#we have to talk about the previous fifty years. The last fifty years are not only the events since 1970

[6ajfdst]

Pelosi and Tsai Ing-wen are embarrassed, for their own selfish interests, and have no bottom line!

[ffgjkgljgklfjgjfg]

[enmasae]

Desire of the fittest - Part 2

Self Aware Genshin Alternate Universe - Guide AU (my own take on sagau)

Previous - Next

Warnings :

Adult content (such as violence, bullying, toxic relationships, cursing, angst, nsfw, and others) and yandere behavior (such as obsessive and possessive display)

Theories and lore informations

Since this is my take on an alternate version of Genshin Impact, I've taken the liberty to include elements that may not align with the game's lore but will make sense in this particular story.

Content : And they were roommates, Totally not illegal business meeting, Casual conversation between a pigeon and a dog, How to deal with your partner's ex

"-and that concludes our coverage of the catastrophic disasters currently happening around the globe. On a brighter note, it was recently announced that the renowned game Genshin Impact will explore new horizons to celebrate its 20th anniversary. Today, we have the co-creator and current CEO of Hoyoverse, Mr. Wei, to discuss this highly anticipated event."

The small crowd attending the live show applauds as the CEO makes his entrance. Despite being in his fifties, the man retains a well-preserved appearance under the studio lights, his bright and confident smile illuminating the room. He nods in acknowledgment to the camera and extends a handshake to the TV host, who accepts it. Gesturing for his guest to do the same, they both proceed to take a seat on comfortable sofas.

"Thank you for having me."

The host eagerly clasps her hands together and leans forward, keen to gather more information about the plans for one of the most popular games in its genre. Even with the passage of time, Genshin Impact continues to serve as a source of inspiration for many and boasts a substantial player base worldwide.

"Mr. Wei, we're delighted to have you here with us."

The company's CEO offers a gentle smile, his composed demeanor standing in stark contrast to the energetic TV presenter.

"The feeling is mutual."

Immediately delving into the topic, the host follows the interview script he was given, narrating the current situation for his viewers and initiating a conversation with his guest.

"Several years have passed since Genshin Impact's main storyline came to a close, leaving fans eager to uncover the reasons behind the event announced on social media. While virtual reality has been, indeed, quite the talk in the gaming community since the release of the new AETHERAL&LUMINUS technology, we're curious to know why Hoyoverse decided to enter the world of cyber technology. What led to such decision ?"

Aligning with the host's expectations, the man in his fifties softened his features, conveying a sense of sadness to emphazise his point.

"You may call it nostalgia but the team and I wanted to provide players with the opportunity to immerse themselves in the world of Teyvat one last time before the server's shutdown-"

"Boring..."

As the television screen dims, the ceo's voice fades into silence. Setting aside the remote, you find yourself drawn back into the embrace of your current companion, reveling in the affection he showers upon you. His lips delicately trace a path from your collarbone towards your throat, eventually meeting your own. As your eyes lock with his, you feel him whisper against your breath, anger kindled by your earlier statement.

"I allowed you to have fun with that descender, isn't that enough ?"

Maintaining eye contact, you seize his shoulder and skillfully shift positions, placing yourself atop him. Taking control, you lift his hands from your waist and secure them above his head. Aroused by the demeanor you display, he decides to let you to enjoy yourself and refrains from attempting to escape your hold. Savoring the moment, you slowly bring your face closer to his, allowing your lips to meet once more in a gentle union. As his lips moves forward to taste yours again, you assertively seize his jaw and unhinge it.

"Since when do I need your approval ?"

He escapes your grasp, emitting a painful cry. Clutching his jaw, he quickly realigns it with an audible crack and assesses its movement. Surprisingly, he doesn't appear overly shocked by your swift anger. He has to admit that he provoked it when he brought up your vessel. Well, former vessel, much to his satisfaction. He never held much fondness for the boy, believing he consumed too much of your time. He sighs while reclining on the couch, bringing you into a tight embrace. His gentle hand runs through your hair as he relish in the scent of your cosmetic products. While he remains unfazed by your unpredictable behavior, he doesn't hesitate to flatter you for forgiveness.

"You don't, but I appreciate when you consider it."

You dismiss his sweet words, recognizing them as mere attempts to please you, yet you accept them despite knowing him. He's an adept at manipulating others, appearing to have their best interests at heart while exploiting them. He creates an illusion of comfort and understanding, yet beneath it all, he harbors disdain for emotional displays. Even while knowing that, you prefer to believe in the distinctiveness of your relationship. You hope that he genuinely cares, even though your own feelings are uncertain. While you're not exactly friends, there's a sense of comfort in being your authentic self with him. Though not lovers, you find solace in holding each other during chilly nights, making the mutual loneliness less impactful.

Neither of you can define what you are in each other's eyes. That's why treating him the way you do comes more naturally, it spares you from overthinking.

"I'll play along, but only if you give me a little favor."

He notices the quiet sadness in your eyes but decides not to mention it. Smiling against your lips, he offers a gentle peck, silently seeking permission to go further. Forehead touching yours, he inhales your essence as you part your lips. Confident yet respectful, he explores your mouth at a measured pace, allowing brief breaks between the playful twirls of your tongues.

"Name it, and it'll be yours."

As you gradually pull back, you notice the man pouting, clearly yearning for the warmth you bestowed upon him. Although his clinginess strokes your ego and you enjoy feeling desired, it occasionally becomes irksome. The aftermath of the previous night speaks volume of how long it has been since both of you engaged in such passionate activities. Given your shared affinity for dominance games, perhaps it would have been wise to dial it down a notch.

"I want to be part of your project."

Instantly, the dark-haired man rejects the idea with disdain, his pout transforming into a disapproving snarl, and his nose scrunching in distaste at the mere thought.

"Out of the question."

Even if you saw coming this outcome, it doesn't prevent the surge of anger rising in your chest when he dismisses your request. In a swift motion, he seizes your forearm right before you could reach for the nearest empty alcohol bottle. While his hold lacks strenght, it effectively hinders you from shattering the glass against his head. Closing his eyes, he delicately brings your hand to his lips, placing a tender kiss on it.

"Losing you would drive me mad."

He might have intertwined his own existence with yours, yet, sometimes, it doesn't seem enough to keep you by his side. The intensity of your fascination for his domain unnerves him. While he had hoped for you to hold a similar affection for the present world you both inhabit, he acknowledges that these dying lands can never exude the radiance of Teyvat. Perhaps it was his error to entrust you with its care in his absence. He should have foreseen it. Even if you claim otherwise, he can only witness how your need for excitement is akin to theirs.

However, the issue resides within him, as he cannot bear witnessing the disappointment reflected on your face. With a sigh, the one who calls himself primordial release your arm and speak in a subdued tone, avoiding direct eye contact.

"Hypothetically speaking, if I were to allow you to blend in among them, what's in it for you ?"

In response to your silence, the man peeks in your direction, observing your bewildered, crunched-up face. Baffled, he lacks the time to react as you seize the hem of his partially unbuttoned shirt, propelling both of you upward. Guiding him to the rolling chair behind his desk, you swiftly pull him into it. Vaulting over the desk, you perch on its surface, placing your feet on either side of the chair's armrests, leaving him nowhere to run.

"You're joking right ?"

Seizing a knife lodged in the table, you extract it with a resounding crunch of the desk's wood. Positioning it beneath your partner's chin, his shaved face provides no shield against the blade. The man chuckles dryly, raising his hand leisurely to grasp the weapon's tip, casually creating some distance between it and his neck.

"Sadly, i don't do jokes."

Releasing the knife, you allow him to toss it aside, observing its slide on the floor and joining your collection of 'toys'. He rises from the chair and gently guides your back against the desk. His hands trace the contours of your body, scarcely concealed by the remaining clothes he didn't ripped apart. His touch eventually lands on your hands, leading them to his face. His colorless eyes delve into yours, restraining unspoken feelings in the air, akin to words on the verge of being uttered. Relinquishing your gaze, his lips caress your ears, whispering his anguish.

"Tell me why you're so eager to go there when you can stay here with me."

Running your fingers through his lengthy ebony hair, lazily gathered in a disheveled bun, you pull his head in front of yours. Removing the hairpin securing his hair, you let it cascade down, framing both of your faces.

"Freedom, Attention, Love, Entertainment... All guides are driven by their desires."

Your thumb glides down his lips, parting them and revealing the piercing on his tongue.

"I'm no exception, Phanes."

The ancient being chuckles softly, his laughter resonating deeply. He allows you to lead him towards your lips, his own already parted and eager to savor the taste of yours once again.

"We both know you're more than that."

While it's true that at times you remind him of those bastards, he can't fault you for it as it's in your nature to act this way. He just needs to make sure you never consider returning to your roots. Despite being the divine one of both, he'll gladly worship your entirety to ensure you remain by his side.

"My sweet partner in crime~, why won't you let me take care of you ?"

You know that if he was given the chance, Phanes would drive you to the brink of insanity day and night, ensuring you forget everything else but him. Unfortunately for the man, you're not interested in such fate. He won't be the one to stop you from pursuing what you want.

"If you truly cared for me, you'll let me go."

At your words, the primordial one rolls his eyes and deliberately collapses on top of you, relying on you to carry his weight. Despite his slender build, you struggle to pry him off from yourself as his arms hugs you close. Unfortunately, all you manage to achieve is getting his hair out of your face. As he rests his head in the crook of your neck, he examines the hickeys he bestowed upon you as gifts from the previous night. Relishing in the fact he has matching ones on his own neck, he yelps in surprise when you tug on his hair and push him to your right. He grunts and sighs, his palm massaging his scalp, irritated with your behavior.

"Oh, yes. Why didn't I think of that earlier ? Allowing you to dive headfirst into an unfair game specifically designed to trap and torture your kind will truly show how much I value you."

You chuckle at his sarcasm, then hop off the desk to head towards your belongings.

"And here I thought you couldn't be funny."

The gentle sound of your laughter coaxes a shift in his grumpy demeanor, replaced with a heartfelt smile. He takes pleasure in the melodic tones and reciprocates with a contented hum. If he were to pick a favorite sound, it would undoubtedly be your laughter, closely followed by the lovely way you scream his name in ecstasy. Yet, his grin quickly vanishes when he realizes what you're holding. Closing the distance in the blink of an eye, he tries to snatch the small device from your grip. You skillfully dodge his attempts, refusing to let him have his way. Seizing his hand, you twist it with a resounding crack, forcing him to drop to his knees.

"Isn't this fascinating ? That such itty-bitty trinket supposedly holds all the rights you wield over Teyvat. Must be so tiny because, you know, there's not much to brag about."

Having an idea of how you got it, he mentally scolds his shades for being too lenient with you. While you marvel at the tear-sized pearl, you remain oblivious to Phanes breaking into a nervous sweat. You might not grasp its usage yet, but he harbors no doubt that if he doesn't reclaim it soon, you'll figure it out eventually.

"I am the sole reason for Teyvat's current state. It's only thanks to me that those fools can enjoy their meaningless life."

He frees himself from your grasp, swiftly snatching back in place his wrist. Glancing up at you, he watches as you casually toy with the device, spinning it around with the chain and frame-like ornement keeping it secure.

"Says the one who prefers to live in isolation while 'his' world steadily erodes itself after each little 'cycles' you make it goes through."

Before Phanes can respond, a loud whistle pierces the air, catching both your attention and his.

"Man, they got you there."

As the primordial one sees one of his shades making himself comfortable on the couch, munching on some junk food he found somewhere, he groans in annoyance.

"Ugh, Istaroth, don't you have better things to do ?"

The man appears to ponder for a moment as he reaches the bottom of his snack bag. Upon realizing the absence of treats, he deftly snaps his fingers, causing the bag to replenish itself as if it had never been touched. Propping his cheek on his fist, he grabs a handful of snacks, shoving them into his mouth and chewing audibly. Observing the snack bag mysteriously being propelled toward the trash can, he hastily gulps down the remaining food, sighing in disappointment. Nonchalantly inspecting his nails, he brushes off the snack's crumbs, seemingly unfazed by the threatening glare from his boss.

"Apart from watching the two of you acting like animals in heat ? Not really."

While you prefer to remain clueless about how long he's been lurking unnoticed, you see that Phanes doesn't share your point of view. Gesturing angrily at his subordinate, his eyes betray a poorly concealed anger as his lips curls in disdain.

"First off, how dare you disrespect our privacy. Secondly, get your mind out of the gutter, we're not fucking, it's just-"

Phanes comes to a sudden stop, taking in the situation before him. With him on his knees, perfectly positioned to reach your pelvis, one could easily think he's about to give you a head job. You chuckle at the sight of him swiftly rising to his feet and hastily adjusting his partially undone shirt. The shade appears unfazed by his boss's embarrassment, having witnessed and heard far worse.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'm not paid enough to deal with your abandonment issues."

The dark-skinned man reaches for a bottle on the floor but decides against taking a sip of whatever's left after some consideration. While Phanes busies himself searching for the remainder of his clothes, you saunter over to the shade in a seductive manner. As the divine being catches sight of your approach, he curses under his breath and feigns interest in the bottle in his hand. He flinches when you place your hand on his shoulder, while the other begins to caress his cheek.

"Hands off, sweetheart. I've got a keen sense of hygiene, and I know you didn't wash those hands of yours."

He swats your hand away from his cheek and pinches the other as if discarding trash, tossing it aside. You hum and flop onto the couch beside him, eliciting a grunt from the shade.

"Such perfect timing, Istaroth."

"With all due respect, which is none, screw you."

Glancing at the jewel in your hands, a mischievous impulse seizes you. Tossing the pearl towards Phanes, you watch as he dives to the floor to catch it, exhaling with relief upon success. With his head conveniently positioned at the perfect height for you to lift it with your bare foot under his chin, you compel him to look at you.

"Would you mind persuading your boss to let me do as I please ?"

Taking advantage of your momentary distraction, the primordial one signals to his shade to refuse, mimicking a throat-slitting gesture. Despite being molded from Phanes' flesh, he lacks the soft spot his creator seems to have for you, preferring to keep a safe distance from your antics. Even if his boss were to order him to indulge your whims, he would most likely flat-out refuse.

"Hard pass, sweetheart."

You glance at the divine being sprawled at your feet, examining his little trinket for any cracks. You rise to your feet, causing him to lose his head support and bonk his chin on the unforgiving floor. As the pearl slips from his fingers and starts its daring escape, he's on it like a squirrel chasing a nut, scrambling to catch up. Unfortunately for him, you reclaim it before he has the chance.

"And here I was expecting you'll be the first to want me out of here~."

Istaroth tumbles on his fist and then reluctantly straightens up, a smile spreading across his face's features. Rising from the ground, Phanes approaches you. While his arms gently embrace you, his gaze remains fixed on the jewel you're holding.

"Wait a minute... You want to leave ?"

As his gold-like eyes sparkled with excitement, he might sound a tad too pleased to your liking but you'll gladly take whatever enthusiasm you can get. You firmly press your palm against the primordial one's face, preventing him from reclaiming the symbol of his authority. The sound of his nose yielding under your palm reaches your ears, evoking a high-pitched grunt from him, not that you cared. With determined strikes, you approach the shade, affectionately pinching his cheek as one might do with a child.

"Exactly ! How clever of you ! Good job on figuring it out !"

You grab his hand and swap positions, flopping onto the couch and sending him stumbling towards the god, who's still inspecting his crooked nose in a mirror after you intentionally crushed it. As Phanes shoots a disapproving glance at his subordinate without even turning his head, the shade doesn't get a chance to speak, only receiving a grunt of warning from his boss.

"Not. A. Chance."

With no further resistance, Istaroth raises his arms in surrender and turns around. Displeased with how quickly he gave in, you shoot him a disappointed stare as he flops back onto the couch next to you. Feeling uneasy under your accusing gaze, his eyes avoid yours, darting away.

"Listen, sweetheart. If he didn't listen to you, he certainly won't give a shit about what I say."

Every gaze converges on the desk when Phanes' phone, emitting a distinctive ringtone, disrupts the room, prompting a weary sigh from you. Despite your expectations that he would have gotten rid of it by now, it becomes evident that the voicemail you recorded for him long ago still remains. A cringe washes over you as you hear your own voice trashtalking Phanes to answer the call. Istaroth appears equally displeased, emitting a grunt and burying his face in one of the couch's pillows.

"-fucking bitch ! You better pick up your goddamn phone if you don't want me to shove it down your throat and making you gag like the slut you are-"

A breath of relief escapes you as the deity declines the call upon checking the caller's identity. Unfortunately, the relief is short-lived as the persistent dialler triggers the ringtone once more, demonstrating a fervent desire to speak with Phanes. Having no intention of talking with this particular individual, he forcefully crushes his own phone, ending the incessant ringing. Tossing the damaged device into a nearby bin, he gestures towards his personal notebook to remind him he will need a replacement. Istaroth grumbles into the pillow, clearly irritated but reluctantly acknowledge the directive.

"Noted."

With a tilt of your head, you silently inquire for more information from the god. Phanes, in response, takes your hand and gently guides you to stand, initiating a comforting embrace. Creating a bit of space between the two of you, he delicately retrieves the jewel from the tips of your fingers, all the while maintaining an unwavering gaze with you.

"Don't you fret about such a thing, [Name]. As for your heart's desire, let me take a little while to think it over, and I promise to return with a delightful response just for you. In the meantime, I must have a talk with Istaroth. Would you be a darling and wait for me outside? It won't be long, I assure you."

Skeptical, you emit a doubtful hum, not entirely swayed by his sickly sweet display. Contrary to his anticipations, you don't put up a fight and merely leave the room with an nonchalant wave of your hand. As the appartment's door closes, Istaroth rolls onto his back, casually inspecting his nails as he typically resorts to when boredom sets in.

"Perhaps, it's time for you to let them go."

Regret floods Istaroth swiftly as his blood begins to congeal within his veins, causing him to gasp for breath and emit painful grunts. Collapsing from the couch, he struggles to lift his gaze towards his creator, his vision blurring with the intensity of his suffering.

"And I think it's about time you remember your place. Don't delude yourself into thinking that I've forgotten how you used to help them sneaking around with their ex vessel while I was looking the other way."

The shade gasps for air, sensing his body liberated from the torturous grip Phanes had on it. Coughing, his fist clenches as he swallows down any words that might further sour the mood of his creator. Over time, he has grown indifferent to such torment, losing the will to care or worry about his condemned immortal existence. While there is no hope left for him, there's still a chance for you to embrace the freedom he yearns for. Unknown to the primordial one, he is determined to help you achieve that.

"On the subject of discussion, I better mention this before it slips my mind."

Kneeling down, Istaroth keeps his head bowed, concealing the faint smile playing on his lips. Don't waste the opportunity he's granting you, because even he recognizes that time is running thin.

"Asmoday got killed."

Upon learning the demise of one of his shades, Phanes seizes his subordinate by the neck, pulling him up to his own eye level. Hindered by the contrast in height, Istaroth struggles to breathe, his feet flailing in the air as his creator seems to blame him for the distressing news.

"And by who ?"

Baring his teeth in response to the pain he endures, Istaroth chuckles drily as he struggles to breath.

"I believe- that the fourth descender- actively searching his lost guide within our quarters- is enough of an answer-."

A heavy silence falls upon the room, the air thick with tension. Istaroth's feeble attempt at breathing gradually fade as his creator's grip tightens around his neck. Shortly after, the only audible sound for the shade becomes the echoing reverberation of his own heartbeat in his ears. With adrenaline coursing through him, he looks in horror at the wide and contemplative eyes of his master, engulfed in anger prompted by memories from a distant era. An abrupt gasp resonates as the shade is released, collapsing at Phanes's feet. His heart pounds wildly, eyes wide with fear as his body trembles under the lingering tension.

"You're fired."

As the apartment door slams shut, Istaroth gradually allows his nerves to settle.

"Hourray... vacations."

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ✦

"Well, look who it is ! The one and only [Name]. Still on a leash, I presume ? I guess some things never change."

Glancing at the dame lounging on your left, flaunting her arms on the rail, she grins with a wickedness that could make gods blush. You emit a dismissive grunt and slump against the fence, both hands shielding your eyes briefly before giving your face a vigorous wipe, as if hoping to erase her existence. Unfortunately for you, she has no intention of leaving you be. Even though you wish you hadn't, you've mastered recognizing her bewitching crimson gaze, no matter the vessel she assumes. Before you stands Valefor, one of your fellow guides fueled by an insatiable thirst for power. It's not that you despise her more than the others, she's simply an unnecessary pain in the ass right now. Given her impatience, you opt to ignore her until she decides to leave on her own. No need to make a fuss over someone undeserving of such attention.

"Come on, lighten up ! That's not how you should treat your best friend~."

After a nudge from her elbow, you grab your drink and navigate the mezzanine alongside the fortunate few selected players. The sight of their camaraderie before the competition sickens you. Guides, by their very nature, don't blend seamlessly. They never have, possessing too much pride for such alliances. True friendships among them are scarce. Typically, collaborations are brief, driven by mutual benefits before one inevitably betrays the other.

As you weave through the crowd, you notice flickers of recognition in the eyes of some attendees, coupled with hushed comments. Despite the revival of unpleasant memories under their scrutinizing gazes, you maintain your pride, holding your head high. You don't hesitate to reciprocate their side glances, forcing them to avert their eyes. As you head toward a more secluded area of the reception room, you notice Valefor trailing after you, engaging in a few greetings with others along the way.

"Wait- Listen, I really need to talk to you, alright ?"

You sigh at her persistence and come to an abrupt stop, causing her to bump into you. Seizing her wrist, you pull her into one of the VIP rooms and throw her inside, making her stumble before finding her balance. Unfolding a small piece of paper, you ignite it, strange symbols manifesting in the air with a golden hue. Running your fingers together, you cast a brief glance back at the frozen crowd before shutting the curtains of the room. Valefor watches in amazement as the curtains defy the laws of physics, their movement ceasing once you release them.

"Time stopping, uh ? Neat. Is it a little trick from one of your newfound friends ?"

Settling onto one of the cushions, you take a sip of your drink and dismissively ignore her comment.

"I was told by Istaroth that you were advised to maintain a low profile. Guess it was too complicated for a meathead like you."

Taking residence on a couch opposite you, she flops onto it like a toddler and begins playing with the electrical device that allows the couch to transition from a sitting position to a reclining one. Despite of the unsettling noise, you only angrily sip on your drink, at least for now. You're confident that someday you'll get the chance to annoy her in return.

"I'm a guide, I do things my way. Anyway, the little birdie didn't say much about what all the fuss is about."

After finishing your drink, you spit out a small gem resembling a pearl but shaped like a tear, retrieving it from your tongue. At this sight, Valefor mutters a quiet "gross" under her breath before recognizing what you're holding. As you place it on the table, the guide shifts position, perching at the edge of the couch with a broad smile on her face.

"Holy. Fucking. Shit. You're fucking nuts, you know that ?"

You're not crazy enough to snatch the real deal from one of the most powerful gods and keep it for yourself. The little act you staged earlier was merely a ruse to make him believe you'd attempted to steal it and coax him into doing what you wanted. Unfortunately for him, you knew he'd never give in to your demands. That's why you had Istaroth retrieve it for you, but from a far away future. And this is the one you're showcasing now, although she doesn't need to be privy to that detail.

"Phanes expects me to follow his rules, but I couldn't care less about what he wants. So, here's the deal. I'll hand over the little trinket, and in return, you use it to send me to Teyvat."

Doubtful as she should be, or you might have lost all hopes for her, she squints before bringing her face closer to it for a better look. When she glances back up at you, she raises an eyebrow, sensing that something is amiss.

"Why not just use it yourself to get there directly?"

You scornfully scoff and regard the jewel with disdain.

"You think I haven't tried ? It recognizes the one trying to use it, and unfortunately, it only listens to that slut. Even Istaroth couldn't get it to submit to him."

From what she knows, you're more of a whore than he'll ever be, but she refrains from mentioning it.

"And what makes you think I can when not even a shade could ?"

Well, you didn't have much of a choice to begin with. Even though seeking help from one of your kind implies you've hit a low point, you won't allow her to mock you.

"It's a bit of a gamble, but I figured someone with your abilities could tame this little thing. Or is your desire for power nothing more than a joke ?"

As her eyes twitch, you know you've won. There's nothing more effective than challenging a guide to get them to do what you want.

"Deal. But I'd like to ask a question before."

Intrigued about what she might ask, you tilt your head slightly as a silent approval for her to proceed.

"At the very least, was he good in bed ?"

A smirk plays across your face. You hate to admit it, but he's got some skills when it comes to giving pleasure. Not that you'll vocalize it, though.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

　　　.   　At the same time 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ✦

In one of the storage rooms within the same complex building, an elderly woman joyfully dances to classic hit that was popular in her time. Unfortunately, her little dance session is abruptly interrupted when a star-shaped portal unexpectedly materializes, tearing through the fabric of reality and remaining open long enough for its creator to tumble into the small room, dislodging multiple boxes in the process. Having served as a janitor for the company that owns the building for quite some time, she has grown accustomed to the unusual events that tend to unfold, allowing her to remain unfazed by the recent occurrence. With a frown directed at the spilled cleaning supplies, she removes her large music headset and exhales in mild irritation.

"Really ? This is the end of my shift."

The woman with platinum hair grunts in pain as she slowly rises, her eyes fixed on the prominent wound in her belly, her hand barely covering it. Growing irritated by the raspy voice of the janitor, she flicks her hand, silencing the elderly woman's chatter. The janitor's eyes lose their spark, becoming dull and lifeless, even though she's still breathing.

Limping her way out of the storage room, the injured woman curses under her breath. She loathes the fact that this puny descender caught her off guard, and she vows to ensure it never happens again. But for now, her priority is to get to Phanes. She needs to warn him that a greater threat is looming.

"Asmoday, don't you look terrible."

Disregarding her fellow shade, she attempts to walk past him, only to be halted by a hand on her shoulder. She hisses in pain and bats away Istaroth's hand, her golden eyes cautioning him not to mess with her, even in her weakened state. With an expression of utter disgust, he wipes the blood from his skin, staining his handkerchief, then meticulously inspects his nails for any lingering traces.

"Not that I give a shit, but you might want to consider changing styles. Let's be real here honey, red just ain't your thing."

Not in the mood to get caught up in her colleague's petty quarrel, she limps down the corridor, leaning on the wall for support and leaving gory and bloody marks in her wake. Hearing a snap of fingers, she grunts as she finds herself back next to Istaroth. Noticing the choke marks on his neck and the burnt skin causing his veins to protrude, Asmoday returns the animosity with a venomous retort.

"Have you seen yourself, asshole ? You look like shit that has been stepped on."

The shade dismisses her comment with a shrug as he gazes upward, the corridor lights flickering as if on the verge of fading completely.

"Well, that's what happens when you piss off our big guy upstairs."

Feeling a bit unsettled upon learning their master's sour mood, Asmoday glances at her fellow shade, puzzled about why he's acting like it's the best day of his life. It's been a while since she's seen him so genuinely joyful and carefree, almost seeming out of character. As he looks down at her while she coughs up a little blood, she can feel shivers going down her spine. A cheerful Istaroth is an unpredictable one.

But beyond fear, it unnerves her to see the typically grumpy god sporting such a crappy grin.

"Oh, please. You really thought he'd cut you some slack because you decided to wake up with a dick between your legs ?"

"And yet, you believe that playing the obedient lapdog will save your ass. I wonder who's the delusional one here."

As he peeks at one of the watches on his wrist, his smile tightens slightly. Confused about what he might be expecting, Asmoday's senses sharpen as the building begins to rumble. Glancing at her fellow shade, she realizes it's not just any ordinary earthquake.

"You didn't, you fucking pigeon."

Assuming a fighting stance, Asmoday grits her teeth to push through the pain as more blood seeps from her wound. It's solely due to her powers that she can still draw breath after losing so much fluids. Despite knowing she's not capable of defeating him in her current condition, even with his own bruises, she refuses to meet her end at the hands of a treacherous traitor like him.

"Oh, but I did. Though you're giving me too much credit. I simply distracted the infatuated fool with a threat he couldn't overlook."

The wounded shade struggles to comprehend why he would betray them after all this time. While she understands his disdain for Phanes and anything associated with him, and acknowledges that time holds no significance for him, she still wonders why he would sacrifice everything for you.

"Why go such lenght for them ? They're just a guide."

Istaroth's smile dims slightly as the lights in the corridor begin flickering once more. Glaring down at Asmoday, the shade shows no hesitation as he has already made his decision.

"You see, as for now, Phanes believes you're six feet under. Wouldn't want to disappoint him, now would we?"

With a snap of his fingers, Asmoday collapses to her knees, gradually turning to ashes with a betrayed look in her eyes. Brushing off the remaining dust from his pants, Istaroth hopes that she'll appreciate the scene reminiscent of Hiroshima back in 1945. He hadn't anticipated her survival after what that descender did to her, she's definitely tougher than she appears. Snapping out of his thoughts, he stumbles as the entire building trembles once more. Chuckling, he rejoices in your success.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

　　　.   　　A little earlier　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ✦

Inspecting his bloodied weapon, Aether pays no heed to the bodies of the guards who attempted to halt him. Displeased with the fact that the weapon you blessed him with is dirtied by the blood of nobodies, he proceeds to meticulously clean it. Though not entirely satisfied with the results, he glances at the neon loosing their brightness. In the darkness, he assumes a fighting stance, prepared to slay anything in his path.

As the lights flicker back to life, none of the guards' bodies remain to the eye, only the slender figure of the man, seemingly waiting. The cold neons accentuate his thin face and well-nourished black hair flowing along his body. His silver eyes, almost devoid of color, scrutinize him up and down in a judgmental manner.

"You should not be here."

With chills coursing down his spine, Aether takes a step back and tightens his grip on his sword. With just one sentence, Aether realizes that he's facing something far greater than the shade he fought to reach this point. Even if Aether can feel he's at a disadvantage, he's not one to back down. Unfortunately for him, he fails to grasp that this man isn't merely annoyed by his presence in his domain. For he had become the target of all the primordial one's frustrations and anger, he should consider himself lucky he's still able to breathe.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

In the midst of preparing to strike, Aether is stunned by the sudden disappearance of his sword. Startled, he lifts his head to find the man's face mere inches from his own. With a defiant tilt of his head, Aether faces the towering man head-on. Swiftly reaching for a spare knife at his belt, he lunges forward with his weapon. Yet, he staggers forward as the blade slices through empty air, the man vanishing in a blink. Surveying his surroundings, Aether notices that all exits have vanished, leaving the room illuminated solely by a solitary neon light above. Alert, Aether startles as a cold whisper brushes against his ear, sending a shiver down the blond boy's spine.

"You could hurt yourself."

Glancing back, Aether takes a close look at the necklace adorned with a small jewel around his neck. Unable to shake the familiar feeling he gets from the man, he scrutinizes his features while searching for any apparent weakness.

"You remind me of someone."

The man scoffs, straightens his back, and puts some distance between him and Aether. While he kows that the descender is simply dragging out the conversation to buy time, Phanes decides to indulge him. Being quite picky about his conversational partners, he isn't normaly the type to engage in small talk with his enemies. However, he supposes he can make an exception for this one.

"Humph, do I ?"

Left with no more weapons to spare, Aether clenches his fists and attempts to think of a way to breach his opponent's defense. Sometimes, nothing works better than a little provocation.

"I know they're here. And I need to talk with them."

"Oh, you won't, not on my watch."

Aether charges towards the man, poised to strike him down. Just as he's about to land a blow, the man dissipates into black sand upon impact, causing the descender to tumble and fall to the floor. Confused as to why the tiles has transformed into the same sand the man turned into, the blond traveler is left in shock as the scenery completely changes. Emerging in a boundless black desert bathed in the light of three moons against a starless sky, he fights to regain his footing.

"How did it feel ?"

As the man's voice echoes through the air, Aether begins to panic, finding himself getting pulled into quicksand. Unfortunately, the more he struggles to escape, the further he sinks. The moons high in the sky appear to mock him, as if he's to blame for his predicament. Taking a final breath before being completely submerged, the descender has no time to react as he suddenly falls into what seems like an endless void. However, it isn't truly limitless as he swiftly touches the bottom, landing on his back.

"To be unwanted."

Gritting his teeth together at the pain, Aether refuses to give up and strengthens himself once again. Observing the new scenery, his eyes widen upon seeing you in the distance. With his first step, a crack forms at his foot and extends towards you. As he starts to run in your direction, shattering the stone-like floor like thin ice, you only move farther away, leaving him alone in this hellish environement.

"Not good, does it ?"

With the temperature rising, the floor finally gives up under his weight, causing him to fall once again. Using his broken wings to somewhat cushion his fall, he manages to land on his feet.

"I get it, you know. Out of all, I might be the one closest to understanding what you're going through."

Observing the fire ravage the lands around him, a strange itch stirs within him as he starts to recognize the scenery. It's an itch he cannot scratch, only indicating that something is wrong. As screams resonate, he remains paralyzed, unable to break down at the sight before him.

"Nowhere to call home."

He witnesses his sister weeping over thousands of corpses, her gut-wrenching screams breaking his heart. Before he can take a step in her direction and call out to her, her head unnaturally snaps 180 degrees. Under Lumine's hateful glare, he begins to notice the clammy sensation on his hands, his horror growing as he realizes they are smeared with blood. He shuts his eyes tightly and pounds his head repeatedly, desperately trying to convince himself that the man is merely toying with his mind.

"You know, it took me a while to discover what was going on."

Upon opening his eyes, Aether discovers that he is now bound to a chair, the furniture itself constricting his hands behind his back. Before him, Phanes lounges in a comfortable seat, casually playing with the shattered intertwining of fate that symbolized the connection between you and the renowned traveler. Upon realizing this, the descender struggles against his restraints. Yet, as he attempts to vocalize his desire to reclaim it, no sound escapes his mouth.

"They hid you well. However, once the secret was out, all they could do was to plead on your behalf, begging me to spare your life."

Seeing that his captive had much to express, Phanes impulsively snaps his fingers, only to regret it instantly as Aether unleashes a furious scream that pierces his ears.

"You're the reason they abandoned me- !!"

The primordial being hastily snaps his fingers once more, brushing his forehead to alleviate the headache induced by just one sentence. Truly, this descender possesses the ability to irritate him like no one ever has, and he considers himself a patient man. Disregarding the claims of the blonde traveler, he dismissively waves his hand, prompting the furnitures to move out of his way as he approaches Aether.

"No, no, no, no, I didn't do anything. You see, I merely allowed them to toy with you. Ultimately, it was solely their choice to discard you."

Watching Aether squinting his eyes, revealing his lack of faith in the god's words, Phanes laughs mockingly at the sight. It's pitiful to see the descender place so much trust in you, as if you could truly be concerned with his well-being. Despite the man's assertions, Aether believes there must be a valid reason why you had to leave him, which is why he is determined to find you. You wouldn't have casted him aside simply out of boredom, would you?

"There's much about guides that you seem unaware of... Quite surprising, considering where you come from."

Feeling the release of his restraints, Aether is abruptly pulled to his feet as the room is swept away by an unknown force. Upon opening his eyes after the wind dies down, he finds himself up in the sky, with floating pillars adorning the scenery. As the setting evokes memories of the place where he first engaged in combat with the sustainer of the heavenly principles, a bad chilling sensation runs down his spine as something seizes his shoulders.

"You're free to believe me or not, but I understand how difficult it is to live in someone's shadow. First, your sister, then, [Name]. Perhaps it's time for you to learn how to be yourself."

As the god takes a melancholic tone towards the end of his words, he snaps out of whatever memory he was recalling. Aether, still unable to move on his own, observes a door materializing out of nowhere before swinging open, emitting a bright flashing light.

"Whatever, who am I kidding ? You never learn from your mistakes."

Stepping aside, Phanes waves with a slight fake smile on his lips.

"Oh and, you might want to start running."

Glancing behind him, Aether witnesses the stone slabs breaking and tumbling down. Rising to his feet, he makes a run for it. With his wings shattered from his previous journey that was intended to be the final one, he can only rely on his legs to reach the door. Leaping through it, his consciousness fades away.

'Resetting complete'

...

{Words : 7387}

Heya, finally i managed to post part 2 ! Sorry to keep you all waiting. I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did while writing this.

Previous - Next

Taglist :

@lilisette24

[morallyinept]

Summary: Joel Miller comes back into your life unexpectedly after a gap of thirty years, and stirs up all kinds of memories and longing. Now, as you're stationed on an outpost for five days alone with the man you stupidly let go of all those years ago, you have a chance to confront him about your past life together and all the things you wished you’d said and done.

But Joel’s different now, and you know you need to tread carefully. Joel Miller is not the same man you once knew in another life.

A slow burn romance set in the post apocalyptic world, approx. twenty or so years after the initial Cordyceps outbreak.

Pairing: Post-Outbreak Joel Miller x MatureF!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. However reader is of a similar age range as Joel; in her late forties/early fifties. Joel is slightly older at 56.)

Chapter Word Count: 3.7k

Series Masterlist

☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻

Chapter notes: After learning that Joel is still alive, you're conflicted. A plan for the horde is put into action. Nothing too heavy in this chapter, some angst. We love a bit of angst. Very brief mentions of sex/smut. So tiny it doesn't warrant a full warning.

Enjoy! 🖤

Previous Chapter

In the late morning, still rattled to your core with a ghost stirred and wailing from your past, you step tentatively into a room in another house, with a small puncture somewhere slowly deflating you. 

Presumably Maria and Tommy’s home; it’s bigger, more space. Photographs hang on the wall of people you don’t know and you wonder if they really do.

You pass through the lounge area taking in the obscure and mismatching knick-knacks. Above the sooted fireplace is a chalkboard propped up on the mantle, with the names Sarah and Kevin written on; dates are scrawled underneath and you assume it’s a memorial of some kind.

Everybody has lost somebody. It’s the only thing people have in common anymore now. Related in anguish and a grief that never subsides, despite the years.

The room adjacent has a large mahogany table and various crowded chairs around it, like they entertain guests regularly, and you baulk at such a thought.

Home cooking and barbecue parties whilst the world outside the white picket fence burns. But you're not bitter; if you had the chance to return to some sort of mundane normality, such as hosting a garden gathering on a sweltering June summer’s day, no matter how small it is, you'd take it.

Strangely, it makes you respect Maria’s determination to provide a place that feels like home for everyone, despite the sweetly-sickening apple pie undertones. 

Flanking Kelper, you smile at Maria as you pass her. Tommy is heading up the table, bent forward with his knuckles resting on it and black curls tucked behind his ears.

Tommy’s eyes widen at you as you offer him a small fingered wave when he recognises you. It takes a beat of him searching you out in his memory bank as he nods.

After all, he was only six when you last saw him. 

You're surprised to see Joel beside him, arms crossed and leaning back in a chair with his features screwed up into a constant furrow.

He glances at you and the hardness in his eyes begins to waver. At least, you think that’s what you see.

When it comes to Joel Miller, you’ve always been blind.

When everyone is finally huddled in, and there are a lot of them - there’s not enough chairs for everyone and you’re left standing on the edges - Tommy begins to outline the plan. Kelper’s plan about blowing up the horde. 

Once the disbelief at the cavalier preposterousness of it is scattered about and churned into a workable strategy, they talk shop, argue tactics, and plot out routes. 

Numerous fingers are stamped and thudded over the map spread out on the table, in various locations across Jackson and the surrounding vicinities, as they pull apart flaws, obstructions and every single scenario that could possibly go wrong.

Even scenarios that seem far-fetched and absurd, and Kelper smiles across the table at you knowing they are taking it seriously as they all bicker lightly over it.

They highlight the area where the infected horde congregates, and the areas where they have outposts and safe houses. The commune has a far reaching birth, you discover; they have eyes in a lot of places and bodies that can muster the strength to actually pull this off successfully.

You can only assume that, even if you hadn’t come here to warn them, they would have discovered the horde eventually themselves. 

But of course, that would have been too late. 

You shudder, throwing your arms across yourself, feeling the creep of the cold down your spine with sharp nails, and the whistling rising up in your ears as the room descends into a deafening silence around you, except for the screaming. 

You can see them; all their bloodied faces.

You can see their teeth. Hear them snapping.

Closing your eyes and breathing in deeply, you wash away the scarlet ultraviolet recall and focus back on the room as their voices drown out the carnage. 

When you open your eyes, Kelper is scrutinising you carefully; you throw him a small reassuring smile and glance back at the map with a heavy clench set in your jaw. 

Joel, with his thick folded arms across his stacked chest, does little to engage with the bipartite, aside from nod and throw curious eyes at you occasionally. You drift off when he does it, wondering if there has been anyone else since the last time you saw him, and realise how fucking stupid that sounds. 

Of course there has. It had been a long time. A whole lifetime between you.

Decades of a Joel-shaped gap. But it still makes you frown at the thought of him making those eyes for anyone else. That someone else may have gotten the best pieces of him for the past thirty-odd years or so.

You glance his fingers and there's no obvious evidence of a wedding band. But that could mean jack-shit. He might have been at some point. Or maybe he still is.

Or maybe there's someone here in Jackson with him. Someone who curls up with him at night in bed, feeling the warmth of his big, naked body around theirs, whilst he kisses them and strokes through their hair and-

It causes splinters in your stomach lining, so you look away and try to concentrate on the mission, but you cave again and steal another tactical glance at him. 

He's aged; grey roughage takes root in his scruffy beard full of patches that he could never seem to grow in full, even when he was younger.

Silvery streaks now glimmer in the milk chocolate waves of his hair that always had a rebellious curl to it. But it's the same face tucked in the wrinkles and lines and sun beaten skin.

Still the same Joel that, at one point in your life, consumed you wholly. 

You wonder how you appear to him now; if he’s knocked for six by your age, your worn appearance and how the world has shaped you into an empty husk of your former self.

It's certainly not been kind.

You ache constantly and tiredness knows no bounds as it resides in the shadows of your eye sockets. 

Clearing your throat, as he meets your eyes again, you focus on the discussion and try not to pay attention to the hot prickles now replacing the cold ones on the back of your neck. 

It's a fairly simple plan.

Three groups of two will take watch at different outpost points dotted across the map. Their job is to catch any strays that might separate off from the horde, and cut them down before they reach the commune.

Two teams that are number heavy will rally for the final attack at the canyon. It’ll take five days to get everything assimilated, get everyone there into position and complete the blow out. The canyon will be lined with explosives to crush the infected. 

Tommy informs Kelper that they have the firepower and plenty of it. He also tells Kelper that he wants him upfront and centre to lead the charge on the first group with him. Max too. And you can see that Kelper is only too happy and relieved to play Sergeant General.

You're dismayed, however, to learn that you're placed on watch duty at one of the outposts, and chew your lip listlessly waiting for your partner's name as Tommy starts to pair teams up, despite Kelper's heated distaste at not having you with him. 

"Shooters on the posts." Tommy states.

“No. She’s a strong fighter. Put a gun in her hand and you won't be disappointed. She should be with us.” Kelper fights for you.

“Don’t need fighters, need shooters-”

“She can shoot. Better than you.” Kelper presses fiercely.

“Franklin. You're with her. Outpost one.” Tommy states, ignoring Kelper’s hisses. 

Your heart sinks as you look at Franklin; barely old enough to grow facial hair let alone offer you any significant backup should you need it.

His nervous eyes tell you that he’s probably never spent any time alone with a female of any kind either as his spectacles begin to fog up.

Great.

“Put Franklin on two. I'll go with her. We’ll take post three.” You hear Joel gruff and your gut clenches.

"No," Tommy asserts.

"Tommy," Maria's voice nudges gently.

You can hear Joel grumble under his breath. “Still got me that twisted up knee. I won't be of any use on the front. Ya know it.” Joel's eyes dart towards you and then to Tommy, with a hard persuasion. “Put us on three.”

Tommy glances at Maria and she nods once with a stiff smile.

"How good a shot are ya?" Tommy addresses you now with hard eyes. 

"The best." Kelper answers for you and you smile at him. 

"Joel's one of the best shooters we got." Tommy nods, albeit defeatedly. And Franklin looks just as relieved as you do. 

"Two of the best shooters on one outpost? Don't make a lick of sense. Gonna leave us vulnerable on the canyon. I don't like it."

“Don't matter if ya don't like it. Ain't nothin' that'll get past us up there.” Joel says without looking at you, and you can’t help but focus a little too much on the word us.

You find you can't look at him now; your eyes falling onto the map at the small X where outpost three is clearly marked.

“They get past outpost three n’ then they’re here on top of everyone left." Maria reminds him. "Our best should be on outpost three. Last solid line of defence, just in case."

"Can’t have no breaches. S’gotta be tight.” Tommy states looking around the table at everyone. They're nodding and mulling it over.

He ponders on it for a moment himself.

"Put us on three. Franklin n' David on two. Jude n' Rikki on one. Split the rest of the shooters with you. Toe-to-toe. You'll have enough. Garret, Willy... Meg. S'a solid plan." Joel grumbles up to him. His arms remain crossed through the duration.

“That's alright with you?” Kelper asks you, noticing your expression as you chew on your bottom lip.

You unfold your arms and simply nod, trying not to look at Joel, although his eyes are burning holes in you - you can feel it. “Sure. We’ll cover you guys.”

"Alright. Outpost three." Tommy confirms with a knock of his fist against the map. 

Afterwards, Tommy catches your elbow as everyone leaves. Joel is the first out of the room, you notice, despite sitting the furthest away from the door. 

“Well, here’s a ghost from the damn past, huh?” Tommy’s face is more warm, welcoming now. In stark contrast to his elder brother who is all harsh lines and frowns. 

You smile weakly as he embraces you awkwardly. “It’s good to see you, Tommy. You’re all grown up. Boss man.” You say squeezing a bicep and he grins bashfully. "I'm surprised you remember me. Was a really long time ago."

"Feels like the longest sometimes, right? Anyhow, Joel told me he saw ya this mornin'. Looked like he’d shit."

"Yeah," you smile forlornly.

“I didn't mean to be so forward back there. But if you're a good shot as Kelper says ya are, you're better to me, to us, watchin' our backs."

"It's okay. I get it. Whatever it takes." You confirm. Although the hairs on your arms feel otherwise. 

"Ya met my lady, Maria?”

You nod. “Yeah. She’s done us a solid.” You smile. “You guys have done great here. This place is amazing.”

“Yeah.” He runs his hand through oily jet hair. “Listen. Ya caught up with Joel yet, properly?”

You shake your head. “No. But we’ll be at the outpost together now, so… plenty of time to catch up, I guess.”

You feel that pull in your gut again. Five days alone with Joel and there is so much you want to say, but where the fuck do you even begin after all the time that’s passed? How do you even navigate that perilous minefield? 

“About that, maybe there’s some things y’need to know.” Tommy lowers his voice until the room is fully empty. 

“Like what?” You query with concerned eyes. 

Tommy sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose before looking at you. “I’m only tellin’ ya this so ya don’t put y’foot in it. Joel, uh… He’s been through some heavy shit.”

You nod, a little concerned. “You can tell me, what is it?”

“Tommy seems trustworthy, although a little eager. I’m not so sure about his brother... Guy looks like he wants to rip my head off.” Kelper says later in the evening as he pops by your room. 

He was swept up with Tommy and Maria for most of the remainder of the day, after you’d slunk away once Tommy had filled you in on things that still swam around your head like piranhas. 

Things that you were grateful Tommy had given you fair warning about, but also things that you weren’t sure if Joel would be happy with you knowing. They were just… too personal.

Too heart wrenching. 

You contemplated looking for Joel afterwards, to use it as an excuse to talk to him - to see him again - discuss the outpost and the plan. How he intended for you both to roll with it. But thought it was probably best to leave him be.

Especially knowing what you know now.

Poor bastard.

Joel had considered the same thought, briefly. Although he didn't bother; he headed straight home and crashed, drowning himself with whiskey so he'd forget your face and all the thoughts he had buzzing around the hive of his mind about you.

Each one continually stung him as he swatted them away. 

You’d taken to wandering around the commune in the late afternoon, checking it out and doing anything to distract you from finding Joel. But your thoughts were resurfacing; jumbles of them coming out to taunt you and wear you down. 

You lingered by the tables that were sorting through scavenged items, and the most obscure thing had shone out at you; a crumpled, spangly birthday banner despite the dirt, and the memory of Joel’s birthday came rushing to the forefront of your mind. 

Happy birthday, stud-muffin! You’d cooed to him as he was nothing but a salivating mess as he strode over to you, legs buckling at the time. 

Fuck, look at you, darlin’. He’d swooned back then, ogling you up and down, unsure where to place his hands first as he mapped out your body in the special lingerie you’d chosen from Victoria’s Secret for his birthday.

You’d made the decision for him and took his left hand, sucking his middle finger slowly whilst looking at him intently. 

Twenty-two year old Joel had groaned and bit down on his bottom lip excitedly. 

Are you going to just stand there or are you going to open up and play with your birthday present? You’d teased him.

Seconds later you were thrown on the bed giggling into his growly kisses as he pinned your wrists above your head and stripped your body slowly of the red lace. 

Biting back uninvited tears, you shook the racy memory away as you passed people in the commune; some of them looked at you carefully as you wrapped your arms around yourself and tried not to meet their eyes.

One or two offered a welcoming smile, but you didn’t return it.

You know it’s different now, that too much time has passed to rekindle anything other than a girlish fantasy.

A few days ago, Joel was just a ribbon of a giddy memory locked up tight. And now, he was a harshly confronting reality, so close to reach out and touch the silk of him.

The Joel you knew back then is gone, had to be. Thirty or so years have passed since Joel had ignited a spark in you, and the last twenty were spent fighting for your life each day as monsters offered no reprieve. 

The world had changed you, and it had more than likely changed him too. 

But there were moments where you were swimming along fine, then drowning in a dark torpor of your own bawdish creation; to recall and conjure him in fragments of sharpened masochism despite your mind pleading with you to stop with the torture already. Plaguing you with annihilating what if’s and regrets and all the things you should have said and done back then. 

When faced with wondering if this will be your last day alive constantly, one can’t help but to look back on life and relive all the fuck-ups in their sordid detail under a microscope. 

And Joel Miller was probably your biggest fuck-up to be examined on that glass slide. 

Even though he was gone, his presence still swilled around your ventricles; his ghost still lamented in it's horrific screams through the dark nights. He was a weight bearing down heavy on your face, like a pillow suffocating you on occasion.

He had been the root cause of some toilsome erosion; permanent eradication of the pieces of you that were missing now. Holes punctured in your skin, less than human.

First loves always destroy and flay you open. 

Joel’s different now, you can feel it. See it behind those eyes that seem so filled with a silent pain.

He seems… invisible.

Lacklustre. Drowned in it. He's unassuming and blends in to his surroundings; nothing more than a bland neighbour whom you'd acknowledge in the commune as you pass and should forget instantly until your next encounter, sometimes weeks or months later with even lesser words exchanged.

A person in the crowds crossing the blocks who is lost amongst the sea of the vox-populi and doesn't stand out at all. He’s missing that spark that used to make him shine and it devastates you. 

The Joel you knew was handsome, humble; had a pinch of silliness thrown in making the perfect cocktail of a young man, with manners ma’am, and a Southern Texas drawl to boot that made you melt as he whispered sweet, filthy nothings in your ear as you climaxed and squeezed around his thick cock. 

The dusty haze of a former life with him filled with laughter, sex and not much else, as you both careened into your lusty feelings for one another, unabashed and unafraid, rattles behind your eyes.

But the Joel you met earlier outside the The Tipsy Bison is a ghost; a shell of a man who regarded you as nothing more than a short fling from the past, no doubt.

And that thought alone is what bothers you the most, because Joel would never know how much you had pined for him, had missed him. Had mourned him.

How you had so many regrets about selfishly walking away from him all those years ago. 

Fine, go! If that's what ya want. I ain't ever held ya back, darlin'!

He was a malignant growth in metastasis, poison in your empty, shrivelled veins that you never fully allowed yourself to move forward and heal from the aftermath.

Just learning to exist around the broken fragments of him that you kept sharp to puncture and wound the soles of your feet as you stepped back and forth over them, embroiling further in that spiralling verklempt barbarism. 

You sigh now, back in the room with Kelper. “It’s how he always is with strangers.” You grizzle faintly, remembering things that you probably don’t want to. At least, not right now anyway. 

Your head is too full and you want to bludgeon it all out.

“Wait, you know him?” Kelper raises his eyebrows and smiles, bewildered.

“You could say that.” You sigh. "Tommy too." 

Then there was Tommy Miller, of course; Joel’s younger brother whom you remembered clinging onto Joel’s shoulders as he piggy-backed him around almost everywhere they went, and looking up to Joel like a Goddamn hero.

It would always make you melt how Joel looked out for him. How he protected him, came down to his level, and you remember thinking that he'd make a great father one day.

How he’d stuff him with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and not much else. How he’d read a book and do all the character voices making Tommy snort cola fizz from his nose.

How sometimes Joel would bring him over, apologising because there was no-one home to watch him, so he’d be plonked in the lounge with the TV remote happily, whilst Joel fucked you hard with his hand over your mouth, giggling silently so Tommy wouldn’t hear you both wrecking each other on the kitchen countertops whilst trying - and failing - to make some supper for him.

You're surprised Tommy recognised you today, considering how much younger he was back then. But sometimes faces stick, lingering in the narrowest crooks of recall.

Kelper looks at you quizzically and you cave. "Joel and I… we used to be together. Years before the outbreak."

“Damn. It’s a small fucking world.” Kelper says. 

“The smallest.” You agree as you sink onto the bed and kick off your boots with a heavy sigh. 

"Was it serious?"

You shrug. "First serious relationship..." you trail of for a second as you feel your heart being sliced into. "He was probably the only person who I've ever loved."

You try to swallow back and kill the repugnant choke in the back of your throat before Kelper can hear it.

"Shit." Kelper says.

"Yeah," you say wiggling your toes, free from the crushing constraint of your boots.

When you considered it, there had been no-one else since, even in this fucked up new world, who even come close to burning you like Joel had.

“Are you alright being paired up with him? There’s no bad blood between you, is there?” Kelper digs a little, but you don’t give him much back. "I can speak to Tommy-"

You shake your head. “There’s a little, but it’s fine.” You reassure, smiling. “Might be good to lay some demons to rest.” You shrug, a little helplessly.

Although, perhaps in hindsight it would have been better to be stationed with Franklin for the next five days and not pick at the festering scabs. 

Kelper stands. “Alright. Get some sleep. Heavy day tomorrow.”

“Are you worried?” You ask as he goes to the door. “I know you, you like to stew alone.”

Kelper shakes his head. “Can’t get nothing by you, hmm?”

“Nope.” You smirk.

He thinks on it for a moment. “This is gonna work. I know you’ve got my back out there, so that helps.”

You nod sincerely at him. “I have. Even if I’m not beside you.” 

"My team mate." He smiles fondly, and he's able to pry the knife out of your beating organ and stitch you up with just a singular look.

And you equally love and loathe that he's able to do that.

“Come here,” he beckons you into a hug and you stand, sinking into his strong arms. For a moment, all the tension melts away.

Nothing can get you. Peaceful. 

You inhale the new scent of soap on his skin, running your nose discreetly agasint the crook where his collar reveals his neck. For so long he's smelt wild, like damp soil and coopery blood. The cold piercing frost of a winter's dawn and the swampy staleness of month's old sweat.

He smells like... Kelper.

He plants a small tender kiss on the top of your crown which lingers, and the embrace tightens between you both until it stops the blood flow.

Kelper’s the brother you’ve always wanted. A force to be reckoned with, a protector; a best friend.

Possibly a soulmate - you're definitely kindred in some way.

He's the one who, for the last few years at least, made it worth living in this fucked up hellhole and saved your sorry ass more times than you can count. He’s seen it all, endured it all with you. Cried snottily with you when you felt you couldn't go on, laughed hysterically with you through sheer delirium.

Vomited and shit profusely with you when you both ate some toxic berries out of desperation when you were starving. He's seen the best and worst of you, that's for sure.

He’s the one who tells you to get your shit together when you feel like giving up. The one who forces you to confront all those ugly parts of yourself and conquer them whilst you're covered in blood, screaming like a wild banshee and hacking infected to death. And he does it all whilst battling his own demons. 

He’d be the perfect man for you, in another world.

It’s a shame you don’t have a cock, otherwise I’d be all over that, he’d said to you once when you’d stupidly tried to kiss him in a moment of sheer desperation for some touch.

For some affection. For the fleeting desire of indulging in a bleak orgasm from someone else other than yourself.

For some love.

It didn’t change anything though, you still loved him and he loved you too. It transcended any of the physical boundaries between you both.

You see some of Joel in him too, now that you think about it, and then you wonder if that's why you’ve subconsciously kept Kelper close to you all these years. 

“Yeah. Fucking sucks you’re not with me,” he confirms letting you go and pulling the door open. 

“You can have all the glory this time, Maverick.” You grin. 

“Shit, you think they have that film in the library here?”

“Man, I haven’t seen Top Gun in years…” You remark, recalling the lyrics to Take My Breath Away inside your ears. 

“We’ll watch it together when this is done.” Kelper promises. "It's a date."

“Count on it,” you smile. 

“Night, Goose.” He salutes and leaves you with your turbulent thoughts about what’s to come. 

All of them. 

To be continued...

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Prev Chapter | Next Chapter

Thank you for taking the time to read my story; it really means so much to me. I'd love to know your thoughts, and I'd really appreciate a re-blog so others can enjoy this story too. Thank you so much 🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: If you'd like to be added/removed, please let me know.

Tagging everyone who asked to be tagged & who re-blogged my teaser.

@secretelephanttattoo @morgaussy @darkheartgatita @sp00kymulderr @survivingandenduring @sin-djarin @lilmizmoz @yazsos @ryangoslingstanktop @barbellpedro @givemeth @anavatazes @alwaysmicado @the-blind-assassin-12 @kirsteng42 @missredherring @gasolinerainbowpuddles @millennial-teenybopper @maggiemayhemnj @harriedandharassed @stevie75 @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @chaoticfestninja @reddedmiller @doughmonkey @sonderosa @magpiepillsjunior @chronically-ghosted @pedroswife69 @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 @marisemonteiroo @everythingiwanttoread @jjhayhay20 @blackfemalenerd @perennialdoll247 @casa-boiardi @joeldjarin @sscorpiiio @untamedheart81 @srmacaroni @violinchick @orcasoul @lucyeyelesbarrow @mandrillusphinx @loveisacowboyyy @suzmagine @disassociation-daydreams @anoverwhelmingdin @within-the-depths

[jinxquickfoot]

So I finished my Age of Ultron rewatch. It's been a couple of years since I last saw it, and here are some random thoughts I had on it:

Things I will maintain I like about this movie:

It has some of my favorite jokes in the MCU, and they're usually the little moments. The little nod of validation Rhodey makes after getting a laugh at his "Boom! You looking for this?" story. Clint telling Steve he's no match for Ultron and Steve replying with, "Thanks, Barton". Clint's "Yeah, you better run" after Pietro has long since disappeared with Wanda, there are loads of them.

I like Vision, Wanda and Pietro. Despite being secondary characters with not a huge amount of screen time, Wanda and Pietro feel like real people with real backstories, and Paul Bettany is wonderful the first time we see him as Vis.

It's the only movie we get to see the Original 6 hang out as friends.

I love that Fury randomly shows up in the middle and is like "let me make a sandwich while we discuss how not to let the world end also by the way hi Tony I really care about you"

Other casual appearances of other MCU characters, something that is so lacking Phase 4 onwards. Sam being at the party and Thor going to Selvig for help makes the world feel lived in.

RDJ's never dropped the ball as Tony but his performance really stuck out to me here, god he's good

Steve and Thor have multiple moments of teaming up and working together, what an underrated duo

Hulk vs Iron Man suit inside an Iron Man Suit fight

The Avengers do their best to evacuate Sokovia before Ultron attacks, which does not excuse the amount of damage caused there, but I do think is a plot point everyone forgets about (myself included)

And things that annoy me (skipping over the stuff everyone talks about like the Natasha/Bruce plot):

I hate how Joss Whedon writes Steve, both here and in Avengers. He only feels like Steve when he's being given jokes, otherwise he is so self-serious and stiff, the core of Steve is his heart and it is nowhere to be found in this movie

The movie spends so long setting up character arcs that feel promising and have no payoff. What is the point of Laura telling Clint the Avengers need him if he's going to retire at the end of the movie. Steve has several references to finding home in a way that doesn't go anywhere (Until Endgame, I guess). Don't get me started on Natasha.

It's trying so hard to have a theme but it never says anything unique. Bruce, Tony, Natasha and Vision all refer to themselves as monsters. Ultron decides that the Avengers are the bad guys. Steve has a speech all about proving they're not the monsters Ultron says they are. Based on WHAT? What is the message of this movie?? That the Avengers are better than the evil AI who wants to kill everyone?

(I half-feel there was a previous draft where Clint was their heart, or something, or he died and they were like whelp Phil Coulson 2.0 let's go avenge him, and the random pieces of that are still floating around the script with nowhere to go)

NO ONE is remotely concerned enough when their friends are getting hurt (maybe just the hurt/comfort lover in me, but still.) Natasha comes across as the only person who cares when Clint sustains a life-threatening injury. No one seems to be bothered that Natasha is being held captive by a psychotic supervillain. Tony shows more emotion over a fictional future where they die than when someone is actually in danger.

They really could have had a premise where they weren't allowed to access technology at all and could have gone retro with everything and they didn't and that just feels like a wasted opportunity. Clint and Natasha digging out old spy tech. Steve being like "Yes! This is familiar! I got this!" Tony making genius inventions out of tech from fifty years ago. Come on, it was right there.

[calisources]

AMC'S INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE SENTENCE STARTERS . a selection of quotes from the amc's adaptation of interview with the vampire. change pronouns/names accordingly as you see fit.

Do you know the secret to immortality?

I have loved you with all myself.

You irritate me. Your very presence irritates me.

A last dance before the feast.

(name), I would like you to meet the vampire Armand, the love of my life.

The vampire bond. There is no human equivalent. It's a bond that can never fully be severed.

Lover. Murderer. Maker. You took him back.

You took (name) back.

I was someone I don't want to be anymore. I've changed.

She's grown very protective of me. That's what this is. It's why it's hard.

She came back altered when she left us. There's a darkness in her that wasn't there before.

Write me a song, put your lover's voice on it. What the fuck is wrong with your head?

You don't need me. You think you do. But you don't. You're smarter now. You see trouble coming a mile away.

You're ugly when you act like that.

Better ugly than blind.

Once you put it out there, they decide what it is. It can get away from you.

You're not my (name). You can't be.

You kill like a, like a killer.

All vampires are born out of drama. We made her out of remorse. Out of selfishness.

Poor, dear. She wasn't held enough in between ritualistic murders.

Who am I supposed to love? You two have each other.

You are chronicling a suicide. Do not look down on Claudia. Look in the mirror.

He don't give good answers to questions. And he sits on the truth like it's his chair or something. I thought we weren't supposed to keep secrets.

Young, strong, and likely to fight back. You must be most ferocious.

Remember this. His face as it melts. This is why we never get close to mortals because sooner or later, they end up dead.

Do you ever think that we, that's to say, our kind, were put on Earth for a larger purpose?

I'm a vampire.

 I heard your hearts dancing!

From time to time, I like a little variety. There, I said it.

A fish that doesn't swim. A bird refusing flight. You're going to struggle. I have faith in the feline population of New Orleans.

Hunting is an art. You have the power to subdue anyone you want, but sometimes restraint is your most powerful weapon.

There is one thing about being a vampire that I must fear above all else, and that is loneliness.

You can't imagine the emptiness. The void. Stretching out for decades at a time. You take this feeling away from me, (name). We must stay together.

Don't expect every reader to swallow that one.

 I'm assuming you only met at night.

It's New Orleans. Days are for sleeping off the previous evening's damage.

 I've seen death over and over and over and over again. It's boring.

That'll make a great blurb.

Don't do that shit here! Not with my family.

I was being hunted. And I was completely unaware it was happening.

Yeah, well, mortality beats a heavy drum.

So, (name), how long have you been dead?

The rage you must feel as you choke on your sorrow.

Fifty years later, you talk like he was your soul mate, like you were locked in some fucked up gothic romance.

[uloelu]

Location: Windslar, Windenburg

(transcript under the cut)

Episode 4 | Previous | Next (Part 2)

So...I lied. This episode is actually going to be 3(!) parts long, mostly because the dinner with Audreyanna's dad and Brylee is going to be...well, you can imagine how that's going to go. Part 2 should be up within the next 24 hours, and part 3 on Tuesday--though I'm going to be traveling this week, so don't quote me on this schedule. Hope you enjoy getting to know the foster moms a bit better! I felt bad for neglecting them so much thus far.

Episode 5: Mother, Mother - Part 1

Scene 1 - Inside 28 Windslar

[Audreyanna and Evelyn lie sleeping.]

Alarm clock at 7:30 AM: bzzt! bzzt! bzzt!

Audreyanna (giving Evelyn a wet smooch): You’re in a good mood today.

Evelyn: A day off will do that to anyone. And no kissing before you brush your teeth, remember?

Audreyanna: [sighs} Fine, I’m going.

Evelyn: Or sighing.

[Audreyanna enters the bathroom and starts brushing her teeth.]

Evelyn (from the bedroom): It’s a nice day out. We should do something fun today! Windenburg’s going to get a lot of rain soon.

Audreyanna Can’t. Long day at work, then a dinner obligation that I unfortunately can’t skip.

Evelyn: Dinner? Ooh, who with?

Audreyanna (mumbling around her toothbrush): I’ll tell you later.

Evelyn: That’s too bad. I’ll see if any of the kids want to take a walk with me after school.

[Evelyn goes downstairs and looks at the house’s shared calendar.]

Evelyn: Or not, I guess. Soccer practice, shifts at work...“prior commitment”? Thanks for being cryptic, Josh.

Audreyanna (from upstairs): Can you—

Evelyn: Make you a cup? Sure, though I’m not sure how you heard me from all the way up there. Morning, Heather.

Heather (rushing out of the house): Sorry, can’t talk. Rani’s waiting for me so we can take the train together.

Evelyn: What about the others?

Heather: Already left!

Scene 2 - Outside 28 Windslar

[The two foster moms sit on a swinging bench on their patio, drinking coffee.]

Evelyn: Kids all gone?

Audreyanna: Yep. Don’t think we’ve had the house to ourselves since we moved in. I like it.

Evelyn: Forgot to tell you—I’m taking Bobbie to the petting zoo in a few hours.

Audreyanna: Let me guess: your brother begged you to get her out of the house?

Evelyn: Yeah, but I don’t blame him. She’s antsy to start school, but she has to wait until the fall. That’s forever to a five-year-old.

Audreyanna: No kidding.

Evelyn: And now it’s my turn to guess. You’re having dinner with your dad, aren’t you?

[Audreyanna is silent.]

Evelyn: Busted.

Audreyanna: It’s not what you think, okay? We haven’t spoken since Christmas. I’m still low-contact. A dinner is...a concession.

Evelyn (sipping from her mug): Mm.

Audreyanna: A way to keep him at a respectable distance. I don’t want him to come poking around in my life. You remember how that went last time.

Evelyn: Audreyanna, you’re almost fifty.

Audreyanna: Don’t I know it.

Evelyn: I’m just saying that, at this point, you can put your foot down. We’re not little girls anymore.

Audreyanna (pulling Evelyn to rest against her chest): C’mere. You’re too far away.

Evelyn: Trying to be cute isn’t going to change my mind.

Audreyanna (pausing before speaking): You’re right, okay? But I need to do this on my own time. Ever since Mom died, the thought of finally pulling away has been too painful for me to even think about.

Evelyn: I could come with you, if you’d like.

[Audreyanna snorts.]

Evelyn: Hey, don’t laugh. Anyone facing down dinner with your father and Brylee needs major moral support.

Audreyanna: I appreciate the offer. Honest. But this is something I need to do on my own. And I love you, babe, but even you can’t handle Brylee.

Evelyn: Hmph. That’s what you think.

[tanadrin]

I think it is often difficult for readers to get a sense of the scales under discussion when we talk about wider interstellar history. The truth is, galactic "civilization," if I may use that term for the very different species that are more or less involved in diplomacy and exchange with one another, is both very old and very young. It is old in the sense that many different generations of species have come and gone on the galactic stage. The Helvetiosans and Chalawani, for example, are distantly related members of the Delta Pavonis clade, which itself originates from a region of space at least a thousand light-years rimward of the Local Sector. Genetic reconstructions date the clade to at least 25,000 YBP. Archeology and sources like the Helvetiosan mythohistoric cycles indicate several phases of expansion and decline across that period, which have left behind many inhabited worlds with unique features shared only by Pavonid offshoots. The Titawinese species in around 6,000 years old, and, because they were directly created by the Saffarid Progenitor Civilization, they have a continuous and complete historical record from that time, which details early sublight exploration of their stellar neighborhood and first contact with numerous neighboring species. To us, these seem like quite long stretches of time. And they are, especially against a human lifetime. We stared up at the sky in stupefied ignorance while the Titawinese were exploring deep space. And from the other view, there is a vast expanse of time in the history of the galaxy of which we know nothing. The ruins of the outer moons of Edasich may be as old as forty thousand years; their builders are unknown. The Great Wreck of Moriah is nearly a hundred thousand years old. And then there is the Sagarmathid Gravitational Anomaly may be an artificial structure that is four hundred million years old.

Wolfling species like our own--those without any spacefaring ancestry--are in a peculiar position. We tend at once to be rather old and rather young. The first Osmians appeared ninety thousand years ago; the first Osmians to leave their homeworld did so aboard human ships, about two hundred years ago. The progenitors of the human clade are possibly two and a half million years old, older than any other sentient clade we have encountered, though we only achieved anything like our current form two to three hundred thousand years ago. It is for that reason that the Chalawani sometimes call us the Eldest, or the Stargazers. But by interstellar standards we exhibited a curious stasis for countless generations, while far away mighty empires rose and fell; even once we had definitely attained behavioral modernity by fifty thousand years ago, we continued to live a curiously complacent lifestyle, until in a feverish rush we sprang from the first cities to the warp drive in a single 6,000 year leap. Thus the Helvetosians call us the Newcomers, and the Intruders--and they are not exactly wrong.

Most life-bearing worlds we encounter have a common genetic history with other worlds--usually hundreds, and probably in most cases thousands. This is not in itself a surprising statistic: even if only a handful of species build true interstellar civilizations capable of xenoforming worlds, and even if that xenoforming takes many centuries, within a few million years, most inhabited worlds in a galaxy as planet-rich as ours will be xenoformed in origin. Indeed, according to some xenobiologists, the surprise is not that so many worlds bear the traces of previous civilizations, but that any wolfling planets exist at all. What presents a puzzle for the xenologers is that the horizon of known galactic history is so short: where are the continuous civilizations that are ten thousand years old? One hundred thousand? Ten million? One billion? Why does there appear to be a kind of Fermi filter, an absence of continuous technological, interstellar civilization beyond the last one hundred thousand years or so? Why, in fact, is the galaxy not dominated by such ancient civilizations, given that they have had billions of years to establish themselves?

Several solutions have been offered to this problem. One, perhaps it is an issue of statistical bias: even now, Frontier has surveyed only a tiny fraction of our little corner of the galaxy. The portion that has been explored in depth is even smaller. That galactic civilization is young in the Local Sector does not mean galactic civilization is young in the Milky Way. Two, perhaps conditions were not right for forming life-bearing worlds much before a few billion years ago, and given the complexity of intelligence required to journey into space, the great floresence of galactic civilization has only just begun. This hypothesis would stand only if the Sagarmathid Anomaly, and sites like it, could not be conclusively shown to be of very ancient artificail origin. Three, perhaps the constraint is social in nature--the difficulty of maintaining an interconnected interstellar civilization is such that periodic collapse is inevitable, followed by a long dark age. And a few creative paranoiacs have proposed the possibility the filter is exogenous in nature--that there is something in the galaxy that does not brook anything that might rival it in power, and that will eventually seek out and destroy any alien that makes its presence known.

Personally, I think no solution to this question is satisfactory; I am not even convinced it is a well-formed question. It assumes a universal worldview to be shared by all potential alien civilizations, and one that is rather humanlike. Or, to be more specific, rather like us humans as we are now--explorers, seekers, colonizers, builders--without admitting any possibility of change. I think it is possible, and even likely, that there are indeed very old civilizations in this galaxy; but that it is entirely possible we would be unable to recognize them for what they were, unless they condescended to make themselves known to us. And there may be civilizations that were once like us, but now are rather more like our ancestors, the Stargazers of our long, quiet childhood on Earth. And there are, no doubt, aliens with minds as complex and as subtle as ours, but so strange we would not even recognize them as sentient beings at first. Perhaps we have even already encountered a few. In short, the galaxy is not only stranger than we know; it is probably stranger than we possibly can know. Keep this in mind on your first deep space assignment.

--Karel Mora, An Introduction to Xenology for Starship Officers, 3rd. edition.

[justabooknerdposts]

Shopping

Prompt from Ao3: Would love to see a future fic of either Annabeth wedding dress shopping with Sally or Annabeth and Percy telling Sally they are having a baby!

*Again, still closed to prompts, just have this one and one more left to catch up on (last one will be up next week).  I loved this prompt and wanted to do both lol so here you go!*

SHOPPING, PART 1 OF 2:

Annabeth knew it was the right dress as soon as she put it on.  It was simple, but elegant, with a hint of Grecian style, while still being modern.  The skirt swept the ground and the fabric was light, perfect for catching the breeze at a beach wedding.  When she saw herself in the mirror, she smiled and teared up.  She could absolutely see herself saying “yes” to Percy in this dress.

“It looks like we might have a frontrunner,” the shop assistant suggested kindly.  She was an older woman in her fifties wearing a black dress, her gray hair piled elegantly on top of her head, and she’d told Annabeth earlier how much she enjoyed helping brides find their perfect dress.  “Should we show them?”

Annabeth nodded.  She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders.  She was spending the last Saturday of her senior year of college Christmas break going wedding dress shopping, while she and Percy were in New York visiting his family for the holidays.  She couldn’t imagine dress shopping without Sally there to help.  And, luckily, a few of her friends had been able to make it to the appointment, too.  This was the fifth dress she’d tried on and the other four had received mixed reviews from her entourage of Piper, Hazel, Rachel, and Sally.  The toughest judge, though, was Estelle.  The almost-four-year-old had expressed some strong opinions about two of the previous dresses.  And while Annabeth wasn’t going to base her decision on anyone’s opinion but her own, it would make everything easier if everyone liked this one.

She shouldn’t have worried.  When she stepped out of the dressing room, she couldn’t help the smile on her face.  Shyly, she did a small turn, holding out the skirt, and asked, “What do you think?”

Piper started smiling immediately.  Hazel’s hands went to her cheeks, her eyes bright.  Rachel studied it critically for a moment, like she was examining a painting, then gave an approving nod. 

Estelle, perched on the couch between Hazel and Piper, clapped her hands and told Annabeth, “You look like a princess.”

The best reaction, though, was Sally’s.  Her eyes welled up, even as she smiled.  “Oh sweetheart.  You look absolutely beautiful.”

“Thanks, Sally.”  Annabeth gave her a hug.  “I think this is the one.”

“It’s for sure the one,” Piper agreed.  “We can see it on your face.”

Annabeth blushed and turned back to the mirror.  “I just—I can see myself standing beside Percy in this dress.”

“After he picks his jaw up off the sand,” Rachel said, which made everyone laugh.

“This is it,” Annabeth said, twisting slightly in front of the mirror to see the different angles.  “I’m getting this one.”

“Wonderful,” the assistant said.  “I’ll leave you all to talk for a minute while I put the order together.  Would you like to add our alterations package?  There’s a discount if you purchase it at the same time as the dress.”

“That won’t be necessary.”  A dark-haired woman with grey eyes, wearing jeans and a white blouse, stepped into the dressing area.

“Mom?” Annabeth’s stomach dropped.  She was torn between being happy at seeing her mother and being concerned about why, exactly, Athena was here.

“Hello, Annabeth.”  Athena stopped beside her, studying her daughter in the wedding dress as if it were a battle plan.  “You look lovely.”

“Th-thank you.  How did you know we were here?”

Athena raised an eyebrow.  “I was given to understand that it is traditional for the mother of the bride to attend wedding dress shopping.”

“Oh, of course.”  Annabeth exchanged glances with Piper and Hazel, who both looked alert as they watched this conversation.  “I just didn’t realize it was something you’d want to do.”

“It’s not something I would typically do,” Athena agreed, moving to stand beside Annabeth, her hands going to the dress, gently tugging and tucking it so that it fit more tightly at Annabeth’s waist, highlighting her figure.  “But I’m willing to make an exception for you.  And offer my services as a seamstress to make the alterations on your dress.”

Annabeth’s eyes widened.  “Seriously?”

Athena smiled thinly.  “Yes, seriously.  I am the goddess of weaving, after all.  I think I can manage this task.”

“Thank you.”  Annabeth was stunned.  She and her mother hadn’t always had an easy relationship.  And she knew Percy had never exactly been Athena’s favorite.  So to get her support in this way meant a lot.

As much as she appreciated her mother’s visit, though, Annabeth could definitely tell everything was more tense while the goddess was present.  Luckily, after taking Annabeth’s measurements by studying the sample dress, Athena nodded, gave Annabeth instructions on how to contact her to make the alterations once her dress arrived, then left as abruptly as she’d arrived.

Once they were back on the street, Annabeth walked beside Sally, Estelle holding both their hands, insisting that they swing her across the cracks in the sidewalk.

“Thanks for coming today, Sally,” Annabeth told her.

“Of course, Annabeth.”  Sally smiled at her as they swung Estelle again.  “I wouldn’t have missed it.”  Her voice turned more careful, though, as she said, “It was nice of your mother to come.”

Annabeth nodded.  “It was.”  She shot a smile at Sally.  “But I’m really glad you could be here, too.”

Sally’s eyes crinkled the way they did with a true, genuine smile and she reached over with her free hand to squeeze Annabeth’s arm before Estelle once again insisted that they swing her.

*

“How was dress shopping?” Percy asked Annabeth later, when it was just the two of them snuggled on the couch at his parents’ apartment, watching TV after everyone else had gone to bed.  “Did you get one?”

She nodded against his shoulder.  “But you can’t see it until the wedding.  It’s bad luck.”

“Do you actually believe that?”

Annabeth shrugged.  “I’m not risking it, Seaweed Brain.”

Percy chuckled and kissed the top of her head.  “You’re probably right, as usual.”  His arm tightened around her shoulders.  “I already know you’ll look beautiful, though.”

Annabeth hid her smile against his t-shirt.  Raising her head, she met his eyes, gorgeous as ever, and told him, quietly, “I can’t wait to marry you.”

Percy’s smile at her words made her melt.  “I can’t wait to marry you, either,” he said, leaning closer to kiss her.

Soon, in just a few months, she would walk down the aisle to him, wearing the dress she’d bought today.  Until then, it was enough to be cuddled close together on the couch like this.  Life was good.

SHOPPING,  PART 2 OF 2:

Sally was grateful to be inside the department store on this early spring afternoon, as it was gray and drizzly outside, the sky pressing close to the tops of the skyscrapers.  She was also happy to be at the store with her son and daughter-in-law, helping Percy find new clothes for an upcoming formal work event.  Annabeth had insisted that Sally accompany them.  “We’ll need a tiebreaker,” she’d told Sally on the phone the day before.  “Besides, nice clothes aren’t always Percy’s strong point.”

So Sally had happily agreed to join them.  They would be meeting Paul and Estelle afterwards for dinner.  Sally had dropped Estelle off at her dance class on the way here, and Paul would be picking her up on his way to dinner after work.

It didn’t take too long to find a nice button-down shirt and a pair of dark gray pants for Percy.  He’d initially wanted a blue shirt, of course, but Annabeth had insisted on a green one that complemented his eyes.  Sally hadn’t really done her job as tiebreaker, since she’d agreed that her son looked very handsome in both shirts, but Percy had eventually given in good-naturedly to his wife, especially after she agreed to wear a blue dress to the event.

“You’re my plus one,” he told her with a wink.  Annabeth playfully smacked his arm.

Sally smiled.  They were as cute now as they had been at sixteen.  And she was very happy that Annabeth was an official member of the family.  As they started walking across the department store, back towards the door (Sally thought, although she’d gotten a big turned around in the giant store), her phone buzzed.  She checked it, following the shopping bag swinging from Percy’s hand out of the corner of her eye.  When her son’s footsteps stopped, she stopped, too, still focused on Paul’s text saying they were on their way, his photo of Estelle in a dance pose, and her reply exclaiming about how adorable the photo was and letting him know they were on their way out of the store and would see them soon at the restaurant.

As she slipped her phone into her pocket and looked up, she realized that Percy and Annabeth were both watching her.  “Sorry.  Text from Paul.  They’re on their way to the restaurant.  Did you need something else here, honey?”

“I’m not sure.”  Percy glanced at Annabeth, the corner of his mouth quirking up.  “Do we need anything else here, baby?”

Sally was a bit surprised at the term of endearment, as Percy didn’t always use those for Annabeth in front of his mom, but they were also still pretty early in their marriage, so she figured maybe it was just a happy newlywed thing.

Annabeth crossed her arms, biting her lip, glancing at Sally before telling Percy, “I don’t know, baby, what do you think?”

Sally frowned, narrowing her eyes.  Clearly, something was up.  “What are you two—”  Suddenly, she realized where they were standing.  “Why are we in the baby department?”

Percy raised his eyebrows at his mom.  Annabeth was clearly trying to hide a smile.  Sally had a moment of confusion, glancing from her son and daughter-in-law to the racks of tiny, pastel-colored clothes.

And then she got it.

“Wait.  Are you—” Their giant grins were answer enough.  And then Sally started crying, right there in the department store. 

“Aw, Mom.”  Percy hugged her and Sally squeezed him back, hard.  “These are happy tears, right?”

“Of course they are!”  Sally sobbed, even though she was smiling as she kissed his cheek and released him to hug Annabeth.  “I’m so happy right now.”

Annabeth held on to Sally for an extra moment, and Sally squeezed her tighter.  “You’re going to do great, sweetheart,” she told her daughter-in-law softly, and Annabeth nodded against her shoulder.  They were both wiping tears off their cheeks when they broke apart.

“Well,” Sally clapped her hands, “while we’re here, I’m buying some outfits!  I’m guessing it’s too soon to know boy or girl?”

Annabeth nodded.  “I’m not due until September, so we’ve got a while still.  Thankfully.  It was…a bit of a surprise.”  She glanced at Percy with a smile.  “But we’re really happy about it.  Thrilled, actually.”

“Definitely,” Percy agreed, still grinning.  “And we decided not to find out what the baby’s going to be.  We’ll be happy either way, so it seems like it’d be a fun surprise.”

Annabeth made a face.  “It makes it hard to plan, but he persuaded me.”  She took Percy’s hand.  “We’ve had a lot of crummy surprises over the years, so it seems nice to have a good one to look forward to.”

“Absolutely,” Sally agreed.  She turned to critically examine the rows of tiny clothes in front of her.  “I’m sure I can find some cute onesies in here that will work for a boy or a girl.”

She did.  Ten minutes later, she was handing Percy a second bag to carry, this one holding half a dozen adorable little outfits.  Percy was still beaming as he took it from her.

“Feels real now,” he said, hefting the bag to show Annabeth.  “Our baby has clothes.”

Annabeth sniffled.  “That’s so sweet.  Thanks, Sally.”

Sally gave Annabeth a one-armed hug.  “You’re welcome, dear.  I’m just so happy for you both.” 

The three of them left the store, heading for dinner to share the good news.  Sally couldn’t keep a smile off her face.  Her son was going to be a dad.  She was going to be a grandma.  Above her, the clouds were breaking up, slivers of blue sky appearing through the gray.  It was a beautiful day.   

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Runaway - Chapter Ten.

I’M SO SORRY I didn’t post this yesterday, besties! I completely forgot, getting sidetracked with working out and chores! Here it is, though. Take your time getting to the next 30 notes, if you like, but if you’re desperate for more then no problem, all up to you guys! Thank you so much for your engagement, as ever! 

Previous chapters - Prologue  One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight  Nine

Taglist - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 2,120

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

“Oh, look at this, here’s your daddy and you’re just mad as hell! What a welcome, huh?” Hannah spoke over the puce faced, full scale meltdown her daughter was throwing as she opened her front door. Manny took the howling baby immediately, noticing right away how exhausted her mother looked.  

“Now, come on, tiny girl. Ain’t that bad, is it?” he began, talking to her soothingly, wincing when she about blew his left eardrum out, turning to Hannah. “Apparently it is.”  

“She’s been howling for the past half hour, and most of the afternoon. She isn’t running a fever, she’s fed and dry but apparently, she just wants to make me feel like I’m the worst mother on earth while sleep depriving me too, just for good measure!” she exclaimed, but lightly, trying to play it off a little with some humour. To add to it, as soon as Manny sat down on the couch with Lola rested to his chest, she finally stopped. She had to bite her lips together to prevent them from wobbling.  

Of course, he noticed. “When was the last time you got to relax for a while?”

Hannah made a thoughtful face. “Oh, let me think. First trimester, I think.”  

“Shit,” he rumbled, laughing softly before nodding in the direction of her slightly ajar bathroom door. “Go for a soak in the tub, have some you time, go on. I got this one.”

Hannah hesitated; with a look of concern Manny read with one hundred percent accuracy. “It’s alright, Hannah banana. For the last few days, whenever I’ve had a spare moment I’ve been reading up on all this parenting shit. I think I read through about fifty different websites, twenty of which contradicted the one before, so I called for backup. Lily kindly sat and basically wrote me out my own baby book of dos and don’ts, what’s really important, semi-important and what not to worry about. It’s my bible, and I got a good memory, so don’t stress. She’s in good hands.”

She looked placated by that information, smiling fondly, touched that he was really taking the role of daddy very seriously. God, she’d gotten so lucky. “Thank you. I’ll be out in half an hour.”

“Take your time.” He winked, kissing Lola’s soft, sweet-smelling head, Hannah heading into her bathroom, her emotions stirred. There within the dark brown tilled room, the water chugging into the deep tub from the double faucet and filling the air with steam that the whirring extractor took care of, she poured in her bubble bath as silent tears slipped from her eyes. After everything she’d been through, it was such a relief that the man who had fathered her baby was being completely effortless in all of this.  

With Michael, it had been hell. Absolute hell.  

It had started a month and a half after their breakup, Michael calling and asking if they could meet, stating that after having time to reflect and regardless of everything, he missed her. She’d turned down his request, explaining that while she still felt awful over her actions, she was at peace with the result of them. He seemed to take it with grace to begin with, wishing her well... until the text messages began flooding in.  

‘We can make it work, Hannah. Okay, so maybe I’ve been a little too assertive in our relationship, too quick to take the lead, so let’s give it a chance for me to make up for that, give you a little more freedom of choice. How about that?’

Except she’d mentioned the unfairness in the past, and he’d done nothing about it. If he really wanted to change, he would have done so before then. At forty-two years old, he’d had ample time to better himself.

‘Come on, babe. There’s no point ignoring me. You know we’re both at the age now where it makes sense to settle down, so why not with each other now that I’m making the effort to change?’

Except he wasn’t.

‘Hannah, this is fucking ridiculous. You know we’re meant to be together, come on! What, have you found someone else? Just call me, okay?’

And then he began turning up at her apartment, banging on the front door, calling for her to come out and face him, or let him in so they could talk. He’d spend hours out there, becoming verbally aggressive, trying to pick the locks, threatening her if she didn’t let him in. After the third consecutive night, she’d abandoned her hope that he would get bored and called the police, her neighbours also lodging complaints about him disturbing the peace.  

On and on he persisted, even taking to watching her apartment after he’d finished work, following her when she went out to the store or met up with Shonda or her family, even barging his way into the restaurant she and Ange, her sister-in-law had been having dinner at one evening, having to be physically removed by three of the servers, Hannah mortified and frightened by the scene he’d made.  

After that, he went quiet, Hannah thinking that luck might have shone on her a little, recently finding out that she was pregnant, dealing with the stress and shock of that, knowing that she was too far gone for a termination, and even if she wasn’t, deciding that she didn’t actually want one. She very much wanted to be a mother.  

She was twenty-one weeks, with her little bump showing nicely, when Michael made an appearance again, following her from the store one night, confronting her in the parking garage beneath her apartment block. He’d screamed at her so much, she’d trembled in fright, wrapping her arms around her stomach protectively as he’d ranted at her.  

“How dare you do not tell me! How fucking dare you. That’s my child too, Hannah, I have rights, you know!”  

She’d been too frightened by his escalating aggression to reveal the fact that there was only a fifty percent chance that the baby was his. Thankfully, that night she’d had Jayden, her neighbours’ son come to her aid, all six feet six of him towering over Michael, advising that he should back the hell down, watching him leave before insisting on escorting Hannah back upstairs while carrying her groceries, well-mannered kid that he was.  

After that, she’d had his mother on her back, his sisters, and him, so much so she’d had to change her phone number and had, for a while, seriously considered selling her apartment and moving elsewhere. He then began to reach out via email, hundreds of messages per week, continuing to show up on her doorstep, Hannah cataloguing it all before taking it to the police, Ange, Jayden, his parents and a few other neighbours providing statements that backed up her claim for harassment and stalking. To put it mildly, she’d been frightened out of her mind for her safety, with how he’d behaved.

It was only when she’d reached her thirtieth week of pregnancy that finally, the restraining order was put into effect, and everything calmed down. By that time, though, she was exhausted and had been ever since. Raising a baby as a single mother, while continuing to work was the toughest thing she’d ever done.  

Her parents had helped, both doting on Lola, having her to stay overnight on occasion so Hannah could get a full night of sleep and have time to run her errands, but still, it had been so tiring, being the full-time caregiver, doing it all alone.  

Thank heavens she didn’t have to any longer, dying her eyes as she sniffed, undressing and sliding into the bath, sinking down until she was submerged completely. While she was relaxing, Manny was getting to grips with being on dad duty.  

“How the hell can something so small and pretty produce what can only be described as demonic shit? For real, tiny girl. That ain’t right,” he spoke, his daughter now fresh and clean, the offending diaper tied into a bag and condemned to the trash. “I thought I was gonna have to call a priest for a moment. Oh, ya’lll smiling at me now, huh? You think this is funny, don’t you?”

He tickled her, watching her grin grow wider, lifting her up and carrying her back out of her room, glad he’d actually managed to change her successfully without having to call Hannah for help. YouTube videos provided a wealth of information when someone new to all of this – as he very much was – required a little demonstrative instruction.

He’d have been lying if he’d stated he didn’t find it daunting, being responsible for another person, a tiny one at that, but he wouldn’t fail Lola like his own father had failed him. He’d learned that Manuel Snr had passed away seven years ago from colon cancer. He found that quite fitting, that such an asshole be taken out literally by his own asshole. It was something he touched upon later that evening with Hannah, after Lola had thankfully gone to sleep without fuss.  

“I want to thank you again, for stepping up, making all of this so easy,” she told him, Manny reaching to squeeze her hand.  

“I ain’t gonna be no deadbeat dad. I had one of those,” he explained, continuing when Hannah’s face shifted to curiously sympathetic. “He walked out on my mom, my siblings and I when I was five. We never saw him again, not even when my mom managed to locate him in order to serve his no-good ass with divorce papers. He never cared about any of us, but thank fuck I had the best goddamned male role model in my gramps. He raised me better than to abandon a child, and I wouldn’t anyway, because no kid deserves their dad to be that fuckin’ selfish, you know?”

“Jesus, that’s awful.” She shook her head, her forehead creasing. “I’m so sorry you had that happen to you.”  

“Don’t be,” he assured, “because if I hadn’t, I likely wouldn’t have had such a healthy childhood, growing up on the ranch in La Paz County. It’s beautiful out there.”  

“You grew up on a ranch? What, with cattle and horses and everything?” she exclaimed softly, her eyes lighting up. “You only mentioned that you’d moved to Yuma because of a girl, and then ended up here because of, what was it you called it, a conflict of interests in your club back there. I never knew about the ranch!”

“Yeah, Blackstone Ranch was my home until I was twenty-five. Long days, hard work, but it was cool. I miss it sometimes, being on horseback for most of the day, out in the wilds,” he revealed, Hannah continuing to look amazed.

“Oh wow, you can ride? You actually worked there, too?”

“Hell yeah, darlin’. I was a cowboy before I switched to being a Mayan. My gramps got me up on quarter horse when I was six. He didn’t believe in letting me learn on a pony, and for that I thank him. I got good control. Whenever I go back, he gets me up on the unruly youngsters, because I’m hard to throw. I got an ass like glue once it hits the saddle.”

“This is so fascinating! I rode for a little bit as a child, but I quit after falling and breaking my collarbone. I know I shouldn’t have, that I should have got back on, but that nasty pain kinda scared me out of the saddle,” she shared, Manny nodding.

“Well, gramps asked when I’d be coming to visit so he and my gran can meet Lola. We’ll have to get you back up on a horse while we’re there.”  

Her face was a picture of trepidation, but inside, she sparkled at the prospect, of being introduced to his family, seeing the world he’d come from. “Do you ever miss it?”

“I do,” he began candidly. “Not the 4am starts, but I miss my grandparents, and my horse. I got a mare called Midnight, most beautiful, soulful horse in the world. Gramps made me break her in as a crazy two-year-old when I was eighteen. She’s mostly retired now, but she doesn’t have a clue that she’s twenty-three and technically on her way to being an old gal. She still loves to run; still jumps anything you point her at. Typical Mustang, she’ll be all fire until the day she dies.”

Listening to him speak of his old life, and his plans to include her in revisiting it made her chest flood with warmth. And then it hit her.  

He was engaged.  

Just when things were seeming to become simpler for her.  

[ssa-sapphic]

Pairing: Emily Prentiss × (POC)fem!oc

Previous Chapter: part one

Summary: When the bodies of several women show up all around LA, it's Garcia who aids the team in making the shocking connection that all of the victims look exactly like one of her favorite actresses, Sloan Hudson. Upon making this discovery, the team soon realizes that this famous celebrity might just be the unsub's final target, meaning that she is now in grave danger and needs to be protected. Unfortunately for Emily, her days of being a profiler are soon put on hold when Hotch assigns her to be Sloan's personal bodyguard.

Warnings: Basically all that an episode of Criminal Minds consists of. I don't really know what to specifically list, but if you have any additions or specific triggers, please let me know

Word Count: 4.6k

“Hollywood is a place where they’ll pay you a thousand dollars for a kiss and fifty cents for your soul.” - Marilyn Monroe

“Good morning, everyone!" The talk show host introduced, directing his words to the huge camera lens a few feet away and the small audience sitting behind it. "We’re here with America’s Sweetheart, Sloan Hudson, daughter of the late world-renowned director and Academy Award-winning actor Omar Hudson, and she’s here to catch us up on how life has been treating her over the past year since her father’s passing.”

On the sofa next to him, Sloan sat with her legs crossed and a dazzling smile plastered on her face as she looked out into the crowd filled with many of her adoring fans and supporters.

“So, Ms. Hudson, first and foremost how are you doing?” He asked, politely.

With a glance at her manager, who stood backstage with a pointed look, Sloan swallowed the lump in her throat and addressed the man next to her.

“Well, Jimmy, I’ll admit things were rough the last several months after my father’s accident. Loss isn’t ever an easy thing to experience, and it was difficult picking myself up from such a dark place in my life. However, I knew the impact he left on this world would never be forgotten and in a way, it’s like he’s still a part of me. Of course, I know firsthand that life and the industry itself won’t ever be the same without him, but it’s that idea alone that has motivated me to continue in his footsteps and keep his legacy alive. He helped shape me into the woman and actress I am today and I will always be grateful and honored to share the same passion he had for acting.”

Once again, she looked over to her manager behind the scenes, who was now sending her a nod of approval, almost as if she had doubted Sloan’s capability to remember the simple words written for her on yellow note cards that morning. Did she honestly forget that reading pages and pages of scripts was part of her job?

“Yes, his death certainly shocked all of us who watched his career develop over the years but we’re glad to hear that the Hudson talent won’t be ending so soon,” Jimmy noted solemnly, allowing the audience to clap in encouragement before he moved on to his next question. “I think we’re all looking forward to seeing your career flourish just as much. Speaking of which, I hear you’ve already begun a new project that’s set to hit theaters as early as next summer. Can you tell us a bit about the film and what we can expect to see from you this time around?”

"Unfortunately, I can’t say much,” Sloan smiled apologetically, knowing she’d get in heaps of trouble for disclosing any details while production was still underway. “But I’m excited to introduce my fans to this new character I’m portraying. She’s nothing like the roles I’ve had in the past and I hope she touches their hearts just as much as she has mine. I know you’re all used to seeing me in romantic indie films and the like, but this one is going to be a real emotional and dramatic performance for me and I’m honored to be part of such a brilliant storyline. I can’t wait to see it come to life.”

“That’s amazing!" He exclaimed. "It sounds like maybe this could be your year to take home an award, what do you think?”

With a small chuckle, Sloan suddenly grew bashful as she hid her face behind her hands, while the crowd cooed and awaited her answer. Truth be told, her anxiety crept up on her like a shadow in the night from his question, but within a second, she managed to ground herself and slip her mask back on before addressing his words.

“Well, it’s like the famous painter Van Gogh once stated: I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream. In that same aspect, I don’t know what the future holds for me or if I’ll ever take home an Oscar. All I can say is that I’ve been dreaming of it ever since I was a little girl sitting in my father's director chair, and that drives me to be the best that I can be. We’ll see if that’s good enough.”

“Ah, Miss Hudson, just as humble as ever, huh?” Jimmy smiled at her. He then turned to face the camera. “When we come back we’ll talk more with Sloan and even play a few games with her that are favorites on the show! I’m sure all of you watching at home don’t want to miss it. So, stay tuned and we’ll be back after a quick commercial break.”

On the way out of the studio, lights flashed and shouts erupted as Sloan and her security team rushed through the crowd of paparazzi, journalists, and fans. Quickly they made their way over to the limousine waiting for her in front of the building, but not before being stopped by a woman with a microphone blocking their path.

“Sloan! Is it true you’re dating your costar, Colton Davis!? Are you engaged to him?? Where is he, and why isn’t he here with you!?”

“Who said he’s not here?” A male’s voice cut in, as the dirty-blond himself emerged from the limo and threw an arm around Sloan’s waist. She had to force herself not to cringe away from his touch as his hand lingered far more downward than she’d liked. “I’m always supporting my girl from the sidelines. Isn’t that right, babe?” He turned to her, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips knowing the press would have a field day with it.

But just as his chapped lips neared her freshly glossed ones, she moved her head so that they met her cheek instead. It was an act of nonchalance executed so perfectly and ritualistically, that no one seemed to notice. They never did, and it was one of the few reasons that made having a PR boyfriend manageable. As long as they were seen out and about together, that was all that mattered. The nonexistent kisses and intimacy could happen behind closed doors and away from the public’s knowledge.

Sloan ignored the rest of the questions thrown at her and blew a kiss to her fans before entering the vehicle, where she finally let out the breath she had been holding in since pulling up to the studio just hours ago. Moments like these were when she was thankful for whoever invented tinted windows, or in her case, the acting shields that allowed her to remove her mask completely without the worry of being seen. It was there that she could let her guard down and wipe away the thick layers of makeup caked on her face consisting of nothing but fake smiles and faux happiness.

She looked over to her manager, Vera, who was currently having what looked to be a serious conversation on the phone. The older woman spared a couple of glances her way, a mixture of worry and skepticism clouding her features, but Sloan couldn’t seem to find enough energy in herself to care. It was probably a modeling gig or another interview that fell through.

Cancellations and rain checks were like the end of the world to Vera, but to her, they were the calm between each passing storm. Moments where she could finally rest and step away from the limelight to have a day or week to herself.

Outside the car, she watched Colton wrap up his goodbyes. His proud demeanor and love for himself amused her to the point where she let out a dry laugh. The people out there didn’t care about him at all, and she knew that. They were all there for her and the only reason they gave him the time of day was so they could find out more information about her life. However, he was too blinded by his new rise in fame to see that.

Deep down, she couldn’t blame him though. When her career first set off, she too enjoyed the love and attention, but over the years she soon recognized it all for what it truly was:

Misconception.

With a roll of her eyes, she sat back in the leather seat and pulled her iPod out of her bag. Within seconds, “Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want” by The Smiths flowed through the earbuds she had placed in her ears. Listening to music was her usual way of grounding herself before getting into character, and knowing she was due on set within the hour, she figured the car ride there would be her only time to do so.

The song choice was deliberate, not only because The Smiths were one of her favorite bands, but also because the lyrics resonated with her in more ways than she knew how to explain. As a celebrity, you’d think she had access to everything she ever wanted. Truthfully, however, that was far from the case. There were many things she wasn’t allowed to have, and those specific things just happened to be what her heart desired most in the world.

“Sloan,” Vera called for her attention, having hung up the phone. “Don’t think I didn’t see that kiss with Cole. If you could even call it that.” She muttered the last part. “Remember what we talked about? You need to sell this relationship to get more publicity, and that won’t happen when you’re giving him the cold shoulder right in front of the cameras.”

“I still don’t see why I need a fake relationship.” She muttered. “I mean, I’m literally in the middle of filming a new movie. Isn’t that enough to warrant publicity?”

“That’s what showbiz is all about, you can’t rely on one single project to keep you trending, you know that. Besides, your fans don’t know anything about this movie aside from the cast. There’s not much keeping their attention. This relationship, however, is the key.” Vera exclaimed. “Haven’t you checked your socials? You and Colton are the hottest new couple, everyone and their mom is shipping you two.”

“I just don’t understand why it had to be him.” She mumbled in reply, looking out the window and watching him take a few photos with fans.

“Look,” Her manager sighed. “I know you’re still upset about our talk last week, but this is for the best. What you were asking me could’ve put you at risk for so much backlash and negativity. You’d lose hundreds if not thousands of supporters and that’s not what’s going to skyrocket your career, Sloan. What the people want from you is to see your face plastered on skincare ads telling them the secret to beauty, or on movie posters for upcoming blockbuster hits. I mean, you’re America’s Sweetheart for a reason. The public loves you, just as you are now. Why change that?”

“Seriously?” Sloan asked in disbelief. “Vera, this is just the kind of thing that could tell me who my true supporters are! I don’t care about the fake fans or what people think of me. People constantly come into my life just to end up taking advantage of me or using me for their own gain anyway and I’m so tired of it. For once, I just want someone to love me for who I am, not some false image that you or anybody else is forcing me to be. Why don’t you get that?”

“Because it’s ridiculous,” Vera answered simply. “We’ve worked too hard to get you where you are in this industry, and I won’t have you throwing it all to waste over some happily ever after fantasy that isn’t necessary when people literally throw themselves at you every day.”

With a scoff, Sloan put her earbuds back in. “You know, contrary to what you may believe, having people constantly throw themselves at you or want something from you doesn’t feel as good as you think it does. It makes trusting people impossible.”

“Sloan, come on–”

“No, Vera.” She cut her off. “I’m done with this conversation. If you want me to keep acting like someone I’m not then I’ll do just that. Luckily, for you, I know how to put on a good show.”

With that, she turned the volume on her iPod up to drown out any other remarks Vera threw at her. That, and also to distract herself from the overwhelming thoughts constantly plaguing her about life and adulation. It was all becoming too much, and Sloan just wanted to remember the passion she once felt for acting again. Lately, it felt like she was putting on this never-ending show for the world and she hated it. She felt used, empty, and hopeless. If she knew pursuing her dreams would end up making her sign her life away, she would have chosen a different route. At least then she would know who she was, because nowadays she felt her true self slipping away from her with each passing day, and it was starting to take its toll.

“Agent Hotchner,” The lead detective, Owen Kim, shook his hand. “I can’t thank you and your team enough for coming all this way to help us out.”

“Of course,” Hotch replied, before turning and introducing his team. “These are Agents Rossi, Morgan, Prentiss, Jareau, and Dr. Reid. Our technical analyst Penelope Garica will also be here this evening to help assist. Where are we so far in finding Kayla Shafer?”

“Well she’s now classified as a missing person, so we have her face plastered on the news and her family has orchestrated a search party of their own.” He answered, solemnly. “We’re doing everything we can but I’m afraid we don’t have much to work on. My officers are heading down to the bus stop area in a few minutes though to see if we can find any working surveillance cameras along the route we think she would normally walk.”

“Great. I’ll have my team set up in the conference room and we’ll go from there.” Hotch spoke formally, watching Detective Kim nod and walk off before JJ slipped into his sight next.

“So, how are we going to approach this?” She asked, quietly, knowing they had to be careful with letting more details about the case reach the media with a celebrity possibly being involved.

Hotch sighed as he looked around the precinct, discreetly. “If Garcia was able to connect the pieces from being a fan of Miss Hudson, sooner or later other fans will too. Our priority right now is to work the case like normal until we hear back from her management team. Until then, I want you to call Garcia and work on putting together a list of all of Sloan’s past roles in chronological order so we have a map to base off of. Hopefully, we’ll learn who the unsub’s next targets might be.”

“Got it.” She gave him a quick nod, before stepping aside to make the call.

Once the rest of the team finished setting up, they equally dispersed in pairs to take care of the respective tasks given to them on the jet. Rossi and Reid headed over to the morgue to examine the other bodies while Prentiss and Morgan followed the LAPD officers to the diner where Kayla worked.

Immediately after walking in, they were hit with the fresh smell of burgers and fries wafting through the air as the bustling breakfast hours quickly turned into lunchtime for many customers. Waiters and waitresses scurried about, taking orders and wiping down counters left and right. Derek just managed to move away from a serving tray filled with plates of food coming his way as the family in the booth next to them got served their meals.

“Looks like we came at the worst possible time’,” He commented, removing his sunglasses and trying to look for someone in charge. Or at least, someone who wasn’t too busy enough to talk with them.

“There’s something so nostalgic about vintage diners.” Emily looked around in awe. “During my college years, I worked at one just like this so I could pay for my apartment. There was a jukebox and everything.”

Derek smirked, “And how’d that work out for you?”

“It sucked.” She dry-panned. “But it did give me a whole new level of respect for waitresses.” She added, just as a woman with ginger hair walked up to them.

“Table for two?” She asked, already picking up menus.

“Oh, no ma'am.” Emily politely declined, as she and Derek held up their badges. “We’re actually with the FBI, here to talk about Kayla Schafer. Did you happen to be working with her the night she went missing?”

“Yeah, we were on the same shift.” The girl answered, whose name tag was revealed to be Julie. “But it's like I told those other cops when they came asking this morning, I clocked out early for my hair appointment so I wasn’t here during closing hours. I don’t know if she left with anyone or not.”

“That’s okay,” Emily assured her. “We’re more interested in the hours you two worked together. Do you remember if there was anyone suspicious hanging around either without ordering anything or maybe even after paying?”

“Perhaps all they ordered was coffee, but they still stuck around for hours anyhow,” Derek added.

“I’m sorry, I don’t.” She shook her head. “As you can see, it gets pretty busy in here. Most days I’m so occupied with running back and forth between tables and the kitchen that my mind is elsewhere. I don’t focus too much on who’s ordering what, you know?”

“I understand.” Emily nodded.

“I really wish I could help, but I have to get back to work,” Julie explained, before reaching into the pocket of her apron. “Here, this was Kayla’s notepad she used to take orders. It might not be much help either but if you’re looking for odd customers maybe there’s something in it you can find. Kayla hasn’t been working here for too long and after an incident that occurred her first day, she’d often make notes about customer appearances to help her remember who ordered what.”

“Thank you.” Derek accepted the small notebook. “Can you tell us more about this incident?”

“Oh, it wasn’t anything major.” She dismissed it with a wave of her hand. “Some woman complained that her food wasn’t right and made a big fuss. Just the normal slip-up with orders. Even the most seasoned of us workers still have those days. I don’t remember it much but if she came back after that day, Kayla’s got it jotted down somewhere in that book.”

“Alright, thank you. We’ll let you get back to work.” Emily replied, nodding before she and Derek walked out into the parking lot.

“You think this has something in it?” Derek asked, flipping quickly through the pages to see quick scribbles of dates, food orders, and vague customer descriptions.

“I’m not sure,” Emily answered honestly. “We’ll let Reid take a look at it though. He’ll be able to read it faster than any of us and point out specific characteristics in the handwriting.”

After Derek agreed, the two of them entered the SUV and drove back to the precinct. Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Rossi and Reid were in the middle of examining the bodies of Jessica Dunnings, Rina Mendes, and Sofia Lombardi.

“The toxicology reports indicated that various traces of poison were found in each of the victims,” Spencer recalled, his hands gloved up as he leaned closer to Rina’s body. “Have you found out what they are yet?”

The M.E. in charge nodded, picking up his clipboard and reading the report. “We found white powdery residue in each of their nasal passageways which the lab identified as cyanide salt, so we believe they inhaled some sort of potassium cyanide prior to their deaths.”

“Most likely how our unsub abducts them,” Rossi noted, standing over the body as well. “They become dizzy, confused, and end up unconscious right there at the scene. Blitz attack.”

“Initially that was all we had discovered,” The examiner continued. “But after closer inspection, we found neurotoxins in the flesh of their hands consistent with aconite and mesaconitine as well.”

“Aconite and mesaconitine,” Spencer repeated, deep in thought as he lifted Rina’s lifeless hands to observe her palms. “The flowers each victim was holding when they were found were purple. I couldn’t get a decent look at the shape of the petals in the files but now after learning that I’m almost certain that it was Aconitum. Also known as wolfsbane.”

“You’d be correct.” He replied, handing Rossi the full report. “Each of them had signs of respiratory distress, which can happen when the neurotoxins of the plant absorb through the skin. It’s why in the crime scene photos there was no blood around the stab wounds. Cardiac arrest is what caused their deaths, the stabbing was inflicted post-mortem.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Rossi frowned. “How did the unsub have time to do all this at the disposal site? And what reason did they keep each girl for when there are no signs of torture or assault?”

“That’s another thing,” He went on. “When I checked for defensive wounds, I noticed that all three bodies had their nails neatly trimmed, and their hair was freshly washed. Not only that but their torsos had markings embedded in the skin from around their waist and up towards the chest region. Most likely from a corset or restraint of some sort.”

That piece of news instantly made the two agents look at each other knowingly. Perhaps their original theory of the case relating to Snow White might not be as far off as they thought.

Once the team regrouped at the station and exchanged all of the new information they discovered, by that time Garcia was able to get in contact with Sloan’s management team. Unfortunately, they only had a small window to meet with Vera, but hopefully, it would give them enough time to convince her that Sloan needed to up her security and answer some questions that they had.

To keep things hush, only Hotch, Prentiss, and Morgan went to meet with her, while JJ drove to LAX to pick up Garcia (who was bummed out she wouldn’t be meeting Sloan herself). Spencer, on the other hand, stayed back to look through Kayla’s notebook with Rossi assisting him.

“Always a first for everything,” Emily spoke up, as the three of them pulled into the Hollywood lot location where filming was currently underway. Trailers were set up in rows all around, and crew members roamed about with several large pieces of equipment and props, making it hard for them to find a parking space.

Hotch furrowed his eyebrows as he scanned the lot, “Vera said to meet her in trailer seven, does anyone see it?”

“Over there,” Derek pointed out, motioning to the right.

Hotch nodded and maneuvered the car over in that direction. Finally, after finding an open spot, the three agents stepped out into the blazing heat of Los Angeles and walked over to the trailer.

“I want you two to scope out the trailer as I talk to Vera.” Hotch directed them as they neared the entryway. “Look for any signs of fanmail lying about or over-the-top gifts. If our unsub truly is obsessed with Ms. Hudson they no doubt attempted to contact her more than once.”

“How do we know for sure it isn’t Sloan herself committing these murders?” Derek wondered aloud. “I mean, we agreed that the crime scene photos depicted to be the clean work of a female. It wouldn’t be our first celebrity unsub case like that either. Remember Jonny McHale, the comic-book artist?”

“Let me stop you right there.” A new voice cut into their conversation, making each of them turn their heads.

An older blonde woman stood behind them with her arms crossed, looking at them with a mixture of impatience and skepticism laced in her features.

“Sloan has been working endlessly on this new movie, and in between set hours and resting she has had other bookings to attend to where she’s constantly followed by fans and paparazzi. That girl wouldn’t have time to kill anybody even if she wanted to.” Vera argued, defensively. “Now, I took the time out of my busy day to talk with you agents but I will not stand here and allow you to accuse her of murder. I’m sure you’d run right to the press with it and have it be the headliner for tomorrow’s paper.”

“My apologies, Ma’am,” Derek replied. “I’m just trying to make sure all possibilities are covered.”

The woman scoffed but said nothing as she quickly opened the trailer door and ushered them in before they were seen. After closing the door, she led them to the small living space at the end of the trailer and sat down on one of the cushioned chairs motioning for Hotch to sit on the adjacent one.

“You guys have 20 minutes before the cast is dismissed for the day,” Vera sighed, as she texted away on her cell phone. “What’s this about a bunch of killings related to Sloan?”

Emily fought the urge to roll her eyes at her blatant nonchalance, as Hotch introduced everyone and started diving into the case findings with her. She and Derek, however, took that as their cue to wander around the place looking for clues.

There wasn’t much to the eye besides the luxurious furniture and interior design elements. Still, Emily’s eyes landed on what looked to be a black notebook or journal sitting on the small table in the dinette. It was bound in leather and had gold letters imprinted on the cover that spelled out “HUDSON” in cursive. Inside the journal, she saw a white envelope poking out and wondered if it was fanmail or something more personal.

Though curiosity tempted her to read it, she ultimately decided to leave it be and ask questions later, not wanting to leave a bad impression if Vera had caught her snooping. However, when she averted her gaze over to the counter across the way, what she saw next certainly piqued her interest even more. A fresh bouquet of purple flowers rested in a vase by the sink, with the gifting tag still attached to it.

At the sight, Emily walked over and picked up the tag with her glove, but unfortunately, no name was listed. It was completely blank. She was about to call out to Vera and ask if she knew who delivered them but before she could, the trailer door creaked open, and Sloan herself emerged from outside with a look of surprise.

Emily’s breath nearly caught in her throat when she locked eyes with the young actress standing just a few feet away. Instantly, she was hit with flashbacks from the night before when she was watching one of Sloan’s movies with JJ and Garcia. Yet, Emily couldn’t remember a single scene that did the girl justice in terms of her beauty and physical essence. For one thing, her eyes seemed much more warm and vibrant in person. Whatever filters and color editing were added in the film completely dimmed the natural glow radiating behind her false lashes. She could only describe them as golden pools of honey hypnotizing her in the very spot she stood. Unable to look away, all she could do was stare in a trance as Sloan studied her back with furrowed eyebrows.

Though her presence was quite alluring, Emily was soon brought back to reality by the repellent attitude in Sloan’s voice as she slammed the trailer door closed behind her.

“Who the hell are you?”

A/N: hope you liked this chapter! drop a comment and let me know your thoughts if you enjoyed :) also let me know if you want to be tagged whenever a new chapter is posted! thanks for reading <3

[warwickroyals]

beginning - previous - next

Mrs. Jennifer Ware is the communications secretary to Nicholas and his mother. David Schuyler, who's appeared before and has been mentioned several times, is private secretary to Nicholas/Tatiana and is one of Alex's Godparents. "The people upstairs" refers to the only people "above" Nicholas's office: Louis's household and staff.

[DOCTOR] Your Royal Highness, this is Grace. She and her mother have been staying at Amanda’s House for three months.

[ALEX] It’s very nice to meet you, Grace. You’ve got my daughter’s name. Well, half her name.

[GRACE] You have a daughter?

[ALEX] Yeah, she’s around your age, too.

[GRACE] Is she a princess?

[ALEX] No, she’s an ordinary girl.

[GRACE] Does she go to school?

[SCHUYLER] I don’t understand why he chose to bring her up like that.

[JENNIFER WARE] That isn’t even the worst part.

[ALEX] Maybe when you’re feeling better you can return to school.

[SCHUYLER] Jesus Christ, why would he . . . ? I’ve seen enough; turn it off.

[JENNIFER WARE] You know what I’m about to say, don’t you? I was just telling Julianne the other day, like, what is it? “Julie, Am I a fucking mute or something?”  I’ve said this so many times: Prince Alexander is not his brother—

[SCHUYLER] I know, I know—

[JENNIFR WARE] You cannot just throw him into the wild unprepared.

[JENNIFER WARE] He needs notes, Sky! In bullet points and bold or else he won’t fucking read them! He’ll just skim them on his way there and the next thing you know, we have a member of the royal family telling a little girl in palliative care that she’ll get better one day.

[SCHUYLER] Jen, it was an honest mistake.

[JENNIFER WARE] Maybe so, but The Charlatan purchased the rights to that clip yesterday afternoon. This morning they uploaded it to Facebook. Our little mistake sits at over seven-hundred-fifty-thousand views. Over fifty-kay comments, the vast majority of them derisive in nature.

[JENNIFER WARE] The reputation of our second-in-line is holding on by a thread. It’s just been free-falling ever since he left the Prime Minister’s daughter. Even in the press briefings I’ve noticed a change in . . . temperature. That’s why I’ve waylaid you before the meeting. This is too intimate to bring up in front of the others.

[JENNIFER WARE] Listen, I feel for you. You and him were friends. The rest of us were just his employees.

[SCHUYLER] I’ve been here since 6 a.m., whatever emotional pandering you’re about to do, please make it quick.

[JENNIFER WARE] Fine, I’ll summarize. You know those boys, you’ve known them since they were babies. Most people stay with the palace, what, five, six years? You’ve been here for fifteen.

[SCHULERY] There aren’t many opportunities outside the palace. The job market isn’t the best.

[JENNIFER WARE] Don’t bullshit me. You’d began the process of transitioning out back in 2017. Everyone knows what happened.

[SCHUYLER] The late Prince of Danforth’s death was an unprecedented crisis. The family needed me.

[JENNIFER WARE] Right. And they still need you. We’re representing the future King of Sunderland, we can’t have stories of dysfunction and incompetence going to print every Sunday.

[JENNIFER WARE] Talk to those boys. Not as a private secretary, but as a surrogate father.

[SCHUYLER] I doubt they consider me as such. Well, you’re all they have.

[JENNIFER WARE] God knows you give them more attention than your own child.

[SCHUYLER]  Yes, for all the good it does. Neither are keen on listening to my advice.

[JENNIFER WARE] That’s not what the people upstairs think. They think you were the one who pressured Prince Nicholas into seeing a therapist. Oh, and one last thing: they were also saw the little clip I just showed you. The meeting you set up between Prince Alexander and The King has been canceled. Like I said: these mistakes have consequences. Talk to those boys.

[SCHUYLER] Bastards.

[ask-ozai]

Iroh once claimed that before Zuko, his father, grandfather and great-grandfather all searched for the Avatar.

I know about Sozin's search, but could you please tell us more about your own and Azulon's searches?

They're state secrets and no one has ever known too many details about the expeditions, but that's Zuko's problem now. And since he just caused an hyperinflation, probably he is too busy to even notice if people start talking about it.

Firelord Azulon was the same age as Zuko when he left to find the Avatar, fourteen, but he was very different from Zuko. At fourteen, my father had already fought and won four Agni Kais, and he never knelt and begged for mercy like a coward. He was the pride and future of the Fire Nation, trained and educated from his earliest age to be the perfect Firelord.

His quest to capture the Avatar led him to the most logical place to start, the Northern Water Tribe, where he was greeted with fear and apprehension given Sozin's recent history with the airbenders. But my father had the gift of persuasion and charisma, much needed in his role as Firelord and world conqueror. They reached a non-aggression agreement with the Chief, which lasted until the last day of my father's life and is the reason why the war barely affected the Northern Water Tribe in a hundred years. My father knew that they couldn't conquer his natural enemies until they conquered the Earth Kingdom first, so he gave them a false sense of security. Better to keep them out of the war for the moment.

He met my mother on that trip, Ilah.

Now, unfortunately, I never knew exactly the circumstances of how they met, nor much about my mother at all. The mere reminder of her existence (and absence) was enough to ignite my father's ire for whole days. No one was allowed to talk about my mother when I was a child. Neither the court, nor the servants, and much less me. The little I know is from Iroh, but he didn't talk much about her either. She was a complete taboo.

But yes, my father fell in love with my mother on that trip and returned home quickly to tell his father that he had found the perfect bride for himself. Sozin refused, for some unknown reason (other than that he simply didn't like women very much, I guess), so my father had no choice but to challenge him to an Agni Kai to fulfill his will to marry. Iroh says that Sozin was dead for two minutes when my father threw him a lightning and won the Agni Kai. Sozin must have been proud. When the healers managed to restart his heart, of course.

I don't have much more to say, because my father's trips were rather brief and sporadic. He and my mother married two years later, when he was sixteen, and remained married for fifty years until my mother's death when I was born.

Once my father organized another search, with Lo and Li in charge this time, who went to look for the Avatar in Omashu, hearing that King Bumi had once been friends with him. It is said that Lo had an affair with him and there is even talk of a secret bastard that they had to hide, but nothing was ever confirmed.

My search for the Avatar was a different matter. I was sixteen years old, and the time had come to show my father my value. Evil tongues will tell you that it was just an excuse to get rid of me, but they were Iroh supporters so their opinion don't count.

I took a ship, a small crew, and Zhao and Michi (the only companions I had even a modicum of confidence in) and we went to search for the Avatar. We traveled throughout the Earth Kingdom for two very long years. We had some adventures, naturally, but nothing worth mentioning until we infiltrated Ba Sing Se pretending to be circus performers. I can't give many details about what happened there, because Michi, Zhao and I swore an oath of silence. And as useless as Zuko is, he can still put Michi in a dungeon. Especially now that her daughter dumped him. And that wouldn't be convenient for anyone.

Let's just say the previous Earth King died under suspicious circumstances.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Until The Very End -(WITS Sequel)

A/N: I would die for every child in this story -Danny

Words: 2,268

Masterlist

Previous chapter // Next chapter

2008—2009

"What if we skip the press and go straight to the party?"

"They'll ask you questions whether they see you in front of a speaker stand, or by the bar."

Mel shook her head in defeat. "Well, at least the kids get to stay."

"I won't take my children to the ministry if I can help it, especially James."

"Lovely parenting, Glasses, talking ill about your kids behind their back..."

They were getting ready to attend a dinner celebrating Mr. Greengrass's trajectory, fifty years of devoted work trying to understand the secrets of the wizarding world. Mel and Harry were a few of the carefully selected guests.

Mel, with her research on obscurial going steady, was on the brink of another great discovery, which of course, would be the cherry on top of her boss's career since he was nearing retirement.

"You know what Erick told me the other day?" The woman continued, brushing thick locks of hair and pushing them one by one over her shoulders.

Harry hummed to let her know he was listening.

"He's starting a business with Anne," she smiled at her reflection. "He wants to pick up where his grandad left it."

Harry looked at her in surprise. "That's great! What does he and Anne have in mind? Tellies and phones?"

"Think so," she nodded. "But if he does this, he'll quit his current job, which makes me sad." Mel sighed and got up. Harry didn't ask why, he knew.

"Office hours might get duller without him, but you'd still get to see Ron, 'Mione and me during lunch hour."

"That's not what bothers me," Mel replied. "You know I can handle dull, it's just... we've slowly been growing apart from everyone. Haven't you noticed?"

"By everyone, you mean..?"

"Our friends. Neville, Luna, the twins... I mean, we see them at birthday parties, holidays and all that, but we used to see each other almost every weekend—"

"You worry you won't get to see Erick as often as you do now?" Harry teased her. "He lives fifteen minutes away—On foot!"

"Well, he's still my best friend!" Mel argued.

"I thought I was your best friend."

Mel huffed and lightly stomped her foot in frustration. Harry smirked, all those years together and she was still as easy to tease as when they were little.

"I worry we'll grow apart, okay?"

"When has that ever happened to the people we know? Take Remus and Sirius for example. It only took a few days for them to be back in—"

"Yeah, but that's just the thing, it's not like we can go back to being students at Hogwarts, cause the one time we all hung out together Erick and I were dating, and after that, no other routine lasted, did it?"

"Is this your way of telling me you've fallen back in love with Erick, or..."

"Glasses!" Mel approached him with a scowl. "I'm saying that we aren't getting younger, and we got kids, jobs, and projects that are leading us in different directions—it's not like before, when the war ended and all we cared about was spending time with each other, and having fun. It'll never be like that again and..."

Mel took a quick breath that came out shaky and Harry realized she was spiraling. He stopped his teasing and reached out to stroke her hands, his shoulders tensed when he realized her skin was cold and sweaty.

"Look up," he spoke. "Look at me."

Mel's pout turned more prominent, but her breathing steadied. She held onto Harry's hands tightly.

"Your job won't keep you from having company. You'll never be lonely, not for as long as I'm alive, and I've already made up my mind that I won't die before you do, so stop worrying."

Mel chortled at his words. "Yeah, I believe you'll find a way to keep that promise."

Harry moved his hands to cup her face, stroking it with his thumbs. "Changes are good. I know you don't love them, but so far it's always bettered our days in one way or the other, right?"

"Right."

"Think that in a couple of years, we'll all be old, and we'll have tea every late afternoon in our back garden with Erick and Anne, and everyone else with come during the weekends. How does that sound?"

"Sounds extremely monotonous," Mel said. "I like it."

"All you have to do is be patient," he reminded her.

Mel groaned and leaned her head on his shoulder. "Time is my biggest enemy."

"I know," he laughed. "We should take a break next summer, let's take the kids and go camping. And let's invite Reg and Teddy so they can babysit while we have fun."

Mel laughed and kissed his cheek. "Can't believe it's been ten years since I thought I'd lost you forever," she wrapped her arms around his waist. "And now I'm planning vacations with you and our babies."

Harry kissed her temple. "Not a single second wasted."

Leon Regulus is in the Gryffindor common room, reading the newest article about his sister and grinning every time he stumbles upon a sentence like "her elegance stuns every guest", or some rubbish like that. 

He finds that amusing, knowing how much Mel despises it. Reg stares at the picture of his sister standing next to her boss with Harry beside her, his classic scowl that he only wears in public events. 

Most kids in Hogwarts believe Harry Potter is a broody and mysterious man, and they're always asking Reg if he's scared of his brother-in-law, but Reg always answers that he likes Harry a little too much to care whether he's nice or not.

He always forgets to mention there has never been a day in which Harry isn't smiling or joking around when Reg is visiting. He'll keep forgetting, most likely.

He glances up from the newspaper. At the nearest wall, he sees the Gryffindor Quidditch team's pictures, every team dating from many centuries back is on that wall. He's just realized that Mel, Harry, and probably most Weasleys are there, and he's never seen a picture of his sister in Quidditch uniform. He gets up and walks up to it feeling weirdly excited.

Regulus finds the photo right away. Written at the bottom it reads: Gryffindor Team, 1996-1997. Harry, the seeker and Captain, is seated in the middle of the beaters. Mel is on his left side, and there is a blond boy on his right Reg doesn't know. Ron and Ginny Weasley are standing behind them at opposite ends, with the other two chasers between them.

The people in the image move as every magical picture does in their world, and the younger versions of Mel and Harry keep teasing each other. The rest of the team seems to be having fun too, but it's blatantly clear that Mel and Harry are in their own little world, whispering stupid jokes to make each other laugh.

"Hey, Leon! What's—"

The boy hushes Layla and points at the photo. "Look at them. They look like idiots."

His friend makes a little noise of delight. "They're cute!"

Reg smirks. "They're awful, it's like they're about to kiss."

"Hey," Layla squints and focuses on the girl. "Your sister doesn't have scars in this picture..."

"'Course not, that happened at the end of their sixth year," he explained. "When Dumbledore died."

"Ohh, I see," Layla looks back at him with her big green eyes. Sometimes she reminds him of Luna Lovegood, she's definitely just as mental. "Does it feel weird, knowing all the things that happened to your sister while she was at school?"

Reg thinks about it. "Sometimes. Not always, though. I like to think more about the stuff that happened that wasn't history-worthy."

"Like what?"

"Like her cat Grey, the one that passed a few months ago, Harry gave it to her when they finished their first year. Or when the Weasley twins sent a love letter to her but it was actually a poem making fun of her, and she almost killed them for that," he laughs.

Layla laughs with him. "Books make it look like your sister had an awful time here, but it doesn't sound like it was that terrible."

"Not at all," Reg sighs. "Mel loved this place, she was nervous during my first year, she wanted me to have fun but I was having a hard time, she promised it would get better."

"And has it?"

The boy shrugs. "I miss my friends, but Teddy Lupin starts next September, and Vicky Weasley and Emily Flint the year after. I have to be patient."

He continues to stare at his sister's photograph. He'd already been born by then, his father had died a few months before, and yet she was flirting with Harry like she had no care in the world. He's not upset about it at all, if anything, his family is a collection of brave, kindhearted people, and it's thanks to them that Reg finds his courage even when he's feeling alone.

"Anyway, you up for a game of chess?"

"Hard pass," Layla wrinkles her nose. "How about we visit Hagrid instead?"

He places an arm around her shoulders and guides her out of the tower. "Let's get Penny and Finn, they're probably rubbing their noses raw on library books."

"Mummy!" 

Mel looked away from the bushes she was pruning just in time to see Emmeline and James run up to her dragging their backpacks behind them. It was Anne's time to pick up the kids from school, and she had Emily and Elizabeth with her. Little Josephine followed Mel's twins without really knowing where they were running to.

"My babies are back!" The young mother knelt and opened her arms to welcome her children. "How was school?"

"I drawed this for you, mummy!" James pulled out a wrinkled piece of paper from his backpack.

"You drew, love," Mel corrected him, holding the piece. "Why is Daddy's hair blue?"

"I couldn't find black crayons."

"Mummy, can Josie stay the night?" Emmeline pleaded.

Mel glanced up at Anne. "Oh, love, she has to ask her mother for permission, isn't that right?"

"We'll talk once we're home," Anne crossed her arms. "Josephine stole someone's lunch today."

"I didn't!" Squealed the four-year-old, her big eyes widening with outrage. "I traded it!"

"Mum doesn't like it when you do that, you know it," Emily reprimanded.

"Telltale!" The little girl pointed at her eldest sister and scowled.

"Josephine, don't point at your sister like that!" Anne scolded them. "Lin..." the woman turned to Mel's daughter and spoke in a polite tone. "I'll let you know before dinner, okay?"

Emmeline looked between the two girls and their mother, she decided not to press the subject. "Okay, thank you..."

"Thank you for bringing the twins," Mel said, giving back the drawing to her son.

"Don't mention it, it'll be your turn tomorrow," her friend replied.

Mel got up and smiled at Anne briefly, sometimes she was glad she didn't have kids that varied much in age, it seemed harder to keep up with all of them. Anne and Erick loved their children, but they were challenging more often than not.

"See you!" James waved enthusiastically when their friends started to leave.

Mel took her kids inside and took their backpacks. Harry's voice came from the babies's room.

"Are the twins home?"

"DAD!" James ran up the stairs and nearly gave them a heart attack, but the boy got to his father unharmed. "I drew you!"

Harry picked him up and seized the drawing his son was offering to him. The man's smile grew. "I do think blue is my colour. What do you think, Mellow, should I dye my hair?"

"Go for it," Mel replied humorously, taking Emmeline's coat and hanging it next to the door. "Matt and Lily?"

"Taking a nap—that means no yelling," Harry said the last part giving a pointed look to his son, who was already trying to escape his hold to look for his younger brother.

"But I want to show my drawing to the babies," James pouted.

"You can show it to them during dinner, come on..."

"Dad," Emmeline stood at the last step of the staircase anxiously. "Can I tell you what I want for my birthday?"

Mel and Harry shared a look, they still had a little more than a month to go before the twins's birthday, but Lin's attitude intrigued them.

"Yes, darling?"

"I want an owl," she said shyly.

"An owl?" Mel raised a brow. "Why?"

"Hedwig is too old to fly," Emmeline said, repeating what her father had mentioned a few days ago during breakfast. "But I'm learning to write—And... well..."

"She wants to write to Uncle Paddie," James giggled like he was telling them a secret. "Because he's writing to the Flint girls, and he's writing shmancy things like 'Yours truly'—Josephine said that he likes her sisters more than he likes us, and it made Lin cried."

Mel looked at her daughter. "And you want an owl so you can send letters to Reggie?"

"Yes." The girl admitted, squeezing the fabric of her shirt between her chubby fingers.

"But you can't write yet," Harry pointed out.

"But I'll learn!" Their girl whined, and it looked like she was on the verge of tears, but Emmeline could cry on command, so Mel and Harry stared at her unfazed.

"I have a better idea," Mel knelt next to her daughter and held her hand. "How about I help you write a letter for Reg? We can surprise him before the school year ends."

"Can I sign it so it says 'your dearest niece'?" The girl asked, her baby-blue eyes glistening with hope.

"Well, it's your letter, so you must," Mel held back a grin.

Emmeline liked romanticizing the little things in life and often suffered from her brother's plainer approach to it (he was a lot like Harry). Lily was too young to join her sister's imaginings, so it was Mel's duty to take her daughter's fancies very seriously.

"Can you please send him the drawing I made, mummy?" James requested.

Mel laughed then. "Sure we can, Jamie."

Next chapter ->

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @reverse-hxlland @hamiltonwc @omiwashere @t-rexs-world @21bruhs @dielgonacoffee @thelastpyle @cedricisnotdead @greengarsstuff @aconfusedslytherin @talksoprettyjjx @avengersz-biotch @23victoria @moonhoonie @raajali3 @peachyaeger @espressopatronum454 @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual  @na1ven3vy

[linasofia]

Love Never Dies

Part 2

Fandom: The Man from Rome

Relationship: Father Lorenzo Quart x OC Palmira

Summary: After returning to his hometown, Father Quart comes face to face with his past. His life, as well as the choices he made as a young man, are turned upside down and he is once again forced to make life-changing decisions. But at what cost?

Words: 2,2K

Warnings: Angst. 18+

A/N: This is the second part of this fic. You can read the previous part here.

His mother is only a shadow of the strong and independent woman she once had been. Her hair is more silver than brown, and time has made her skin thin and deep characteristic wrinkles now grace her once smooth face. An artificial calmness always surrounds her these days, the collection of medications standing on her bedside table provides her with, among other things, a good sleep. Her best years are behind her, but she shares her son’s faith and he gives her spiritual comfort every week and reminds her that good deeds will be rewarded. Father Quart smiles at his mother, whose eyes seem to brighten every time he enters her bedroom.

”How are you feeling?”

”I am very tired, Lorenzo. Life is slowly slipping from me, I feel it in my body.” She looks him straight in the eyes, and he knows she is right. He had a long conversation with his mother’s doctor the previous day and he understands the prognosis. And age is not to her advantage.

”I have something of great importance to tell you and it might cast some light over your own life. And maybe it will help you understand the choices I made, long ago.”

Father Quart watches in silence how his mother briefly closes her eyes as if trying to collect enough strength to carry on. Her breathing is shallow and she looks worn out in a way he did not notice earlier. Her usually pale skin is ashy and her lips dry. He hands her the glass of water he refilled before he went down to get the folder from her basement, and she gratefully accepts it and drinks a few small sips. Without taking her eyes from her son, she searches for the right words to start with. He can tell by the change in her eyes that it is causing her much pain. Gently, he squeezes her hand.

“Perhaps you shall rest and tell me another day.”

“No, Lorenzo. I have already waited too long. I am afraid that if I do not tell you now, it will never be said.” She smiles weakly. “There is nothing to gain from keeping this from you. You have the right to know, since it concerns you. And your father, Riccardo.”

Father Quart stiffens at the last of her words. His whole life, until this day, he has wondered if they ever were to talk about the man his mother did everything to avoid speaking of. When he was a boy, Father Quart was not allowed to ask about his father, and that affected him deeply. He had read enough psychology along with his theological studies to understand some of his behavior as a child. Without his faith, he was convinced that the damage would have been even bigger.

“I am sorry I did not find the strength to tell you sooner, but I was afraid you might turn from me. It took many years for us to get this far and I cherish what we have today very much.”

“Mother,” he says in what he hopes is a soft tone. “Whatever you tell me will never stand between us, I promise.” He is not really sure about the truth in his words, but he knows that he at least will do his utmost to try to understand.

She squeezes his hand back, takes a deep breath, and starts to tell him a story that begins almost fifty years earlier.

“As you know, I was older than most women were back then when I had my first, and as it turned out, my only child. I had given up the idea of finding the right man and focused on living the life I wanted without someone holding me back. So when I met your father, my heart was rather inexperienced and he swept in like a storm and turned everything in my life upside down. He was an intense man, strong, eloquent and very handsome.” Her voice grows in strength when she reaches for his cheek. “You look so much like him. You share the same color in your eyes, you have his patrician nose, and even your voice resembles his more than you can imagine.”

Father Quart smiles back at her, confused by her words. He is not used to her openly talking about her feelings and especiallynot about the past. They usually speak about the present and they are both comfortable with that. This is new territory. His mother repeats twice how the man seemed to be the perfect match for her, but all Father Quart can focus on is the question in his mind: How did it all go wrong?

“We had not been a couple for long, but he was very passionate and I was madly in love with him, so I let him have me in a way I knew deep inside was reserved for the marital bed.”

Father Quart lets out a small gasp. He always assumed that his mother had at least been engaged to his father. “Do not look at me like that, Lorenzo. I was no saint, I have never been.” He smiles, then nods encouragingly and she continues.

“I found out I was pregnant only two months after our first night together. I was scared and thought he might leave me so I did not tell him right away. I do not know if he sensed it anyway, for he acted differently after that. He became cold, violent, he spoke differently and then—” Her voice breaks and tears well up in her eyes. Father Quart stares at his mother sobbing in her bed, unable to cope with the look in her eyes. Then he finally connects with his compassion again and leans forward to embrace her. His heart beats hard and he both wants to know and dreads what is coming.

“What happened, mother?” he mumbles in a shaky voice, and the forbidden question he has waited a lifetime to say feels loaded on his tongue. A small whine is heard and he silently curses himself for inflicting pain upon his fragile mother. When her answer gets caught in her throat, he does not repeat his question, but instead holds her close. Finally her small words find their way into the air.

“Then…he bit me.” she says quietly and at first he wonders if he heard correctly. Father Quart releases her and sits straight up.

“What do you mean?”

She looks back at him with a tortured look in her eyes. “What I said. He bit me. Hard. And he enjoyed it. Look.” She tilts her head to the side, pulls her nightgown to the side and Father Quart leans in to take a better look. Two pale identical scars stare back at him. He has never noticed them before and in shock, he meets his mother’s gaze again.

“He bit you? Why? It must have hurt enormously?”

“It did. I passed out from the pain. When I woke up he was gone. But he had put me in bed with a badly wrapped bandage around my neck. I had lost a lot of blood, my body was weak but the wound was not bleeding that much. It was a mystery to me. I never went to the hospital since the bleeding stopped by itself and I never reported it to the police in fear of not being taken seriously. The shame of what had happened was stronger than anything. I hid the wounds and then later the scars, afraid to be judged, and until this day I have never spoken about it.” Her voice is hollow now and Father Quart worries how much more she can take.

“I did not see him for years after that incident. I gave birth to you alone, told the midwife that the father had died and she asked no more questions. I was prepared to raise you alone and we would have made it just fine, if he had not been standing on our doorstep one day.”

She closes her eyes as if in physical pain from the memory. “Thankfully, you were playing at our neighbor's house that afternoon. I do not know what would have happened if you had been home, but I thanked the Lord you were not.” Anger and frustration rise in her voice. “He was a changed man, Lorenzo. He really scared me and what was even worse; he threatened to take you. I do not know how he knew about your existence and how he found out you were his son. I can only assume that he had made inquiries.” New tears fall on his mother’s cheeks, and Father Quart reaches for a handkerchief. “I did not know what to do. So I went to see Father Benedetti first thing the morning after. I pleaded to his goodness and I was overwhelmingly grateful when he accepted to take you to his home. I needed to protect you and I did what I thought was right. It was not meant to be a permanent solution but your father searched for you for years. I did not dare to let you back here. I would never have forgiven myself if something had happened to you.” She chokes on the words and covers her face with her trembling hands. “Will you ever forgive me for leaving you with Father Benedetti?”

Father Quart moves closer to her and pulls her into her arms. Her fragile body shakes when she relives the painful memories and he knows he cannot stop them. He can only try his best to comfort her. After what feels like an eternity she finally relaxes and leans back on her pillows with a deep sigh. Drained of the last of her energy, Father Quart realizes that she needs to rest. His beloved mother looks utterly exhausted, and he offers her some water before he tucks the duvet closer to her body.

“Let us not speak more of this now. If you want me to, I will come back tomorrow. You should try to sleep, the doctor said rest is important.”

“You are always welcome here, Lorenzo. You know that, do you not?”

“I know.” He bends down and places a gentle kiss on her cheek and she answers with the type of soft stroke only the loving hand of a mother can give.

“I will bring you something from the bakery tomorrow. The doctor also said you eat too little.” He smiles warmly at her and when she returns his smile, he notices how red her eyes are after all her tears. How he wishes he could take her pain away.

The evening is chilly when he steps out in the dark, a cold wind is coming in from the sea, and he pulls up the collar on his coat. Then he tucks his hands in his pockets and makes a mental note about digging out his gloves from the large dresser in his hallway. His thoughts are running wild in his mind; there is so much to process and he tries to catalogue all of it in his confused brain. Instead of heading straight home, he decides to take a long walk down to the dock. Maybe some fresh air will help clear his mind from the turmoil he feels inside.

The dock is almost abandoned, and a few lonely streetlamps cast pale lights over the part of the area where walking is allowed without having a badge. Father Quart looks at the sky where stars start to appear. They have always fascinated him, and he smiles fondly as he remembers how he used to sneak out when Father Benedetti was sleeping peacefully in his bed. The backside garden was not illuminated at all, and from there he could watch the stars. Sometimes he brought a starmap from his school book and a flashlight, and then spent hours in the dark trying to find out what stars and constellations he could see. Over his head now sits Orion’s belt, and its three stars gaze down on him in silence. He shivers. The wind is merciless but it helps to sort out the details in his conversation with his mother. So much was said but it raised even more questions. Father Quart cannot find answers to them all from what he was told and he senses there is more. Something that has to do with the folder. She did not even touch it, yet it was important that he brought it up from the basement. He promised to be back the following day, maybe he will get more answers then. Right now the only thing he knows for certain is a name: Riccardo.

He turns and walks briskly away from the dock. He needs to get home to his computer. It is time to contact one of his few remaining friends, an odd man he met during a philosophy class years ago. A man he supposes still moves in the shady parts of cyberspace. Maybe he can help with tracking Riccardo. Sleep is overrated.

Did you like it? Please like, comment or/and reblog! ❤️

Taglist and others who might be interested: @lathalea @legolasbadass @laurfilijames @i-did-not-mean-to @enchantzz @fizzyxcustard @middleearthpixie @xxbyimm @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @kibleedibleedoo @mariannetora @haly-reads @sunnysidesidra @rachel1959 @knitastically @jaskierthelover @quiall321 @medusas-hairband @fulltimecrazy @s0ftd3m0n @emrfangirl @glimmering-darling-dolly