8 Works by Regulascain
Listing Works
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Summary
“Can I kiss you, again?"
The words are raspy and weak, and so, so very genuine.
Regulus sits and questions all his choices. While doing his best to turn a blind eye (though he only has the one) to the weird ache in his chest when he takes in the words, and focus more on the matter at hand.
"No," Regulus whispers. He shuffles on top of James, leaning closer. "What are you to do when the emperor passes?"
James' eyes widen, he lurches back. Head pressing further onto the pillows.
Regulus follows, the knife pressing harder into the skin, which stretches and pales under the pressure.
"Mourn him," James says simply.
Regulus raises a brow.
"And after that?"
Or, Regulus is welcome back to court, one-eyed and vengeful, after a ten-year banishment under the edict that he and James marry. The problem is, well, that he rather despises James.
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“You haven’t changed much since we’ve come here,” Jack murmurs thoughtfully after a long moment. “Everyone else has.”
“You've only indulged,” Simon denies quietly. “We’re all who we’ve always been, some things have just grown larger while other parts have shrunk.”
Jack removes his head scarf, drags it from his face, and places it onto the log. Simon still can’t see him through the face paint. He reaches out, running his thumb across his cheek. Jack goes still, a statue, marble carved and sculpted to his likeness, but doused in paint. He is the same Jack he has always been, in shape and size alone. Yet the paint is smeared on so thick that when Simon pulls away with a blackened thumb nothings given away on Jack's face.
Or, Simon lives to see another day and he and Jack have a talk
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Nick's cold.
He's thirsty, too. But it's the cold that he focuses on.
They snag a room for cheap, all Nick has to do is sweet-talk a guy, tell him his shirt's sick–that he, himself, used to like that music too a good couple months ago, before everything went to shit. Said he liked his hair while batting his eyes. And the guy coughed up a room key for four tokens a night, says they get the buddy discount. Nick leaned against the wall and beamed at him. Noting the red spreading up the back of the guy's neck as he murmurs a thank you. Troy pulled him off with a scoff, stumbling down the hallway towards the back.
Or, trick find another high to indulge themselves in the night of the bazar.
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Nick's back to the west, he faces the east: the past left behind him, the brunt of it sitting heavy in California, with what's little left covering the footsteps he’d left behind in each state. Little by little, he left it behind as he traveled past the Midwest and into something new. He shut his eyes and breathed that weight down until it was barely anything at all.
A family left sitting around the dinner table, one seat empty. The scrape of silverware against plates, and polite mumblings. An elephant sitting in that room, instead of him.
Or, while Nick finds his peace and keeps his eyes to the East, we, as Orpheus, crane our necks and look back. The West sits with an unburdened past shroud about the land, a family left behind, and far too delicious to ignore.
Series
- Part 2 of The Scream Becomes A Yawn
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Summary
Nick looks up again, finding the man from earlier already looking over at him.
It’s that visual electric snap that rarely happens with strangers, that shock of inexplicable recognition, that fast catch and firm latch that happens when a cerebral switch is flicked. Recognition that Nick can’t quite place–and that the man seems to have. A twitch of his insincere smile, pulling down as he fights back a real one. A dip of his chin, and a slight pull of his brow.
Nick physically recoils, not knowing where this familiarity is coming from. People are friendly, conversational, kind–but, and this is not said to stereotype…this man seems to be none of those things.
There's a glint of something in his eyes, a flicker of mania. Something Nick only seems to see nowadays when he glances at his reflection.
Or, Nick learns how to stay gone when he runs.
Series
- Part 1 of The Scream Becomes A Yawn
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Summary
He hates him. He loves him. He's twelve, crying in his brother's arms. He’s twenty with a knife he wants to hold against Sirius' throat. He wants to cut deep and feel the blood splatter against his face, to feel Sirius go slack in his arms. He wants to gut him from the inside out, and with Sirius dead, James would follow swiftly. He remembers the balls they attended together. How James would take him for a dance, and how Regulus would tolerate his stupid, pretty, unbearable face for Sirius’ sake.
That was years ago now, Regulus is grown now. Preparing for his inevitable succession to the throne. He is heir now, after all. Regulus is grown, and he is made of nothing but anger. Nothing but spite. Nothing but murderous intent. He wants to kill them both. Unfortunately, that's not in the cards
Or, Regulus has been heir to the throne for five years, after his estranged brother's title was stripped from him. In those five years, Regulus has more than proven himself worthy of the title. Now though, He must travel to James' kingdom to unite their kingdoms in a peace treaty. With this, comes the buried past brought to light.
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“The trees out near the crash aren’t far.” Troy shrugs, casual. His fingers flex around the steering wheel, his foot taps against the break to avoid a pothole. Nick lurches forward, he reaches his hand to catch himself on the glove box. Pushing off of it until his back hits the leather behind him again, though he doesn't reach for his seatbelt.“The soils soft, you could dig a grave for her real easy, and if you hadn’t collapsed from that we could go looking for Travis before it gets dark, bury him next to her.” It’s a sweet offer, to bury the found bodies of Nicks family. And out of character. It’s a hatchet to bury. Troys ready to wash his hands and conciliate Nick best he could. Nicks tired, and he’s ready to crash and sleep for a week in a bed with clean sheets. Part of him, really wants to give in. To be able to find them both again, with in his reach and rotting next to each other. But no, after everything. He could do this one last thing for the woman who lays behind him, dead in the bed of the truck. He shakes his head, “Why is this so important to you?”
For the first time, Nick looks at him.
Blue eyes, terribly blue, so terribly blue. It’s almost a grotesque.
Or, Nick kills Luciana
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Thought I caught lightning in a bottle, but it’s gone again. by Regulascain
Fandoms: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
06 Nov 2024
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Summary
"Didn't know you had it in you, to be honest," Troy said, referencing the night hidden between the dirt and long grass, Troy's gun pointed at his own neck. A bullet wasted, buried in the soft ground. His eyes flickered between Nick and the hammer. Like he was afraid Nick might just use it against him.
And Nick can picture it, bringing the hammer up to Troy's temple in a quick, fluid motion. A sickening crack echoing off the bare walls. Troy’d drop to his knees, pupils wide and dilated. Just staring back up at Nick. Nick would bring the hammer back up, high in the air, retightening his grip. Knuckles white before he swings it back down. Hard, cruel and damning.
Nick gnaws at his bottom lip, looking back over to Troy.
But, no.
No.
That's not fear.
Or
Nick and Troy hook up the night after Luci leaves.