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flawlesspeasant · 5 years

Note

Love your fics soooo much!! Fic prompt- I would love to see Alex visiting jo in psych after a few weeks or something.

hey! i don’t really take prompts anymore, but luckily this one just fit what i was in the mood to write about. this is coupled with another prompt in my inbox saying “Jo tells Alex about her abortion”, so there’s some of that here too :)

_____________________

She was learning to celebrate the small victories.

In there, trapped in a bubble and closed off from the rest of the world, she had enough time to reflect and enough time alone to sit and truly think about everything that made her who she was. Every experience — every kiss, every hug, every kick, every shove — she’d decided they built her character. Molded her, shaped her, carved her, gave her all the necessary tools to be who she needed to be. And in that sense, she was fine with the way her life was a never ending pile of trauma.

It was a gradual process, one she thought of in steps.

Like for the first two weeks, she didn’t participate in group. Every time the therapist went around and asked everyone to share, she knew better than to ask Jo, and eventually learned to skip her altogether.

And she never touched her food. They’d bring up big elaborate platters with roast chicken and vegetables and big gooey slices of warm apple pie. But time and time again, she’d push pieces around with her fork until it was uncomfortably cold to eat, then she’d replace the dish cover and let housekeeping come and throw it into the trash.

For two weeks, her hair went uncombed and her teeth went unbrushed. Every so often, she’d change her clothes into some new set of pajamas, only to crawl back into bed and do the same thing she’d been doing before she’d decided to get up and change.

For two weeks, she was sure she’d made a mistake in coming there. Maybe she wasn’t ready to fight after all, maybe all she really wanted to do was continue to spend hours alone in her bed. Sure, that wasn’t healthy. But it was working, wasn’t it? She’d pull herself together eventually, she always did. Maybe checking into this place was a big mistake after all.

But during the mandatory therapy sessions, she was learning to celebrate the small victories.

Like eating two bites of food instead of just one.

Or pulling her hair up into a ponytail instead of letting it dangle, tangled and free.

And taking a shower instead of just using a wet washcloth to wash the parts of her that smelled.

Those were the small victories.

But as she sat across from the therapist that came to know her very well over the past twelve weeks, she twisted and twirled her wedding band around and around. The sweat on her palms were like a lubricant that made the ring feel ten times larger than it was. When her hands were dry and her legs were not shaking, it fit perfectly. Alex made sure of that. He sized her finger a dozen times in her sleep to make sure it fit, then had it sized again a mere week after Jo finally accepted his proposal. The ring had a permanent home on her finger and she had never moved it, not once. But all of a sudden, it was slipping.

This was a big victory.

“So um, Jo,” the therapist nudged her glasses up with her finger and tilted her head, a gentle push in a certain direction. “Isn’t there something you want to say to him?”

For the first time since they stepped foot into the chilly room, Jo remembered that the chair next to her was occupied. She breathed in, then out. Flexed her sock-covered feet across the plush brown carpet and let her eyes wander around the cream colored walls. She focused on a “Be The Change You Wish To See In The World” poster and swallowed the knot in the back of her throat.

“We talked about this,” the therapist continued. “You can do this.”

Jo pulled the skin around her thumbnail back a little too far, then dabbed the blood on her nylon sweatpants. She felt his eyes, chocolate brown with flecks of green, low and worried but calm with crinkles at the corners as the only tell-tale of his age boring into her. She knew he was looking at her, was waiting for her to say something — anything really, but preferably the reason he’d been called to attend a session with her in the first place.

Jo felt it. Hot, like bile rising up in the back of her throat, burning with the same intensity that her conscience had the very day she was about to tell him about.

But Alex felt it too.

He was halfway expecting to be told that she wanted a divorce. He’d decided that’s probably what this was all about, because in the entire twelve weeks she’d been in there, he was never once asked to attend a therapy session of hers.

He’d spent the entire car ride preparing himself for that. He’d let her have the loft, for sure. It was her idea to buy it in the first place and when she came home after all of this, she would need a place to stay. He wanted her to have something cozy and familiar. And he’d still help her pay the taxes on it, too. He’d go stay at Meredith’s. Amelia wouldn’t care. She’d appreciate it, even. Because ever since Maggie moved in with Jackson, she had been lonely… right? Yeah. That’s right. He’d go stay with Amelia. Jo can have the loft. She deserved that.

He’d been preparing himself, true. But even still, the thought made his stomach tie into knots.

He was no stranger to losing people. In fact, it was like a rite of passage to him at this point. Things with women just don’t work out for him, and he’d bounce back… eventually.

But something about the prospect of losing Jo just felt… unfathomable. Because even after everyone that he’s lost…

She was the only person he was sure he couldn’t live without.

“I uh,” Jo started, then stopped so she could clear her groggy voice.

Alex shifted in the chair and turned his entire body to face her. The tears brimming the rims of her eyes sent a wave of electricity through his body, and he grabbed a hold of her hand. Though they’d been together a long time, he still didn’t know what it was about Jo that drove him so crazy. Seeing her cry always sent him straight into attack mode, straight into a frenzy trying to figure out what he could do to lessen even an ounce of her pain.

She was the strongest woman he’d ever been with, by far. She didn’t need protecting. She didn’t need him to defend her.

Yet still, every time a tear even threatened to fall from Jo’s eyes, something inside his brain just snapped and he was overcome with the overwhelming urge to take it away. To make it stop. To give her the happiness she so fully deserved.

“Jo? You okay?” the therapist asked, referring to the tears that streamed down her cheeks. “Alex, forgive her, this is very hard for her to talk about.”

“You don’t gotta tell me how to handle my wife,” he mumbled, slightly perturbed that he didn’t know what was wrong with Jo enough to fix it. “I’m listening,” he whispered and planted a kiss on Jo’s hand.

“There’s just a lot I haven’t told you,” Jo admitted, still crying. She dragged her face across her shoulder to dry her tears and sniffed. “And I’m just working through a lot of it.”

“Whatever you need to tell me, I’m here.”

“I just know how much you don’t like hearing about everything. Like everything I went through before you and stuff.”

“S’this about Paul?”

Jo flinched at the mention of his name and worked to steady her trembling jaw. “No. I mean yes, but… no. No, it’s about me.”

“Whatever you have to tell me… whatever it is. I can handle it. Just tell me.”

“I just…,” Jo bit her lip and dabbed her eyes with the sleeves of her black and orange Princeton Tigers t-shirt. “I need you to promise me that you won’t think of me any different. And I need you to promise me that you won’t talk about it when we leave here.”

“Jo, what the hell is this about?” Alex wrinkled his eyebrows and clenched his fists, anger coursing through his veins in place of his hot red blood. He shifted back to the therapist. “What did you do to her? You think this is helpful? Making her tell me crap she doesn’t want to tell me? I thought the whole point of this was to make her better, was to make sure she —“

“It’s a crucial part of her recovery to be able to speak about this and rest assured Dr. Karev, I’m not making her do anything. She knows the rules. I won’t make her bring up anything with you that she’s not comfortable with, but especially this. She made up her own mind. She wants you to know. She just doesn’t know how to say it. It’s a very… shameful thing that she’s about to admit, and she —“

“I’m not ashamed,” Jo said, matter-of-fact. “I’m a lot of things, but ashamed isn’t one of them.”

“Right, of course,” the therapist backpedaled. “Maybe ashamed was the wrong word, I just —“

“I had an abortion,” Jo mumbled and looked away from Alex as she slid her hand out of his grip. She felt his gaze on her change, felt the judgement coming from him and spilling out onto her.

Alex felt like someone had opened up the back of his shirt and dumped ice cold water down the back of it. The admission made his body freeze and his blood run cold. His jaw clenched… and the air left his body.

“You — you what?”

He knew Jo got squirrely every time he mentioned kids, knew that maybe she didn’t really want them and knew that while he was getting up there in age, she was still young and still very free-spirited. He knew they weren’t really on the same page with kids, maybe not even in the same chapter. But he did, however, figure they were at least in the same book…

“Jo, what? When? How did you —“ he felt the tears starting to form, and the disappointment starting to bubble. “I mean yeah — it’s your choice and all — but — I thought — I thought you’d at least talk to me. What do you mean —“

“Alex, no!” Jo shook her head and cupped his face in her hands. “No, God, no. No!”

“Then why…?”

“I meant with — Baby, I would never — I would NEVER —“

“Might I suggest we start over? With more clarity in your words, Jo?” The therapist recommended. “Remember? Clarity? Say exactly what you mean.”

“It was years ago, Alex. YEARS ago. Before I even met you. I… I had a funny feeling because you know, he — Paul — never, you know. And I just thought maybe I was. And then I found out I was but then he hit me and I just… I knew he couldn’t know. That’s what I meant, I meant —“

“Jo,” Alex stopped her. “Why would you think I’d care? I mean yeah I care because I mean, yeah. If it’s eating you up inside, yeah I care. But why would you think I’d actually care? Why would you think you need to tell me not to be angry or judge you…? For anything…? But especially for something you did to survive?”

Jo looked down at the ground, suddenly feeling a bit foolish for having thought that Alex would be anything but supportive. “I dunno. I guess I just thought…”

“I don’t care. I don’t care about anything else but you. You know that, right?”

Jo nodded, then looked up at the therapist. The two of them exchanged a look, then Jo bit her lip, but nodded again. She felt braver after that. Like she could take on the world. She was riding a wave… and decided to keep it going….

“Alex?”

“Yeah?” his voice was gravelly as he recovered from the whirlwind of emotions she had just sent him through. He steadied himself, grabbed Jo’s hand again and was right back to being her rock.

“I wanted you to know that about me.”

“I’m glad you did, but it doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t change that I love you.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“Yeah, good,” Jo took a deep breath. Telling Alex about her abortion was certainly a big victory….

“Because I thought you should know about any past babies before I tell you about the one we’re going to have in five months.”

But telling him that was an even bigger one.

#fanfiction #jolex #jo karev #alex karev

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branlovestowrite · 5 years

Text

The Decoy Groom (2/5): A CS Fanfic

This is my CS AU loosely (very loosely) based on the movie The Decoy Bride (starring Kelly MacDonald and David Tennant; it’s super cute and highly recommended). Brennan Jones is in this story, and, as it’s a no-magic AU, Tim Omundson will be playing that role.

Title: The Decoy Groom

Rating: M for language and some suggestive scenes in future installments

Summary: After a failed turn as a musician in Los Angeles, Killian Jones has returned to his home: Storybrooke Island, a remote, tiny island off the coast of Maine. Emma Swan is a famous actress that just wants one day out of the spotlight so she can get married. Storybrooke Island, just two miles long and accessible only by ferry, seems like the answer to her prayers. But will she really be able to keep her nuptials a private affair? And can Killian find the solace he craves when there’s a world-famous actress in town?

Need to catch up? Ch1 Also on AO3

The next morning Killian walked to Granny’s for breakfast, as was his usual routine. In his short time back on the island, he’d learned that if he didn’t keep himself busy, he would go stir crazy just sitting around the house. He supposed he’d need to see if Will’s boat was taking on new guys so he’d at least have some employment.

After entering the diner and taking his usual seat, he was waited on by Granny herself, who poured him a coffee while scrutinizing him with a raised brow.

“Is there something amiss with my appearance?” he finally asked after he could no longer take her glare.

“Something happened with those visitors upstairs,” she replied, her voice low.

“How do you mean?”

“Well… you know I don’t like to gossip…”

“Naturally,” Killian responded with a smirk. One of Granny’s favorite pastimes was gossiping about the tourists. She hated when autumn came because the tourist population dwindled and she had less fodder for discussion.

“There was some big shouting match last night, and later someone caught a chopper ride back to the mainland.”

“So they’re gone then?”

She shook her head. “No one’s checked out yet. Whoever left wasn’t the girl who rented the rooms. But,” she said with a sigh, “I guess we’ll have to wait to see who’s still here. Sun’s hardly out. They’re probably not awake.”

This new information piqued Killian’s interest. He couldn’t help but look up more information on Emma Swan the night before. The more he learned about her fiancé, the less he liked her choice. Walsh Ozman was a slimy Hollywood producer who appeared to treat everyone with disdain. Killian could not understand why Emma Swan, who, according to her former castmates, was a genuinely nice person, would choose to marry a jerk like Ozman. The news that there’d been a fight last night made him think that maybe she’d finally realized he was no good for her.

He shook his head at his fanciful notions. It wasn’t like she would be interested in himself. He’d admired Emma Swan’s work in the past, and couldn’t help but want to know her after the things he’d read about her the night before. But, in all likelihood, she would be leaving the island later today, never interacting with him again.

Granny headed back to kitchen, preparing him a breakfast that he’d never actually ordered, and he took advantage of the quiet to scroll through the news on his phone. He was distracted from his reading a few minutes later by the jingle of the bell over the door. A squirrely looking man walked in, with tanned skin, close-cropped curly hair, and a beard to match. The color was more gray than the black it had likely been in his youth.

He met Killian’s eye and smiled. “Hello, I’m looking for the proprietor of this establishment.”

“You found her,” Granny said from the doorway of the kitchen. “What can I do for you?”

“I was hoping you might have a room available for rent.”

“Sorry, we are all booked up, but try back again later today. I have a feeling something might open up.”

“Thank you,” the man replied. “Let me give you my card. If you find yourself with a vacancy, I would appreciate a call.”

Granny took the card and pocketed it without looking at it. “If you want to sit down I can bring you some coffee and make you something to eat. None of the other restaurants on the island are open at this hour.”

“Thank you madam,” the man said, taking a seat at the booth directly adjacent to Killian’s. He sat with his back to the door, effectively facing the other man with only the barrier of a bench seat between them.

Granny returned to the kitchen, and, as Killian suspected he would, the other man began speaking to him.

“Do you happen to know anything about the patrons currently staying here?”

“Even if I did,” Killian responded, “I doubt Mrs. Lucas would appreciate me discussing them with someone else.”

The other man stood and joined Killian in his booth. “Forgive my impertinence. My name is Sidney Glass, and I’m a freelance journalist. I received a tip that there may be someone of interest currently staying on the island. I could pay handsomely for any information that might help me find who I’m looking for.”

Killian stared at the other man. “I’m afraid I can’t help you. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like some solace while I drink my coffee.”

Effectively dismissed, Sidney Glass stood. “Please make my apologies to Mrs. Lucas. I’ve just remembered a previous engagement.” He left the diner, and Killian had to fight back to urge to run upstairs and warn the lovely lady Swan that the press had somehow found her here.

Laying in her bed, Emma sank deeper into the pillow and groaned. She’d cried so much the night before. She was mad at Walsh, of course, for cheating on her. And at herself for being so blind. And at Zelena for sleeping with a man she knew was engaged to another woman. And herself for being so blind. She had spent the whole night crying and drinking the champagne that was supposed to be for her post-wedding toast.

Elsa had been by her side for most of the evening. Emma was so grateful to have her friend here. Elsa was technically her manager, but over the years they’d worked together, their relationship had evolved to be so much more. Elsa was like a sister to Emma. As terrible as she felt this morning, she would be much worse off if she hadn’t had her friend with her.

A few minutes earlier, Elsa had offered to go downstairs and fetch some coffee before they started making plans for their next steps. Emma sat up slowly, longing for the caffeine that would help her feel more normal.

A knock came at the door and, before Emma could get out of bed, Elsa stepped inside the room. “That was fast,” Emma remarked. She then caught sight of her friend’s empty hands and sighed in realization. “Because you didn’t actually get it. Where’s the coffee?”

“I’m sorry,” Elsa said as she closed the door. “I went downstairs to get it, but Sidney Glass was down there!”

Emma paled. “Shit! What the hell is he doing here?! Did he see you? Could he be here for another reason?”

“No, he didn’t see me. I don’t think he’s here for another reason. The cute guy from yesterday was down there, and Sidney asked him for information on the people who were staying here.”

“Cute guy from yesterday?”

“Yes, Emma,” Elsa replied with an annoyed look. “You know. The one with the dark hair and blue eyes. We met him outside before we checked in.”

“Oh yeah. Did he give anything away to Glass?”

“Thankfully no. But you know Sidney! He won’t give up so easily. Short of confining ourselves to this room, I don’t know how we’re going to escape him.”

“That might not even work," Emma said with a sigh. "If he gets wind that there was a helicopter departure yesterday, he might talk to the pilot and find out Walsh was the passenger.” She pressed her hand to her forehead. “Oh hell. What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Elsa replied, looking defeated.

“I’ll get massacred by the press if they get wind of the breakup this way.”

Her friend stared at her disbelievingly. “Wait, you want them to think you and Walsh are still together?”

“On principle, no. Walsh is a slimy son of a bitch and I don’t want my name associated with him any longer than it has to be. But in practice, I don’t have much of a choice until I can get back home. If the story leaks that we broke up and then I come out two weeks later saying he’s a misogynistic asshole, I just look like a jealous ex.”

“I hate to be Debbie Downer, but what’s to stop Walsh from doing that now? He’s most likely back in LA today.”

“He’ll want to time to spin it.” Emma paced the small length of the room. “Fuck…”

“What if…” Elsa began, but stopped herself short, snapping her mouth closed.

Emma gave her a curious look. “No, go on. Any idea will help brainstorm.”

Elsa stepped closer to her friend and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Let me get through this before you interrupt.” She took a deep breath and walked the same path Emma had a moment before. “What if we beat Sidney at his own game? Let him think there was a wedding today. He publishes it, but then when the breakup comes out next week, he ends up getting discredited.”

Emma looked at her friend with a furrowed brow. “How would we do that?”

“We stage the wedding with a decoy groom. Sidney thinks we don’t know he’s here, so he’s going to try and get pictures surreptitiously. He knows how much you want to keep the press out, so he’s going to try and be sneaky. We make sure he only gets photos from the back. We keep your veil on the entire ceremony so it’s not entirely clear that you’re in the pictures. Worst case, he goes to press with inconclusive photos.”

“Who would we get to be the decoy groom? There’s only 60 people on this island, and the average age is 50. I doubt we’ll find anyone who looks like Walsh, even from behind.”

“We’ve already found him! The cute guy. He’s about the same height as Walsh. He’s got dark hair. I brought my shears with me. I can cut his hair to look like Walsh’s. He doesn’t have to be an exact match. Just enough to make Sidney think it’s legit. Once Sidney thinks he has his story, he’ll leave the island.”

“I don’t know…” Emma replied. “Maybe we’d be better to just stay in the room today.”

“And what about tomorrow, and the next day, and the one after that? Sidney Glass hid out in the attic of Regina Mills’ pool house for six weeks to get pictures of her when she was having an affair with Graham Humbert! He doesn’t give up easy.”

“You make a good point.” Emma sat down on the edge of the bed in a huff. “Is cute guy still downstairs?”

Elsa smiled in triumph. “I’ll go see.”

“Bring back coffee,” Emma said before her friend left the room entirely.

Killian was just finishing his eggs with he noticed an attractive blonde woman approaching from his left. Not the blonde he’d secretly been hoping to see, but her companion.

He looked up and met her steely blue eyes. “May I help you?”

“Do you mind if I sit?” she asked, her tone business-like.

“By all means.” He gestured to the bench seat on the opposite side of his booth.

She took a seat and extended her hand across the table. “Elsa Frost.”

“Killian Jones,” he replied, taking her hand in his.

“I’ll get down to business, Mr. Jones. I represent a client that I’d rather not name in public, although I suspect you may be aware of who she is.”

“I had an inkling…” He was intrigued by what this woman could want.

“My client has a request of a somewhat… unusual nature. I was hoping you could join us for a cup of coffee upstairs to discuss in a more private setting.”

Killian sat back and stared for a short moment, pretending the think on the idea. He held out just long enough to temper his excitement about a chance to meet Emma Swan in person. Leaning forward once more, he smiled and said “How can I say no to that?” Standing, he walked to the bar, stepped around the counter, took out three paper cups, and filled them from the carafe. “Do either you or your client take cream and sugar?”

Five minutes later, Killian stood alone in one of the rooms in the Inn, waiting on Elsa to retrieve her client. Part of him could not believe he would be face-to-face with Emma Swan in a matter of minutes. It all seemed so surreal. To calm himself, he stared out the window of the room and watched the seals play on a rocky outcropping. It had been a long time since he’d just watched the seals, and he quickly became mesmerized. He did not realize the two women had entered the room until Elsa cleared her throat.

He turned and faced Emma Swan, his heart immediately breaking for her. Her red-rimmed eyes indicated she’d been crying recently. Her beautiful blonde hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun and she wore a baggy cream-colored sweater with leggings and thick socks. However, even with her casual attire and tired appearance, he found her more beautiful than the publicity photos he’d been looking through the night before.

They stood in awkward silence for a moment longer before Emma extended her hand. “Mr. Jones, thank you for speaking with us. I’m Emma Swan.”

He took her hand and shook it dazedly. “Of course, Miss Swan. It’s a pleasure…” he trailed off.

“So…” Emma began, seemingly just as much at a loss for words as he was. “The reason…”

Before the situation could become more uncomfortable, Elsa jumped in. “Emma came to the island to get married, but her fiancé had to leave due to an emergency. However, we don’t want the press to know he is gone. Surely you’ve heard of the struggles Emma has had with the press?”

“I have,” he replied.

“And I think you are aware that there is a journalist currently on the island, looking for information about this very situation?”

“I am.”

“We have a proposition for you. We would like Mr. Glass to leave this island thinking he has photographs of a wedding between Ms. Swan and Walsh Ozman. As Walsh is not here, we are in need of a stand-in.”

“A stand-in?”

“Yes.”

“But I don’t look like Walsh Ozman.”

“Not from the front, no. But with a little trim of your hair, I can make you look like him from behind. And that’s all we need.”

“I don’t have a suit.”

“You look to be the same size as Walsh, and I have the wedding clothes with me in a separate bag. I can do some minor alterations.”

“I’m still not sure about this…” Killian said, feeling his right hand fly up to scratch behind his ear, his old nervous tick.

“This was a stupid idea,” Emma suddenly said. “Let’s just give it up, Elsa. Let Sidney run a story about how Emma Swan can’t keep a man. It’s not like they’ve never said that before.”

Killian felt anger flare in his chest at her defeated tone. “Now hold on, lass, I didn’t say ‘no.’” Her head snapped up and she met his gaze for the first time that morning. “I’m willing to help.”

“What do you want in exchange?” Emma said, her eyes narrowed.

“It would be bad form to require something for helping out a lady in distress.”

“Bad form? Lady in distress? Where are you from? The nineteenth century?”

“No, I simply possess a broad vocabulary and enjoy using it,” he replied, a bit put out by her comment.

“Nevertheless,” Elsa interjected, “you will be compensated for your time. And for signing a standard Non-Disclosure Agreement stating that you will not share the particulars of this situation with anyone without first obtaining mine or Miss Swan’s express permission.”

“I’ll sign an NDA if it makes you feel better, but I have no intention of telling anyone.”

“We’ll take that in writing. Please stay here. I’m going to return to my room and pull up an agreement on my laptop. Are you comfortable with providing an electronic signature? Otherwise I will need to see if Mrs. Lucas has a printer I can use.”

“Electronic is fine.”

“Great. Why don’t you and Emma stay here and get acquainted while I take care of that?”

Elsa exited the room and Emma looked at him nervously. Killian groaned quietly to himself. What the hell was he getting into?

Emma looked up at the attractive, blue-eyed stranger before her. Standing even closer to him now, she noticed his broad chest and muscular arms. As her eye traveled down his arm to observe his strong, elegant hands, she felt a jolt of lust. Her traitorous mind couldn’t help but think about how it would feel to have those hands slide down her back or dig into her thigh as he…

Killian cleared his throat and looked at her with one eyebrow raised and she realized she was biting her lip whilst staring at his hands. She blushed and shook her head to clear her dazed mind. What was this strong attraction she felt to him? She’d noticed it first yesterday, but in the wake of Walsh’s betrayal, it was as if her carnal mind wanted to bed someone else in retaliation.

“So,” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest and hugging herself tightly, “do you live on this island?”

“Aye, though I only just returned after living in L.A. for five years.”

“Really? What were you doing there?”

“Trying and failing to make it big as a musician.”

“What do you play?”

“Guitar.”

“Are you any good?”

“I think so.”

“Then why was it a failed endeavor?”

“A combination of things. Some of my bandmates were less than cooperative. And we had some creative differences. And it is a rather difficult business to make it big in. I think we just didn’t get our big break, and I tired of the struggle.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, it would still have been a struggle if you had ‘made it big.’ Take it from me, fame is not all it’s cracked up to be.”

“Do you mind me asking why you were so against the press at your wedding? Seems like you made the problem worse for yourself by fighting against them.”

“You’re probably right,” Emma sighed. She moved over to the bed and sat on the edge of it. “When I was a kid, I was a big nobody. A foster kid who jumped from home to home and never had a family of her own. Then, when I was fifteen, I got a foster mother who wanted to be a stage mom, and she took me to every audition she possibly could. I found out that I was good at acting. For the first time in my life, I had something that made me unique, you know?”

“Yeah,” he replied in a near whisper. She looked up at him to see an earnest stare. He seemed truly mournful for the child she’d been.

She sucked in a deep breath before continuing. “So, I got a part in a TV show, and that was my big break. But Victoria, that was my foster mom, she pocketed all the money I was making. And she was greedy, selling me out for appearances or ‘exclusive’ interviews. The press fed off of it. And I rebelled, which only made them chase me more. By the time I was seventeen, I couldn’t go anywhere without being hounded by them. And, to add to my trouble, I was flat broke because Victoria wouldn’t give me any of the money I made. It was ridiculous. I was making more money than I’d ever dreamed I could, but I still had to steal tampons from the drug store.”

“And then you got caught,” Killian filled in.

“Yeah… I got arrested for shoplifting. But, the silver lining to that is that I met my lawyer, David Nolan, and he helped me file for emancipation and sue Victoria for the money she was keeping from me.”

“Did you get it back?”

“Not a penny. She’d spent most of it as fast as I made it. At least, since I was emancipated, I was able to keep what I made going forward. But by then I had a reputation with the press, and they expected me to be a bad girl. Every move I made was scrutinized. And I’ve never been able to shake that, even now, ten years later. I just wanted to have one day where they weren’t judging my every move. Where I could just be myself.”

“That makes perfect sense.” Emma looked up at him again, and found nothing more than understanding in his eyes.

“Thank you,” she whispered, “for… getting it.”

“Well, my story is different, but we have some of the same themes.”

“Yeah? What’s your story?”

“Well,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck, “I was born in England, and for a few years it was nice. Mum and Dad and my older brother Liam. Then Mum got sick, and she passed before I was five.”

“I’m sorry.”

He waved his dismissively. “Thank you, but it was a long time ago. What hurt more was that not long after that, Dad abandoned Liam and I. He was part of a auto theft ring, and when one of his partners was caught, he ran to avoid getting arrested himself. Just up and left us one night.”

“What did you do?”

“We went to live with a distant relative. Uncle John never had any kids of his own and I believe he rather resented us. He left us to fend for ourselves quite often. Then, just as I was entering secondary school, John was contacted by our father. He’d cleared his name and was living in the States and wanted us to join him. John shipped us off on the first flight to Boston and we haven’t seen him since. When we arrived, we learned Dad had remarried and was living here on the island with his wife and their son, William.”

“Isn’t that…”

“The anglicized form of Liam? Aye. Believe me, my brother and I were right pissed off at Brennan Jones for essentially trying to replace us. But we eventually came around. Not for him, but for Will and his mother, Angie.”

“Are they still here?”

“Liam moved back home a few years back, but Dad and Will are still here.”

“Angie…?”

“Died last year.”

“Damn. Your dad’s a widow twice over? That’s fucked up.”

“The old man’s cursed.”

“So why did you come back here? Why not join your older brother?”

“Dad hasn’t been the same since Angie died. And Will works on a fishing boat and has a young wife and a child on the way, so he can’t be around as much.”

“So you came back to care for the dad that abandoned you when you were little?”

“He’s a right bastard, but he’s still my Dad.”

“You’re a good man, Killian Jones.”

“I hope so,” he replied, his eyes glassy.

Thirty minutes later Killian stood in a room with Elsa, wearing the suit Walsh Ozman was meant to wear at his wedding. He was still struggling with the idea that he would be spending the day pretending to marry Emma Swan.

“This fit isn’t too bad,” Killian said, tugging the sleeves of the jacket down. Although he and Walsh were roughly the same height, his limbs seemed to be longer than those of the other man’s.

“I think I need to take the hems out an inch on the jacket and pants, then you should be good,” Elsa said. “I wonder if Mrs. Lucas has a sewing machine I can use. It’d be much easier if I didn’t have to do this by hand.”

“I believe she does, but truly, you needn’t go to the effort. Who’s going to notice if the suit is slightly ill-fitting?”

“It has to fit you like a glove,” Elsa replied. “Sidney isn’t going to buy the story if there’s any indication that you aren’t Walsh, and Walsh would never wear an ill-fitting suit, no matter how slight the problem.” She stepped back and took him in. “Thank god I kept the suit with me instead of letting him pack it,” she muttered to herself. Looking up to his face again she smiled. “Go ahead and change out of it while I run down to see if I can borrow the sewing machine.”

She was out the door before Killian could say a word. He removed the suit and once more donned his jeans and henley. As he laid the garments back on the bed, marveling at the expense of them, he heard a knock at the door.

He surmised the visitor must be Emma, since Elsa would have charged into the room after a perfunctory knock. However, when he opened the door, he was met with the face of a smaller man with red curly hair, wearing a very ill-fitting suit and thick glasses. “Can I help you?” Killian asked.

“Hello, yes, sir. My name is Archie Hopper, and I’ll be the officiant for the ceremony today. I need you to fill out some paperwork.” He handed Killian a small stack of paperwork.

Killian held his hands up and refused to take the documents. “I’m not sure that’s necessary…” he trailed off.

“Don’t worry. Mrs. Frost explained everything to me. This is just a formality.” He pushed the documents in the other man’s direction once more

“Are you sure?” Killian replied, reluctantly taking the pages and thumbing through them.

“Indeed,” Hopper responded. “We want this to be convincing, do we not?” The man leaned forward and winked, the gesture oddly magnified by his eyewear.

“Erm… yes.” Killian moved to the desk in the room and took up a pen, beginning to fill out the forms.

“I’ll need to see your ID as well,” Hopper said.

“Sure.” Absently, Killian fished his wallet out of his back pocket and extracted his license. It was still his California ID. He hadn’t yet obtained a new Maine driver’s license. He handed the card to the other man.

Hopper took a picture of the front and back of Killian’s ID and placed the card on the desk while Killian continued to complete the documents. He was done a moment later, and Hopper gathered everything up and turned to leave. The door opened just as he approached it and Elsa entered.

“Mr. Hopper. Is everything in order?”

“Oh yes, Miss Frost. Quite so. I was just speaking with our groom for a moment before the ceremony.” He said groom in a slightly mocking tone, and Elsa gave him a tight smile in reply.

“Remember the agreement you signed, Mr. Hopper,” she said in a commanding voice.

“Of course, Miss Frost. I’ll just head down to the church now and meet you there later today.”

“Thank you. And, if you would be so kind, the photographer is also downstairs in the common room. If you could point him in the direction of the church, I will be very appreciative.”

“I’ll do you one better and walk with him,” Hopper said with a silly smile.

“Thank you Mr. Hopper. I’ll see you at the church.”

Hopper thankfully knew a dismissal when he saw one, and left the room. Elsa turned back to Killian, donning a pair of shears. “Alright Mr. Jones, are you ready for your haircut?”

Emma walked down the aisle of the picturesque church. She took her place next to a tall man with dark hair who, after Elsa’s intervention, looked so much like Walsh from behind that Emma had been momentarily fooled into thinking that the last 18 hours had been a bad dream. Which of course made her feel like crying all over again. The only thing holding her tears at bay was her fear of ruining the beautiful makeup Elsa had applied an hour earlier. This was supposed to be her perfect, private, wedding that she could share with the people who meant the most to her. Instead she was play acting with a stranger. She felt incredibly grateful that they’d decided to keep the veil over her face, thereby masking her expression of pain.

“Shall we proceed with the ceremony?” the kind man named Mr. Hopper asked, looking to Elsa. This was Emma’s first time meeting the man, and she found his sweet disposition calming.

“Yes,” Elsa replied curtly. She’d ensured Emma that, after a thorough search, there were no bugs in the church, but just to be sure, they’d decided that they would play out the ceremony as realistically as possible. As far as the walls of the building were concerned, Emma Swan and Walsh Ozman were being married that day. Still, Emma kept her eye on her friend as she paced the perimeter of the small room, keeping an eye out for Sidney.

The church was beautiful, with stone arches, an intricate wooden ceiling, and lovely stained-glass windows. The structure of the room worked to their advantage, as the ceremony took place up front, in the chancel, which was cut off from the rest of the room. The triptych of stained-glass windows behind the altar, while allowing plenty of light into the room, were impossible to see through. There was absolutely no way a person could get a picture of their faces without being in the room with them.

Speaking of which, the photographer they’d hired stepped gracefully around them, quietly snapping pictures. Emma had wanted to turn him away, but Elsa had felt it would be better to proceed as planned with him, so that there was one less person in on the secret. She had told the man that the couple was extremely private and did not want any close up shots, and that there should be no pictures taken of the kiss.

Emma disagreed with her friend on that point, but the entire plan made her so nervous that she was ready to agree to anything just to get through the day. She only needed to get through a few more minutes, and then hopefully Sidney would get his picture and Emma could return to her room to hide out in peace.

They’d just been declared man and wife when everything went to hell. A sound of breaking glass came from behind them, and a man awkwardly fell through a panel of one of the other windows along the side of the building. Everyone looked over their shoulders to see the face of Sidney Glass trying extract himself from an awkward, and likely painful, position.

Elsa immediately stepped into action, yelling out “what the hell?!” as loud as she could while crossing the room toward the man. Emma noticed that Killian was still looking at the man and nearly about to turn around and go help him. Her internal alarm bells screamed as images of Sidney discovering the whole story and using it to destroy what remained of her reputation flashed through her head.

Roughly she grabbed Killian’s arm, still wearing her veil, and pulled him toward a door off to the side of the chancel.

“What are you doing?” he protested. “That man’s bleeding! He needs help!”

“That’s Sidney Glass, and he deserves to bleed!” she hissed as she yanked open a door and shoved Killian inside before following him in. It took a few tries to get the door to close because the damned lace train, which had seemed so sensible when she purchased her dress, was now getting stuck in the door jamb. She finally extracted her skirts and pulled hard to close the door behind her. Her body immediately collided with Killian’s. She had a momentary lapse in judgment, where she couldn’t think about anything other than how firm his chest felt and how good he smelled. But then she came to her senses and whirled around.

“What the hell are you doing?” she whispered. “Back up and give me a little space!”

“Sorry to say, love, but there isn’t any space to give you.” He reached above his head and pulled a cord that was connected to a single light bulb. When the dim light flooded the area, she realized what he meant. She’d thought they were going into a hallway, or at least an office, but it turned out that they stood pressed tightly together in a cleaning closet.

“Oh fuck,” Emma cursed.

“Oh fuck indeed,” Killian echoed.

Thanks to all those who liked and reblogged last week! I tried to add everyone who reblogged to the tag list, but Tumblr’s giving me trouble.

@artistic-writer @bubblegum1425 @captainkillianswanjones @fairytaleprincessatlast @flslp87 @gingerchangeling @hollyethecurious @hookswan25 @initiala @jonirobinson64 @kday426 @kingofmyheart14 @kmomof4 @kymbersmith-90 @laschatzi @nerdyhuntress @nikkiemms @objectsatsleepstayatsleep @princesseslikepirates @resident-of-storybrooke @searchingwardrobes @sherlockianwhovian @shireness-says @snidgetsafan @snowbellewells @teamhook @thejacketandthehook @thejollyroger-writer @thislassishooked @welllpthisishappening @winterbythesea @winterbaby89 @wingedlioness @withheartfulloflove @wyntereyez

#cs ff #cs au #cs fanfic #captain swan #captain swan au #the decoy groom #branwrites

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starunicornmoon · 5 years

Text

Little Do You Know

'Love is never a straight line. Sometimes you've got to freehand.' Little Do You Know Head down to avoid making eye contact with too many people, I pushed the shopping cart down the aisle of the supermarket beside Amy, who had her cute nose in her shopping list and wasn't watching where she was going. I reached out and pulled her gently to the side so she wouldn't walk into a display of grapefruit at the last second. She looked up, seeming a little startled, gave me a small adorable embarrassed smile and went straight back to her shopping list. Shaking my head at her distraction, I chuckled lightly and carried on pushing the annoying cart with the dodgy wheel around the shop. I must've been giving out boredom vibes because Amy stopped me a second later. "You don't have to be here, Sonic. I can do my shopping alone," she rested her small hand on my arm and smiled at me with that too cute to ignore tug of her lips. She really meant it too, she didn't need me there and she wouldn't be offended if I zipped out of the store as fast as possible. She wouldn't take it personally, she wouldn't berate me later on because I left her stranded. After-all, it was me who asked if I could come along. I might have had ulterior motives for that this time though. "I know, but I just want to make sure you pick up the right chilli this time," I winked at her where I was casually leaning on the cart. Amy's cheeks flushed and she ducked her head to scout over her shopping list again. Her reaction surprised me and I stood back up to my full height and watched her. She knew I was, her face was getting redder the more I stared. Why was she acting all squirrely all of a sudden? Did I put my foot in it? Not that it would be the first time with her, but I like to think it's been a very long time since I did. I'm far past that slightly stuttery, AmyRosemakesmenervous stage of bolting and/or saying something to upset her accidentally. What's insulting about chilli? Narrowing my eyes I reached out and hooked a finger under her chin, making her turn to look me in the eye. I didn't say anything, I just gave her a look and waited. She bit her lip, her eyes shining with humour as we silently battled it out. I couldn't tell you who's the most stubborn out of the two of us, I think we're pretty equal on that battlefield. Amy did crack first though, probably because we were drawing attention to ourselves by having a stare down competition in the middle of an aisle at the store, our cart abandoned. She swallowed nervously, tucking a stray quill over her shoulder as she glanced down and looked back up at me. I felt like I was being played by her unintentional adorableness. "I've just been trying a new chilli out, that's all. I'll get your normal one from now on." she mumbled as she turned away and walked off quickly down the aisle. Being the fastest thing alive it didn't take me long to catch up to her, wonky shopping cart or not. She was distractedly throwing things in and ticking items off her list. I watched her for a moment, my mind rummaging back over the past couple of weeks, trying to remember the packaging of this new chilli she'd been tainting me with. When we got to the tinned chilli my eyes scanned the shelves trying to locate the right one. Amy placed a few of my normal favourite in the cart and started off at quite the quick pace. She was too late though, because my eyes zeroed in on the tin I was looking for and I almost dropped it on my foot out of terror. She has been tainting me! Amy Rose, one of my oldest and best friends has been secretly feeding me poison for weeks, on my precious chilli dogs no less! Is it some kind of practical joke? Was she hoping I wouldn't notice? How - how could she?! "Amy Rose!" I called, maybe a little too loudly as I appeared in front of her, stopping her from running away. She collided into me and jumped back just as fast. She looked nervous now. Nervous and like she was trying hard to not laugh at me. I know how I must've looked - a little crazed, scared and hurt. My poor chilli dogs . . . "You've been feeding me low fat chilli?" My voice was almost cracking just saying it aloud. And then a more horrifying thought occurred to me. "Ames, are you trying to say I'm getting fat?" I muttered, staring down at my stomach. Amy made a noise that made me look up in surprise. Was that a purr? Her eyes did a pretty quick and pretty thorough inspection of my body that more than inflated my ego, I can't deny it. Fat thought gone, it took a lot of willpower to not flex right there and then just to see what she would do. I settled for a familiar and proud smirk instead. When she met my eyes again her blush was back in full force from being caught out and I grinned even wider. "Oh shut up, you know you're hot," she huffed as she shouldered past me. True, I've lost my gangly teenage body and filled out a bit more since sparring more with Knuckles and doing more top secret missions around Mobius - a hedgehog's got to pay for said chilli dogs somehow. But still, it didn't hurt being told every now and again I'm buff. "Besides, I got it because it's healthier." she continued, back to her annoying list again. I nearly snorted at that. "Amy, in case it has escaped your notice, but I run at the speed of sound. If that doesn't burn off whatever I eat then I'm screwed. Low fat chilli not only tastes like crap, but ruins a decent chilli dog. Thanks but no thanks." I hummed, squeezing her shoulder once as I walked past her. She simply shrugged, the matter dropped just like that. That's one of the things I appreciate about Amy - she doesn't go on and on. We talk it out and it's finished, rarely to be brought up again. But now I knew she was getting the good chilli my itch to get out of the supermarket and burn off some energy was tingling through my body. Amy picked up on it instantly and nodded, "Go ahead, I'll see you later." she smiled. Grinning because my friends a mind reader I quickly kissed the top of her head and bolted out of the store. But then I remembered something and did a quick 360 to go back. I ran up behind Amy and whispered in her ear, "I think you're hot too, Ames." Grinning from her bodies shivery response I was about to run again when her matter of fact voice followed after me. "Yeah, I know I am." Jogging backwards so I could turn to see the smirk I knew she had on her face, I saluted her come-back with a laugh and wink, leaving for good that time. Maybe I'll join her shopping again soon, I thought. Just because. xXx I ducked back down behind the crackers I was hiding behind as I watched Sonic disappear out of the store for the second time. I stared at a random spot on the floor, confused and curious. Are Amy and Sonic - are they in a relationship? When did that happen? Why didn't he tell me? I thought I was his best friend, his little brother. And I use the term little very loosely these days as I'm almost on par of height with him now. But still, why didn't he tell me? Peeking back over the crackers to see where Amy was I watched her for a few seconds, part of my mind telling me this was being a bit stalkery, and the other wondering why I wasn't going up to say hello to her in the first place. It's not as if we don't bump into each other here on the rare occasion I do come here to get my groceries. I guess I'm still floored by what I just watched. I mean, they didn't kiss in the middle of the shop or anything. But they looked - familiar - with each other. Unless I've had my focus on someone else too much and haven't noticed. Embarrassment flushed my cheeks at the inner truth of that possibility. I know Sonic hasn't dated anyone in a while. The few relationships he has had haven't gone on for more than half a year at least. Though I've had my suspicions in the past that it's because he's never really acknowledged to himself his true feelings for Amy, the relationships he has been in seemed as though he was happy? Although again, maybe I wasn't paying enough attention. It's been a whirlwind few years as Eggman has eased off on his attacks and everyone has found other things to fill their time. I've thrown myself into my inventions and making a name for myself in the scientific field off my own merit and not someone who works alongside Mobius' hero. Not to say I'm not grateful to be best friends with Sonic! Of course I am and he's my biggest supporter and pusher. But to be acknowledged that I have reason to give other inventors a run for their money, especially someone like me at the young age of twenty is enough to give me the boost I needed to put more time into my own interests. We all make time for each other still, that's the important thing. And when Eggman comes rolling in with his bots, we're all there to take him down every time. Still, Sonic and Amy together? If it's secret they're doing a bad job of it. So it can't be that. "Tails?" Twin tails bristling in surprise as my ears flattened to my head with guilt, I spun on my heel to face Amy. I'd been so caught up in my own thoughts I hadn't noticed that she was gone and heading my way. I felt my blood rush to my face. "What are you doing behind the crackers?" Amy's asked not unkindly as she smiled coming in for a hug. I accepted it gratefully, hoping it would give me enough time to cool my engines. When she pulled away I hoped my face was a little less red than before. "Um, hi!" I answered, looking around for an answer that I hadn't come up with in those few seconds. "I thought I'd heard Sonic's voice, but I must've just missed him," I sighed inwardly with relief for not lying. I had heard his voice and I had missed him. Half truth or not, I hate lying and Amy knows me too well for me to even try to get away with it. "I wasn't expecting to see him here." A full truth, I don't think I have ever seen Sonic go willingly shopping before, let alone with Amy. Not a statement I ever thought I would say about my two old friends. Friendly as they were when we were younger, it's most definitely on a different level now. Sonic has always respected Amy and the skills and support she's brought to our team. Did she make him a nervous wreck? Absolutely! Was she a bit of a mad fan girl in her early teens? Without a doubt. But she is and always has been an integral part of our team and a good friend to Sonic as well and Knuckles and me. We fear her hammer more so now than ever, but she's a formidable friend and her and Sonic have gotten a lot closer and more comfortable with each other as they've grown up. Not just because she's stopped squeezing him and demanding dates with him either. Amy blushed slightly as she said, "He caught me out trying a different tinned chilli so he wanted to come make sure I got the right one," Her eyes shone with humour as she said it, that part of the conversation between them was a part I had overheard. I didn't miss the openly - err - appreciative look she gave Sonic too when he asked if she was calling him fat. I almost gave myself away from my hiding spot when he demanded to know that. The idea of Sonic getting fat is laughable after-all; he has the metabolism off the charts. I'm aware he goes to Amy's for dinner on occasion. But now I wonder just how often. "You can't fool Sonic when it comes to his chilli dogs," I laughed, knowing that one myself first hand. "Lesson learned," Amy laughed with me before sighing in defeat and waving her list in the air. "I have to finish this shopping, I've got a list of errands to run still. But I'll see you soon for our night at Rouge's, right?" "Of course, I wouldn't miss it." I answered, thinking of Rouge's club we make the effort to meet up at once a month since she opened it's doors. In support of her own business venture that suits her perfectly, clichéd as it may seem. A bat running a nightclub, who can be her own security if she wishes? It's a lucrative venture. She's incredibly popular for her own reasons, and she doesn't just open the doors for people to dance and drink. She holds fundraisers there too, supporting different charities. She's even held a few speed date nights too. They've proven to be very popular apparently. With us all being older now, it's nice to do something different. Something - normal. "Great! See you soon, Tails." Amy gave me a quick kiss to my cheek and dashed past me with her cart, leaving a subtle scent of her perfume behind in her wake. I shook my head as I watched her leave. I noticed one or two men watching her go too, much to her obliviousness. I ground my teeth and scowled when they turned back and caught my eye. My message clear as they ducked their heads and ignored me. I might be slightly younger than Amy, but I'm taller than her now and definitely don't appreciate her being ogled like that. She's like my sister. Even if I was kind of stalking her behind some crackers myself. Sighing because I was right back to that confused and curious state, I decided to grab what I came here for and get back to my workshop so I could disappear into the tornado again. If Sonic and Amy want to be together than great! I won't pop their bubble by bringing it up if they're not ready to tell people yet. Besides, it's taken them long enough. Damn stubborn hedgehogs.

#sonamy #sonamy fanfiction #sonic the hedgehog #amy rose #sonic x amy #fanfiction

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salavante · 5 years

Note

Aesop 29 or the Helmsman

(I’ve drawn his floating head a lot, so here’s him with his hood up, which I draw less) Also formal apology because I think like maybe no more than four people who follow me play Destiny, so a couple things may sound a little esoteric. I’d suggest checking out the Ishtar Collective (links to offsite) if I refer to something unfamiliar.

Full Name: Aesop-29

Gender and Sexuality: Male and Homosexual.

Pronouns: He/Him.

Ethnicity/Species: Exo, from the little crop of Destiny fancharacters that I have.

Birthplace and Birthdate: Unknown factor. But Aesop was found by his Ghost in the middle of nowhere, in a southwestern state that I have not chosen yet. Arizona, Texas, Colorado and Southern California are all candidates. Aesop has just a little bit of a Texan accent.

Guilty Pleasures: Aesop is trying to learn how to play guitar and is really bad at it, making him very shy and nervous about his attempts. Similarly, Aesop enjoys singing, but usually does it when no one else is around - because no one else has really heard him sing before, it is a well kept secret between him and his Ghost that he’s actually pretty good. I personally like to keep the list of music that he likes to the 50’s-60’s bracket to match the kind of retrofuturistic style that the Golden Age tech in Destiny has. We the viewer read it as being ‘old’, even if it’s much, MUCH older than we realize because the setting is far future. That’s really all that matters, that we recognize it as being antiquated. His favorite of the very small pool of albums he has access to are Marty Robbins’ “Gunfighter Ballads and Trail Songs” and Nancy Sinatra’s “Boots” and “Sugar”. Sojourn teases him about it and has thusly introduced him to the feeling of shame. He also likes drinking alcohol even if it doesn’t actually make him drunk. Sometimes he does it out of spite. Someone you don’t like? Pound his drink right in front of him and walk away.

Phobias: Aesop’s kinda agoraphobic - he feels trapped and panicked in enclosed areas with lots of people, can be overstimulated by large groups of people talking/making a lot of noise. This makes him mostly useless in large-scale conflicts. He has managed to curb some of this by being accompanied by Sojourn or Calico to areas or situations that are high risk (whether that means a combat scenario or just going to The City), but this can get squirrely because Calico doesn’t have a ghost anymore and if killed would die permanently, and Sojourn has a tendency to get worked up in a fight and leave him behind on accident. If everything goes well though, Aesop is perfectly functional fighting in the small group that is his fireteam - himself, Sojourn (exo warlock) and King (human titan). His ghost, Chanticleer, can also sometimes talk him down if he’s starting to spin up into a panic attack. It’s something that he wants to fix, but, existing within the confines of your anxiety is a cold comfort that he indulges in. In general, he’s a very anxious person with a lot of existential dread, but he puts on a clownish, brazen act and hopes people don’t notice.

What They Would Be Famous For: Honestly, probably something very mundane, like breaking a dopey Guinness-style record or something like that. The entire point of Aesop is that he is very average in his skills in a world of blisteringly powerful space wizards and the like. I find his challenges are more about what goals he sets for himself and if those goals conflict with the status quo. Does his worth need be defined by how good he is at killing things vs. is the pursuit of personal wellness and happiness selfish in the context of a world fighting for its survival. Can these things coexist. etc.

What They Would Get Arrested For: Probably something relatively benign done for the sake of pulling a dangerous stunt in the name of fun or looking cool. If he was a regular ass human in a normal modern setting, probably taking a nice vintage car for a joyride.

OC You Ship Them With: Aesop will have a love interest in the comic canon, but I’m gonna keep that under my hat for awhile yet. It’s not Cayde though, Cayde is dad. If Amanda Holliday was a man, he’d be utterly and entirely in love, but, alas. He’s still infatuated with her platonically though, and thinks she has pretty much the coolest job in the world. A promise of visiting her is a good way to entice him into going to The City.

OC Most Likely To Murder Them: When death is not a factor, this becomes less of an issue, hah. Aesop and his bff Sojourn have killed each other a number of times in training, to an almost nonchalant degree. Aesop has also been killed much more in training, by his fireteam’s resident titan, King. Aesop will also find a rival in a local Fallen pike gang, the leader of which has the placeholder name of Easy Rider. I also have a Cabal villain I am throwing around and trying to decide if they’ll stick, but I need to do a lot more work and research on that. They’re my least favorite enemy type mechanically, but I think they could make perfectly acceptable antagonists in a narrative.

Favorite Movie/Book Genre: Aesop does not read. He can, he just doesn’t. I think maybe, MAYBE, someone could get him to read comic books, but those aren’t very sturdy and I feel like the amount of intact physical copies at this point would be almost nothing. The pool of movies and media that he has available to him are very sparse, but he absolutely drowns himself in spaghetti westerns, and would probably also like trashy action movies if they were available to him. I also think he would like Grease, HAHA. It has cars and guys in leather jackets singing in it. He’d also probably like any kind of rustic, western themed musical. And anything with cars in it would have his immediate interest no matter how bad it is, but he’d zone out in any parts he doesn’t like.

Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: To be honest I think most of the time, movies are a little too long for him and lose his interest partway through. He has a really short attention span and anything too long, complicated or artsy will lose him and he’ll start being fidgety and chatty and start making his boredom everyone else’s problem. Even if there’s a movie he likes, if there’s a part that’s boring to him, he zones out. He probably watches the same 2-3 movies over and over again, which is fine because his available library of media is probably really small. I like to think that they probably have movies in some kind of archive that they put up publicly in The City every once in awhile, like they have a projector that puts it on the side of a building and people just bring chairs and shit. Aesop has an aforementioned fear of crowds but he probably does some hunter parkour bullshit and perches somewhere at a healthy distance to watch from afar, as long as it’s something he thinks he would like. If he doesn’t he gets up and leaves.

Talents and/or Powers: Aesop seems to have an interest in vehicles, but due to a bet with his mentor, Calico, he has not actually been taught how to drive a Sparrow and so pines for them from afar. As said, he’s learning how to play an instrument, and if we want to be technical, is a Gunslinger speced Hunter with the Golden Gun super. He is very bad at being stealthy, as he is very impatient and is also a little bigger than the average exo. He’s just kinda tall and wide and tends to clunk around. If his Ghost Chanticleer wasn’t as clever as she was, Aesop would probably be perma-dead by now.

Why Someone Might Love Them: He’s kind of a dumbass and a space cadet but has the potential to be very sweet, and the people he cares about, he latches on to really hard. Similarly, when set to a task he cares about, he does not quit. Unfortunately, many of his goals are unresolved, but it does not mean that he will stop trying. If he were to, say, become romantically interested in someone, he would go to great lengths to connect with him, even if it meant doing things Aesop himself may not like. In specific circumstances, Aesop may find that he has a great capacity for nurturing and bringing out the best in other people, a talent Aesop himself undervalues. Though he’s not all that intelligent, Aesop is very reflective and existentially inquisitive, and thinks about a lot of big picture stuff that other people might push aside in an era of crisis. Though he may not understand science or the way the world works in a mechanical sense, he is awed by it, and is a great appreciator of natural beauty. He’d cry at a particularly beautiful sunrise, if he could cry. I’d say he could be described as having a romantic soul.

Why Someone Might Hate Them: To be honest, Aesop has trouble establishing empathy with people he doesn’t know very well, and so is less invested in Earth’s plight than he probably should be (it would not be hard for Dead Orbit to sway him to their views). This makes some people think that he doesn’t take his charge seriously, and they also usually assume that he’s a slacker because he’s plateaued in his abilities so early. Really, Aesop is acutely socially anxious, can have panic attacks in large crowds, and generally prefers to stay away from The City unless he needs to go there, and so has a big emotional disconnect from it. Calico and Chanticleer have tried to get him more accustomed to groups, but has been thusfar mostly unsuccessful. His insecurity and anxiety also cause him to pull odd, dangerous stunts to prove his worth, making him unreliable and impulsive. He can bungle social interactions rather spectacularly, and is easily goaded into doing really stupid shit. Really, he is a person who may just be “too much” for some.

How They Change: Oooooghhh….I can’t talk about this. I forgot how frustrating it is to not be able to talk about things because you’re going to make a comic out of it. Suffice it to say he’s gonna change a lot.

Why You Love Them: I think Aesop encapsulates a lot of anxieties I have post-college. Aesop is a person in transition who is unsure of his future, knowing only that he can’t quit now, because quitting means failure and failure means death. Because he is in transition, he is anxious about forming relationships with people, worried that either he will be left behind by them, or that they won’t like him when he’s “finished” becoming a person. I think he has a complex relationship with his personhood and sense of self. I dunno, I think that’s an interesting anxiety for a protagonist to have. I am also interested to see what Aesop will end up contributing to his society/organization and his interpersonal relationships, and if he’ll be happy with it. I’ve put a lot of work into him, the ‘original Aesop’ I had in mind might as well be a completely different character now. Aesop was originally a little cameo that I did in our TTRPG game, Godslaughter, because my boyfriend had put a dunmer cameo character into our game and I wanted to return the favor. Then he made a sheet for him. Then I decided to keep him around, then I decided to play Destiny 2, then I decided I loved it, lol. There is still a version of Aesop in the TTRPG but he is so incredibly different, they may as well be different characters. We refer to him as “Bad Aesop” but should probably call him something more dignified (we won’t).

#solrika

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ganymedesclock · 7 years

Text

We Wayward Stars ch. 4

Fandom: Voltron Legendary Defender

Summary: Altean Lance fic. Things begin to hit the fan. Orbital reentry included.

Several people are standing. A few of them are hunched over their computers, still- most of them are looking up at the larger monitor.

Everything is normal. Within bounds. As predictable and neat as anything can be observing the moon of a planet at the edge of the solar system.

Nothing is wrong, except the fact that three people and their entire ship should be there. Or, in fact, anything, except a single bored hole to suggest anyone was there to drill an ice core in the first place.

“Think the kid could tell us about it?”

Iverson’s good eye doesn’t pull away from the monitor.

“I mean, the alien one.”

“I know which kid you mean,” he grinds out, with about as much patience as he can manage at that point. “What do you think he’s going to tell us? There’s an empty moon where two of our best men and a promising cadet used to be?”

The officer shrinks a bit at his tone- but holds strong. They’re all stressed. It’s hard to talk to anyone in this room without running into sharp edges of some kind. “He mentioned he was fleeing something, right? And we got an energy spike from 01 the same day they missed their first check-in.”

“Or we can try not to make baseless guesses about something we clearly don’t understand.”

Another person speaks up, quietly. “So we’re lying to the general public and pinning the blame on one of the victims.” She doesn’t pull her eyes away from her station.

“You do me a favor, you find Shirogane alive and get a better explanation for what happened, I’ll personally apologize to him and everyone else. In the meantime I’d like to avoid a global panic.”

The woman doesn’t lift her head to meet his eyes, but her tone is distinctly drawn taut when she says “Yes, sir.”

It’s only years of muscle memory in military posture that keeps him from deflating. “Good. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like someone to explain how a thirteen-year-old broke into my office this morning.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Working towards fighter class takes up a lot more time than he expected, which ultimately, works out very much in Lance’s advantage.

Space travel is imperfect. Earth is doing its best, but they don’t have… anything, really. It makes sense not everyone is going to make it out. And he knows already that he can’t help with that from his current situation.

He hadn’t known Shiro as much as he had Sam, but it was enough to know that he’d been an incredible guy. Charming, polite- and incredibly good at what he did. You didn’t get where he was at 24 without something going for you.

And now they were gone. Just like that. And the worst part was afterwards; more or less the entire Garrison campus moving back to business.

He can’t even begrudge them. He’s doing the same himself.

Hunk disagrees, considering the number of times Lance talks him into sneaking out of the Garrison- but sometimes he just has to get away from it all, and the least he can do is spread the joy a little.

A few times, he seriously debates sneaking in to see Blue. He could probably just ask the Garrison, but another part of him resents that. She doesn’t belong to them. Ultimately, it doesn’t come to anything- he’s occupied, and stays that way.

Keith disappears. The instructors call it a discipline issue. Rumors abound about a fight. A few of them insist he put someone in the hospital- stabbed them, even. A lot of it just sounds like gossip, and Lance isn’t interested in poking around. Either way, it stands that his dorm room is empty within a day, and no one afterwards seems to have any idea where he went.

A week later, Lance makes fighter class. He gloats about it- but there’s a bitter aftertaste to it.

He knows who that spot belonged to.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Simulator class proves to be simultaneously the greatest and worst thing that has happened to Lance since arriving on Earth. The first time everything lights up in a field of stars, it doesn’t feel like a fake ship. It doesn’t feel like a pretend assignment. He can’t even listen to what he’s supposed to be doing- Hunk, and the other student they’re paired with, some fourteen-year-old whiz kid- because he’s back out there.

It feels almost like home.

And then the ship crashes.

Well, no. That’s avoiding the issue.

And then he crashes the ship.

Iverson makes it very, very clear after the fact whose fault that was.

Excuses clatter ineffectively around Lance’s head for hours afterwards. The controls are wrong. He’s out of practice. That’s not how space works.

None of them actually make it out his mouth.

He resolves to try harder. Cautiously. Manages a few good exercises, and more bad ones. It’s never completely easy, never completely like what he’s used to- and he’s not alone in the ship. He butts heads with Hunk, and the other one- Pidge, which he swears is some type of Earth bird. Who names their kid after a bird?

So-and-so Gunderson, apparently.

Outside of being fourteen, a few things stick out about Pidge. He’s squirrely around the instructors sometimes- but that doesn’t stop him from yelling at them from time to time. After a while, a particular subject emerges that seems to be the target of almost every one of Pidge’s outbursts.

Kerberos.

The failed mission.

He still hadn’t talked to Iverson about it. Hadn’t been sure what to say. You don’t lead a conversation about someone else’s loss with ‘jeez you humans sure are bad at space, am I right’.

(Especially considering his track record with the simulator)

But it feels like there’s something to say. Earth is a galaxy over from what’s considered civilized space- it’s a fringe planet if there ever was one- but if one of the Lions is here, someone should’ve come by now. An Altean scout ship, or…

Lance puts down the book he’d been trying to read the entire time. “Hey Hunk, how do you feel about having a night on the town?”

“You mean sneaking out again? After we just got chewed out by Commander Iverson? No, great, I love it, just two guys getting in trouble for like the eighth time this semester alone.”

“Well, it won’t be just us. It’ll be-”

“Oh no,”

“Team building.”

Hunk sighs, deeply, picking up his vest from where he left it. “Has it occurred to you we can bond doing other things? Things that won’t get us in trouble?” He takes a moment longer to find his boots. “Like, I dunno, group study session.”

Navigating the hallways at this point is easy enough, even taking a detour to try and get to Pidge’s dorm. It’s not even enough to keep Hunk from continuing to complain, though he keeps his voice down after the lights shut off.

“...start an agate collection. Get fast food sometime. Of course by ‘get fast food’ I mean let me make you something that isn’t overcooked garbage but y’know-”

“Shh!” He hesitates at Hunk’s brief, affronted look- sorry buddy, it’s for a cause- and then pokes his head around the corner, just in time to catch a retreating flash of orange sneakers.

…Looked like Pidge had other plans for tonight. But now, so did Lance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You come up here to rock out?”

There’s a moment where Pidge defies gravity by sheer force of surprise. He shuffles clumsily in place- feet together, hands in his lap, somehow trying not to look suspicious. “Oh. Lance. Hunk. No, uh, just looking at the stars.”

An appraising eye sweeps over the miscellaneous scattered hardware. “Where did you get this stuff? It doesn’t look like Garrison tech.” Insofar as his knowledge of human anything goes.

“I built it.”

“You built all of this?” There’s a thread of awe in Hunk’s tone- it’s hard to say how much Pidge appreciates it, because he definitely doesn’t appreciate the questing fingers heading for the keyboard.

“With this thing, I can scan all the way to the edge of the solar system.”

He plays at considering it- as if he just picks the thought out of thin air: “That right? All the way to Kerberos?”

He watches Pidge fold away from the name.

“You go ballistic every time the instructors bring it up. What’s your deal?”

Silence- except telling Hunk off for touching something again. Time passes. Too much. After a moment, Lance sits down, cross-legged. “Hey, we’re not leaving anytime soon.” Partially because he doesn’t think he could tear Hunk away from that setup if he tried to- out of the corner of his eye Lance can see him inching towards the screen again.

“Fine.” Pidge turns to face them both, an odd expression of gravity. “The world as you know it is… about to change. The Kerberos mission wasn’t lost because of some malfunction or crew mistake.”

Oh he’s just decided he really doesn’t like where this is going.

“…So I’ve been scanning the system, and picking up alien radio chatter.”

“What have you been hearing?”

Both Hunk and Pidge are staring at him, but he doesn’t really care. Suddenly, the peaceful blips on the two screens don’t seem nearly so much of an idle curiosity. He makes a grab for the headphones.

Pidge finds his voice first. “Lance, what the hell?”

“Depending on who’s talking, this entire planet could be in big trouble.” The headphones are halfway to his ears when a much smaller hand catches his wrist.

Perplexed hazel eyes are studying him sharply. “What do you know about this?”

He forces himself to breathe. Lowers the headphones. If Pidge is right, there’s a whole solar system they could be in. There’s no guarantee they’re heading for Earth now. Yet.

“…How much trouble are we talking here?” Hunk ventures into the silence.

“I mean a fleet. Maybe not the entire thing. They might not even know I’m here. It’s been over a year-” Maybe it’s not Zarkon. Maybe it’s a friend. Maybe they’re trying to hail. “Pidge, I’m serious, what have they been saying?”

“...Well, I haven’t been able to make heads or tails out of a lot of it, but, there’s been one word that keeps repeating.” Pidge rummages at their notes. “Voltron.”

“…Quiznak.”

“What?”

“It’s like a swear word,” Hunk clarifies; Lance tones him out, stumbling to his feet.

Pidge twists in place. “Where are you going?”

“Commander Iverson needs to know about this.” He makes it about two steps to the stairs when the sirens go off- the campus is going into lockdown. Or he already knows about it.

He barely has time to process before Hunk is pointing out something.

Something coming down from the sky.

Pidge holds up binoculars for a moment. “…Lance, were you serious about a fleet?”

There’s a dark speck in the center of the fire. He swipes the binoculars, not paying much attention as Pidge comes along for the ride.

“…That’s too small to be a cruiser. Way too fast.” He waits for them to pull up, slow down. It nosedives into the ground instead, impacts with a brilliant flash.

Pidge is already gathering his stuff as furiously as he can go. Lance doesn’t wait, but runs for the door. “Hunk, c’mon!”

He doesn’t know who’s coming down but he has to meet them.

And oh god he wants to be wrong about who sent that ship.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He’s not. By the time he’s gotten there, the Garrison has beat him to it- there’s a tent set up, surrounded by guards and people. But it’s altogether too easy to see the faintly glowing pod already tied down for transport.

Pidge hesitates, watching him at an angle before broaching the subject. “Do you… recognize that?”

“Yeah. Bad news.”

He slides down the slope easily- the guard standing closest to the entrance spots him, trains their rifle in his direction. “Stay where you are!”

He pushes something out through his teeth that’s more irritated huff than meditation breath and shifts.

The guard flinches. A hasty conversation passes on radio- Lance could nearly pick it up, but he’s distracted when a faint chorus of scraping noises signals that Pidge, then, after a moment, Hunk, have joined him. They stay behind him when he approaches the quarantine unit.

“Look, you-” even with face concealed, the guard is sizing him up, nervously. “Nobody’s getting in here. Commander Iverson’s orders. That means you, too. You’re not even supposed to be here.”

With a distinct thread of palace hauteur, Lance squares his shoulders. “That’s a Galra pod. The ship that launched it isn’t going to be that far behind. So either you can go tell Commander Iverson that, or you can get out of my way and let me do it. You know, like we agreed I was supposed to if something like this happened.”

“And what about them?” They take a hand off the weapon to motion over his shoulder.

Hunk is looking distinctly uncomfortable- not the normal kind, the ‘this is a bad idea but I’m going along with it because you’re you, Lance’ but genuinely unnerved, and a pang of guilt hits Lance hard.

Pidge meets his eyes, brows knit together over them. Spindly hands are balled tightly into fists. It looks as if they’re caught somewhere between ‘please’ and ‘don’t you dare’.

With a bravado that Lance doesn’t remotely feel, he sweeps back around to face the instructor. “They’re with me.”

Faceplate notwithstanding, he can feel the guard’s incredulous look. He refuses to let his own waver, until the guard breaks away from him to talk on the radio. It’s a very short conversation, something he’s not sure if he finds heartening or dispiriting.

Either way, he doesn’t get to hear the answer.

Because right then, something explodes.

#voltron legendary defender #vld #Lance #Altean Lance #fanfiction #We Wayward Stars #readmore #Ganymede Fic Tag

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thaliaanddestiny · 7 years

Text

HIIYE--Stay Alive

“Stay Alive.” DRACO Malfoy didn’t want to be here. All he really knew, was that his parents were wrong in their loyalties and Voldemort was evil. That didn’t mean he was on the Order’s side; he wasn’t sure where he stood. He identified more with their beliefs than the Death Eater’s, despite the black ink engraved in his arm.

He did know, however, that he could never coexist with a vampire. He wasn’t sure if Lupin, the only person he trusted anymore, felt sympathetic because of his own condition towards this girl, and that’s why they were here. He didn’t really know anything anymore, except that he did not want to be stuck in a house with a vampire. He’d rather be stuck with bloody Potter and the Hero’s Complex Society.

Lupin had explained to them that her condition wasn’t something that was her fault, but that hardly made a difference to Draco. He knew that she had been a witch before, a more powerful one than any in their world, but he didn’t care. She was cursed; that made her no better than Voldemort in his eyes. A shell of a person she could have been.

But then he had saw her. When she walked into the house with her long, dark hair and her extremely tight shorts, his heart had constricted and he lost his breath. She was beautiful; and he prayed that this was somebody else, that this wasn’t the repulsive creature he had heard so much about. When she finally turned to face him, he couldn’t help but examine the freckles dotted across her nose and cheeks and her eyes--Merlin, those green eyes. He’d never seen anybody with eyes quite like that, and he wanted so badly to not be attracted to her. When she had said her name, the name he had associated with a disastrous being, his heart had plummeted into his stomach with disappointment. He hated her even more because of how beautiful she was; it simply wasn’t fair for someone so otherworldly to be such a disgusting monster.

He wanted to hate her; so that’s exactly what he intended to do. He was going to hate her with everything he had. It was better than the alternative, which was to accept the fact that she was exactly like them, a sad girl stuck in a spot she didn’t want to be in. Unfortunately, he could relate.

Draco made his way downstairs and found Theo and Blaise staring at a screen of moving pictures. He’d had it explained as a television by Tonks, but he didn’t quite grasp the concept yet. He imagined it was much like a stage play, only on a moving picture screen. He stood a few feet away from the couch and examined. There were people dancing on a ship; a pretty redhead girl and a squirrely blonde boy. He wondered briefly how long ago they’d put it on.

“Welcome to the land of the living,” Theo greeted without a glance towards Draco. Draco took that as an invitation to join his comrades on the couch.

“What the devil is this?” He asked, his face scrunching up in distaste. “Some Muggle shit?”

“It’s called Titanic,” Blaise interjected, staring at the screen. “I think Destiny said it actually happened in Muggle history.” Draco scoffed and fiddled with his long sleeves. He found himself wearing a lot of long sleeves lately. He didn’t like the way people stared at him when they noticed his Dark Mark. He also didn’t care a thing for Muggle history, even considered telling the pair to turn it off. However, he too found himself becoming engrossed in the film not too long after.

The boys were subconsciously aware of a door opening some minutes later, but none moved from their spot on the couch or turned around to inspect who had entered the room. It wasn’t until they heard a crash that they were interested in what might be taking place in the real world.

Thalia and Destiny were standing behind the couch, facing each other, and Damon was smirking to Destiny’s left. Both girls looked tense, and Draco wondered if a catfight would be about to ensue. He bet they were both screwing the full vampire.

“Are you going to keep lacing things with vervain for me to just find?” Thalia hissed, anger bubbling up inside of her. Draco’s stomach dropped in disappointment. This didn’t sound like anything he could have conjured up to imagine; it sounded much more boring.

Thalia’s hair was curled today, Draco noticed. And hated himself for it.

“I’m trying to teach you how to sense the vervain,” Damon argued, rolling his eyes like he had better things to do. “It’s not my fault you keep ignoring it and burning yourself.”

“Surely there’s a better way to teach her,” Destiny input, clearly fed up with this argument. Draco wondered how long it had been going on; it seemed as though it was a common occurrence.

“Trust me, there isn’t,” Damon chuckled, looking back and forth between the two girls. “This is how we all learn. Experience.” Thalia snarled at him and gave Destiny a pleading look, begging for her help. Destiny looked back at her helplessly; as much as she didn’t appreciate Damon’s unorthodox methods, she didn’t doubt his results.

Thalia shook off her jacket and Blaise gasped. It was then that their hosts noticed the three Slytherins sitting on the couch, watching their whole exchange hungrily. Draco briefly wondered why Blaise had gasped, but as his eyes wandered over to Thalia’s bare arms, he knew. She had intense burns, all the way from her elbow to the palms of her hands. He looked up, and their eyes met; Thalia growled and glared when she noticed he was eyeing her burns.

“I don’t know how you expect me to heal these the human way,” Thalia snapped at Destiny, angry. Draco and Theo eyed one another warily, and Draco wondered if either of his companions knew what she meant. By the look on Theo’s face, he was just as in the dark as Draco; but Blaise had compassion in his eyes and Draco made a mental note to grill him later.

“It’s the best thing for you,” Destiny said slowly, eyes flashing with anger. She didn’t care that the room was suddenly overcrowded; chances are, the three boys would know everything soon enough. The sooner the better, really. She hoped Lupin would be arriving any day to help Thalia search her own memories so she could conquer the curse and get her magic back. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that your burns from yesterday were suddenly gone this morning either.” Thalia’s face went red at that, but Draco had a funny feeling she was more angry than embarrassed.

“I need alcohol,” she finally declared, sending one last glare directly to Draco before heading into the kitchen to scavenge for anything to get her drunk.

Destiny gave a frustrated huff and glared at the three Slytherins also, sauntering past them and back out the open door.

Damon turned to the three boys and gave what Draco thought was supposed to be an awkward smile--though he doubted anything Damon did was unintentional.

“Girls,” Damon commented with a shrug, his leather jacket wrinkling up slightly. “Any chance you tools can--oh, I don’t know--take your little sticks and zippity-zap that conversation from your brains?” Damon was met with three blank stares. He whined, “I didn’t think so. I’m gonna go check on abrupt exit numero dos.”

He left the three half-witches to their cliche movie and hurried out the door, hoping Destiny hadn’t wandered too far from the house. He was ecstatic to find her just a few feet away, leaning against their large fence and picking at stray dandelions.

“I’m super not in the mood for your brooding,” Destiny greeted, not looking up from her patch of picked dandelions. Damon stopped short and feigned offense, gaping and even clutching his heart dramatically, hoping Destiny would crack some sort of smile. To his delight, the corner of her lips turned up a tiny bit. A tiny bit--but he was willing to take that.

“I am not the broody one,” Damon argued, his lips pursed as he plopped down next to Destiny on the grass and effectively cutting off her reach of dandelions. She glared down at the grass until finally, she met his eyes. “My brother is clearly the broody one. You even met him, you know what I’m talking about! I’m even less broody than Thalia is.” Destiny actually laughed at that and cocked her head to the side.

“Well you aren’t wrong about that one,” she consented with a sigh, eyes that were beginning to be lost in thought. She raised her to the level of her chest and began to levitate the broken dandelion pieces with her magic, a habit she did when she was bored. It was one of the reasons she felt awful for what happened to Thalia; not having magic would be like losing your sight after having it your whole life. It was you--the entire essence of who you were.

“She’s going to learn how to control it,” Damon’s voice floated into her thoughts and broke her out of her trance. She watched as the dandelions fell to the ground and the joyous rush of magic left her system. “We all had to learn. It was harder for some than others, but eventually, most of us get it.”

“Why did you stay?” Destiny suddenly asked, translucent eyes boring into Damon’s vibrant ones. He didn’t know why, but he was a little nervous. He gulped, but Destiny didn’t notice. His persona was still intact.

“I don’t have anything back in Mystic Falls for me to go back for,” Damon answered with a shrug, as if it wasn’t a big deal. He could tell, however, that Destiny wasn’t the type of girl to like guys who under-shared--and he had no idea why he cared about what she’d like. “To be honest, I was in love with someone there. I’ve only been in love with two people in my whole life--and both of them chose my brother over me. So, call me crazy, but I wasn’t exactly keen on going back there.” He felt embarrassed at revealing the information, but at least he hadn’t given any specifics. It was worth it, though, when he saw the wonder in Destiny’s eyes when she looked at him again.

“They must have both been crazy,” she whispered so softly that Damon wondered if he had imagined it. However, when he studied her, he heard her heart start to beat faster and noticed the slight tinge of pink appearing on her cheeks. She dared herself to look at him, and was about to open her mouth to say something, when they were interrupted by a horrendous scream.

* * * * * * *

Thalia meant to pour herself a glass of wine, but there was only half of it left anyway so she opted for just drinking it out of the bottle. Tonks and Andromeda had went to retrieve Lupin--who couldn’t come yet for reasons undisclosed to her--and wouldn’t be back for probably a few days. Thalia doubted they’d notice a single, half-full bottle of wine missing.

She was only a minute into drinking when the realized she was hungry; for blood, and food. She hated it the most when it was both, although she did appreciate the fact that she really couldn’t gain any weight from it.

She stalked over to the fridge and emptied a blood bag into a plastic yellow bowl. She took out a bag of cheese and dumped most of its contents along with it, mixing it with a spoon, and then setting it in the microwave to heat up. It was disgusting, probably, but it satiated her hunger and actually helped the disgusting taste of blood to go down. Destiny had gagged once when she watched her do it, and she tried not to be offended, but she honestly couldn’t help it.

When her meal was finally up to her expectations, she greedily began digging in, hoping it would cool the heat in her throat. She wasn’t aware there was anyone in here with her until someone began to clear his throat, causing her to jump and spill a little down her shirt.

With a groan, she began dabbing at the fabric, but she was going to have to change her shirt. She shot a glare to the doorway of the kitchen, angry at her intruder, and found Draco Malfoy standing there with a smirk on his face. She couldn’t help but notice how good he looked with that smirk on his face, hands in his pockets, leaning against the doorframe. She scowled at him.

“Can I help you?” She asked monotonously, rising from her seat at the table and straightening herself out. “Did you forget how to get to the bathroom already? It’s a small house, Malfoy, but I suppose you are only a half-witch--”

“I was just wondering if perhaps you wanted to share that drink,” Draco interrupted, nodding down to her bottle of wine. Thalia raised an eyebrow; she was quite certain that’s not why he was here.

“Yesterday you wouldn’t shake my hand,” Thalia started, “And now you think we should have a drink together? I would ask if you laced it with vervain, but I’ve already started drinking it so you clearly didn’t.”

“I don’t know what vervain is,” Draco answered. He did know that he was halfway through that ridiculous Muggle movie and he couldn’t get his gorgeous hostess out of his mind. He felt...bad for her, in a way. Especially after seeing the burns on her arms. He wanted to try, for some reason. He wanted to try to understand her. He wanted to hate himself for it, too, but he couldn’t think of anything but how she had captivated his mind. “Look, I’m just...trying to make up for my rudeness yesterday. And I certainly don’t want to piss off a vampire.”

Thalia hesitated before she said, “No you don’t.” A smile played at the edges of her lips. She whisked the bottle from the table and held it out to him. “Be my guest; Tonks would kill me if I drank the rest of it alone anyway.” Draco eyed her burnt-up arm before he grabbed the bottle, wondering why they didn’t have any magic herbs she could use to heal it. They had tons at Hogwarts; certainly they would have things here.

“Well isn’t this an interesting turn of events,” another voice floated into the room, causing Draco to spill some wine. Thalia frowned at the loss, but then her eyes drifted to the doorway where Theo and Blaise had appeared a few steps behind Draco. Theo, evidently, had been the one to have spoken and was assessing the situation with humored eyes.

“Theo,” Draco growled, and Thalia noted that it sounded much like a warning.

“I’m just in shock,” Theo laughed sarcastically with a shake of his head. He strode further into the room and Thalia felt intimidated by his sudden closeness. “I mean, Blaise has to be nice to the bloodsucker because Loony likes her; but I thought we were keeping a level head about this.”

“Theo,” Blaise growled, shooting Thalia an apologetic look. Thalia felt her face go hot in embarrassment; besides the bloodlust, this is what she hated most about being a vampire. People everywhere would find her to be a monster the second they found out.

“Save me the speech, Zabini,” Theo hissed at him. He edged closer to Thalia and she wanted to move away but she held her ground. This was her house, and she’d be damned if she let him know she was afraid of him. “Muggles are one thing; at least they are natural. What she is?” Theo gestured to Thalia and made a sickened face as he looked her over. “That is the least natural thing there is to be.”

“You accepted Lupin,” Blaise interrupted, inching slowly closer to the two of them. He stared at Thalia cautiously, and Draco moved to her other side protectively. The two boys knew they had to handle the situation carefully; they didn’t want her hurt, but they knew where Theo was coming from. They were all way around this new persona.

Thalia wondered why the two of them seemed to be taking her side; but she knew she could handle herself. She moved away from the three of them and leaned against the sink. “She is no different.”

“She drinks people’s blood,” Theo exaggerated, looking at Thalia with complete disgust. “All the time; what happened to Lupin, he can’t control.”

“You’re right,” Thalia interjected, keeping her voice clear and steady. “I drink people’s blood; all the time.” Theo was taken aback; even Draco went impossibly paler. “I can sense it flooding through your veins at this very second.” She walked closer to Theo, until they were practically nose-to-nose. She hated him. She could feel her hatred for him and his incorrect analysis of her burn within her; she wanted him gone.

“So what’s stopping you from tearing into us right now?” Theo prodded. Thalia wondered what his endgame was; did he want to provoke her? Prove that she was the monster he wanted her to be?

She wasn’t.

“What’s stopping me?” Thalia repeated with an offended laugh. “I don’t feed on people, Theo. I am still a person.” When he laughed at that, she drew her arm back to slap him but he grabbed her hand. His fingers were around her Daylight Ring--and suddenly, she was worried. Her eyes flickered down for a second--just a second--down to her ring. Theo, however, was paying attention and followed her gaze. Tightening his grip on her arm, he smiled widely at her.

“What’s this?” He asked, fingering the ring around her finger. Thalia’s breath hitched and he started to slip it off.

“No!” She protested loudly, which seemed to further ignite his curiosity.

“Theo,” Draco weakly interjected, but it was too late. In one swift move, Theo slipped the ring off of Thalia’s finger and unfortunately for her, she was standing right in front of the open window.

The three boys watched as her skin suddenly began to boil and she screamed. Draco had never heard such a painful scream before, and he acted fast. As Thalia ducked to the ground, he threw himself over her to shield her from what appeared to be the sun.

“Theo, give her the bloody thing back!” Draco hissed at his friend, leading Thalia into the shade. Blaise shut the windows and closed all of the blinds, and Draco took that as his cue to remove himself from Thalia’s cowering body. He helped her up and inspected the burns from the sun; she was red, but it wasn’t too bad.

“What the hell was that?” Theo asked, face blanched. Thalia set a fierce glare on him and there were hot tears spilling from her eyes.

“If I don’t wear that ring, the sunlight will burn me alive,” Thalia growled, edging closer to Theo. She was careful to tiptoe around the sunlight pooling in from the living room. “Give it back.” Theo tossed the ring around in his hands and smirked at her.

“Theo, seriously,” Blaise argued, grabbing him roughly by the arms, “give it back.”

“I don’t know,” Theo toyed, “I don’t trust her.”

“She let us into her house,” Draco argued, “you’re being ridiculous and vindictive. You’re acting out because or Parkinson--”

“Don’t bring her up to me,” Theo threatened, something dark flashing across his face. Thalia raised an eyebrow at Blaise but he wasn’t paying attention to her anymore. Angrily, Theo tossed Thalia the yellow ring back and bolted out the back door and into the street. She eagerly slipped her ring back on her finger and watched as Blaise and Draco followed Theo out, without a glance back at her. As soon as Destiny got back in, Thalia was going to demand they be moved elsewhere. The only one she trusted was Blaise, and Draco was so back and forth with his opinions of her that it was too confusing. Theo had almost killed her--they needed to be gone.

Her body turned to ice when she heard the screeching of wheels and a lot of awful screaming. Afraid, she hurried out through the back door and saw a black car zooming away into a neighboring street. Her eyes fell to the scene three feet away from her, but she couldn’t make out what exactly was going on. Draco and Blaise were yelling at each other and had their wands out, assessing some type of situation.

Thalia smelled blood, and that’s when she knew that something was wrong.

She rushed to the scene before her and found Draco and Blaise leaning over Theo’s spasming body. It was clear to Thalia that he had been hit by the car she had just seen spiral away. She stood behind the boys and watched as they tried, futilely, to heal them with their wands.

“It isn’t working,” Blaise cried out, tears streaming down his face. He fell back and his chest began heaving up and down stressfully. Draco continued to examine his friend with a stoic face, although the emotions in his chest were running wild. Theo couldn’t die; he was a petty, ill-mannered git, but he had a whole life to become something better. That’s why they were here.

“He just-- he didn’t see it coming,” Draco started spewing, his eyes met Thalia’s helplessly and she looked back down to Theo, who was getting worse by the second. The urge to drink his blood was present--but the hatred for the boy who had almost killed her was more so. She did nothing to help; why should she hurt herself for someone who hated her?

“There isn’t a spell big enough that can help him,” Blaise panicked. He began to punch the asphalt road and Thalia jumped. Draco and Blaise’s shoulders slumped in the defeated way of men who knew they couldn’t do anything more.

“We have to help him,” Draco growled, “he is going to die.”

“I know that!” Blaise yelled back in anger. He began to cry in fear of losing his friend. It was that sight, the sight of the only person who had given Thalia a chance, that made her snap. The guilt began to consume her, and she couldn’t stand to see these two so...helpless. So afraid to lose their friend. “Draco, we can’t save him--”

“But I can,” Thalia spoke softly, examining the scene. She didn’t want to...but she was no monster. “I can heal him.” Draco and Blaise stared at her in awe and she continued, “get him inside. Now.”

They lifted him up and carried him in quickly. Thalia pushed everything off of the kitchen table and they laid him down. He had stopped spasming now, and his breathing was getting slower and weaker. Draco and Blaise crowded around her as she hopped onto the table with Theo, straddling him, and pressing her palms flat into his chest. She was distinctly aware of Destiny entering the room, asking what had happened, but the magic began to flow through her already as she began to suck in Theo’s injuries.

“Phasmatos sana,” Thalia’s voice hissed, although she didn’t notice she was saying anything at all. Draco glanced up at Destiny in confusion, but Destiny only furrowed her brow in worry. She had never seen this in action.

“I thought she lost all of her magic when she got cursed,” Blaise intervened, confused.

“She did,” Destiny confirmed, “This is an unfortunate side effect of the curse. Looks like it’s playing out well for you lot, though.” She glared at them all angrily. Draco met her angry glare and was instantly confused.

“PHASMATOS SANA!” Thalia screeched now, louder and louder. With every breath, they could see Theo getting stronger. He was conscious now, blinking, and after a few more uttered phrases, Thalia’s body began to tremble and Theo took in a huge breath, sitting up and knocking Thalia off accidentally. Damon hurried over and caught her, carefully placing her on her feet.

“I don’t know what to say,” Theo spoke up, looking at Thalia guiltily.

“Get out,” she snarled back, “All of you get out!”

“Thalia, what on earth--”

“Look,” Thalia cut in, backing away from them all and heading for the door to the back, “It’s about to get very, very ugly right now so you all have to leave.”

Destiny’s heart began to race in fear and she spoke, “What do you mean, Thalia?” Thalia simply shook her head, looking afraid herself, when she felt it begin. They heard her bloodcurdling scream before she collapsed to the ground wailing. They all moved closer to her and Destiny gasped.

Theo’s wounds began to echo on Thalia’s skin, exactly as they’d been inflicted on him. She screamed and scratched at her arms, and Draco couldn’t help but think she looked like she was insane. When Theo’s wounds began to fade away, she did the craziest thing of all; she took a knife out of the pocket of her pants and sliced a thin line down her arm. Destiny screamed in protest and confiscated it from her, but Thalia’s breathing began to even itself out.

Surprisingly, Theo was the one to approach her first. He hugged her fiercely and squeezed her hand tight when she began to throw up everywhere, blood and food. Destiny clutched onto Damon’s arm for support and Draco hurried over. He placed a hand on her back, and that’s when he heard that Theo was apologizing to her, over and over again. Thalia showed no response, and when her legs went numb, she collapsed into Draco’s arms. She sought out his grey eyes and when she found them, she closed her own.

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