#silver dream travelled ever since he was small and has actually met and played with sebek and malleus in that dream world

[fisheem4mmal]

ミート・イン・ア・ドリーム

[isfjmel-phleg]

Some interesting info from interviews with Flash and Impulse writer Mark Waid, as quoted in The Flash Companion:

The previous Flash writers had established Wally's parents as awful, and Waid drew from his own experiences to develop "the notion of feeling trapped as a boy, feeling very held-down by parents who weren't terribly affectionate or weren't terribly good at giving guidance, and sort of being trapped in a small town and feeling like there were bigger things out there." He drew from his own mother in writing Iris in her relationship with Wally.

The earliest version of the character now known as Max Mercury was called Quicksilver and had no known civilian name or backstory. Waid really liked the character and brought him back into the series and gave him a name and story and development because they needed a Speed Force guru and neither Jay Garrick nor Johnny Quick were a good fit for that role.

When asked if he ever felt "like you were defying convention with this sort of optimistic viewpoint," Waid's reply was, "Oh, constantly. [...] You cannot count the number of times people came down the hall at DC Comics to ask us when somebody's legs were getting shattered [...] or when something horrible or grotesque was going to happen to Flash. But that character, that book, is not about tragedy. It's never been about tragedy. It's been about hope, and and it's been about movement, and it's been about freedom."

Max's "voice and cadence and delivery" comes from that of editor Brian Augustyn.

"It's hard for me to write a guy without a sense of compassion to him."

Waid liked writing Jesse Quick, "because she was so good at yelling at Wally." His characterization of her came from "every overcompensating businessperson I have ever met in my life, that sense of everything's by the schedule, everything is by the book, and romance is just another thing to be filled in the Day Planner."

"I built a family around a character who is essentially a loner who lives inside his own head. I was clearly, inadvertently trying to recreate the Superman family of the Silver Age. There was never any doubt in my mind that Wally was still unique and still interesting and that I never thought that having the other speedsters around diminished him in any way."

Iris's biography of her husband was a major plot element in a particular Flash issue, and a fan at a convention suggested to Waid that he make The Life Story of the Flash an actual book--so he did! It required a lot of research--reading every single comic ever featuring Barry and taking extensive notes, then developing it all into a narrative, including every minute piece of trivia found in that research.

Writing Barry was significantly different from writing Wally because he's "a great guy, no question, but he's a complete stiff. He was Joe Suburban Guy. He's fondly remembered, especially by me, but there's not a whole lot of 'there' there. And that's not a condemnation of the character, he's just not terribly complex. There's nothing wrong with that. But he was all surface, and any attempt on our part to add some modern complexity to him just felt wrong and off-key."

Waid chose not to give Wally a day job or a secret identity or focus on his personal life because "his personal life is being the Flash." Wally has the job he has dreamed of since childhood, and his whole identity is wrapped up in it. This is something drawn from Waid's own attitude toward landing his childhood dream job to work in comics.

He put a lot of autobiographical elements into Wally in general. The story in which Wally time-travels to his childhood and offers his younger self some encouraging words was inspired by Waid's returning to his childhood home in Alabama and realizing that he "wanted nothing more--nothing in the universe more--than to walk around the side of the house and find ten-year-old Mark Waid just sitting there playing, so I could talk to him. So I could tell him that I knew life was going to be tough for him and that it would be a while before it got easier, but that he shouldn't spend so much time being afraid of what tomorrow might bring because when he grows up, every wish he ever had was going to come true."

Waid was approached to write the series in which Bart is the Flash but editorial didn't like his ideas and he got turned down. They approached him later to write Wally after Bart got killed off, and Waid agreed because he "didn't want anybody else to screw it up" by making it overly dark and tragic.

The Incredibles was an inspiration for the approach to writing Wally with a family.

Bart was created as a twist on the formula of the Flash's relationship with Kid Flash; Barry and Wally got along very well, but Wally's "sidekick" drives him crazy.

The creators of Impulse weren't initially sure who the mentor figure in the series would be. Jay Garrick was considered, but Waid felt that Jay and his wife Joan wouldn't have brought anything to the series "that wouldn't have been Ma and Pa Kent." Max was chosen because of the comedic potential in his being such an opposite to Bart.

Waid and Augustyn wanted Impulse to be "not a super-hero book but a sitcom disguised as a super-hero book," and there was very vehement opposition to this creative choice.

Manchester is based on Birmingham and Prattville, Alabama, where Waid lived as a teenager. He took pictures of his house there so that penciller Humberto Ramos could use it as a model for Max's house.

Why does Bart have images in his thought balloons rather than words? "He just doesn't think. If you have Bart with an actual thought balloon over his head, you're writing him wrong."

Bart's friend Preston is named after Waid's best friend in high school. Carol Bucklen's name comes from those of girls he knew as a child. Waid was proud of the fact that "the entire time we did that book [...] her and Bart's relationship was emphatically not a boyfriend/girlfriend relationship."

"One of the key notes to Bart, at least in the two years that Humberto and I did his book, was that Bart didn't have a single surging hormone in his body anywhere. It wasn't that he didn't like girls. He didn't like anybody! [...] Okay, that's not true. But Bart doesn't think beyond his own immediate sphere of influence. It's not that he doesn't care about people, it's just that he doesn't think about other people. And he doesn't have any use for romance because he's still, developmentally, a three-year-old boy at that point."

Bart's mother, Meloni, was created around the time Waid's mother was dying of cancer and is modeled after her. Meloni's pet name for Bart, "Sunshine," is something Waid's mother used to call him.

Apparently the decision to have Bart abandon his Impulse identity and become Kid Flash in the 2003 series was not the idea of that series' writer but of "an editor that never got the character and has made it his mission to purge DC of anything even remotely fun and light-hearted." Waid was very critical of the eventual choice to have Bart become the Flash and fought it but was overruled. When he was informed that Bart was going to be killed off, he "figured that Bart would be better off dead than misunderstood and mishandled."

[ceruleanchillin]

Honeymoon Headcanons: Mayans Edition

Characters: Angel, Coco, EZ x F!Reader

Miami (Angel)

It wasn’t difficult at all to decide where the two of you would take your honeymoon. When you weren’t gonna be naked, Angel wanted you in sundresses and bikinis. You wanted him in linen shirts, and to feel him up in a club. Couple that with you both wanting a tropical environment, and Miami it is.

Angel letting you handle the accommodations, because you seem to know more about what you wanna see/where you wanna go than he does. He only cares about a bed and shower for when he’s not taking you in the inappropriate places. He just hands over the cash, though he complains about his hurt wallet.

Angel hard as a rock when he sees your new name on your plane ticket.

The two of you nearly missing your flight because your husband needs to “show his wife he loves her”.

You babying him on the flight, because Angel has never flown anywhere before.

“Mami, it’s perfectly valid to feel like a flying toaster can’t safely get you anywhere but a casket. Which they can’t even put you in, because you’ll be everywhere!”

Cue you distracting him with kisses and dirty words in his ear, which gets you initiated into the Mile High Club

Barely making it into the cute little condo before the two of you are at it again, collapsing in the late hours to jet lag and mutual satisfaction.

Your first official day is spent dragging Angel around the humid streets. Knowing he stresses easily if you plan things too tightly, and wanting to wing it yourself. It’s surprising how well you to fit in, it almost feels like home.

Angel switching from being jealous, because your tiny cotton sundress is attracting more than just his attention, to him kissing all over your dewy skin because so much of it is visible.

You getting as jealous as Angel, because it seems like each place you drag him to has openly interested ladies. It’s the white linen shirt that he won’t fully button no matter how many times you try to make him.

Angel basking in the attention, and even playing it up to force you to be the one to initiate inappropriate public sex.

Smirking when you break after a woman pays for his (and unintentionally yours) order at a small cafe you stepped into and you snap and drag him to a hidden place.

“I only love you querida, mi alma.” he whispers in your ear when he bottoms out inside you.

You two are a beautiful couple. Photogenic as all hell. Alone, neither of you have a problem attracting interest, but together, you make people want to be seen around you. That’s why you have no problem club hopping to all the exclusive places.

Angel taking photos and videos of you dancing because he’s so enthralled. He can’t wait to show your kids one day when they ask why he fell for you, and he explains how full of life you are.

Getting enough liquor in Angel to get him dance somewhere away from the club, especially since he (lies) and says he can’t.

You and Angel competing to see who can get the most people to buy your drinks + the two of you losing track because you both get drunk.

A quickie in the coatroom is the prize, Angel fucking you to the hypnotic beat.

Spending a few hours apart the following day, only to still keep texting and FaceTiming each other until you met up, touch starved, at a small restaurant.

Deciding to spend the rest of the day at your Airbnb laid up under each other after Angel scores weed. Teasing Angel about his monetary complaints when you spend all night enjoying the small backyard pool.

Angel thanking God for getting an adventure loving woman as his soulmate when you wake him up the next afternoon to inform him you rented jet skis for the day.

You being impressed when, while jet skiing, Angel silver tongues your way into an invitation to a nearby yacht party out of the host.

FaceTiming Gilly to make him jealous that you two are doing Hookah and drinking Casamigos in a hot tub.

Angel ramping up the mockery when EZ and Coco appear on screen, attracted by Gilly’s whining. Everyone looking overworked and salty, while you and Angel are living your best non-sober lives.

Slipping away from the party to one of the rooms on the boat, because once again, you and Angel never know when to stop teasing each other before it ends up in sex.

Feeling bold enough to suggest that since Angel’s been documenting so much of the trip, that maybe he should film this too.

The aftermath being a surprisingly sweet series of kisses and confessions where the two of you express how thankful you are to have found each other. How you can’t wait to build a forever together.

Marfa + Roswell (Coco)

No one knew how you got Coco to agree to travel for your honeymoon until you finally revealed where you were going. Splitting a week between Marfa and Roswell.

You and Coco are that “weird” conspiracy, incense, and weed couple, so it makes sense.

Giving Coco an edible before you leave, because like Angel, he doesn’t fuck with air travel like that.

“They got me with that bullshit in the military, but that was out of my control. You askin’ a lot right now, you’re lucky you’re cute mujer.”

Coco getting progressively handsy during the flight as the edible hits. Eventually, you stop fake-fighting his neck kisses and forward touches.

Also like Angel in that he’s unafraid to become a member of the Mile High Club.

The ride from the El Paso airport, to the car rental place, to Marfa takes far longer than Coco would like.

He’s used to long stretches of trip on his bike, and when you notice him becoming antsy, you distract him with interesting facts about Marfa.

The entire time, Coco can’t help but think that you’re the perfect road trip co-pilot, only to realize he actually meant his life in general now.

Coco proud as hell when you fall in love with his accommodations choice like he did. The colorful airstream trailers of the El Cosmico hotel are the two of you through and through.

You both trying to be responsible adults and refresh after travel, but continuing to get lost in each other during the whole process.

Shower sex -> Making out while drying off -> Touching while searching through your bags for something to wear -> bed sex -> repeat

Looking thoroughly mauled when you finally manage to get Coco off of you and into the car in search of food the next afternoon.

Coco being happy you can’t cover up due to the heat, while you wonder what superpower he and his boys have that let them wear flannel and long sleeves in the heat.

Dragging Coco to a cute cafe you saw on instagram, and him knowing, by the hipster design of it, that his wallet is about to cry.

Stealing food from his plate, and laughing at him sucking his teeth and whining when he catches you.

“You’re stuck with me forever now Johnny sooo….get used to this.”

“Small price to pay for that I guess.”

Finding small shops to go to and being Siamese twins in every one. Coco showing he has good taste in a lot of things one might think he wouldn’t. Him opening up his wallet at everything you 'ooh' and 'aww' at. He can’t help it, he likes you happy, and your kisses and adoring looks are addicting.

For almost everything you get, Letty gets something too. Neither of you wants that tantrum when you get back.

You fighting yourself to avoid the art supply store, and Coco not having it.

“I have so many supplies already, it’s an addiction at this point.”

“So? Get some more. It’s our week, we shouldn’t stress about shit.”

Coco bragging on your talents and successes to the art shop cashier when you checkout.

“Cocoooo.” you murmur hiding your face in his shoulder, arms around his waist.

“Don’t be shy ma, you’re fucking amazing. I love your skills.”

Cue the cashier swooning at the two of you.

Finding unique liquor stores and getting tipsy on samples. It becomes twice as fun when locals, and other tourists alike, start discussing the Marfa lights with you, and you and Coco impress everyone with your ideas.

Being invited to a bonfire smoke session with the other El Cosmico guests when you get back.

Sketching Coco by the firelight, because he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen in that moment, and now he’s officially yours.

The sex being on another level of intimate that night, because all day you and Coco have been engaging in your respective love languages, and it culminates in mutual need for each other.

The drive to Roswell being more tolerable for Coco, but he still misses his bike. Your excitement about AlienFest is so palpable however, he quickly forgets.

Your hotel being more conventional, but the people you meet making up for it. Finally, you and Coco aren’t the weirdest ones in the room.

Taking the time before the festival starts to check in with friends and family and accumulate odd souvenirs for them. You believe Coco is intentionally getting them stuff they’ll hate.

“Taza won’t wear that baby, he has better taste in jewelry than UFO earrings.”

“Ok, but can he bitch about us not getting him anything? Plus, you can guilt anyone into anything.”

Doing cute edible pastries at the festival.

“You know Aliens are demons right? Jack Parsons and L. Ron Hubbard were doing summoning rituals in the Mojave in 1946, and Roswell was the following year.”

“Word?…Shit. Tell me that again when we’re not rolling. I wanna read about it………you’re so smart mami.”

Coco realizing between every snack stop, every dance he shares with you, every trinket you pick up, and every little conspiracy tidbit you share, that you’re his wife now. That the peace he’s been feeling all week, that he thought he’d never have, is going to be his new normal.

New Orleans (EZ)

You and EZ both enjoy engaging with history and culture, and felt that your honeymoon should be built off of your shared interests. During your meticulous wedding planning, it was decided New Orleans would be the honeymoon destination. It didn’t hurt that you missed your southern roots too, even if you weren’t from New Orleans.

Traveling with EZ is a dream considering you’re both pretty organized, together people. He’s not afraid of flying, but you’re always a little nervous.

EZ being Best Husband™️ and soothing even the most minor of your stresses by turning your attention to the excitement of your trip and your new relationship status.

Teasing EZ in-flight won’t get you Mile High Club initiated, because he finds it much more entertaining to punish you by letting you work the both of you up, and making you stay that way for the duration of the flight. He’s got enough will power to suffer through it, because your soft whines make it worth it.

The airbnb is everything it was promised to be, and you’d appreciate that later, but all you can think of is your husband when you step through the door. That’s the other half of why EZ likes to leave you waiting. Your aggression and exclusive desire for him gets, and keeps, him hard.

It rains the following day, which is just as well, because neither of you are quite ready to stop physically expressing your love for each other. The day consists of ordering food, falling out of your clothes and onto each other, separating to read, falling back on each other, and quick naps.

Angel sending mocking texts in your Reyes group about how you’re trying to turn his brother bamma like you, only to stop when you threaten him with no souvenirs.

EZ and you taking responsibility for your own tour because let’s face it, you both know exactly what you want to see, and can plan a more satisfying tour for the both of you. You take turns deciding where to go next.

When it’s his turn, EZ picks an art museum, and can’t quit smiling about it. You think it’s because he picked a place he really wanted to go to.

“Babe, I have a surprise for you.”

“What?” your excitement always makes EZ’s heart race with his own.

He hands you the guide brochure he picked up at the door, folded to the section he wants you to look at.

“Faith Ringgold exhibit?!”

He hums and nods, grunting when you knock into him with a hug.

“Thank you for thinking of me. I love you.” you look up at him, eyes shining with unshed tears and he just kisses you, afraid he’ll cry if he says anything.

The two of you avoid the tourist trap spots for lunch and find a cute family owned cafe. You order for the both of you based on what you know about southern cuisine and both of your tastes.

You love watching EZ fall in love with the food as he keeps asking “Can you make this?” about everything he eats.

The two of you walking through the Garden District in the evening. Hands swinging between you with no plans but to admire the beautiful homes and foliage.

EZ noting how awestruck you are, and you describing what you love about the historic, towering homes.

He catches that when you describe what your dream home in the area would be, he and your future children are mentioned frequently, and it makes butterflies dance in his stomach. He can picture your family in the yards around him.

The two of you almost make it back to your Airbnb, but give into your baser urges after all the domestic conversation. EZ pulls you into an alley for a quickie, the two of you fighting to silence the other’s vocal expression.

You teasing EZ after that he’s more like his brother than he thinks. Him teasing back the two of you would’ve been caught and arrested if he was like Angel.

The following day is relaxed and less planned. The both of you getting thoughtful gifts for each member of your family, blood and otherwise. EZ scores major points for the gifts he suggests for your mom and dad, and you kind of want to jump him again.

EZ is glad you’re impressed, but it’s nothing to him. It all comes naturally because he loves you so much, and refuses to be anything other than the husband he knows you deserve.

AN:

I didn’t want to add this, cuz I wanted to end on a sweet note, but you just know Angel would accidentally send that vid to one of his boys.

Personally, I lose it for shit like this. Anything domestic in writings is my jam, so I decided to make these headcanons.

- Fun fact: Jet Ski is kind of like Bandaid in that it’s become the generic term for “personal water vehicles”, but it’s actually a specific brand’s name for their PWVs. I learned this while writing this enjoy💀.

[ginkgomoon]

Cyril- Character Analysis

This post was based on an ask made a while ago concerning Hypnos’ character. I personally think his appearance enhanced the development of the game for the Winter World chapters, additionally with the depth of MC’s character. Hopefully this post will help clarify some things in relation to who he is and why he is important to the game’s progression. Please enjoy his well-deserved character analysis post. And yes- lots of spoilers! Please don’t read if you don't want to be spoiled on future content from Chapters 19+.

“This is the world you wanted.”

Hypnos first appears in the Epilogue of Chapter 19, when MC escapes her dream (the one with the separate routes of the guys) and begins to enter the Winter World through Black Cabin.

A soft hue appeared amidst this world of frozen white. A handsome, elegant young man walked towards me from the mist. Snow fell upon him, but as if he was protected by some force, none stuck on him. For a moment, I felt that this person looked really familiar, but it was someone I’ve never met. His eyes seemed detached, yet full of pity.

“This world’s pretty interesting, don’t you think?”

I did not sense any direct threat from him, but I was also unable to let my guard down.

“Is this not the world you wanted? You were aware of it long ago. No need to go on deceiving yourself.”

His tone was peaceful, but there was a chill to it that made me shiver.

“In this world, time’s been frozen. Everything you fear hasn't taken place. It was not I who made this world, but you. Everything you have experienced is a product of that which you yearn for the most. If everything could start over, if life could return to normal, if none of this had occurred...”

He saw into my heart effortlessly, tearing down each fragile wall I’d made with each word that he spoke.

The man’s gentle expression turned cold. His smile faded into subdued indifference.

“You think everything you’ve experienced is fake? Everything is real. Everyone in this world had sunken into the same dream. We will forever remain in a dream land.”

The man chuckled gently. Snow and wind blurred his form, blurring my vision. -Chapter 19 (Epilogue)

Some people would probably have the reaction of ??? and others would think he’s a new love interest HAHA.

It’s clear that this section of the chapter does not give much insight into his character, his name or who he is all. But, we can (hopefully) tell from what we are given, that he will play an important role in the future since he has an actual VA, and is (quite confusingly) going on about “the world that she wanted”. Though, this will be all cleared up later. From here, he makes small appearances in the next few chapters, which helps foreshadow and gradually help set the final showdown to conclude the Winter World.

While my mind wandered, I accidentally ran into someone in the corner. Even more unluckily, as I retreated backwards I stepped on a slick patch of ice, almost sending me sprawling.

“Careful.”

A light laughter fell on my ears. Before I could react, I was caught by the person I bumped into.

“Are you okay?”

I looked up and was met with a pair of gentle green eyes. A handsome face filled my vision. For an instant, I felt that he was familiar, and the sight of an ice-covered world seemed to appear before me. He gracefully let go of my wrist in a gentlemanly manner, stepped back to a more appropriate distance. -Chapter 20-17

A man walked out onto a rooftop covered with snow and held out his hand, catching a snowflake falling from the sky. The snowflake in his palm turned into an exquisite, white robin with its eager wings spread as if escaping a prison and flying into the sky.

He looked down from on high, surveying the city blanketed in dazzling white snow, a faint smile on his face.

“Truly something to look forward to- a long cold winter.” -Chapter 21-25

At this point, we still don’t even know who this man is. Or if he even has a name! But finally, the chapter after reveals a little bit more to help us come to somewhat of a conclusion about his character.

Chapter 22-5

The automatic vending machine behind me kept repeating the same sentence. I turned around to find that the machine wasn't on the fritz- there was actually someone continually trying to make a payment. I couldn't help but go over to see if they needed help.

A pair of eyes clear as glass turned on me. Although there was a gentle look in his eyes, there was a subtle feeling of distance.

I suddenly recognised that face! It was that famous piano player- Cyril!

MC: “Excuse me, do you need help?”

A hint of warmth suffused his cold eyes, as he gestured in frustration at the vending machine.

Cyril: “Just want to buy a bottle of water, but I don’t know how to use these machines.”

(*Intense vending machine purchase in process*)

Instead, I decided to just point at the app on my own phone and give him a brief explanation, afraid that I would miss my bus.

MC: “This time, I’ll buy for you. This is the one you want?”

Cyril: “Right, thanks.”

When I accidentally brushed against his long, slender fingertip, there wasn’t even a hint of warmth.

MC: “Your hand is ice cold. How about I buy a warm drink for you?”

He seemed a little hesitant, but he gave a slight nod and accepted my proposal with a smile.

The drink thunked down into the dispenser, and before I could react, he already bent down and retrieved the bottle and mine from the machine.

When he extended the drink to me, I realised that at the bottom, there were two kinds of paper, which appeared to be tickets of some kind.

I lifted them up and carefully looked at them. They were tickets to an upcoming and very sold out piano tour. Moreover, this was for the final VIP performance aboard the HMS (Abbreviated for “Her Majesty’s Ship”) Victoria.

He may not look like it, but he’s actually quite a warm, kind person.

The silver haired man watched as the bus drove away, and the drink in his hand turned solid ice without him noticing.

As snow drifted down around him, a faintly perceptible smile formed on his lips.

“I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”

We find out that the young man’s name is Cyril, a famous piano player. During this exchange, Cyril is taking his time to observe MC and how she’s responding to the Winter World. He appears to be genuinely surprised about MC’s display of kindness, even though she’s been tossed out by the men most important to her, and into a foreign world wreaked of havoc.

He lets MC purchase the warm milk tea for him, and they both talk about the most mundane things ever. This may seem like just filler conversations, but actually holds importance because it actually influences how he views the world and MC in the future.

Cyril then uses this chance to extend his invitations to his sold out piano performance on the HMS Victoria. MC thinks he’s “quite a warm, kind person”- to which, we will find out if she’s wrong later. We also can confirm that he is an Evolver as we watch him turn his drink into solid ice, as well as the same man who was left unidentified in the previous chapters.

Chapter 23-13

??: “At this point, we’re all certain that the one behind this “Eternal Winter” is one of our former members.”

??: “Another traitor?”

??: “One with the power to traverse time and construct dreamscapes. There's only one that it could be.”

??: “The traitor code-named Hypnos?”

With those words, a deathly stillness fell over the air, as if some indescribable darkness had stolen into the room.

True name: Unknown. Age: Unknown. Evol: Time travel, dream construction.

Pitifully few clues to go on, not even a single photograph.

Was that person who trapped me in that dream and the traitor the same? If it was true that everything before happened on another world’s timeline, then does that mean this person had jumped through into this world timeline?

??: “Just what is he planning to do?”

??: “Whatever it is, since he’s a traitor to the organisation, it’s bound to be contrary to our goals. We must put a stop to him.”

??: “Continue the investigation. We must find the satellite coordinates. We cannot let him interfere with our plan.”

If this mystery mastermind had such powerful abilities, then what chance do I have at stopping him?

The hexagonal crystal symbol wasn't a major part of their discussion, but it stuck a faint chord with a hazy part of my memory. I finally remembered- that ticket to the concert!

They consider this powerful Evolver- Hypnos, a traitor to Black Swan and the individual behind the Eternal Winter incident. But nobody knows what he looks like. However, MC notices that the hexagon design is seen similar to the tickets that Cyril gave to her for his performance on the HMS Victoria. She now knows that Cyril is Hypnos, then realises that the satellite launch isn’t on land, but on sea. She knows how to stop the winter from spreading.

Here we automatically assume that he’s another Black Swan bad-guy-turned-traitor. What is his true goal? And why does it have to be that handsome piano player, out of all people?

Chapter 24-5

Before we could enter the main hall and check out the situation, a sonorous piano melody was belated through the ship’s speakers over that whole patch of sea.

The gentle tune formed an invisible yet unbreakable net in the air. Everyone in proximity to it became the piano music’s prisoner, unable to escape.

I felt a strong feeling of drowsiness. I tried to stop it but it seemed to have already gotten into my veins. Every cell in my body reverberated with it.

Everyone in the hall was swaying like soulless puppets, and on the stage, Cyril held his eyes slightly closed as he played the last requiem for them.

Chapter 24-7

MC travels to confront him on his ship, and watches him entrance people with his piano playing. This is how he got his code-name “Hypnos”. (Similar to how Kiro can charm and control people). Thankfully, Helios appears, his Evol is powerful enough to command MC to escape this.

“Why can’t a lie... be a good thing, too? Is this not the world you wanted?”

An anonymous voice seeped into my consciousness, accompanied by a dim, far away sounding piano.

The false warmth swooped in, and exhausted as I was, I chose to accept it.

My hand was originally grasping at air, but just then I distinctly felt the touch of something solid and warm. I could faintly feel someone grabbing onto me tight.

I forced open my heavy eyes, and a familiar outline filled my blurry vision.

“K- Kiro...?”

For a second, I couldn’t tell if I was in a dream or reality. His face was in shadow, and those usually sea blue eyes now flashed golden, as beautiful as the night stars.

He shouted at me, loud enough to hear over the inescapable piano music-

“I command you to awaken!”

Although without a hint of warmth, his eyes were like the first rays of dawn filtering through the curtains, melting away the fanciful dreamworld clouding my brain.

-

“I’m not like Ares. I don’t care about any Queen. If you want to influence the outcome, you have to do it your own way.”

Cyril still didn't stop playing, and instead kept moving his fingers across the key in a self-satisfied manner. The audience were completely under the spell of his melody, sunken into the deepest depths of a dream.

A black pistol was pointed straight at him, but the enraptured pianist did not let that stop his performance. Helios wasn’t in a hurry either, waiting quietly for the perfect, culminating core for this piece.

Just as the final note was stuck, Helios resolutely pulled back the tigger. A stream of smoke rose from the gun, but Cyril was somehow unharmed, blocked by an invisible force field.

Helios: “You constructed this dreamscape long before.”

Cyril: “I just don’t want this performance to have any interruptions.”

He rose elegantly from his piano bench and took a deep bow toward the hall absent of applause. Then he sauntered off the stage and looked at me.

Cyril: “You finally came.”

Chapter 24-9

Cyril: “Thank you for teaching me how to use the vending machine.”

I didn't expect him to speak up first, much less did I expect him to bring up that. As if we weren’t staring into the upcoming apocalypse, but just another utterly normal day.

Cyril: “It was you who showed me a different side of life. Although I still think, milk tea tastes better iced.”

MC: “But that doesn’t mean you have to wipe out the people who prefer drinking it hot.”

Cyril: “I think you misunderstood me. Just like you, I love this world. I love the complexity and uncertainty humanity has brought to it. I just think, it just doesn't have to move so fast.”

The smile he had showed- made me believe that from the bottom of his heart, everything he did was to make the world better, and that he should not recover any blame or interference from anyone.

Cyril: “Before one fully understands oneself, power beyond control can only be dangerous. Just like if I were to ask you now, do you truly understand yourself? How would you answer?”

He chuckled at my inability to respond.

The thoughts in his heart were hidden beneath a glacier, and all it showed on the surface was the very tip of it, preventing me from ever getting a clear idea of what he was thinking.

Cyril: “I’ve prepared a little gift for this kind of world.”

A giant steel tower shot upwards and stood tall between the water and sky. The satellite launch tower!

Cyril took hold of my hand and causally moved the key from his own hand. Before I had time to stop him, I saw crystal clear ice form at his fingertips. Pure and unblemished, but also dead. Just like this world before us.

Cyril: “Isn’t this a nice way to end things? This. Is the world you want.”

He then hands MC to press the button for him, then freezes the key to the Black Cabin. Cyril here genuinely believes that what he is doing is good for MC, as he uses the satellite launch platform from the ocean to spread the “Eternal Winter”- the “perfect world”.

Black Swan still pursues evolution of all humanity, but Cyril doesn’t agree with their methods. He knows MC is the Queen and thinks that in this Winter World, this is how she will only grow- without those she loves- if she had not known the boys and everyone she cares about. "If none of those things in the original world had occurred..."

What Hypnos stated reminds me of the Winter World Helios and what he said from when he saved her in Chapter 21.

“The weak should learn to survive on their own. No one will help them. Do everything you can, by fair means or foul. Give up everything in your past… even yourself. If you can’t do that, then go back to the world you came from.”

Which is a little nice touch because Helios appears to save her again with his Evol- but this time, MC is saving the world in her own way. She is not identifying with QUEEN first- but as herself. She had seen and been through so much pain to grow her mental and emotional strength to persevere and save this world with her kindness and love for humanity. MC, herself, has evolved.

Chapter 24-10

Cyril: “Not going to give the button to the launch a push? Perhaps you’ve forgotten, this is only my dream. Any decision you make here won't affect the outside world. Aren't you at least curious? The perfect world I wanted.”

What is the meaning of existence in a world of unrealistic perfection!?

MC: “If I do that, wouldn’t I be like an ostrich, sticking my head into the sand?”

Cyril: “If people found the perfect pile of “sand”, who knows if they’d stick with reality- and choose not to escape? After all, in reality, no one can predict what's going to happen from second to second. But in a perfect dream, everything always unfolds exactly as people desire.”

MC: “I can’t answer that for others. But it shows that the decision for how to answer should be left for each individual person.”

Cyril: “The way I see it, those who have no ability to judge never had the right to choose in the first place.”

Naturally, traitor though he was, he was still like others in Black Swan, holding a disdain for normal people, deep in his bones. When he rebelled against wasn't the thinking of the organisation, but their methods. But no matter which method of theirs it was, they all wanted to force their ideology on the whole world.

Did the world really need their brand of reason? Did humanity really need their idea of progress?

Everything in existence follows its own, original path, with absolutely no need for human intervention. And what I had to do was to maintain this balance.

I abruptly placed the remote back in his hand and told him my final decision.

It’s clear that Cyril doesn’t have that much experience with normalcy or identifies with at least humanity. He believes that it’s better to ignore reality and to live in a dream without the memories of the past or mourn the loss of others. Frozen without emotions, pain, or progress- the “perfect world”.

Chapter 25-4

After MC accepts her QUEEN identity, she finally uses that power to unite all timelines ultimately defeating Cyril, then returns back to the original world. Weirdly, he appears in front of her when she wakes up.

Cyril: “I believed I warned you long ago, no matter what world it is, it doesn't make much of a difference. You assume too much. In this world, I am just like you, a normal person. Think of it… as the price I’ve paid. My choice… was made for you. You were growing too slowly. Maybe that world was best suited for you after all. Too bad, you were too muddled to realise it. This world may soon experience a change, and it’s the kind of change that has nothing to do with you.

Time Subway

Time Subway takes place before Cyril leaves, after MC is hospitalised in Chapter 32. It reveals more about MC’s power and spiritual connection to Loveland City, the rest of the worlds and their timelines.

They meet on the train, though MC can’t remember meeting Cyril before. His piano music continues to play as the train moves backwards. (And that’s the thing about the subway- the train goes in cycles to each station, to the memories and worlds MC has previously lived in.)

Chapter 5

MC: “This train is really strange. It’s going backwards.”

Cyril: “Does the direction really matter? Though, I’ve never been on a subway train. Perhaps, there are a few imperfections.”

MC: “How did you get on the train?”

Cyril: “Same as you, I guess.”

MC: “Do you know where this train is going?”

Cyril: “To a place you want to be. So embrace your imagination. Think of everything you ever wanted. Eventually we will arrive at the perfect ending you’ve longed for.”

Chapter 6

MC: “I feel like I’m forgetting something. My memory has been foggy ever since I boarded this train.”

Cyril: “You do know me. You have to recall those memories on your own. Do you want to remember everything? Or, do you prefer to give up the past and start again right here?”

Cyril seemed to be hinting something, I felt that he’d always use such implicit language, but I couldn't remember when…

Chapter 7

Somehow this train gave me a sense of security. I could feel a familiar resonance between us. As if it was closely linked to me in the first place.

A thought slowly came to my mind, maybe I could decide on its direction at some point in time.

MC: “Why do you want me to go to the past?”

Cyril: “Back to when everything hadn’t taken place, isn’t that what you wanted? I’m only doing this for you. Sorry I didn’t ask for your permission. But you’ll be my best work.”

Chapter 8

Cyril: “This world belongs to you. My power doesn’t work here. I’m nothing more than a normal person in the real world. I’m going to use my power one last time. And this will be my final work. A perfect world is still what I’m after. It was you who broke free from the world I created. You showed me my limit. Indeed, the power triggered by your emotion outshined my skills. That’s why I chose your spiritual world, as the raw material of my final work.”

MC: “So this is just an infinite cycle within my spiritual word, isn’t it?”

Cyril: “I won’t say you are wrong. In this train, you can choose any stop and choose any exit you want. When you step out, this world becomes more complete. Meanwhile, this dream will continue the everlasting cycle, which is also your karma.”

MC: “So do I stay here?”

Cyril: “You can choose to leave… if you have the power to battle yourself. If you leave, this world will continue to exist all independent from all time space.”

MC: “How do I leave?”

Cyril: “You have to discover that for yourself.”

MC: “...Cyril, I need to go. If there’s really a perfect world you want, just take this world as my gift to you.”

Cyril: “I see, thank you... If only you could eventually put an end to this cycle.”

Chapter 32-1

Cyril- “I came to say goodbye.”

MC: “All that stuff that happened to me after losing my Evol has something to do with you. Starting from when “I ran into you” on the train, it was all a part of your plan.”

He smiled slightly, met my hostile gaze without a hint of displeasure. He didn’t deny it, but he didn’t admit it either. There was an undercurrent of tension to the stillness, but also some unusual and subtle peace.

This pianist… I’ve never seen anyone so out of touch with the world.

MC: “The vending machine, the scammer in the square, thorns on a flower, you don’t have much experience with everyday things, do you?”

Cyril: “However, it really has been a long time since anyone’s talked with me about such things.”

I may have been imagining it, but I seemed to detect a hint of nostalgia in his voice.

MC: “Just what are you after, coming here to see me like this?”

As he spoke, he reached out and put his hand at the back of mine. His fingers were ice cold.

But in this brief moment, a flurry of images flashed before my eyes.

Four white walls, an empty room, a triangular piano of translucent crystal placed in the corner. The figure of a man gradually emerged before the piano bench.

His thin graceful fingers danced daintily across the keys as snowflakes fell upon him and settled undisturbed.

That gentle piano melody reverberating in the shadows also came out as a muttered groan from the girl as pain hit her.

Suddenly, the piano playing intensified, the tempo building to a frenzy like a subway train rattling through a tunnel.

I saw a boy get up from the piano, walk to the front of the stage, and take a bow to the thunderous roar of applause.

The scene shifted. The boy was once again standing in the gloomy storm, holding a white rose to his chest, listening in silence to a priest delivering a eulogy.

??: “Keep playing, Little Cyril. Use your power and help Mummy make the perfect world.”

Cyril: “A perfect world… I’ve got it.”

I saw his past, present and future. I saw the boy slowly growing up and playing that final melody in the centre of a frozen plain. He played tirelessly, as if he’s trapped inside in a world of memory.

Cyril: “Can you tell me what you saw?”

In those crystal clear eyes, I saw my own expression, and there was an ineffable expression of sadness to them.

MC: “Is a perfect creation… really that important?”

Cyril’s eyes were flat, like the negative space in an ink wash painting.

Cyril: “The sad fact is that they will never be able to achieve it.”

MC: “But absolute perfection doesn’t exist. Everything has blemishes and faults. But that doesn’t mean that they’re not good enough, and it certainly doesn’t mean that they don’t have a right to exist in this world.”

Cyril: “Perhaps. You’ve certainly proven that point yourself. One final thing before I go, of course, you can choose not to believe it. Perfection has never been an illusion; everything in this world has a singular, perfectly-suited exit. Although, I think you already found it.”

MC: “Where are you going?”

Cyril: “A world that belonged to you, but now belongs to me. Thank you for the world you’ve given me, and the interesting memories. And that bubble tea, I quite like the flavour.”

His words fell softly, as if shrouding me in a tranquil, pure white dream.

Upon seeing his past, present and future, all that MC sees is Cyril playing the piano. It turns out, his true motivation for creating the “perfect world” was for his mother when she passed. With MC’s help, he finally admits that it cannot be achieved. He isn’t directly hostile like the other Black Swan members either, and calmly admits his defeat and accepts MC’s decision.

Behind the Curtain- 6 (Chapter 28)

??: “If you want to see it, go. The door being opened will be closed soon.”

The black box grows bigger, and fills the entire vision in black-

Cyril: “Do you know the origin of the name BLACK SWAN?”

I see an elegant young man standing inside a luxury gift shop. There, piano pieces are playing. He looked down at me. The black box reflects in the cool eyes looking a lot like snow.

MC: “Am I inside the box?”

Cyril: “BLACK SWAN” is a word that means an unexpected event. Humans have no way to predict the impact of the event. When I first heard their name, I immediately saw the appeal. I also wanted to be a part of it. But…the majority of them still live in this illusion. Only a few were aware that humanity is ignorant. They can't help me to complete my work.”

While speaking, he pressed the crystal piano keyboard. The jolting sound echoes—

Cyril’s Mum: “With your power, continue this and please show me the perfect world.”

The woman lies on bed, looking at him with those beautiful eyes that looked a lot like that boy’s. There’s no strength in them.

Cyril’s Mum: “For one last time, I want to experience the beauty of this world with my whole being. That’s also the reason for your existence.”

The boy then grows up in the snowstorm and turns into an innocent boy. His outline became sharp, becoming an elegant young man.

The snowy wind pushes the window open and surrounds his mother. She then transforms into white snow and suddenly disappears.

The man doesn’t notice the occurring snowstorm, but instead concentrates on the graceful piano playing.

A piece of glass shatters and lands on the piano. The young man engrossed in playing keeps an eye on the keys.

MC: “Look out!”

The piece of glass cuts the young man’s long finger. A line of blood flows, on the skin like ice and snow.

The young man finally stops. As if time had been frozen, the lingering sound of the piano remained in the room covered with heavy snow.

He looks up. Like an innocent puzzled child who touched the piano for the first time, those eyes come into mind.

Cyril: “Who…are you?”

MC: “...who am I?”

Cyril had been stuck all this time within his memory of his promise to his mother- in pursuit of the “perfect world”. His world was biased upon thinking that humanity- even Evolvers, were ignorant and unable to help him achieve his goals. This demonstrates the divide and individuation between each Black Swan member of not being able to work together effectively to achieve the collective goal- of the “New World”.

It was nice to see MC being able to overcome her self-doubt and enter Black Cabin by accepting the QUEEN title in a world so foreign to her. Her hope, love and determination had saved the world again. Cyril played a huge part in this chapter of her life, almost like prepping her for the final prophecy of fate.

And “Doomsday” is coming.

[faeroviolet]

Mystery chocopie(fanfic)

Content:

⚫ English version

⚫ Русская версия(внизу)

Сredits: Studio au by @zu-is-here​ other in the end, since It’s the spoiler...

Attention: there can be many letters, words and sentences here. Contains Out of Character(OOC), a lot of humor, hellcrazy, anarchy of imagination, strange action anomaly and other weird thing... Sorry, not sorry...

There can be mistakes because ... no one has ever said whether I write English badly or not. They never said at all whether my stories were interesting or they like them, they never said anything at all. Nothing ,_,

   Today is such a wonderful day: a clear blue sky with a bright sun shining above. It's about 1pm now. And the work at the studio is in full swing. Despite the bustle that soars throughout the pavilion, there is a sense of calm and peace. This's a kind of harmony that nothing can break, except...

Sudden crash and noise. The shout coming from the room was so loud that it could be heard outside. Even a small bird, peacefully sleeping on a branch, had to wake up abruptly and also hastily leave its seat, sleepily flapping its wings. What's going on? Someone is being killed... or given to domestic violence?! If someone passed by, then from what he heard, the soul would go into his heels and would not dare to climb out of there before its owner gets to the house, you never know what you can imaginate.

As they say: there's no smoke without fire. So who started the fire? It's easy to find out by watching what is happening through the window of the third floor.

A skeleton with purple lights in his eye sockets spoke in raised tones with the same skeleton as him, only the pupils were golden in color. Apparently the first one scolded the second one for something:

“Dream, where are choco-pies?!” Without stopping to ask the same question, Nightmare fiercely poked his finger into a silver tray, on which crumbs from the sweets that were recently lying there were still visible.

“N-nightmare, I didn't touch anything.“ Still defending himself with the same response, Dream held out his palms in front of himself.

“Don’t lie!!! When I came here you were rummaging around in the lockers, and there was already an empty tray on the table. How do you explain this to me?“

“Firstly, I came and everything was like this.” The light-eyed skeleton tried to calm the unexpected ardor of his brother. “Secondly, what are you talking about? And... why did it make you so angry?”

“Ugh, I brought some tasty treats to everyone... Or did you not see when we were going?” Nightmare breathed deeply. “I put them on a tray, but especially for myself I put one on another plate and put it where no one would take it for sure.” He pointed to the kitchen table behind where the mentioned utensil item was. “There were 99 choco-pies and one mine: generally - 100! And all of them are gone! What can you say to that, brother?”

“Oh, Nighty, I don't know. I didn't even look that way.”

“But where could they just go? So many...”

For a moment, Nightmare stopped and thought, his anger subsided. He walked over to the wall and sat down in a small armchair, putting his finger to his chin and looking up at the ceiling. Dream decided to join the pondering of this situation and sat down in a armchair nearby. But, unfortunately, not a single thought entered their skulls. Of course, how could this happen? It is simply impossible for such a large amount to disappear at once! Nightmare, desperate to find a clue to this mystery, sighed and slightly wilted: he did the wrong thing, yelling at Dream. After all, his brother isn’t guilty of anything, and he, hastening to conclusions, cursed him like that. He ought to apologize, so turned to him, about to say this, but his gaze caught on something else, and he stopped before even started.

Just in the corridor passed another skeleton, his eye sockets were hollow and faint black streaks were visible on the cheekbones below them. He greedily licked the bones of his fingers and was about to go to his room, when Nightmare ran into him. He looked at him dumbfounded, and Killer did not at all understand the meaning of the look of this weirdo.

“What's wrong... Nightmare?”

“It's you!” The skeleton with purple eyelights shouted right into his nonexistent ears.

Immediately after Nightmare, Dream ran up. He anxiously began to drag his brother, who was firmly caught on the other’s shoulders, muttering something about stepping on the same rake. The older twin calmed down a bit, and both skeletons, along with Killer, returned to their armchairs. The brothers settled down on the seats, and the last one continued to stand beside him, still not delving into what was happening. What was the problem?

“What actually happened?” Killer nevertheless asked the question that tormented him, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head to the side.

“It's just that Nightmare was furious that someone ate 100 choco-pies, among which was his, specially postponed!“ The younger twin said unceremoniously. At this explanation of the situation, Nightmare slightly frowned: the manner in which it was pronounced, he didn’t like.

“Because you obviously have something to eat... Look! How tou smiled and slobbering your fingers!”

Killer reacted calmly to such a stinging statement.

“Oh, this...” With a sly grin, he licked his still sweet finger once more. “Ccino and I were playing.”

“What?! Without me?” Nightmare almost fell from his chair and, jumping up from his seat, wanted to be indignant, but stopped and, slightly blushing, glanced nervously at Dream. He cleared his throat and continued: “Umm, I mean... Stop wandering around idle!”

“Oh! Do you know what?” The empty-eyed exclaimed immediately, as if nothing had happened, not paying attention to Night's embarrassment at all. Brothers looked at him as if they were listening intently, waiting for him to continue. “We need to check something! Let's go.”

Killer led them long and tediously along many corridors. And where to? They stopped at a dressing room, and their favorite guide, who took the fellow travelers into the wilderness*, knocked on the door. Not hearing a response from there, he happily opened it. Having walked a little inside and, at the same time looking around just in case, Killer gestured to the dummies to come in.

Once in the room, the brothers didn’t know what to expect further from the miracle without a skirt*, so they just watched his actions. And he quickly and surely rushed forward to some picture, which depicted peaches and daisies, and held out his hands to it. Oh, what a shock and surprise was on the faces of Dream and Nightmare when they saw what was behind the beautiful 'masterpiece'. And it even seemed to them that at that moment on Killer’s forehead could read: “I can look at you for eternity, and I'll never get tired of it!”.

“Shh! It's a secret.” He put his finger to his mouth conspiratorially.

“What's this?! Safe?” Immediately Nightmare shouted, but then lowered his tone, as if catching this vibe of secrets and conspiracies. "What's there?”

“I'll open it now and you will find out!” The main 'conspirator' said happily.

“Do you have a code?” Dream was surprised.

“Yep, what did you think? I put it on.“ He grunted in response, dialing the numbers on the display.

When the device sounded, notifying about the correctness of the entered sequence, Killer opened the door and turned to those present with a solemn “Ta-da!”. Not hearing a standing ovation or at least some ooh-ooh, he stalled and turned to the safe, entering into a stupor finally. Empty... There was...

“Empty!” He screamed with a tragic tone and hung on the iron monster. He would have cried, but he was stopped here with questions.

��And what was supposed to be here, smart guy?” Night asked, apparently pleased with his suffering.

“There..." ‘The Drama Queen’ sniffed and rubbed his eye socket. "There must have been my chocolates hidden away for a rainy day.”

“Hidden away, you say?” Nightmare frowned, walked closer to Killer and pulled on himself, looking terribly right into the void of his eye sockets.

“Well, well, Nighty, let the poor man go.” Lisping, his brother gently sang, touching other's shoulder. "He's a victim. The same as we do. Lost..." Dream also made an overly dramatic look. " ...His precious!”

Nightmare groaned painfully and exhaustedly and let go of the poor 'puppy'. They went back to the place where the first incident took place. On the way, Dream and Killer were laughing so hard that it seemed that they could be heard even 100 kilometers away! Simply unbearable... for Nightmare! When they got to the right place, the three detectives sat down at the table, thinking about the "Case of missing the sweet treasure". The name Killer gave. And this picture, which was drawn by an unknown creator, is called "Three knights at the table with crumbs of dead cakes". Another Killer’s joke.

They sat and sat while the wall clock ticked. But nothing came into their heads: not a single sensible thought, not a single guess. It was so upsetting. After all, the situation itself was unusual: it was very puzzling and did not allow believing in its existence. So what's the point? Do keep thinking about it? Dream has been thinking only about these questions lately. To be honest, he wasn’t so interested in it, besides, there are still so many things to do. But something held him back: the reason his brother was so obsessed with it. He wanted to figure it out. Why was Nightmare so angry? Why did he keep on raging? Why is this important to him? It's all so complicated... Dream sighed and lay down on his elbows on the table. He was drawn to sleep, but before he could even close his eyes, someone touched his shoulders.

“Dream, have you seen my chocolate juice?" The skeleton turned around and patted his eyes, met with a familiar and beloved face. Cross stood looking at him for a while, but then turned away and walked to the trash can by the wall. “Maybe it's here somewhere?”

“Cross, don't dig in the trash!" Dream blew up. "Then you need...”

“Found!" The skeleton exclaimed happily, pulling out a box from under some drink from a plastic container. He quickly got up from his knees and walked straight back to the crowd, beaming.

“Cross, you won't drink... from this?" The yellow-eyed skeleton crossed his arms in displeasure.

“Aah... There is already nothing." Cross exhaled in frustration, turning to the others. "By the way, what are you doing here?”

“For your information, garbage rat..." Killer began jokingly.

"What rat?" Indignantly, Cross banged his palm on the table in front of the insolent skeleton .

"So you agree with 'garbage’?" He didn’t calm down, to which he received an evil glance from Nightmare:

“Stop here... throw name-calling! Preventing thinking...”

“What are you thinking about?” Cross inquired again, sitting down on a chair.

“It's just that we have lost something here... that is, I'm listing: 100 choco-pies brought by Nightmare, and Killer's black stock of chocolate.” The younger twin explained to the dear one, tenderly singing every word.

“Hmm...” The two-color-eyed thought. “Do you know? Something similar happened to me.”

“In what sense?”

“Look...” He put an empty box on the table, Dream frowned at this a little, but then relaxed, deciding not to show his displeasure to the dirt. “I was busy with my own business, along the way drinking my juice. I turned away for a minute and... Wow! It has gone.”

Now a fourth has joined their team. But even with additional strength, nothing came of it, and time passed. Something, but this cannot be stopped, just like getting out of this web of problems. Outside the window could already be seen a motley orange-red sky — it’s evening. Imagine, they spent almost half a day on this! Unimaginable! And in the end came to nothing... These're the worst of all. Everyone, except Nightmare, got up and decided to go home already. Dream stopped, waiting for his brother, who continued to sit and incinerate the wooden surface with a piercing gaze of concentration.

“Find, let's go home, it's too late. Why do you need this? It has already happened and that's it...” He touched the shoulders of the elder, trying to reach his mind and induce him to quit.

“I have an idea!” Suddenly Nightmare jumped up and exclaimed, attracting everyone's attention. “Let's stay here and set a trap for the sweet tooth thief!”

Killer and Cross began to exchange glances, and then looked expectantly at Dream, who was standing behind Nightmare. Catching their glances, he sighed and with a gesture, as it were, showed that there was no choice. Brother got too carried away, that's all.

~~~

   The wind is blowing, you can hear it howling ... Someone didn’t close the window or the walls are so thin here? To tell the truth, at such a late hour the studio rooms look scary, and the strange rustle and blue moonlight creates the atmosphere of some kind of horror movie or vampire romance. And yet why did they start it? What if something bad happens? Cross didn’t understand all this, as well as why he got involved in this. But there's nothing to do, only breathing relaxes.

“But I warn you!” It seems that all the gloom of the environment didn’t attract Killer in any way, or he simply ignored the wariness of other participants in this idea. "This is the last chocolate bar that I have, so you, Nightmare, will owe me one more...”

“Yes, yes, yes...” But other's arrogance did not hurt at all. Nightmare was already busy arranging inventory for a makeshift trap, and distraction wasn’t his priority.

“And a box of chocolates sweets for moral damage!” Killer crossed his arms over his chest as if he were some kind of offended lady of high society. To this, only a long exhalation was heard, and Nightmare, rising and crossing his arms, like the other skeleton, rolled his eyes, and then said:

“Anything you order, madam.”

At such an treatment, the aforementioned 'Queen' fell into a stupor and, swaying back and forth on his feet, turned away, hiding a shame-and-shy blush. Oh, how shameless he’s! And Nightmare also gave a fire: he still has no idea how ambiguous he sometimes speaks! But this’s nothing, Killer knows what he’ll do late... But now he need to satisfy the Nightmare's desire to catch the unknown. And Nightmare had just finished and came up to tell the plan:

“Killer will put the bait there, and we'll watch in turn, okay?”

After receiving agreement in the form of nods, Nightmare headed for the exit into the corridor. When Killer asked where he was going, the skeleton waved his hand, indicating that his curious nose was not the case. Snorting at that, Killer went back to the others and joined in, taking a seat behind the barricade of armchairs.

Time passed for a long, in the emptiness of the room the ticking of the clock was heard very clearly and distinctly, even annoying. Nothing happened at all. Nothing! Killer turned to his teammates and frowned. They have already managed to doze off, nestling at each other's sides. What a bum! He sighed... After all, it’s true: the whole thing was initially meaningless. They simply cannot find the one who has committed all the atrocities. And one more strange thing... Nightmare hasn't come yet. And where has our commander gone? Wasn't that so important to him? The skeleton rose from the floor and stretched, kneading the bones of his arms.

He’s so tired, and until Nightmare returns there is no way to leave: it will somehow come out rudly. Killer glanced at the trap and covered his mouth, ready to yawn.

“Even if no one shows up, he will owe me one mo-”

Without even having time to breathe, the skeleton shuddered and slightly choked. For a moment it seemed to him that he saw someone's figure. Having brought himself to more or less calmness, Killer hastened to wake up two sleeping ‘kittens’.

“Uugh! Killer, we agreed: you are watching first, and we are watching later!” Cross grumbled displeased, trying not to raise the tone too much so as not to frighten Dream.

“But this’s important!”

“Your jokes cannot be important...”

“Cross, that's enough...” A little rubbing his right eye socket and yawning, Dream hissed. “Maybe it's really important. What is it, Killer?”

“It seems to me that I saw someone.”

“If it seems, go to the ophthalmologist.*” Cross interjected, narrowing his eyes.

“But it's true! We are alone here and no one else can be, it is unnerving. And also...” The next words the skeleton muttered so that they couldn’t be made out. “Nightmare went somewhere and didn’t return.”

“So, calm down, both.“ Dream tried to cool the guys, and then, looking around, he continued: “Let's see if our ‘uninvited guest’ took the sweet bait.”

Cross didn't want to believe it, but Killer was right along the way that there was an outsider in the building: there was no chocolate on the table. So what should they do next? After all, apparently, they have already missed the ‘criminal’. But there was another snag...

“Uh... brother still doesn’t return.” The skeleton with yellow eyes, which under the light of the moon sparkled with a golden hue, said quietly and sadly.

“By the way, I also thought about it...” Killer spread his arms and shook his head.

“Since he started all this, we'll only find out further actions from him.” Cross said, leaning on the table. “Let's go look for him...”

Agreeing with this idea, they went out into the corridor. It was a long and terrible journey. It was much darker in here than in that room. It seems that not only the wind can be heard, but also a rustle and some kind of grinding. This began to strain not only Cross, who was uncomfortable here from the very beginning, but also Dream. He pressed against the other skeleton even tighter, and, even despite the circumstances, It’s caused some warm feelings inside two-color-eyed and a faint blush on his cheeks.

The sudden clink of broken glass made the skeletons flinch and draw attention to it. They hurried to find out what was going on there, and froze, turning the corner. There was a figure standing not far from the shards of a vase lying on the floor. It seemed familiar, but... Who could it be? Squinting, Killer was the first to guess:

“Nightmare!!!” Rays of bluish light emerged from the curtains covering the window, illuminating half of the above-named skeleton. “What are you doing?”

The empty-eyed skeleton came closer and touched the other's shoulder. Nightmare flinched, dropping something from his hands, and slowly turned his head, looking into the face of his friend with an view as if he had just recently woken up. This greatly surprised the other skeleton, so he tilted his head to the side, waiting for answers, but without waiting for anything, he paid attention to the object that was lying on the floor. Killer bent down and took it in his hands. Looking closely, he was able to determine that it was... no wonder, chocolate! Not just any, but that one! Killer was sure. But he couldn’t understand what that could mean.

Dream and Cross didn't understand either. They approached with Killer, but all this time they were just silent. Everyone was so confused that they didn't even know what to say. Even Nightmare himself was shocked.

"Highty..." After a while his brother said quietly, drawing attention to himself. "So you're a lunatic? I didn't notice before...”

“I ... I ...” He darted his gaze across the dark room and fiddled with the phalanges of his fingers. “I don't even know what to say, guys..."

“So maybe you did it all?" Killer said, rising from the floor and continuing to hold the sweet bar in his hand. The violet-eyed skeleton lowered its head apologetically at his words. But it seems that this wasn’t enough for the other skeleton, so he decided to list all the crimes committed: "You personally ate all the choco-pies that you yourself brought. You ate my supply of chocolate. You drank Cross' juice. And the worst thing: you blamed everyone for this, even your own brother!”

"I'm sorry! Really." The skeleton exclaimed, ashamed and humiliated to the very bottom “I wanted to apologize to Dream, but! Lost on you. Sorry, I really don't know what came over me!”

“Don’t mind, brother.” Dream intervened, hugging him soothingly. "I’m not angry. I guess... you're just overtired. And, perhaps, from this you sleepwalk. I told you not to overexert yourself.”

And now: the solution to this mystery has come. They can already go home, but it wasn’t end! There was one thing that did not tie into all the facts at all...

“And yet, Killer, you are in something wrong " Cross held out thoughtfully, putting his finger to his chin, staring at the toes of his shoes.

"Hmm, and in what?" He grunted, putting his hands on his hips.

“Nightmare may have eaten the choco-pies and drank my juice, but he couldn't break open the safe while he was unconscious. Something doesn't add up.”

"But who cou-”

Suddenly, some rustling distracted Killer, not allowing him to finish the question. There was a grinding and a strange rumbling sound. It attracted the others: turning, they stared into the darkness that covered the half of the room. Something flashed in the depths, and disturbing sounds intensified. The skeletons stepped back, huddled together and huddled against each other. The terrible lights resembled the eyes of some creature. What could it be? It approached, forcing them to retreat in fear closer to the bend. A little more and it will be possible to find out what was hidden in the black haze. The last clinking step and...

“Meow!”

Friends screamed and rushed away. Without turning around, they walked away from danger in disgrace. Was there any danger in that? It's just a cute little kitty. Maybe such a dark atmosphere allowed their fantasy to play out? No one can know for sure. And is this really the end?

“Hey, guys? What were you doing here?” The skeleton in a beige sweater, smiling sweetly under the moonlight, lifted a white cat.

This, of course, was an unexpected turn. But shouldn't we be asking this question, Ccino? After all, they never find out about it. Just as they do not know what scared them that night. This also applies to... So who ate Killer's chocolate? True, there were many questions in this story. And you might think you've knew the answers to all of them, but no. This is an erroneous assumption.

This is something to which there is no answer. Since all these riddles must remain unsolved. And only you yourself will understand what is true and what is false. You decide how you answer.

*  — In those places marked with this sign, there should have been Russian jokes... but you won't understand them(nobody can), so this may seem like very strange sentences.

Credits: Dream and Nightmare by jokublog Cross!Sans by jakei95 Killer!Sans by rahafwabas Ccino!Sans by black-nyanko

BOOOOM, explosion of my brain.

Hmm... That's all, and I forgot what I wanted to say at the end.

So... now I go.

Так, так, тут есть предупреждения: большой текст, слабым на много буковок и мало картинок не смотреть, тут есть ООС(потому что по-другому я не могу), адское безумие, анархия воображения, вам может показаться, что происходящее здесь это полный бред, хотя да, так и есть, тут должно быть смешно.

“Таинственный чокопай”(фанфик)

   Сегодня такой чудесный день: ясное голубое небо с сияющем вышине ярким солнцем. Сейчас где-то час дня. А работа на студии кипит. Несмотря на суету, витающую по всему павильону, ощущается какое-то спокойствие и умиротворение. Это эдакая гармония, которую ничто не может нарушить, разве что...

Внезапный грохот и шум. Крики, доносящиеся из комнаты, были настолько громкими, что их было слышно на улице. Даже маленькой птичке, мирно спящей на ветке, пришлось резко проснуться и также поспешно покинуть насиженное место, спросонья еле хлопая крыльями. Что же происходит? Кого-то убивают... или придают домашнему насилию?! Если бы кто-то проходил мимо, то от услышанного у него бы душа в пятки ушла и не посмела бы оттуда вылазить до того, как её хозяин доберется до дома, мало ли, что можно понапридумывать.

Как говорится: нет дыма без огня. Так кто же устроил пожар? Это легко выяснить, пронаблюдав происходящие через окно третьего этажа.

Скелет с фиолетовыми огнями в глазницах говорил на повышенных тонах с таким же скелетом, как и он, только того зрачки были золотистого цвета. Видимо первый за что-то ругал второго:

— Дрим, где чокопаи?! — не унимаясь задавать один и тот же вопрос, Найтмер яростно тыкал пальцем в серебряный поднос, на котором ещё виднелись крошки от недавно лежащих там вкусняшек.

— Н-найтмер, я ничего не трогал — все продолжая защищаться одним и тем же ответом, Дрим выставил ладони перед собой.

— Не ври!!! Когда я пришел ты здесь шарился в шкафчиках, а на столе уже стоял пустой поднос. Как ты мне это объяснишь?

— Во-первых, я пришел, и все было таким — светлоглазый скелет пытался унять неожиданный пыл своего брата. — Во-вторых, о чем ты говоришь? И... почему тебя это так разозлило?

— Агх, я принес всем вкусняшки... Или ты не видел, когда мы собирались? — глубоко выдохнул Найтмер. — Поставил все на поднос, но специально для себя отложил один на другую тарелку и поставил там, где точно не возьмут. — он указал на кухонный стол позади, где находился выше указанный элемент посуды. — Было 99 чокопаев и один мой: в итоге — 100! И всех их нет! Что ты можешь на это сказать, брат?

— Ох, Найти, не знаю. Я даже не смотрел в ту сторону.

— Но куда же они могли просто так деться? Столько...

На мгновение Найтмер остановился и задумалась, его злость стихла. Он отошел к стене и сел в небольшое кресло, приложив палец к подбородку и подняв взор к потолку. Дрим решил присоединится к обдумыванию этой ситуации и присел в кресло, находящееся рядом. Но, к сожалению, ни единая мысль не приходила в их черепушки. Конечно же, как такое могло произойти? Просто невозможно, чтобы такое большое количество в раз и исчезло! Найтмер от отчаяния найти разгадку на эту тайну вздохнул и слегка поник: неправильно он поступил, накричав на Дрима. Ведь его брат в ничем не виноват, а он, поспешив с выводами, обругал его так. Нужно бы извинится. Он повернулся к нему, собираясь сказать это, но зацепился взглядом за кое-что другое и остановился, даже не начав.

Как раз в коридоре проходил другой скелет, его глазницы были полыми и еле заметные черные потеки виднелись на скулах под ними. Он жадно облизывал кости пальцев и собирался идти в свою комнату, как на него налетел Найтмер. Тот ошалело смотрел на него, и Киллер совсем не понимал значения взгляда этого чудика.

— Что такое... Найтмер?

— Это ты! — закричал ему прямо в несуществующие уши скелет с фиолетовыми глазами.

Сразу же после Найтмера подбежал и Дрим. Он обеспокоенно начал оттаскивать крепко зацепившегося за чужие плечи брата, бурча что-то про наступление на одни и те же грабли. Старший близнец все же немного успокоился, и оба скелета вместе с Киллером вернулись к креслам. Братья разместились на сидениях, а последний продолжил стоять рядом, все ещё не вникая в происходящее. В чем же была проблема?

— А что в общем-то случилось? — все-таки задал терзающий его вопрос Киллер, скрестив руки на груди и наклонив голову на бок.

— Да просто Найтмер взбесился от того, что кто-то съел 100 чокопаев, среди которых был и его, специально отложенный! — не церемонясь, заявил младший близнец. На такое объяснение ситуации Найтмер слегка нахмурился: манера, с которой оно было произнесено, ему не понравилась.

— Да потому что ты явно чем-то полакомился... Вон! Как улыбался и пальцы свои слюнявил!

Киллер спокойно отреагировал на такое язвительное высказывание.

— Ах, это... — он с хитрой ухмылкой ещё раз лизнул все ещё сладкий палец. — Мы с Чино игрались.

— Что?! Без меня? — Найтмер чуть не грохнулся с кресла и, подскочив с места, хотел было возмутится, но осекся и, слегка покраснев, нервно глянул на Дрима. Прокашлявшись, продолжил: — То есть... Прекрати без делу шататься!

— Ох! А знаете что? — тут же как в ничем не бывало воскликнул пустоглазый, совсем не обратив внимание на смущение Найта. Братья посмотрели на него, как будто внимательно слушают, ожидая, когда тот продолжит. — Нам нужно кое-что проверить! Идемте.

Вел их Киллер долго и нудно по множеству коридоров. И куда же? Они остановились у одной гримерки, и их любимый проводник, который завел попутчиков в дебри не пойми куда, постучался в дверь. Не услышав оттуда отклика, он радостно открыл её. Пройдя чуть вовнутрь и, попутно оглядываясь на всякий случай, Киллер жестом пригласил болванчиков на ножка войти.

Оказавшись в комнате, братья не знали, чего ожидать дальше от чуда без юбки, поэтому просто наблюдали за его действиями. А тот быстро и верно ринулся вперед к какой-то картине, на которой были изображены персики и маргаритки, и протянул к ней руки. Ох, какой же шок и удивление было на лицах Дрима и Найтмера, когда они увидели, что находилось за прекрасным “шедевром”. И им даже показалось, что у Киллера в тот момент на лбу можно было прочесть: “Я могу вечность смотреть на вас, и это мне никогда не надоест!”.

— Тсс! Это секрет — заговорщицки прислонил палец ко рту тот.

— Это что?! Сейф? — сразу же крикнул Найтмер, но потом снизил тон, как бы поймав этот вайб секретов и заговоров. — Что там?

— Сейчас открою, и узнаете! — радостно вымолвил главный “заговорщик”.

— У тебя есть код? — удивился Дрим.

— Ага, а как же ты думал? Я ведь его поставил — хмыкнул тот в ответ, набирая цифры на дисплее.

Когда прибор пиликнул, уведомляя о верности введенной последовательности, Киллер отворил дверцу и повернулся к присутствующим с торжественным “Та-да!”. Не услышав оваций или хотя бы каких-то охов-ахов, он застопорился и повернулся к сейфу, войдя в ступор вот окончательно. Пусто... Там было...

— Пусто! — он закричал с трагическим тоном и повис на железном чудовище. Ещё бы чуть-чуть и заплакал, но его тут остановили с расспросами.

— И что же здесь должно было быть, умник? — спросил Найт, видимо, довольный его страданиями.

— Там... — "Королева драмы” шмыгнул носом и потер глазницу. — Должны были быть мои припрятанные на черный день шоколадки.

— Припрятанные, говоришь? — Найтмер нахмурился, подошел ближе к Киллеру и потянул на себя, страшно заглядывая прямо в пустоту глазниц того.

— Ну-ну, Найти, отпусти беднягу — сюсюкаясь, ласково пропел его брат, коснувшись чужого плеча. — Он ведь пострадавший. Так же, как и мы. Потерял... — Дрим тоже сделал чересчур драматический вид. — ...Свою прелесть!

Найтмер страдательно и измученно простонал и отпустил бедного “щеночка”. Они пошли обратно: к месту, где произошло первое происшествие. По пути Дрим и Киллер так ржали, что казалось — их можно было услышать и за 100 километров! Просто невыносимо... для Найтмера! Добравшись до нужного места, трое детективов уселись за столом, задумавшись о “Деле пропажи сладкого сокровища”. Название, которое дал Киллер. А эта картина, которая нарисована неизвестным творцом, называется “Трое рыцарей за столом с крошками убитых пироженок”. Ещё одна Киллеровская шутка. 

Сидели они и сидели, пока настенные часы тикали. Но так ничего в их головы не приходило: ни одна дельная мысль, ни одно предположение. Это так огорчало. Ведь сама ситуация была необычна: сильно озадачивала и не позволяла верить в её существование. Так какой в этом толк? Продолжать размышлять над этим? Дрим вот все последнее время думал лишь над этими вопросами. Ему, если честно, это было неинтересно, так, к тому же, ещё так много дел. Но кое-что все-таки держало его: причина такой одержимости брата за это. Он хотел в этом разобраться. Почему Найтмер так вспылил? Почему продолжал бесится? Почему это важно для него? Это все так сложно... Дрим вздохнул и прилег на локти, расположившись на столе. В сон потянуло, но не успел он прикрыть даже глаза, как кто-то коснулся плеч.

— Дрим, ты не видел мой шоколадный сок? — скелет обернулся и похлопав глазками, встретился с знакомым и любимым лицом. Кросс некоторое время стоял и смотрел на него, но потом отвернулся и пошел к мусорке у стены. — Может ��ыть он где-то здесь?

— Кросс, не ройся в мусоре! — подорвался с места Дрим. — Руки потом...

— Нашел! — воскликнул радостно скелет, вытаскивая из пластикового контейнера коробочку из-под какого-то напитка. Он шустро встал с колен и прямо сияя подошел обратно к сборищу.

— Кросс, ты же не будешь пить... из этого? — недовольно скрестил руки на груди желтоглазый скелет.

— Аах... Там уже ничего нет — расстроенно выдохнул Кросс, обернувшись к остальным. — А, кстати, что вы тут делаете?

— К твоему сведению, помойная крыса... — шутливо начал Киллер.

— Какая крыса? — возмущенно стукнул ладонью о стол перед наглым скелетом Кросс.

— Так значит с “помойная” ты согласен? — не унимался тот, на что получил злой взгляд со стороны Найтмера:

— Кончайте тут... обзывательствами бросаться! Мешаете думать...

— А о чем вы думаете? — поинтересовался снова Кросс, садясь на стул.

— Просто тут у нас кое-что пропало... а то есть, перечисляю: 100 чокопаев, которые принес Найтмер, и черный запас шоколада Киллера — объяснил милому младший близнец, ласково пропев каждое слово. 

— Хм... — задумался разноглазый. — А знаете? У меня произошло кое-что похожее.

— В каком смысле?

— Смотрите... — он поставил на стол пустую коробочку, на это Дрим немножко нахмурился, но потом расслабился, решив не показывать свое недовольство на грязь. — Я был занят своими делами, попутно употребляя мой сок. На минуту отвернулся и... хоба! Он пропал.

Теперь к их команде присоединился четвертый. Но даже с дополнительной силой ничего не выходило, а время шло. Что-что, а это остановить нельзя, как и выбраться из этой паутины проблемы. За окном виднелось уже пестрое оранжево-красное небо — вечереет. Представите себе, они потратили почти пол дня на это! Невообразимо! Так ещё пришли к ничему... Это худшие из всего. Все, кроме Найтмера, встали и решили пойти уже по домам. Дрим остановился, ожидая брата, который продолжал сидеть и испепелять деревянную поверхность пронзительным взглядом сосредоточенности.

— Найти, пошли домой, уже поздно. Ну чего тебе это? Оно уже произошло и все... — он коснулся плеч старшего, пытаясь достучаться до него и побудить бросить это.

— Есть идея! — Неожиданно Найтмер подскочил и воскликнул, привлекая к себе внимание всех. — Останемся здесь и устроим ловушку на воришку-сладкоежку!

Киллер и Кросс начали переглядываться, а потом ожидающе посмотрели на Дрима, стоящего позади Найтмера. Поймав их взгляды, тот вздохнул и жестом как бы показал, что выбора нет. Братик слишком увлекся, вот и все.

~~~

   Ветер дует, слышно его завывание... Кто-то не закрыл окно или стены здесь такие тонкие? По правде говоря, в такое позднее время помещения в студии выглядят страшновато, а странный шорох и лунный синий свет создает атмосферу какого-то фильма ужасов или вампирской романтики. И все-таки зачем они это затеяли? А вдруг что-то плохое случится? Кросс не понимал всего этого, как и то, зачем он в это ввязался. Но делать нечего, лишь вдохи расслабляют.

— Но я предупреждаю! — кажется вся мрачность окружения никак не привлекала Киллера, или же он просто игнорировал настороженность других участников их задумки. — Это последняя шоколадка, что у меня есть, поэтому ты, Найтмер, должен будешь мне ещё одну...

— Да, да, да... — но чужая наглость совсем не задевала. Найтмер и так был занят, расставляя инвентарь для самодельной ловушки, а отвлекаться было не в его приоритетах.

— И коробку конфет за моральный ущерб! — скрестил руки на груди Киллер так, как будто он какая-то обиженная дама высшего общества. На это послышался лишь длинный выдох, а Найтмер, поднявшись и скрестив руки так же, как и другой скелет, закатил глаза, а потом вымолвил:

— Все, что прикажите, госпожа.

На такое обращение выше названная “Королева” встал в ступор и, покачавшись на ступнях взад вперед, отвернулся, скрывая стыдо-срамский румянец. Ох, какой же он бесстыжий! И Найтмер тоже дал жару: все ещё не догадывается насколько он иногда двусмысленно говорит! Но ничего, Киллер знает, что он сделает потом... А сейчас нужно утолить желание Кошмарчика по поимки неизвестного. Тот как раз уже закончил и подошел рассказывать план:

— Киллер положит туда приманку, а мы по очереди будем дежурить, поняли?

Получив согласие в виде кивков, Найтмер направился к выходу в коридор. На вопрос Киллера, куда тот идет, скелет махнул рукой, показывая, что не его любопытного носа дела. Фыркнув на это, Киллер вернулся к остальным и присоединился, присаживаясь за баррикадой из кресел.

Время шло долго, в пустоте комнаты тиканье часов раздавалось очень ярко и отчетливо, даже раздражало. Ничего совсем не происходило. Ничегошеньки! Киллер повернулся к своим напарникам и нахмурился. Те уже успели задремать, примостившись друг у друга под боками. Что за бездельники! Он вздохнул... Ведь верно: все это дело изначально было бессмысленным. Они просто не могут найти того, кто совершил все злодеяния. И ещё одна странная вещь... Найтмер так и не пришел. И куда же наш командир подевался? Разве это не было для него таким важным? Скелет поднялся с пола и потянулся, разминая кости рук.

Он так устал, а пока не вернется Найтмер уйти нет возможности: некрасиво как-то выйдет. Киллер глянул на ловушку и прикрыл рот, готовый зевнуть.

— Даже если никто не заявится, он будет должен мне ещё од...

Не успев даже вдохнуть, скелет вздрогнул и слегка поперхнулся. На мгновение ему показалось, что он видел чью-ту фигуру. Приведя себя в более-менее спокойствие, Киллер поспешил разбудить двух спящих “котят”.

— Аагх! Киллер, договорились же: ты дежуришь первым, а мы — потом! — недовольно ворчал Кросс, стараясь не слишком повышать тон, чтобы не напугать Дрима.

— Но это важно!

— Твои шутки не могут быть важными...

— Кросс, хватит... — чуть потирая правую глазницу и зевая, просипел Дрим. — Может это действительно важно. Что такое, Киллер?

— Мне кажется, что я кого-то видел.

— Если кажется, иди к окулисту — встрял Кросс, прищурившись.

— Но это правда! Мы здесь одни и никто больше не может быть, это нервирует. А ещё... — следующие слова скелет так пробубнил, что их невозможно было разобрать. — Найтмер куда-то ушел и так и не вернулся.

— Так, успокойтесь оба — попытался охладить ребят Дрим, а потом, расценочно осмотревшись, продолжил: — Давайте посмотрим, взял ли наш “незваный гость” сладкую наживку.

Кросс не хотел в это верить, но по ходу Киллер был прав, что в здании находится посторонний: шоколадки на столике не было. Ну и что же им делать дальше? Ведь, по всей видимости, они уже упустили “преступника”. Но была ещё одна загвоздка...

— Чего то братик все ещё не возвращается — тихо и печально проговорил скелет с желтыми глазами, которые под светом луны сверкнули золотистым оттенком.

— Я, кстати, тоже об этом думал... — развел руки и покачал головой Киллер.

— Так как он все это затеял, то будем выяснять дальнейшие действия лишь у него — изрек Кросс, облокотившись о стол. — Пойдемте его искать...

Согласившись с этой идеей, они вышли в коридор. Это был долгий и страшный путь. Здесь было намного темнее, чем в той комнате. Кажется слышен не только ветер, но и шорох и какой-то скрежет. Это начало напрягать не только Кросса, которому с самого начало было дискомфортно находится здесь, но и Дрима. Тот прижимался к другому скелету ещё крепче, и, даже не смотря на обстоятельства, у разноглазого это вызывало некие теплые ощущения внутри и слабый румянец на щеках.

Внезапный звон разбитого стекла заставил скелетов вздрогнуть и обратить на себя внимание. Они поспешили выяснить, что там происходит, и застыли, завернув за угол. Там была фигура, стоящая неподалеку от лежащих на полу осколков вазы. Она казалось знакомой, но... Кто же это может быть? Прищурившись, Киллер первым догадался:

— Найтмер!!! — из закрывающие окно шторы проклюнулись лучики голубоватого света, озаряющего половину вышеназванного скелета. — Что ты делаешь?

Пустоглазый скелет подошел ближе и коснулся чужого плеча. Найтмер вздрогнул, роняя что-то из рук, и медленно повернул голову, взглянув в лицо друга с таким видом, как будто только недавно проснулся. Это очень сильно удивило другого скелета, поэтому он наклонил голову в бок, ожидая ответов, но, так и не дождавшись ничего, обратил внимание на предмет, который лежал на полу. Киллер наклонился и взял это в руки. Присмотревшись, он смог определить, что это... как неудивительно, шоколадка! И не просто какая-нибудь, а та самая! Киллер был уверен. Но он никак не мог понять, что это может значить.

Дрим и Кросс тоже ничего не понимали. Они подошли вместе с Киллером, но все это время только молчали. Все находились в таком замешательстве, что даже не знали, что и сказать. Даже сам Найтмер был в шоке.

— Найти... — через некоторое время тихо вымолвил его брат, привлекая к себе внимание. — Так ты лунатик? Я раньше не замечал...

— Я... Я... — он метался взглядом по темному помещению и теребил фаланги пальцев. — Даже не знаю, что и сказать, ребята...

— Так может это ты все сделал? — подал голос Киллер, поднимаясь с пола и продолжая держать плитку сладости в руке. На его слова фиолетовоглазый скелет виновато опустил голову. Но, кажется, другому скелету этого было недостаточно, поэтому он решил перечислить все совершенные преступления: - Ты собственнолично съел все чокопаи, которые сам же и принес. Ты съел мой запас шоколада. Ты выпил сок Кросса. И самое страшное: ты обвинил в этом всех, даже собственного брата!

— Мне жаль! Действительно — воскликнул пристыженный и униженный до самого дна скелет. — Я хотел извинится перед Дримом, но! Сбился на тебя. Простите, я действительно не знаю, что на меня нашло!

— Ничего, братик — вмешался Дрим, успокаивающе обнимая того. — Я не злюсь. Наверное... ты просто переутомился. И, возможно, от этого ты и лунатишь. Я же говорил: не перенапрягайся.

И вот: разгадка этой тайны пришла. Можно уже идти домой, но не тут то было! Была одна вещь, которая совсем не связывалась со всеми фактами...

— А все же, Киллер, ты в кое-чем не прав — задумчиво протянул Кросс, приложив палец к подбородку, пялился на носки своей обуви.

— Хм, и в чем же? — хмыкнул тот, упершись руками в бока.

— Может Найтмер и съел чокопаи и выпил мой сок, но он никак не мог взломать сейф, будучи в бессознательном состоянии. Что-то не складывается.

— Но кто же мо...

Неожиданно какое-то шуршание отвлекло Киллера, не дав закончить вопрос. Послышался скрежет и странный урчащий звук. Это привлекло всех остальных: повернувшись, они уставились в темноту, покрывающую другую половину комнаты. Что-то сверкнуло в глубине, а настораживающие звуки усилились. Скелеты шагнули назад, скопившись в одну кучу и прижавшись к друг другу. Страшные огоньки напоминали глаза какого-то существа. Что же это может быть? Оно приближалось, заставляя их в страхе отступать ближе к повороту. Ещё чуть-чуть и можно будет узнать, что скрывалось в черной мгле. Последний клацающий шаг и...

— Мяу!

Компания завопила и помчалась прочь. Не оборачиваясь, они с позором ушли от опасности. А разве в этом была опасность? Это просто милый маленький котеночек. Может быть такая мрачная атмосфера позволила их фантазии разыграться? Никто не может знать наверняка. И неужели это и вправду конец?

— Эй, ребята? А что вы тут делали? — скелет в бежевом свитере, мило улыбаясь под лунным светом, поднимал белую кошку.

Это, конечно, был неожиданный поворот. Но разве это не мы должны задавать этот вопрос, Чино? Ведь они так и не узнают об этом. Так же, как и не узнают, что же их напугало в ту ночь. Это касается и того... Так кто же съел шоколад Киллера? Правда, в этой истории было много вопросов. И вы можете подумать, что узнали ответы на всех них, но нет. Это ошибочное предположение.

Это то, на что ответа нет. Так как эти все загадки должны оставаться неразгаданными. И только вы сами поймете, что истина, а что - ложь. Вы сами решаете, как ответить.

Продолжение следует...

[vegetasleftsock]

A Devil’s Smile (Chapter 6)

Read the entire work on AO3 here -> A Devil’s Smile

Catch up on previous chapters:

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |

Authors note: This chapter is particularly meaningful.. lots of great angst and more background about Milla.

Thank you to @minyapaws​ for helping me with concepts and editing. I feel like my work really transformed after our conversation. Please go read her story, "Ox Queen" if you haven't already. It is FANTASTICALLY written and so well thought out.

If you've read this far, thanks for sticking with the story! Find me on AO3 @vegetasleftsock​. Leave your feedback and thoughts in the comments! I love to read them :)

Here’s the link to the song mentioned in the chapter  “Amarillo By Morning” - George Strait  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IZBf16B5vhs 

Chapter 6 - Promises and Pride

A tall, thin waitress with curly red hair and a bright smile approached the high top table where Milla and Vegeta sat. She was wearing a tight, navy blue, v-neck t-shirt and ripped skinny jeans with a black apron tied around her tiny waist. 

The attractive waitress shone her blindingly white smile at the pair and handed them each a menu and a set of silverware. 

“Hi, guys! Welcome to Umai Ramen! My name is Amy and I’ll be your server today.” She glanced back and forth between Vegeta and Milla before clapping her hands together. “Can I get you two started with something to drink? We have soda, beer on tap, and sake.”

Milla stared at her intently as she spoke and gave her an earnest smile before starting to order. “We’ll both have whatever craft beer you’re into at the moment,” Milla said, batting her eyelashes and still smiling softly at the redhead with her cheek in her palm. 

Vegeta glanced up from his menu and watched the interaction silently. He raised an eyebrow and questioned to himself why Milla seemed to be laying it on thick with this waitress. 

“Actually,” Vegeta started, causing the waitress to stop the scribbles she was making on her notepad and look up towards his voice. “You can get me a water.”

The woman awkwardly smiled and nodded her head. “You got it. I’m going to go ahead and put these in for you guys while you take a look at the menu. Be right back!” The waitress said with a polite grin before striding away.

“She’s so pretty,” Milla said nonchalantly while her eyes glazed over the long, creme colored, laminated menu. 

Vegeta scoffed and looked mildly disgusted. “She looks like she could be crushed with a gust of wind.” 

“If you don’t think she’s hot, you’ve got some fucked up taste.” Milla shrugged while still glancing over the menu. 

“Ha!” Vegeta laughed, setting his menu down on the wooden table to cross his arms across his chest in a gesture of confidence. “What does that say about yourself-”

In the middle of speaking, Vegeta had realized what he just admitted to, but it was too late to take the words back. 

Milla sat in silence, staring, burning a hole through her menu. Without moving her face, she glanced to the side and then looked up to meet Vegeta’s gaze. 

She analyzed his face and saw him trying to play it off, but the color in his face was a dead giveaway. It was the same face he had made the night they had met, when Milla had used her finger to lift his face towards her while she performed. 

Milla rolled her lips in, trying to hide her smile and spare his pride but she couldn’t contain herself any longer. She burst out into laughter at the sight of him. His wide-eyed reaction sent her even further into her laughing fit until she buckled over from the cramps in her side. 

She was flattered, but the look he gave her after he slipped was what made her lose it. Had Vegeta not acted like a little kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Milla might have entertained the conversation in a different way. 

“Hoo!” Milla breathed while wiping a tear from her eye. “That was fucking hilarious.” She said, still slightly chuckling. 

Before Vegeta could respond, the waitress reappeared and started to set cardboard coasters on the table, followed by their drinks. 

“Alrighty, guys. Are we ready to order?” The waitress said, pen and pad ready. 

“Yes,” Milla said, regathering herself. “Can I please get a black tonkotsu with the thicker noodles?”

“Sure can. And for you?” The waitress asked, looking to Vegeta.

“Uh- I’ll have the same thing,” Vegeta said, realizing he hadn’t finished looking at the menu.

“Awesome! We’ll get that right out for you.”

“Thank you,” Milla beamed. “By the way, your hair is just so gorgeous.”

Vegeta rolled his eyes and looked away, refusing to watch as Milla flirted with the taller female.

“Well, thank you! That’s so sweet,” the woman said, shining her big, bright smile and happy eyes at Milla. “Let me know if you guys need anything else!” She nodded towards them before walking away.

“So, I’ve never asked,” Milla said, trying to revive the conversation. “What do you do? Bulma told me that you like, fight and protect the Earth and shit, but is that all you do?” She said before taking a sip of her beer. 

“Is that all I do,” Vegeta derided her question, almost mocking her. “Saiyans are warriors meant to pursue greater power. It’s not some silly little Earth duty. In fact, I’ve neglected my training by being here.” 

Milla pursed her lips and nodded. “Not a silly little Earth duty. Noted.”

“I can’t imagine what kind of dull positions Earthlings hold anyways.” Vegeta stated plainly.

“For your information, not all of them happen to be dull,” Milla said, rolling her head to the side a little bit, her eyes looking up and appearing to question her own words. “My day job just so happens to be kind of bland, but it makes ends meet.”

“My point.” Vegeta said.

“Guess you got me there.” Milla laughed, her arms crossing on the table. Her sleeves were pushed up to her elbows, leaving her tattoos on display.

“What’s the reason for these?” Vegeta asked, his eyes set on her body art.

Milla looked at him, eyebrows raised. “My tattoos? I’m guessing that’s not something people have where you’re from. They’re all stories, things I find beautiful, or am attached to.”

“This one is a date,” she said pointing to a roman numeral on the side of her wrist. “My mom and dad shared a birthday. My mom passed not too long after I was born and my dad, Leo, would honor her memory every year on that day by continuing to celebrate as if she was there. It helped me feel connected to her, even though I never really met her.”

Vegeta sat, quietly listening as Milla continued to explain the story behind each of her bigger pieces.

Milla pointed to another tattoo, the one on her forearm. She laid her arm flat on the table to show him. 

“This one is my childhood dog, Pinto. I grew up with him and he’s easily one of nicest dogs I’ve ever known. It was hard to lose him, but I got this tattooed so I could always see his sweet face wherever I go.” She admitted, a small smile crossing her lips as she remembered her black and tan Labrador. 

“Have you ever had a pet? You don’t seem much like an animal person.”

The first thing that came to Vegeta’s mind was Nappa. Having to babysit him was the only thing he could relate to in terms of having that kind of responsibility. He just shook his head in response. 

The waitress returned to their table with two large ceramic bowls. “Okie dokie, we have two black tonkatsu with udon noodles. Is there anything else I can grab you? Everything looks good?”

“Looks fantastic. Thank you.” Milla said.

Vegeta and Milla continued to learn more about each other over dinner. There were even a few moments where both of them shared small laughs. Milla liked being able to make Vegeta smile, even if it was just for a quick moment and even if it was only because she said something sarcastic about someone he disliked.

After they paid the bill and left a substantial tip, Milla convinced Vegeta to follow her back to her apartment despite his resistance. 

He was spending a lot of time away from his training- too much time. He feared he was becoming too comfortable in his situation and that it would put him behind in his progress. The thought itself was unacceptable, but he pushed the feeling into the back of his mind - at least long enough that he could enjoy the events that ensued once they returned. 

Vegeta tested her limits, and she tested his patience in a way that only further motivated his lust towards her. They ended only when they were both completely spent, which is a state that landed upon Milla long before Vegeta - but not something she was going to willingly admit or display. 

The pair stayed where they were at to sleep for no reason other than pure exhaustion, but it’s not something that either of them were upset about.

 Milla enjoyed having his warm presence in her bed and felt herself starting to let her walls down just slightly. Her chest clenched when she thought about it. Lust was one thing, friends with benefits was another thing, but commitment was not something she was ready for or even consciously interested in. 

She thought about one of the values that her father always drilled into her.

Milla’s father, Leo, sat in the driver’s seat of the car. His blue eyes remained on the road ahead as he spoke to her. He was average height and build, wearing a black t-shirt, loose fitting jeans and motorcycle boots. His hair and goatee were silver and it had been that way since she was a little girl. He told her once that he started graying at 18 and that he was completely gray by 20. He was heavily tattooed, with almost his entire torso filled with art. Leo left his hands, neck, and face empty so that he could still look professional at work, but now, on his day off, his tattoos laid freely on the parts of his skin that his t-shirt left exposed. A single tattoo adorned the pinky side of his fist, a squashed insect, which represented a story from his childhood. 

“You have your whole life to settle down, have kids, and do domestic shit,” Leo said. “Travel. See the world. Pursue your biggest dreams. And if you’re still dissatisfied after that, THEN find a partner. It’s not worth it before that point.”

Milla pouted her lip out. As a young girl, she always wanted to date like her friends did. At this time, she was 12 and in middle school and Leo still forbade it. 

“I don’t understand why I can’t find someone I love and travel the world WITH them,” Milla said, looking at her father who frowned at her response. “Wouldn’t that make it more fun?”

“It’s hard to understand this now, but when you meet someone you love, your world stops. It starts to focus around them and you don’t feel the need to put your effort into other things. That is until that initial bond fades and you’re left with regrets.” Leo said, gaze unmoving from what was in front of him. “You fall in love, you get married, you settle down and before you know it you have bills and kids who need and deserve all of your time and attention. It’s not fair to them to be selfish.”

Milla looked down at her hands as she twiddled her thumbs. She didn’t want to believe her dad. She wanted to love and to be loved by someone so bad. 

“Milla,” Leo said, glancing over at her. “If nothing else, promise me you’ll see the world. I know I’m asking a lot of you, but there’s so much out there past this little town. All the foods you and I try, you’ll love them more in person. I want you to feel whole whenever you do find your partner and I know this is the best way to do it. Promise me, Milla.” 

Milla looked up towards her father, her only family in the whole world, and saw him as a parent, pleading with his only child to not make the same mistakes he made. As it often did, her heart hurt for him.

“Okay, dad. I promise.” Milla said, running her father’s words through her head, almost as if she was recording them for safe keeping. 

“What if i’m afraid?”

“It’s okay to be afraid, but remember. You have to let your confidence win over that fear. Never let it overpower you, never let it win.” Leo said.

Milla clenched her fists, battling a list of fears in her head: the fear of being alone, the fear of not fulfilling her father’s promises, the fear of failure, the fear of being hurt.

She looked down at her hands again, nails digging into her palms. “I won’t dad. I won’t ever let it win.”

Milla heaved a deep sigh after replaying the memory in her mind and thumbed over the date on the side of her wrist. Her mom’s date. Her dad’s date. 

Her heart felt like it caved into her stomach. It had been five years since she heard her father’s voice. The father that made her who she is. The reason why she performs, the reason why she lives outside of the norm. He was also the father who broke her heart and her spirit. She kept this brokenness shoved deep inside where no one could ever see. No one was ever going to see her hurt, her fear- especially not her father. Not after what happened between them. 

She looked over to Vegeta laying next to her. He was either asleep or pretending to be. His face usually looks so angry, but now she thought he looked strangely relaxed. 

Milla stared at the ceiling and wondered what exactly she had gotten herself into. Regardless of what she felt for Vegeta, and regardless of how her father hurt her, she was never going to give up that promise that she made him. 

~ 

Early morning came and Milla carefully lifted herself out of bed, doing her best not to awake Vegeta from his sleep.

 She brushed her teeth and washed her face before going out to the kitchen. She decided she probably couldn’t keep as quiet as was necessary while cooking, so she crept back into her bedroom, grabbed her headphones and closed the door slowly until there was a soft, ‘click’. 

Milla started to pull pans and ingredients out from her cupboard and put an earbud in each ear. She switched to her dirty pleasure playlist- country music. It reminded her of home and though she would rather die than admit she had an affinity for the genre, it was her favorite music to cook and do chores to. 

Milla started by mixing the dry ingredients: flour, sugar, baking powder, salt.

Then the wet ingredients: eggs, milk, and melted butter. 

As she combined the wet and dry ingredients into a batter, she sang along to the music softly. 

“Amarillo by morning, up from San Antone. Everything that I’ve got- is just what I’ve got on…”

She turned on the stove and pulled a cup of chocolate chips out of a container. 

“When that sun is high in that Texas sky, I’ll be buckin’ at the country fair…” 

The lyrics reminded Milla of small town dances, sunsets rising over fields of endless corn, the smell of morning dew and rich soil. 

Milla was always the odd one out. She remembered an incident her freshman year of high school. Her basketball team told everyone to wear boots, but the only boots Milla owned were knee-high Doc Martens. She had assumed it would be okay since it was all she had. When she showed up, everyone was wearing western boots except for her. The seniors on the team zeroed in on her and made sure she knew that she was the black sheep of the team. This was just the start of a long line of incidents that occurred through her time in her tiny Texas town. 

It took years of separation and a strong sense of nostalgia to bring her back to listening to country music. Now, she was confident that she could push those who alienated her to the back of her mind and focus on the good memories that the music was a soundtrack to. 

“Amarillo by mornin’, Amarillo, I’ll be there.” 

Milla grabbed a pat of butter from the fridge and tossed it in the pan. The heated pan sizzled on contact with the butter, and she rotated the pan to coat it. 

“They took my saddle in Houston, broke my legs in Santa Fe. Lost my wife and a girlfriend, somewhere along the way.” 

She remembered cooking these same pancakes with her father on Sunday mornings.

 It was her grandmother’s recipe- the same one who gifted her the emerald earrings she wore every workday. 

Leo was an amazing cook. Before Milla’s mom passed, he had aspired to become a chef and go to culinary school. Although taking care of Milla became a full-time job as a single father, it never stopped him from experimenting with new dishes and teaching Milla as much about the culinary arts as he could. 

“Look Milla,” Leo said. “It’s all in the wrist.” He grinned widely before flipping a pancake up into the air and back into the pan.  

“Wow!” Milla cheered, clapping for her father. “I wish I could do that.” 

“Practice makes perfect.” Her father said, tearing a piece of the pancake off and feeding it to Pinto, who was wagging his tail happily at the offering.

 Milla turned the volume up on her headphones, hoping to drown out the thoughts that made her miss everything she used to have. 

She grabbed a spoonful of batter and poured it carefully into the pan before methodically placing chocolate chips into the raw, gooey pancake.

 “But I’ll be looking for eight when they pull that gate- and I hope that judge ain’t blind.” 

Vegeta woke up in an unfamiliar place. He realized he was still in Milla’s bedroom. He had stayed the night. Fallen asleep. Trespassed his boundaries for himself and everyone else. The discomfort with his current situation swelled inside of his chest. He needed to leave - now. 

Vegeta hastily put his clothes back on, looking around and trying to figure out where Milla had gone. He was hoping that she had already left for work. The last thing he needed was Milla looking at him with those dark brown eyes and questioning why he was rushing. It would only be a greater waste of his already poorly spent time. He heard her singing from outside the door and came to terms with the fact that she was fully awake and home. This was not going to be easy, but Vegeta was not going to play a coward’s game. He had his pride. 

He walked out the door and stood a couple of feet behind her and leaned against the wall, arms crossed. He listened to her sing for a moment, allowing the peace to remain for a few seconds more. As she sang each word, her accent was more and more apparent. He thought that it must be a quality that she chose to suppress. 

 “Amarillo by mornin’, Amarillo’s on my mind.” 

Milla placed the golden brown pancake on top of the stack that was growing on a plate next to her and turned to grab another pat of butter from the fridge. 

When she saw Vegeta out the corner of her eye she jumped, startled. Her face turned bright red while she wondered how long he had been standing there. 

“You just love to sneak up on me, don’t you? Take a seat,” she gestured at the kitchen table with her spatula. “There’s enough ready that you can at least have a first serving.” 

“That won’t be necessary,” Vegeta stated plainly.

 “Oh yea?” Milla said, plucking an earbud out of her ear. Her heart sunk a little at the thought of being left alone with her feelings. She didn’t want to address how she felt about Vegeta, but his presence was still comforting. “Got somewhere you have to be?”

 She held her confidence in her throat, knowing at any moment if she took a deep breath, it would come tumbling out and break her facade. 

“Yes,” he said, looking towards the window where the sun was peeking out into the dark night sky, creating the tip of a sunrise. “This is the last time we can do this.” 

He turned his face towards her and their eyes met. He watched as her face contorted with confusion and what he recognized as a hint of anger. 

“Do what, exactly?” Milla asked, her tone sharpening. Her eyebrows furrowed and she blinked like it would somehow correct the words she was hearing. 

“Be around each other in this situation. I know you’ve grown close to some of those inside of the small web of people I know, so I don’t expect to not see you. But never again in private.” 

If looks could kill, Vegeta would be long gone.

Milla sat the spatula down and turned the stove off. 

“What the actual fuck, Vegeta?” She growled under her breath while clenching her hands into her fists like she would every time she was scared as a little girl. Her fingernails dug further into her palms as she seethed.

“This has been a waste of my time.” Vegeta said, his stare matching her intensity.

Milla’s forehead bunched up and she threw her head back and laughed. 

In the back of Vegeta’s mind, the laugh reminded him of unsettling memories from his past. Her laugh was fueled by pure rage - he was sure of it. 

“A waste of your time, huh?” She said with one hand on the kitchen chair, tapping her foot in rhythm with her racing heartbeat. 

She walked up to him and shoved him back by the shoulder. He barely moved, but the action made him stumble slightly out of surprise. 

He glared at her, hoping she’d let it go, but it seemed to only fuel Milla further. 

“Since we’re sharing our feelings, do you want to know what’s a waste of MY time?” Milla snapped. “YOU. Thinking you can literally barge your way into my fucking life like some rouge bulldozer. Honestly Vegeta, what kind of fucked up are you that you literally had me thinking for EVEN A SPLIT SECOND that I might have cared about you? You took care of me, took interest in me, LITERALLY admitted your attraction to me and led me on to think you cared and now you’re just going to act like I don’t exist? Because why, Vegeta?” 

She pushed her chest against his brick wall of a body shoving him back slightly, looking up at him as he looked straight past her. 

“HUH? Look at me.” She demanded in a low tone. 

He flipped his glare down to look her in the eye. The more time he spent here, the more damage would be created and he was well aware of that. 

“Because why, Vegeta?” she repeated, getting close to his face. “Because it’s too much for you? Is the brave Prince Vegeta too afraid to face his own fucking feelings?” Each word she spoke was like venom. “Just as I thought initially. Fucking. Pathetic.” 

She held eye contact with him for another full moment before shoving herself away from him. She turned around and started walking towards her bedroom. 

“Get the fuck out, Vegeta.” She said. 

Vegeta stood where she left him, his blood boiling at the brim of each insult that cut into his pride. 

He didn’t have his father, he didn’t have his people, but he had his pride. 

“And you think that you can get off acting like some little spoiled brat?” He laughed, smirking at her as though her words left him unaffected. 

“Vegeta. Shut the fuck up and get the fuck out!” Milla yelled. 

“How could you be so dense as to think that I would be interested in commitment with a dirty little Earth brat like you? I wouldn’t dare destroy my royal bloodline by choosing someone like you as my mate.” Vegeta said, lying through his teeth. 

“Dude, you are seriously fucked up! Get the FUCK out of my house, Vegeta!” Milla shouted, pointing at the door.

He took a couple of steps towards Milla and locked eyes with her, their staring contest commencing once again. 

“I expected more from you, Milla.” Vegeta said, cupping her chin. Her eyes went wide when she heard those words, and a shock went bellowing through her entire body. He was saying things out of pure spite at this point, choosing anything he could say that would hurt her. He scoffed and left without another word. 

Milla stood motionless, eyes still wide as saucers. Her facade crumbled and her knees gave out beneath her as tears streamed down her face. She didn’t feel like she was crying, but the warmth of the little droplets running down her cheeks told her that she was. 

Her body was frozen, those words echoing in her head. 

“I expected more from you, Milla.” Vegeta said.

 “I expected more from you, Milla.” Leo said. 

[missblissy]

Rebirth (Chapter Six)

Alastor X Human!Reader ((Reincarnation!AU))

Prologue || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six

((THE TAG LIST IS CURRENTLY DOWN UNTIL I CAN FIX IT!! PLEASE UNDERSTAND THAT I AM TRYING TO DO EVERYTHING I CAN! I PROMISE TO HAVE THE TAGGED LIST BACK UP FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER)) ((HERE IS THE SONG THAT ALASTOR SINGS))

“You want to summon... A demon? You do know that goes against literally everything I stand by?” Sage stared at you with narrow eyes. She didn’t seem too pleased that you had asked. 

And you weren’t too pleased that three years of friendship turned out to be a twisted lie, “I don’t think I know anything about you,” You said with a little to much attitude, “I thought you were a chemist that traveled a lot for work. Turns out my best friend is actually a magical witch that kills demons for a living!”

Sage knew she had hurt you, you could see it on her face. You expected her to snap back like she normally would. But she showed complete control, she took a breath in and then out, “I am under an oath to not to share this information with anyone outside my bloodline. I’ve have broken that one and only rule twice. For Van, and for you. I’m supposed to kill you now,” Her words were so cold you almost thought she would. Sage did nothing but give you a stern look. You felt like a child under that gaze, she was only four years older than, but she had the energy of 100-year-old pagan, “I’d rather die for it than let either of you be harmed in any way shape or form. Sharing this information with you has put our lives at risk. So long as you play dumb when you need to, everything will hopefully be fine, but I can’t promise that. So you can see why I kept this from you for so long. I hope you understand it wasn’t to lie or deceive you. It was to protect you. But now the only way for me to protect you is to tell you everything you need to know.”

You suddenly felt immature and bratty. She was right. You were blind to the bigger picture and you felt a little dumb, “I’m sorry,” You said, “I just felt... I don’t know. All of this is so crazy. I feel like the who universe is lying to me and you were apart of that. I know your intentions were in the right place,”

There was a moment of silence between the two of you. There was a mutual understanding and you both silently agreed to move on, “Why do you want to summon a demon? I need to know your reasoning before I share this information with you.”

You could understand her concerns, “Well, what if I were to learn how to summon Alastor? Maybe for a trap?” You told her with a warry voice.

“Well, I wouldn’t doubt it if he had this place tapped in any way. He’s probably listening to us right now. I doubt he’d dare to step out though.”

“Why?” You were curious to see why she was so confident.

“Because I can kill him. And he knows that. He’s too proud and important to let something like that happen. Because if I kill him, Eon will die too. I have a divine weapon that my father passed down to me and his father before him. The Morning Sword, the same sword Lucifer lifted towards God in his rebellion and the same sword he lost when he fell from grace.”

Holy shit. You had to see this sword, “Where is?” You asked, “Can I see?”

Sage smirked slightly, her blue eyes sparkled a little. She nodded, “Sure,” With a quick wave of her hand, a sword started to manifest before your eyes. It was made of silver and gold, with its own source of blue light leaking between the designs. It fell quickly into Sage’s hand and she swiftly turned it and placed it before you. The blade rested in her open palms, “This sword destroys any soul it comes in contact with,”

“Why isn’t it hurting you then?” You asked, not sure if you wanted to touch it or not.

“Souls are protected deep within our bodies,” Sage explained. 

You reached out and placed a finger on the glowing blade. A little zap of electricity pricked your finger. You were just about to take the sword in your own hands when a little buzz went off. Sage pulled out her phone, gave it one look, then sighed heavily.

“I have to go,” She said while the sword fizzled out of existence. She opened her mouth to explain but you cut her off.

“I understand. Demon stuff.”

Sage’s smile was small but wholesome, “Everything you need is in this bag,” You had almost forgotten that it was sitting next to you, “I’ll text you, okay?” She quickly got up to her feet and soon she was at the door, “Let Van know if you need anything too. I’ll see you late, (Y/n),”

You waved at your friend and watched her go. You were alone again and you felt a chill. You remembered what Sage said, about Alastor having this place tapped. 

You wanted to see him, and you hated admitting that to yourself. The book had answered some questions. Things like who you were when you were a demon. You were called The Crybaby Demon, and you were the Gate Keeper of Hell. You married Alastor seven or eight years after meeting him. Eon technically owned your soul but since you were reincarnated, he lost his power over it. And even how you met and fell in love with Alastor. 

It was hard to see him as the same demon who was trying to trick you into going to hell. It was more like... someone desperately trying to get back to their life. Or afterlife in this case. 

You stood up from the couch. You looked around slowly then felt stupid as you called out, “Alastor...?” Nothing happened. Maybe he really left for good?

Suddenly Buck came out from hiding. He slowly walked from your bedroom and his tiger eyes watched your every move. That's when you remembered that... Buck had something to do with all of this.

You felt silly as you reached your hand out. Buck rubbed his cheek against your fingers and purred loudly, “Can you bring Alastor here?” You asked quietly.

And that’s when you felt it. That energy that caused your hairs to rise. The soft stale static fizzled in and out of your ear. He was here. What happened to that big screaming portal? Or could he hide that from your eyes too? You looked around and followed the waves as they pulsed from where ever Alastor was hiding. You faced the windows between your kitchen and living room. 

You saw the curtains flutter slightly, then you saw a shadow flash across the floor, “Alastor?” You called out with a weak voice. You weren’t sure where he went.

As you started to take a few steps back, you felt a cold chill on the back of your neck, “You called~?” His voice was loud and muffled at the same time. He spoke through that filter, that old microphone voice. You spun around and saw Alastor grinning at you, “Hello, my darling dear.”

You were frozen for a second. You almost forgot that he was a demon. A murderer. And if you could remember correctly... a cannibal. You gulped, then spoke weakly, “Hi,” You started, “I... I wanted to see you,” As you admitted that you saw Alastor’s smile grow, “I’ve been reading the book you left. And... I want to know more about who I was. Parts of the book won’t appear for me- even with my blood! They just stay blank,” 

Alastor chuckled then began to walk in a circle around you, “I’m aware,” He grinned loosely, “I can’t get all the pages to show for me, either, so I can’t help you there,”

“I thought it wouldn’t work for you?” Didn’t the book say it was cursed or something so Alastor couldn’t read it?

“I found a way in. But the book only shows me what it wants me to see, the same for you, darling, what did it show you?” 

That didn’t make sense... The book only showed you passages about Alastor. If it showed him something different than what he saw... “It only showed me things about you,” 

Something sparkled in his eyes and he took a step towards you. Leaning down into your sights, “What could you ever want to know about me?” His eyes were wide and wild as they flashed an emotion in them that you could barely pick out. 

Your heart raced and you felt a little frightened, “You... were my husband?”

“I was,” He hummed lowly.

“You loved me?” You had to hear him say it. You didn’t know why, but you just had to.

“I did,” Alastor took a step away from you, a smaller smile on his face, “I still do,” You felt something twitch in your chest. Something old and unknown to your mind yet familiar to your soul, “And I know you don’t love me,” Alastor when on, “But I want to change that!” He rocked on his heels then snapped his finger. Suddenly he wasn’t a demon anymore. He was a human, a young man in casual attire, “If you’ll let me, that is, my dear. I want a chance at being in your life again. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy,”

He peered at you through his round glasses. A natural smile rested on his face. He held a hand out towards you. A part of you wanted to take his hand in yours and see what would happen. Another part tould you to run. He was still a demon. Weren’t they supposed to trick you with pretty words?

You shook that thought away because you knew Alastor loved you. The book showed you that he loved your soul more than anything in this world. When you looked up at Alastor’s face, you could even see a small flash of pleading in his eyes. You lifted your hand and barely graced your fingers on his. 

As soon as your skin touched his, Alastor grabbed your hand quickly and pulled you to him. You were brought close to his embrace. Warmth radiated off his body and soon you were swept away into a magical place. Music started to play, you realized it came from Alastor. 

Alastor was dressed in a dark deep crimson red suit and matching bowtie. His glasses were gone and you were dressed in matching a long and elegant dress, the same shade of red as Alastor’s suit. He hummed lowly then you watched him sing. His voice was staticky again as if he was singing on an old radio show, “Alooooone~.... At the edge of a universe humming a tuunnee..... For merely dreaming we were snow...Mhmmm..” He leaned in close and you felt something spark in your heart and travel to your cheeks. Alastor was face to face with you, only inches away, “A siren sooouunds!!! Like the goddess who promises endless apologies of paradise... And only she can make it riiight~” He gave you this look, still inching closer, he sucked in a breath and sang on “So things are different tonight!”

Pianos and music leaked from an unknown source, Alastor pulled you through a portal that you didn’t even see open and suddenly as an orchestra of music played you found yourself in a city you had never seen before, “We’ll go toogeetheerr... In flight!” 

It was as if you were in a magical movie. Stars began to fly around you as you realized you were in a graveyard in a hot and muggy city. Alone. With Alastor. He sung away every problem and worry that came to your troubled mind. His voice was so hypnotic and beautiful. It was like you were under a spell as he grabbed your hand in his and began to dance with you. You watched little ghosts appear from behind gravestones that rose above the ground. Gaves were stacked into each other, with statues and cross decorating them. Little ghosts of all kinds fluttered around as little sparkly stars flustered to life.

“It's Now & Never!” He began to sing again, a smile on Alastor’s face, “A reverie endeavor... awaits somnambulant directives to take the helm!” Suddenly the two of you spun so quickly that everything faded into a blur, “Believe me, darling! !The stars were made for falling!” And like that all the little stars he made began to fall, “Like melting obelisks as tall as another realm~!”

You were still in the graveyard, mesmerized the galaxies that started to form out of seemingly nothing. Music still played and Alastor was dancing some kind of tango with you. A smile grew on your face, you couldn’t stop it. You didn’t know he could be so whimsical and magical. He even started to sing in French (or that’s what you thought) and you had no idea what he was saying but it made your heart race in your chest. 

Suddenly he was singing in English again, “It feels like flying~!” You saw his demonic face flash for only a second, “But maybe we're dyyiiing~! A cosmic confluence of Pyramids hologrammed!! She knows you heard her, staging music murder in line before the show began to be where I am!”

The music changed it’s beat and once again Alastor was leading you through the graveyard. Trees grew all over, most of them were weeping willows. Fireflies began to come out of hiding and they were soon spinning into a swarm, obviously, it was Alastor’s doing. The fireflies shot up into the sky and blew up like fireworks. You could hear the voice of a woman softly singing in the background of the music as jingle bells chimed away. You could barely even understand what the voice was singing. Alastor’s voice drifted into the background but his mouth never opened beside the flash of a toothy grin here and there.

As the music slowed down, Alastor had brought you to a large weeping willow tree that protected a gazebo under its long viny branches. It sounded like you could hear the ocean but you knew it was just a trick.

Alastor quickly brought you close to him, close enough that your chests were touching, his arm snaked around your waist while the other held your hand up in the air. He started to waltz with you, looking down with dark brown eyes and a loving smile on his face, “You look quite divine tonight~!” The fireflies were back, flickering away as they spun around the both of you as you waltzed together, “Here among these vibrant lights! Pure delights surround us as we sail! Signed, yours truly, the whale! Joy mirage's kingdom come...No one left at stake~! Now that existence is on the wake, let's see what we can make!” 

The two of you slowed down, only swaying now. You barely even forgot that Alastor wasn’t a human, he was a stranger to you. But the way it felt to have your hand in his was totally intoxicating. There was a wave of energy that flowed from him and straight into your heart. 

Is this what love felt like? To have someone love you unconditionally and for all of eternity? You couldn’t tell and you weren’t sure if you were ready to know. You just couldn’t stop that little smile on your face as you looked up at him. Alastor was only humming a tune now while giving you the softest smile you had ever seen on his face. 

You had no idea, but this was everything Alastor had been waiting for. A moment like this was priceless, it was almost like he had you back for real this time. He knew not to rush this though, he knew that he had to do this right if he was to ever get you to come back to him.

The fireflies started to fly away save for a few dozen that flickered away under the gazebo roof. Alastor’s body against yours was warm and beating with a pulse of life. His radio heart swelled with love and you could have sworn that he was more human than demon.  

You looked up to him with questions in your eyes, “Where are we?” You finally asked. 

Soft music was still playing, you could hear it coming from Alastor’s body. He hummed and gave you a little spin then brought you back to him, “New Orleans,” He said quietly as if this wasn’t freaking huge.

You gave him a look, a raised brow, “Didn’t you say you were from here?” 

He nodded his head, “I’m actually buried a few rows over,” Why was he so casual about this?

You nearly shook your head as you took a double-take on what he said, “Wait.. like... your body?” He nodded his head again and that soft smile was still on his face, “Can... Can we see?”

The two of you were standing still now. Alastor let go of your hand only to snake his arm under yours, linking you together by the elbow, “Sure, I don’t see why not,” His voice was low and sounded like the purr of a cat... or demon. 

You walked with him, still linked by the arm. This graveyard was so beautiful. It was filled with old statues with patches of moss and dirt scattered across them. It was dark and the sun had set but it’s enchanting colors still scattered across the sky. It made a painting of blues and pinks and purples. You could smell the heavy scent of roses drifting in the wind. 

As you neared a tomb at the end of a road, Alastor slowly came to a stop. The headstone was destroyed on top of the grave liner, shattered and broken into rubble. It even looked like someone cracked open the concert vault and had stolen the bones inside.  The second grave next to it was also broken apart and vandalized. You looked at him with worried eyes but he didn’t seem fazed. 

“I-... I’m sorry,” You started to mumble.

Alastor quickly waved his free hand back and forth, ushering your to stop your worrying, “I’ve already killed the fools who desecrated mine and my mother’s graves. Worry not, my little doe, it’s what one gets for being a serial killer,”

You had almost forgotten about that. It was hard to imagine that Alastor was an infamous serial killer, cannibal and radio show host. 

Lucky for you, google existed and you had done a little research on Alastor. You looked at him as you brought a finger to your chin, “It was.. La-...Lafloor?” You tried to remember what that damn google search said.

Alastor chuckled and suddenly his voice took this deep, southern creole accent, “Alastor Narcisse LaFleur,” It sounded like he was speaking a totally different language, but it was his name. He gazed down at you fondly, amused at your lack of understanding, “I was a radio show host most of my adult life while murdering 51 people in the course of seven years,” He spoke fondly of his life, a look of pride on his face, “However one day I got a tip from a dear old friend that my cover was blown. I ran from the police,” He started to chuckle, “They almost got me, but I got pretty far and POW!,” Then he pretended to shoot himself in the head with a smile, “I did it before they could.” 

What a cruel and ironic way to go. Life had a funny sense of humor. You could not understand why you felt so bad for him. You reached out and dared to touch his arm, but you stopped just short. He had noticed your advancement and gave you a look, “Do not feel sorry for me, my dear, I’m already dead!” At least he made you chuckle, “Please, I’d love to leave this place and take you somewhere nice.”

The idea didn’t sound half bad, “Sure!” You wanted to see where this would go. You couldn’t stop craving the attention he gave you. Something wild and unknown to you called out to be by Alastor’s side and you gave into that call. Perhaps it had something to do with your soul, you guessed, maybe it was because your soul knew Alastor better than you did. That gut feeling you normally ignored grew larger and more apparent. 

You were curious to see what Alastor had instore, you were still linked with him by the arm as the two of your quietly strode out of the graveyard. You couldn’t stop the smile that crawled into your face as you happily gave into the magic and wonder that was Alastor. What else could he possibly have in store? Well, you’d just have to wait and see~

[southerndragontamer]

Pokémon AU

Chase Brody

Rillaboom (can Gigantamax), Boltund, Goodra, Ursaring, Polteageist, Banette (has Banettite)

-His starter was Grookey, the little drummer monkey heard Chase absently drumming a rhythm while he was waiting for the bus to get to Hammerlocke and just hopped out of his Pokeball the professor had and over to him and picked him. Grookey nearly bit the Professor when she tried to take him from Chase because he wanted to stay. And they’ve been together ever since.

-Chase travels because it makes him happy to be exploring, to be training with his team. Grookey finding him was the start of Chase getting out of a funk he’d been in for some time and back to being on the right track. He’s a good fighter, not as skilled as someone who goes at it crazy hardcore every day as he’s in it for the fun mostly, not trying to really be the toughest Trainer like some are.

-Is actually thinking of becoming a Breeder after he gets all his badges, as he doesn’t really want to fight the league. Currently Chase is training for fighting Melony or Gordie depending on who has switched in to be the Leader.

-Would lose to little kids that ask him for battle in a heartbeat if he could, but Chase takes it easy on them and gives advice and tips he picked up. And comforts anyone that’s upset after.

-Team order is Rillaboom, Boltund, Goodra, Ursaring, Banette, Polteageist

-Has befriended Jirachi and Nihilego

-Do not under any circumstances upset or hurt a little kid around him, you thought Anti was bad, uh uh, you haven’t seen an angry Chase and no one wants to get their behind handed to them by a protective father.

-Chase takes things at a easy pace, looking around Galar and exploring at his and his ‘Mon’s leisure and taking in the little things most pass by in the rush to get the next badge. He takes a lot of photographs, videos and collects postcards of everywhere he visits.

-He’s the type to save as much as he can in case he needs things later, is very hoard minded as he doesn’t know when it might come in handy. So, this guy is the kind of Trainer to have a ton of Nuggets burning a hole in his pocket for when he’s in need of cash to buy supplies.

-Totally dotes on his ‘Mon, very openly affectionate with them and gives them treats after a battle. Which considering the energy they just burn actually balances out so Nurse Joy doesn’t give him any trouble.

-Has very good aim when he plays games like laser tag or frisbee with other trainers while their teams relax and play when he hangs out with them. Comes in handy for throwing Pokéballs accurately, he can even make curve balls hit. And he’s been trying out different tricks with a toy ball to see if he can copy it with a Pokéball if he can.

-His style is laid back, casual kind of clothing. Hoodies, t shirts and jackets, jeans, shirts, boots and gloves and his snapback cap. He isn’t ever seen without his cap, it was a gift from some people special to him and he thinks it’s his good luck charm.

-The nicknames for his Pokémon are: Rillaboom is Silver, Bolthund is Lucky, Ursaring is Lunar, Goodra is Daisy, Banette is Stitch and Polteageist is Lipton

-He encountered Lucky just after getting Silver who he named that due to him being attracted to the shiny coins as the two walked to get started looking around and bringing them to Chase. Lucky got his name because he was running as fast as he could from a dog catcher and just in time Chaae stopped him and asked what was going on. Lucky was wild and had wandered into town and caused a bit of ruckus by digging up flower beds. So, Chase asked how much the damage was, didn’t bat an eye as he got his wallet out and paid the man to give to the owners of the gardens and turned to Lucky, who’s tail was just wagging like mad and asked if he wanted to come with, the response of being jumped on and licked sent Chase laughing.

-How he met Daisy happened during the long trip through the Wild Area to get to Motostoke. Chase was taking his time to get used to being around so many Pokémon and enjoying the sights. He’d just ran from a too powerful Onyx that had been accidentally nicked by Silver’s Razor Leaf that they were training with, and tripped into a small field of flowers. And there curled up asleep was Daisy, she even had a flower between her antenna. Chase instantly took a picture of her and when the sound of the shutter woke her asked if she wanted to join.

-Meeting Lunar and Stitch was interesting as it happened at the same time. They aren’t native to Galar though with so many Trainers coming in from different regions it’s natural they’re finding more wild or released Mon from other Regions, as well as moves, that weren’t there before as they acclimate to the Wild Areas easily. But, Chase was actually talking with a Trainer he’d just beaten that was recently from Hoenn after going through Johto. They had an Egg but they didn’t really want to switch their team out and just abandoning it wasn’t something they were comfortable with either so as Chase had plenty of room still, he offered to take it.

-And at the same time they handed it over, the Trainer asked if he wouldn’t mind taking on another Mon. And they explained a Ghost Type was following them, their unofficial seventh member at the moment. They didn’t want to just let it run wild when it wouldn’t be a good idea. Chase wasn’t one to turn down an opportunity to help and agreed and a little Shuppet appeared out of thin air and gave Chaae the most hopeful look. All Stitch had wanted was a friend, and now he had more than he knew what to do with!

-Chase took good care of the Egg that turned out to be a Teddiursa who he named Lunar for the crescent moon marking, and he adored caring for the baby Pokémon. All of his team turned into doting siblings honestly and it was very sweet to watch. There was a lot of baby and family pictures taken during this time. Lunar adores his family and will do everything to keep them safe and happy.

-This time was when Chase decided he wanted to try to become a Breeder, taking care of Lunar and his Egg was something he adored doing and he wanted to do that more, and make sure the babies got to good Trainers who would love them as much as he loved his Pokémon.

-Lipton was a cute encoder. Chase was on his way to Ballonlea through Glimwood Tangle and had gotten turned around a lot since the forest was so dark for the most part. He decided to take a bit of a break before he tried again, at least the experience was good for the team. He got out his hackysack and started to play with it lightly and didn’t notice for a bit that a little curious Sinistea was creeping closer. When Chase accidentally threw the hackysack too far, it was caught and then tossed back. Chase laughed a little and the two started a game to see if they could always catch or throw it perfectly.

-Chaae then mentioned needing to get to town as he was reminded he had somewhere to be when he looked at his watch and Lipton led him down the right path, but didn’t want to leave and basically caught himself.

-How he met Jirachi that was a fun one. Jirachi is known to sleep for years at a time, but since Jirachi is a Psychic Type, it’s not unheard of for its mind to reach out to others during its rest. And that’s exactly what happened with Chase, they met in his dreams and Jirachi played with him a lot. The first thing that happened when they met physically was Chase getting knocked off his feet in a ecstatic hug by the wish granting Legendary.

-Nihilego is actually his unofficial seventh team member. He’s not even really sure how they, or she as despite not being genderendd doesn’t seem to mind being referred to with feminine pronouns but it depends on mood for this, met him as Chase just... woke up one morning to find Nihilego over his bed. He assumes from research it’s due to an Ultra Wormhole opening up sometime during the night. While at first wary of being attacked, Nihilego didn’t try to attach to Chase or any of the team. Instead, they just... followed Chase around almost like the child they resemble.

-Chase named them Galaxy because of the Star like pattern they have. And Galaxy stays invisible a lot of the time around other humans, causing mischief sometimes but all in all, they just behave more like a child than an alien Pokémon most of the time. Though that’s not to say they stay like that all the time, sometimes when angered or when she thinks Chase or her family is threatened Galaxy will lash out to protect them. Galaxy sleeps curled up with Chase and the others on the team in a big cuddle pile.

Author’s note

Finally! The next installment is done! XD I’m sorry it took so long to get this out, and that it turned out so long, but I had to figure out the right team and then the rest wrote itself almost. And again, just feel free to ask for more information on anything in the AU if you’re curious! I promise I don’t bite.

[mrsalwayswrite]

The Difference Between Champagne and Rum Part 4 (Alfie Solomons x OFC)

Thank you everyone for your patience with this. Finally!! Here is the next part! I am not sure when I will have Part 5 & 6 done but I promise they are already plotted out...just got to write them. So this takes place in Season 2, so we get to see our beloved Alfie in his gangster glory. 

Warnings: Swearing, some racial slurs, mild sexual content, nothing major

Words: 10k 

The Difference Between Champagne and Rum

Part 4- Chance Encounters and Necessary Libations 

~1922~

“Fuckin’ Italians.” Alfie Solomons muttered as he pushed through the door of Darby Sabini’s club in London. The obnoxious mixture of perfume, cologne and cigarette smoke assailed his senses making his throat close up. For the briefest of moments his mind returned to the smoke-filled, blood-saturated fields in France, with that nauseating smell making his throat constantly feel like it would rather seal itself closed than force more of the poisonous air into his lungs. Bombs going off. Piss running through the trench, mixing with the fresh blood. Men, boys really, screaming for God or their mothers…or crying out for death. Quickly Alfie shook his head before the memories could escape the locked box in his mind that was reserved for them. No, he had a different kind of pain in the ass to deal with currently.

He moved just off to the side of the main entrance, eyeing the swarms of men with slicked-back hair, women in flapper dresses and pearls, and the workers hovering in the shadows waiting to assist the guests. Realistically, the pause was also to give his hip a moment’s respite before he had to pretend the pain radiating like a flare out of his right hip was nothing. He would rather suffer then give Sabini one hint of weakness. The man was a shark, sniffing blood in the water and attacking anything weaker than himself. He scanned the place, noting the gaudy décor, bold colors and the aura of alcohol and lust infused in the air seeking to corrupt the mind with every breath. This was definitely Sabini’s place. Alfie sent a silent prayer heavenward that he never had to cross this threshold again. This place was certainly far from kosher. After he left, he might have to repent of sins he had not even committed just to cleanse himself of the stench of this place. 

“Fuckin’ hip.” He rubbed a hand over it for a moment before straightening. The sooner he met with Sabini, the sooner he could leave. “Let’s get this shit done.”

Black hat on, long black coat hanging off his wide shoulders, scowl on his face- he stepped out of the shadows and moved forward. The guests parted before him, like Moses parting the Red Sea. Not that he minded, he actually got a thrill out of seeing people’s reaction when in his presence. He could be the personification of intimidating when he chose to be. His cane tapped on the floor with each step, only taking some of his weight. It could be its own added force of intimidation. A solid strike with it had taught many people it could be used for more than just a handicap.

“Mr. Solomons!” One of Sabini’s men finally approached him. The pinstripe suit, slicked back hair and thin moustache were enough of a giveaway before the man even opened his mouth to speak in his thick accent. “Mr. Sabini informed me to meet you at the entrance.”

“Yeah? Kinda hard to do that when you got your fuckin’ tongue down that girl’s throat, eh?” Alfie pointed at a girl walking by in a cream-colored dress, attempting to adjust it back into place. “Where is Sabini? He said to meet him here.”

The man attempted to wipe the lipstick off his lips, causing some to smear on his cheek, never mind the few spots on his neck he seemed oblivious too. “Mr. Sabini had an important family meeting come up. Once that is finished, he would meet with you. It should not take long.”

Alfie grumbled, rubbing a hand over his mouth and jaw, his beard prickling the skin. The idea of waiting for Sabini sounded awfully boring and insulting. Yet he needed to have this meeting. If for nothing else then confirmation that his new alliance with those gypsies was still worth his time.

Somehow the man seemed to sense Alfie’s decision to stay and gestured for him to follow. They passed the dance floor, nearby tables being used for both alcohol and snow, and the band at the head of the room. There was a slightly elevated section that the wop led him too. Only a handful of others sat at the tables, too focused on their own conversations and drinks to pay any attention to Alfie.

“I’ll inform Mr. Sabini of your arrival, he will be out soon.” The man gestured to a table in which Alfie took a seat. “All drinks are on the house.”

Alfie watched the man scurry off before ordering a whiskey when a server approached. If Sabini had not shown his ugly face before Alfie finished his drink, he would leave. Fuck this waiting-power game Sabini was playing. The truce between the two of them wavered like a flickering flame, some moments stronger than others but this newest insult was too much. He was affecting Alfie’s business and that was something the Jewish gangster would not tolerate.

His thoughts turned to his schedule for tomorrow and what needed to get done. Ollie had been harping on him to get a secretary with how business and paperwork had been expanding and piling up. Each time Ollie tried to bring it up, Alfie’s glare would shut him down. He did not need nor want someone else sticking their nose in his books and affairs.

About halfway through his whiskey he heard footsteps approach from behind. They were not Sabini’s usual cocky stride. No, they were light and with a clip from high heels. Alfie internally rolled his eyes. He wondered if Sabini sent a whore to distract him, he would not put it past the arrogant wop to try that.

“Is this seat taken?”

Her soft, sweet voice swept over him, causing him to tighten his fingers around his glass. His plan to be rude or ignore her flew out of the window. Her voice was a siren’s call, a lingering song from his past that he had never truly forgotten.

The chair across from his slid out and she gracefully settled herself. Light caught and danced off all the silver beads on her sleeveless gray flapper dress. Long gray gloves covered her hands that held a flute of champagne. His eyes traced up her form to her red, plump lips and delicate features to stare into her hypnotic gaze with gemstone eyes. The biggest change was her shortened hair, a bob now, very fitting with the current style apparently but a part of him lamented the loss of her long, sleek, blonde hair.

The air froze between them. Time and space no longer mattered. Their eyes beheld one another as if a magnetic force refused to let them escape. Trapped in this disbelieving look. Trapped in this moment. Yet there was nowhere else Alfie would rather be. Even after all this time, even after all the shit he had seen and survived, even though it had years since he last saw her…she was still the most beautiful woman to him. He doubted that was something that would ever change.

“It is you.” She breathed out as if momentarily in awe.

“Angel?”

A small smile tilted her lips up. “Damn. Alfie Solomons in the flesh. This must be my lucky day.”

A sound between a snort and a laugh emerged from his own mouth but never once did his eyes come off of her…not did hers leave his. A bubble of silence encased them but it never felt uncomfortable. They just stared at one another as if seeing the moon for the first time. His mind struggled to convince itself that the woman sitting before him was the very same woman he had pinned after for so long. Eight years had passed since he last laid eyes on her. Eight years in which he went to war and returned to expand his empire and reputation. The year before the war ended, her letters stopped. One of the only sources of light and joy in that fucking war ceased and it hit him harder than the bomb blast that sent him to the hospital. All his hopes, dreams and promises of reuniting with her ended then. Yet here she sat in front of him now.

His brain finally decided to start functioning again and he asked the first thing that came to mind. “What are you doin’ here? Your last letter said you was in America.”

She tensed minutely, barely anyone would notice but his eyes were trained on her and did not miss her reaction. After taking a quick sip of her champagne, she answered him. “I have been. I am currently traveling for business.”

“Business?”

“Mmm…I am not sure if you have heard but over in America, this awful law was passed and now alcohol is illegal. Apparently, it is the root of all evil, if you listen to some of the old women.”

“And where does business come in?”

She shrugged casually, peering over the dance floor for a moment. “There are some people willing to pay for alcohol, especially those with money…they just lack the connections to grant them this great evil.”

“So that s’where you come in. You’re a supplier of an illegal substance.”

“I prefer to think of it as a supplier of the finer things in life and good times.”

He chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. Even after all these years, she still continued to surprise him. “So what you sayin’, yeah, s’you still a trouble maker.”

“My dear Alfie,” she gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her chest in mock horror, “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Yeah, yeah, you s’fuckin’ angel. What are you doin’ at this club?”

She rolled her eyes, glancing around quickly. “My business partner and I were supposed to meet with Mr. Sabini but we have been waiting over an hour already.”

“Why the fuck you meetin’ with the likes of him?” He narrowed his eyes at her. Something within him roared in anger at the idea of her meeting with scum like Sabini.

“My partner thinks he has connections we could use. I disagree. With what I have heard, he is not a man to trust easily.”

“Yeah, you s’right, love. Stay well away from ‘im. What kind of connections you lookin’ for? Maybe I can help.”

“I actually planned on calling on you next week. Between us, your reputation may have…frightened my partner. He does not want to utilize your resources. He says you are too volatile and unpredictable.”

“Fuck ‘im too.”

She laughed shamelessly, eyes crinkling as she tilted her head back.

Heaven above, that sound was like music to his ears. He could not help as his own lips turned up at her amusement.  Every fiber in his body demanded he snatch her up and leave with her, never let her out of his sight again, beg her to smile and laugh for him because he had forgotten how it warmed him from the inside out. Although, if he somehow doubted that she would approve of his idea of kidnapping her. That idea made his smile broaden slightly. They both may have changed since they last saw one another but he doubted her independent streak had abated much.

“Come to me bakery tomorrow. Yeah, I’ll show you me bread and give you some names to check out.”

“I would like that.”

“Right! S’settled!” He clapped his hands together loudly, drawing the attention of the few other patrons sitting nearby. “Stop by in the mornin’. Mmm…yeah. I’ll have Mrs. Liebgott in the front expectin’ you.”

“If I may be so bold…” She gestured to his hands. Curious, he nodded and watched as she changed seats to sit next to him. Hesitantly she pulled his left hand closer and seemed to be examining it.

“S’you a gypsy now? Gonna read me palm for me fortune?”

A small smile appeared, the only indicator that she heard his tease. Now so close, her scent taunted him. That same lavender scent, even after all these years, still hung around her like a pleasant aura. As subtly as possible, he inhaled deeply, wishing to permanently brand his nostrils with her scent. Fucking hell, what was happening to him? He was starting to sound like some kind of miscreant stalker.

“Is that…from the necklace I gave you?”

He glanced down to see her finger gently touching one of his rings. “Yeah, the chain got damaged during…” he swallowed thickly, “…during a fuckin’ blast. Kept it in me pocket until I got back to London. Eventually had the gold melted from the chain to form the ring and had the star put on it.”

He wondered what she thought of it. The star was no longer perfect like when she had given it to him. There were dings and scratches on its surface. One of the star’s spikes was dramatically shorter than the others. Yet it still was the same star and same gold, just now a thick gold band encasing the simple gold northern star.

“I can’t… I am surprised you kept it.”

Unsure if those were really tears in her eyes or just a reflection off the club lights, he placed his other hand over hers. Her hands were now sandwiched between his.

“Course I kept it. It was the company’s fuckin’ good luck charm, given to me by me angel, yeah? Why the hell would I get rid of it?”

A genuine smile appeared as she squeezed his hand. “I am glad it brought you luck. From what your reputation says, even the devil himself could not have taken you down, Mr. Solomons.”

“Fuckin’ hell, he tried a few times. I had a promise to keep though. An angel told me I wasn’t allowed to die.”

“You certainly are a man of your word.”

“Mmm…yeah, yeah. That s’me.” His thoughts seemed to move sluggishly when he realized how close they were. Hands clasped between the two of them, bodies leaning forward. It felt surreal. She was truly here…in the flesh. All he wanted to do was pull her into his lap, wrap his arms around her and never let her go. Yet it had been eight years. He had changed, and he suspected she had too. Did she still want him like he wanted her? Could she? Or was this all a dream sent to torment him?

A voice destroyed their peaceful moment. A figure coming to stand near them. “Sarah, I think it’s time we leave.”

“Of course, Hector.” Sarah squeezed Alfie’s hands one last time before releasing him and standing up.

Alfie stared at the man who helped Sarah slip on her fur-lined coat. His eyes narrowed as he noticed the man kept his hand on her lower back.

“Who is your friend here?” The man asked, his American accent easily recognizable. His blue eyes peered through his thin-rimmed spectacles, an intelligence there that was undeniable.

“Yes, my apologies. Hector, this is Alfie Solomons. Alfie, this is Hector Richardson, my business partner.”

Hector nodded slightly. “You seem to know each other well for how long you were talking.”

“We s’old friends, yeah. Haven’t seen her in years.” Alfie said, drumming his fingers on his cane.

“Old friends.” Hector repeated slowly. “Well pleasure to meet you, Mr. Solomons, but as I stated earlier, Sarah and I need to leave.”

Alfie grumbled, an unintelligent consent, wishing for this Hector to find himself at the bottom of the Thames. He did not like the look of him. He could not be much older than himself but this American carried himself like somehow Alife had insulted his mother. He had a handsome enough face, minus the slightly hooked nose and thin lips pursed in annoyance. What bothered Alfie the most was the possessive touch he had on Sarah. The idea to do some digging into this- Hector Richardson- sounded worthwhile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Angel?”

“Yes, I promise.” She winked at him, furthering the scowl on Hector’s face. The two walked away, getting lost in the midst of the crowded club.

Her heady scent of lavender lingered behind like a pleasant memory. The feel of her hands in his brought a warmth to his soul that had been cold for a long time. In all reality, he knew he was overreacting to her reappearance. It had been eight years since he last seen her and truthfully at any moment she could vanish once again. Yet the irrational piece of his brain he usually silenced chirped that it felt like a missing piece was back in his life.

Grumbling to himself, he rubbed his hand over his mouth and jaw, thoughts now turning to tomorrow and their meeting. He could not help but smirk at the knowledge that she was getting into the illegal liquor business. Even after all these years, the girl who should have been a princess and high above the rest of the peasants was still rolling in the mud with them. Even if she still carried a dignity and grace about her that made others turn heads and take notice. She may be in the mud with the peasants but she was a queen, no one could deny that.

“Mr. Solomons.”

Alfie turned to the wop from earlier who approached, now cleansed of lipstick.

“Mr. Sabini can see you now.”

Quickly Alfie slammed the rest of his whiskey back, that familiar burn bringing him back to the present and this god-forsaken meeting.

“A’right, lets get this done, mate.”

 *****

-The next day-

 “So you see sir…that’s…that’s what ‘appened. Just an accident.” The young man stood quaking under Alfie’s gaze, eyes darting around as if any of the other bakers would step in and help him.

Alfie grunted, turning to stare at the large spill of rum soaking into the floor. All he could see was money wasted, laying on the ground. Sure the other lads had managed to save most of the rum in the broken barrel but that did not alleviate one of the newest bakers from learning to be careful with the goods. Normally the foreman on the floor would be dealing with this mess but unfortunately Ishmael was out checking a new batch of cane sugar from Jamaica before bringing it back to the bakery. So that left dealing with this imbecile to the boss.

“Clean this fuckin’ mess up.” He demanded, paused a moment to see the young man nod erratically then turned to head back to this office. The shit that needed to get done today kept piling up without any signs of a reprieve in the future for him. This was something he really did not need to happen today. A shipment was supposed to go out tonight that he wanted to look over once more then there was that pub owner he needed to address for his late payments along with…

“I’m sorry, sir… I won’t spill no more rum. Thank you, sir…”

Before the young man finished uttering his sentence, Alfie turned around to tower over the lad. He glared, summoning all his repressed anger and intimidation, then poured it like hot oil over the lad.

“May I remind you…that the distinction between bread and rum, yeah…IS NOT DISCUSSED!” Alfie ended roaring into the quivering lad’s face. “GET IT THROUGH THAT THICK SKULL OR I’LL FUCKIN’ CRACK IT OPEN!” Without waiting for a response, he turned and started towards his office. If the smell of piss was any indicator, he guessed he would not have any troubles again with that one.

Back in his office, he slammed the door shut, startling Cyril from his nap on his bed on the floor. The bull mastiff looked up at his master before laying his head back on his front paws, watching the muttering man, unaffected by his foul mood.

Shuffling around his cluttered desk, Alfie checked his pocket watch and groaned. It was only 9am and already he wished for the day to be over. He dropped down onto his seat to stare at the paperwork before him. It was an unending pile that he seemed unable to escape no matter the number of late nights or early mornings. Slipping his halfmoon spectacles on, he started again on the notice he had been reading earlier. Someone must have dropped it by late last night. It was from one of the police officers on his payroll, saying how they were getting a new captain and a few new recruits with a list of names. Alfie made a mental note to have the captain checked out, see if he could be of use before Sabini got to him.

A gentle knocking brought Alfie out of his thoughts but kept his eyes glued to the paper before him. “Oi! What s’want, Ollie?”

The creaking of his door alerted him to Ollie’s entrance.

“This better be good, yeah, or you can just fuck right off now.”

“Would you prefer for me to come another time?”

The teasing, sweet, feminine voice had Alfie almost giving himself whiplash with how fast his head jerked up. Ollie stood just inside the office, keeping the door open, meanwhile Sarah stood in the doorway looking like a vision as usual, a mischievous smirk on her lips.

“I like the spectacles by the way. They make you look…scholarly.”

Alfie snorted, taking the glasses off before rising. “Fuckin’ hell, love. I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

“I said I would. I always follow through with my promises.” She stepped further in, her heels clicking on the wood paneled floor. “I can come back another day if you are busy.”

“No, no. S’fine.”

“Ollie,” she turned back to smile at the man, “perhaps that pot of tea and scones would be beneficial right now.” She started to peel her fur-lined coat off, the same from the prior night if Alfie was not mistaken. Ollie immediately jumped to her aid, taking her coat and hanging it up on the hooks near the door. Sometimes Alfie wondered at the true intelligence of his assistant but the lad was certainly raised well in how to treat female guests. Probably due to his mother who was a tyrant when she wanted to be but would tear down governments for anyone she cared for.

“Of course, Mrs. Bondurant. Anything else I can do, Alfie?”

“No, just that.” He leaned on the edge of his desk, running a hand over his mouth and jaw. “Then we aren’t to be disturbed, yeah? When Ishmael returns, he can leave the papers with you for now.”

“Yes, sir.” Ollie gave one quick nod, his shaggy hair shaking with the movement before closing the door behind him.

“Mrs. Bondurant, eh? You married?”

She smiled slyly before taking time to look over his office. “Would it change things if I was?”

“Well that means I’ve been having inappropriate thoughts about a married woman, yeah, very inappropriate.” He watched her, wishing he could read her mind. He wondered what she thought of his office. It was cluttered with bookshelves and files. A fireplace sat abandoned in one corner, only used on the rarest of occasions in the dead of winter. There were a map London on one wall and a couple drawings from an local artist he admired. He also did not mind admiring her in the cream calf-length skirt and plum blouse, a very sophisticated and modern look. She looked ready to take on the world, especially in those heels that made her legs look like a divine treat but were sharp enough to stab someone with. He wondered if she wore them because of how they looked or as a weapon. Probably with her, both reasons.

Slowly, she moved from where she had been admiring a drawing to stand before him. “And if I am not? If I am simply Sarah?”

“You ain’t never been just Sarah to me.”

Her lips twitched as her eyes trailed over his face and eyes, reading and weighing out his words. One of her hands came up to brush through his bristly beard, her thumb rubbing across the scar just above his jaw.

“France.” He answered her unspoken question. “Shrapnel from a bomb.”

“I heard you were made a captain.”

“Not noteworthy, love.”

“I disagree, I like the sound of Captain Solomons.”

There was that teasing, mischievous look back in her gemstone eyes that he remembered so well. Standing so close, even in her heels, her eyes were level with his chin. A strange realization that so much had changed since they last saw one another except for this. She was still the perfect height in his opinion. Her hand on his cheek, he drew his own hand over her cheekbone before running through her shortened hair.

“Why you cut your hair?”

“Are you not aware? It is the latest fashion.” She batted her eyelashes and pouted her lips, the perfect image of a spoiled aristocrat.

He chuckled, running his hand through more slowly this time. At least it did not feel full of product like some women wore their hair. “Sure it is. Never guessed you’d be one to follow the rules.”

“Maybe I will grow it back out. It does help me not to stand out.”

“Love, you are a beautiful angel. Anyone who don’t see that is a fuckin’ fool.”

“I see you still have that charmer’s tongue and honeyed words.”

“I am a man of many talents.”

“Mmm…I seem to recall a few of those talents, especially involving that tongue of yours.”

“Only a few? S’shame, yeah, gonna need to fix that, yeah.” His hands landed on her hips, holding her close. Their gazes remained locked, a heat spilling out between them to fill the air. This teasing, flirtatious banter they so easily fell into felt different this time. Maybe it was because they were different people now. Maybe it was because the time spent apart. Yet Alfie guessed it was because they no longer were hindered by her family and his limited time before the war. No, now they were free. He hoped.  

“Please tell me you s’unmarried, I don’t need to be fightin’ no angry husband later.”

“Afraid you will lose?”

“No, Angel, its cos if I kiss you, I ain’t lettin’ you go again, damn your husband.”

“How do I know you are not married?”

“Been too busy.” He dragged his lips over the shell of her ear, loving the way her hands gripped the front of his shirt like a safety line. “Now answer me question, love.”

“No, I am not married.”

“Mmm…good, good.”

“What now, Captain Solomons?” One of her hands reached down to gently cup his growing erection. “I thought I was here to talk business and see your bakery.”

He suppressed a groan, trying to keep his thoughts in line. It was hard to think beyond this bubble of lust they were creating. The lock on the office door had been replaced lately, so being disturbed was not an issue. There was nowhere to lay her down though. If memory served him correctly, she did not mind being pinned against a wall (although his hip may protest). He wondered how she would feel about utilizing his desk. It was very sturdy. His hands slipped down to cup her ass, pulling her closer as he lightly kissed a trail down her neck. “It ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

And of course that was the moment Ollie chose to reenter with the tray of tea and biscuits. Opening the door, his eyes fixated on the two, his mouth gaping slightly. In all honesty, he probably did not expect to see his boss caressing this strange woman as one of her hands cupped his cock, her other tangled in his hair, pulling his head closer. That would give anyone a shock.

“Ah, um…I can come…”

“That is alright, Ollie.” Sarah stepped away from Alfie, somehow disentangling herself with ease and speed that astounded him. Probably did not help all the blood had rushed from his brain down to his cock. “Tea sounds delightful. I have been missing a good pot of English tea. Soothes the soul.” She peeked over her shoulder at Alfie, who had a scowl on his face. “Business before pleasure, sweetheart.”

Ollie almost dropped the tray on Alfie’s desk with that last comment.

Grumbling, Alfie tried to subtly adjust himself and get his mind off the feeling of how good her body felt under his hands. God, it was like the best wet dream and a nightmare simultaneously; having her so close and ready, yet then it being ripped away suddenly.

“Oh? And who is this handsome boy?”

Alfie straightened, fear coursing through him. So lost in her he had forgotten about the dog. “Sarah, wait-“

It was too late, she knelt down on the other side of Alfie’s desk near Cyril’s bed. Even Ollie momentarily looked horrified. Alfie expected to hear a cry or a growl, yet the immediate sound that greeted him was her cooing and a tail thumping. Coming around to the other side of his desk, shocked did not even begin to describe how he felt at the scene before him. There lay his massive dog that had torn men to shreds in protection of Alfie, who normally disliked strangers and even then was choosy about who he let touch him….now lay on his back, legs sprawled, tongue lolling as he got his belly and chest scratched. Sarah knelt on the floor, facing him, her voice low and cooing at him like he was the sweetest puppy. It would have been comical if Alfie could wrap his head around what his eyes were seeing. Exchanging a look with Ollie only mirrored his own surprise.

“Didn’t know you s’dog person.”

She looked back at Alfie, the widest, genuine smile on her face he had ever seen. “I love dogs. They are the most loyal companions and great for cuddling.”

“Mmm…” Alfie muttered, rubbing a hand over his face and jaw. He watched a second longer, transfixed by the sight in front of him. Glancing to his side, he suddenly remembered Ollie standing there, who now was staring at her with a dreamy look. “Oi! Keep those eyes in your head, boy. Now fuck off!”

He did not have to be asked twice, most likely knowing Alfie was pissed at him already for interrupting…whatever was happening before he arrived with the tray. Ollie stumbled an apology, along with a parting before scurrying out of the office, closing the door behind him.

“Are you always so harsh with him?”

“Didn’t like ‘im starin’ at you.” He reached a hand out to help her back to her feet, much to Cyril’s dismay. Rolling her eyes, she allowed him to pull her to her feet. Before he could get his hands fully back on her, she evaded him to glide over to the tray.

“Now, tell me the tale of how Alfie Solomons became a distiller of rum and owner of such a fine bakery. I must confess I tried one of those honeyed scones with Mrs. Liebgott, who is a delight herself, and it was delectable. I may have to come back just for that.” Sarah poured herself a cup of tea while she spoke then sat to blow gently on the steaming liquid. At her last comment, a soft whine came from around the side of Alfie’s desk. “Precious boy, I will come back and see you too. Oh! What is his name?”

“Cyril.” Alfie shook his head at the strangeness of this encounter, but then again, when had him and Sarah ever met like normal people. He rounded his desk to sit in his seat, shuffling some papers out of the way to not spill tea on. “Why you askin’ ‘bout me business?”

“Curiosity…perhaps I am impressed and am trying to see how the young man I once knew with bloody fists has now become such a successful businessman.”

“You forgot to mention dangerous gangster.”

“You would not be the first of those I have encountered.”

He squinted his eyes at her, disliking that comment. Gangsters were not to be trusted. Who else around here besides Sabini had she ‘encountered’? Had she somehow met the Shelbys? The fuckin’ Russians? Why could she not stay out of trouble?

As if reading his thoughts, she waved a hand dismissively. “In America. Apparently it is a growing trend. Now, I am still waiting for my story.”

“A’right. First,” he pointed a finger at her, “where this ‘Mrs. Bondurant’ business start? Then you’ll get your fuckin’ story.”

Several silent moments passed, her holding her tea cup against her lips as she stared off to the side. Softly, just above a whisper, she finally spoke. “My father disowned me, said I was a disgrace to our family name. I never fit into the mold that he wanted.  Do not look at me with that pity, it truthfully was not a surprise to anyone. Once he realized I refused to be married off to benefit his business and position, he no longer had a need for me. Besides, he had my brother who was beginning to follow in his footsteps. So I went back to stay with some distant family in America…”

“That’s why your letters came from there. The men thought I had me an American sweetheart.”

She chuckled. “I remember you mentioning that. Ishmael wrote me a letter about how you got into a fight when one of the men called me a ‘whore’ or something. Still defending my honor even in the middle of a war.”

“Fuckin’ hell…he did?”

She nodded slowly, smile growing on her face.

Grumbling about useless friends under his breath, he motioned for her to continue her story.

“I traveled around some, New York City, Chicago, Charleston. I have some cousins who got into the liquor business of distribution to places willing to pay for the stuff even though it is illegal now. Apparently I have a good mind for business and numbers so they convinced me to help them.”

“That man last night…”

“He is a distant cousin, a business partner. Him and his brother are the ones I work with.”

He shook his head, secretly pleased the man was not a suitor. “Why the fuck he so possessive of you?”

“We have had a few encounters with gangsters who…who wanted me to be part of the deal. They have become a bit protective of me since. And also his wife is one of my good friends. Before we left to come here, she told him if anything happened to me, she would cut his cock off.”

He laughed, not expecting that.

“He has a valid reason to be afraid. You do not mess with Southern women, they are usually sweet and kind but they can be brutal if they want too. Anyway, after an…incident, I had to lay low for a while. Hector had me stay with some friends in Virginia who are moonshiners. Actually one of them reminded me of you. It was uncanny. His name was Forrest Bondurant. I guess at one point while I was resting, some men came to the house asking questions about me. Forrest told them I was his wife…and it just stuck. It certainly kept the men in the area from trying anything. It is not like I wanted to go by Sarah Byron anymore.”

“Mmm…what was this incident?”

She shook her head. “No, I answered your question. Now I get my story.”

Fiddling with the rings on his hands, he found himself pouring out about life after the war. Only two women in his life had been able to boss him around, his mum and the angel staring at him with eyes of interest and affection. He talked about how coming back he noticed how many men could not get work, their families forced onto the streets. Plus while he was gone, his mother started to get sick. Without proper care, because she could not afford it, she began to deteriorate. Seeing this, he began to figure out ways to make money to pay for her care. Thus the rum business began. He still had all his prior connections, memories of how everything worked and now the man power to make it a business. The idea of the bakery had actually been inspired by his mum who complained that he always came home smelling of molasses and rum. He managed to afford her the best care until she passed two years ago. Now his life consisted of his business. He still “ran” Camden, giving protection to those willing to pay for it and trying to keep the wops off his turf. He dabbled with races some but that was more Sabini’s territory. With the growing popularity of his nephew, he was thinking about getting into boxing matches more instead of it just being recreational. He was unsure how long he spoke for, her asking questions along the way. The tea and scones were long gone. Cyril had gotten up at some point and sat next to Sarah, laying his head on her knee so she could pet him absent-mindedly as she listened to Alfie.

Dramatically, the office door opened. Ishmael entered, a surprised and smug look on his face.

“What the fuck, mate?” Alfie demanded.

Ishmael glanced at his boss and friend before turning back to Sarah. His eyes scanned over her like she was a new species he had discovered. “Damn, Ollie was right.”

“Ishmael?” Her eyebrows rose as her mind seemed to connect his face to her memories.

“Yeah, love. It’s me. What you doin’ here?”

“Just talking history and business.”

Ishmael leaned against Alfie’s desk, ignoring the glare being sent his way by Alfie, focusing on her. “You comin’ down to the floor to see the bakery? I’d give you a tour.”

“Oi! You got somethin’ important cos if not then fuck off, yeah?”

“Seein’ the lovely woman who holds me friend’s heart is important.” Ishmael winked at Sarah before looking over his shoulder at Alfie, a shit-eating grin on his face. “And I came to tell you that one of our lads got in a fight with one of them Pikey boys and now that big fella, the red-head, is demandin’ to speak to you.”

“Fuck.” Alfie groaned, rolling his eyes skyward. He needed all the patience to deal with that particular man, who was good at his job but just continued to rub Alfie the wrong way constantly. Looking over at Sarah, he could read the amusement and understanding in her eyes. “Love, I’m sorry…”

“It is fine, Alfie. I am sure I have taken up more than enough of your time today. You do have a business to run.” She stood up, brushing out her skirt.

“Have dinner with me tonight.”

“What?”

He rose, coming around the desk to stand before her. A sudden desperation in him that he could not let her leave without knowing he would see her again soon. “Lemme take you out tonight. I’ll pick you up at eight. I still didn’t hear none of your time in America and we never talked business.”

She paused a moment, eyes scanning his face. “I would like that.”

“Mmm…good, yeah, good.” Before she could grab it, he reached over and snagged her coat, helping her into it. “Ollie! In ‘ere!”

Ollie stepped in, seeming to have been waiting just outside the door. Probably expecting to get chewed out for letting Ishmael in.

“Good. Take Mrs. Bondurant to the hotel she is staying. Use me car, yeah, have David drive you.”

“Alfie…” She started to argue, hand placed on his chest.

“No, that’s an order, yeah?”

She cupped his cheek, before pressing her lips to it. “Of course, Captain. See you tonight.”

He mumbled something unintelligent, brain suddenly on hiatus with the feeling of her lips on his skin.

Giving a brief smile to Ishmael, she followed Ollie down the walkway, looking like a goddess amongst the dim and dusty bakery.

Alfie shook his head, dragging his eyes away from the door to Ishmael to ask him a question. His foreman and friend just stared at him smirking. “What?”

“Gonna propose proper this time?”

“Ah, fuck off.”

Ishmael laughed, pushing off Alfie’s desk. “Bout time you married and started having a house full of babies. Me wife is sick of making dinners for you all the time.”

“I’m just waitin’ for you to finally die then Ruth knows I’ll marry her right after your ass is buried in the ground. ‘sides, your ankle biters like me more.”

“Well you be waitin’ around a while…don’t plan on dying yet.”

“Good, good. I need you still, you fuckin’ bastard. Now let’s go crack some heads, yeah? Cyril, c’mon boy.”

Ishmael clapped a hand to Alfie’s shoulder quick before walking out of the office. Straightening the rings on his fingers, he allowed his boss persona to rise to the surface. Alone with Ishmael, they could joke but out in the bakery, he was the boss you did not fuck with or your blood spilled on the ground. Cyril at his side, he strode out of his office, wanting to deal with this mess as quickly as possible. He had a pile of things he needed to do still but nothing would stop him from seeing his angel tonight. He cracked his knuckles. Like she said, first business then pleasure.

 *****

Unfortunately business took longer than Alfie wanted. It was closer to nine that evening when his car pulled up in front of the hotel Sarah was staying at. A nice place with brick walls, banners and an attendant at the door to greet guests and provide information. Alfie let his driver go home claiming to need the drive to clear his head, when truthfully he just did not want to be around anyone. That afternoon had been exhausting from dealing with the Pikeys working in his bakery (damn Shelby for convincing him this was a good idea) and then trying to catch up on paperwork. Parking the car on the side of the street, he hopped out, almost getting hit by an erratic driver before heading towards the hotel.

“How can I be of service, sir?” The attendant politely asked when Alfie approached the double doors.

“Um, lookin’ for a friend. She s’stayin’ here.”

The attendant glanced him up and down quickly as if assessing Alfie’s worth of being allowed through his doors. Before Alfie could give him a piece of his mind, the man spoke up. “Would you, by chance, be a Mister Solomons?”

“Um…yeah.”

“Ah. A Mrs. Bondurant said she would be waiting for you at the bar, sir.”

Grumbling to himself, he nodded to the man before slipping past the double doors and heading off to the bar area on the right. His eyes shrewdly scanned over the patrons before landing on her. What should of brought elation only caused a shot of fiery anger to course dangerously through him. Sitting next to her at the bar was a man who was much too close and much too focused on her in Alfie’s opinion. He was fully turned facing her, holding a glass of amber liquid in one hand and the other draped across the back of her chair.

Sarah was only turned slightly towards him but one of her hands were carefully holding a wine glass and the other a lit cigarette. Her dress was a deep red, V-necked so her cleavage peeked out enticingly, and two strands of pearls hanging over her chest with black heels that were sharp. She looked positively beautiful and sinful at the same time.

The man brought his face closer to hers, whispering something before leaning back and chuckling about whatever it was. Sarah laughed along but it seemed fake to Alfie. To his growing rage, he witnessed the man place a hand on her thigh as he continued talking casually.

Without warning, Alfie stormed over and practically yanked the man out of his seat, causing him to spill his drink all over the counter. “Keep your fuckin’ hands and eyes off ‘er, yeah? Or I’ll cut ‘em off. Got it?” He growled into the man’s face.

“What the fuck?” The man scrambled to stand up straight, made impossible by the way Alfie was gripping the man’s suit jacket. His own voice rising to meet Alfie’s anger. “We were just talking. Who the fuck do you think you are? Get your bloody hands off me.”

Permission granted and uncaring of the amount of stares he was receiving, he pulled the man upright to get into his face. “I’m Alfie Solomons, that’s who the fuck I am.”

Alfie watched the lightbulb go off in the man’s eyes as his name sunk into his thick skull. Where there had been irritation and rising fury, now was doused away with the realization of who held him and pure fear at the unknown of Alfie’s actions.

“Good, good. Anymore questions? No? Then fuck off, mate.” He released the man, who stumbled back before righting himself. He opened his mouth as if to say something but with Alfie’s pointed glare, he clamped it shut and briskly walked away without even looking at Sarah.

Rubbing a hand over his eyes, Alfie turned back to Sarah. She had not moved, a single eyebrow raised as she took a sip of her wine.

“You look like you need a drink.”

He chuckled darkly. “More than one.”

Taking the man’s seat, he plopped down and ran a hand over his eyes. He signaled for a whiskey from the bartender, who quickly cleaned up the spilled drink. “Sorry, ‘m late, love, I had some unforeseen business…”

“Was that necessary?”

He stopped at her abrupt interruption. Turning slightly to face her, he eyed her. “What?”

Pursing her lips, she took a drag off her cigarette before speaking, the smoke dancing out of her lips and floating above her head. “Was it necessary to come after William like that?”

“William, eh? You two s’friends?”

“No, I just met him.”

“Then pardon me but what the fuck is the problem then? You didn’t seem to enjoy none of how close he was to you or was I readin’ that wrong? You tryin’ for his attention? Hopin’ to fuck him?”

With that, she turned to face him, emerald eyes glowing with unbridled rage. “You listen, Alfie Solomons,” she spat out, keeping her voice low but no less deadly. “I can talk to, spend time with and fuck whomever I want. I am not some innocent posh girl you need to protect anymore. Nor am I yours in any way. I am my own and I can do whatever the hell I want. If that affects us then you can be on your way and do not expect to hear from me. Am I making myself clear?”

Alfie’s own anger rose up instinctively. No one had talked to him like that in years and he remembered how much he hated it. His own blue eyes met her emerald, flames practically flickering between them with the surrounding air thick with tension. He did not flinch nor look away when the bartender hesitantly slide his drink in front of him. This battle of wills between them, staring purposefully into her heated gaze made him notice something. There was a darkness that lingered in the edges of those beautiful, gemstone eyes he had always loved so much that had not been there the times prior they had met. No, this was something new and it broke his heart. It was the same darkness that lingered in himself, in returned soldiers, in people who had seen far too much violence and their minds could not forget. She was haunted, just like him. Whatever anger he held crumbled like dust at this realization. All he could think of was pulling her into his arms to protect her from her own pain. What had happened since he had last seen her those eight years ago?

“A’right, love, a’right. You s’right. Just don’t want to see you hurt, yeah?”

After a long pause, he could see the tension drain from her posture. Slowly, she brought a hand up to cup his cheek, her thumb rubbing over his scar. “Why do you still care? Why are you still looking out for me?”

“Cos you s’me angel. You deserve it.”

A hint of tears glistened in her eyes as she held his gaze once again, but with a very different emotion this time.

“Now, it’s been a fuckin’ long day after you left. Me temper may have gotten the best of me. Here we are and this mornin’ you promised to tell me your story…mmm…so…”

“Is that so?” She chuckled, pulling her hand back to grasp her glass, and there was that twinkle in her eye that meant trouble. “Perhaps I want to see if you will beg for it?”

He leaned forward, invading her space intimately, as he whispered in her ear. “There is only one reason I would beg…and we will both be naked before that happens.” Returning to an upright position, he witnessed her pupils dilated slightly and lick her lips subconsciously. A jolt of desire shot through him at her action.

“An interesting proposal, Mr. Solomons. There is one thing I have heard that I am most curious about.”

“Mmm?”

“Some new friends I have made informed me that at the Paradise you regularly pay more for blonde company.” She smirked, lifting the cigarette to her lips again.

“Fuckin’ hell, what are you doin’ at a whorehouse?”

“I told you, I thoroughly research those who I may be doing business with.”

“You s’still trouble, Miss Sarah. Fuck…what you learn ‘bout Sabini?”

Shaking her head, she laughed making a smile appear on his own face. The prior tension between them fully gone.

“When you start smokin’?” Not that it bothered him terribly. During the war, he had become used to the smell. It was one of the few ways a soldier could attempt to relax while in the trenches. He never acquired the taste for it personally, much to the amusement of some of his men.

She shrugged, ��I cannot rightly say. It just happened.”

He nodded, taking a sip of the whiskey. Not terrible stuff, surprisingly. Opening his mouth to tease her about it, the words died on his tongue as a different voice called out to her.  

“Sarah? Sarah Byron, is that you?”

The tightening of her hand around her glass was the only give away of emotions. Gracefully she turned to face the man now standing behind her. Alfie’s ire returned, especially with the look this man was giving her. In his crisp suit, cropped hair and smug smile, he looked the part of an arrogant aristocrat. He practically smelled of money from family inheritance.

“Yes…Joseph?”

He smiled broadly, eyes trailing over her body. Quickly he took that last step forward, plucked her hand and kissed the back of it. “My dear Sarah, it is a true pleasure to see you. I do believe your beauty has only grown since I last saw you. Unfortunately I have a brief meeting I must attend now but after, could I take you out for a drink or food? There is a splendid restaurant not far from here my driver could take us.  It has been far too long since we were able to talk without any preconceived notions and expectations.”

“Sorry, mate, she s’busy tonight.”

For the first time, the man turned his focus on Alfie. Meeting his narrowed eyes, all Alfie could think of was a serpent.

“Oh? Is she? And who are you?”

“Alfie Solomons.”

The man’s eyebrows rose. “The gangster?” He looked back at Sarah. “Fascinating company you keep, my dear.”

“And who the fuck are you?” Everything in Alfie screamed at him to stand up and have this bastard’s face meet his fist…repeatedly.

“I am Joseph Coventry, Earl of Lancashire.” Keeping his sly gaze on Sarah, he pulled the single red rose out of his suit jacket’s pocket. He held it out for her, who took it somewhat reluctantly as he spoke again. “Truly a shame I must leave but I will call on you soon. Have a pleasant evening, Lady Sarah.” After a quick peck on her knuckles this time, he headed towards a far table already containing three men dressed similarly and with an air of high class.

“What the…”

Ignoring Alfie, she turned to the bartender. “Whiskey, a whole bottle, yes that one will do. Two glasses. Put it on my tab, please.” Snatching the glass bottle and glasses, she stabbed her cigarette out and left it on the ashtray before she got up and started towards the nearby stairs.

Alfie stared at the men a moment longer…this Joseph Coventry…an arrogant bastard if he had ever met one. It might be prudent to ask around about him. Alfie could usually get a good read on people, those that were trustworthy or not. Everything about this prick made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and his hand to unconsciously twitch to grab the pistol under his jacket. There was something there…something dangerous and deadly just under the surface…and the man had his eyes on Sarah. No, Alfie would not tolerate that.

After taking that moment to memorize Coventry’s face, he followed after Sarah up the stairs. He had a few new questions for her and with her purchase of a whole whiskey bottle, he was unsure how much longer she would be sober for. Although the idea of seeing her drunk did amuse him slightly, he wondered if she would be the angry type or the giggly, excessively talking type. Personally he hoped for the cuddly type but he would never take advantage of a drunk woman. He may be a low life gangster with too much blood on his hands but he did have some morals.

He quickly caught up to her on the second floor as she opened the door to room number 16. Without a word or a look back at him, she walked through and into the hotel room, leaving the door wide open. He followed, closing and locking the door behind him before scanning the place. The room certainly had an upscale feel with its floral wallpaper, wood accents and gaudy still life paintings. There were only two other doors, one he guessed led to the washroom and the other to the bedroom. His focus though turned to the woman who had collapsed onto the couch, her high heels kicked to the side, and pouring two fingers worth of whiskey. Within moments after pouring it, she slammed it down and poured another. So many questions resided on his lips but he kept them closed. Moving around the room, he tossed his coat onto a nearby wingback chair and joined her on the couch. He sat on the opposite end, allowing her space. To his surprise, she poured him a glass and wordlessly handed it to him. After pouring herself another glass, she leaned back and closed her eyes. He could not help his wandering gaze, eyes drifting to those sleek legs with more skin exposed as her dress had ridden up with her unladylike posture, and the swell of her breast, straining against her dress.

“Do you remember…” she stopped, licking her lips as of to encourage the words to come out, “…last time we saw each other. I told you I was back because I was supposed to be getting married.”

“Yeah.” Then it clicked and his eyes widened momentarily. “That…that bastard? That s’who?”

She took a tentative sip of her drink this time, still leaning back and keeping her eyes closed.

“Fuck, love, think you dodged a bullet with that one.”

A snort escaped her but it was her eyes opening and turning to look at him that caused him to finally relax.

“Tell me, Sarah.”

And so she did. He could tell she glossed over much of her story and skipped certain parts entirely. Yet he let her talk, sharing about her past eight years and things she had done. He sat mesmerized by her and her story. After the “insult” perceived by her father, he disowned her, kicking her out of the house no matter her mother begging for him to reconsider. More determined than ever to prove herself and to never let a man control her, she got on a boat and traveled back to her mother’s distant family in America. Finally America decided to join the Great War and many men were sent over to Europe. During this time she became more involved in that family’s business and proved herself to be an asset. Once the war was over, she continued with the work but settled more behind the scenes. Prohibition happened which only proved to make business a challenge she thrived in. Her brother died in France during the war and with the grief of losing her son and disownment of her daughter, her mother fell into a deep depression and eventually died. Her father died last year, the only reason she felt confident in returning to London after all this time.

Somehow during her retelling, their postures changed. Alfie had shifted to sit closer to her, feet still planted on the ground and a glass in his hand. Sarah laid stretched out on the couch, her legs over his lap with her head on the arm rest and a glass in her hand. Together, they were slowly working through the whiskey bottle while she spoke. His hand skimmed up and down her legs, the feeling of her stockings and skin under his hand was intoxicating.

When her story ended, he asked something that had been gnawing on him for years. “Why did your letters to me stop?”

She threw back the rest of her glass, turning to look at the large window they faced. “I did something stupid and got thrown in jail for a short time before family could get me out. The sheriff was not a fan of me.”

Something about the way she tensed and refused to look at him made him wonder what happened to her while in jail. Nothing good. The thought of this sheriff laying a hand on her made his blood boil and he wondered if the man was still alive so he could kill him himself. Slowly and painfully.

Reaching a hand over, he gripped her free hand and entwined their fingers. There was nothing he could say or do to take away the pain no matter how much he wanted to. He changed the subject, hoping to bring her out of the solemnness that she was wallowing in. “How long until you head back?”

“Two weeks? A month? Depends on if we decide to go to France and meet some connections there.”

“That s’it?”

He could not disguise the sadness nor longing in his voice. Emerald eyes turned to meet his, mirroring his emotions. Slowly she sat up, setting her glass down before placing one hand on his shoulder and another on his cheek.

“I will not leave unannounced. I can promise you that.”

“Is it selfish for me to want all your time while you’re here?”

She smirked, dragging her thumb across his lower lip. “Something particular in mind to occupy our time?”

“I’m sure I can get creative.”

“Promises, promises, Captain Solomons.”

In a heated rush, his lips claimed hers. Whatever slow building fire that burned between them suddenly turned into an inferno and Alfie swore he felt like his blood was aflame. Unexpectedly  she moved to straddle him, hands tugging on the buttons on his shirt. His own hands fumbled between cupping her ass and undoing the buttons on her dress. He sipped on the sweet ambrosia that was her mouth, drowning in the taste of her tongue and the heat between her legs over his straining cock. It was heaven. It was torment. There was one thing he knew, he could not stop. Whatever self-control he had flew out the window once their lips touched. He was fully under her control and had no intentions of going anywhere else. In one last draw of strength, he pulled away to meet her lust filled eyes. They had been drinking and he did not want her to regret this come morning.

“Angel, you sure?”

Slowly, she blinked as if awakening from a fog. Then she pulled off his lap to stand before him. A piece of him died when she turned and started to walk away. Did she regret this? Had he pushed her too far? They were certainly different people and with everything she had shared tonight, perhaps this was not what she wanted.

His breath caught in this throat, hope and fear warring within him when she stopped at the bedroom door. Meeting his gaze, she reached back and undid the last few buttons on her dress. It slipped down to pool at her bare feet, leaving her standing there in a sheer shift that left nothing to the imagination. She looked like both the angel he called her and sin wrapped up in a body that begged to be worshipped and ravished until she could not move. His blonde, green-eyed siren regarded him, a smile growing on her lips as he stared.

“Coming, soldier?” Turning around she strolled into the darkness in her bedroom, the slip coming off and dropping onto the floor like a trail for him to follow.

He did not think he had ever scrambled off a couch so fast. His shirt fell onto her dress on the floor, symbolic of their owners just a few feet away.

The rest of the night was spent in a haze of lust, laughter and contentment. Neither brought up the new scars scattered along both of their bodies. Pleasure was the purpose of the night. Something they certainly succeeded at if how sore they both were come morning was any indicator.

 *****

-The next day-

 Alfie sat at his desk, massaging his sore hip. He had been forced to use his cane more than he cared for today but thinking of the prior night and the reason why…completely worth it.

A knocking on his door had him looking up. “Come in.”

One of his men came in, a fellow soldier from France and now a baker, when he was not needed as protection on the streets.

“John, good, good. C’mere.”

John shut the door behind him and took the indicated seat, the chair creaking slightly under the weight. John was a large man, muscular and thick with a bushy beard and watchful eyes. Although Alfie would never tell him out loud, John was one of the few he trusted most that worked for him and found him indispensable. But Alfie did not want to boost the man’s ego more than it was.

“I got a task for your lads.” Alfie rubbed his hand over his jaw and mouth for a moment before continuing, damn the consequences. “There’s someone I need your lads to keep an eye on for me. A Mrs. Sarah Bondurant. Don’t let ‘er know, yeah. Just report who she s’been meetin’ with and make sure no one harms her.”

“This the woman who came by yesterday?”

Alfie raised a single eyebrow.

John shrugged. “Ishmael been talkin’.”

“Fuckin’ hell, that ugly bastard. Yeah, yeah, it is. Think you can do it?”

“Course.”

“One last thing. See what you can find out about a Joseph Coventry.”

“The earl?” John asked, clearly surprised.

“Yeah, I gots me a bad feelin’ ‘bout him.”

“Yes, boss. I’ll stop by in two days. Should have somethin’ by then.”

“Good, good. Thanks, John.”

After John left, Alfie toyed with the gold star ring on his left hand, lost in thought. After hearing everything from Sarah and seeing some of her scars, it only increased his desire to protect her. She would certainly be livid with him if she knew he had men looking out for her. He both loved and hated that independent streak in her. For now though, he needed to focus on work. He had managed that morning to draw a promise to see her again tonight, and this time he planned to take her out proper…maybe go back to his place after? He smiled at the thought of her writhing beneath his sheets. Maybe they should just go straight to his house?

A loud bang sounded from outside his door drew his attention back to the present and a scowl formed on his face. No rest for the wicked.

“Oi! The fuck is goin’ on out there?!”

[ariainstars]

Star Wars: Fatalism Against the „I Wish” Moment

Here it goes again, the question as to why The Rise of Skywalker sucked. Sigh. It just can’t leave me alone, can it?

After the first two chapters, honestly, I was expecting the sequel trilogy to become as good (or almost) as the original one. But precisely the last chapter set the seal on one of its worst problems: the lack of agenda. 

I love musical theatre. And one of its most beautiful sides is that it teaches you so much about storytelling. Now what makes a story, a character truly compelling? The conflict. Without a conflict, something that has to shift the narrative from A to D going through B and C, nothing makes sense. And in a good story, the conflict is set up right from the start. We meet someone and we are supposed to identify with them due to their agency. 

  Heroes With An Agenda 

To name an example, there is “Into the Woods”, one of my favorite musicals which retells some classic fairy tales with own interpretations and unexpected twists; and it opens with an iconic ensemble number called “I Wish”. (If you’re unfamiliar with it, you might want to check out the 2014 film.) We get to know a bunch of people who all want something, and we follow them through the narrative as some of them get their wish (though not exactly the way they expected it); then are confronted with the backlash, the consequences, the price to pay for the things they wanted. 

With Star Wars now belonging to Disney, it is only legitimate to make a few comparisons with Disney movies.

In The Little Mermaid, Ariel’s song is “Part of That World”, setting up her character as someone who wants for something that fascinates her: the world of humans.

Quasimodo, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, wants to leave his tower and live among other humans, even if only in for a day.

Belle from Beauty and the Beast is introduced to us explaining how she wishes to explore the world outside of the small village she’s living in.

A somewhat disappointing Disney heroine was Merida in Brave: despite the films’ title, the story fails at making its protagonist compelling due to her lack of agenda. Merida knows what she does not want, i.e. becoming like her mother, because she’s a different kind of girl: but she does not know what she actually wants from life. It is quite fitting that in the end she manages to restore and improve the relationship to her mother but does not really change her, or her family’s or her kingdom’s situation. Merida does not grow up. Her story is nice enough, but not really compelling.

Disney “princesses” are often criticized for wanting nothing but a partner from life, and sometimes settling down with a man even if that was not their main goal at the start. But we have e.g. Moana, a girl who wants to help her family and her people and to restore balance in nature. Not surprisingly, her story is interesting and convincing.

Antiheroes With An Agenda 

Perspective is hugely important for a narrative: authors can use it in order to manipulate the audience’s perception of a story in order to make us identify with someone although he is a negative character. Two examples I came across with lately are Joker (Arthur Fleck) and Hannah from the Girls TV series. Both these characters have personal agendas that in the end don’t get their fulfilment. 

We know from the beginning that Arthur will become the Joker, but the film follows him and his social background so closely that we watch everything from his point of view, which makes us sympathize with him despite what he becomes in the end. 

Arthur is poor, mentally ill, in charge of a sick mother, friendless; but he believes he can make a great breakthrough as a comedian. He is at the bottom of the social scale and still believes he can make it to the top; it is only all too clear that he is deluded and that none of the people he admires would move a finger to help him. Though he becomes a criminal, his story is a tragedy; he was born and raised under circumstances that hardly offered him room for a simple, satisfying life. His dreams were all he had. Which is why we feel with him, even if from a moral standpoint we know we shouldn’t. 

Hannah is a toxic personality if I ever saw one onscreen; but she officially is the protagonist, she’s female who wants a career, she has “friends”, she is “sexually independent”, so as female viewers we will automatically identify with her, or at least try. (Personally, after a while I came to the conclusion that about 75 % of the other character’s problems would quickly find an end if they simply shot Hannah and buried her without a funeral, with a few silver crosses to make sure she never comes back.) 

However, Hannah is not from a poor family, she has an education, she has friends. She has things she wants, nothing she desperately needs, like Arthur needs employment or medication. Her whole attitude is subject to her desire to become a famous writer, so her story is about exploring and observing other people’s weaknesses, often even eliciting them for the worse. I find it interesting that when we learn how she first met Adam, he caught her stealing. Apparently, Hannah never understood that you can’t simply take but also have to give something back. Their relationship is so typical for the story because it looks like Adam is using her (mostly sexually), while she is using him in order to make “experiences”, playing with his feelings instead of giving him the chance to grow and mature into a responsible man. Girls always had a bleak undertone; but by manipulating our perspective making her the pivotal character, the authors made us care about Hannah although she is someone who did not deserve it in the first place.

My guess: what makes these two antiheroes in the first place, from a moral perspective, is perhaps the fact that both feel entitled to their dream and won’t settle for less. Disney heroes usually get their wish fulfilment because they go through the moment of openly and innocently admitting their dreams without Arthur’s or Hannah’s latent arrogance.

Now to Star Wars... The Classics

One of the reasons why we so easily identify with Luke Skywalker in A New Hope is because he is introduced to us as someone who dreams. He has a personal wish - leaving his home planet, meeting new people, living adventures and contributing to the future of the galaxy. The “Binary Sunset” scene is not iconic without reason: in a musical, this would have been the moment where he would have broken into song. 😊

Don’t kill me, but Disney’s Hercules reminds me a little of Luke in his first grand scene: he also looks at a sunset, saying that he would go most anywhere to find where he belongs. (Maybe Lucas knew well why he sold the rights to Star Wars to the Disney studios of all places.)

This continues through his other two films: Luke always has a strong agenda. He learns the ways of the Jedi through Obi-Wan (who interestingly never actually questions whether he wants that at all) and Yoda, but his first priority always are his friends. Saving who he loves is what drives him on all of the time, even if this may seem foolish at times - like traveling all alone to Bespine where Han and Leia are kept hostage, or wanting to save his father although he is a dangerous criminal. 

  Star Wars In-Between

Rogue One and Solo are well-made, interesting films, too, because the protagonists know what they want. The Clone Wars is one long story explaining Ahsoka’s development from a Jedi to someone who relinquishes the Jedi’s ways. The Mandalorian wants to follow “The Way”, i.e. his code of honor, in order to help as many war foundlings as he can. This is what you need to do in order to make a story compelling. 

  Star Wars Prequels 

One of the weaknesses which I see to this day in the prequels is that we so rarely witness someone’s personal agenda; the stories are more driven by the plot than by the persons. A few desires are hinted at and never pursued. 

“I’m going to be the first to see all of them” (the stars). - Anakin in The Phantom Menace

“At last we will reveal ourselves to the Jedi. At last we will have revenge.” Darth Maul in The Phantom Menace 

What became of Anakin’s desire to explore the galaxy? And revenge from what, if you please? I can understand that the Sith were a byproduct of the Jedi’s rejection of the Dark Side, their weaknesses all projected unto them: but this also is never explored. 

What did Anakin, Padmé, Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon etc. want, after all? When did they ever say or show clearly what they wanted, and what they would do for the purpose? Qui-Gon wants to train Anakin by will of the Force, Obi-Wan wants to train him because Qui-Gon asked him to. The Jedi want to keep the status quo of the Republic and the Jedi Order. There is no actual heart-felt wish from their side. The only person relentlessly pursuing his aims is Palpatine, the mastermind behind the stage. 

Padmé has her political aims, but they are not a really personal agenda for her. She wants to help people who were enslaved or hungry or otherwise suffering, but she does not know such situations from own experience. Her personal wish is having a family, but in her case it is not as passionate as in Anakin’s, who had lost the only family he had with his mother. Add to this that the scene where she talks with Anakin about this desire of hers was unfortunately cut out from Attack of the Clones. 

The compassionate and protective Anakin wants to keep the ones he cares for safe. Interestingly though, the films rarely show us his perspective, we usually rather see other people reacting to him; and since the Jedi always brainwash him not to “let his personal feelings get in the way”, Anakin comes over more as a whiny brat than as a conflicted human being we can sympathize with.

Revenge of the Sith is, though a terrible story, a very well-made film and emotionally very demanding because Anakin finally takes his destiny into his own hands. But it is also not very satisfying, because he wants to prevent things from happening and doesn’t actually have a definite, positive aim in mind. Still when he speaks to Padmé on Mustafar he tells her that he would overthrow Palpatine for her and rule the galaxy according to their wishes; but even in this moment he sounds insecure and confused, and his ideas are everything but clear. 

  The Sequels

The same procedure all over again. Finn wants to get away from the First Order, but where does he want to go? It is only hinted at that he wants a girlfriend (“Do you have a boyfriend?”), and not thematized again. Poe already is a Resistance fighter from the start, no personal aim there either. Rey wants her family back: she does nothing but waiting. On Takodana, we literally see her running from her fate after her vision with the Skywalker legacy sabre. In The Last Jedi, she says she needs someone to show her her place. She says to Luke that she is afraid. Again, she has no agenda.

Kylo was pursuing Luke, but why? What exactly had happened between uncle and nephew before the fatal night at the Temple, why was Kylo’s resentment so deep? He killed his father because he was coerced; he did not actually want it. Later he wanted Rey, but why, if she was almost always aggressive towards him? 

The Last Jedi finally seemed to make up for all of these lacks. Rose was such a powerful character because while she always did everything in her power for the cause, she never forgot or let go of her personal feelings and desires, like keeping Finn safe, inspiring hope in the Canto Bight children, freeing the fathiers. 

The moment Rey ships herself on the Supremacy, Ben kills Snoke and then both team up against the Praetorian Guards is so powerful because both of them, at last, have an agenda, and they pursue it together. It’s a moment of relief for the audience, what we had been waiting for all along: finding out what all of this was about - the Force working in balance. Naively, many of us then assumed this trilogy would be about Ben and Rey finding balance and a happy ending together.

Then The Rise of Skywalker made our frustration flare up again. Rey wants to become a Jedi because Leia expects her to; she kills Palpatine because he wants her to do it; the voices of all Jedi encourage her… great. No personal agenda all over again. Ben saves her from death because he loves her, very well. Then he dies. Han, Leia and Luke all wanted him to come “home”, i.e. back to the Light Side, and they died for the purpose. It seems wanting something is dangerous in itself in this galaxy. And Rey ends up alone on Tatooine. Again, what does she want there?

So It Was All... Fate?

Han, Leia and Luke were much more compelling characters than Rey - their aims were sometimes misguided, but at least they had them and they were clearly defined. Even Palpatine has an aim: it is veiled (typically for him), but it is there. He knows that his spirit will live on in the person who manages to kill him. So, he is still more powerful than Rey. It looks like Rey defeated him, but the truth is that he used her naïve faith that she could erase him by killing him in order to reach his own aim: living on in a younger, more innocent person who believes that being a “Jedi”, she is doing the right thing. 

We may of course argue that the Force is behind all of this; but as intriguing as the Force is, it is not a person. When we follow a story, we want living persons to think and feel and suffer and be hopeful and joyful for. It is all very well if characters want different things or maybe want the wrong things; but at least, their wishes ought to be understandable, and if they don’t come true, we would like to know why, instead of being left with... “reasons”. It is hard to identify with a character if we never learn what drives them after all. I daresay it would be more satisfying to see them pursue an aim and fail, than never to understand what they’re about, what their heart’s wish is. 

I have argued over and over that the ways of the Jedi, i.e. sacrificing everything to a cause, and individual aims are naturally opposite to one another. If there will ever be Balance, future Force-sensitive creatures must find a way in between. But again, this is not openly said and the audience has to either resign to the fact that the films are badly made, or to scavenge them for months searching for messages. Of course, there is nothing wrong with using ones’ own brains. But I would like to leave a cinema after a Star Wars film feeling satisfied. The Rise of Skywalker did not only leave many questions unanswered; in many instances, it did not even start posing the questions.

“Into the Woods” is not a story with a happy ending. One of its messages is that you need to be careful about what you wish for, but I think that’s all right if the moral implications of getting one’s wish are explored. Which with the Star Wars prequels and sequels was not the case - people suffer and die for decades, and in the end, the story goes nowhere. The events of the prequels took place because “they were meant to”; same with the sequels. Anakin turned evil because it was his fate, his grandson the same because it was fate, Rey took over the Jedi mantle although she is not in the least suited for it, but it was her fate so we have to accept it. No wonder everyone is disappointed. 

Star Wars saga, what do you have in store next? After more than 30 years, I dearly hope, someone who actually has an aim and purses it this time. And doesn’t have to die in the process, thank you very much.

[little-bard]

The one where Jaskier is cursed and becomes a women

I haven’t written fan fiction in a long time this is my warm up bear with me. This may get kinda NSFW but I’ll try to keep it tame. 

Jaskier hadn’t seen the Witcher in some time, maybe 6 months. Last time he did he was basically told he was the worst thing to ever happened to Geralt and he caused all the problems they came across. He wouldn’t have agreed to that statement a month ago, but now he was possibly considering it to be true.

•••

While traveling on his own he had drunkenly flirted a little too hard with a sorceress. He wouldn’t have approached her and accidentally grazed her bottom with his hands had he known and had he not been drunk. She played into his act all to get him alone and curse him with having to feel what women experience every day from drunk men. Or what they just experienced every day of their lives.

When he awoke the next day not remembering what had happened he felt strange. He slowly rose from the bed he looked down at a body that was not his. Very obviously not his. It was the body of a voluptuous woman. He quickly hurried over to the mirror in the room he was staying in. He stared at himself. He didn’t see his normal self in the mirror instead he saw a woman barely covered by the shirt he had on last night. It was a curvy woman with a large chest, wide hips, plush thighs and ass. She was shorter then he was. He would have thought it was a whole different person had she not had the same cornflower blue eyes he did and the same chestnut brown hair only longer. He touched his face and his body. His hands were smaller and more feminine but still had a small callous from playing his lute. He pinched himself, as this must be a dream. It had to be no way this was real.

“Ow... fuck.” He exclaimed with a sigh in a softer more feminine but equally as beautiful voice to his own. Suddenly what had happened the night before came back to him. He silently cursed himself for being a horny idiot. After an hour he had calmed his nerves and sorted himself out. And went on the hunt for some new clothes as his old ones wouldn’t fit this new body too well.

•••

That was a month ago and Jaskier had spent his time searching for a way to break his curse. He had figured out the simple tasks of being a woman. He did enjoy the dress he has bought himself and styling his hair and making himself as beautiful as he could. It was an art form the women he loves did that he found amazing and now he enjoyed doing. But he has also figured out some of the bad things of being a woman some he felt he had added to as a man. He learned within a week he couldn’t travel alone and as he had to travel to maybe find a way to break this curse and get his regular body back, he found a nice group of musicians to travel with. They were all men but only tried to flirt and hit on him when drunk. When they played shows Jaskier always noticed even tho his new lovely sirens voice brought in crowds and certainly his beautiful face brought in men he always got paid less out of the group of them. He also noticed that men thought it was okay to touch him or grope him during songs. He had dealt with that before but not to this extent. He learned to fend for himself and get them to leave him alone but it didn’t help his fear that he had to pull a knife on men who couldn’t take no for an answer.

He was often asked if he was a whore for a few coins which he found offensive yet not. The women who were prostitutes he met in this month were the nicest and always willing to help him fix his hair or dress or tell him which men to stay away from. So he didn’t mind being lumped in with them but he also didn’t want to sell himself for money. That was the one thing Jaskier hadn’t done in this body, let anyone touch him intimately. He had, of course, touched himself but always to the same dream, one of Geralt. But that wasn’t new, he had been having that dream since he first met the Witcher. Jaskier had been with men and women as a man before but once he laid eyes on Geralt he found every other partner he was with lackluster. He realized early on that he loved Geralt and only wanted the Witcher’s strong arms to be the ones to hold him. But he knew Geralt would never love him back so he filled his time with random lover one after another.

•••

Today Jaskier thought he had finally found a sorcerer to help him break his curse, but turned out to be just a man lying to get him alone. Jaskier left that situation bruised and the man left castrated. He walked into the pub where he and his travel companions were singing tonight with a saddened expression. He walked over to them and picked up his lute.

“Smile. We won’t get any money if you don’t smile girly” said the eldest man of their troop. Jaskier put on his best fake smile and nodded. The man then turned to the crowd and said “I heard the white wolf was here tonight! So we thought we would sing the song of his adventure by the bard Jaskier”

Jaskier’s head snapped up from his lute and looked around the pub. Suddenly his eyes saw him. They connected with yellow cat eyes in the corner. He’d know those eyes and that silver-white hair anywhere. Geralt. Geralt was really there. He had wanted to see Geralt for months but.. not like this. He was still in the wrong body. There’s no way his Witcher would recognize him.

Jaskier played and sang with his companions. The whole time his eyes catching with Geralt's more then he would have wanted but he couldn’t stop staring. Had the Witcher gotten hotter? Once they had played a few songs Jaskier got a drink and sat across from Geralt. “Hello.” He spoke softly. He had now gotten used to his female voice so it didn’t phase him as much to speak or sing anymore.

“Hello.” Geralt spoke. Geralt's voice was still the same. As deep and as lovely as ever. It sends shivers down Jaskier's spine and did something weird to his heart and body. Geralt was giving him the same eyes Jaskier had seen him give many women on their adventures. The ‘things I would do to you’ eyes. Jaskier had always longed for those eyes to be on him but now that they were but in this situation Jaskier felt dirty and angry. Why couldn’t Geralt have looked at him like this when he was a man?

“Geralt of Rivera... would you mind accompanying me to my room?” Jaskier asked in his softest most lovely voice.

“Hmm.” Geralt responded and Jaskier knew what he meant because they had spent so much time together. ‘Go and I’ll follow’

Jaskier chugged his drink and stood up heading for the room the pub owner rented him. He could feel Geralt’s presence behind him. He opened his door slowly and stepped in. Geralt walked in and placed his bag down. Jaskier found himself sitting on the edge of his bed not knowing what to say. He had gone mute. A rare thing for the bard. He didn’t want anything to happen but there Geralt was in his room, pining for him, his dream. Geralt kneeled in front of him and lifted his skirt with his hand slowly to trace his thigh.

“Hmm.” Geralt basically purred. Jaskier stared at witcher. At his witcher. Geralt looked up and paused his action for a moment staring into Jaskier’s eyes. He shook his head slowly after a few moments. “Sorry, you just reminded me of a past friend.” He continued to rub Jaskiers thigh and slowly went in to kiss it. Before he could Jaskier’s head cleared and he spoke.

“Geralt it’s because I am your friend. I’m Jaskier.” He spoke softly and held Geralt's hand still and moved it off his thigh.

“What? No stop lying wench.” Geralt stood up disgusted almost.

“GERALT LOOK AT ME! LOOK INTO MY EYES! A curse may change my body but it doesn’t change who I am! I know you can see it Geralt! I know you can if you just look.” Jaskier pleaded. He needed Geralt he needed him to notice him and help him and hold him. He needed to have someone know the truth.

Geralt paused for a moment. He stared deep into Jaskier’s eyes. It could have been for a moment or maybe it was for 5 whole minutes neither one of them could tell. But the Geralt spoke.

“Fuck,” he said softly. “That was the curse I could feel on you. I assumed it was a small one or something.”

Jaskier’s eyes filled with tears. He couldn’t tell if they were from relief or happiness or something else entirely. “Geralt I’m so sorry. You were right I am the worst thing that ever happened to you.” He sobbed.

“No Jaskier, I was extremely wrong. You’re one of the best things that happened to me. I was stupid to say those things to you. I was upset about something else and you were there so I took it out on you. I was wrong.” Geralt said the most he has said all night as he took Jaskier into his arms. He had been wanting to say this to the bard but didn’t know if he would find him so soon. Jaskier held onto Geralt as he sobbed. 

Geralt slowly moved them up the bed and laid them down. He held Jaskier and let him cry. He had no idea what Jaskier had been through but he knew it couldn’t have been easy. And to be honest the Witcher felt more at home with Jaskier then he had the whole 6 months he had been alone. Jaskier quickly fell asleep after he stopped crying, tears still staining his cheeks. 

Geralt slowly moved out of the bed. He grabbed a blanket and placed it over Jaskier. He looked down at the person before him. He knew there was a reason he followed this maiden after not entering a single person’s bed for 6 months. He convinced himself it was just guilt over being so mean to Jaskier that slowed his libido or how the road had made him start to smell worse then roach. But staring at Jaskier it all finally clicked. He hadn’t wanted anyone else because he missed the bard, his bard. Jaskier had always had Geralt’s heart, the witcher was just too ashamed to admit it even to himself. He loved it when Jaskier sang. He loved that Jaskier understood everything he said even when he didn’t actually say it. He loved Jaskier’s beautiful blue eyes he could almost drown in. He got jealous when Jaskier’s attention was on anyone else. He loved how Jaskier’s arms felt around him when they rode roach together. He loved Jaskier.

Geralt leaned down and softly kissed the tear marks on Jaskier’s cheeks. He laid back down in the bed next to Jaskier holding the bard once more. He fell asleep smelling Jaskiers hair.

•••

The next morning Jaskier awoke first. He watched Geralt sleep, something he had done many times before, but never from this close. Geralt was as marvelous asleep as he was awake but somehow him looking so peaceful brought a big smile to Jaskier’s lips. Jaskier quickly closed his eyes and pretended to still be asleep as he noticed Geralt starting to wake up, hoping he was fast enough for Geralt not to notice his staring. 

Geralt did notice but chose not to say anything. He stood up and stretched. “Jaskier it’s time to wake up” He smiled looking at the bard obviously faking sleep.

“Oh wow, good morning Geralt how long have you been awake?” Jaskier ‘yawned’ and asked as innocently as he could.

“Long enough,” Geralt said simply. He grabbed his bag and looked over at the bard. “We’ll head out tonight after I kill a monster and get some coin. I’m assuming that gives you enough time to say goodbye to your traveling buddies?” 

Jaskier climbed out of bed and nodded. “Yeah, I’ll tell them and do one last grand performance tonight. Will I see you there witcher?” He put his hair up in a quick bun and looked at himself in the mirror trying to make himself presentable and have his face clean of drool. 

It was weird seeing Jaskier as a woman, but Geralt was already strangely use to it. Jaskier looked marvelous as a man or a woman, he still looked like Jaskier to Geralt. The more he looked at the women before him the more he saw it. “Hmm. I’ll kill the monster as fast as I can just so I can come watch. We’ll leave after.” Geralt said as he put on his shoes and smiled at the back of the bard. 

Jaskier turned around and smiled kindly at Geralt. The very same smile he always had. “I wish you luck good witcher.”

Geralt stood up and walked towards the door. “Alright, I’m off my fair lady” He chuckled a little bit. Jaskier threw a pillow at the closing door with some grumbling about “I’m as much of a lady as you are a gentleman”  Geralt couldn’t help but smile. It felt good to have Jaskier close again.

•••

Geralt walked into the pub as the performance was going on, but it had just started. Jaskier was in rare form tonight, he was bright and glowing. He had a few men try to touch him inappropriately as he preformed but he always slapped their hands and gave them a glare. Geralt was proud of how he handled himself. But he stepped close to the one he thought might take it too far and stood against the wall near him. Just in case. The performance ended and Geralt clapped along with everyone else. Jaskier gave Geralt of his beautiful smiles as he bowed. 

A little while after Jaskier met Geralt outside where Roach was waiting. “I’m almost ready. Just one of the boys was borrowing my lute. I’m gonna go get it and then we can leave.” He placed his hand on the witcher's arm before walking off quickly. The faster this was over the faster he could leave with Geralt and the faster they could break the curse.

Jaskier saw Thomas a member of his traveling troop outside on the side of the pub. “Hey bud, can I have my lute? I gotta go.” He smiled at the man. 

sexual assault warning 

It was dark and as Jaskier stepped closer to him he felt in danger. But not soon enough because Thomas grabbed him. He tried to scream but quickly found a hand over his mouth. “Shhh. I know you’re leaving with that Witcher we wouldn’t want him to hear you.” The man whispered is Jaskier’s ear. Jaskier’s eyes widened in panic. The one time he let his guard down and this happens.”No Jas, you're a lovely lady I’m sure you know what I want. Just give me the same service you did the witcher last night before we have to say goodbye.” He added in a voice Jaskier now found disgusting. 

Jaskier found against the man’s grasp. He started to fondle and grope Jaskier with his free hand all still holding him pinned against the wall so Jaskier couldn’t move.

It's over 

“I heard a scream are you alright Jaskier!” called out a familiar gruff voice. Geralt walked around the corner and once he saw the action in front of him, he was filled with rage. He grabbed the man and tore him off Jaskier. He then threw him to the ground and started beating him ruthlessly. 

It took Jaskier’s brain a moment to un fuzz as he stood there crying silently. Once it had he knew he had to get Geralt off the bloody man. “Geralt! Stop it! He’s had enough, I’m fine.” 

Geralt punched the man one more time before standing up. “If I ever see your face again, I won’t hesitate to kill you.” He snarled as the man stood and ran away. Jaskier hugged Geralt and held him tightly.

“Thank you. I let my guard down I’m so sorry” He cried softly into Geralt’s chest. Geralt held Jaskier equally as tightly. 

“Jaskier, you have no reason to be sorry. He should be sorry for doing what he did. I promise to never let anyone hurt you again. You’re my bard, no one shall lay an ill-intentioned hand on you again.” He spoke softly. Sweetly. He cupped Jaskier’s cheek in his hand and looked down at him. 

Jaskier stared up at Geralt and sniffled softly. He had stopped crying while hearing Geralt's words. They looked into each other's eyes and slowly their faces neared. They kissed softly and slowly. It was full of love and passion. 

Jaskier’s mind cleared and he pushed Geralt away after a good minute of kissing. Geralt looked at him confused.

“Don’t do anything you wouldn’t do to me as a man Geralt. I love you. I have loved you. I can’t have you treat me this way as women and never again after we break this curse. My heart can't handle having you close and then never having that again. I’m very much a man. I like to think a very strong man, but when it comes to you Geralt. I’m weak.” 

Geralt pulled Jaskier close again and gave him another kiss. “Jaskier, I love you too. I think I even prefer you as a man because then you're you. The Jaskier I fell in love with.” 

The biggest smile reached Jaskier’s lips. It was the most beautiful thing Geralt had ever seen. “Okay, lets head out I’m sure roach had missed me.” 

••• 

Since Jaskier hadn’t actually received his lute back that night Geralt had spent his saved-up coin on a surprise for the bard. He arrived back to the inn where Jaskier and Roach were waiting for him outside. 

“Kill the monster?” Jaskier called out when he saw a familiar shape with white hair approaching. He had bathed while Geralt was away and had his hair in 2 long braids. He was outside braiding Roach’s mane waiting for his handsome Witcher to come back. 

“Don’t I always?” Geralt chuckled. “What are you doing to roach?” He cocked his head to the side as he walked closer. 

“She wanted to be beautiful for your return. Besides, I have to use my new-found knowledge and she's a perfect model” Jaskier smiled brightly. Geralt was half surprised Jaskier hadn’t tried to put flowers in the horse's hair.

“Hmm” was all Geralt responded with and held Jaskier in his arms. 

“I love you too” Jaskier responded knowing what Geralt meant, like always. He gave Geralt a small kiss. That's all they had been doing. Jaskier didn’t want to go too far until he was himself again. He needed to know Geralt loved him that way for himself even if Geralt had said it a million times throughout the week they had been traveling. “Come up, I have a bath half started for you.” Jaskier smiled and lead Geralt to their room. 

Once in their room, Geralt started stripping off his clothes as Jaskier finished preparing the bath. He tried to make his staring at the scar covered muscular body not obvious. The Witcher noticed but once again said nothing. 

Geralt climbed in and let his body relax into the water. Jaskier was still putting salts to make Geralt smell nice. He then sat behind Geralt's head on the floor next to the tub. He began to wet Geralt's hair and wash it for him. “Hmm,” Geralt said softly and happily, like a cat’s purr. 

Jaskier smiled and started to sing songs softly to Geralt as he helped him bathe. 

Once Geralt was done bathing he sat on the bed with Jaskier. Jaskier had started a habit of always brushing Geralt’s hair every night. He put two small braids in Geralt's hair near the front on each side. “There, perfect.” He smiled at Geralt and his work.

They laid down in the bed holding each other and sharing soft kisses. “It's so hard for me to hold back... I’m sorry” Geralt spoke after one of their kisses got a bit heated and Geralt’s hands on Jaskier’s ass became too much for the bard so he pulled away. 

“I know me too,” Jaskier responded with a small blush on his cheeks. “Let’s just get some rest. We’ll break the curse soon.” He sighed.

•••

Jaskier was right. The next week they finally stumbled on a town with a mage who knew how to help. 

“So he said I drink this and I say these words, and if I truly know what women suffer with in life the curse will be broken?” Jaskier said staring at the bottle and piece of paper in front of him. 

“You also have to be looking at your reflection... naked.” Geralt added. He was sitting on the edge of the bed across from where Jaskier was standing. Jaskier had spent his last bit of coin on this room once Geralt had told him he found a cure. He was too excited not to. 

“Oh okay. I guess I’ll do it now...” Jaskier said with a shaky voice. He had been waiting for his moment for a month and a half and yet he was scared. 

“It’s okay to be nervous Jaskier, but I promise nothing bad will happen to you while I’m around.” Geralt gave his lover a kind smile. 

“Okay. I can do this.” Jaskier said more determined now. He trusted Geralt. He stripped down and could feel the witcher’s gaze on him but ignored it. He took one last look at his woman's body in the mirror. “I’m gonna miss braiding my hair.” He said softly.

“You can always braid mine or roaches. Or grow yours out. I bet that would look cute on you.” Geralt said reassuringly.

“Okay, here it goes,” Jaskier said before drinking the liquid in the bottle. “a'baeth aen beanna” (a kiss from a woman in elder roughly) 

It took a moment but Jaskier felt something pain inside him and closed his eyes. When he opened his eyes he saw his body. His actual man's body. He stared at himself in disbelief. It was the same as it was before this all happened. Well, it had changed a little, or at least he thought it had. He stared at his ass and thighs and thought they had grown the slightest bit plusher. As he stared at his naked body in the mirror he finally noticed the witcher in the corner of the mirror watching him. He grabbed the blanket that was on the chair next to the mirror and covered himself and turned around. “Hi Geralt,” He said in his regular beautiful yet still manly voice.

“Oh, how I’ve missed your voice.” Geralt stood up and walked over to the bard. He pulled Jaskier into a hug. “I’ve missed this you so much.”

“You do realize we forgot to get clothes that would fit me now right? I sold off all my old ones.” Jaskier said with a laugh and hugged Geralt back.

“I don’t clothes are going to be important now. I’ve been holding back for 2 weeks. I finally don’t have to.” Geralt smirked and leaned in to kiss Jaskier deeply and passionately. He lifted the bard up and wrapped Jaskier’s legs around his waist. He laid him down on the bed.

“I guess you’re right” Jaskier blushed when their lips finally parted. “I love you Geralt. My handsome heroic Witcher.” 

“I love you Jaskier. My handsome talented bard.” Geralt replied before kissing Jaskier again.

••• 

For the next 2 days, they didn’t leave their room at the inn. They lived out Jaskier’s every fantasy and more. He felt as if he could write a thousand songs about what he and witcher did and how the white wolf made his heart feel. Actually, he probably will. Jaskier stayed in their room in one of Geralt’s shirts as he waited for the witcher to arrive with clothes that would fit his, much smaller than the buff man’s, frame. He looked at all the marks Geralt had left on his skin and smiled. 

Geralt returned a few hours later and handed Jaskier new clothes. “I hope you like them.” He smiled “Though I do quite love how you look in my shirt and nothing else.” 

Jaskier blushed and changed. “Don’t worry witcher you’ll see in me in much less a lot more” He winked. 

“Hmm,” Geralt responded with a small smile and hed Jaskier from behind and kissed his neck.

“I love you,” Jaskier said simply.

“I love you too.” Geralt responded with the 4 words Jaskier could never get enough of.

Okay, Thats the End! I hope you liked it. I haven’t written in awhile but this made me so happy to do. I feel like the whole trapped in female body might be from what I’ve been feeling lately. Sorry if you didn’t like it

[corinthbayrpg]

NAME. Rafael Yilmaz AGE & BIRTH DATE. 118 & October 9th, 1902 GENDER & PRONOUNS. Male & He/Him SPECIES. Werewolf OCCUPATION. Owner of Meat I Live For FACE CLAIM. Berk Cankat

BIOGRAPHY

( tw: serial killer, war, death ) Rafael Yilmaz was born on a stormy October night in the year 1902 in a rundown house in Ankara, Turkey. He was the second son to parents who didn’t have much but each other, and were constantly moving from one place to the next. Rafael’s father came from a long line of werewolves, and his last pack had been slaughtered by hunters. He ended up being the only one to survive. Ever since he had been on the move; not because he actually had any real reason to believe that the hunter was still after him, but because paranoia had gotten the better of him. He saw threats behind every corner, and thought it was best for them to constantly move from one place to the next. The family had four children in the end, after Rafael two daughters were born. All four children were equipped with the werewolf gene and handled it very differently. Rafael’s older brother was controlled and disciplined. His sisters both hated the gene and called it a curse, while Rafael simply had fun with it. As a teenager he had trouble staying in control, but he learned quickly how to shift at his own will. That is, as long as he’s in a good mood. Bad moods or anger can quickly take away any control he has on his shifting.

The family moved every few years thanks to their father’s paranoia, making it hard for the four Yilmaz children to really make friends outside of each other. Eventually, when Rafael was twelve, he even decided Turkey wasn’t save enough anymore and smuggled them out to Europe. It didn’t help that here they were outsiders at all times; speaking a different language, looking differently. Outside of Turkey, everyone looked at them as if they knew they had monsters brewing underneath their skin. They were usually crammed into tiny apartments or houses, four werewolves with big tempers suffering from puberty. But their father always had a good hold on them and taught them how to control their senses and urges. At least he did until he was gone. The family happened to be in Austria when the first world war arose. Their father was called into battle, and only a few days later they got the news that he had died in combat. None of the children understood how their father could have died in a normal human battle, but they never got a body to confirm what had killed him in the end. Especially Rafael’s older brother always suspected another hunter to have gotten to their father, but Rafael himself tried not to think too much about the reasons. It was bad enough that their father was gone, and he had never been someone for conspiracy theories.

Their very human mother was horribly overwhelmed with the task of four children, no idea where to go next, and hardly any money. Rafael’s older brother tried to help her as best as he could, but especially Rafael made their life a living hell. His brother dragged him along wherever he went as to have an eye on Rafael, but he still managed to do stupid things left and right. His big brother was the reason they both ended up joining the military shortly before the second world war begun. At the time they lived in Britain, and his brother’s promise that they were the best fighters anyone could find was the only reason they were allowed to proof themselves. And they were good. Rafael didn’t like the fighting, but even he couldn’t deny that they were some of the best fighters around. Soon they were known along their comrades as an unbeatable duo. Anyone was happy to welcome them into their unit, thinking they would protect them and turn everything around for them.

But Rafael’s brother should soon follow their father’s demise. Late at night, with rain pouring from the air, bullets rained down on them that weren’t normal bullets. Rafael understood too late that they were made of silver, and he watched his brother die in his own arms, pierced with one too many bullets to recover from it. He was dragged away from his brother’s body with bloody hands and screaming so loudly the enemy could hear him behind their lines. Afterwards, Rafael changed. He still didn’t like fighting, but he was more furious with it, as if trying to get revenge on his brother. He had more trouble staying in control of his shifting too, and barely managed to get to the end of the war without anyone noticing. When the end of the war was announced, everyone around him celebrated, but Rafael couldn’t. He didn’t go home either, unable to face their mother and explain to her that he hadn’t been able to save his brother. Instead, he followed in his father’s footsteps, becoming a lone wolf that traveled the world – not necessarily out of paranoia, but because he was followed by guilt.

He kept in touch with his mother and sisters throughout letters, and learned that she had settled down in Greece shortly after the war ended. There she met a man who was known for running one of the best Gyros’ places in town. It was a dream come true for his mother, who had always loved cooking, and quickly became one of the main reasons the restaurant was so successful. Reading her letters made him happy, and he knew it would only stay that way for her if he didn’t pull her back into his trouble. So he stayed as far away from his mother as he could, and tried to find love elsewhere instead. He was still good at worming himself into other people’s hearts. He switched his lovers as often as he switched his home. He wasn’t particularly picky either. In a time when it wasn’t anywhere near normal, he still didn’t care about the gender of his partners, or whether they were werewolf, witch, human or whatever else walked the earth. He was always protective of them, and he fell in love often and hard, but never managed to stick with it when he moved on to another place. It was how he got himself a job though.

The bitter truth was, Rafael had always adored music. His father taught him how to play the guitar when he was eleven, and regretted it later on. It was a passion no one expected Rafael to hold. He wouldn’t talk about anything but the fact that he wanted to be a musician one day. His father told him his ideas were awful, and that music could never be a real job. He was turned down again and again by his father, but the idea of making music for people’s pleasure had always lingered at the back of his mind. He still played, holding the guitar of his father dear to his heart, and even sometimes played small acts to earn some money. But he knew he’d feel even more guilty if he pursued a ridiculous music career when his father wanted something else for him. And so when he ended up in bed with the chief of police of Brussels in 1959, he scored himself a job at the local police. No one expected much from him, but Rafael quickly showed that he was useful. He was one of the first people to have an idea who Le tueur fou (the “Crazy Killer”) might be, a serial killer who killed several people in Belgium from 1954 to 1981. But he couldn’t stay until the killer was caught. Both his itch to move on, and his slowed aging process meant that he couldn’t stay long anywhere. Rafael used his stance in critical crime cases as recommendations to get himself from one police station to the next across Europe. Never the one to catch the killer, but always the one who almost caught them.

It nagged at his ego that throughout the years, he was never rewarded for actually catching a killer, forgotten behind the scenes because of who he was. Because throughout the years, he investigated several of the worst crimes humanity had seen. After leaving Belgium, he moved to Italy and investigated the Monster of Florence there. He was also part of the investigation of the Beast of Harkstede, a murderer of five women in the Netherlands, and of the Beast of Bastille when he lived in France in the 90s. With each case he got more restless, and no lover or hobby could change that for him. He was known to be charming, flirtatious, and a good cop – but also as moody and impatient, and simply never the one. He struggled a lot with his shifting during the times when he was the most frustrated, and it ended in some less pleasant shifting situations.

In the end, Rafael ended up in Greece not out of free will. He had been trying very hard to stay away from it after his mother settled down there. But one night he was woken by his phone ringing, and his youngest sister telling him that their sister had been killed by another hunter. She had moved to Corinth Bay with her husband, also a werewolf, after their mother had died of old age. They had taken over her house and over the gyros restaurant she and her husband owned, making the town their new home. Rafael had never visited them or seen their restaurant other than on photos, and he also never met the two children they had. One year ago then, the pair had been killed by a hunter, though their children were left unharmed. And for some reason Rafael could not understand, she had chosen him in a will she created thirty years ago as the one to take over what she left behind should she ever die. Rafael hadn’t even known his sister had a will, and hardly understood why she wouldn’t have changed said will when she had children. His youngest sister liked to say she had seen something more in him, but Rafael didn’t trust that idea. Still, he followed her wish, because it would have felt like betrayal not to do what she wanted him to.

He left behind his life at the time and moved to Corinth Bay over night. Suddenly, he was faced with a very different life than he ever had. Here he was, in a house that was big enough for a proper family, and he was suddenly stepping into the footprints of two parents who had been made for the job, while he had never even considered the idea of being a parent one day. He’s struggling to figure out how to handle two teenagers who are surely trying to get him killed. His seventeen year old niece has an awful music taste (in his opinion), drives her scooter too fast and in general likes to get herself into too much danger. His sixteen year old nephew on the other hand is strongly struggling with his werewolf genes, his sexuality, and how to get popular in school. It’s a world Rafael can’t understand, as he never lived such a mundane life. He wanted to get himself into the police office once more, but didn’t do it in favor of taking over his sister’s gyros restaurant. The truth is, he eats more at “Meat I live for” than he actually helps out, but when he has good days he loves it. On most days, however, he misses being a cop and investigating bad guys a lot. In his free time he sometimes tries to solve the murder of his sister and her husband, but he hasn’t really gotten anywhere, as he is already too busy with his normal life. And with everything that has started happening in Corinth Bay lately, Rafael is even more frustrated and wary – worried for the children he’s looking after, and worried about himself. And wondering why on earth his sister would pick a place crawling with supernatural creatures to settle down.

PERSONALITY

+ adventurous, freethinking, intuitive - obsessive, strong-willed, thoughtless

PLAYED BY LISA. GMT+1. She/Her.

[lottabank]

name: evelyn charlotte banks nicknames: charlotte , lottie , lott , char , charlie , charmander , etc. but she no longer goes by evelyn in this lifetime age: twenty three physically , sixty seven biologically sexuality: panromantic / sexual pronouns: she / her , cisfemale  species: vampire sign: gemini spotify: here pinterest: here

hello moon beams and star shines , this is late but i’ve just been busy with work ! i’ve got the time to try and finish stuff now , so i’m gonna work on trying to do my daughter’s intro. if you’d like to plot feel free to hmu via tumblr im or ask for my discord bc i’ll gladly give it. i also play rune ( shadow graced human ) so yeah it’s snottie back at it again , anything you want to know about me or lottie alike hmu or just read below to find out more about my sweet serial killer vamp princess

── the high council is prepared to hear the story of EVELYN CHARLOTTE ‘ LOTTIE ‘ BANKS , a VAMPIRE while noted as a WANDERER. we might of mistaken them as MADELAINE PETSCH. appearances may be deceiving, with immortality being so common among supernaturals. this being has walked the earth for NINETY years, and their face reflects an age of TWENTY THREE they’re a CITIZEN of estonia and will be residing in TALLIN.

during their stay of the harvest they shall work by day as a STRIPPER to blend in with the mortal crowd. however, at night you might find them as AN ESCORT / ASSASSIN. they’re UNHAPPY about the harvest, however, they plan to please the high council.

PERSONALITY.

vampire beauty queen , primadonna , self-proclaimed princess. this darling girl has always loved attention , luxury , all things beautiful and transitioning to the darkness only heightened that love. so much so that she will do just about anything to satisfy her own wants or needs. lottie is ruthless , verging on sociopathic. she is delicate , but she is dangerous. she is by no means unfeeling though , nor incapable of love. she can be sweet , she can be soft , she can be pink cheeks and bright smiles just as she can be bloody lips and deranged laughter. she is genuinely kind , loving and gentle unless your death would make her happier than your being alive.  

ruling planet: mercury — the planet of communication body parts: shoulders , arms , hands element: air good day: fascinating , original , resourceful , charming , wise , adventurous bad day: restless , distracted , two-faced , judgmental , depressed , overwhelmed favorite things: cell phones , fast cars , trendy clothes , obscure music , guitars , books , clubbing least favorite things: small-minded people , dress codes , authority figures , silence , routines secret wish: to have all the answers how to spot her: mischievous twinkle in her eyes,  humming , talking with her hands where you’ll find her: taking pictures , behind the bar , in a chat room , playing devil’s advocate keywords: communication , collaboration , synergy , cleverness , wittiness , inventiveness ,  ingenuity

charlotte’s energy circulates in a quick and frenetic way , witty wordplay and dynamic dialogue are her forte. she is great for brainstorming and socializing , but craves “ twin flame ” and kindred spirit energy and is always up for an intellectual meeting of the minds. 

under the influence she can find herself with the gift of gab , talking and conversing with others for hours hopping from pop culture trends to deep political topics. beware of when she becomes a “ gossip girl , ” as she can crank up the rumor mill. as renowned dr. bernie siegel says , “ we have the ability to cure with either ‘ words ’ or kill with ‘ swords. ' ” 

the essence of charlie’s energy is fascinating , original , resourceful , charming , wise , and adventurous. some negative manifestations can devolve into more restless , distracted , two-faced , judgmental , depressed , and overwhelmed energy. 

lottie has a tendency to ride the roller coaster of life , spiraling skywards one minute and plunging into lows the next. if you can keep up with her vibes though , you’ll have one hell of a thrill !

charlotte exhibits great creative synergy , instantly connecting people to each other. always inclined to spend time with friends and focused on changing the world one idea at a time.

a little bit older and wiser , more flexible and comfortable with change than others. she can “ chameleon ” herself to fit into a variety of situations. 

can come across as clever and quick-witted , eager to dish out the juiciest pieces of news and happenings to their friends via text message and social media. in case that’s not enough , she’ll probably send you a snapchat story for good measure.

lottie loves fast cars , trendy clothes and any wacky gadgets or games they can tinker around with. part of the fun ( and curse ) of this fiery red head is that you’re never quite sure which personality you’re going to experience. will it be the vivacious , pun-dishing jokester or the snarky , mean-spirited critic ? if you’re willing to see fifty shades of crazy , she’ll color your life in thrilling ways !

BACKGROUND.

evelyn charlotte banks was born june fourth , 1930 and was given the dark gift in the early fifties ( so you’ll definitely notice some call backs to that time period ). she has grown and developed and adapted throughout time better than most , but you can take the sock hop away from the girl but not out of her. she remembers her life before , but doesn’t dwell on nor even really miss it.

she grew up in your rather classic straight lace upper middle class suburban family and community with her perfect nuclear family. the town they lived in was small , close knit , and everyone knew everyone but especially who evelyn’s family was. 

she was in a lot of pageants growing up and was even platinum blonde for most of her human life , because she was so afraid her red hair would keep her from being successful.

when she was eighteen years old with big shiny dreams of silver screens , luxury , and eyes all on her was all she could think of. she left her family and their small generational hometown in georgia for bigger , better things in none other than hollywood. 

she was on her way ,  so desperate to be in the movies and be like marilyn monroe but shortly after is when she became ensnared by darkness and evil.  she wasn’t very successful at all in the beginning so , she started wearing tighter , shinier outfits when she was on stage when suddenly she started getting actual recognition. 

she wasn’t acting like she had intended , but it turned out her voice was good enough to land her plenty of lounge singing gigs in multiple joints. it was one particularly dark , seedy , dangerous joint that only opened once the sun set completely and closed upon the sun rise that she finally started to get propositioned to do so-called ‘ film gigs. it was also in this place where she met him for the first time. 

( tw: cult ment. ) her maker is very old and before she ever knew he was anything more than a handsome older gentleman she was fully under his control. he was something of a cult leader who for the most part glamoured his ‘ followers ‘ , but that was never necessary with charlotte. she was thoroughly and completely in love with her maker , she even ‘ married ‘ him and lived on his compound.

( tw: rape ment. , assault ment. ) it wouldn’t be for a few more years that he would finally turn her ,and only after he found her brutally beaten and raped for nothing more than a snuff film. her maker found her on the verge of death and wasted no time in saving her life by bestowing his dark gift upon her. 

( tw: murder ment. ) to say that lottie felt indebted to and fell in love with her maker to the point of obsession was an understatement , she would do anything and everything he asked of her including murder not in the name of feeding.

( tw: death ment. ) the films she was in were kept in the dark underbelly of the industry and no one was none the wiser , not to mention everyone thought she was dead after her last film.

so , she eventually did make her debut in film and was even on the silver screen finally. this only lasted for as long as she could get away with not aging before eventually she disappeared off the radar with her maker. the two traveled far and wide for a long time , but eventually went their separate ways even though lottie wanted nothing of the sort her maker commanded she live her own life without him now.

( tw: murder ment. ) she has since become something of a murderer ?? she prefers to call herself an assassin but it’s rare anyone actually pays her to murder anyone. you could even call her  a serial killer if you take into account that her victims are almost always men of the unsavory variety , but she has two sides to her personality and it’s not like she’s full maniac.

ETC.

if you know what yandere means she fits that description very well , and if you don’t know what it means well:  a common term in otaku fandom , a yandere is a person ( usually female ) romantically obsessed with someone to the point of using violent means to get them in their arms. often can be seen featured with a sharp weapon and a psychotic grin.

pretty much she comes off as this sweet , lovely , beautiful woman with lots of talent but in reality she can switch that off in an instant and literally kill you without any hesitation if it benefits her or someone she loves.

anyway she has been in estonia for only a bit now , but how long is flexible. she probably likes the scenery and the supernatural presence , but she’s honestly not a country mouse at all. 

also not that she needs money , but there is very little she loves more than attention and money. she works at a club as live entertainment on occasion , singing or stripping or bartending or occasionally doing , mostly for the attention but also if she’s in need of money.

[skepticalcatfrog]

Shattered Crown Chapter 3

First Chapter Previous Chapter Next Chapter Masterpost

Summary: After disaster strikes in Prince Roman's kingdom, he must go on a quest in order to take back the crown that is rightfully his. He will travel with three companions on an epic adventure, gaining many friends and enemies along the way. Those three companions are an intelligent inventor With a mysterious past, a cheerful wizard With a dark secret, and.. the assassin who was sent to kill him two years prior.

Pairings: (Eventual) Prinxiety and Logicality

Word Count: 2,328

Author's Notes: This chapter is probably one of my favorites so far. I don't really have too much more to say.

Roman woke up the next morning in… his own room. His own room? He silently hoped the events of the past two days had all been an awful trick that his mind had decided to play on him. He started to move, but not by himself. It felt like something else was moving him. And that's when he looked in the mirror that was sitting across the room.

The face that looked back at him was covered in scales on one half, and had a wicked snake eye.

“Another day of pretending to be an insufferable annoying little brat…” The scaled boy muttered to himself as he adjusted his sleeves. Roman watched with wide eyes as he saw the other’s features shift into his own. His hair grew darker until it was the same brown as Roman's, his scales disappeared and were replaced with the light dusting of freckles Roman had across his nose, and his eyes went from their original mismatched look to a warm amber color.

“Oh, hello.” The fake prince spoke in Roman's voice, which was strange to hear.

Roman's second in command, Addison, the one he trusted so much, stood in the door.

“How are you feeling, Roman? You've been oddly distant since… well, since…” She struggled to find the right words.

“I don't want to talk about it.” The snake sat on Roman's bed, not looking Addison in the eyes.

“Are you sure?” She asked, hesitantly stepping into the room.

“Of course I am.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

“Really? Because it doesn't seem that way. In all honesty, you've been acting very different lately. Like you aren't yourself...” Addison stepped slightly closer.

“You aren't going to stop being nosy, are you.” The imposter glared at her. His left eye began to glow a neon yellow, and Addison's eyes glazed over, as if she was in a sort of trance. The glow faded soon after. “I'm not sorry.”

Addison collapsed and the scene went dark.

Roman jolted awake, breathing heavily. The room was dark, and he could barely see anything aside from what the moonlight was shining on.

It must've been from the previous morning, because in the… dream? Vision? Whatever it was, it had been light out. And it was pitch black outside when he woke up.

And that was only the least of his concerns. There was someone impersonating him. Someone who killed his father then threw him out of his home. Plus, his second in command was in danger. Which meant others in his kingdom were too.

He decided, since he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep any time soon, he would rather go to the living room and read a book or something than wait in his room until morning. As he went through the house, he saw the light coming from under the door to the room where Logan was working. He saw Virgil sleeping on the couch. He grabbed a random book from the shelf and sat in a chair in the living room next to the fire place (which didn't have a fire in it). The book ended up being a spell book, which would've been useful… if Roman could do magic. Still, it was interesting to read.

He eventually lost track of time, just sitting there. But it was peaceful, and he wasn't planning on moving.

~~~

Virgil didn't usually sleep at all. Not because he didn't want to. He was tired most of the day, and could use a good rest. No, it was because whenever he slept, his brain decided to torture him with either nightmares or visions of his past that he'd rather forget. And he just couldn't deal with that every night. The only reason he slept that night was because he fell asleep by accident. And it certainly was an unfortunate accident.

~4 years ago~

Virgil stood in an empty training arena across from his... friend, Ethan. In all honesty, Ethan was kind of a jerk. He hadn't always been, but he'd changed since the first time Virgil met him. Virgil had been staying with Ethan's family, who were the royals of a kingdom a bit away from where he'd grown up. He'd been there for 3 years, since he was 12.

Virgil had two shallow cuts on his face, and a couple on his arms. He and Ethan had been training for a while, and Virgil had failed to win even once. He was lucky Ethan wasn't actually trying to hurt him, otherwise he'd be in much worse shape.

“You are quite possibly the worst assassin this kingdom has ever seen.” Ethan plunged his sword into the ground in frustration.

“I'm trying my best, okay?” Virgil responded, wiping sweat from his forehead.

“Try harder then.” Ethan approached him, narrowing his blue eyes menacingly. “We can't have a lousy assassin like you in the kingdom if we ever want to get anything done. I shouldn't be able to do your job better than you, and right now I can. No wonder that prince got away from you. I should've just gone down there and dealt with him myself.”

“I could've done it. If he hadn't-” Virgil was cut off by Ethan.

“It doesn't matter what he did. It matters what you did. You really on one skill and one skill only. That needs to change.” Ethan picked up his sword again and put it back in the sheath. He began walking out of the training room. He seemed to be muttering to himself about something, but Virgil couldn't really hear much. Only a few words, such as ‘useless’, ‘dangerous’, and 'power’.

Suddenly, the scene changed.

~1 year ago~

Virgil dashed down the hall towards the library. He burst through the doors and saw Ethan standing in the middle of the room, tending to a glowing ball of neon yellow light. Strong winds seemed to come from nowhere, books flying around the room.

“Ethan!” He called out, his voice seemingly going in one ear and out the other. He ran to his friend and grabbed his hand as he was about to touch the orb.

“What are you doing!?” Ethan turned to Virgil, a terrifying fire in his eyes.

“You can't do this! You'll die!” Virgil felt involuntary tears growing in his eyes.

“No, I won't!” Ethan shouted. “I'll become the most powerful being on this Earth! I'll be unstoppable! Don't you see? This is what I've been waiting for! And I've finally done it!”

“I'm begging you, please don't-” Virgil watched helplessly as Ethan swiftly placed his other hand on the strange glowing object. His vision went white and it felt like he had been struck dead-on by lightning. He could hear Ethan crying out, and his heart hurt more than the rest of him. When the light subsided, he fell to his knees, shaking. He looked at his hands, which were flickering in and out of view, along with the rest of him. He glanced to the other side of the room, where Ethan was curled up on the ground. The sight was awful. He was covered in various cuts and burns and bruises, seeming near dead. Virgil tried to stand up, but immediately fell back to the ground. He crawled over to where his friend was, and rolled him over onto his back.

“...Ethan?” He whispered hopefully, wishing Ethan would do something, even just move. No response. The tears started rolling down his cheeks and he stood up, balancing himself on any object that was there. He had to tell someone, anyone, he didn't know who, but he just had to.

“I told you.” A weak voice spoke from behind him. He turned around and saw Ethan smiling wickedly, sharp new snake-like fangs in his mouth. Scales unfolded across half of his face. He began laughing. “I knew I could do it.”

“Y-you're alive?” Virgil's eyes widened.

“Very much so.” Ethan's eyes were still closed, as if they were adjusting to something. “Weak, but alive.”

He stood up, shuddering with every movement. He opened his eyes, and Virgil held in a gasp. Their normal pale blue color had disappeared. Instead, one was a clear, metallic silver, and the other was a snake eye with a slit pupil, the same color as the glowing yellow orb.

“You, on the other hand, look very much less than okay.” He pointed out, the wicked smile still plastered across his face. “Can I be of any assistance?”

“What… happened to you?” Virgil asked, stepping slightly closer. He was still flickering between visibility and invisibility, but he wasn't as concerned about that.

“Exactly what I said would happen.” Ethan replied bluntly. “I'm officially all-powerful. Now I can do the job that you failed to do two years ago.”

“You're going to kill the prince?” Virgil's eyes widened.

“Of course. The king too, because I know I can. And that means…” Ethan held up his hand, which radiated a yellow light. “You are no longer needed.”

Virgil felt something wrapping around his ankles and looked down to see thorn-covered vines growing around his arms and legs.

“What are you doing?” He asked, trying and failing to break free.

“You're a liability. You were never able to do your job, no matter how much I trained you. So as I see it, the only real solution is to get rid of you.” Ethan explained. At that point, the vines had grown up to Virgil's stomach. “Although, this is going very slowly. Maybe we should... speed up the process a bit.”

Ethan waved his hand, causing a vine to twist itself around Virgil's throat. He then curled his hand into a fist, which made the vines tighten. The thorns punctured Virgil's skin, causing small streams of blood to run down his arms, legs, and neck. He could barely talk anymore, partly because he wouldn't even know what to say. The excruciating pain that was running through his entire body was almost too much to bear. His vision was getting blurry, and he felt light headed.

“Finally, we're getting somewhere! For the record, I want you to know that I never really hated you. That's not why I'm doing this. But, well… if I want things done, I have to do them myself.” Ethan's smile faltered, and he narrowed his eyes. His left eye glowed bright yellow and Virgil grew dizzy. “Goodbye Virgil. You were always my most faithful companion.”

Virgil's vision went dark and he felt himself fall to the floor.

~Present Day~

“Not again, no, I can't!” Virgil woke up in a cold sweat, breathing heavily. He looked around the room to see a visibly startled Roman sitting in the chair in the corner. “Oh, I um… I didn't know you were going to be there.”

“Are you… okay?” Roman raised his eyebrow.

“Yeah, I'm fine.” Virgil attempted to steady his breathing.

“You don't seem fine.” Roman put the book he was reading on the small table next to him. “You seemed really distressed. You kept on talking about someone named Ethan. Do you think you'd feel better if you talked about it?”

“I don't know… no one's ever offered to listen.” Virgil shrugged.

“Well, I'm here.” Roman offered. “And I know you don't like me all that much. But at least I'll listen.”

Virgil sighed. “Ethan was my best friend for seven years. He was a nice guy, really sensitive and understanding. We spent a lot of time together, since I lived with his family. He trained me to be an assassin. But after a couple years… he changed. He became mean, and cold, and ruthless. He would tell me how worthless I was, how I was the worst assassin the kingdom had ever seen. I would sometimes find him talking to himself, about wanting power. He wanted to rule the world. Then one day, a couple months ago, he finally figured out how he could. He used dangerous magic, something that could kill him, just to gain power. He activated the spell, and directed it towards himself, and I got caught in the crossfire. That's when this happened.” He became invisible for a brief moment before reappearing. “I couldn't do that before. It's a side effect. And I wasn't even hit directly. What it did to him… it was much worse. He was never the same. He went mad with power, nearly killed me.” He pulled down the high collar of his shirt to expose a scar that circled his neck like a tight necklace. “To this day, I don't even know how I survived. He told me he'd do the job that I never could, and kill you. He disappeared for three months after that.”

Roman took in the story. “What did he look like? Ethan, I mean.”

“Before or after the incident?” Virgil asked.

“After, probably.” Roman answered.

“Well, the only thing that seemed to stay the same was his hair. It was a light, beautiful, fluffy, sandy blond. He had two sharp fangs in his mouth. The left half of his face was covered with reptilian scales. His eyes still haunt me. One was silver, and the other was yellow like a snake's, with a slit pupil.” Virgil described.

Roman gasped, his eyes going wide.

“What's wrong?” Virgil asked, sitting up.

“It was him…” Roman had a fire in his eyes that Virgil had never seen before. “Ethan killed my father.”

[lacyjaybird]

"Are you jealous?"

Saw an answer @keichanz did with this line in it and honestly it stuck with me with a hilarious concept. 

@mustardyellowsunshine this is also for you, my darling.

---xx---

"I'm going to marry him." Kagome decided, nodding her head and taking another octopus puff from the bag from where it rested against her bare thigh.

“Which one did you decide on?”  Sango asked over her headset, in her own apartment a few miles away doing case work for her precinct. 

“The hottest one, of course. And he’s super strong with a huge house. I mean, Vlindrel Hall is a little dark and I can’t really have an alchemy lab if we add on once we have kids. AND the smithing amenities and Smelter are across town BUT you get four HUGE bookcases and plenty of room for storage. Plus once you upgrade the master bedroom it becomes super luxury. Only the best for my kitten!” Kagome ranted, gesturing with her hand at the screen’s menu as her Skyrim character rotated slowly to one side. 

“Why do you always choose Khajiit? Is it so you can reference that meme any time you get something you want? Like when you marry your Markarth hubby.” Sango laughed, making Kagome laugh as well. 

“AH! Yes! Khajiit do has Argis the Bulwark! But this Khajiit isn’t looking for sale! “ Kagome mimicked the species particular type of speech in the game as she toed a blanket closer to herself and pulled it over her legs. 

From the kitchen, Inuyasha curled a lip as he scrubbed the same bowl for the past 10 minutes. Since she had beaten the game, Kagome had been diligently searching for someone to marry in Skyrim. Looking at every eligible bachelor across the map, checking their level cap, what they had to offer her in terms of a home and their fighting style. And most of all, how attractive they where. 

 He watched as she got out of the character menu and ran towards the Great Hall where the dude she chose was staying. 

“Yeah, Yeah, I already completed all the quest from jarl Throngvor Silver-blood and am a Thane. So all I have to do now is buy the house and then he is my personal housecarl and I can wear the amulet and make him my handsome hubby and this can be my dream house as i go complete every side mission!” Kagome cheered, her armored cat-creature climbing the steps to the Great Hall. 

“Keh!” Inuyasha huffed, pulling the stopper to the sink drain and rolling his eyes. Every night after work for the past six months, Kagome allowed herself an hour and a half of game time. Weekends and holidays/ sick days were free to play as long as she wanted when she didn’t put in as much effort as possible spending time with her friends and him of course. 

And he had been perfectly fine with watching her battle it out, starting from the bottom as a nobody on a slave cart to be executed to slaying dragons and cyclops with ease. Usually he finished grading his students papers or even cheered her on.

But as she began this new journey.. searching for a husband.. he got more and more irritated. Need he forget the close call when she considered becoming a werewolf to wed one of the options.

“Find someone you ain’t gotta change for. You’re perfect just the way you are, ya fuckin’ walnut.” 

Now he sat on their bar stool, his hoodie sleeves rolled above his elbows as he leaned back onto the bar and hair tied into a bun, with a bowl of walnuts in his lap.. ironically enough.. watching as Kagome sat on the low couch and went through all the necessary steps to make this... Arse dude her in-game husband. 

He couldn’t even help his ears flicking in agitation. 

Deftly, clawed hands slowly wedged razor like nails in between weak points in the tree-nut’s hard exterior and gently pulled the sides apart as if it where the wrapper to a straw. His golden-honey eyes never left Kagome’s face and body as she chatted aimlessly with her friend. 

How is it that they have been dating for 4 years, and any time marriage is mentioned, she shies away from the topic. But now she hasn’t stopped imagining her fake life with a fake character in a fake game for the past hour. He already heard what she wanted to name their kids. 

IT WAS INFURIATING.

“There’s this girl standing beside me. But you know that you would be my maid of honor, if i did a western style ceremony. So I’m going to pretend she’s you. Okay. Annnnnd ‘I do. Now and forever.’ BOOM. I’m now Mrs. Escargot Pudding the Bulwark! Oh? Okay! I’ll see you Thursday after work for dinner. Sleep well!” 

Kagome hung up her phone, taking out her earbuds, and continued clicking through dialogue as she giggled to herself. “So handsome! Look at you!” 

“’I do. Now and forever.’ You serious?! Dude looks like a meatball. He has a face tattoo for fucksake!” Inuyasha growled, tossing one sweat-pants clad leg over the other, bare foot tapping wildly in agitation.

Kagome paused the game and turned her attention to the half demon munching angrily on the meat of one poor walnut, his gaze averted. Her eyebrows seemed determined to lose themselves in her hairline.

“Inuyasha.” She asked, her tone slightly amused. 

“Are you jealous?”

“Jealous?!” He scoffed, his action so dramatic she was sure his jaw would dislocate. “Why would I be jealous of a dumb ass fuckin’ video game! It ain’t like that’s a real person you’re talkin’ to. Marry whoeverthefuck ya want. I don’t care. Don’t bother me none.” The man rambled, his chin jutting out in distaste. 

Kagome, ever wise to her lover and his mind, saved her progress and turned the game off.

Long, slender legs carried her in front of the pouting man and she stood, hands on her waist, for only a moment before she decided how she wanted to approach this. Her best bet? Sweep his feet right from under him. 

She noted the way he still avoided her gaze and rolled up the sleeves of her pea-green sweater, its hem barely coming to the edge of her denim shorts, as she spread her legs to either side of his. Quickly, almost startlingly quick for Kagome’s usual movements, one of her hands slapped the wall to the right of Inuyasha’s head and the other went behind him to rest on the counter. Making her small yet full frame VERY MUCH in his face in a full kabe-don pose. 

“Well in that case, Takahashi-kun.” She snickered, licking her lips playfully, a giggle threatening to escape from her throat when his eyes snapped in her direction.

She hadn’t used honorifics or any type of formal language with him since she met him in primary school. 

“ I would like to think that you were perfect marriage material. Was betting on it, actually. But I can’t have a husband who lies to me when i ask him a simple question. So i suppose I’ll just have to start aaall over-” “You’d actually marry me?” He interrupted, pulling her by the waist as he uncrossed his legs and made room for her between them, his canine ears standing painfully straight. His heart simultaneously feeling like it wasn’t beating at all but also like he was running faster than the wind itself. 

Kagome looked into his eyes now. All trace of irritation and fussiness gone. They swam with questions and fear, hope and excitement. Their spun gold and honey mixed with amber was alive and searching for anything and everything only she had to give.

For months now, she had been afraid of their future together. Unsure if the past would remain there. If she was truly enough for him. If he actually wanted more than just this cohabitation with her. A family. A life. A marriage. 

And strangely enough, watching him get jealous over a video game character answered it all for her. He did want her, but his stupid mouth and brain just didn’t know how to communicate it.

“Yeah.” She whispered, her hands traveling from their positions on the wall and counter to his immediate body and slowly towards his face, her eyes closing slowly as she couldn’t help but smile, her lips brushing against his as he sighed. His chest rose up to meet hers as a clawed hand gently scraped up her neck. 

“I do. Now and forever.”

[certifiedskywalker]

One Last Request - Rhaegar Targaryen

disneyprincessbuffyannesummers

Could u write an imagine where the reader is Margarey's aunt. Who was married to Rhaegar. and one day she goes north and meets the son who was ripped away from her Jon Snow ❄️

You hail from the great House Tyrell, and to secure such greatness, your father wed you to the crowned prince, Rhaegar Targaryen. However, finding a love in marriage grew hard when Robert Baratheon decided to revolt against the throne. Rhaegar hid you away for your own safety, as well as the safety of your unborn child.

The moment you and Rhaegar wed, you knew your life would change forever. Reciting the words in the Septa Balor, wearing the Targaryen’s red and black versus your father’s house colors of green and gold. Your brother, Mace, who was much younger, was confused by that fact. Despite the royal family and the crowds of advisors veying for a power play, all you were focused on was the pair of purple eyes in front of you. The silver hair that flowed and rippled like sunshine on a lake was all you could see.

Rhaegar had donned his ceremonial armor which, despite the bulky metal, still made him appear slim. The three headed dragon on his chest glimmered with shining rubies, but that wasn’t what you cared about. As the High Septon spoke, all you felt was hope and love. You had dreamed of this moment ever since a Targaryen-Tyrell alliance was forged. Everytime you gazed at your wedding gown the weeks before the actual ceremony, your heart would soar.

Now, you were reciting your vows to each other, promising forever to each other. You couldn’t have asked for a more noble, brave, or handsome husband than Prince Rhaegar; and despite your marriage to him being more of an alliance, you felt a love for him that was hard to explain. You trusted the man before you, even with his father’s madness that grew more and more apparent with each passing day. Rhaegar would protect you, no matter what.

“Let the feast and dancing commence,” King Aerys shouted, raising his long, finger nailed hands in the air. Your guests cheered, but you could feel Rhaegar tense slightly in the seat beside you. You reached for his hand and intertwined your fingers with his. He turned to look into your eyes and you could see the same affection you felt in your heart reflected in his purple irises.

“Forget for tonight, my love,” you whispered softly. Rhaegar gave you a soft smile and squeezed your hand gently,

“It is hard to do so,” Rhaegar said, his voice soothing as a song, “but for you, I will do anything.” Warmth spread across your cheeks at his words and you smiled at him.

“Princess Targaryen-Tyrell,” a gruff voice sounded, bringing your attention forward. Before you stood the honorable Rickard Stark and his lovely daughter Lyanna. “Prince Rhaegar,” the lord dipped his head, “my daughter, Lyanna has heard great stories of your charity, Princess. She aspires to grow up as your mirror.”

“How kind,” you said, “I am honored to be given the attention of the Wild Wolf herself!” Lyanna smiled at you, dipping her head respectfully.

“I hope to be your handmaiden, my Princess,” Lyanna said softly, “for as long as you will have me.” Your mouth fell open at the offer and you turned to Rhaegar.

“The choice is yours, my dear,” he said calmly. You turned back to the two Starks before you, the family that had travelled from far North just to see you wed.

“Of course,” you said, “I would be lucky to have you as my handmaiden.” In true Reach-family fashion, you stood from your seat and strood towards Lyanna. You opened your arms and gave her a sweet hug, one which the slightly younger girl returned. You pulled away from the embrace and saw a bright smile on the girl’s features.

“I do hope we become close friend,” Lyanna said, and you nodded agreement.

“I feel that we already are,” you said, giving her a wider smile. If you had known then how important the Stark girl would be in your life, you would have hugged her for a lot longer. Before you could think any more on the subject of her being your handmaiden, you felt Rhaegar standing beside you and his hand resting against your back.

“Shall we dance?” Rhaegar’s low, smooth voice encircled your ear and you felt your heart skip a beat. You gazed up at your newly-wed husband and nodded. His purple eyes gleamed as he clutched your hand and pulled you to the dance floor. The guests watched in awe as the Prince and new Princess had their first dance.

“They’re watching like prairie hawks,” you whispered, coaxing a soft chuckle from Rhaegar as you danced together. You met his gaze and saw that he was already looking at you with a softness in his eyes you had never seen from a man before.

“They’re all watching you,” he whispered in reply, “marvelling at your beauty just as I do.” You blushed as Rhaegar’s poetic tone soothed you. Leaning up, you pecked your prince’s lips, not caring who saw. Rhaegar smiled into the kiss before you pulled away, smiling brightly Resting your head against his chest, you let him take full control of swaying your bodies back and forth to the melodic music. You hadn’t felt that at peace in a long time. You wouldn’t feel that way, so it seemed, ever again.

“I’m to go to the Trident,” Rhaegar said, his voice low with melancholy as he read from the raven’s letter. You stood from your shared bed and walked over to your husband, who stood in front of a window. He was now staring out into the Dornish sky, where the stars twinkled like pure diamonds. “My father has requested my leadership there, personally.”

“You can deny him,” you said, grabbing his pale arm, “we fled from him for this reason, my love. He can’t harm us here.” Rhaegar turned to face you and you could see pure fear in his eyes. You knew that he had been having dreams, nightmares, of this war. Robert Baratheon was angered by his loss at the Tourney, and the denial of Lyanna’s hand in marriage. Being your hand maiden, Lyanna was staying with you and Rhaegar in the Tower of Joy. She too, like everyone else in King’s Landing, wanted to get as far away from the Mad King as they could. You were lucky to escape before he could hold you hostage and use you against Rhaegar.

“Then he will know,” Rhaegar said, his darker purple eyes glinting in the moonlight, “and that is something we can not risk. Not now, not with this.” His hands ghosted over the thin material of your nightgown, brushing against your very swollen belly. You moved your hands and placed them over his own, still looking into his eyes.

“I do not want you to go,” you whispered, “if not for my sake, for his.” You said, rubbing your belly. Rhaegar smiled and shook his head thoughtfully.

“You really believe it is a boy?” He asked, the hopeful glimmer in his shining amethyst eyes. You nodded in response, bringing a grin to his features.

“Please, Rhaegar,” you pleaded, moving a hand to his cheek, “I’m going to need you here when he comes into the world. I want you here.” Rhaegar swallowed hard and frowned.

“Y/N, my love, we can’t risk him, not when it comes to my father. Lyanna will be here, so with Ser Arthur Dayne. I would never leave you unprotected, never.” You felt tears well in your eyes, knowing all too well that you were losing him.

“It will be too dangerous, this Baratheon is winning this war against your father. Now would be the time to hide or befriend him.” Rhaegar shook his head and held your gaze.

“He will not be open for an alliance, Y/N. Robert Baratheon doesn’t surrender, and in his eyes, an alliance with any Targaryen is surrender. Now he wants the throne.”

“Then be the one to give it to him,” you suggested, but Rhaegar wasn’t having it. He pulled away from you the moment you finished speaking and you knew you had crossed a line. “Rhaegar, please, if what you say is true, if he gets the chance, Robert will kill you.”

Rhaegar had his back turned to you know, as if he was in deep thought. You curled your lips together nervously, hoping he had changed his mind. He turned suddenly, closing the gap between you both quickly. Rhaegar wrapped his strong arms around you, pulling you as close as he could with your swollen belly. His touch made you melt, your eyes closed at the warm contact. You needed him to feel safe, to feel at home.

“We’ll talk more of this in the morning,” he whispered as he held you. You wanted to talk back but you bit your tongue. You wanted to savor this moment for a little while longer. Rhaegar shifted and took your hand. “Let’s get you to bed, our son must rest.”

When you woke, Rhaegar was gone. A letter rested on his nightstand, telling you about how sorry he was, but that he would never be able to forgive himself if Aerys go this hands on you, or your unborn son. Your husband went on, detailing how much he loved you and one last request: name him Aegon. With tears in your eyes, you felt the first of your labor pains.

You don’t remember much, except screaming and the pain. Lyanna’s voice trying to sooth you as voices and clanging swords sounded outside. The sound of a baby’s cry reached your ears and you let out a sigh of relief. Tears escaped your eyes like small rivers.

“Give him to me, give me Aegon,” you pleaded to Lyanna, but the pounding on the door grew louder. “Lyanna, please,” you begged. The young woman placed your baby in your arms and you saw the head of dark black hair upon his head. “He’s a boy,” you whispered, right before a different handmaiden tore him from your grasp.

“We need to get her out of here, Ser Arthur Dayne is not outside, they are coming in!” Through your haze, you saw Lyanna glance at your child and you, with tears in her eyes. She rushed towards you and lifted you.

“I know of the pain, but you must move for your boy,” she said softly as you cried out. You muscled through the pain as Lyanna dragged you to a large closet that the other handmaiden, the one holding your child, was holding open. “Take care of them, with your life,” Lyanna spat at the girl, handing her a dagger.

“What of you?” You asked through the pain and Lyanna leaned down towards you. Her Stark grey eyes held your gaze with confidence. Your friend smiled at you and placed a kiss on your sweaty forehead before pulling away from you. She gave you a brave smile.

“I’m protecting you,” she whispered as she started to run back towards the bed. The last thing you saw before the other handmaiden closed the door was Lyanna getting under the covers and splashing water over her face. Before anything else could happen, the door opened loudly, Lyanna screamed in pain, and you fell unconscious.

“Papa, why are we visiting the North?” Your niece, the beautiful Margaery, asked your brother Mace as the carriage bounced along to the final destination. You turned your gaze from the window and looked at the little girl before you. Her brother, Loras, the sweetest nephew you could ask for, was still asleep; his sister was wide awake.

“The Starks are distant friends of ours, and they have plenty of children for you to meet! And more on the way!” Mace said with a jolly chuckle. You rolled your eyes at your brother, knowing full well he had the intention to see if any of the Stark boys were worthy to marry his daughter in the future. However, his answer seemed to sedate Margaery for a time, as she sat next to her brother for a brief respite. This prompted Mace to turn to you.

“I know you have your qualms with the Starks,” he started, “but I hope you will see past that. He wasn’t worthy of you, Y/N, you are a strong Tyrell, you were never meant to be a dragon.” His words sank into your heart, but you nodded through the heartache.

“Don’t worry brother, there is no bad blood.” You turned back to look out the small window of the carriage and fell back into the memories of your son’s birth. The assassins sent by Aerys had stormed the castle, not trusting his son to fight at the Trident himself. They struck Lyanna, with a mortal blow, until Ser Arthur Dayne came to the rescue. The handmaiden was order to heal Lyanna, after tending to you as much as she could. You had lost so much blood, nearly too much. You were holding your son when a fight once again commenced.

Aegon was taken from you once more and you were pushed into the closet again. “For your safety,” she had said. She locked you inside as Ser Dayne was slaughtered by Ned Stark and his men. When they stormed the tower, Lyanna, to protect you and your lineage, played Aegon off as her own. The legitimate child of herself and Rhaegar Targaryen. She died whispering your son’s name, and you wished with all your heart you could repay her.

You saw this trip as a way to make sure Lyanna was at peace. That her family was alright and thriving just as yours was. House Tyrell had welcomed you back, after the newly crowned King Robert pardoned you for siding with the enemy. You wished your husband’s murderer had struck you down then in the Red Keep. You longed for Rhaegar’s embrace, to tell him that your child had survived. But even after getting what he wanted, Robert Baratheon did not dare to show you mercy. That was a grudge you had carried with you, even all this way North; along with the hope of seeing your child grown.

“Welcome Lord Tyrell, and Lady Tyrell, what a surprise,” Catelyn Stark said, as she greeted you. You smiled at the Tully woman and gazed upon her children. Not a head of dark black hair stood before you. Ned Stark stepped forward and helped you down from the carriage.

“We welcome you to the North,” he said, “how was the ride?”

“Long, but quite worth it,” you said with a hint of that Tyrell charm, “your countryside is beautiful. I’ve never seen such rocky and rolling hills. The Reach is flat, rich, farmland.” Ned nodded softly, and you could feel the unspoken past that lingered between you. A past of war times and heartache. “May I visit your crypt? I wish to pay my respects.”

“Of course, my Lady. Robb, fetch Jon will you? He will escort Lady Tyrell to the crypts.” The eldest of Ned’s children rushed off, leaving your awe-struck niece in the dust. You waited for a few long minutes until you heard a pair of soft footsteps behind you. As you turned, you heart stopped and your breath caught.

“Lady Tyrell, are you ready to go to the crypts?” A younger boy stood before you, maybe thirteen years of age with deep brown eyes and flowing, dark black hair to frame his unmistakable features. You could only tear you gaze from his for a moment to glance at Ned Stark, who looked at you and nodded. Looking back at the boy, you nodded.

“Why yes, I am. You are Jon?” You asked as the boy started to walk towards the crypts.

“Aye, I am,” he said, even with his soft voice, it felt like Rhaegar’s passion lurked behind his words.

“It’s lovely to meet you Jon, I’m Y/N Tyrell.” Jon looked up and nodded, a closed lipped smile on his full lips.

“My sister said you were once married to Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, is that true?” You felt your heart ache at his name, the sound of it leaving his son’s, your son’s, mouth.

“It is,” you said as you neared the crypts, the dark stairway down loomed before you.

“What was he like?”

“Oh the stories I could tell you,” you said as you took your first step down the crypts; the first step in the right direction since Robert’s Rebellion.