the Front, in uniform, sat in the gloomy trench barracks, opening a letter, his figure lit by lantern light.

CAPTION: “Who is the letter from? Can you tell us, if that‘s okay?”

CAPTION: “Yes, it’s from Father Dowling.”

PAGE 69, PANEL 4

Three panels on this bottom tier. Similar to the previous panel but now it’s a closer head to chest semi-profile shot of him, the expression on his face is one of utter disbelief as he reads the letter.

DANIEL: I … No, that can’t be right, it just can’t be, it’s impossible.

PAGE 69, PANEL 5

Head and shoulders profile shot of Daniel looking up as he hears something.

S.F.X: Screeeech …

CAPTION: “Are you okay, Daniel? What is it, what’s wrong?”

DANIEL: No …

PAGE 69, PANEL 6

Full shot of him being thrown backward through the air, the ground erupting upward as he’s caught within range of a mortar, his figure starkly silhouetted against the white flash of the explosion.

CAPTION: “Daniel?!”

PAGE 70, PANEL 1

Three panels on this top tier. Full shot of Daniel, Sam and Dr Gideon stood by the main entrance of Dark Water House. In the foreground a soldier is being pushed in a wheelchair by an orderly.

DR GIDEON: And you don’t remember what the letter said?

DANIEL: No, nothing. I remember opening it, feeling shocked, but I have no idea what it said. I don’t remember even getting a letter.

PAGE 70, PANEL 2

Similar to the previous panel but now it’s a closer head to waist shot.

SAM: Dr, is it possible how I feel about Father Dowling’s death somehow got mixed up with what I’m trying to remember from the Front?

DR GIDEON: When it comes to the human mind, Daniel, anything is possible.

PAGE 70, PANEL 3

Similar to panel 2 but now Daniel is shaking Dr Gideon by the hand.

DANIEL: I think I’m beginning to realise that.

DR GIDEON: We’re making progress, Daniel, trust me, that’s a good thing.

DANIEL: Thank you, Dr.

PAGE 70, PANEL 4

Two panels on this bottom tier. Head to waist shot of Daniel and Sam in the foreground walking away from Dark water House, with Dr Gideon in the background by the main entrance as they go.

DANIEL: What is it, Sam?

SAM: Well, I was wondering, what if you did get a letter from him.

PAGE 70, PANEL 5

Full shot of them from behind, walking across the grounds and in the foreground of the panel is a head to waist shot of the girl from behind.

DANIEL: And?

SAM: And, Danny boy, it makes me wonder what else you’ve forgotten.

PAGE 71, PANEL 1

Page width panel. Evening. Full shot of the farm yard with Daniel stood by Buster and the stable, holding a bucket, while Maisy is stood over by the porch looking across at him with Rufus sat near to her. Over the rooftop of the farmhouse hangs the red glow of sunset.

MAISY: If it’s true, why would he be writing to you? You of all people?

DANIEL: Honestly, Mais, I have no idea. All of this, everything since I got back, it’s like I have all the pieces of the puzzle but I can’t fit them together. every time I think I’m close it just slips away.

PAGE 71, PANEL 2

Two panels on this tier. Head to chest semi-profile shot of Daniel in the foreground, his hand on Buster’s face with Maisy in the background.

MAISY: Danny, have you thought that maybe you’re trying too hard?

DANIEL: Mais, I need to know.

PAGE 71, PANEL 3

Head to chest sho0t of Maisy with the farm yard and fields behind.

MAISY: Maybe that’s the problem, maybe you need it too much, maybe you need to let it come back to you in its own way. Dr Gideon seems to be helping but it’s gonna take time, so why rush it?

PAGE 71, PANEL 4

Two panels on this bottom tier. Head to chest semi-profile shot of Daniel, his head bowed, the weight of this etched in every line of his face.

DANIEL: Because I feel it Mais, a feeling in my bones, like some kind of ending is coming. It’s not something I can really put into words. I’ve just felt that something isn’t right ever since I got back.

PAGE 71, PANEL 5

Similar to the previous panel but now it’s a head and shoulders shot.

DANIEL: No, before that … I think I’ve felt it since we found those villagers, since I saw the girl. When I saw her lying there I think that was the moment I truly thought it might be the end of everything.

PAGE 72, PANEL 1

Three panels on this top tier. Forehead to chin semi-profile shot of Daniel.

DANIEL: I used to be scared of ghost stories when I was a boy but what I saw over there was far worse than any horror I could ever imagine.

PAGE 72, PANEL 2

Head and shoulders shot of Maisy facing him, filled with empathy.

MAISY: I can’t pretend to know what horrors you saw over there, Danny, but you have to believe things will get better. You made it back to us when I lot of others didn’t, that’s got to count for something.

PAGE 72, PANEL 3

A head to waist profile shot of them now directly facing each other.

DANIEL: Maybe the ones who didn’t come back were the lucky ones.

MAISY: You don’t really mean that, you can’t.

PAGE 72, PANEL 4

Two panels on this bottom tier. Head to chest semi-profile shot of Daniel.

DANIEL: No, I don’t, not really. No one should have to die the way they did, not even the worst of us, but … the one truly good man I knew was Father Dowling, and for him to do that … well, how am I supposed to believe things will be normal again after that happens.

DANIEL: I think I looked to him as proof there’s still light in the shadows.

DANIEL: And now he’s gone.

PAGE 72, PANEL 5

Similar to the previous panel but now a forehead to chin shot of him.

DANIEL: And when I think of Jack and Alf, all those who didn’t come home, I can’t help but wonder if I wasn’t meant to come back either.

PAGE 73, PANEL 1

Page width panel. Full shot of Daniel stood in one of the trenches at the front, looking about himself. He’s dressed in full uniform and trench coat, muddied, rifle over his shoulder, his helmet held in his hand. Soldiers move about him, wounded or being attended to.

CAPTION: I knew Maisy was only trying to understand, to help me however she could, that was what I loved about her, but at the end of the day I knew the only person who could help me was myself.

CAPTION: “Daniel, can you hear me?”

CAPTION: “Yes.”

CAPTION: “And where are you now?”

PAGE 73, PANEL 2

Two panels on this tier. Full shot of Daniel grabbing another soldier by the arm, his face filled with concern as he looks for Jack and Alf.

CAPTION: “I’m in the trenches. We just got back in but I can’t find Jack and Alf. We got separated out in the mud when the shelling started.”

PAGE 73, PANEL 3

Full profile shot of him now facing an officer, a corporal stood near.

CAPTION: “The officer on duty is telling me they’re already gone. He says they’re heroes, but his words are empty. Just pieces on a board.”

PAGE 73, PANEL 4

Two panels on this bottom tier. Head to waist profile shot of them.

DANIEL: They’re still out there, missing doesn’t mean dead. The guns are silent now. You don’t have to send anyone else out, I’ll go myself. It won’t take too long. It’d be my choice, nothing to reflect on you.

PAGE 73, PANEL 5

Similar to the previous panel but now it’s a head to chest shot, both of them staring at each other, both with barely contained fury.

OFFICER: Our orders were to retreat Private Kipps, no matter who was left behind. It isn’t for us to question the wisdom of our superiors.

DANIEL: And what happened to leave no man behind?

PAGE 74, PANEL 1

Three panels on this top tier. Full shot of them facing each other with the trench behind and soldiers moving about in the background.

OFFICER: For god’s sake man, do you really think I want to leave them behind, any of them? They gave their lives for King and country.

DANIEL: And how will they be honoured? So much for the King’s shilling.

PAGE 74, PANEL 2

Head and shoulders semi-profile shot of the officer, anger held in, looking for all the world like he wants to shoot Daniel on the spot.

PAGE 74, PANEL 3

Similar to the previous panel but now the brief flash of anger he showed has dissipated and he is simply staring at Daniel stone faced.

OFFICER: Corporal Davies.

CORPORAL DAVIES ( O.P ): Sir?

OFFICER: Escort Private Kipps to the barracks. And be thankful Kipps that I’m not having you charged for treason. Remember this, I would be well within my rights as an officer to have you shot.

PAGE 74, PANEL 4

Page width panel. Full shot of Daniel walking along the trench, the portly corporal Davies just behind him. Either side soldiers are sat against the trench walls, either staring into nothing, looking shocked or tired with eyed closed, or reading letters, smoking and cleaning rifles. A thick mist hangs over No Man’s Land.

CORPORAL DAVIES: Damned lucky he didn’t have you shot, Kipps. He don‘t suffer fools easily. What the hell were you thinking?

PAGE 74, PANEL 5

Two panels on this bottom tier. In the foreground is a head to waist profile shot of Daniel going up one of the trench ladders with Corporal Davies in the background, holding his hand out in alarm.

CORPORAL DAVIES: Wait … what are you doing? Come back, lad.

PAGE 74, PANEL 6

Head to waist shot of Corporal Davies from behind, half way up the ladder and peering through the mist but Daniel is barely visible.

CORPORAL DAVIES: Are you mad?! Only thing you’ll find out there is death!

PAGE 75, PANEL 1

Page width panel. Wide shot of Daniel moving across No Man’s Land through the mist, with barbed wire in the foreground of the panel.

PAGE 75, PANEL 2

Page width panel. Full high view of him stood in the mist but now on a field that resembles the Field of Remembrance, and through the mist are the faint images of white crosses and poppies.

PAGE 75, PANEL 3

Page width panel. Similar to the previous panel but instead of the white crosses there are headstones and fresh snow beneath his feet.

CAPTION: “Where are you now, Daniel?”

PAGE 75, PANEL 4

Page width panel. Full shot of him from behind now stood in the graveyard of the church and stood among the headstones is the girl.

CAPTION: “I’m back in the village, at the church, and the girl is here.”

PAGE 76, PANEL 1

Three panels on this top tier. Full shot of Daniel from behind facing the girl who is seemingly purposefully stood between two headstones, the inscriptions on them obscured by age and neglect.

PAGE 76, PANEL 2

Full profile shot of him and the girl now stood only a few feet apart.

DANIEL: You’re trying to show me something aren’t you, you’re always trying to show me something. What are you trying to tell me?

PAGE 76, PANEL 3

Full shot of the girl, head bowed, her palms placed on the headstones.

CAPTION: “Daniel, whatever it is, let her show you.”

PAGE 76, PANEL 4

Three panels on this bottom tier. Full shot of Daniel crouched in front of one of the headstones, reaching toward it as the snow falls.

DANIEL: Why would you show me this? I don’t understand.

CAPTION: “Daniel, keep going, you’re almost there.”

PAGE 76, PANEL 5

Head and shoulders shot of him, looking up as he hears the familiar sound of the mortar shell falling, his memory repeating again.

S.F.X: Screeeech.

DANIEL: No, not yet.

PAGE 76, PANEL 6

Similar to the previous panel but now the image is desaturated with the impact of the shell and the background is completely white.

PAGE 77, PANEL 1

Three panels on this top tier. Head to waist shot of Daniel lying on his bed, dressed in simple dark trousers, a dark waistcoat and white shirt, staring up at the ceiling as if he’s just woken from a dream.

DANIEL: No …

PAGE 77, PANEL 2

Close up of his eyes, now wide open as he realises where he’s woken up.

DANIEL: … Not yet.

PAGE 77, PANEL 3

Full shot of him now sat on the side of the bed, holding his face in his hands, slowly waking up as shafts of light fall through the window.

PAGE 77, PANEL 4

Two panels on this tier. Full profile shot of him, mostly in shadow, now stood at his bureau, staring down at his open journal.

PAGE 77, PANEL 5

Head to chest shot of him looking down at the journal, frowning heavily and clearly not understanding what he’s seeing on its pages.

PAGE 77, PANEL 6

Three panels on this bottom tier. Full close up shot of the open journal. On the left page is the last part of the narration from page 73, panel 1; I knew Maisy was only trying to understand, to help me however she could, that was what I loved about her, but at the end of the day I knew the only person who could help me was myself.

On the right of the page there’s a gap followed by a simple repeated phrase, just three words scribbled continuously, ‘I’M NOT HERE.’

PAGE 77, PANEL 7

Head and shoulders semi-profile shot of him looking sideways as he hears music which seems to be coming from somewhere in the house.

NOTE: I’ve used the lyrics to the song ‘Love Me Do.’ by The Beatles Potential copyright problems but it can be changed. The song was of course released a lot later than 1918 as will soon be explained.

S.F.X: Love, love me do, you know I love you. I’ll always be true …

PAGE 77, PANEL 8

Head to waist shot of him from behind as he opens the bedroom door.

S.F.X: So please, love me do, whoa, love me do.

PAGE 78, PANEL 1

SPLASH: Wide shot of him seen from across the landing from the top of the stairwell, stood in the bedroom doorway and looking shocked at what he’s seeing as the landing and stairwell now look aged by decades, very much as Dark Water House had briefly looked to him, empty, abandoned, in a state of disrepair, full of dust and cobwebs, for all the world like no one has lived here for years.

S.F.X: Love, love me do, you know I love you. I’ll always be true …

DANIEL: How can this? …

PAGE 78, PANEL 2

Insert.

Head and shoulders semi-profile shot of him looking behind himself.

ARTIST NOTE: Insert is positioned in the bottom right hand corner of panel 1.

S.F.X: So please, love me do, whoa, love me do.

DANIEL: No …

PAGE 78, PANEL 3

Three panels on this bottom tier. Full shot of him from behind, stood in the doorway and now turned to look back into the bedroom, which is now as empty and as aged as the landing and stairwell.

S.F.X: Someone to love, somebody new, someone to love, someone like you…

S.F.X: Scraaatch.

PAGE 78, PANEL 4

Full shot of him moving cautiously down the stairs, through the now gloomy interior, the confusion and bewilderment etched in his face.

DANIEL: Ma? Maisy?

PAGE 78, PANEL 5

Head to chest semi-profile shot of him at the bottom of the stairs by the inner door of the kitchen, a light flickering on him in the gloom.

NOTE: I’ve used a part of the ‘We Choose To Go To The Moon’ speech, the address given by President John F. Kennedy at the Rice University in Houston, Texas on September 12th, 1962. The speech was of course given a lot later than 1918 as will soon be explained.

CAPTION: We choose to go the moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard …

DANIEL: Hello?

PAGE 79, PANEL 1

SPLASH: In the foreground is the kitchen, aged and dilapidated like the rest of the house and on the main stone wall on the right of the panel is the famous footage of the speech being given in Houston, flickering in the gloom as if coming from an unseen projector. Through it, Daniel is stood by the kitchen doorway watching.

CAPTION: Because that goal will serve to organise and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one we’re willing to accept.

PAGE 79, PANEL 2

Two panels on this tier. Head and shoulders semi-profile shot of Daniel, the fear and bewilderment faded and now he just looks numb.

CAPTION: One we are unwilling to postpone. And therefore, as we set sail, we ask God’s blessing on this most hazardous and dangerous …

PAGE 79, PANEL 3

Exterior shot of the farmhouse, as neglected and aged as the interior, with its roof tiles missing and creeping ivy on its peeling walls and the porch is broken with its door hanging off its hinges. Daniel is looking upward as if seeking some kind of answer from on high.

CAPTION: … and greatest adventure on which man has ever embarked.

PAGE 79, PANEL 4

Two panels on this bottom tier. Full shot of him stood by what remains of the ruins of the stable, long rotted and fallen in on itself.

DANIEL: No, I won’t accept this. It isn’t real, any of it.

PAGE 79, PANEL 5

Head and shoulders semi-profile shot of him half turned, looking behind himself as he hears a familiar voice through the morning air.

SAM ( O.P ): If only that were true, Danny.

PAGE 80, PANEL 1

Page width panel. Exterior shot of the farmhouse and the yard with Daniel stood by the stable ruins and Sam stood by the old gate.

DANIEL: What is this, Sam? I know you know more than you’re saying, I think I’ve known that since you first turned up in my life again.

DANIEL: Why not just tell me?!

SAM: I’m not the one who’s hiding things from you, Danny.

PAGE 80, PANEL 2

Page width panel. Similar to the previous panel but now it’s a closer shot of them, Daniel looking frustrated with what’s going on.

DANIEL: Then who?

SAM: Who indeed, you must have some sense of it by now.

DANIEL: Sam, you’re supposed to be my friend.

SAM: I was. I am. We’re just trying to help you.

PAGE 80, PANEL 3

Three panels on this bottom tier. Head to waist shot of Daniel from behind with a full shot of Sam facing him from across the yard.

DANIEL: How is this helping me?

SAM: Because you need to find your way through this for yourself.

SAM: And you’re nearly there.

PAGE 80, PANEL 4

Head to waist shot of Sam from behind with a full shot of Daniel facing him.

DANIEL: We?

SAM: Danny …

DANIEL: You said we‘re just trying to help you, who’s we? This isn’t just you?

PAGE 80, PANEL 5

Head to waist profile shot of them, now stood only a few feet apart.

DANIEL: What is this? It’s like I’m stuck in a dream, a phantasm, can’t you see how impossible this is, Sam? How impossible all of this is?

SAM: Danny, how did you get here? How did you get home?

PAGE 81, PANEL 1

Three panels on this top tier. Similar shot to that of page 80, panel 5.

DANIEL: What? You know how I got home, by train, same as you did.

SAM: No, before that. How did you get home from the Front?

SAM: Has that thought even occurred to you?

PAGE 81, PANEL 2

Similar to the previous panel but now it’s a closer head to chest shot.

DANIEL: Why would it, I …

SAM: What is it?

PAGE 81, PANEL 3

Forehead to chin semi-profile shot of Daniel, frowning, trying to remember.

DANIEL: I can’t remember. I was at the Front, in No Man’s Land looking for Jack and Alf, then the shell hit, I was lying in the mud, then …

PAGE 81, PANEL 4

Three panels on this bottom tier. Head to chest shot of them stood by each other with Daniel now looking over at the farmhouse.

SAM: Then what?

DANIEL: Then I remember being on the train, and I was here, I was home.

PAGE 81, PANEL 5

Full profile shot of them, Daniel holding his hands to his forehead.

SAM: And nothing between?

DANIEL: I … no. I don’t understand. How could I forget how I got here?

SAM: You’re close now, Danny.

DANIEL: Close to what?

PAGE 81, PANEL 6

Forehead to chin semi-profile shot of Sam, a strange look in his eyes.

SAM: The truth of things, I think it’s time you went back to the church.

PAGE 82, PANEL 1

Page width panel. Full shot of Daniel walking determinedly through the main street of the village, which like the farmhouse is aged, neglected and empty, looking as if no one has lived here for years.

CAPTION: “You’re nearly ready.”

PAGE 82, PANEL 2

Two panels on this tier. Full shot of him from behind, walking up the sloping path toward the graveyard and the church, leaves blowing in the foreground. The graveyard is overgrown, many of the headstones covered in undergrowth or moss, some fallen or broken.

PAGE 82, PANEL 3

Full profile shot of him in the middle of the graveyard and stood between two moss covered headstones is the girl as if she’s been waiting.

DANIEL: Those are the same graves I saw before, aren’t they?

PAGE 82, PANEL 4

Two panels on this bottom tier. Head to waist shot of the girl from behind between the moss covered headstones, Daniel facing her.

DANIEL: It’s all been leading here, hasn’t it? To this moment. From the moment I got home I’ve felt myself drawn back to this place.

PAGE 82, PANEL 5

Head to chest semi-profile shot of Daniel, now looking more resigned.

DANIEL: It’s okay, it’s time I knew.

PAGE 83, PANEL 1

Three panels on this top tier. Full profile shot of him stood staring solemnly down at the first of the headstones, stealing himself.

PAGE 83, PANEL 2

Similar to the previous panel but now he’s crouched in front of the grave reaching out to the headstone and the girl has now gone.

PAGE 83, PANEL 3

Head to waist semi-profile shot of him as he scrubs at the moss to reveal the partly covered inscription beneath it with letters showing.

PAGE 83, PANEL 4

Two panels on this bottom tier. Similar to the previous panel but now it’s a closer head and shoulders semi-profile shot of him staring at the uncovered inscription with a shocked sense of disbelief.

DANIEL: No … that’s not possible.

PAGE 83, PANEL 5

Head to chest semi-profile shot of him now crouched by the second headstone and desperately scrubbing the moss off the stone.

DANIEL: It can’t be possible.

PAGE 84, PANEL 1

FULL PAGE SPLASH: Full shot of him from behind, his shadow falling over the two headstones with the inscriptions now fully revealed. In the background against an ominous grey sky and looming clouds the church is now also aged, its roof collapsed in on itself, its broken walls stained by the black smoke of fire damage.

ARTIST NOTE: The inscription on the headstones reads as follows;

In loving memory of Mary Elizabeth Kipps, Wife to John Kipps, Mother of Daniel. Lost in our day of great tragedy. May 8th 1873 - August 17th, 1918.

In loving memory of Maisy Cross, Daughter of William Henry Cross and Katherine Rose Cross. Lost in our day of great tragedy. March 8th 1896 - August 17th, 1918.

DANIEL: But how could it have been anything else.

PAGE 85, PANEL 1

FULL PAGE SPLASH: Forehead to chin semi-profile shot of Daniel as he puts everything together in his head, as the pieces of the puzzle fall into place and he realises the truth he’s been denying.

CAPTION: “Some say this is a place for the dead.”

CAPTION: “Sometimes it feels like the whole world is a place for them now. I can feel them beside me, the dead are among the living.”

PAGE 85, PANEL 2

ARTIST NOTE: Inserts 2-4 are to be read vertically on the left side of panel 1. Inserts 5-7 are to be read vertically on the right hand side, each insert is a flashback to clues given throughout the story.

Insert.

Head and shoulders semi-profile shot of Sam, Dark Water House behind.

SAM: They’re lost souls, Danny, caught between the light and shadow, stumbling around in the dark. Some of them can’t get past what they left behind, but only some. I don’t think you’re one of them. I just think you need some more time to find your way home.

PAGE 85, PANEL 3

Insert.

Head to chest semi-profile shot of Daniel, the farmhouse kitchen behind.

DANIEL: What if these things I’m seeing aren’t just in my head?

PAGE 85, PANEL 4

Insert.

Head to chest semi-profile shot of Father Dowling, the church behind.

FATHER DOWLING: Whenever there is loss we need to make sense of it.

PAGE 85, PANEL 5

Insert.

Head to waist shot of Daniel and Sam in the grounds of Dark Water House.

SAM: And, Danny boy, it makes me wonder what else you’ve forgotten.

PAGE 85, PANEL 6

Insert.

Head to chest semi-profile shot of Daniel, the farmhouse kitchen behind.

DANIEL: It’s like I have all the pieces of the puzzle but I can’t fit them together.

PAGE 85, PANEL 7

Insert.

Head and shoulders semi-profile shot of Daniel, the kitchen behind.

PAGE 86, PANEL 1

Three panels on this top tier. Similar to the full page splash on page 84 with a full shot of Daniel from behind looking at the headstones.

SAM ( O.P ): I’m sorry, Danny, you had to realise it for yourself.

PAGE 86, PANEL 2

Head to waist shot of Daniel from behind, now turned from the headstones to where Sam is stood behind him further down the slope.

SAM: You had to remember it, all of it. You’ve been holding all of it back, not letting yourself accept it. You only saw what you wanted to see, but in the end there’s only so long we can fool ourselves.

PAGE 86, PANEL 3

Full profile shot of them facing each on the slope of the graveyard.

DANIEL: It’s okay, Sam, I understand now, well most of it.

SAM: Then maybe I should explain the rest, eh.

DANIEL: I’m dead, aren’t I?

SAM: ‘Fraid so. If it’s any consolation so am I, long time now.

PAGE 86, PANEL 4

Two panels on this bottom tier. Head to waist profile shot of them.

DANIEL: And everyone else since I got back, all of them are dead too?

DANIEL: Were my mother and Maisy ever really here?

SAM: Oh, they were here alright, as much as I am anyway.

PAGE 86, PANEL 5

Similar to the previous panel but now it’s a closer head to chest shot.

DANIEL: If I died there, why am I here? Why am I home?

SAM: Because you weren’t here when you thought you should have been.

PAGE 87, PANEL 1

Page width panel. Full profile shot of them facing each other on the slope.

DANIEL: The church.

SAM: Our day of great tragedy.

SAM: Your guilt of not being there stopped you moving on. You’ve been living out a homecoming that never actually happened.

PAGE 87, PANEL 2

Two panels on this tier. Head to waist shot of them now stood together, nearby the headstones and looking up at the church ruins.

DANIEL: This is Harrow Hill.

DANIEL: This is my home and I couldn’t remember its name, how does something like that happen? I didn’t want to know, did I?

DANIEL: I didn’t want to face the truth.

PAGE 87, PANEL 3

Forehead to chin semi-profile close up shot of Daniel as he remembers.

DANIEL: I remember now, the letter I got from Father Dowling. He told me what happened, about my mother and Maisy. I guess he felt responsible, like Percy said, fate cheated him by just one day.

DANIEL: And I guess he couldn’t live with that.

PAGE 87, PANEL 4

Three panels on this bottom tier. Head to chest profile shot of them, with Daniel in the foreground, looking at the church as he listens.

DANIEL: You were trying to help me, weren’t you, all of you. I just didn’t see it.

SAM: I guess we’re glorified guides of a sort. You got lost, Danny, lost for a very long time. We were just here to help you find your way.

PAGE 87, PANEL 5

Similar to the previous panel with a head to chest profile shot of them.

DANIEL: What happened to the village?

SAM: What happens to any village that’s been around a long time, eventually everyone leaves and it dies. To be honest I don’t think it ever recovered after that day. Losing so many people like that, I think it ripped the heart out of the place, it wasn’t the same anymore.

PAGE 87, PANEL 6

Head to waist shot of Sam in the foreground walking away with a full shot of Daniel in the background as he watches his friend leave.

DANIEL: Will I see you again?

SAM: Oh, I’ve no doubt of it. See you over the top, Danny boy.

PAGE 88, PANEL 1

Insert.

A head and shoulders semi-profile shot of Daniel, now half turned.

ARTIST NOTE: Insert is positioned in the top left hand corner of panel 2.

MAISY( O.P ): So the penny finally dropped, eh, Danny Kipps.

PAGE 88, PANEL 2

Full page length panel. Full shot of Daniel stood at the top of the graveyard, Maisy and Mrs Kipps at his side in front of the church ruins.

DANIEL: I’m sorry, I should have seen what you were trying to show me.

MAISY: Yeah, you should have, big idiot. Always a bit slow on the uptake you, Danny Kipps, but I guess some things ain’t never changed.

DANIEL: Yeah.

PAGE 88, PANEL 3

Full page length panel. Similar to the previous panel but now a closer head to waist shot and Daniel has his hand on Mrs Kipps arm.

MAISY: So, this is it then, ma.

MRS KIPPS: Aye, it is, Danny.

MRS KIPPS: We can give you some time to yourself if you don’t feel …

DANIEL: No, it’s okay.

PAGE 88, PANEL 4

Full page length panel. Forehead to chin semi-profile shot of Daniel. There’s sense of peace and acceptance in his expression now that he understands, now that he has the clarity he’s been seeking.

DANIEL: I’m ready now.

PAGE 89, PANEL 1

Full page length panel. Full shot of Daniel, Maisy and Mrs Kipps walking down the path away from the church ruins in the background.

PAGE 89, PANEL 2

Full page length panel. Full shot of them from behind walking through a field that overlooks the valley, their figures now faint as they move beyond this world. A sky full of clouds hang over them, flickers of sunlight illuminating the edges, giving a serene and unearthly sense to things. In the valley’s basin is an early 1960’s motorway seen at distance, bringing to fruition the idea that Daniel has been lost a lot longer than he realised, as alluded to by the earlier presence of ‘Come Fly With Me’ ‘Love Me Do’ and President John F. Kennedy’s ‘We Choose To Go To The Moon’ speech.

PAGE 89, PANEL 3

Full page length panel. Similar to the previous panel but Daniel, Maisy and Mrs Kipps are gone and the field is empty, and shafts of sunlight fall between the now broken clouds. In the panel’s foreground, in the bottom right corner, a single red poppy has grown.

PAGE 90, PANEL 1

FULL PAGE SPLASH: This final page is more symbolic than story led. Full shot of a stone memorial now in the field with the valley beyond, the clouds fully broken with a golden and pewter evening sky.

The memorial itself resembles the Cenotaph that stands in Whitehall, London. As with that the words ‘The Glorious Dead’ are inscribed into it but in difference to it, underneath is a list of names from the village including Daniel, Sam, Jack, Alf and Percy Edgars.

ARTIST NOTE; Written over the grass in the foreground in bronze lettering are the words ‘Until They Are Home, No Man Left Behind.’

PAGE 90, PANEL 2

Insert.

White typeface on a plain black background with the words ‘THE END.’

ARTIST NOTE: Insert is positioned in the bottom right corner of panel 1.

0 notes