#and yet 2 hours later i regained consciousness to a finished piece

[sproutlingart]

yo who pissed off this hockey player??

[prints of this piece here!]

#rottmnt #rise of tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #unpause rottmnt #save rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt fanart #rottmnt casey jr #rottmnt casey jones #digital art #fanart #this was supposed to be a quick sketch #and yet 2 hours later i regained consciousness to a finished piece #artwork #artists on tumblr #sproutlingart

[confused-stars]

hawksweek2020 - Day 2: Wholesome Gen

@hawksweek2020 ___ Dark Shadows and Red Feathers (or: i accidentally write way too much angst but somehow manage to turn it wholesome in the end)

___ All he could see was smoke. All he could feel was smoke, too, which was a whole lot more problematic. There was nothing solid enough for him to stab a feather into, or to punch and kick at, and he was flailing, trying to stay airborne as his lungs burned with the need for oxygen.  Hawks could easily handle any sort of physical quirk, and most emitters, too, but this… this was almost as bad as fire. He hadn’t been able to sense the villain about to get the drop on him, because there had been no solid form his feathers would have alerted him of. No vibrations to tune into. And now he was wrapped up in a thick cloud in it, and it felt like the viscosity was changing, almost like a gaseous tar sticking to his wings, cutting off his airways… “Hawks!” 

Tokoyami. Hawks rolled around in the air, trying to shake off the smoke, somehow… he had no idea how to get it off of him, and he wasn’t falling yet, but it was only a matter of time. He could already feel the familiar dizziness that came with being cut off from air for too long. Part of his brain focused on his feathers, several of them dancing around himself and the smoke villain, trying to poke at their defenses, trying to get him out, but none of it was working. He called the feathers back into his wings in an attempt to use them to balance himself for the time being, but his control was slipping… fuck, even if Tokoyami managed to catch him, that would only mean the kid would get enveloped in the smoke as well, and then they’d both be incapacitated. Hawks closed his eyes, the darkness made no difference, and continued gasping for air, if he could only get one good breath, then his mind would be cleared and he could do… something. Anything. “Dark Shadow, no!” A noise like a roar, and like a powerful wind, and maybe a little like thunder, was the last thing Hawks heard before he lost consciousness.

 He came to about twenty feet above the ground, and immediately spread his wings to break his fall, swooping low above the heads of terrified civilians. There were some screams, a handful of scattered cheers, and Hawks took to the sky again, gasping in lungfuls of precious night air. He still felt like there was tar or something like it stuck to some of his feathers, and his flight was a little more sluggish than usual, but he was up and awake and… oh, no. Oh, shit. The smoke villain seemed to have disappeared in the seconds he’d been out, but this was a much, much bigger problem.  Dark Shadow was spread out in the air between two skyscrapers, massive and dark and buzzing with power, eyes glowing menacingly. Hawks couldn’t even see Tokoyami.  He’d heard of this, of course, he would be a terrible hero if he didn’t do his research, but he’d never actually seen Tokoyami lose control. The kid had told him that it only happened at night, and if his emotions got the better of him. And with how in control Tokoyami usually was, especially for someone his age, Hawks had just decided not to worry about it too much while still keeping an eye out.  Why was Dark Shadow acting up now? Was it because…   “Hey, big guy!” Hawks rose with a few slow beats of his wings until he was near Dark Shadow’s head, though close enough to dart away if he needed to. “I’m okay, see? All in one piece! You did good!” Whatever he’d done. Hawks would get the story later. “So you can let Tsukuyomi go now, alright?”  A tendril of shadow swiped his way, and Hawks dropped down a few feet to dodge, it, spiraling up higher once he regained his balance. “Come on, hey, it’s okay! You can calm down now…”  Maybe there was no reasoning with him when he was like this. Hawks didn’t entirely understand Dark Shadow, but apparently even Tokoyami kept learning new things about his quirk. They communicated well enough, the shadow being’s personality an interesting contrast to Tokoyami’s serious demeanor. There was none of that visible now though. Just something that anyone without knowledge of the situation would have called a monster.  “Tsukuyomi!” Hawks swerved sharply to the left when Dark Shadow tried to hit him again. Good thing he was focused on this now, and not on the people on the streets below. Hawks didn’t think that Dark Shadow was malicious in this form, but he probably wouldn’t care about any destruction he caused. Until he snapped out of it. So, Hawks needed to solve this quick. “It’s alright, kid, I’ve got this! I’ll get him to calm down, you’ll be safe in no time!” And Hawks dove straight at Dark Shadow, narrowly dodging his shadowed beak as he flew a tight circle around his head, then dove underneath his form, only to shoot up again and flash him a bright grin. “Come catch me!”  Dark Shadow immediately rose to the challenge, and Hawks didn’t even have a moment to be relieved, because fuck, he was faster in this form. Hawks weaved his way through the sky, keeping them both far above the upturned faces of the civilians, and dodged and rolled whenever necessary – until he found what he’d been looking for. A massive billboard advertisement (for Best Jeanist’s newest Winter line) lit up by four floodlights from below.  Several feathers shot out to cut away at one of them, causing it to shift slightly, creaking with the movement. It was unstable. Hawks allowed himself a tiny grin, he loved when his on the fly plans worked out the way he intended.  “Just a little further, buddy, you almost got me!” he called, rounded the billboard, and used his momentum to slam his feet against the damaged floodlight. The impact rattled his bones, and he let out a tiny noise of pain, but the light was pushed aside, beam hitting Dark Shadow directly in his yellow eyes. There was a screech that sounded almost pained, and his form began to shrink.  Hawks was already up again, and he didn’t hesitate, wings carrying him right to the middle of where the quirk’s most dangerous manifestation was shrinking to. He still couldn’t see much past the darkness, but his arms closed around a solid body, and a moment later, he was hovering in the air with a shivering Tokoyami in his arms. Dark Shadow was nowhere in sight.  “Hawks,” Tokoyami gasped, and fuck, were those tears? The kid was clinging to his jacket, and he didn’t seem to feel up to saying much more. Hawks could understand that. He beat his wings backwards and brought them to the roof the billboard stood on – and there was some minor property damage for the night, great – and landed them both carefully, holding onto Tokoyami until he was sure the kid was standing on his own. Then, he pulled away to check him over. Aside from being obviously upset, there were no visible injuries. His hero costume might be concealing most of them though.  “Tsukuyomi. I need you to focus. Are you hurt anywhere?” Tokoyami shook his head. “N-no. Hawks, are you… you almost…” “But I didn’t,” Hawks interrupted, half-worried about what would happen if Tokoyami got even more upset, and half just worried about his intern, period. “You saved me. And yeah, it went a little south after that, but thanks to you I was there to do damage control.” He patted Tokoyami on the head, and it was more than enough proof of the kid’s state that he leaned into it with a quiet crooning noise rather than pull away, embarrassed.  It had to be a nightmare to be trapped by his own quirk like that, unable to move or stop himself from being, essentially, an accessory to whatever Dark Shadow did. Like attacking Hawks, for example. Did UA have a decent councilor? They should. Hawks had to remember to let Eraserhead know about this, at the very least. They were supposed to inform UA about any unusual happenstances during patrol anyway, and this definitely counted.  Hawks pulled out his phone and checked the time. They still had a little more than two hours left on patrol. But a sideways glance at Tokoyami assured him that there was no way the kid could go on. Now, he could always send him back to the dorms and finish the patrol by himself, but… he couldn’t just leave his little intern alone to deal with this. Because he wouldn’t go and find someone to talk to, that wasn’t his style. He’d just hide away and brood and feel guilty. Hawks could not let him do that. He sent off a text to his agency’s group chat ‘The Roost’, letting his sidekicks know that he had to skip out on the rest of his patrol, and asking them to find an off-duty hero as replacement for him. This hadn’t happened a lot, but it wasn’t unheard of. Hawks had gotten hurt before, or hit by quirks that made him unable to finish flying his route, so they had a system in place for that happening. His agency, as far as it was his, anyway, worked like a well-oiled machine.  “What kind of food do you want?” he asked, looking up from his phone and over at Tokoyami. At least the kid had stopped shaking. He appeared composed again, like usual, but Hawks knew better than that. Now, Tokoyami tilted his head at him, eyes narrowing a bit in confusion. “… what?” Hawks waved his phone. “I just called out of patrol duty for the night, so we’re getting food and watching a movie.” Tokoyami gaped at him, and Hawks crossed his arms, putting on what could probably be described as a pout. “What, you don’t wanna hang out with your favorite hero in the whole world?”  Tokoyami looked away. “… I would be fine returning to the dorms on my own. You have no obligation to mother-hen me after what just happened.” Hawks shook his head. “Nope. No, I will mother-hen you because I want to.” Certain people - Rumi, Dabi - already called him ‘chicken’ on a regular basis.  “You’re choosing to fuss over me rather than protect the people of this city,” Tokoyami pointed out, and yeah, he kind of had a point. This was definitely not how he was supposed to choose in this situation. But screw that. “Heroism starts small. Sometimes only with one person. You’re my person for the night,” Hawks told him, and apparently his tone was insistent enough that Tokoyami caved. They touched down on the balcony of Hawks’ apartment about half an hour later, with Tokoyami clutching a big bag of McDonald’s food to his chest. They’d decided on that since it was fast and Hawks could get a ton of chicken nuggets, which was always a good selling point.  As he walked over to press his finger against the scanner to unlock the balcony door, Hawks realized that Tokoyami was only the second person he’d ever invited to this place. Rumi had been here a few times, but even she didn’t usually hang out. They were both pretty busy, after all. It wasn’t even that much of a home to Hawks, who preferred to spend what precious free time he had up in the sky, or perched on a rooftop somewhere. More often than not, he ended up taking notice of some minor crime that way, and ended up working even during his time off. But he didn’t really mind that at all.  “Make yourself at home,” he told Tokoyami over his shoulder as he pulled off his boots, walked inside and headed straight for the couch. It was spacey, and absolutely covered in a collection of pillows and soft blankets, and he was completely unashamed of that fact. This was his space, and if he wanted all the soft things, then he could damn well use his hero salary to get them.  Tokoyami was a little more hesitant as he followed him inside, setting down their food on the couch table and looking around, scanning the room. It was probably not the prettiest, or the most homey looking. There were a handful of photos on the wall. A framed selfie of Hawks and Endeavor, the latter frowning into the camera. A photo of Rumi asleep in the grass on one of the first days they’d ever spent just hanging out. A photo of Tokoyami from the Sports Festival, looking serious with a medal around his neck. Hawks had gotten that from one of his sidekicks, and he’d hung it up because that was what you were supposed to do with photos, and he kind of liked it anyway. Tokoyami stared at it for a few beats, then turned abruptly around and pulled off his cloak before sitting on the couch.  Hawks opted for the carpet in front after getting out of his jacket and having two feathers carry it to its space beside the door. He stretched out his wings a little and looked them over, frowning. There were some black spots that looked like ooze. Felt like it, too, when he ran his fingers through it. He scrunched up his nose.  “Tokoyami.” He looked up, purposefully using the kid’s name instead of his hero name since they were off duty now. “Mind helping me out with my wings a bit after we eat? I don’t think I can reach all the spots to clean them.”  “Oh. Of course I can… do that, Hawks.” Apparently tonight he was just throwing off Tokoyami over and over again. But that was better than him being all withdrawn and guilty.  Hawks turned on the tv and then tossed the kid the remote. “Pick whatever you like. This movie night is for you.” He moved his attention onto unpacking their food, setting Tokoyami’s aside for him while the kid browsed through a selection of all horror movies that Hawks had never even heard of. He wasn’t a big fan of horror… but he’d suffer through it for his intern.  The movie that Tokoyami picked started innocently enough, though the vibe was a little off from the first second. Hawks didn’t know enough about horror to know if this was a common thing. He just focused on his nuggets, and Tokoyami ate quietly beside him.  There were no jump scares or anything of the sort, it was more of a… half creepy, half psycho kind of movie, and Hawks could say with absolute certainty that he was not enjoying it. He felt a little queasy each time the villain appeared, acting like a perfectly pleasant and friendly person and not at all like the monster they actually were underneath it all. Hawks preferred his villains clear cut and obviously scary, thank you very much.  As they finished the meal, Hawks took that as an excuse to flee from the movie for a little while, and he returned from the bathroom changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt and with a warm, damp towel.  He sat in front of Tokoyami and handed it to him, and the kid, after a moment’s hesitation, tugged his wing up and stretched it out, running the towel along the dirty spots carefully, but clearly with some expertise. Hawks didn’t know the difference between grooming his wings and what Tokoyami had to do for his shorter, softer head feathers, but he seemed to know what he was doing. Hawks focused on the movie, though he found himself much more comfortable now. The events of the night were catching up to him a bit, his throat and lungs still felt a bit raw from the smoke, and he was going to be sore all over the next morning, but mostly he was just exhausted.  “It looked like that warp villain,” Tokoyami said, during a quiet part of the movie. Hawks turned his head to look at him, but Tokoyami was focused intently on his wing, smoothing out some stray feathers. “From the League. The… the smoke villain, his quirk was reminiscent of that one. Seeing you get swallowed up brought my mind back to that night…”  Hawks nodded in understanding. He knew a little about the summer camp incident, mostly what all the pros knew, and a few minor details Tokoyami had been willing to share. He’d had a friend taken from him that night, and he’d had to watch. Having his mentor disappear in a much similar way… “It’s not your fault you had a trauma reaction,” Hawks found himself saying, “You’ve been through a lot for a kid your age. And you’re strong as he- heck for it. But it’s okay that you’re not perfectly in control all the time.”  Tokoyami gave him an incredulous glance. His hands stilled. Hawks pushed his wing insistently against them until he took up his work again.  “I mean what I say, chicklet. We’ll work on you calming Dark Shadow down on your own, but it’s not your fault that you got upset. People have emotions, that’s not something you can switch off.” How convenient that would be. “And you saved my life tonight. I’m proud of you.”  Tokoyami averted his gaze again, and Hawks turned back to the movie. They sat in silence for a little while.  “… chicklet?” Tokoyami finally asked, quietly.  Hawks tilted his head back and grinned toothily up at him. “Yup. Welcome to the nest. There’s no escaping mother-hen Hawks now.”  Tokoyami looked like he wanted to put that theory to test.  Good thing Hawks could outfly him any day.

#hawksweek2020 #bnha #i haven't written any action scenes in literal years it feels like #but heyyy its tokoyami because i love the birb gang #is this wholesome enough??? #i dont know why the angst got away from me so much #(because this is me and i cant have nice things unless i do a sad before)

[the-silentium]

Unsteady Pt. 2

Summary: When Y/N delivers her current target to the Life Foundation, she discovers that he is her soulmate. After all the efforts her team needed to get him in, they now have to get him out.

Masterlist

Pairing: Eddie Brock x Reader , Venom x Reader

Words: 2260 words

A/N: It’s long, sorry. I hope you like it !

You regain consciousness on a chair, in a bright room. You can feel your team before you even see them. You adjust your vision to the brightness and take in your environment. Your friends took all of you to your client, the Life Foundation. In front of you, there is Mr. Loser, attached to a metallic table and there is the black moving goo on the opposite side of the room.

You get yourself up and Jaya comes to you.

"Easy, you should stay seated for a while."

You shake your head. "No, I’m fine. Really."

You could already feel her power in you. Healing your mind with tenderness. You feel like floating. Then, your client comes in. Carlton Drake. Every time you see him, you have goosebumps all over your body, and today is not an exception. Everything that’s on his mind is honestly terrifying. At first, you wanted anything to do with this monster of a human, but you felt bad for the poor guy that was stuck with the Venom, so you gave your agreement.

"It’s perfect." Drake says, "Your team really lives up to its reputation. Your payment is currently transferred to your account."As on cue, a bip could be heard on Mike’s pocket to confirm that the money has been received."Now, I only have to make it up to you, Mr. Brock. All the pain you have put me through, now you will learn to respect people that are above you."

You stopped listening when Drake says your Mr. Loser name. Brock. You stopped breathing. You instantly connect your mind to him, one more time.

"What’s your name ?"

"What?!"

"Your name! What is it ?! Are you Eddie Brock ?"

"Yes. How can’t you know my name ?"

Not answering his question, you broke contact with him and join Mike. You tell him that this guy is your soulmate. He is the name tattooed on your wrist since birth. The goddamn guy you wanted to meet since your childhood but hesitate at the same time, because you have a hell of a life. Mike doesn’t answer right away. There is a silence that felt like hours and it makes the panic rises in you. Despite your reluctance to meet him, you always had this unconditional love toward the guy whose name was written on your body. After all, he was supposed to be the perfect match for you.

Mike’s loud voice gets you off your mind. "These kinds of parties are not our specialty, so we will go now."

Drake sends him away with his hand and all your team follows the leader. You feel betrayed and confused. Mike, Axel, Jaya and yourself always valued a soulmate. There was a rule in your group that said that if one of you finally found his or her soulmate, they have to let go off the team. Non-negotiable. Staying would put everyone in danger, and this was not going to happen. So, why was Mike abandoning you? To keep you in the team?

Abruptly, Mike stop and you almost bump into Axel. He turns to you.

"Don’t worry. We will get him out."

—————————————————————-

After explaining the plan to the others, you all returned to the lab where your other part was confined. You were stopped by the guards of Drake at the entrance.

"We need to talk to Mr. Drake. There has been a mistake." Mike says to the leader of the guards.

He looks at Drake and he nods his head. You can all pass. You let out a breath you don’t know you were keeping. You feel your hand sweat in your gloves. You have never been this stressed on a mission before. Mike goes to talk to Drake when you all stay near the entrance. You note the symbiote location, and you feel Axel’s hand on your arm. Everything will be alright. Mike gives the signal by punching Drake on the face and you take control of the 5 guards on the room. They are way more easy to control than Venom, even if they scream way more than him. They understand anything that is going on. You send signals to their brain to make them drop their weapons, and you lead them to another lab that was used for their tests human/symbiote. You close the door and release them. You make sure it’s locked when you return to the others.

Eddie has already been freed, Drake is nowhere to be seen and so does Axel. Jaya is currently healing your soulmate and Mike talks to him. You approach slowly and hear them:

"What just happened? You do a job, get paid and kill your employer! Not that I mind, but you guys have no honor !"

"Honor? Who has honor these days? And to answer your question, there was a change in the plan. Well, more like an unexpected detail."

"That is ?" He asks concern about his safety.

 "Not for me to tell and now is not the time. We have to hide you." Mike answers flatly.

With that, he gets out, followed by Jaya and Axel sometime later. You stay behind and point to Venom. "You can take him back if you want. But please, control him. We want to help you."

"Yeah, like you helped me back there and like you helped Drake and betrayed him afterward."

You feel guilty. You hurt him. Your soulmate. And now, he doesn’t trust you. You understand it. You wouldn't trust yourself either if the sides were reversed. Eddie went to Venom prison and after analyzing the container, he finally freed him. It took no time for the symbiote to take control of Eddie’s body and lunge toward you. He pushes you on the wall and lifts you by your throat. Your teammates can’t intervene. You forbid them to.

You are face to face with Venom. His mouth is drooling of saliva, his teeth ask nothing more than tear your body in pieces and yet, you have no fear. You watch him dead in the eyes, and yet, you are limb in his hand. You feel his anger and confusion. You only lift your wrist slowly to his face and with your other hand, you pull your sleeve up. You remove your wristlet that covers your soulmate tattoo and the second Eddie sees his name on your wrist, he fights for control.

"Why is your name on her wrist Eddie?"

Venom can feel the distress in Eddie, the confusion, the relief, the excitement and something he doesn’t understand. Eddie has already talked to him about the name on his wrist. Saying that she was the part of himself he searched for longs years but never gets to find. He often dreamed of that unknown person, wanting to be complete and happy like every other couple on the street that had found each other. He had googled her name, but no luck. She was impossible to find. Eddie felt depressed, feeling he would never be truly happy. That’s why Venom lets Eddie takes control. He feels that Eddie needed it.

You see Venom return into Eddie’s body. His grip on your throat lose and you can breathe again. It doesn’t last long because the second Eddie can move on his own, he launches to you and takes you in his arms. He doesn’t let go for a long minute, and all he does is taking in everything about you. Your smell, your body that fit perfectly against him, your beautiful hair, he pushes away to see your eyes. He was breath taken by your eyes and how gorgeous you are without your mask.

"I finally get to meet you, love." He says while cupping your face.

You can feel his happiness, and it’s overwhelming. Your head is spinning, but you don’t care. You take all you can from this moment because you know that when he hears everything about you, he will go. Everyone that knows about you always go. You have always been alone, your teammates and Hidde being the only exceptions.

"Well, love birds, we have to get out of here. They will come back any time." you hear Axel says.

You turn to him and nod. Eddie lets go of you, but keep your right hand in his. You see in his look that he is determined to not let you go. Only if he knew… You then start running after your team, Eddie right behind you, still gripping your hand. The run is silent, everyone concentrated on the environment. Axel is the first to point the guards incoming. You have to hide behind a corner because Eddie keeps a firm grip on your right hand. You try to remove him by shaking your hand, but a black goo take over both your hands and you can't even move a finger now. Good. You can still shoot with your left hand but, to be honest, you suck. So you abandon the idea of helping your friends and keep both of you safe during the short exchange of shots. When it’s clear, you continue running. There. The door that leads to the back of the building. There, you steal motorcycles with your thief skills and you take the lead with Eddie stick on your back.

You feel his breath on your neck, and it distracts you. You don’t know how you have done it, but you all made it to your safe spot. There, you all disperse, going to your own safe house. You know the position of the cameras too well. You avoid them all, and finally get to an alley. You get down of the motorcycle, Eddie does the same and you push it behind a waste container.

"Will you talk to me now ?" asks Eddie

Yeah... you have been ignoring him during the trip. You take a deep breath and look at him in the eye.

"I will tell you everything, but can we make it to my house? The streets aren’t safe."

He nods and takes your hand with that same firm grip than before. You lead him to your apartment, and you stop at the door, key in the keyhole.

"Hey, um… I have a dog. Well, kind of. And he is overprotective and he doesn’t like strangers..."

"I love dogs." he says with a smile

You stop for a second, admiring his smiling face and nod. You are not very honest about this. Hidde is more than a dog. He is a breed between a wolf and a dog, so he is very imposing. You turn the key and open the door. The apartment is silent and dark. You flick on the light and say loudly while stepping farther in: "I’m home buddy !"

An orange flash then came from the bedroom and flatten you on the ground. You are assaulted by licks, and you giggle. "I’ve missed you too buddy !" When you big boy finishes to cover you with his saliva, he turns around and stares at Eddie, who is confused. You sense your companion tension, and you kneel beside him. "Hidde, that’s Eddie, a friend. Eddie, that’s Hidde, my wolf-dog."

Hidde is in fact, more a wolf than a dog. He weighs 70 kg and is 80 cm tall. He has the body of a wolf, the instinct too, but he has the behavior of a puppy. The fur on his back is dark-orange and is white on his belly. Like you, he has endured experimentations that gave him special abilities.

"Hi bud’." says Eddie with a tremulous voice while presenting his hand to your dog.

You scratch Hidde between the ears and encourage him toward your soulmate. You know that your orange dog will not hurt him. You just hope that he will not sense Venom as a threat. Eddie is not sure of what to do with a wolf-dog and you help him. You put your hand on top of his and direct it toward Hidde’s nose. Your pet smells him and giving his agreement, he leans his head a bit and you put Eddie’s hand on his head. Then, you release him and he is in awe. He pets him and soon, he is on the floor, being lick like yourself earlier.

You lift yourself up and go to the kitchen. You prepare Hidde’s supper and the second you put it on the ground, he abandons Eddie and jumps on his bowl. You pat his head and join Eddie on the couch.

"Your dog is amazing, even if I doubt that he has dog DNA in him," he says. You chuckle and a silent falls on you two. You are scared of what’s coming next.

"I have so much to ask you." he says softly, "You know, I’ve searched for you a damn lot. I was supposed to be a good reporter, but I couldn’t even find my own soulmate! Now, I think I know why I never found you." he looks at your clothing.

You shift a bit. You don’t really know how to answer. "Well, I’ve not been a mercenary for a long time… But I come from far, so you don’t have to be ashamed. There was no way in the world you would have found me." you answer with a little voice.

You can see in Eddie’s face that he is worried. He leans closer to you and put a hand on your shoulder, and the other takes a hold of your chin.

"Y/N. What are you talking about? Where do you come from ?"

"From Hell."

#venom x reader #venom #eddie brock x reader #eddie brock #y/n #you #fanfic

[just-another-fangirl-94]

When Are You Coming Back?

A/N: Request for Sebastian Stan x reader with the prompt 'When are you coming back?'

Warnings: Language, mentions of sexual situations, so much angst-I'm so sorry don't hate me!

Sebastian made his way home to his shared apartment with his wife of one year after being gone for four months. You had been out with him in LA for most of that time, but flew back a couple weeks ago to help your sister and brother-in-law with their newborn daughter. Little baby Alice was born several weeks early, but she was doing well and was discharged from the hospital. Every day you would send him a picture with you and baby Alice with the caption ‘when are you coming back, I wanna meet my uncle Sebby.’ Seeing you with a baby made his heart melt more and more every day.

As soon as he unlocked the door, he headed straight for the shower. He spoke to you not long ago. You were still at your sister’s and were due back home in an hour. You had no idea he was home yet since you weren’t expecting him to arrive home for at least another week or two. After he finished cleaning himself up, he sat in the living room and waited for you to come home. He perked up when he heard the door unlock and stood up to go greet you. When you opened the door and saw your husband, you were shocked.

“Sebastian?” You squeal as you run over to him.

He happily lifted you in his arms and gave you a sweet kiss. “Surprise baby.”

“I’m so surprised baby. I thought you were going to be gone for a while still.” You smile as you kiss him again.

“Yeah well I may have fibbed a bit so I could surprise you.” He smiles.

“You sneaky bastard.” You tease as he sets you down.

“How is my little niece doing today?”

“She’s perfect. Growing stronger every day.” You smile.

“You know I’ve been thinking.” He says as he slides his hands down to your ass. “Maybe you should chuck your birth control pills and we have one of those.”

“Really?” You ask excitedly.

“Yeah. I wanna be a daddy.” He grins.

You walk over to your purse, grab the birth control pills out, and throw them in the garbage. “Let’s make you a daddy then.”

He picks you up and pushes you against the wall. “I’m certainly going to enjoy the baby making process.”

You giggle as he starts kissing your neck up and down. “Me too.”

The next day you and Sebastian were walking hand in hand to your sister’s house. Sebastian was so excited that he was finally going to meet his niece. As the two of you were crossing the street, Sebastian saw an out of control car heading straight for the two of you. In a split second, he pushed you as hard as he could out of harm’s way. The car hit him straight on knocking him out cold. The last thing he heard was your screams before he fell unconscious.

Sirens were the first thing Sebastian heard when he regained consciousness. His head was throbbing. What the hell happened? Before he could gain the strength to ask any questions, he slipped back into unconsciousness.

When Sebastian opened his eyes again, he realized he was in the hospital. He started to panic as he searched the room for you. Was he able to push you out of the way in time, or were you hurt as well? His increased heart rate had the doctor and nurse rushing into the room.

“Mr. Stan you’re alright calm down.” He says as he starts checking your vitals. “You had an accident.”

“My wife. Please tell me my wife is okay.” He pleads.

“Sir you’re okay. Do you remember what happened?” The doctor asks.

“I-I was walking across the street and a car hit me.” He says as he tries to catch my breath. “My wife was with me.”

“Mr. Stan you were injured while filming do you remember that?”

What did he mean? He stopped filming weeks ago. “No I was hit by a car I remember.” Sebastian insisted.

“Mr. Stan can you tell me the month, year, and city we are in?”

“It’s August twenty-seventh, twenty eighteen and I’m in New York City.” He answers immediately.

“I’m sorry Mr. Stan. It’s November twenty nineteen and you’re in LA.” The doctor says.

“That’s impossible.” Sebastian yells. “Please tell me if my wife is okay?”

“Your friend Chris is here. Would you like to see him? Maybe he can help you remember what happened.”

“Chris is here? Why? Please I need answers.” He begs.

A few minutes later, the nurse brought Chris back into the room. Chris was worried because he saw Sebastian looked scared out of his mind. “Hey Sebastian calm down you’re alright.”

“Where is my wife? No one will tell me where she is.” Sebastian cries out.

“Your wife?” Chris asks. “Sebastian you’re not married.”

“This isn’t funny Chris where is Y/N?”

“Y/N? The makeup artist? Sebastian you and Y/N aren’t married. The two of you aren’t even dating.”

This had to be some sort of sick joke. This couldn’t be true. He had all these memories of the two of you. He still could feel you on his lips, smell your perfume in his nose, and hear your scream before the car hit him. Surely he couldn’t have made up everything in his head.

“Sebastian you were on set doing a stunt. Then a piece of equipment fell and hit you pretty hard. You’re going to be out of it for a little while it’s okay.” Chris said trying to comfort him.

Sebastian felt his entire world cave in. “So Y/N isn’t my wife?” Tears started falling on his cheeks. “But.” He paused. “It was real and we were happy. I love her.” He started to sob as Chris did his best to comfort him. He didn’t know how to live without you and he never even had you to begin with.

A/N: Now before you all ask I have already started a part 2 to this! Sorry for the angst!!

#Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan angst

[moonlit-seren]

Your Hand || Jung Jaehyun

Summary: Jaehyun and y/n had been dating for a while now but instead of wedding bells and festive cheer filling the air, all there is is disloyalty induced heartbreak and the piercing sound of sirens through the night.

Genre: Angst

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: Cliche, but what more could you expect from me? There may be a second part in the future, if I get over my writer’s block. Lol, I honestly need to stop writing angst but like…. Nah :p

꧁Masterlist꧂

~

~

Y/n’s POV-

Nose wrinkling, my slumbering body slowly regained consciousness. Groaning quietly, I craned my head upward to check the digital clock resting on the nightstand beside my bed.

2:46 AM blinked back at me. The neon blue lights casting an illuminating glow around my bedroom, disappearing for a second before reappearing the next. Disappearing and reappearing again. The cycle repeats.

Feeling a crick in my neck, I let my head fall with a soft thud back onto my pillow. My long black hair pooled around on the white pillow, as I realized there was an unusual silence in the room. Reaching my hand to the left, it met nothing more than a vast sea of blanket and empty air.

I slowly turned around, seeing no one beside me.

“Where’s Jaehyun?” I mentally questioned. The disappearance of my boyfriend also explained the lack of sound, normally he’d be quietly snoring beside me at this time. But for some reason, he was gone.

Feeling curious, I carefully swung my legs out of bed, throwing the warm comforter off of my body. Deciding to see where Jaehyun had gone, I walked across the room to grab my sleep robe and slipped on a pair of slippers.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not usually one of those clingy girlfriends but something just felt off tonight. It’s nearly 3 in the morning, why in the world would Jaehyun be out of bed? From what I’ve learned in the past 2 years I’ve been dating him, I know that he loves to sleep.

Nearly every morning when I try to wake him up and make him go get ready, he’d pull out his puppy eyes, doing aegyo in order to convince me to stay in bed with him for a few more minutes. It would always result in him falling back asleep with his arm wrapped securely around my waist from behind, and me having to rush to get to work on time half an hour later.

But lately, things have been changing. It feels like Jaehyun’s been drifting away, his mind occupied by god knows what, or rather, god knows who.

I should’ve been able to read the signs earlier, but I remained blind to the truth. Oblivious to what was going on until now.

I walked out of my bedroom and was almost immediately met with Jaehyun’s voice coming from downstairs. He was laughing at something and that was when I realized that he was talking to someone.

It appeared that he was in the middle of a phone call, located somewhere in the kitchen below me. Just as I was about to walk down the stairs, I heard something that made my heart plummet into the depths of my stomach.

“Don’t worry about her, babe. Y/n’s asleep.”

Tears pricked at the back of my eyes at the endearing nickname rolling off my boyfriend’s tongue, one that I thought was reserved for me only.

Remaining quiet, I slowly leaned my back against the wall behind me, head resting on it as I continued to listen in. The cool plaster sent tiny shivers down my spine, but I remained pressed against it finding the desperate urge to stay.

The voice on the other end of the call was too quiet to hear, but from what I could tell, that person was a female.

“I miss you too.”

These four words broke my heart even more. It felt like an invisible force was ripping my heart into tiny pieces. As much as I’d like to deny it, any fool could tell what was happening.

“Not him too,” I whispered, tears slipping down my face. I raised my hand to my mouth as I stifled a sob, back sliding down the wall so that I was now seated on the floor.

This wouldn’t be the first time something like this has happened. I caught my last boyfriend cheating on me with one of my best friends, ever since then I’ve had trust issues. Jaehyun was the one who came along and helped me out from my low place.

He showed me that not everyone in the world was like that, and almost instantly I fell again. Harder than ever before for the male who held my hand when I was recovering from the depression I had fallen in.

Now it was all happening again, but this time I was getting betrayed by the person who saved me before. The very man who I thought would be the one, who apparently had been hiding devil horns behind his angelic smile.

“I love you too.”

That was the final straw. Not able to stand it anymore, I stood up and crept back into my bedroom.

SIlent sobs wrecked my body, as I climbed back into bed. “How could he do this to me?”

I curled my legs into my chest, ugly wails slipping from my lips. Fortunately, the walls were soundproof, or else Jaehyun would’ve heard me and known that I had heard him. Many girls would rather give their boyfriends a piece of their mind, but right now I just wanted to be left alone to wallow in my sorrow.

Jaehyun was the first person I had let into my heart after the incident with my last boyfriend. Now all the pain from the past was coming back ten-fold as I laid there watching as history was repeating itself again.

“What did I do wrong?” I choked out, beginning to question my self-worth.

Am I really that ugly? Idiotic? Disgusting? Is the thought of me really that repulsing, that I’m not worth staying for? Why do I keep getting left behind?

All of my questions remained unanswered of course, met only with unbearable silence. Eventually, the tears running along my cheeks slowed as my tear-ducts ran out of water and all that remained were the fresh wounds from the events I had previously witnessed.

Jaehyun walked back into the room ten minutes later, guilt flickering in his eyes as he looked at my figure lying in bed as if it never left. The low lighting hid my puffy red eyes and the tears resting on my face. He slipped under the covers with me, slinging his arm around my waist like he always did. Pressing his chest against my back like everything in the world was normal.

Like he wasn’t just caught cheating.

Like he didn’t shatter my heart.

I wasn’t able to fall back asleep again that night, but the sound of Jaehyun’s breathing deepening signified that he had. During the time that I lay there on the mattress, a plan devised in my head, knowing that if I stayed here pretending that I didn’t see what I saw, I would’ve killed myself.

At 5:30, I worked my way out of Jaehyun’s embrace.

It didn’t take long to pack away a luggage full of all of my most treasured possessions. Or rather, most of them. I left everything that reminded me of the male laying on the bed that I occupied twenty minutes ago.

Jaehyun was still asleep when I finished, lying peacefully on the bed, completely unaware of my departure. Before I walked out the front door, I quickly scribbled down a note and put it on the dining-room table.

I put my luggage in the trunk of my car, before sliding into the front seat and starting the engine.

It was still dark out because the sun hadn’t risen yet, the peaceful hours of early morning a stark contrast to the storm brewing in my soul.

The realization of what I had just done hit me as I was aimlessly driving forwards.

I had thrown away any chance of ever fixing the relationship between Jaehyun and me.

Thrown away my last chance of happiness.

Like they had a few hours ago, tears raced down my face, blurring my vision.

My grip tightened around the steering wheel in anguish as I started to loudly sob at the pain of getting my heart broken again.

The crying was wearing out the last of the energy stored in my body, as I barely got any sleep last night. The 2 hours of rest didn’t suffice, as I could feel my body and mind slowly start to shut down.

Not caring at all anymore, I allowed my eyes to start drifting close. “Goodnight night, Jaehyun-ah… Sweet dreams, love.”

My hands slipped off the steering wheel, head laying to rest on it instead. Unable to think or process anything anymore, my eyes were very barely open.

Red and white lights raced closer in the last sliver of my vision.

And a split second later…

a crash followed.

•

Jaehyun’s POV-

I yawned softly, waking up to the sun gently hitting me in the face. I turned around expecting you to be there, but you weren’t.

Panic started settling in, as I didn’t hear the sound of water running from the shower either.

Climbing out of bed, I ran to the bedroom door, yanking it open to see if I could hear your voice anywhere.

The house was completely silent.

Fear started coursing in my veins as I dashed downstairs, running around like a maniac to see where you had gone.

Green.

A small green post-it note was lying on the table.

Walking up to it, my worst fears were confirmed when I read what it said.

.

_________________________

I hope you find the happiness

that I couldn’t bring you in her.

Love, y/n

_________________________

.

Not believing my eyes, I started yelling out your name hoping that this was some sort of prank. Hoping that you’d appear out of nowhere and hug me like you always do, while assuring me that you’d never leave.

But that didn’t happen.

Tear after tear started falling out of my eyes and I fell down on the ground in denial.

Deep down inside I knew that this was my fault, that I was the reason why you left.

And it was only with your absence, did I realize what a big fool I was to let the most precious person in my life slip away as if she were never there in the first place.

•

2nd person Pov-

Jumping into action, Jaehyun called everyone he knew, stammering out an explanation in-between his sobs.

Search parties were formed among his friends and family, but everyone came back empty-handed.

Jaehyun had proceeded to run all around town in a desperate attempt to find you, but you were far gone.

Giving up, Jaehyun’s body collapsed due to exhaustion. He was laying in the middle of the grass on an empty field, conscious but having lost the will to move.

A rain-droplet fell out of the sky, landing on his cheek followed by another. Soon it was pouring, but he remained there accepting it like the world was punishing him for his actions.

Abruptly, his phone started to ring in his pocket.

Jaehyun quickly extracted it, hoping that someone had found you and that you were safe in their company.

While it was true that the bearer held news about you, it wasn’t good news.

“Hello, is this Jung Jaehyun?”

“Y-yes, who is this?”

“My name is Lee Hyunsoo, I’m one of the doctors working at Seoul Eunpyeong hospital. A young woman named Y/N Y/L/N was admitted into the emergency room at approximately 6:14 AM, we believe that she’s your girlfriend-”

Jaehyun immediately hung up, running to the sidewalk in order to catch a taxi.

He told the driver the address, handing him $100 more than he asked for in order for him to drive quickly.

The drive lasted for 5 minutes and Jaehyun ran out, dashing into the hospital.

All eyes were on him as his hair and clothing were soaking wet, but he didn’t notice at all. “Y/L/N. Y/N Y/LN. WHERE IS SHE?”

The startled receptionist gave him the room number and Jaehyun desperately sprinted to go find it before the woman even finished her sentence.

Not bothering to slow down while rounding corners, Jaehyun slammed into several walls while turning, but continued to dart past nurses and patients as he ran forward to find the wing you were being kept at.

Only when he was right outside of your door did he slow down.

“Y/n,” Jaehyun whispered as he stepped inside the room.

Your lifeless body was laying on the single hospital bed in front of him.

Cuts littered your face and covered every inch of exposed skin peeking beneath your hospital gown. Bruises trailed dark purple paths dancing in large spots across your creamy skin. And your eyes, that once beamed with youth and liveliness, were hidden behind your closed eyelids.

The only sign of life from your battered body was the occasional, slow rise of the bed sheets with every breath you took.

An IV tube hooked up to the bed was injecting some type of medication into your bloodstream, and a heart monitor was displaying your pulse to the left of the bed.

Jaehyun took slow steps forward, sitting down in the visitor’s seat beside you while taking your hand in his.

Sobs starting coursing through Jaehyun’s body once again, for the nth time today.

He leaned down, resting his forehead on your hand while he cried there. The only other thing that could be heard besides the silent crying was the steady beat of the heart monitor. The green lines hopping upwards before falling down again, with no sign of the outcome of its patient.

“I-I’m so sorry,” apologized Jaehyun, before shaking his head vigorously. “N-no, I’m more than sorry. Oh god, how could I have d-done that to you? Please, someone, kill me right now.”

Silence ensued again once Jaehyun finished his silence.

Deciding to continue, he started to explain his actions slipping in apologies wherever he could along with self-deprecating comments.

“You deserve so much more than me, I’m nothing more than a careless, heartless scumbag. I don’t know what I was thinking, I’m s-so sorry. Please believe me, I-I didn’t mean to cheat. I swear, I n-never meant to break your heart. I-...”

Jaehyun broke down further, his tears running down more rapidly. He feverishly rubbed his eyes with his sleeve but it didn’t help as new tears replaced the old ones.

“I know that nothing can explain my actions, but please let me try. I-I’m not sure what h-happened but I guess it started the day I saw you playing with Doyoung Hyung. Y-you guys looked so happy talking, I guess I f-felt forgotten. Especially with the w-way your eyes lit up so easily, and h-how warm your smile was at him. I-it made me so insecure, I shouldn’t have been so childish and stupid… That was when I met Lea, she looks so m-much like you. My heart was so confused. And then she s-started her advances.”

He cleared his throat, trying to stop stumbling over his own words due to his tears.

“I… I was selfish and started seeking her love. Her smile and laugh mirrors yours, whenever you weren’t there I went to her so that it felt like you were always by my side. It was like I was so far lost in my own lies that I started seeing her as you. Y/n you have to believe me, I was only with her because she reminded me of you…”

“Please don’t leave… I can’t live without you,” he continued shakily, tightening his grasp on your hand before easing the pressure so as to not hurt you. A single tear slipped out from the corner of his eye, traveling down his pale cheek, before joining others at the tip of his chin and falling onto your hand.

A hand that Jaehyun feared he’d never be able to hold again.

“I love you, y/n.”

#nct #jaehyun #jung jaehyun #nct 127 #nct u #nct 2018 #fanfiction #imagine #oneshot #angst #nct jaehyun imagine #nct jaehyun oneshot #nct jaehyun fanfic

[redditnosleep]

Has Anyone Heard of The Left/Right Game?

by NeonTempo

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 (Final)

Sorry I’ve not been in touch guys. It’s been a busy month. However, I’m pleased to announce that, as of yesterday night, I’ve finally touched down in Phoenix, Arizona.

I’m posting this log from my first American hotel room, which offers a gorgeous view of both the state hospital and a local prison. Auspicious times.

Drop me a line if you’re in the city or if you have any information at all.

The Left/Right Game [DRAFT 1] 15/02/2017

As the darkness closes in, I find myself dragged deeper and deeper into the depths of my own subconscious, until I sink through the back of my mind into an indescribable place. A featureless, directionless, timeless void that exists at the weakest point of life.

I can feel myself drifting away, surrendered to an almost imperceptible tide, carried slowly but inexorably from the world.

The rest of the night unfolds in fleeting snapshots.

I briefly feel my body lift up from the ground, gravity pulling at my limbs as I’m conveyed through the forest.

An unknowable stretch of time later, I feel a distinct burning sensation to my right. In the world I currently inhabit, only an echo of the pain reaches me, but I can tell that it was once substantial. Unable to divine its purpose, I let the sensation fade away, before descending once more into the placid darkness.

When my eyes finally work themselves open, the sun is beginning to rise. Without an ounce of strength left in my body, all I can do is peer through my eyelashes, taking in the vague scene before me.

I’m in the back of the Wrangler, propped up against a soft pillar of luggage. There's somebody kneeling beside me, tugging at my right shoulder. When I try to address them, I discover that my voice has withered to a spectral whisper, so frail that it hardly exists at all.

AS: … Rob…

Hearing my voice, the figure shuffles round and kneels before me, staring into my eyes as they slowly regain their focus.

ROB: You just lay back Miss Sharma, I just finished patchin’ you up but I gotta make sure it’s good work.

AS: Wh… what happened to you?

ROB: Denise had me at gunpoint, had to act like I was all but dead. When she into the forest, I got free, took the med kit into the trees, fixed myself up a little. I was comin’ to help when I heard this awful noise. Went to check it out... that’s when I found you.

AS:... Is the engine running?

ROB: Wanted to warm up the place for you. You were in shock, and since the battery don’t run down anymore I thought-

AS: No I mean… how? The key, it got-

ROB: You think I’d risk gettin’ out this far with only one copy of my car key?

Rob seems almost insulted, and thinking back to everything I’ve learned about him over the course of this trip, I can see why he might be. Even in my weakened state I can’t help but laugh; though it admittedly comes out as stilted wheezing, diffusing quietly into the air.

AS: No that’s… that’s actually very “you”. I think Bluejay would’ve appreciated that information last night.

ROB: Yeah well, she didn’t ask.

AS: … I’m glad you made it Rob.

ROB: Glad you made it too. They build’em tough down in London.

I rest my head back against the luggage.

AS: I’m from Bristol.

ROB: Of course… yeah of course that’s… sorry…

Rob tries to recover his smile, but it slips quickly from his grasp. In its absence, his features cringe into sudden, uncontrollable sadness.

ROB: Miss Sharma I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!

Rob Guthard’s weathered face bursts into a heaving mess of tears. He repeats those two words as he lumbers towards me, throwing his arms around my waist and resting his head on my left shoulder. My hand feels like lead as I raise it up and brush it against his hair, holding him against me.

As the man continues to sob, I let my head roll slowly to the right, observing the damage to my arm. Last night, lost in the muddled throes of shock, the harm had been unquantifiable, the details drowned out by the encompassing haze of severe blood loss and a blaring, primal alarm which had forced me to move without questioning why. Now that I’m on the other side, bathed in the quiet warmth of the Wrangler, I’m able to fully assess the extent of my injury.

Everything below my right elbow is gone.

It feels almost like a dream. My upper arm is practically unblemished, save for a few dark bruises from last night’s fall, yet it descends an impossibly short distance before ending in a blunt, surreal stump. The wound itself is hidden from view, swaddled in fresh white bandages.

I can’t seem to figure out how I should feel and, consequently, I don’t seem to feel anything.

AS: It’s ok Rob. It’s ok.

ROB: I never… I never meant for any of this to-

AS: I know… I know.

Rob pulls back, his eyes still watering.

ROB: I’ll take you home, ok? I’ll find somewhere to turn around and we’ll get you home.

I can tell Rob’s offer is genuine, and to be honest I’m a little surprised. I still remember our verbal agreement, forged at the mouth of the tunnel; that he would not be turning his car around until he reached the road’s end. I never expected he’d be the one to renege on the deal.

I’m aware this could be my best chance to leave it all behind; to flee from the horrors of the road, before they take even more of me. I know the way back. I know that it leads to safety, to family, to blessed normality. However, as an insidious voice in the back of my mind quietly notes, it doesn’t lead to answers.

AS:... I’m still game if you are.

Rob sends me a heartbroken smile, which I would return if I had the strength. In that moment, a sombre understanding develops between us. An understanding that after everything we’ve seen, everything that’s happened, we’re both still choosing the secrets of the road. The decision reveals something about us, exposing a driving force behind our actions that negates our concern for survival, and overshadows the imagined protests of our loved ones.

It’s a decision only two broken people would make.

Rob spends the morning packing up the Wrangler, giving me time to rest. The fact that he’s walking around at all is remarkable, let alone conducting his usual routine at his usual pace. As I begin to feel life crawl slowly back into my veins, I wonder whether the strange force that has sustained us both, as well as the Wrangler’s fuel tank, could also have a mild restorative effect. The notion should bring me comfort; instead it makes me feel like a lobster in a tank.

A few hours later, Rob carries me out of the car, letting me rest in the doorframe. In front of me lie three mounds of dirt, raised slightly from the surrounding earth. Two are headed by crosses, formed from knotted sticks bound tightly together. The grave on the far left lies bare, bereft of any religious affiliation.

AS: Is that… Bluejay’s? Without the cross?

ROB: Didn’t think she’d want one.

AS: She wouldn’t have done that for you, you know.

ROB: Good thing I ain’t her then. I buried what I can, but that was some state she was in. Did the child kill her?

Rob goes to throw a foldable spade into the back of the car. For a brief moment, I consider letting his statement go unanswered.

AS: No, it didn’t… I did.

Rob immediately marches back round, his brow furrowed in confusion.

AS: I hid a C4 charge in my satchel. When she took the bag I… well…

I gesture to the bare grave. Rob looks as if he’s seeing me for the first time.

ROB: Where did you-

AS: From your son’s car.

I watch as my quiet assertion strikes Rob’s ears, as its meaning burrows through his consciousness, its implications contorting his features into a look of shame and damning revelation.

I can tell from his reaction that I’ve got it right.

We haven’t had a chance to speak since I learned his son’s name. That piece of information formed the crucial thread, stringing together the strange and seemingly incongruent discoveries I’d encountered on the road. Earlier in the week I may have been worried to confront him with this information, but things are different now. We’ve come too far, we’ve been through too much and, if he’s truly ferrying me somewhere with malicious intent, I’m powerless to stop him anyway.

I raise a weak hand towards him; a quiet request for assistance.

AS: I think it’s time we had a second interview.

Following a tense and guilty silence, Rob simply nods and helps me into the passenger seat.

ROB: It wasn’t military. It was commercial.

The Wrangler continues to crawl through the forest. I’ve stayed quiet for almost half an hour, letting Rob formulate a response in his own words, and in his own time.

AS: Commercial?

ROB: Yeah, explosive charges for controlled demolition. Bobby was in the business, had his own firm.

AS: You must’ve been proud.

ROB: Yeah… yeah he built that place up from nothin’. Tourin’ his office was one of the best days of my life.

AS: So… how did he end up out here?

Rob grows quiet, reluctantly accepting that he’ll have to start from the beginning.

ROB: … Bobby was a smart kid… smarter than I ever was. He coulda run the farm at 15 but, country life didn’t take. Instead he moved away to Phoenix, picked up a college degree, got himself a steady career.

AS: A steady career? That’s pretty rebellious for a Guthard.

ROB: Hah… well we were pretty different people… didn’t always get along. I was still a courier in those days, always jettin’ off somewhere new. ‘Course I went to Japan, stayed there a while. Then…

AS: Aokigahara.

ROB: That’s right. Changed everythin’. Came home after five years with a new hobby. Bobby didn’t care for the stories but... his ma had died sudden while I was away; we both wanted to start over, be in each other’s lives more so... he came with me to the Pacific North West, trackin’ down Sasquatch. Creature didn’t show, but Bobby had a good time campin’ so he kept joinin’ me. Before long he was doin’ the research himself, organisin’ trips, pickin’ up rumours of strange stuff all across the country.

AS: Sounds like a nice time for you both.

ROB: It was.

AS: So… was it Bobby who discovered the Left/Right Game?

ROB: … He called me up one day, outta the blue. This was about three years ago. Said he’d found a set of rules; said we should try out. To be honest, I thought our trippin’ days were over; I was back in Alabama and he was startin’ up a family of his own, but suddenly he’s tellin’ me to meet him in Phoenix so, of course I went along.

AS: And this time, you both realised it was real.

ROB: Bobby knew as soon as we reached the tunnel. He passed that way every day, knew it wasn’t supposed to be there but… there it was. He said that was the most amazing thing he ever saw. We charted it over the next year, whenever we could get the time together, but we moved slow, mapped the place out, turned back on the regular. It took us a while before we got the courage to stay on the road overnight, both of us were terrified the tunnel would disappear or somethin’.

I can tell Rob is replaying the events in his head. The reminiscence almost makes him smile.

ROB: Bobby’s wife was a real doll. Used to work in his office. Kindest girl I ever met, funny too. There was a decade between’em but you could tell they were good for each other. He shared everything with her, including the road. In fact, once Bobby got a little more secure with the rules, they started to map it together…explorin’ their own little world.

After a brief pause, Rob’s expression sinks slightly; the reminiscence is growing darker.

ROB: Few months go by, I’m hearin’ from Bobby a little less but, I expected that. Then one evenin’ I get a call from the hospital, tellin’ me my boy had walked into some ER in Phoenix.

AS: Was he ok?

ROB: No. He was in a bad way. Leg all busted up, delirious, askin’ for Marjorie. They found her bag in his car but... she was nowhere to be found.

AS: Bobby lost her on the road.

ROB: Yeah, that’s right.

AS: On our second night here, after we lost Ace, you told me the road had never hurt anyone before.

ROB: Well, that wasn’t a lie at least. It wasn’t the road that got’em.

AS: … What do you mean?

ROB: They made it to the forest. None of us had got that far before but… this time they pushed a little further than usual.

AS: Do you know why?

ROB: They were gonna have a kid. Marjorie was almost due… wasn’t travellin’ so well. I think they knew they wouldn’t be hittin’ the road for a while. It was like a uh… like a last hurrah I guess.

AS: But only Bobby came back?

ROB: They explored the woods till nightfall. When Bobby said they had to turn back… Marjorie didn’t want to. He never told me why, never told me what happened. By the end of that trip, Marjorie was still out there and he was in a hospital bed.

Rob takes a moment to collect himself, to put the facts in order. The trees are starting to grow thin, sunlight bursting through the widening gaps in the canopy. It looks like we’re nearing the forest’s end.

ROB: Bobby took a month or so to recover. Boy was desperate to get his wife back, and of course he’d become a suspect in her disappearance. Needless to say the first thing he did was head onto the road to find Marjorie.

AS: But he didn’t.

ROB: Nope… No he found her. Just uh… a little sooner than he thought.

I take a moment to process Rob’s implication. Suddenly I feel a stone drop in my stomach.

AS: She was on the 34th turn.

Rob nods solemnly.

ROB: Wasn’t the woman he knew of course. Stood there all day, just mumblin’ about the road. Didn’t even recognise him. I remember he called me up right after he first saw her there, his heart breakin’. He tried almost every day from then on, always stoppin’ at that turn. He’d yell, he’d plead, he’d bring pictures and gifts but… she never responded. Don’t know if it was really her but, whatever was on that corner, it belonged to the road.

ROB: Bobby lost somethin’ of himself on that corner. After a while, his fascination with the game turned sour, turned to hate. He thought the road was somethin’ evil, that it had no place linking into our world.

ROB: I was checkin’ up on him at that point, every few days or so. One weekend he said he was doin’ better, even said he’d been in to work. I thought maybe things were turnin’ round but... then he went quiet; didn’t pick up his phone for three days. I had my place in Phoenix by that point, and a spare key to his house. That’s where I found the note; tellin’ me he’d gone back through. One last bid to find his wife… and if he couldn’t bring her back well-

AS: He was going to destroy the tunnel.

ROB: Cut the road off from the world. I played the game in Phoenix, Chicago, a few different places, but that one tunnel is what links you to the road. I looked around his garage, found the box for a phone, lot of electronics all over the place… pretty clear what he’d done. So I jump in my car.

We pass out of the forest, onto a long narrow road. In the distance, I can see our route winding up a towering wall of sandstone, disappearing into a set of rolling mountains.

ROB: He passed me on his way back, just before I hit Jubilation. Thunderin’ down the road at full speed, drivin’ like crazy. That’s when I knew he hadn’t found her… that he was goin’ to take out the tunnel, end the game once and for all.

AS: But he never got that far.

ROB: I tried to talk to him. Called his cell, tried the radio frequencies, there was a number on the sim card documentation that he had, god help me I even messaged him on that one. In the end it was just me and him, racin’ back to Phoenix. He was faster than me but I was drivin’ better. After few bad corners I caught up...

AS: You ran him off the road.

Rob stares out at the faraway ridges, his hands grasping the steering wheel.

ROB: Cell service don’t work through the tunnel. He knew that. He was either goin’ to blow it up on this side… or while he was in there.

AS: So you were trying to save him or save yourself?

ROB: Neither. I was tryin’ to save the road... Say what you want about this place Miss Sharma, but it’s a doorway out of everythin’ we ever known. It’s the road out of… out of reality. It may be the most significant frontier we ever cross and that’s… part of me knew, that was too important for one man to take away.

For the second time today, Rob battles back tears, and for the second time, he fails. They roll silently down his cheek as he continues on.

ROB: He was more injured than I thought. He’d hurt himself bad before he reached me, that’s why he was headed to the tunnel so quick. He wanted to destroy it while he still could.

ROB: The road had taken almost everythin’ from him, and then I took the rest… I denied him his hope, took away his chance to leave the world on his own terms. In the end he didn’t even seem angry… he just asked after Marjorie. Asked me why she did it, why she left. I laid him to rest there, visited the place often but… I never had a good answer for him. That’s when I started preppin’ the next run.

AS: So you posted his logs online, and pretended to discover them.

ROB: Thought people would ask less questions that way.

AS: And where did we all fit in to this? Why did you bring us here with you?

ROB: I guess… I thought it was time the world knew. Didn’t want all this to end up an old man’s secret. Honest to God, if I knew the road was gonna… I swear I never woulda brought you here.

Rob’s features tighten, all his shame and guilt rising to the fore. I can’t say it isn’t deserved. Despite his intentions, despite his penitence, the man had blinded himself to clear dangers, hurt those closest to him and, on a road where secrets had killed so many, he’d kept the most significant one of all.

Well, perhaps not the most significant.

AS: You didn’t bring us here Rob.

Rob turns to me, confused.

AS: I met someone in the forest last night, a figure, just like the one you saw in Japan, “looked like static you see on a TV screen” … I think it was you Rob. I think I saw you and I think that… all those years ago…

In my current state, the mechanics of the event, and their stunning implications, lie beyond my explanatory capacity. In the end, I just raise my lost right arm, and wait for Rob to make the connection.

A moment later the car screeches to a halt.

Rob stares straight ahead, his knuckles white against the steering wheel. I’m aware that beneath his stone-set features, every square inch of grey matter is fighting to process the fresh revelation. If it’s true that, in those quiet woods, I somehow reached across the decades to a young Rob Guthard, then it changes everything. The twisting narratives that led us to this point, Rob’s burgeoning obsession, his son’s tragic fate, they all took root in that single moment. More than a decade prior to my own birth, I’d placed us on the path which would lead me to his door.

As chaotic as the road often seems, that moment in the forest hints at something deeper, something intentional.

Rob steps out of the car for a while, before wordlessly climbing back in and firing up the Wrangler. From that point on we continue as two silent passengers, lost in thought, disappearing into the sandstone mountains.

We travel across the thin mountain road for the next two hours, a wall of crooked rock hemming us in. When we pass onto the other side, and the outcrop falls away, the landscape below us has changed completely, and we’re treated to a strange and breath-taking sight.

The Wrangler is traversing the cliffs above a vast, flat desert; a tundra of vibrant orange stretching as far as the eye can see. I can just make out the road, cutting a meandering path through the sand far below us. At the centre of this otherwise featureless expanse, a collection of monolithic structures, towering columns of glass and metal, rise from the ground, connected by a web of long perpendicular streets.

AS: There’s a city… there’s a city on the road.

Rob keeps his eyes forward. Despite the epic majesty of the cityscape below us. I can tell that his mind is elsewhere, that he’s still digesting the contents of our interview. In the end, I think it best to leave him alone with his thoughts.

We stay on the mountain for another twenty minutes, before finally winding down to the desert floor. The space ahead of us is two-tone; the sharp saffron of the desert and the deep blue sky, separated by a thin, even horizon. The only objects that cross this perfect boundary, are the hulking grey towers of the city, rising from the sand, and bursting through into the heavens.

We snake along the desert road, the city looming ever larger as we make our tentative approach toward the border. There’s an eerie contrast to the threshold as we cross it; the cupreous glow of the sand switches to grey, the scorching heat instantly cools, and perhaps most notably, what little sound there was is negated entirely. As we delve down an empty, perfectly maintained throughway, I realise that I can’t hear anything at all except for the Wrangler’s steady rumblings.

AS: It’s quiet.

ROB: That’s fine by me.

AS: Who do you think built this place?

ROB: I don’t know. Maybe whatever brought us here. Could be that no one built it… maybe it just is.

I wonder if he’s right. It’s hard to think such a place would exist for any practical purpose. The city looks off somehow, as if it was built from conjecture, by an architect who had only heard of cities through poorly translated rumour. All the broad features are present, skyscrapers, lampposts, window cleaning platforms, but nothing deeper. It’s an empty shell. An ornament in the middle of the desert.

As we turn down the next few roads, I stare up at the monolithic structures, each one standing at least a hundred stories tall. My eyes track back down the countless strata of dark windows, as I contemplate what it might be like to live in such a place.

When I reach the ground floor, I’m presented with my answer.

There’s a young man standing at the ground floor window, his hand resting against the glass. He’s wearing a dark grey suit, and a look of almost mesmeric shock. His mouth open, his hands shaking, his unblinking eyes staring past us as the Wrangler rolls by.

My eyes quickly track back up the skyscraper’s glass facade, scrutinising each row of windows in turn. I’d naively hoped the buildings would be empty, that this place would be nothing more than a colossal ghost town. Now that I know otherwise, each pane of glass feels like a dark pool of water; still on the surface, but with sinister potential lurking within its depths.

A few seconds later, more of them arrive. There aren’t many at first; just a few scattered figures stepping up to their windows, pressing themselves against to the glass. However, like a light sprinkling of rain that erupts into a downpour, the frequency of their arrival quickly doubles, then triples, until not a single space lies unoccupied. The Wrangler shrinks, subject to the scrutiny of countless individuals, on every floor, in every window, all of them clad in the same monochromatic formalwear and staring down at us like the emissaries of a grand tribunal. As the Wrangler passes by, they continue to stare straight ahead, though it’s clear they’re aware of our presence.

AS: Rob. Rob there’s-

ROB: I see’em.

Rob puts his foot down, shedding the weight of a thousand pairs of eyes as he leaves the building behind. As the final column of windows slips by us, I glance back, hoping to see them return to the depths of the building. Instead, in those last few moments, I witness their collective demeanour fracture into a desperate frenzy, their mouths opening in a silent scream as they slam their fists against the glass.

Turning back around, I stare into the buildings that currently flank our vehicle. The figures have already arrived at the windows, and their calm is already fading.

AS: Rob, we need to go faster.

ROB: I’m on it.

The Wrangler growls with renewed ferocity as Rob plants his foot onto the gas. We lurch towards the next corner, accelerating down the road as Rob scans for any hidden turns. I achingly shift in my seat, keeping an eye on the scene developing in our wake.

Shards of broken window begin to rain onto the asphalt. Watching the shattered pieces tumble through the air, it’s apparent that the quiet in this city isn’t simply due to a lack of activity. The torrent of splintered glass is completely silent, even as it crashes against the impervious ground.

Nothing in this city makes a noise. Nothing except us.

The thunderous engine of the Wrangler has never sounded so loud.

Looking up, I witness hundreds of hands gripping the shattered window frames, unable to turn myself away as thousands of polished black shoes step over the threshold. The figures stream out from every floor, forming an incomprehensible deluge of humanity.

The first wave strikes the ground, with more and more landing against them; a heap of tangled figures struggling to separate themselves. Much like the residents of Jubilation, and everyone else we’ve encountered on the road, they appear impervious to the fatal harm such an act should impart. Those that landed on their feet hardly even stop, turning towards us, and sprinting after the Wrangler. It doesn’t take long for the rest of the writhing mass to resolve itself, its constituent individuals joining the frantic stampede, their chaotic charge and desperate screams bereft of any perceivable sound.

Even in the midst of the frenzied pursuit, as a foreboding shower of glass falls from every building we pass, the world outside remains silent; the chaos made even more incomprehensible framed against the ungodly stillness in which it takes place.

Rob screeches around the corner, drifting onto a long and open street. The roadway ahead is flanked by skyscrapers disappearing to a narrow vanishing point. As we race down this next stretch of road towards a large intersection, the ever growing mob bursts onto the street behind us, taking the corner with supreme coordination and continuing tirelessly in our direction.

A split second later, I’m struck by an abrupt and pervasive idea. It feels unlike any thought I’ve ever had before, less of a notion, and more a prescient hybrid of intuition and de ja vu, as if the course of action we must take is obvious to me, despite my not knowing why.

I force my voice above a grating whisper.

AS: Rob. We need to drop something behind us… something loud.

ROB: What’re you thinkin’?

AS: I uh… you just have to trust me ok? We still have most of the plastic explosive could you-

ROB: Nah, if you took out the blasting cap I ain’t got time to make a new one.

Rob’s glances into the rear view, then back to the road. I can almost hear the gears turning in his head.

ROB: But that the only explosive on-board. Think you can drive?

AS: I guess we can find out.

The car thunders across the tarmac as I clumsily grasp the wheel, shifting myself over and working my foot onto the accelerator. Rob lifts himself away and climbs past me into the back of the Wrangler. In my weak state, every shuddering motion makes my bones rattle. With each subsequent gearshift, I’m forced to take my remaining hand off the wheel and reach across to the stick. The effort is precarious and awkward, my aching limbs puppeteered by will power and adrenaline, every passing second a battle to maintain control.

The windows up ahead are starting to fracture. The noise of the Wrangler is carrying, and the entire city is starting to pre-empt our arrival. Behind me, I can hear the ripping of duct tape, the tearing of fabric and the clattering of falling luggage. I’m not sure what’s taking place behind me. I just have to trust that Rob has a plan.

I hear the back door swing open just before we reach the intersection, a metallic scraping along the Wrangler’s floor, and a pained grunt from Rob as he throws something onto the road behind us.

Reaching the crossroads, I slide my hand along the wheel and twist it sharply to the right. As the car lurches round, and onto the next road, I feel my heart sink dramatically. We’ve been overtaken. The windows ahead of us are shattered, the front doors lay broken on the street, and the building’s desperate inhabitants are rushing towards us, blocking off our only means of escape.

I slam my foot onto the break, and the Wrangler shudders to a halt, the engine stalling and cutting out. The streets are now spilling over, an overwhelming swarm converging on our position from four directions. I look back to Rob, and he meets my gaze, his eyes brimming with dismayed finality.

An explosion shudders through the air behind us. I look out the back window to see a shattered jerry can, one of Rob’s now superfluous fuel reserves, its dark green shell violently compromised, its contents spilled out across the road and cast alight. Now that the engine isn’t running, the echo of the blast and roar of the primal, balletic flame fills the afternoon air.

The trajectory of the maddened crowd changes instantaneously, the silent Wrangler has fallen from their collective attention, as they refocus onto the smouldering flames. Those up ahead continue to rush past us, streaming around the Wrangler as they scramble to the spilled pool of gasoline, digging their hands into the blaze, grasping hopelessly at the fire.

Delicately, careful not to make a single shred of noise, I climb out of the driver’s seat, joining Rob in the back of the Wrangler.

He addresses me in a confused whisper.

ROB: Why don’t they care about us? What are they doing?

AS: … It’s the sound. They want it for themselves.

I don’t how I’m so sure, but I know that it’s the case. The jerry can creaks and screams as the city dwellers tear it into smaller and smaller pieces, frantically examining every jagged scrap. With each passing second, as the fire dies down, the crowd grows increasingly distressed, as if a precious commodity is slipping through their fingers.

AS: They don’t understand it. They’ll pull it apart trying to figure it out and they’ll never get any closer… and then it’ll be quiet again.

ROB: Where you gettin’ this from?

AS: I don’t know, just a uh… just a feeling.

ROB: Well... pretty sure they woulda pulled us apart too. I’d say we’re pretty lucky.

AS: Hah, yeah… pretty lucky.

As the last of the gasoline is eaten up, and the fire dies away, the city dwellers remain in the streets. Devoid of their momentary sense of purpose, their prize vanishing into the ether, the crowd’s desperation fades into a hushed despondency. I watch them as they pass by, countless faces wracked with sorrow, their aimless shuffling forming a lonesome sea, a grayscale ocean that spans the desolate city.

The Wrangler is now adrift in the centre of that ocean. It’s clear that any attempt to start the engine would bring the entire city down on us, reigniting their futile hope, causing them to tear through the car, and anything inside it.

For the foreseeable future, we’re completely stranded.

ROB: Don’t worry about it, ok?

AS: I don’t think they’re going to leave Rob.

ROB: They’ll leave.

AS: Ok… and what then? They’ll still be everywhere.

ROB: Hey, we’re a smart pair. We’ll think of somethin’.

In the eerie, pervasive calm that surrounds us, I sit myself down next to Rob and lean back against the wall, with nothing else to do but wait for our situation to change. After watching the figures outside for over an hour, the only thing that’s different is a strange needling sensation that feels like it’s emanating from now absent forearm.

AS: My uh… my arm hurts… how’s that possible-

ROB: Don’t worry that’s uh… it’s called Phantom Limb. You got some sensation right? Like you still got somethin’ there? A lotta people get that after amputations. Here…

Rob reaches into his medical kit and retracts a blue jar of tablets. Twisting off the cap, he shakes two pills free.

ROB: You’re gonna need these for the pain.

I stare at the tablets for a moment, before collecting them from his open palm. He passes me his canteen and I swallow them down in two weak gulps.

AS: You have a lot of experience with amputations?

ROB: … More than you’d think.

My brow furrows. Though I’d meant my remark as a passing jibe, Rob’s response rings with a strange sincerity. It takes me a moment to realise why that is.

AS: I forgot... you were drafted. You never talked about it.

ROB: Been thinkin’ about it a lot though. Bunch of strangers brought together under false pretences, told that we were servin’ a grand purpose by some old liar. Guess it’s interestin’ how time repeats itself. Now that I think about it, he drove a Jeep too.

AS: Rob… I told you, you didn’t bring us here-

ROB: That don’t change nuthin’. Don’t change what I did… to you, to Bobby, to any of ‘em. Maybe you were there in the forest but I was the one who started this, the one who kept askin’ what was at the end of the road.

AS: What do you think is at the end Rob?

ROB: Startin to think that ain’t for me to know. I been movin’ from place to place so long, seen everyone else settle down. Far as I can see, the end of the road is just wherever you decide to stop.

I rest my head on Rob’s shoulder. He gently places his arm around me. It isn’t long before medication starts to take effect, quietly overtaking my already weakened constitution. The pain subsides, dulled along with the rest of my senses. The sun is still streaming through the windshield as my eyes begin to drift shut.

I watch the figures pass the window, my eyelids getting weaker.

AS: I don’t want this to be the end Rob.

ROB: I know Miss Sharma, I know.

The last thing I see before I fall into a dreamless artificial sleep, is Rob Guthard’s hand reaching for the rifle.

When my eyes work themselves open, the sun is beginning to set.

I’ve been moved. As my vision adjusts, it becomes clear that I’m still in the Wrangler. My head resting against a pile of fresh clothes, a soft travel blanket laid across me.

I glance around to find that Rob’s nowhere to be seen.

Momentarily forgetting the situation outside the car, I attempt to call out for him. The syllable catches in my throat as a shambling figure passes by the window, wringing its hands in despair and casting a long shadow through the car.

With a renewed sense of caution, I slide the blanket to one side, and slowly make my way to the up front.

The cabin is similarly empty, except for a single scrap of paper, torn from my notebook. It lies on the driver’s seat, a small object hidden within the fold. When I open it, I find my headphones and five neatly written words:

“Channel One To All Cars”

My hand starts to shake as I rest the note on the dashboard, slowly climbing through and placing myself gently into the driver’s seat. My heart in my throat, I insert the headphones into the jack of the CB radio, take a single, quivering breath in, and press the first button.

AS: Rob?

ROB: I’m uh… I’m sorry Miss Sharma.

AS: Rob, where are you?

ROB: Down the road a little. Got myself to one of the rooftops. I know I always hated cities but, once you’re above it, the view’s really somethin’.

AS: Come back Rob. Come back... please.

ROB: I wish I could. I do. But we both know those things ain’t leavin. And you need the car to get where ever you gotta go so… best I can do is make some ruckus, draw’em outta your way.

I rest my head against the steering wheel, bracing myself against the weight of his words.

AS: I can’t do this without you.

ROB: I don’t think that’s true Miss Sharma. I think whatever’s on this road… it wants you to make it all the way. All I was meant to do was bring you this far. Now you don’t have to listen to it, you can turn around and head home… but either way only one of us is drivin’ outta here. So I guess the only question left is... which way d’you wanna go?

AS: Well… are you ahead of me or behind me?

ROB: I can be anywhere. It’s your choice Miss Sharma.

In the wake of Rob’s words, in the shadow of the decision, I’m cast into silence; not because the choice is hard, but because I’m ashamed that it’s so easy. It was made the moment I first stepped into the Wrangler, and renewed in every perplexing moment since. The need to know, to comprehend, to uncover the truth has been with me all my life, but I never knew its roots ran so deep, that it would endure so ardently when everything else, everyone else, had been stripped away.

I stare into the rear view mirror, seeing myself for the very first time, and I have to admit I’m scared.

AS: Stay where you are Rob.

ROB: Hah… ok Miss Sharma… you ready?

AS: … Yeah. I’m ready.

ROB: Alright then… suppose it’s about time this thing did some good.

The shot explodes through the radio, before a faint booming echo reaches me on the quiet city air.

Its effect on the city dwellers is immediate. Their collective melancholy shatters in an instant, replaced by a renewed fixation. Before I know it, the disparate crowd unites once more into a stampeding horde, rushing past the windows of the Wrangler and back down the road towards the source of the noise.

ROB: They on their way?

As the last of the city dwellers disappear behind me, I run my hand across the steering wheel, and down to the ignition.

AS: Yeah… yeah they’re on their way.

ROB: Ok then... what’re you waitin’ for?

With a fateful twist of the key, the Wrangler roars back to life. The wheels kick against the asphalt, transporting me through the streets of the city. As I barrel away from the intersection, I see a small contingent of pursuers rushing around the corner behind me.

Rob fires the rifle again, maintaining the attention of the majority. The stragglers fall away in my rear view mirror, losing ground against the Wrangler.

I take the first left, then the next possible right, then another left, a few minutes later I eventually find myself on the last stretch of road, leading me back into the vast and empty desert.

ROB: So, you gonna make it?

AS: Yeah, I’m gonna make it.

ROB: Good. That’s good. Miss Sharma, if uh… if you find Marjorie, if you get a chance to let me know… well it’s more than I deserve but-.

AS: Of course… of course I will.

ROB: I appreciate that. Ok, they’re gonna be here soon so… I’m gonna go radio silent for a while. If I call, you’ll know I made it out. If I don’t call… you just assume I made it out, ok?

AS: Please tell me you’re going to be alright, Rob.

ROB: … It’s been a real honour drivin’ with you Miss Sharma.

The sound of a final shot reverberates through the radio, its echo drowned out by the roaring engine of the Wrangler. The world shifts around me as I burst out of the city, and back onto the desert road.

The way ahead is laden with immense possibility, yet as I disappear into the vastness of the desert, I can only think of what I’ve left behind. Rob J Guthard had his flaws, marked by loss, driven by obsession, his good intentions often paving the way to tragedy and heartbreak.

As the tears begin to roll down my cheeks, I decide to remember him differently; as a valued friend, a good man and, above all else, a great story.

No matter how you tell it.

#creepy #horror story #series #left right game series #author: NeonTempo

[mordoriscalling]

The Shrike and the Lark (pt. 7)

Jaskier and Renfri are disaster twins ruling Creyden. When the Warlord of the North knocks at their door, Queen Renfri and King Julian are at an advantage - they know him. As in, they know him. (Inspired by the Warlord AU and “the heart is a winged beast”).

(Pt. 1) (Pt. 2) (Pt. 3) (Pt. 4) (Pt. 5) (Pt. 6)

Credyen, 1237

Queen Renfri is stunning even at the brink of death. The expression on her lovely face is peaceful as she lies in her bed. Although her skin is sickly pale – almost white as bone – her beauty is still striking. Now even more so than usual, perhaps, if one knows how bravely she fights for her life in the state of unconsciousness, her every small breath being a great victory.

Six sets of eyes gaze upon her as she wages the crucial, silent battle. First, there is her brother, who sits in a chair at her bedside, holding one of her hands. His thumb brushes over her pulse point, and he observes her chest move with single-minded focus, as if her each inhale was his only permission to draw air for himself.

Apart from King Julian, there are three more men in the chamber: the Warlord, his right had Eskel and the royal healer Lem. The elf has just finished tending to the Queen’s wound, with the assistance of the mage Triss Merigold, who was called here because of her renowned skill in healing. Yet, even she, combining her efforts with Lem, could not stop the bleeding entirely. The bandages wound around Queen Renfri’s right collar bone are very slowly turning red in colour.

“I’m afraid the injury is too grave,” the elf healer says, “for us to be sure of Her Majesty’s survival.”

Bleak silence answers him. Triss Merigold and Lady Yennefer, present in the room as well, only nod at him. The sorceresses share looks of concern with the two witchers but no one speaks, waiting for the King’s orders.

The world does not seem to exist to King Julian. It is only when Eskel calls his name two times, loudly, that he jerks in his seat as if snapping from a trance. His gaze – hazy with tears, sorrowful, haunted – sweeps around his surroundings, finally noticing others.

“Thank you, Lem,” he whispers hoarsely. “And thank you, Triss Merigold.” The curly-haired mage inclines her head. “You have my most sincere thanks as well, Lady Yennefer,” he adds.

The roughness of the King's voice is a result of how he’s strained his vocal cords. When he discovered the state which sister was in, it drove him into a frenzy. So crazed was he with fear and worry that he refused to let her out of his embrace. As he howled in despair, chanting the words “Hiacynt, no!”, time was running out. There was no access to the Queen and thus, the King had to be dragged away and restrained by his lover. Eskel gripped him tight but King Julian kept trying to writhe out of the witcher’s strong arms. All the while, he screamed.

His frantic wails for Renfri nearly made the windows rattle. The sheer noise was distracting the healers from their work and eventually, the Warlord stepped in. Gripping King Julian by the shoulders, the White Wolf growled, “Stop! Stop this, or I’ll have to Axii you!”

The King shook his head, tears streaming down his face. He shifted his attention away from the witcher, towards the bed where his sister was surrounded by people trying to save her, but the White Wolf stood in the way, blocking the view.

“Don’t look, Jaskier,” he commanded sternly.

“I can’t,” Jaskier gasped out through the tears, “I can’t, Geralt, I can’t, I must see if she’s –”

Geralt grabbed a fistful of his hair, directing Jaskier’s gaze straight at his own face. “Focus on me,” he ordered.

Jaskier looked him in the eye and began crying in earnest. They stared at each other as violent sobs shook Jaskier’s frame. Slowly, his body relaxed into Eskel’s hold, and Geralt took his hand away. Eventually, Jaskier turned in his lover’s arms, weeping into the crook of the witcher’s neck. Eskel released him only when the healers stepped away from Queen Renfri.

Now, not more than half an hour later, here they are.

“There isn’t much to thank for,” Lady Yennefer replies grimly, “My magic didn’t work on her.”

No magic, in fact, has ever worked on the Queen. This includes healing magic. When Triss Merigold and Lady Yennefer joined forces to repair the Queen’s damaged artery, their endeavours were in vain. The haemorrhage could only be lessened in the traditional ways.

“Still,” King Julian insists, “I dread to think what would’ve happened had it not been for your assistance.”

Lady Yennefer’s help did prove invaluable. As soon as the Warlord realised that the Queen was severely wounded, he contacted the purple-eyed sorceress through xenvox, a device he always carries on his person. The mage came to the rescue immediately, portalling Queen Renfri and the rest of the hunting party back to the castle. The healer was called and Lady Yennefer brought Triss Merigold from Kaer Morhen. When King Julian appeared, Triss, Lem and Yennefer were already trying to stop the bleeding. If it had not been for the Warlord’s and Lady Yennefer’s swift action, the outcome of the hunt would have been tragically different.

Not that the fate of the Queen is decided yet, of course.

The King turns his gaze back to his sister. Lem interprets this as dismissal and leaves the chamber, so does Triss Merigold. Lady Yennefer follows soon after. The White Wolf chooses to linger, watching as Eskel approaches the King and grasps the monarch’s chin with his fingers, tilting his face so that they look each other in the eye.

“Lark,” he murmurs, “What do you need?”

For the first time since the King saw his sister near-dead, his face brightens.

“My wonder Wolf,” he coos. “I need a drink. Lots of it. And my lute.”

“I’ll see to it,” Eskel promises.

King Julian smiles, taking his lover’s palm in his own and laying a kiss upon the witcher’s wrist. “I shall write you the grandest ballad,” he vows, “After this... ends.”

Eskel chuckles fondly but does not reply. Instead, he just takes his leave, stopping momentarily upon witnessing the White Wolf’s stormy expression. The white-haired witcher composes himself quickly, though, and even squeezes his brother’s arm in as Eskel is on his way out.

Silence falls again in the chamber. King Julian traces the Queen’s pulse point with his thumb. The Warlord takes a seat by the door. They say nothing.

“You and Renfri hold hands often,” the White Wolf observes after a while.

King Julian nods, not sparing him a glance. “It’s something we’ve never... grown out of. We used to do this all the time as children.” He swallows thickly. “When I hold her hand, I know she’s there. Her presence keeps me from shattering into pieces. So much in our lives has fallen apart already.”

The Warlord has nothing to say to that. Grim hush reigns in the bedroom once more, the witcher and the monarch regarding Queen Renfri closely.

“I could’ve killed her,” the White Wolf confesses, apropos of nothing. “Back in Blaviken. I was ready to kill her and now... she almost died because of me.”

“Do not burden yourself with guilt, my Lord,” the King reassures him, “This is not your fault.”  

“You truly don’t blame me?” he inquires. The monarch denies this with a shake of his head. “Why?”

“I’m afraid the reason for it is a sentiment you don’t wish to speak of,” King Julian replies.

Before the conversation can continue, a servant brings a pitcher of wine. Soon after, Eskel reappears, carrying the King’s lute.

And so, the waiting begins.

The whole castle seems to hold a breath. Hours drag as everybody waits for news. For the first day, the Queen does not regain consciousness. Some healing potions are carefully poured down her throat by Lem and Triss Merigold, and her injury is tended to by them as well. Her state improves slightly, and her pulse becomes a little stronger.

She is still far from truly saved, however.

The whole court is anxious – and so are the guests of Kaer Morhen – as they are trapped in the uncertainty. The Queen’s brother seems to be affected the most: he often weeps, hardly eats, only drinks alcohol, and has not slept through the night, instead just lay next to his sister with her hand in his. He refuses to leave the chamber, sitting at her bedside and singing and playing to her, though it is not likely that she hears a thing. Eskel often accompanies him, but he is not there all of the time because his obligations call him away, especially that his lord has ceased to fulfil most of his own duties.

Warlord of the North appears equally stricken as King Julian. He, too, does not leave the Queen’s bedroom, keeping watch from his seat by the door. The White Wolf and King Julian do not talk a lot; sometimes the monarch only asks the witcher to tell him how his sister’s heartbeat sounds.

On the second day of Queen Renri’s affliction, an infection develops in the wound. She starts suffering from a high fever to the point when her shivers force her into consciousness, though she is too delirious to make sense of her surroundings. The healers try to bring down the fever with potions but the results are mediocre. Only the poppy tea she is given works as it should, lulling her to sleep.

On the third day, the fever does not lessen, and the infection only worsens. The people in the castle become grim, spreading dark predictions about what awaits. Courtiers come by the Queen’s chambers at all times of the day, inquiring about her well-being. The royal guards, who keep watch outside the door, inform everyone to the best of their ability, though not much is known.

Since the hunt, King Julian has barely slept, while the Warlord does not seem to have had any rest at all. Yet, they both do not stray from the Queen’s chamber. The White Wolf often approaches the bed and touches his hand to Queen Renfri’s skin to check her body temperature.

On the morning of the fourth day, when the witcher does that for the umpteenth time, King Julian remarks, “You care about her.”

The statement is met with no refusal. “As much as I’d care for anyone willing to sacrifice their life for me,” the Warlord answers.

“Is it only that, Geralt?” the King presses.

The question is not unfounded. During the time the White Wolf and his entourage have been staying in the castle, Queen Renfri has been the only one of the Creyden court with whom the Warlord speaks at length. The two have talked during meals, sparred together and in general treated each other at least like good friends would.

“I know you two were... intimate. Which is hilarious, by the way,” Julian adds, then bursts into giggles.

“Jaskier,” Geralt growls in warning, “Don’t fucking mention it now.”

Jaskier’s chuckles turn into a hysterical laugh, with a manic edge.

“How can you laugh?” the witcher demands, disgusted.

“What else can I do?!” Jaskier cries. “I have no tears in me left! In the very same woods that she was supposed to die the first time... The very same woods!” His voice is loud and high-pitched. “Nearly bled out, in the place where her heart was supposed to be carved out of her chest! Oh, gods!”

He ends his speech abruptly. Jaskier’s body goes rigid as he sits in the chair. He gasps for air but seems unable to truly take a breath. Geralt, seeing his distress, rushes to his side.

“Easy,” the witcher murmurs.

He lays a hand on Jaskier’s nape to ground him and begins instructing Jaskier to inhale and exhale. The deep rumble of Geralt’s voice seems to comfort him and gradually, Jaskier’s breathing steadies. When Jaskier calms, however, Geralt does not step away. In fact, he inches closer, and his palm slowly moves from the back of Jaskier’s neck to the front. Jaskier shivers at the caress, his eyes fluttering shut. Geralt watches the reaction with hunger in his gaze and starts stroking the skin of Jaskier’s throat with his fingers. The touch causes Jaskier to shudder and release a small moan.

“How I missed your touch, my Lord,” he whispers, leaning into Geralt’s hand.

The words are laden with so much yearning that it seems to startle them both. King Julian’s eyes snap open, wide in shock. The White Wolf withdraws his hand abruptly, then walks back to his post by the door without sparing the monarch a glance.

“She is important,” he only says.  

Just as the King wants to reply, Lady Yennefer enters the room. She greets the monarch with a quick curtsy, then stands before the Warlord, who sits in his chair.

“Go to sleep,” the sorceress tells him. “We can’t afford to have you half-dead from exhaustion.”

The Warlord presses his face to her lower stomach. “Yen,” he mumbles into her skirts, tired but defiant.

“You stubborn oaf,” she chides, though her tone is gentle. She cradles the witcher’s face in her palms and lifts it so that they look each other in the eye. “Go. I shall stay here in your stead. If anything changes, you’ll be the first to know.”

The White Wolf relents, releasing a heavy sigh. Lady Yennefer chuckles and kisses him on the forehead, earning herself a pleased hum from the witcher. He pecks her on the cheek before leaving.

All the while, King Julian observes the moment of intimacy with a scowl.

The Warlord does not come back for the rest of the day. Lady Yennefer, having replaced him in the role of Her Majesty’s watchman until his return, tends to Queen Renfri unprompted. The sorceress changes the wet cloth on her forehead frequently, which the King allows out of sheer surprise. The monarch appears astonished every time the formidable mage turns into a diligent caretaker. His astonishment only grows when, on one occasion, Lady Yennefer’s fingers wander into the Queen’s locks. The caress is tentative, almost tender, albeit short-lived; the sorceress quickly withdraws her hand, remembering herself.

When King Julian wants to comment on this behaviour, her lightning-like gaze on him has him thinking better of it.

In the afternoon, Eskel comes to see how the Queen and the King fare. Seeing his lover’s tiredness, he tries to do the same as Lady Yennefer – coax one of the Queen’s constant watchmen away from her bedside – but he does not succeed as she did. His arguments convincing King Julian to go change, bathe, and take a walk to clear his head, are met with hard refusal. Eskel is not deterred, however. In the span of the next few hours, he attempts to persuade the King to leave for a bit for his own good. The witcher’s gentle but persistent coaxing agitates him more and more until in the evening, he finally loses his temper.

“I said,” he roars, “I won’t leave her!”

The bellow is like a force of uncontained, menacing horror – the red, raw power of a forest fire combined with the terror of a city under siege. It leaves ringing silence in its wake as Eskel and Lady Yennefer stare at King Julian in shock; the sound the King made seemed inhuman.

“I... Forgive me, Eskel, please, I –” the monarch stammers, “I –”

He does not manage to utter a word more, tongue-tied in the anxiety of waiting for the witcher’s response. Eskel frowns but does not appear insulted or alarmed.

“Sometimes, when you play and sing to me in the evenings,” he says, his tone calm, “You look at me as though you could see right into me, and I wonder what manner of creature you are.” He regards his lover with caution. “I knew there’s much more to than you allow the world to witness, yet I’ve underestimated just how much.”

“Please don’t think ill of me,” the King pleads, “Please don’t think me a monster. I couldn’t bear it.”

“Monster is not an insult in my view,” the witcher replies. “Don’t fret, I don’t think I’m able to hold a negative opinion of you. I simply think...” he trails off, then shakes his head. “No matter. We’ll discuss it after your sister gets better,” he decides. “This is no time for this conversation.”

The matter is left at that for, indeed, far greater worries soon arise. The fever tormenting the Queen turns rampant, making her writhe in her bed in a state of delirium. The infection in her wound has developed into sepsis.

On the fifth day since the hunting accident, Queen Renfri is in agony.

Lem, Triss Merigold and Lady Yennefer frantically try to find a solution that would save Her Majesty. Yet again, no magical ways yield any result, and neither does any medication. As the last resort, Triss suggests using a witcher potion. A droplet Swallow, she argues, could restore the Queen back to health, though her body may as well not be able to handle the elixir. It would be highly risky but there are no other options at this point. Thus, they ask King Julian for permission to treat Queen Renfri with Swallow.

“Just end her suffering,” is the King’s only answer.

Grief has driven him to numbness. It is with the sorrowful resignation – with death in his own eyes – that he watches the healers give his sister the witcher potion. There is no light in his gaze as he sees her body still completely. She seems to have died and only one tear rolls down his cheek.

Then, the tide is turned. Her breathing resumes, shallow at first, but quickly grows stronger. Her heart begins beating faster, too, and with much more force. Slowly, her complexion starts regaining a healthy colour as well.

It is as though the spark of life has returned to both Black Sun twins. Jaskier becomes alive again just as Renfri; although he near collapses from exhaustion when he kneels at her bedside, his countenance is bright once more, alight with joy, relief and hope.

When Queen Renfri opens her eyes on the sixth day, tired but lucid, King Julian sheds happy tears.

“Hiacynt,” he sobs, “Hiacynt, I almost lost you!”

“Jaskier,” she whispers, her voice rough from misuse. She smiles weakly and says, “Maybe rebirth requires this.”

“Fuck no,” Jaskier cries, embracing her, “This is not what I meant!” She huffs a laugh and puts her arms around him. “Don’t do that ever again!” he gasps out.

Renfri only nods, holding onto her brother. As he weeps into the crook of her neck, she takes note of other people present in the room: Lem, Triss Merigold, Lady Yennefer, Eskel and the White Wolf. As her gaze lands on the white-haired witcher, she appears relieved.

“Geralt,” she greets him. “You’re not wounded?”

“Thanks to you,” he replies, his lips quirked up.

“Why did you do that?!” Jaskier asks then, freeing himself from her embrace, “What on earth possessed you?!”

The Queen looks at the Warlord as she answers, “A good man once told me that even those who are thought to be monsters deserve a chance. Then, the same man believed that I had some good in me when I was at my worst.” She smiles at the White Wolf. “I could not allow the one so kind, who’d had faith in me when even I had none, to come to harm.”

The witcher bows his head in a gesture of gratitude. “You saved my life and almost died yourself,” he says, “I’m in your debt.”

Queen Renfri looks to her brother then. She takes his hand, smiling warmly and knowingly. King Julian seems puzzled at this, and his bemusement only grows when his sister shifts her attention back to the White Wolf with her grin turning triumphant.

“I know how I want the debt repaid,” she tells the witcher.

“Name your wish, then,” the Warlord answers.

“I clam the Law of Surprise.”  

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#myfic #geraskier #jaskier/eskel #the accidental warlord and his pack #jaskier & renfri are disaster twins