#- of course director graves -

[jayaury]

Trip to the Stars

Another older story now available for free! And plenty more on you know where: https://www.patreon.com/c/JayAury

#

“I don’t care how much those damn squids are offering! Their world is a fucking sewer, and I’ll be the one deciding where the cruise heads to. And if they don’t like it, then they can stick themselves in airlock and blow it out the void!”

Devon Logan touched his ear, killing the frequency and shifting to the next one as he swept through the dark steel admin hall of the Stellar Fete. He shrugged his shoulders, the microfibers of his suit shifting smoothly over his body like a second skin. He really disliked the thing, but the future hereditary manager of Logan Cruises had to look the part, and he did at that. Dozens of juvenative treatments, bio tinkering and nanomachines had perfected him to his role as heir to the pleasure barge’s long line of directors. He wasn’t just born for the role, but molded to it.

He swept a hand through his pale hair, blowing out a sigh as he stepped into the elevator, the door sliding shut and shooting him up into the guts of the ship, towards the sacred heart of the director’s offices. Stars but it was exhausting managing the business. Especially as they were getting closer to launch. A dozen generations had built the Stellar Fete into the sector’s premier vacation yacht. The future leaders of worlds, megacorps, and systems enjoyed its services when they needed a break from the turmoil of their work. But that meant he never got one. He groaned, cracking his neck.

He needed a drink or a stim. Maybe both.

The elevator beeped as it hit his office floor, the curving door sliding open with a hiss. “Julianne!” he said as he marched towards his office. “Hold all calls. I have some personal business to take care of.”

“Of course, sir.”

Devon was halfway into his office when that voice actually registered. Midstride he stopped, walked backwards, and stared at the woman in his secretary’s chair.

Last time he checked, it had been occupied by a slim young woman in a skin-tight bodysuit whose short hair failed to hide her large eyes and the access implants in her neck.

Now, however, it was occupied by a woman as curvy as one of the finest pleasure bimbos from the gene cutters. Her green breasts were huge, cradled in a tight band of red cloth. Another swept between her legs, hiding the treasure that lay between. A perfect hourglass of womanly curves, her hair was bright red and cascaded over her shoulders like the molten surface of a dwarf star. Her eyes were deep, dark, and her smile pretty and radiating a sweetness that made his cock tingle in the tight confines of his pants.

“Julianne?” he said skeptically. Had his secretary gone to the gene modders in the last few turns?

“Afraid not, sir,” the woman said, her voice carrying a thrumming purr that seemed to shoot straight into his animal brain and ache in his crotch. “My name is Amoora, your new secretary.”

“What happened to my old one?” he said.

“She had an unfortunate accident, sir.”

“Accident?”

“Owing the Drax such a large sum of money tends to invite them. The Stellar Fete’s system acted quickly to replace her, given how close you were coming to launch day.”

“... Uh huh. And it hired you?” Devon said.

“I was considered the best match for your current needs, director.”

Devon didn’t doubt that. How could he? The ship’s AI system had guided the last four generations of directors from cradle to the grave. If the system said that Amoora would make his best assistant, then he had to assume it knew what it was doing.

Still…

There was something about the whole situation that sat strangely with him. Some niggling suspicion. It certainly didn’t involve Amoora herself. She was exactly his type, which was possibly why the system had hired her on.

“Alright,” he said slowly. “Well, no calls.”

“Of course, sir.”

With a lingering look on her, he slipped into his office, the door sliding shut in his wake with a magnetic hum. He exhaled heavily and made his way across the large barren room, taking a seat behind the black plasteel desk that dominated the center. As soon as he sat down the system came alive, screens projecting above his desk in glowing blue blocks, the walls swirling in soft violets as it projected images of the Stellar Fete from every angle.

“System?” he said. “Did you hire Amoora?”

“Confirmed, sir,” the AI said, voice flat and even. “It was determined the most efficient course of action given current circumstances.”

Ah, of course. It would be thinking of that. Devon rubbed his chin with thought. “What sort of alien is she?”

“A mooma, sir.”

“Mooma?” He frowned. “Never heard of them.”

“They are an uncommon species, director.”

That he could believe. He’d seen hundreds of thousands of alien species over the cycles, but even those were a mere fraction of sentient aliens in the galaxy.

Yet there was something about her that made him uneasy. What that was eluded him, but he still felt it keenly. An almost animal instinct not of danger, but of something else.

He drummed his fingers on the desk. “System?”

“Director?”

“Send in… Amoora,” he said. He considered himself an appropriately wary person, and though he trusted the system to make certain decisions, he was still director, and deciding on who would be personally assisting him was certainly in his purview. And if he didn’t like what he heard, he’d just fire her. There were plenty of others who would be eager to take the job, that much he knew for sure.

“Of course, sir,” the system said.

He killed the program with a sigh and tapped one of the glowing keys in his desk, causing the screens to vanish with a blink. Within moments the door slid open once more and Amoora stepped inside.

He’d thought he’d gotten a good look at her before, but the one he was receiving now only further reinforced what a gorgeous specimen of alien beauty she was. Though her figure had a striking hourglass curve, there was a mature plumpness to her, especially in the chest and hips, further emphasising her almost primal femininity. She struck him with her loveliness, something the meager straps she wore as clothing did nothing to hide, and even seemed at pains to emphasize. Her red hair was long, framing her gorgeous face, soft and sweet with a smile that just seemed to say, ‘I’m going to make it all better.’

“Please,” he said, gesturing at the chair across from him. “Take a seat.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said, sitting delicately across from him, smiling warmly. As she did, Devon caught a whiff of her perfume. Something sweet and floral. Tantalizing and yet, strangely familiar. He took another sniff, trying to figure out what it was.

“Is something the matter, sir?” Amoora said.

“Hm? Oh, no. Nothing. Nothing at all.” He cleared his throat. “You ah-”

“Because you seemed distracted, sir.”

“Hm?”

Amoora smiled again at him. “It must be very stressful, sir, managing this whole ship. A wonderful pleasure cruise, certainly. I’ve heard it highly recommended. It’s only a shame you can’t enjoy its services as well.”

“Well, you know,” he said, both flattered and oddly uncomfortable. “It takes a lot of work to keep this ship running.”

“But you surely consider some relief, don’t you?” she asked gently.

“I have a few ways to relax.”

“Would you like to be shown another?”

“Hm?”

Amoora rose back to her feet and Devon stiffened as she moved around the desk and behind him. He knew he didn’t need to worry. The system would respond instantly if it felt like he was in danger, and no weapons were allowed on board, under threat of jettisoning into space. But he still sucked in a breath as her hands came to rest on his shoulders.

“What are you… you… Ohhhh…”

Devon groaned as her fingers began to flex and knead his shoulders, digging into him in a way that seemed to loosen every tightened, aching muscle.

“Your system did mention you get so awfully stressed, sir,” Amoora said, her voice soft and soothing while her hands did their work. “It mentioned it had been looking to hire someone skilled in that. In helping eeeease all that stress. Help your relaaaax after all your work.”

“D-did it…” Devon managed to say as Amoora’s hands did their slow, methodical work.

“Oh yes. You have such a loyal system, Devon. It makes me so happy to know how much you need me. You work so very hard. You deserve to relax a bit. To feel good. To feel better. To feel eeeeasy.”

Devon was feeling relaxed. Easy. Like a great burden were evaporating from his shoulders. He sank slowly into the chair, groaning, his head coming to rest against something soft. Something that certainly wasn’t the back of his chair. He opened his eyes and found himself tilted back, Amoora’s face hovering over his, smiling. Which meant it was her soft breasts which were currently cushioning his head.

Devon felt a slow flush rise to his face. “I-”

“I do hope you’re enjoying my work, director,” Amoora said sweetly as her hands again resumed their work on his shoulders. “And I would just like you to know that if you need anything… anything at all, I’d be delighted to care for you. Provide you with what you need. Like a massage. Like a big… soft… needy body for you to fuck…”

“You…”

“Aren’t you horny, sir?” she cooed, her lidded eyes bright as she gazed down at him. Pretty as galaxies. Swirling softly. “Would you like me to… help you relax… further?”

Devon inhaled deeply, taking in a great lungful of the alien’s pleasant perfume, the warmth of her massage oozing through him wonderfully. He was so very relaxed. And he surely did feel uncomfortable in only one way, owing to how his pants constricted his cock. “Hmm… Well, if you’re offering…”

“Of course,” Amoora said, stepping around him, her breasts wobbling as she lowered herself to her knees before him, eyes twinkling teasingly up at him. “I must obey my employer. It is only natural to ensure he is satisfied with my… service…”

She gave a wink, and her fingers undid the front of his pants. Devon groaned as his cock sprang free, throbbing with desire for the shapely green woman. Amoora’s eyes brightened even further at the sight, her smile deepening adoringly. “Oh sir,” she breathed, wrapping her hand around his root. “Such an impressive specimen.”

Devon chuckled. “How could it not be?” he said. “I’ve been designed to be… mmm… peak of human physical prowess.”

“And it shows, sir,” Amoora said, moaning softly as her tongue ran up along his underside, making him gasp and groan. “Mmmm. Such a powerful man, sir. It truly is an honour to… serve you…”

Devon was rapidly coming to the same conclusion. It really was a wonderful thing to have such a skilled pair of hands helping him out. Not even the whores on the pleasure deck could match the touch of the goddess currently kneeling between his legs.

“May I take you in my mouth, sir?” Amoora said just before her tongue made another loving lap up his cock. “I would be… ever so grateful…”

“Yeah. Sure. That sounds… sounds good,” he gasped.

“My thanks, master,” Amoora said, tilted his shaft towards her open mouth, and took him deep.

“F-fuuuuucking staaaaaars!” Devon groaned as her lips sank down. Devon knew he had a big cock. He’d been designed with one. Yet Amoora took it with ease, swallowing him to the hilt and beginning to adoringly bob.

“Fuck!” Devon gasped, grasping her head, her red hair soft beneath his hand as he pushed her down on his cock, fucking her mouth with growing urgency. “Fuck! Yes. Just like that. Fucking take my cock. Oh stars. Oh staaaaars that’s gooood!”

“Mmmmm,” Amoora moaned, the sound vibrating through his manhood as she bobbed even faster. Even harder. His cock squeezed in the warm vice of her lips, mouth and throat. Devon had long prided himself on his iron self-control, but that couldn’t save him from the suction of the mooma’s mouth.

“Fuuuuuuck!” Devon groaned, shuddering as he came, balls tightening as he unloaded great bursts of his pearly seed into Amoora’s mouth.

The mooma hummed, her eyes lidded as she gently suckled on his cock, her throat working as she swallowed every drop of his load. As Devon sank into his chair, panting, Amoora’s lips dragged off his shaft, popping free only for her tongue to tease around her plump lips lovingly, her lashes fluttering as if she were on the brink of sharing in his orgasm.

“Mmm. Thank you, sir,” she said with a smile. “Are you satisfied with my… service?”

“Huh?” Devon said, stirring from his rapture. “Oh. Yeah. Yes. I… I am…”

“Excellent. Then, I will be outside sir,” she said, rising, her plump breasts wobbling in her impossibly tight top and stirring Devon’s cock once more. “Please, do call me if you need anything else.”

Devon watched her turn, hips swinging as she strode back out the door, which closed with a hydraulic hiss behind her. Devon sighed, sinking back into his chair, amazed not only at her, but himself. He could normally fuck almost a dozen women before feeling so sated, but he wasn’t even sure he could get up from his chair after that blowjob.

But he wasn’t worried.

Oh no.

His body was designed to adapt to any and all circumstances. Before a week was out, he knew, he would be able to fuck that beautiful mooma into a puddle of moaning lust.

Yeah.

But… later.

For now, he was feeling more relaxed than he had in years and years. With a sigh he eased back into his seat, breathing in the air thick with Amoora’s perfume.

Maybe this secretary business wouldn’t be so bad after all…

#

Devon made it a point to make his way through the ship when they were preparing to begin another cruise. It did well for the crew to see him taking a personal interest in preparations. It ensured they kept in mind that the ship didn’t merely run in the void, but that there was someone at the head commanding them.

That said, he still hadn’t decided on which planet to make the destination of the next cruise. It was a bit of a conundrum for sure, but he knew he’d come across one soon enough. He always did. And the aid of his new secretary was surely making it easier.

Speaking of…

“Do you have those world maps for me yet?” he asked as they strolled through the cavernous gallery overlooking a shipboard theatre. He glanced over the rail, watching a number of drones hum around the seats, cleaning them with mechanical precision.

“Of course, sir,” Amoora said, passing him a data slate as they stepped into the tight confines of a waiting elevator.

He took the slate, rolling his shoulders as he felt the sleeves of his suit slide down his arms. Odd. It wasn’t fitting him as tightly as it used to. He’d have to get maintenance to take a look at that.

He was still looking through the files when the elevator hissed, doors sliding open and revealing that they were on the recreation deck. Devon paid little attention as he moved onto the floor, followed closely by Amoora. He was vaguely aware of the great windows that looked out onto open space, the view magnificent, even if the refueling station currently took up a fair bit of it, along with the innumerable shuttles zipping between it and open space.

“Hmm…” Devon mused, a flick of the finger paging through the brochures of hundreds of resort worlds. “No. No. Not too good. I think that one had a civil war. Pirates in that sector… Wait,” he said, stopping in the middle of the pool room, whose walls shimmered with the glowlamps under the water, reflecting a purple and blue veined with the white of waves. Devon squinted at the tropical beaches on the screen of his slate. “What’s this one?”

Amoora leaned over his shoulder, which gave him another whiff of her sweet, floral perfume. “Oh, that’s Mandina, sir.”

“Mandina?” he said. “I’ve never heard of that one. It’s not on our usual list.”

“No, sir,” Amoora said, tapping the screen, which proved distracting as her impressive, soft breasts squished against his back. “It’s a relatively unknown resort world, but very popular among moomas.”

“It is?” Devon said.

“Yes, sir. Which is likely why you’ve never heard of it. Moomas are very… private about our recreation worlds. Many slavers would delight in paying us a visit.”

Devon glanced from a pic of egg-shaped habs scattered about blooming jungles, his eyes taking in Amoora’s figure once more. “I… imagine so,” he said, then shook his head, clearing his throat. “Well,” he said, returning his attention to the screen, walking on. “It’s unusual, and we only visit worlds I’ve personally vetted, so it’s unlikely we’ll choose it.”

“Considering it is already quite generous, sir,” Amoora said.

Devon felt his skin tingle with her praise. “Yes, well… it’s very unlikely still,” he said as they passed from the pool room and into the gymnasium where a number of the resident fitness trainers were in the midst of practice.

“Good cycle, sir,” one of the fitness instructors said.

“Hello,” he said, nodding absently, then stopped and looked in surprise. For a moment he thought that Amoora had wandered past him, but no. Looking closer, he quickly made out a number of differences in the stunning green woman standing not far. As gorgeously curvy as Amoora, this mooma however had a smaller nose and was slightly shorter than his secretary.

“You are…” he began.

“A new hire, captain,” Amoora said, nodding at the other mooma. “This is Majaala.”

“New? But-”

“She comes highly recommended, sir, and will surely be a welcome addition to attend your guests.”

“I aim to please,” Majaala said, dipping in a bow, her breasts bouncing with the motion.

Devon stared at her, for a moment too shocked to formulate any words. He… he personally examined every new hire’s file before they were brought on. How had he missed that? Had he forgotten?

Who had hired her?

He suddenly looked sharply at Amoora, who smiled sweetly. A sudden suspicion rose in his mind, but he couldn’t make a scene here. It wouldn’t look good to make it seem like he wasn’t in control.

“I need to speak to you. Now,” he said.

“Of course, sir. There’s an empty room over this way.”

“Good. Great,” Devon said impatiently, following her.

She led him into an adjoining room, where massage tables sat in rows and tanning beds were propped up along the walls like missile pods waiting to fire. A soothing darkness radiated from a number of large dark lamps, in whose glow Amoora seemed almost radiant in her green skin and lush red hair.

Devon faced the mooma with a scowl as the doors sealed shut behind them “Now look-”

“Are you upset, sir?”

“Of course I’m upset! How was she hired? Who did it?”

“Why, I did, of course,” she said with a puzzled look. “Why are you mad, sir? Didn’t I do a good job?”

“That’s not the point!”

“Isn’t it?”

She suddenly took a step forward. Devon blinked, retreating in surprise, only for the back of his legs to hit a massage bench. He fell back to sit on the padded seat as Amoora moved in closer, her wobbling breasts eye level, her perfume hitting him in another waft of sweetness.

“I only wanted to serve you better, sir,” Amoora said, pouting, her soft red lips pushed out.

“You-”

“I know how very stressed you are, sir,” Amoora said, her hand coming up, brushing his cheek. Devon felt a shiver race through him, like a spark of electric delight. “I know how hard you work for this ship. How much you give to it. How much it weighs on you. I just wanted to take some of the pressure off. Was that wrong of me, sir?”

“I ah…”

“Is that not something a good assistant should do?” she asked.

Devon breathed in, gasping as her scent seemed to fill him. A floral and sweet medley that rushed into his limbs and head like a stimulant shot, making him float as if the gravity drive had broken. He tried to hold onto his anger, knowing if he let his authority slip it would be near impossible to get it back. But… well… it was hard to get mad at her. He could see how she might have thought she was helping him. And she was still so new to the job. Some errors were to be expected, he supposed.

“Well… I suppose you were trying to help,” he said slowly.

“Of course, sir,” Amoora said, her face smoothing into a happy smile. A look that made his heartbeat quicken and tension unknot in his stomach. “I’m only here to serve you. To serve such an impressive man. To help him any way I can.

“Such as finding the most capable girls to staff your ship,” she added, pushing in closer, her breasts practically in his face, her hands planting themselves on the bench beside him, trapping him with her body. “Because I know your time is far too valuable to waste vetting a bunch of silly bimbos coming to work on the Stellar Fete. Your mind is always occupied with much more… important things.”

“O-oh,” Devon breathed, eyes riveted to the perfect green orbs bound up in her top. “That ah… I mean, that’s true, of course.”

“Of course it is, sir. And you did hire me, sir. So why shouldn’t I know the specifics of what you’re looking for? It’s really a testament to your own brilliance, Devon, that I felt sure I could take that task on. All for you. My brilliant, handsome, strong director...”

She… she had a point, Devon had to admit. After all, if she felt confident assuming what his orders would be, wasn’t that just testament to how right he had been in hiring her? And the other mooma was clearly a good fit for the ship. If she was half as good at massage as Amoora, then there wasn’t any real reason to protest. Certainly, he doubted the guests would.

“Yeah,” Devon said, starting to smile as he watched Amoora’s immense breasts rise and fall. Rise and fall with her slow, heavy breathing... “Yeah. That… that’s true. Yeah,” he repeated, breathing deeply of her wonderful perfume. “Yeah…”

“You know, Devon,” Amoora said, leaning in closer, her breasts wobbling mere inches from his face, his breathing growing heavy. Shallow. “I find a man who takes charge so… deeply attractive. Moomas all do. A man who knows what he wants. Who’ll do what he needs to. Who’ll be such a… good boy…”

“Yeah…” Devon breathed. Then blinked. “W-wait. Did you say a-”

“A translation approximation, Devon,” Amoora said easily as she straddled his lap, her soft body pressing down on him, her breasts practically smothering him. “Not entirely accurate, but the mooma term is quite loaded. Much like you. Oh sir,” she groaned, her hips rocking, grinding herself on his bulge, making Devon groan. “I can feel how pent up you are. You mustn’t do that, sir. It might inhibit your decision making, being so horny. So backed up with your virile… hot… cum. We must take care of that, mustn’t we?”

Well, Devon had no objections to that! “Sure,” he said, grinning as he reached up, cupping the immense globes of her breasts, his fingers finding the catch of the strap. “Let’s… let’s do that…”

Amoora moaned as the strap clicked, fairly popping free, her immense breasts wobbling into the open, practically slapping his face with their glorious heft. He leaned in at once, lifting them up, smothering himself with her immense breasts contentedly.

“Mmmm,” Amoora moaned. “Oh sir, you do love a big pair of breasts, don’t you?”

Devon certainly wasn’t going to deny that. Especially a pair as gorgeously big and soft as Amoora’s. They fairly overflowed from his hands, soft as marshmallows. His cock throbbed in the prison of his pants, straining to be free and taste the gorgeous green alien astride him, still rubbing herself against his throbbing manhood.

“Oh Devon…” Amoora moaned as he fondled her tits. “Devon, I need you. I want you. Devon… Let me fuck you. I need you…”

“Y-yes,” Devon gasped, his head spinning and body throbbing with the surging desire racing through his veins. As he felt her hips cock, her hands slide the strap that served as her panties down. “Yes. F-fuck you. Gotta… ah…”

He felt her hands on his loose clothes, stroking him, stripping him. The fabric automatically separated around his chest, peeling off to reveal his toned abdominals. He groaned as the seam split around his pants, his cock fairly springing upwards, only to be ground under the groove of Amoora’s pussy as she rocked forward.

“Ohhhhhh!” Amoora moaned, a sound that seemed to vibrate in the hollow spaces of Devon’s body. “Oh Devon. I can feel it. Feel how horny you are. Oh sir, it must be so… so hard to think when you’re… ah… when you’re s-so haaaard. Please. Oh please, sir. Let me… let me relieve you. Let me free you… ha… of that b-burden…”

Devon had no doubt that she was referring to the burden of his arousal. What else could it be? And it was a burden. His balls ached with his need. His head throbbed and body burned with every rapid beat of his heart. He was so horny. So desperate to cum.

“A-Amoora,” he gasped from between her breasts. “I… I need…”

“I know, sweet thing,” Amoora said, arms moving around him, pulling his head deeper into the valley of her breasts. “I know. And I’m going to give you everything you need. Oh Devon… I’m ready. Ready for you. Ah,” she gasped, her body rising, lifting off his lap, allowing his cock to spring up to throbbing attention before her hips fell, sheathing him inside her pussy.

And into heaven.

“Oh f-fuuuuuuc!” Devon moaned as she planted herself atop his cock.

“Oh stars yessss!” Amoora moaned, her hips rising, falling, fucking herself greedily atop his cock, her breasts bouncing around his face, smothering him in her titflesh and the sweet, suffocating perfume she wore. “Yes. Yesss! Oh Devon. Yes! Give me your cock. Fuck me. Cum in me. Cum in Amoora! My good boy. My good… ha… horny booooy!”

She cried out, hilting atop him, quivering with moaning lust, and as she did, Devon felt the sudden tightness of orgasm within him. His cock plowing up into her hungry pussy, his hands squeezing her ample tits.

“Yes! Yes! Oh f-fucking stars yesssss!” Devon cried, the sudden euphoria of release rushing through him, his cock twitching as he unloaded into the mooma’s wonderful pussy. Bucks of his hips drained him into the gorgeous alien, riding high on his orgasm. At last, he groaned, falling back onto the bench, panting hard and fast, feeling drained, light, as if the oxygen being pumped into the room had been sharply reduced.

He stared up at Amoora as the mooma leaned over him, her lovely red lips smiling as her hand stroked his chin. “Did you enjoy that, director?” she asked sweetly.

“Y-yes,” he gasped, feeling drained, yet pleasantly so. “V-very.”

“I’m so glad, sir. I did so want to make sure you knew you could trust me with… anything. Do you, sir? Do you trust me like a good boy should?”

Those words again. He felt a shiver, but not of distaste. For some reason, being called a good boy by Amoora was oddly… good. It felt right. Well, maybe it was a touch degrading, but if it was a crude translation of a term of affection, he supposed he cold tolerate it. Especially if good boys got such affection from a mooma.

Oh yes. He shivered in delight, his cock stirring anew. Yes. He’d very much like to have more of that.

Amoora felt him stiffen and smiled. “Oh director,” she said, stretching atop him, pressing her heavy breasts into his chest, her face hovering over his. “Is my good boy still horny?”

“Maybe a… a little,” he admitted with what he hoped was a cocky grin.

Amoora giggled, her eyes warm and smile comforting as if she were wrapping him in wooly clouds. “Mmm. How wonderful. I do love a man who can keep going. But don’t worry, director,” she said, leaning in closer. “Amoora is going to make sure you’re nice… and satisfied…”

Her lips descended on his, and Devon groaned, feeling his cock thicken and harden once more, her hips beginning to rise and fall, fucking him beneath her anew.

It was starting to look like hiring Amoora might have been the smartest thing he’d ever done…

#

Preparation to travel proceeded swiftly once Amoora took a large hand in organizing the Stellar Fete. Devon still insisted on touring the ship, but he was less and less surprised by the number of moomas which were filling up the vessel. It seemed like they were in every department, even in the ones which didn’t require their personal touch. But the remaining human and alien crew didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, they seemed to delight in the presence of the busty green aliens. He’d walked in on more than one crewman in a dark corridor, wrapped in the arms of a gorgeous mooma, moaning as his mouth was plundered in a kiss, or his lips adored huge, bouncy green breasts.

But Devon didn’t have much time for wandering these days. It tired him, and he had a hard time finding clothes that fit him. For some reason his body seemed to have grown sleeker. Slenderer. He wondered what that meant? He’d certainly been getting plenty of exercise. Amoora seemed inexhaustible in her affections, always ready to fuck him, suck him off, or do anything he needed. Honestly, it seemed like he hadn’t managed to check the system in weeks. If he wasn’t being fucked by the gorgeous mooma, he was busy recovering from their almost constant liaisons.

“Director?”

Devon stirred from his musings, swiveling in his chair towards his desk. The neon glow of the holo screens hummed before him, the AI’s voice droning in the air.

“Yes?” he said.

“I require confirmation of our destination.”

“Our destination?” he said, then shook himself, a sudden shot of adrenaline panic racing through him. “Fuck! I… I completely forget. System? Bring up the potential locations. I need to-”

“I do not understand, director. The location has been determined. I merely require confirmation.”

Devon stared, uncomprehending, at the screen. “Wh… what? Show me.”

A screen expanded before him, revealing a familiar scene. Egg-shaped habs on a tropical landscape, the gorgeous sea and a sprawling alien jungle of greens, violets, and reds in a sweeping blur of hues.

“Mandina?” he said blankly.

“Yes, sir. Your office has selected it. I only require your final confirmation and we can begin preparing to take on passengers.”

“But… I never… I didn’t…”

Understanding hit him like the shock of decompression. His eyes snapped to the door of his office and he jabbed the intercom.

“Amoora!”

“Yes, director?”

“Get in here!”

The door slid open and Amoora stepped inside, a loving smile on her face. “Yes, sir?” she said softly.

Devon opened his mouth, but even as he did he found his eyes wandering over her figure. The rage that had flared within him faded as if smothered under a heavy blanket. In its place, a tingling ached through him, his cock instantly rock hard for the gorgeous mooma as she stood, smiling politely in the doorway, all curves and willing loveliness.

“You wanted to see me?” Amoora said.

Devon jolted back to the present. “Y-yes. Yes. I did,” he said more sternly. “I ah… Look, did you…”

He trailed off as Amoora moved into the room, her wide hips swaying like a pendulum with her steps, her breasts wobbling in her tight, tight top in such a way that arrested the eye. Her presence seemed to fill the room. Devour his view. “Yes, Devon?” she said, coming around the desk. He heard a click and suddenly, the strap of her bra was floating down, leaving free her immense breasts to wobble tantalizingly into view. “What did I do?”

“You… you… L-look,” he said, trying to sound forceful. “Did you register this… this place as our destination?”

Amoora lazily glanced over at the hovering screen. Her smile widened. “Oh yes, Devon. I did. I just know it’s going to be such a big hit.”

“Amoora, that wasn’t your decision! It’s mine to make. Where we go. Where the ship goes. That’s the job of the director! The job I was born to do! You can’t just… I mean...”

“Of course it is, Devon,” Amoora said, leaning in suddenly close. “I would never think of overruling you.”

Devon leaned back, pressed into his chair. Yet even as he did, an equally powerful yearning surged through him, begging him to move forward. To bury his face in the gorgeous orbs of her immense breasts. To nuzzle and kiss them like a good boy.

A good boy…

Devon grit his teeth, trying to resist the aching lethargy that nearly made him swoon as soon as he inhaled her perfume. Fuck, he was so hard. His cock was shamelessly bulging in his loose uniform. “Amoora, I-”

“And I think you’d love to go to Mandina, Devon,” she said smoothly, moving forward. “I’m sure you and all the sexy, rich, powerful young heirs looking for a nice relaxing vacation would just adore visiting a planet just… filled with lonely moomas, needing to spoil and fuck and adore cute, adorable, obedient humans.”

“I… I…”

“Just like you do,” Amoora said, planting her hands on the back of his chair, arching her body, pressing her bouncy breasts nearly into his face. “I bet you’d just… love to visit my world. Just adore to relax on the beach with your pretty assistant. Your gorgeous, caring mooma mistress. It would be so nice to relax, Devon. So nice to just… stop… thinking…”

“S-stop?” Devon said, his voice slurring a little, his body feeling light again, as if ready to float up into Amoora’s gorgeous body.

“Yes,” Amoora breathed, leaning in closer, and Devon groaned in despair and unspeakable pleasure as her breasts pressed against his face, nearly burying him between their pillowy valley, suffocating him in her wonderful perfume. “The director doesn’t need to think. That’s what he hires his secretary to do. That’s why she hired all those lovely mooma to run his ship for him. He doesn’t need to worry himself about all those stressful things when relaxing is so much easier. So much better. So much more… pleasurable…”

Devon moaned, the wonderful weakness spreading further through him. Consuming him in a wave of pink bliss as Amoora straddled him on his chair, rubbing her pussy against his bulge.

“Do you want that, Devon?” Amoora said, giving her chest a bounce, jiggling her tits around his face. “Do you want me to make you so very happy? So very easy? Just say yes, Devon. And I’ll take care of everything. You’ll never need to work again. Never need to worry. You’ll be such a good boy. A good stud. All you have to do is let me fuck you. Pleasure you. Adore you. All you have to do is give in, Devon. Just let mistress do all the thinking for you. You’ll still be director. You’ll still be the boss. You’ll just do everything I say. Won’t that be so much easier? So much better?

“Say yes, Devon,” Amoora moaned, her body pressing down on him, her curves so soft, so warm, so glorious. “Say that’s what you want.”

It was.

It was so clearly what he wanted.

Every fiber cried out to be hers. To agree. To do anything Amoora wanted and more. And would it really be so bad? Wouldn’t it be so good to give in? To submit? To know only pleasure?

Some part of Devon railed against the idea, but he could come up with no counter arguments to her. He did want all she suggested. He did yearn to be hers. Her obedient boy. Her horny stud. Why shouldn’t he say yes?

There was no reason to say no.

And so, Devon moaned, “Yessss!”

Amoora smiled, eased back, releasing his gasping face from the depths of her breasts. “Good boy,” she purred.

Devon sighed, sinking back into his seat, a smile hovering on his lips as if all the tension, all the doubts floated from him. Drained away with that desperate moan of admission. He felt her hand on his, pulling him to his feet. The door at the back of the room hissed open, admitting him to his state room, his private sanctuary.

A low glow permeated the interior, washing the walls in purples, oranges and reds like galaxies burning their way around them. Amoora eased him down onto the bedding, her fingers trailing down his suit, the loose fabric opening easily.

“Undress, Devon,” she breathed, barely visible in the dark lights.

Devon did so, shrugging out of his suit, letting her pull it off him, revealing his toned, slender physique. Amoora cooed, leaning over him, kissing her way down his chest, every press of her lips making his breath hitch.

“Devon. So handsome,” she breathed. “So sexy. So perfect for mistress. I knew you would be. I knew you wanted this.”

“Ah!” Devon gasped as her lips reached his cock. Amoora’s eyes glowed softly in the gloom, her red lips seeming to glisten and shine as she kissed her way up his shaft, her hands hefting her immense breasts and wrapping them around his cock. Devon was far from small, yet her breasts were so big his manhood was utterly swallowed in them.

“Oh fuuuuuuck!” Devon groaned as Amoora bounced her breasts around him, squeezing his cock in that sweet valley of pleasure.

“Is it good, Devon?” Amoora whispered, her voice seeming to echo in the air. “Are mistress’s big breasts so good and soft around your cock?”

“Yes. Oh s-stars yessss!” Devon cried.

“And isn’t it so worth it?” she cooed, leaning down, her lips kissing the head of his cock whenever it emerged, sending shocks of glorious pleasure surging through him. “Isn’t this so worth giving up all that silly thinking? All those useless decisions? Isn’t it so much easier to just be my good boy? My obedient bimbo? My handsome, wonderful, horny boy?”

“Yes!” Devon gasped. “Yes! S-so good! Mistress… Oh stars mistress!”

“There it is,” Amoora cooed. “You called me mistress. I knew you would, my sweet boy. Now, give mistress that wonderful cum.”

Her breasts squeezed his cock, and as the tip emerged her lips wrapped around it. The sudden sensation of warm tightness was too much for him to bear, and Devon let out a needy moan of pure pleasure, clutching the sheets as he thrust up into her mouth, moaning in ecstasy as he came, his cock throbbing, pulsing, unloading into Amoora’s hungry mouth. The lovely mooma moaned, her lashes fluttering as she drank the bursts of his seed with a gusto that only made Devon feel hotter than before.

Her lips slid off his cock along with her breasts, and Devon wasn’t surprised to see he was still hard. His nanobots had been quick to react to the frequency of his orgasms, and keeping erect was no problem for him now.

“Mmm,” Amooa purred. “That was wonderful, Devon. But a good boy deserves far more reward for what you’ve done,” she said, climbing onto the bed, straddling him, looming above him like some fertility goddess of a savage world. Divine. Beautiful. Worthy of his obedient worship. “Do you want it, Devon?”

“More than… than anything,” he gasped, and the truth in those words put a smile on his face.

“Then confirm our destination,” Amoora breathed. “Agree to go to Mandina. Agree, and let’s bring all your friends with us. Let us show them how much they’ll love a mooma world.”

Devon shivered in understanding. Many of the highest corporate families used his pleasure line for vacation. The sons and daughters of the wealthiest and most powerful people in the sector. All of them offered up to a ship staffed with moomas. A world filled with the seductive aliens.

With barely a thought a screen blinked into being beside him, hovering above the rumpled sheets. The DNA reader glowed like a red disc in the air as he lifted a shaking hand and pressed a thumb to it.

There was a beep, a flash of green, and the screen faded away.

“Confirmed destination,” the system’s voice chimed around them. “Thank you, director.”

“There we are. What a good boy I have,” Amoora cooed as she lazily sheathed him within her. “What a… mmmm… a gooooood boy.”

Devon groaned as her pussy swallowed his cock. He grabbed her hips as if to anchor himself to reality as waves of otherworldly pleasure washed over him. As Amoora rode him, her breasts bouncing on her chest, almost hypnotic in their sway.

“Yessss!” Devon moaned, sinking into the pleasure of the moment. Of her body. Relishing every stroke of her glorious pussy on his cock. “Yesss! Mistress! Love… love mistress! Want you! Want you! Please… ah. Mistress. Oh fuck. Fuck! Mistresssss!”

His body was perfectly attuned to hers. To her pussy. It took no time at all for him to cum again. Again. Again. A seemingly endless parade of pleasured peaks as colours swirled about the room in hypnotic tailings of lights. He felt as if he were floating. Floating on a sea of unconscious pleasure. Above depths of pleasure. And now he was sinking.

Sinking.

Deep into wonderful, heady submission.

At last he sagged beneath her, breathing hard, head as empty as his balls, finally spent. Finally done.

Amoora hummed sweetly, rising, unsheathing him from her pussy. She stepped off the bed, and at once Devon found himself staring at her gorgeous rump. Amoora spared a look over her shoulder, gave him a teasing smile.

“Be back soon, Devon,” she said. “I need to make some final preparations for our departure. You just relax. Get some strength back. I have a lot in mind for rewarding my good boy.”

Devon’s body tingled. “Yes… yes, mistress,” he breathed.

Amoora laughed softly, blew him a kiss and turned, departing the bedroom. Devon sighed, sagging limply on the bed, staring at the ceiling as the colours swirled and danced.

The future looked very bright for him indeed.

[thoughtspresso]

Oshi No Ko was about Arima Kana all along.

And I think there’s a real possibility she may die at the end.

Or be placed in the way of grave danger.

I was reading some AquKane shippers say something about how they don’t understand AquaKana, and why the writers and directors keep clearly pushing Kana towards Aqua when they barely share any chemistry. Whereas, in their belief, his relationship with Akane is more honest, deeper, whatever. I’m not here to argue about that. But I get where they’re coming from. And the simple explanation is this:

It’s because this whole story was written for Arima Kana.

I’ve seen some Youtubers talk about how this whole story was meant to be fulfillment for Ruby/Sarina’s dream to become the next great Idol, something about Amaterasu favoring her.

And that’s near what I thought of it. But I really think if the God of Entertainment wanted to bless a child with cancer a second life as the world’s great idol, they’d also give her a great singing voice, y’know?

Spoilers for the manga, of course as we go along on this explanation. So anime onlies, get caught up before you start reading me ramble.

Here we go:

1. Arima Kana is the embodiment of Amaterasu, not Ruby.

Or at least, Amaterasu’s appointed representative, or her favorite daughter.

To give you a run-down of some of the core Shinto/Japanese Mythology that is important for the story, the Creator God Izanaki had three children:

Amaterasu, Goddess of the Sun.

Tsukuyomi, the Moon.

Susanoo, the Storm.

The story goes that Amaterasu and Susanoo had a competition about who could create better gods. So Amaterasu took Susanoo’s Totsuka-no-Tsurugi* (longsword) and split it into three, from which she birthed the three Munakata goddesses.

And woncha knowit, there are three great actresses born in that year?

*A reminder that Kana plays the character Tsurugi, which literally just means Sword. And Akane’s character Saya-hime just literally means Sheath or Scabbard Princess.

In this bet, Amaterasu got clever with the rules and won on a technicality. Susanoo went on a rampage, destroyed Amaterasu’s ricefield, and flayed Amaterasu’s favorite divine horse*, and then threw its body at her loom.

*The name Arima is spelled with the Kanji of Horse & Exist/Live. 

Amaterasu, in her grief, flees into a cave, believed to be Amano Iwato cave, right in the town of Takachiho, Amamiya Gorou’s hometown, and the death place of  Tendouji Sarina.

The being that draws Amaterasu out of there was the Goddess of the Dawn, known also as the Goddess of the Revelry & Arts, a being that Aqua says he knows well, and believes there’s a grain of truth to:

And how does Ame-no-Uzume draw Amaterasu out of her grief?

By throwing an absolute rager, and dancing really wildly that it catches her attention and makes all the gods around them laugh so hard. Just like:

Ame-no-Uzume will later on marry a diety who tried to block her passage before, Sarutohiko, who in Ise is worshipped as the god who illuminates the world.

That’s some divinity-level AquaKana shipping right there.

Just like how Aka Akasaka wrote the story of Kaguya-sama: Love Is War about two lovers who couldn’t be together just like in the myth of Kaguya, but having his characters overcome all odds to defy divine fate, I do believe that apart from the parallels to the mythology like he did in Kaguya-sama, there is very literal divine intervention this time in Oshi No Ko.

I think what’s happening is that the gods, particularly Amaterasu and Susanoo are quarelling again about who could create better gods, just like before, but now more of whose favored child will shine the brightest and be worshipped by the most humans. But just like last time, Susanoo may have been enraged, especially at the sexual assault of his chosen Hikaru Kamiki, that he possessed him with a corrupting force that urges him to destroy shining stars before they reach their peak, hence the murders of Himekawa Airi, Hoshino Ai**, and Katayose Yura.

Which by the way, the name Hikaru means Radiant Light!

And Hoshino means Field of Stars!

Whether it’s because Amaterasu is angry that every daughter she sends to earth is slaughtered by Susanoo’s chosen, or just because she wants to win their competition, she appoints Ame-no-Uzume to assist in safeguarding her new favored one from Kamiki’s clutches. Her new favored one being Arima Kana.

And therefore, Ame-no-Uzume takes the souls of two motherless humans who had passed before they could shine and sent them to become Hoshino Ai’s twin children. It was all anyway happening in her territory of Takachiho at the most opportune time.

Ame-no-Uzume is also known as The Goddess of Dance, as well as The Great Pursuader. And wouldn’t you know, that’s exactly the gifts that the Hoshino Twins received.

An energetic performer who takes the stage with dance:

And a deceptive, persuasive, extremely believable actor, who:

fooled his own sister into believing she had been rejected from an audition

pretended to scout an idol from a competing agency to research them

get Director Gotanda to raise him and train him

make Akane not just date him, but follow him down a destructive path

convince Kana and Mem to join IchigoPro

impersonate Pieyon for several days straight

Anyway, I truly, truly believe that unbeknownst to Aqua, his true mission is just to keep drawing Kana out of her darkness until she shines the brightest. Which is what he keeps doing anyway:

2. The Timing of the whole Oshi No Ko plot is aligned with Arima Kana’s rise to unprecedented stardom.

The story of Ai Hoshino’s pregnancy and meeting of Gorou Amamiya in a quaint hospital occurs at the beginning of Arima Kana’s life, just after she is born.

She meets Aqua Hoshino around age 4, already talented, and already extremely arrogant which could have easily been the demise of her career. But meeting Aqua and seeing his acting was a necessary wake-up call for her, that it brings her to tears. She never forgets this experience that she brought that lesson with her to her adulthood: that she can’t be satisfied and keep working harder, and to be a better communicator with her colleagues. At their first point of contact, Aqua already becomes the reason why Arima Kana’s acting career survives the slump.

They meet again in high school, when Arima Kana has one acting job in a lackluster production of Sweet Today. The ratings had plummeted, if not for the fact that Aqua came onto the set to draw out the best acting Arima Kana could deliver. After this, Arima receives much more respect and recognition from her colleagues in the industry beyond just being cast to bring some legitimacy to their production.

It’s because of Aqua and Ruby that Kana joins IchigoPro’s Idol Division, and her career is reborn anew. Such that, even after quitting B-Komachi, Arima states she never regretted the decision to join, because otherwise the career of Arima Kana would have been already over. 

It’s because of Aqua’s presence that Arima trains to become better and better as an idol. Aqua kept drawing out the light from Kana’s eyes, to the point that it catches the attention of the crowd who previously had no interest in her.

It’s because of her experience as an idol that she regains the confidence and sense of greed necessary to grab the attention of the audience when on stage, such that even Akane recognizes this change in her when Arima takes the stage as Tsurugi for the 2.5 Adadptation of Tokyo Blade.

And it’s because of all of these that she captures the attention of award-winning Director Masanori Shima, who lines up some roles for her when her acting schedule had dried up. It’s once again because of Kana’s dedication towards Aqua that Shima D finds her so interesting that he was most willing to promise her the best role possible.

It was as if Ame-no-Uzume-no-Mikoto appointed Aqua and Ruby to come draw Arima Kana out of her Cave, and bring the Sun out again, just like how the deity drew out Amaterasu.

If you think about the title of the show, Oshi No Ko, it literally means The Favorite Child. God’s favored child. Arima Kana had been born chosen by Amaterasu from the very beginning. And Ame-no-Uzume is sending Aqua and Ruby to aid on this quest.

Which explains why it seems like there had been a mission communicated to Aqua from the very beginning. And why Ai was never going to be reincarnated at all.

You would think that if The Crow Girl, which we assume is the divine guide Yatagarasu, was communicating with Aqua about his revenge plan or helping him find Kamiki, that Aqua would hold a more favorable relationship with The Crow whenever it appears to give advice, no?

But it’s exactly the opposite. Because The Crow is guiding him into something that is different from his personal goal that Aqua doesn’t understand.

And this is where I think Arima Kana could be put in danger.

3. Arima Kana is Hikaru Kamiki’s next target.

There were earlier theories that thought Kurokawa Akane was the one to die next, because of what people have now learned of Kamiki’s serial murderer profile targeting big celebrities before their peak, and because Akane had received a bouquet of white roses from him when she won an award.

The chapter when it was expected to happen was a fake-out from Aka Akasaka, and some people think it’s still possible that she’s the target. In fact, I keep seeing recent theory videos who discount Kana and say she’s “the safest”. Hah! If only!

The scenes with Shima D weren’t just a mere plot point to bring scandal to Arima’s name, and threaten her career and life enough that it pushes Aqua to reveal his mother’s secret in exchange. But it’s there because this is the upward path for Arima Kana. So far, the only people who have witnessed her dazzling star power have been fans of the Sweet Today manga, idol otakus, and people who attended Tokyo Blade. That’s not really masterpiece-of-the-century, performing-at-the-dome level. None of these gigs have placed her center stage in what could be Film of the Year, and a Best Actress spot. Now, the chance is here, and it’s real:

I think, The 15-Year-Lie will attempt to draw out Hikaru Kamiki, or that Aqua intends to reveal himself in the movie looking like him, and reveal the identity of his father.

But I also think what would happen is that they would be unsuccessful at taking him down completely. Instead, from the movie, he would be interested in Arima Kana, and target her through the course of her Shima D movie, and plan to kill her before an important awards night.

Alternatively, now that Kana is changing her focus to film, she may consider moving agencies, and ask Frill Shiranui about her agent. And if we’re right, she is likely represented by Kamiki Productions.

Either way, Kamiki will pay attention to her and try to kill her just before she reaches her highest.

But I don’t think Arima Kana will die. I think instead of being saved by Aqua, it’ll be Kana who takes Kamiki down. Echoing back to her getting mad at Aqua for thinking that avoiding her was protecting her, and Aqua believing that Kana doesn’t need help since she’s strong enough to take care of herself.

And then maybe, it’s Arima Kana who draws Aqua out of the darkness too.

And, just like with Kaguya and Shirogane Miyuki, Aka Akasaka is once again writing a story about two people who will defy a fate of divine tragedy, and come out of it being more truthful with each other than they’ve been with themselves all along.

[myhornysaga]

You mentioned cheating as one of the tags in your fics with Graves, would Graves cheat on his wife? Let’s say if he were to be deployed for awhile and a really sexy woman were to throw herself onto him, what do you think he’d do?

𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐚𝐫 𝐂𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝

Tags: SMUT, MDNI, cheating, established relationship, angst, graves x lawyer wife reader

Part 3

As much as i WANT to believe he's faithful to his wife y/n, he is definitely NOT faithful.

What people don't understand is normally and in real life, the High Stress Environment/Special operators have a really high sex drive. No im not making shit up. I have done research.

Literally a monkey brain of fight, get job done, fuck, sleep and repeat. Also they have tendancy to be addicted to alcohol.

So my hc...

He would never in his wildest dreams would ever imagine himself being intimately physical with anyone but you.

Graves has only one heart and he knows you are the owner.

The only person who sees him in his most vulnerable state when he's not out there leading dangerous mission dodging bullets, it is you.

You are the warmth, the sunshine that melts down his cold heart.

You do so much for him. You quit your outstanding career as a Lawyer just so you could have his children and raise them. You did that, for him.

The fact that you personally want to lead his PMC's Legal team and be the Director of the Comapny despite him telling you repeatedly that putting your name out there with the Shadow Company would put a risk to your life and reputation.... just so you can make sure that the company has a figurehead, other than your husband, to be spat at by the public.

You just wanted to divert attention from your husband and allow him to work freely and do the manual work while you can handle all the managerial work. You knew he wouldn't be able to do both himself.

Graves also knows he would never be able to have all the brilliant minds at one place in his Legal team to represent The Shadow Company if it wasn't for you and your connections with the top and the best in the industry.

Graves recognizes that, your selflessness for him. And that is why he loves you. Heck! The word love is an understatement to describe his... his feelings... feelings that are very primal.

He just wants to be with you, hold you, protect you, take care you.

And thus, even if he... meh... maybe slips a little, maybe seek company for a night or so, that would never count to anything because he is thinking about.

The only reason he would even look for company is because you are not with him on those lonely nights to make love with him and let him put out all his frustration and stress in you.

Due to his contracts, he has to travel a lot all around the globe and has to command his team for months on end.

All that ground zero action takes a toll on him. On his libido.

He just wants to let IT out. So he sometimes himself engages on the battlefield to get that thrill, the boost of testosterone and adrenaline, or at times usually in non conflict areas hires an escort to his hotel room.

Usually a young woman in her early 20s, who surprisngly has few prominent features that resembles yours like the same hair color as you or your eye color, your body shape and so on. Hmmm I wonder why...

Graves becomes almost a totally different man with her.

He welcomes her to his suite like a gentleman of course. Tries to make her comfortable with drinks and food. Oh that smooth southern style and hospitality never fails to win hearts.

After the formalities, it doesn't takes him long to reveal his true self, a self he hasn't even shown you. His darker side...

He tears apart the slutty red dress off of the girl's body and throws her on his large king sized bed.

Grabs fistful of the poor girl's hair and forces her to suck on his cock till he comes inside her mouth.

He fucks the girl with an animalistic rage. Thrusting his cock inside her almost balls deep mumbling all sorts of profanities, his eyes closed shut in between to see a mental picture of you, how you are spread across the marital bed back home.

He has been rough with you yes, but the sheer intensity of how rough he is with the escorts is brutal. They won't be walking for days.

He pulls her hair, slaps her, chokes her.... things he has never done with you.

He prefers doing them from behind that way he cannot see their faces. All he thinks of is you, his lovely wife.

Graves maybe sleeping with women other than you but he always makes sure to have his boundaries set.

He never kisses his whores, he just.... cannot (?) He tried once, but he just felt so sour after that. Its as if he is... cheating on you...? Its uncomfortable for him to kiss anyone other than you.

After he's done for the night and his date for the night is asleep, he gets up and goes into the bathroom.

He pulls out his gold wedding band from the tiny box he keeps it in. Staring at it for a moment then he gets the realization of his actions.

He slept with someone who isn't you. It breaks his hearts.

He always avoids wearing his wedding band when he's working and puts it back on when he is back home with you in his big arms.

He always leaves a tip for the women before leaving.

After completing his rigorous contracts, he is home all finally and all Graves does is....

Kiss you, make love to you, cum inside you, mark you, subconsciously convincing himself that you are his and his only.

He keeps mumbling how much he loves you and how much you mean to him.

You never understand where he's coming from but you assume he must've seen a lot deaths on battlefield thus this endless confession of his love to you.

--------------------------------------------------

Series masterlist , M.list

[hotpinkstars]

Can you do a Hu Tao, Shenhe, Ganyu, Raiden and Amber with a werewolf reader?(or any characters you want)

-> werewolf

synopsis -> you're a werewolf. how will your significant others move on with their day-to-day life with you?

warnings -> brief mentions of blood, mostly just fluff. raidens is alot shorter than the others for some reason, i can re-write if needed!!

a/n -> hii! sorry if this isn't the greatest.... i don't know about too many werewolf abilities and what not but i looked it up and tada here we have this!!! anyways thanks for the request!!

w/c -> 2.1k

-> hu tao

hu tao is fascinated, to say the least.

she always knew there was something different about you. she’s the 77th director of the wangsheng funeral parlor, after all. she works with corpses and walks around an unsettling forest in liyue, so of course she will be able to understand.

you hadn’t told her at first- she kind of just found out. you both happened to be in the same place at the same time, that place being wuwang hill. it was dark outside, nearing midnight, and hu tao needed to check on a grave that was reported to have the wood rotting on the tombstone.

when she saw a werewolf, she didn’t try to run. she had a vision, she could fight it off if need be, but she was more curious than anything. she stopped all movements and looked at the creatures every move, before you transformed back to your human form.

hu tao laughed under her breath before continuing to treat the wood and making sure the burial sight was good enough to wait for her to fix it up more tomorrow. the whole walk back home, she thought of ways she’d approach you on the subject. so, as soon as she walked through the doors,

“what you did tonight was pretty cool!” hu tao wrapped her arms around your neck, breathing in your scent from your hair. “i wanna see more!!”

you froze. “what exactly did you see…”

“you’re a werewolf. you look so fluffy in that form! did you not see me tending to a tombstone not too far away from you?” she chuckled before continuing. “i was watching your every move. it’s not incredibly common to see a wolf running through that place.”

you sighed, and then nodded. “i was going to tell you sooner, but i didn’t necessarily know how,” you put a hand up to your forehead. “you’re not scared of me though, right?”

“me? scared of you?” she jolted up before hopping over the back of the couch. “no way!”

you exhaled, relieved. you were happy that she seemed more interested than freaked out.

as time went on, she came to discover your personal abilities. you can change through forms whenever you please, your senses are heightened (comes to explain how you can see so well in the dark and hear even the faintest of things) you’re an incredibly fast runner, and you can shapeshift! she’s asked you to demonstrate your powers on so many occasions, asking you questions, and taking this advantage to cuddle with your werewolf form! you’d sit on the ground while she cuddled your head, usually setting it down on her chest before running her hands through your soft hair.

she was fortunate to have you around, considering you could always sense her injuries and you could smell blood from a mile away. you were always able to alert her if there were dangerous enemies (or just danger in general) around her due to your sense of hearing. you probably saved her life over a dozen times.

she always loves to take advantage of your werewolf form for cuddling. if its really cold outside, she wants to hug your furry self, you’re like a golden retriever in a sense. super gentle, never bearing your claws or fangs her way. sometimes you wonder if she loves your alternate form more than your human form.

she doesn’t really tell anyone about your form unless you tell her its alright. if you do, expect xiao, ganyu, zhongli, and probably all of the important people of liyue to know your not-so-secret secret.

-> shenhe

she probably already knew, to be honest.

she picked up on how well your senses work and your agility. she also noticed how sometimes you’d sneak in and out of bed for a few hours at a time in the middle of the night, and always end up showering at the most inconvenient times.

so, she just asked you about it straight up.

“are you human?” she asked over a rather silent breakfast, due to you being extremely fatigued from being out all night last night.

“what do you mean?” you damn near drop your fork on your plate, your eggs being untouched.

“are you human,” she asked once more, clearing her throat. “you’re not a werewolf or a husky or what not? you sure seem like you are, due to your advanced abilities.”

you lowered your head, nodding slowly, before attempting to apologize on why you said nothing sooner. she stopped you mid-sentence, reassuring you that it’s okay, and she understands why you didn’t tell her until later on.

she likes to accompany you during your midnight trips. it doesn’t scare her or anything, which you found rather surprising at first, but she just said that living with the birds and the beasts all her life has taught her that having an animal form is normal and the woods are no scarier than cloud retainer calling out to her people at the tip-top of a mountain.

she was also another one who appreciated how well your senses worked, and appreciated that you could locate danger approaching from rather far away. it gave her more time to prepare a brutal attack, and she even practiced sneak attacks due to your ability. theres another skill she mastered.

she likes you better when you’re in human form. don’t misunderstand, she loves you either way, but she’d rather cuddle and snuggle with someone that was human, and strictly because she did not want a mouthful of fur. you laughed when she first said that, and you got where she was coming from. if you were her, you wouldn’t necessarily appreciate that very much either.

but when you do transform in front of her, she won't mind giving you small hugs or rubbing your fur. she knows you’re not dirty and you have no fleas or ticks, so she doesn’t really mind running her hands through your beautiful gray fur. she wont be like hu tao, who's all over you, but she’ll certainly be interested.

she likes that you’re not very phased by blood. in her whole adeptal life, she's been exposed to ruthless bloodshed, and creates it herself sometimes. she knows of so many people who would throw up even at the mere mention of blood, but you can look at it and just shrug. it makes it much easier to bring you on missions, thats for sure.

ps: cloud retainer loves you and your abilities! she may or may not have teased shenhe a couple times of stealing you for the adepti benefit…

-> ganyu

she was incredibly freaked out at first.

she’s never really seen a werewolf, maybe only a handful of times in her 2500 years of life. they’re rarely in liyue and she’s never out late enough at night to witness one.

but tonight was a little different, she had something to do in the mountains rather late at night, and saw a werewolf trotting right up to her. you didn’t remember at first that you hadn’t told her of your abilities yet, and you also didn’t understand that seeing a werewolf just walk up to you is really freaky.

so, as any sensible person would do, she ran. and when i say ran, she RAN.

you stood there, dumbfounded, wondering where all that speed was in the amount of time that you knew her. she was either half asleep or preoccupied with something else all the time, so you never really had the opportunity to see her run at full speed.

you chased after her, but waited until she couldn’t really see you, as not to scare her. as soon as you saw the harbor come close to view, you quickly morphed back, catching up to your girlfriend in your human form, tapping her on the shoulder a couple times before she spun back so fast she nearly fell into the water. you were by the railing in the middle of the bridge, listening to ganyu tell her story while catching her breath.

“did you see that werewolf? it walked up to me, and i ran as fast as i possibly could to get out of there, because i forgot i had a vision and that i could easily defeat it and-”

you zoned out in the middle of her story, thanking every archon to exist that she forgot about her bow and her vision.

you settled her down soon after, explaining to her that the wolf was actually you. you had demonstrated your transformation and rubbed against her leg, showing her that you were harmless.

she giggled before petting you and letting you know that she knew you were not harmless.

she found your abilities quite cool! she was another one who loved to cuddle you while in your wolf form. you just let her, you were her fluffy guard dog that she’d hug and cuddle to sleep. but she loved your human form just as much.

your heightened senses saved her from many heart attacks, and allowed her to sleep in the grass under the shade of a tree without an issue.

it also helps her know when enemies are nearby. when she’s with you, she feels indescribably safe, and she knows she can count on you to alert her of any oncoming danger.

she also loves how you’re able to see some things that might be a little hard for her to see. as an adeptus, she’s nearly fearless, but can be caught off guard. sometimes, she gets a little queasy when she sees some nasty shit in a danger zone.

-> raiden

she is unphased and honestly treats you no different from before.

she once caught you transforming, and when you noticed her, you immediately changed back and started to ask her what she thought, how much she saw, etc in a panicked tone.

she just shrugged, told you it was alright and that it was cool that you were part wolf, and went back to doing whatever she was doing before.

she might want to see it again though, but doesn’t mind if you don’t want to show her. she gets it, she really wouldn’t want you to see her in her plane of euthymia. it’s a personal thing, and she doesn’t want to cross boundaries.

sometimes, she’ll indirectly ask you for cuddles in your werewolf form. you always pick up on the hint and transform to let her hug you or pet you or give you shy kisses in your form.

she dislikes sleeping with you while in wolf form, and always wants you to be your human self. she likes being able to feel you hold her, and she doesn’t want a mouthful of fur in the morning.

she doesn’t really have a reason to utilize your enhanced senses, but she thinks they’re cool anyways. she also appreciates that you’re able to take care of yourself and you don’t need someone to back you up all the time.

shes also really happy that you’re able to escape situations before they’ve even started (for example, a treasure hoarder swarm). it saves her the worrying and it saves you from the injuries, which are never fun to have. they almost always get infected, treasure hoarders don’t carry clean blades, etc.

-> amber

poor girl almost passed out the first time she found out you were a wolf.

she saw you trotting along before seeing you change back into human form, and she screamed. she ran up to you, standing in front of you, demanding an answer.

“amber, listen, i didn’t tell you because i knew this was gonna happen. don’t get scared, i’m obviously not going to hurt you,” you started, being cut off by the brown-haired girl.

“i know, it just startled me a little bit. but i’ll get used to it!!! maybe once the realization settles in, you can show me all your abilities,” she clapped twice, giving you a big hug. “i’m sorry for screaming. it just caught me off guard.”

you nodded, letting go of the hug and walking into mondstadt together.

she loves your wolf form! sometimes she’ll even take you on walks on the outskirts of the city (don’t get her wrong!! she just wants to have the dog experience i guess) and then having you transfer into human form to have a little picnic date under a shhhady tree.

she’s very grateful for your heightened senses. you’ve probably saved her from death once, and all of the injuries you’ve saved her from is probably not even countable on both hands. to say she's very appreciative of you and your presence is an understatement.

depending on her mood, she’ll sometimes want to cuddle your wolf form, and sometimes she just wants your good old human form. she loves both equally!!!

she’s glad that you’re able to protect yourself, too. she couldn’t imagine a life without you, she loves you too much! she’s not obsessed over you, but she’s sometimes rather… overprotective. tell her you’re going to be okay and make sure she knows and she’ll settle down.

[livuyang]

snowfall director has now closed his account because he is facing criticism from novel and drama fans. fans were dissatisfied with the ending so he released an alternative ending for characters but this made them more mad. they said if he didn't put in the drama, there was no need to read it. they are also saying why they changed a rapist character and gave him a redemption arc, the director also cut a lot of situ and milan scenes (not due to censorship), he was the one who turned the female lead into a vampire they changed it, he changed also the ending in the novel, from it seems he gave extra scenes to ryan ren and cut from others characters. you can check it on weibo just searching chinese name of the drama. i will keep watch the drama but it's so sad seeing this.

the alternative end:

a few years later

△mi lan sat at the table and wrote a letter. the handwriting is beautiful but free and easy, quite in the style of shen zhiheng.

mi lan: (vo) mr. shen, i have also traveled all over the country, met many friends, and read many stories. i thought i would no longer remember the name shen zhiheng. however, everything i saw seemed to have your name written on it. i think this is the world you taught me.

△mi lan's room is piled with a lot of groceries, and the whole small room is like a grocery store. almost all the items that used to be in shen's mansion are preserved and placed in various positions within reach. there is also a piano in the sun.

mi lan: (vo) you once told me that you wanted to see when the prosperous era would come. i especially want to tell you about my experiences over the years. i have seen wars, sufferings, and the difficulties when it was first built, but i have also seen that this country is getting better and better. you… should be very happy, right?

△mi lan was walking on the street and happened to be standing at the door of a concert hall. there is a poster hanging outside the concert hall, which reads: the most mysterious pianist lan tianjin-hong kong concert.

△mi lan looked at the full moon on the poster and was lost in thought.

mi lan: (os) mr. shen, study hard and write, and see the world for you… you used newspapers back then, and now i use music. i am learning the path you have taken, moving forward step by step. i am so lonely, so lonely, i seem to have finally become you, so where are you?

mi lan: (laughing and whispering) i have waited for you year after year. waiting for the first spring rain every year. so today, i miss you especially.

△as soon as the words fell, mi lan seemed to feel a familiar breath, but when she turned around, she saw nothing.

2,

△situ weilian walked slowly through the cemetery, and then stood in front of one of the graves.

△situ weilian was holding a bunch of tuberose flowers. situ weilian slowly bent down and placed the bouquet in front of the tombstone.

△the tombstone reads: tomb of mother jin jingxue

△situ weilian stood in front of the tomb, looking at these three words.

△at this time, a descendant (female) of the jin family came to visit the tomb, and for the first time saw a young boy standing in front of jin jingxue's tomb. very curious.

descendant: hello, do you know grandma jingxue?

situ weilian: (chuckles) of course i know her. she is the most beautiful woman in tianjin.

descendant: (even more curious) i heard so too. my mother said that this grandma was the most fashionable person in tianjin. she never got married and lived a very chic life. it seems that your family has also received her kindness.

situ weilian: yes, you are right.

△situ weilian listened to this lively voice, and his expression gradually softened. the descendant placed the flowers.

△situ weilian slowly squatted down, looked at the name on the tombstone, and finally spoke in a low voice.

situ weilian: i'm sorry that i couldn't fulfill my promise to you. you must have left very disappointed.

△in front of the tombstone, only the flowers were shaking gently.

3.

△ sister zhang came out of the concert hall and grabbed mi lan.

sister zhang: the concert is about to start, where are you going?

△ mi lan couldn't help but take a few steps back, stretched out her hand to feel the falling rain, and smiled.

mi lan: sister zhang, i won't play in the concert hall today. i want to go to another place.

△ mi lan suddenly turned around and trotted.

4.

△ mi lan ran to a square, where there was an old piano, which was placed in the corner for tourists to use when the square was attracting customers.

△ mi lan suddenly walked over, sat down and started playing the piano.

△ the first song she played was the first song she learned when she was in the choir.

△ the spring rain gradually fell in the sound of the piano.

△ the crowd that had gathered to listen to the piano began to slowly disperse, until the whole square was filled with only the rustling sound of rain and the piano sound like a heaven and earth music.

△ in the rain, a man holding an umbrella slowly appeared on the square. the whole world seemed to have only one listener, but only this one listener.

△the sound of the piano gradually became softer.

△mi lan looked up at the man standing beside her, who stretched out his hand to shield her from the rain. it was shen zhiheng, whom she had not seen for a long, long time.

△mi lan stood up in disbelief, and slowly turned to look at shen zhiheng.

mi lan: you are… mr. shen.

△shen zhiheng held a pot of bright red camellia in his hand. he just looked at the much more mature mi lan tenderly. then he answered softly.

shen zhiheng: yes, i am. i'm back.

shen zhiheng: (os) mi lan, i crossed mountains and seas just to accompany you to listen to this spring rain.

△the rain hit the piano keys, as if it had become a melody again.

△the sky and the earth are getting farther away, just like the rising sun.

△the spring rain is falling down.

△the budding red camellia finally bloomed. the rain fell on the flowers, on the leaves, and in every corner of this world.

[jasontoddspussy]

in louder than bombs you say jason had a gren burial why do you say that

Holo there::)

i don't recall mentioning that in LTB, but maybe? I think I mentioned it in "big bad wolf" though. Or multiple times. I like making Jay think abt his death a lot♡

It's an interpretation, and I interpret it as such because Jason was able to dig his way out of his grave. See, in the US, most people are buried within a concrete vault, as in their casket is. This concrete vault serves two purposes; To up the cost of the funeral and to make it easier for lawnkeepers to mow the grass.

A green burial, and what that entails, depends on the state since this is the US, but is usually a means of burial where no harsh chemicals are used. Some places a green burial is donation to a body-research facility (also called a body farm, but like. They're not /growing/ bodies, so I wouldn't call it a farm), where you're typically placed in a shallow grave with different types of settings to research what soil, insects, outside temps, ect, would do to your body for forensic research.

In others, it's a shallow grave dug by a worker, where the body is placed directly in the hole. Most times the body is packed in a shroud that the family brought, or that the mortuary workers made. The body is buried with rocks to, supposedly, deter wild animals from foraging but no research has been made to prove if this is an actual thing or not happening to green burials.

Green burials could also be something like composting your body, where it's turned to soil. There's many different ways, really.

Now, I hear you say, but you draw/depict Jason with an autopsy scar?

And you'd be right. However, Autopsy does not = Embalming.

For the uninitiated, embalming is a preservation procedure typically done in the US, where strong chemicals are flushed through the body’s circulatory system and massaged into surrounding tissue to stop proteins from breaking down, and halt decomposition.

I could get into why this is done, but I'll spare ya.

Typically, your organs will be removed and sometimes replaced with stuffings such as lavender or other organic materials by the medical examineer who's doing the procedure. The purpose of an Autopsy, is to find out what the COD (cause of death) is. The COD and MOD (Manner of death) are separate - say you hit your head and died from that, the manner of death would detail what happened in one of the available categories (Medical error, Homicide, Suicide, Accident, Natural), and the COD would be listed as something like "Sub-arachnoid hematoma".

Jason, I imagine, would have had an Autopsy, but not an embalming. Of course, some places in the US demand cadavers be embalmed, but not all.

The reason I personally think this, is because Jason had sustained severe injuries. He died from smoke inhalation, but he would've had several open fractures and burns as well. If Bruce wanted to do a showing/embalming, he'd need a reconstructive specialist. I doubt Bruce wanted something like that.

Another thing about the embalment, is that the medical examineer isn't the one who embalms. I assume the ME who did Jason's autopsy must've been someone who knew he was Robin, or someone Bruce paid heavy hush-money to forge the death certificate. I say this, because en Autopsy is /incredibly detailed/

Everything is noted down. The amount of freckles. Scarring. Birth marks. Anything on his person. Teeth. Ect Ect. Robin Jason would’ve had a lot of scars, and the ME would notice them to be too fresh to be from the streets, if they knew about that, and that'd create questions that Bruce wouldn't be able to answer.

The embalmer would see something similar, and also read the death certificate to make sure it is the right body. Furthermore, Bruce is jewish, and in jewish funeral practice the body must be prepared and buried as quickly as possible, within 24 hours if possible, and no embalming. Sadly, in the US, funeral directors are required by law to offer and/or practice embalming, so a lot of muslim and jewish funeral homes have to choose between being able to offer death-care for their cultures, while going against their beliefs.

Anyways, I'll end this little rant now lol

[a-shoebox-named-meap]

aight. have some nimona canon divergence AU fic ideas because i’m no writer but i AM going insane

as a huge fan of canon divergence AUs where One Small Decision Changes Everything™ i can’t stop thinking about little bits and pieces from the nimona movie like:

what if the squire had shown ambrosius the video (ohh a fic like this would be Delicious) (mm ambrosius x squire tag team) (ballister’s two biggest fans) (this might be one of my favorite ideas so far) (lots of potential here i feel like)

now there have been a lot of people asking “let’s feel some ANGST what if real ambrosius had walked into the director’s office before nimona” but i will take that and raise you: what if ambrosius had walked in while nimona was doing her thing in the director’s office. perhaps around the time when the director stabbed fake!ambrosius. please consider. may the chaos ensue

ballister had noticed his sword-laser-cannon powering up and moved it away from the queen but it hit something else! or someOne else! (or it killed the queen anyway but still hit somebody else in the process) (oh gods what if it took off his own arm) (or even ambrosius’s—) (can you imagine the kinda twist that would occur if he took off ambrosius’s arm by accident and ballister not resting until he found out who the real culprit is skdjdjdjdjddj) (oh but wait let me make this WORSE what if he hit ambrosius instead of the queen ((don’t worry ambrosius is wearing armor, he doesn’t die he’s just,,, gravely injured?)) and ballister, even if he still gets framed for it, will stop at nothing to find out who did this to ambrosius) (now incorporate nimona into that storyline and hoohoohoo) (i’m rubbing my hands together like a maniacal fruit fly right now)

what if they had uploaded the squire’s video when they got it huh. what then. back it up to the cloud. or just TEXT it to ambrosius you Fool. you absolute Buffoon. (but perhaps this seemingly obvious course of action results in some unexpectedly dire consequences oh no—)

“ooh… nemesis.” “nemesis?” at which point nimona and ballister get stuck in the closet, nimona reveals her shapeshifting abilities, and oh, screw it, if ballister’s situation with his arm-chopping nemesis is really so cOmPLiCAteD then maybe since they’re breaking out of jail anyway they might as well kidnap ambrosius while they’re at it. aka the au where nimona breaks ballister out of jail and she takes ambrosius with them. (i am FEASTING on the possibilities of this one)

let’s take todd’s suspicion and blame directed towards ambrosius (“why didn’t you tell us ballister was working with whales?”) and dial that up to 100. slowly, though, not too fast, it’s gotta build momentum. let’s breed some mistrust in ambrosius. let’s see people refusing to let ambrosius lead the manhunt for ballister on account of their close relationship. let’s see people turn their backs on him thinking he was a conspirator. let’s see ambrosius losing the public’s favor. let’s see ambrosius starting to feel some doubt when he’s alone in his room — let’s see ambrosius wondering what if people are actually as wrong about ballister as he knows they are about ambrosius himself. (what if everybody hates ambrosius too—)

this one is not nearly as straightforward a canon divergence but ponder this: the director noticed the squire was there in the locker room (?) that day and swapped out the swords after the squire had left. or maybe she swapped it out before the squire was ever there. the squire never knew the director had been there. there was no video evidence. now what? up to you >:)

ok hear me out. the squire is a #1 ballister fan right. the squire is probably very careful with the swords and armor he handles. the squire is probably intimately familiar with the swords and other various weaponry and armaments of the institution. the squire is probably very familiar with ballister’s in particular. when ballister first picked up his swapped-out sword he noticed something was off about it, but what if — WHAT IF — the squire had noticed something was off about it first. now of course there’s Possibility #1 where he sees the director swap the sword, and then he checks out the sword and feels that something is wrong with it etc etc (or maybe he mistakes the sword change for an equipment upgrade) BUT now let’s combine this with the previous bullet point for Possibility #2 where the squire DIDN’T see the director swap the sword but he DID notice something was off about the sword before ballister did and actually investigated it. would he discover the hidden weapon, or not? if he did would he bring it to ballister’s attention? ambrosius’s? the director’s? what if he caught the hidden weapon but didn’t mention it and then the queen died and the squire was left fully believing ballister killed the queen (ballister knows mechanics, you’ve seen his arm, it’s plausible he built the weapon into his sword himself) and then ballister and nimona kidnapped him and interrogated him and ballister and the squire were left spiderman meme-ing each other like *points* “i thought YOU were behind all this!” and now the squire is an unwilling sidekick dragged into this by nimona and ballister to figure out who the real culprit is and there’s ACTION and ADVENTURE and COMEDY and it’s absolutely metal—

the squire really feels like a lynchpin in this story is all i’m sayin

if you can’t tell i’m also a fan of happy endings. in my brain most of these canon divergences result in a similar happy ending as the movie. except maybe faster (not always). which i enjoy because i’m sappy and silly anyway thank you and goodnight

[heavensmortuary]

not sure if I'm going to be able to put it into words well but I think part of the appeal of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre is how the movie deals with nature in an almost mystic fashion. I was talking eariler with friends about how Blood Meridian has this feeling also, with McCarthy's clear love of desert settings and how all of the animals seem like wise, wide eyed observers to the force of nature that the human characters are, backdropped against the blue lightning of the desert, more like demons than people. They're a part of the landscape, and cant be separated from it. I feel like The Texas Chainsaw Massacre handles nature in a similar way.

The wide shots of sunflower fields and trees strung with rusted metal, or old houses with spiders that hum and crackle with warning, or the dead armadillo on the road, or the sunspots melting together like clotting blood, or the second-too-long shot of cows in the slaughterhouse with foam dribbling out of their mouths, but TCM finds it's strength in its scenery and I think it's there for a purpose. It captures rotting americana in a way that a lot of urban-based directors have tried to replicate but have failed (Resident Evil 7, a game that despite it's loving homages to southern horror, comes to mind). They try too hard, painting hillbillies with a classist brush. TCM doesn't do this. It's as Southern gothic as a broken Mardi Gras necklace in Louisiana or a forgotten kudzu-smothered grave in a holler of the Carolina Blue Ridge. Pull up a chair at the dinner table, show off that southern hospitality.

Of course there's the roadkill-occult fashion and decor of the family, with vertebrae necklaces and bracelets and endless heaps of feathers and bones and macabre sculptures laid out in ritualistic fashion around the Sawyer's house. The blood sigil in the van and the twisted corpses on top of the gravestone at the first part of the movie instill a feeling that there's more dangers than just the chainsaw or a straight razor. There's a feeling that something supernatural has soaked through the family somehow, even though nothing blatantly supernatural is featured in the movie besides Grandpa's vampiric traits and the constant discussion on astrology. If southern gothic is full of faith healing and granny witches and sweating preachers holding snakes, then TCM is about nature as the occult in the worst way.

The Sawyers are just as much a part of the wild Texas landscape as the dead armadillo on the side of the interstate. They don't seem like humans, more of dressed in the, quite literal, skin of humans. Pestilence, war, death, and famine are portrayed horsemen, and the Sawyers are of the same kind. Dressed the skins of the blissfully ignorant dead, they're spirits on the vengeful, suffering, and cruel american soil. 50 years later since the movie's release, they still won't leave the hidden places of rural america. They're concepts more than people, and it's damn effective.

[sonotpattismith]

lord knows it would be the first time | just say when (chapter six)

chapter five.

playlist | masterlist

song inspo for chapter: please please please let me get what I want by the smiths

chapter specific warnings: mentions of depression, hopelessness/worthlessness, suggestive content

warnings: this story contains explicit mentions of depression and suicide. if these are topic that are triggering for you, please refrain from reading. I will be putting a warning on the chapters that may be particularly triggering. please enjoy otherwise xo <3

The situation was looking grave. Well, they’d certainly seen worse in terms of mission prognoses, but the real problem, aside from the curse that had outsmarted Megumi and Nobara one too many times, was this thing was making him start to sweat about making it to Zumi on time that night. Of course, he knew they’d make it out alive, but fuck, this thing was wasting his time. He had known it would be cutting it short when he and Kugisaki were sent on a last minute mission just an hour outside of Tokyo, but he quickly assured Gojo, who offered to ask Nanami to come stay with Zumi that night instead, that they’d have everything taken care of in time. 

That was five hours and three curses ago though, and the duo was now staring down the final curse that had been haunting this chilling funeral home for the past few weeks. Multiple morticians and directors had been claiming that the corpses had been… whispering to them during their late hours. Little did they know, it wasn’t the corpses that had suddenly gained consciousness, but instead the curses that had manifested in the wake of the mourning family member’s of said corpses. 

The first couple had manifested together, being the weaker of the bunch. They weeped mockingly at the pair, likely imitating the loved ones that had created them. Megumi hadn’t even had the chance to summon any of his shikigami before Nobara sliced evenly through the trio of monsters. She landed on her knees with a thud, groaning softly at the impact. The boy, after confirming they had truly been finished off, sped over to help her up, to which she brushed him off with a claim that this was mere child’s play. 

And to that effect, she was right, because what came after definitely made up for the previous lack of challenge. It was located in the morgue. As soon as they’d kicked the door open, it grotesquely squeezed its way out of one of the freezers. Its face, what could be made out from it at least, was painted stark white, dramatic blush littered its supposed cheeks. It was mimicking the makeup a mortician would typically apply to a corpse to make it appear presentable for it’s funeral, but seeing it so unnaturally on the uncanny face of this curse was almost nauseating. 

Above all else, it reeked. The stench had gotten so putrid once its full form had exited the freezer that the pair had a hard time keeping their lunches down. 

 “God— I can barely concentrate with that smell!” Nobara shrieked as they caught their breaths, backs pressed against a wall and invisible to the curse. Truth be told, they were both exhausted already. The creature was relentless— the mocking cries of the previous curses was only amplified in this one. It rang in their ears, pulsating in their ear drums until they were forced to clamp their hands over them in an attempt to stop the ambush. 

Despite the upturned gravity of the situation, Megumi’s shaky hand slid his phone from his pocket to check the time, a drop of blood falling from the cut on his brow bone and splattering across his screen. 

“Shit.” He cursed as he slid his phone back into his pocket and stood up, squaring his shoulders. It was getting late, and he knew it would be a drive to get back to Tokyo as well. This needed to end now. He looked down at the red head who was already stumbling back up to her feet. Nodding toward her, he formulated a plan while keeping a careful eye on the curse that was inching closer and closer toward them. “Kugisaki, if I distract it while Demon Dog gets a piece of it, can you take care of it?”

By take care of it, she knew he meant her resonance. She nodded affirmatively, and he was already summoning his dog. Kneeling down to place a hand on his head, Megumi instructed it to tear a piece off for me, and he ran ahead of the animal who was growling viciously behind him at the grotesque curse. 

With the running start, he hopped on the sturdy, tall enough trash bin leaned against the wall before expertly flipping mid-air, landing a forceful kick against the curse’s oddly painted cheek. Of course, he didn’t expect the kick to do much other than distract it from the animal that was stealthily charging at it. So, it was expected when the thing grappled at his abdomen as if he was a mere rag doll and screeched its cursed wallow into his face. 

Between the aggressive tightening against his ribs, the stench that was now unbearable with such proximity, and the hot blood that began to drip slowly from his ears, Megumi felt as though all his senses were ablaze— violated. This was all part of the strategy though, so he couldn’t fight it off just yet. He’d allow the thing to keep its focus on him until Demon Dog retrieved what he was called for. Maybe it wasn’t the safest option he could have chosen to fight this thing, but Nobara’s resonance would certainly be the quickest way. That’s all he needed— to get out of here on time.

Through the undeniable pain ringing in his weeping ear drums, he thought he heard Nobara call out to him. The boy was too focused on not retching as bits of spit and what he presumed to be flesh hurled from the curse’s mouth and onto him. A growl sounded below him, and on cue, there was a grotesque squelching as Demon Dog tore off a chunk of— finger? Toe? Okay, an appendage off the thing. 

It dropped Megumi in an instant, the impact on the concrete floor pushing up the bile he had been holding in. Rolling over, he spilled the contents of his stomach at the creature’s now mangled feet. There was no time to waste gagging as his body was instinctually doing to rid itself of the rest of its waste. In one, quick and dizzying motion, he staggered up to his feet and retrieved the grimy body part from his dog’s awaiting mouth. With a quick hand to his now matted fur, he released the dog just before the curse could get its hands on him. 

“Kugisaki!” Megumi hollered, prompting the girl to slide out from her spot behind the wall, her hand already outstretched for the item the mangled boy was hurling her way. He wasn’t able to see if she caught it or not, because the peculiarly large hand that had been attempting to come down on his dog landed on him instead. The air whipped through his raven locks as his body was flung across the hall, and his back slammed forcefully against the unforgiving concrete wall. His head lolled to the side in a daze as he watched the curse bludgeon toward him once again. He had to move, he had to get up. The pain shooting through his ribs and back wouldn’t allow for any such movement though. 

Hazily, his hands came up to summon his rabbits— anything that would distract the damn thing until the air came back to his lungs and he could help Kugisaki. 

Please, he thought to himself— to any higher being that would listen— please just let me get out in time. For a moment, he thought about the unfairness of fate, how it had a way of ripping each moment of ease and tranquility from his grip mercilessly. He thought about how he’d never been selfish in his life, never asking for a thing that wasn’t for the betterment of someone else. God, please, just give me this one thing. His fingers trembled against one another. Let me make it to her, please. 

Before he could complete the motion, the red head’s piercing voice sliced through the moaning and squelching of the beast.

“Resonance!” 

The injured boy barely had enough time to shield his eyes from the pieces of flesh— if you could even call it that— that flew toward him, splattering the walls and floor around him. The pain in his abdomen radiated with each harsh rise and fall of his chest. The shrieking had ceased, and he allowed his hands to fall limply to his sides. 

“Is it gone?” Megumi called out hazily, slipping a bit as he rose up weakly to his feet. Kugisaki was hunched over with her hands on her knees, dry heaving due to the stench of the damned thing now spread across the entire hallway. 

“Jesus, it’s gonna take like twenty rinse and repeats to get that stench out of my hair.” She groaned indignantly before making her way over to the wavering boy. 

He could recall her telling him how busted up he appeared. Ijichi, who had been awaiting them outside the facility, anxiously called Shoko upon seeing the state of the boy stumbling out of the building. The ticking time on the car’s display taunted him as he stared at it with bleary eyes the entire drive back to the school. At one point, he even gritted out a demand for Ijichi to speed it up a little, but the supervisor assumed his pain was getting the best of him. 

Shoko was in the middle of placing a final stitch on the deep cut that had been made on his eyebrow. 

“Sit still, Fushiguro,” the healer muttered in frustration. His bouncing leg was making it increasingly difficult for her to do her job. She had already done what she could with the injury to his ribs, which were thankfully not fractured, but thoroughly bruised. “You’re almost done.”

As soon as her needle equipped fingers left his face, he was hopping off of the table to grab his discarded top. Urgent hands on his shoulder halted his movements. 

“Slow down!” Shoko scolded, softly dragging him back to place the small bandage over his fresh stitches. “You can’t run around like that so fast. They're not broken, but your ribs still need a chance to rest. And so do you. The painkillers haven’t kicked in yet either.”

“I have somewhere to be.” Megumi explained dryly, scowling irritably as she lifted his dirty shirt once again to inspect the bruising skin. The woman glanced knowingly up at him. She was the only other person, other than Nanami (who refused to partake in the gossip Gojo so desperately wanted to spill) that knew about Zumi. So, naturally, she had already received an earful from the man about the ‘blinding waves of young love’ that has been supposedly budding between the two. 

“I’m sure she’d prefer you in one piece as well.” She muttered under her breath before slipping the soiled, latex gloves from her hands. 

Now, Megumi knew his eardrums had taken more than a bit of a beating that night, but he was sure he heard exactly what she’d just uttered. His dark eyes shot up to her in shock, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze. How did Shoko know about Zumi as well? He thought it had just been him and Nanami. At least in the case of the blond sorcerer, there was a reason for his knowledge of the secret girl. Why did Shoko know? 

Pretending to busy herself with cleaning up the aftermath of his care, she quipped casually over her shoulder. 

“I thought you had somewhere to be, Fushiguro.”

The pain searing into his abdomen went ignored as Megumi raced to his dorm to scrub the remnants of the curse off of himself and change into clean clothes. He didn’t bother to dry his sopping hair before flying out the door. A soft groan slipped past his lips as he collapsed against the unforgiving seat of the train. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, and he wasn’t racing against the clock, the events of the night slammed him like a truck. Exhausted— he was exhausted, but he was almost there. 

Amidst his almost nap with his head leaned back against the hard seat, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He peaked one eye open to read the message before him. 

Gojo: hey kid, I’m gonna call Nanami to come. I heard you got your ass beat. Send pics! 🥳🥳🥳

His tired eyes widened at the message, and he quickly sat up to type up a quick, desperate response. 

         Megumi: I’m already on the way. 

         When he didn’t get a response, he sent another message. 

          Megumi: I’m five minutes away. I feel fine.

Maybe his ETA was a bit of an exaggeration, but he’d be damned if he had endured this hellish night for nothing. It ended up being twelve minutes later that Megumi finally made it to Gojo’s door, attempting to knock as firmly as he could on the door. 

“Woah,” The white haired man whistled as he glanced over the state of the boy before him. Though he was clearly trying to appear nonchalant, the slight hunch in his usually pristine posture, redness in his tired eyes, and rapid panting in his chest were all telltale signs that Megumi Fushiguro had seen better days. “Did it at least buy you dinner first?”

The boy huffed indignantly before pushing past his sensei. His eyes squinted shut as the impact of Gojo’s shoulder radiated down his chest and into his injured ribs. He fixed his face quickly, looking around the seemingly empty apartment. The door shut with a click behind him. 

“Did you see Shoko?” The blindfolded man questioned, though he already knew the answer. The woman had texted him about the boy’s state just twenty minutes prior. 

“Yeah. Like I said, I’m fine.” Megumi stated dryly as he turned back to look at Gojo. “Where’s Zumi?” The girl was usually waiting for him in the living room when he arrived, or at the very least she would bound out from her room upon hearing his arrival. 

The small smirk on Gojo’s face seemed to go unnoticed by the distracted boy. “She already fell asleep.” He informed. A very, very small part of him felt bad that his little prodigy rushed all the way over here in such a state, only to have not made it in time to see the object of his attraction. A much larger part of him though couldn’t have found the situation more amusing. He could swear he saw Megumi deflate just a hair. “Which you should probably be doing too. Take my bed if you want.” 

Fushiguro, dejected in every sense of the word, sighed with furrowed brows as he slumped down on the couch. He shook his head. 

“I’m fine.” He claimed for the third time that night. 

“Suit yourself.” Gojo shrugged, picking up his bag from beside the door. His covered eyes lingered on the shadow user for a tad longer than they normally would, as if assessing if he was really okay enough for him to leave. A small smile graced his lips. His pride would take him out before any injury could. “My room is open.” 

The reminder fell on deaf ears, because the boy was already slumped against the couch, his eyes drifting shut against his will. The soft click of the door stirred him. He looked around abruptly before settling against the plush cushions once again. His gaze drifted to Zumi’s bedroom door dejectedly. Would she wake up before Gojo got back? Would it be selfish of him to knock on her door, or inconspicuously knock something over out here so she’d wake up? He grumbled at his own selfish thoughts and instead opted to lay down across the heavenly soft sofa, a moan of relief slipping past his lips that he blamed on whatever medication Shoko had given him, he allowed himself to succumb to his exhaustion. 

It was dark outside when Zumi woke from her impromptu nap. The moonlight against her window settled across her room like a blanket, enveloping her in tranquility. The book, which she had been desperately rushing to finish before Megumi arrived, lay forgotten beside her with only a chapter or two remaining. With the recollection of her expected visitor, she sat up frantically in bed and scrambled for her phone. It was tangled within the sheets and fell to her carpeted floor with a soft thud at her frantic movements. Hopping down from the solace of her warm bed, she snatched the device up and checked the time. 

        2:38 AM

“What?” She muttered breathlessly, running a hand through her messy hair. With a haphazard glance in her mirror, she attempted to adjust the tank top across her frame so it didn’t appear so skimpy. After a minute of this, she opted to throw a crewneck on instead. Her fingers, which were still tingling with the remnants of sleep, rubbed aggressively at her tired, puffy eyes. 

Zumi grumbled a quiet fuck this before grabbing her discarded book (she was fully prepared to berate him for his depressing choice in literature again) and swinging the door of her room open, ignoring the onslaught of nerves that filled her at the thought of what was awaiting behind it. A soft sigh fell from her lips at the sight before her. 

The very boy she had been anticipating seeing all week had shown up after all, sprawled carelessly across the large sofa. Despite his clearly unconscious state, his brows were still set in their almost permanent furrow, as if perpetually displeased by the world. One arm hung loosely off the side of the couch, the other placed softly against his chest. The awkward position his neck was in was giving her a cramp just looking at it. Sparing one last glance at him, she placed the book silently against the arm of the couch before she retreated to her room to retrieve a pillow. 

Now as she stood, hovering over his comatose figure on the couch with a plush pillow clutched in her hands, she was unsure of her next move. If he woke up to her ministrations, would he be weirded out that she had placed her hands on him so casually in his sleep? Not wanting him to continue the remainder of his night sleep in such discomfort, she bit the bullet and kneeled down beside the couch. Her breath hitched as she carefully slid her finger under his head to angle it up and slide the pillow under. The soft, still damp locked of his raven hair felt like silk under the pads of her fingers, and she had to resist the urge to drag the digits down the nape of his neck. The pounding of her heart could be felt in her throat as she gently placed his head back down against the pillow. 

With bated breath, she watched as the furrow of his brow softened just a hair, and he sighed almost silently. A fond smile spread across her lips at the sight. Looking around the living room, she grabbed a fluffy, cream colored blanket from atop the ottoman and draped it across his sleeping form. As she assessed her handiwork, she noticed the new bandage that graced his brow bone. There was a small, barely noticeable patch of blood beginning to seep through it. She instinctively leaned forward to brush her fingers against it. Megumi hissed softly in his sleep, causing her to retract her hand quickly as if she’d just placed it into a blazing fire. That aggressive furrow was smacked right back onto his face, and he attempted to turn over on the couch. A sharp, guttural groan left him at this movement. 

“Megumi?” Zumi called out, now concerned as his forehead broke out into a cold sweat. His hand subconsciously clutched at his abdomen, and, without much thought, she peeled the freshly placed blanket back and lifted both the hoodie and tshirt that he had layered on. A sharp gasp shook her as her eyes fell upon the large expanse of blue-black, bruising skin that traversed up the right side of his ribs and across his back. The moment her frigid hand met the skin left hot by the bruise, he shot up like a corpse in a shitty, 80s zombie movie. 

Zumi shrieked as his hand shot out to clutch her wrist anxiously. He yanked her down in time with his tired eyes batting frantically open. Upon seeing the familiar, long white locks cascading around him and the timid, wide blue eyes, Megumi’s fight or flight slowly deactivated. Holding herself up with a hand on his chest to prevent her from embarrassingly falling straight on him, she stared incredulously down at him. His breathing was still evening out from the scare, and his Adam’s apple bobbed with a tight swallow.

“Zumi,” he murmured in an almost drunken haze, his navy eyes scanning her startled expression. Having been ripped out of REM sleep so abruptly, he barely had time to gather his thoughts. All he knew was that the girl he had been waiting all week to speak to was right before him, moonlight casting an ethereal glow over her soft features. There was only one thing he had rehearsed to say to her when he saw her again, so it spilled from his lips in spite of the ridiculous circumstances they were currently under. “Did— Did you like the book?” 

“You fucking idiot, what happened to you?” She angrily whispered, moving to push his shirt further up his chest to get a better look. He wanted to swat her hands away, tell her he was fine as he’d been repeating all night, but as her delicate touch trailed up his chest and shoulders, he couldn’t find the willpower in him. Instead, he leaned forward and allowed her to pull the layers over his head. A chill ran down his spine as she grazed over the portion of the bruising that extended toward his back. 

“Nothing’s broken.” He stated simply, staring down intently at his blanket covered lap as she inspected him from behind. His back arched uncomfortably as she unknowingly pressed too firmly on a particularly dark spot, and a hiss escaped him. 

“Sorry! I’m sorry, Megs.” She gasped. Placing a comforting hand on his shoulder she jumped up from the couch to rummage through the kitchen cabinets. Seemingly retrieving what she had been searching for, she plopped down behind him once again with her legs crossed. “Here, this might help. It’s a heating patch.”

There was a rustling of the wrapper that sounded unbearably loud in contrast to the silent apartment. After a moment, he felt a sticky cloth being placed against the more abused part of his back. She rubbed over the fabric softly as if she could make it work faster by pure will alone. It only took a moment for the chemical reaction to start, and flashes of heat began to penetrate his sore muscles. Unable to keep upright any longer, he fell back limply, his head falling haphazardly against her lap. To her surprise, he made no move to shift from the position. 

She hesitantly brought her hand down to brush the hairs away from where they stuck against the sweat on his forehead. Indulgently, she allowed the tips of her nails to graze softly against his scalp on its way back. 

Selfish— he was being so selfish, he thought as he leaned into her touch. Had he been more conscious, he would have been more embarrassed of the soft moan that fell from his lips at the feeling. Luckily, she didn’t mention it. Instead, a warm smile befell her at his boyish reaction, and it encouraged her to pick up her hand and repeat the motion, slower this time around so he could savor it. 

“Why didn’t you stay home, Megumi?” Zumi asked softly. His head’s soft push against her hand was the only indication she had that he was still awake. Fushiguro had never experienced a touch so delicate— so intimate— solely for his own pleasure. The soft scrapes of her fingernails against his scalp were setting him ablaze in ways that would likely scare her if she could take a glimpse into his mind. “Why did you come over here like this?”

“You were supposed to tell me what you thought about the book.” He mumbled mindlessly, growing sleepier against her soft touch. Still, he popped his eyes open to look up at her. “Did you hate it?”

Zumi laughed softly at his irrelevant concern and shook her head. 

“Well,” She began, a slight blush covering her cheeks as he stared expectantly at her. “I… didn’t finish it. I fell asleep.” 

Somehow in the midst of his countless injuries and unwavering exhaustion, he still managed to roll his eyes in a very Fushiguro fashion. 

“Finish it.” He demanded softly, his eyes fluttering shut once again as he adjusted the blanket over his bare chest. The warmth of the patch she’d placed on his back was helping ease the tension in his muscles, even if just a fraction. Between the sudden relief, and her absentminded hand threaded through his hair, Megumi could feel himself slipping away once again. “I’m gonna… close my eyes for a second.”

She waited until his breathing had evened out, which didn’t take long at all, before removing her hand from his hair to retrieve the book beside her. With his soft breaths beneath her, she fell back into the damned book that prompted more questions than it did answers, and raised more concerns than it comforted— much like the complicated boy sleeping soundly against her. 

This time around, it didn’t take her as long to finish the remaining two chapters of the book. In between paragraphs, she would anxiously glance down at him as if he was going to pop up and ask if she was done yet. But as she turned the last page, he was still sound asleep. Sighing softly, she placed the book down on the arm of the couch and settled against the cushion. Her fingers once again found themselves tucked into his soft locks of hair, and she too fell asleep. 

When she awoke again, it was due to a familiar moan of pain falling from Megumi’s lips. The sound made her shoot awake deliriously, taking in her surroundings with a start. The source of the offending noise was also stirring awake, likely from the pain shooting across his back. With her eyes barely open, her hands shot out to feel around for the heating patch, finding it had already lost its previous warmth. 

“I’ll get you another patch.” Zumi mumbled sleepily as she carefully stood up, allowing his head to fall back against the cushion. On her trek to the kitchen, she didn’t see how he staggered up from the couch to follow her. It wasn’t until she turned around, fresh patch in hand, that she was faced with the sight of him just inches away. The sudden appearance made her jump back in shock. 

Now that he wasn’t hidden under the covers, his chest was completely bare to her. What she hadn’t noticed before when she carelessly threw his clothes off of him was how toned Megumi was. Sure, she had suspected he was packing some punch under all those baggy clothes given the nature of his job, but Jesus. He wasn’t completely bulked by any means, but he was lean and defined all the way from his broad shoulders, to his slim waist, and tense arms. Daring to peer down farther, she was graced by the sight of his delicate yet firm abs. Her cheeks flushed as she followed the prominent veins of his abdomen as they cascaded down into the waistband of his black sweatpants. 

Fuck, did it suddenly get really hot in this apartment or is this heating patch radiating from the packaging? 

Quickly averting her gaze from the direction it had been unintentionally going down, she placed a hand on his firm shoulder to turn him around. Hopping up on the counter to have a better view, she carefully peeled the old patch off his skin. Glancing at the time on the microwave, she noted that three hours had already passed since they’d fallen asleep. 

Megumi turned back around once she finished smoothing the fresh patch onto his back. Truthfully, he already was feeling significantly better following the peaceful nap he had been able to take, but the warmth did feel nice against his bruised ribs. He hummed softly, moving to stand between her legs. The sudden boldness was unlike him. His movements were always calculated, almost over thought, but he assumed the opioid coursing through his blood wasn’t just calming his pain. 

“Did you finish the book like I told you to?” He questioned softly, unconsciously leaning in just a hair closer to her. 

She hummed in response, nodding so softly he wouldn’t have seen it had he not had such a laser focus on her at the moment. Zumi was worried that if she opened her mouth to speak, all that would come out was a squeak. 

“And?” He prompted.

“It was ass.” 

His head fell against her shoulder in defeat, a soft chuckle delicately shaking his shoulders. Zumi’s eyes widened just a hair at his uncharacteristic behavior. 

“Straight dog shit.” She laughed, aware of the way her heart was ready to beat out of her chest at his proximity. As her laughter died down, her eyes skimmed his abused back, and she reached a hand back to touch it softly. “So, are you gonna tell me what fucked you up so bad?” 

He was silent against her. So, she tried a different way. 

“Can you give me one?” Zumi asked quietly, almost uncharacteristically shy as her fingers trailed up his back and to his shoulder, unaware of the fire she was fanning within him. “One Megumi thought?”

It was slow— so slow how he lifted his head from her shoulder to stare into her eyes. She tried to swallow back her rapid, shallow breaths. In an instant, his hand came up to grip her cheeks in a motion she’d performed on him countless times now. His fingers were delicate but firm against her jaw as they squished at the fat of her face. There was a calculated gaze in his dark eyes, one that she’d be lying if she said didn’t intimidate her just a bit. 

“How about you give me one for once.” Megumi suggested lowly, searching her face for a moment. “Hm? One thought from the mind of Azumi.”

Her breath hitched as he leaned in impossibly closer, his other hand clenched in a fist and holding himself up on the counter beside her hip. There were so many thoughts running through Zumi’s head right now— none that she would dare say out loud to him though. She’d never been put in a position like this before, where something she wanted so badly was right there in front of her. All she would have to do was take it. She’d never felt anything like this before— this heat that was pooling in her stomach and threatening to burst out of her chest. She wanted him to swallow her whole. Still, he was expecting his answer. 

“Maybe you can start with the woman that comes to your house for appointments.” The sun was just beginning to peek up from the horizon, casting a low light on his harrowing face as he stared into her soul. How could she do it? Expect him to spill his heart out to her all the time when he knew virtually nothing about her. He wasn’t trying to pry the information out of her with malicious intent. No, he just wanted to know her, to understand her for a change instead of being constantly left in the dark. “Or maybe…” he mumbled, his eyes flickering up to the medicine cabinet above her before falling back on her wide eyes. “With the pills in your cabinet.”

She gasped softly, brows furrowing at his meticulous tearing down of her walls. Her lip trembled just a hair, and his eyes quickly fell to them. It was almost instinctual, her urge to smack him back and tell him she was fine. There were enough people in her life tiptoeing around her, afraid that she might break if they expose her to too much of the harsh world around her. Megumi couldn’t end up like Satoru— shielding her from his world and cocooning her in glass enclosing under the false pretenses of safety. 

“What does it matter to you, Fushiguro?” It was an attempt to sound firm, to protect her secrets from him, but it was a game he too was a master at. He saw right through it. His fingers flexed ever so slightly against her cheeks. 

“I just want to understand you. I don’t… I won’t see you any differently.” 

Her azul eyes searched him, as if assessing for danger, but found nothing but raw sincerity and curiosity. Would it be worth it for her to test the waters? To see how he’d take it? After all, he’d been the only one to take a chance on her, give her a chance at life and experiences. She wanted to hold onto that and hold onto him. 

“I was… raised in the shadow of my brother.” Zumi whispered, unsure of how far she was willing to take this story. He stayed silent, willing her to continue. “I was always told how my life would look like— what it didn’t have to look like because of him. He freed those in the clan from the obligations of upholding the name, but they’d been doing it their entire lives. Of course they were fine waiting on him the rest of their lives if it meant not having to concern themselves with the politics of it all or… put their lives on the line again.”

“But you wanted a choice.” Megumi assumed. Zumi nodded softly, her leg settling comfortably around the sides of his hips. 

“It’s privileged.” She automatically shut her own feelings down. “But I have lived my entire life as just Satoru’s achilles heel.” Tears threatened to spring from her eyes, making her turn her gaze down and away from him as best she could with her face still gripped between his fingers. “I don’t blame him— I never have. He’s just done the best he can all his life, but… even when he took me from the clan, he still saw me as just that—”

“His weak point.” He finished for her. His thumb reached up to swipe the stray tear that fell down her smushed up cheek. 

“I just couldn’t do it anymore— living with no idea of how my life would end up, if it’d even be worth—” She stopped herself. Maybe that’s where she should draw the line for now. Judging by his now tensed shoulders, Zumi assumed he had caught enough of what she was inferring. He didn’t need to know everything. “So yeah, Satoru’s gotten me some help. That’s… that’s what all that was.” 

The air around them was thick with the implications of her words. Megumi pondered on them silently. She didn’t know if it’d be worth… seeing how her life played out? He wanted to sit in her words, to absorb how she must have felt all these years— how lonely it must have been— how worthless she must have felt. There was no purpose in her life, no light at the end of the tunnel. He wanted to fault Gojo for it. He thought it would be easier to blame him for sheltering her away from her potential than to face the fact that the world they were apart of truly could be at risk because of her. Megumi wished he didn’t understand his sensei— but he did. 

Painfully aware of how she was staring apprehensively at him, trying to gauge his reaction to her dark words, he looked up at her. 

“So… do you think it was the pills or the mental health yoga that did it for you?” 

It was silent, and he feared she wouldn’t have found his dry attempt at a joke as amusing as he would. All he wanted was to prove to her that things didn’t have to change between them, that he wouldn’t subject her to the same treatment her brother had. It was quiet for a beat longer before her boisterous laughter filled the air around them. A breath of relief escaped him, and he found himself smiling along with her, the hand on her jaw pulling her that much closer. He wanted to see her smile up close, to feel the vibrations of her laughter against him. As his nose grazed her, he wondered briefly if he was treading on ice that was all too thin— because her laughter slowly died out. 

“Give me another one?” Megumi prompted, his voice just barely above a whisper. “Another Zumi thought?” 

She wished he’d release the grip he had on her just so she could think straight at all, but it had been there for damn near ten minutes now without any signs of dropping. His breath fanned against her cheeks shakily as she reached out to place a hand on his shoulder. It was meant to push him back just a bit, but she couldn’t— opting to grip onto the deliciously defined muscle of his arm instead. 

“I was thinking of how much it scared me to see you bruised up like that.” She whispered breathlessly, trailing her hand down to his chest— god she just couldn’t help herself. Her hand was small and cold against his hard chest, and for the second time that night, Megumi was struck by the intimacy of her touch. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt before— someone wanting to explore him like this, to study and map him out. Leaning into her touch, a soft groan bubbled in the back of his throat. 

“Another one.” He gasped, the hand that had been idle on the counter reaching up to tentatively grip her waist, sliding up the fabric of her sweater oh so subtly. The shaky breath that escaped her nearly drove him insane, making the fingers that had found her waist squeeze down on the soft flesh.

“I’m thinking about how nervous you’re making me right now.” 

This made him pause, and the hand that was gripping his pectoral drifted down to the ridges of his abs. They were quivering under her fingertips. The sensitivity he had to her touch was making her mind reel, wondering what he’d do if she continued her timid exploration across his body. He quickly moved his hips away from her just an inch lest she feel the consequences her wandering hands were wreaking on him. 

So close now, she could see the flecks of near black in his navy eyes as they stared half-lidded at her. His fingers tightened once more on her cheeks before he leaned in to her, prepared for once in his life to take something just for himself. 

But outside the apartment door, they heard a bag fall to the ground— keys rustling. For the first time in what felt like ages, his hand fell from her face. Their gazes shot across each other's faces in panic. Megumi, in record timing for someone with severely bruised ribs, flew across the kitchen and hopped over the back of the couch. In one quick motion, he pulled his hoodie back over his head, yanking it down slightly to cover his groin and shoving his discarded tshirt under the couch. Zumi hopped down from the counter and opened the fridge, pretending to stare thoughtfully into it as the door creaked open. Honestly, she was hoping the cool air of the fridge would do anything to calm her burning cheeks. 

“You all are up early.” Satoru remarked as he locked the door behind him. Pulling out a carton of strawberry milk as to not look suspicious, Zumi felt brave enough to face her brother with a tired smile. 

“You’re back early.” She stated simply, shakily stabbing the straw into her milk. Though he still donned his typical, black blindfold, Zumi knew her brother well enough to tell he was squinting at her from behind his cover. A tiny, amused smile tugged at his lips.

“Ended up being a grade two, easy peasy.” The man waved off, pulling the covers from his eyes upon noticing the dim lighting in the apartment. He looked around for a moment, gaze landing on Megumi, who had since been silent on the couch, trying to calm his racing heart and think of anything else that would get his blood rushing anywhere else in his body. “Feeling better, Fushiguro?”

The boy simply nodded with a soft hum. 

“Just… staring at the wall?” Gojo pressed, noticing that the television was off. The pair mentally cursed at themselves for forgetting that detail. 

“I… I just woke up.” Megumi explained, staring off to watch the sun rising outside the balcony window. Gone was his previous, wonder struck and dumbfounded gaze, and in its place was his familiar, flatline expression. Zumi thought it was impressive, yet a little concerning how fast he was able to switch it up. 

“Right,” Satoru drawled, picking up his bag and making his way to his room. He’d likely only sleep a short two or three hours before waking up to get his day started once again. His sister never understood how he could function at such a rate. “Feel free to crash on the couch until you’re… feeling better.” With a subtle wink to his sister, who paled slightly at the gesture, the man retreated for the morning. 

It was comically timed, the way the pair’s gazes shot to meet each other as soon as the door shut. Their eyes both held a similar, unspoken understanding— Satoru was most definitely onto their asses.         

What they didn’t know though, was that the man in question had heard the tail end of their conversation as he was making his way up the hallway. So, maybe he dropped his bag a little too roughly on the ground and jingled his keys a little louder than necessary before entering the apartment that morning. He was a considerate brother, after all.

chapter seven.

[oneinathousand]

I've assembled some lesser-known quotes about Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee, I hope there's at least one in here that most of you have never seen before, though the super-fans among you have likely seen them all ;)

Lee fancies himself playing Aragorn, the archetypal heroic figure of the piece - he would probably be cast as Sauron, the Satanic figure in Tolkien's Middle Earth - but he feels that only a Walt Disney feature cartoon could possibly do justice to the work.

-"Cinemafantastique" Vol 3 No 1 (Fall 1973)

I knew that Lee wanted to play Gandalf when he jumped on board the LOTR movie trilogy, but I didn't know he apparently originally wanted to play Aragorn! My guess is that once he got older, he figured he would be better as Gandalf, though of course he didn't get it. But Lee as Aragorn... if he played the part in the late 50's, 60's or early 70's, I could see him pulling it off, what with his swordfighting abilities. Did he ever comment on the Ralph Bakshi adaptation?

After the liberation of Germany, he [Lee] visited a number of the concentration camps, including Dachau, a deeply disturbing experience which, he says, provided him with such a close-up view of the charnel house side of real life that he is unaffected by anything he sees or does on the screen.

-The Dracula Scrapbook, Peter Haining

I have decided now to tell a tale a bit "out of school" regarding the relationship between Peter and Helen Cushing, especially since this is a lady who remains a bit of a mystery to most Cushing fans - like a figure out of an Edgar Allan Poe tale, considering the way Peter lionized her as if she was indeed his "lost Lenore." During the latter part of 1977, I saw quite a bit of Christopher Lee as he and his family were living in Los Angeles where he played golf (and made the occasional film or television movie of the week.) One afternoon, we were at lunch, and the subject of Peter and his wife came up in conversation; Christopher leaned over to me and said, "You know David, Helen Cushing was a bit of a psychic vampire in life; she kept Peter very close. It was as if she could read his very thoughts before he had them. They really were soulmates of the first order; make no mistake about that! I don't think Helen ever really trusted me where Peter was concerned - even after he and I had made several films together. In fact, Helen used to say to me, "I know you think you are now bigger than my husband don't you?" Well, I just looked at her, smiled and said, "Well Helen, I am taller than Peter you know." Christopher felt that Peter had such guilt - imagined or not - about anything he might have done when they were married; if for example he ever found himself attracted to any of the Hammer glamour girls; whom he worked opposite, it all was now too much to bear. On the other hand, Vincent Price responded to Peter's intense mourning with his usual brand of humor. During the filming of Madhouse, he observed Peter discussing ways of communication from beyond the grave by perhaps installing a phone in the crypt; Vincent listened to all this and then replied with that unmistakably deadpan voice, "Well Peter, what if she's out?"

-David Del Valle, "Diabolique" #16

A few of you may recall seeing a quote posted here from Lee calling Helen a psychic vampire. I tried to find the source for that, but I couldn't. Instead I found this other version, possibly by the same person, which seems to give more insight about what Lee actually thought of Helen, and it comes off as much less harsh on his part than the other one.

A while back, I looked up interviews about the making of The Legend of the Seven Golden Vampires, and I swore I saw a magazine or something where Roy Ward Baker, the co-director of the movie along with the Shaw Brothers, said something about Cushing during the making of it to the effect of: “He was absolutely miserable, poor bugger.” But I forgot to take a screenshot of it then and for the life of me I couldn’t remember where it came from, I tried to look through my search history but couldn’t find it. I swear that I saw it, though!

Oh well. Next up is a quote about Lee and Cushing watching Looney Tunes together for the last time, get your tissues out...

In the early 90s I worked for Hammer Films and was asked to organise a voiceover recording for a Hammer Films documentary. Both Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee had agreed to work together one last time. Christopher Lee had asked me to organise one thing: a television and a VHS player in a private room and to have some alone time with Peter. After the recording, I cleared the studio and left Peter and Christopher alone with the TV. They hadn’t noticed that I was still at the mixing desk so I waited to see what they were going to be watching. I saw Count Dooku and Grand Moff Tarkin sit watching Looney Tunes cartoons – each doing perfect impersonations of Sylvester the Cat and Tweety Pie – all line perfect! I can’t remember exactly – but I think Christopher Lee was Tweety Pie and Peter Cushing was Sylvester.

-"Popbitch" 2015 Annual, the quote is just credited to a "JH", but IMDB lists a Jane Hughes as having worked as an assistant director in the Canterbury studio where Lee and Cushing recorded their voiceover, so this is most likely her. I personally would like to believe that Lee was playing Sylvester and Cushing was Tweety because Lee said he was always Sylvester to Cushing, and come on, Cushing MUST have been Tweety, that character would fit him like a glove!

For this final quote, I'm gonna do something different and copy-paste a whole interview done with Lee by a guy named John Exshaw about Cushing a year before the latter died for the magazine Cinema Retro, the interview being put up on their website. The formatting on the interview is all messed up, so I fixed the apostrophes and em-dashes and will put the whole thing here for your enjoyment.

I find this interview fascinating not so much for what Lee says about Cushing, but for how it implied he saw himself compared to Peter:

I didn’t meet him until we did the first Hammer movie. I’d seen him. Of course the thing which I’d seen which impressed me most, understandably, was 1984, which was remarkable. He was wonderful in that… Live TV! [shudders]

Total dedication; and this is the answer to why Peter Cushing is an actor. Total dedication. Total! The most professional actor I have ever worked with. And I’m not going to say underrated, because he isn’t underrated. He’s highly regarded all over the world as a brilliant actor, and deservedly so. The record shows that… Also, one thing that we do share, I think, more than anything, which is more important than anything else - I think we share the same dedication, I think we share professionalism, I think we share the same feelings about doing the best we can - one thing we certainly share is the same sense of humor, which of course the general public is totally unaware of. If they knew what we got up to on the set in every film we’ve made… the imitations that I used to do… Oh, we used to dance together in the rushes, yes; me made up as the Frankenstein creature, a sort of, a sort of, what do you call it - buck-and-wing dance, you know. And in years and years and years he and I have shared this idolatrous love of the Warner Brothers cartoons, you see, and Sylvester, and Tweetie Pie, and Yosemite Sam. And I’ve always imitated them, you see, and he’s done the same. And we used to do that on a set; people used to think we’d gone out of our minds, and we’d make each other laugh. Sometimes it’s so important - in a way, it’s absolutely essential - but we’re both of us ice-cold when it comes to doing it, even if we’ve been been laughing a few moments before. And that’s a thing we also share, total concentration.

And what can I say about Peter Cushing that I haven’t said before? I mean, consummate actor, brilliant technician, and a marvellous human being. I’ve always said, you know - I’m sure you’re aware of this - that he should have been a priest… Because there is a great love for his fellow man. There’s an almost superhuman loving kindness in Peter, and it’s always been in there. I’ve never heard him say anything harsh about anyone. He’s also a deeply religious man. Those are the two things we don’t have in common. I’m afraid I do say what I think. I’m not tactless but I am a more direct person than he is. I don’t have his tolerance. I don’t have his gentleness. I don’t have his faith; I wish I did…

He is not an easy person to get to know, believe you me. There’s a lot about Peter that I don’t know… But of course, as you know, Helen died in the 1970’s and that is his only desire left in life. And it’s genuine. He has stayed alive because he’s a man who would never take his own life because that would be a great sin, and he has stayed alive through some pretty terrible experiences, you know. He’s had cancer, and problems with his legs, his hips, breathing, and all sorts of medical problems, but the spirit is unquenchable and the speed of thinking and the mind haven’t changed at all. I mean, it’s another cliche - the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. The same thing with Vincent [Price]; mind like a rapier, both of them. Only the physical disabilities of getting old…

But he’s certainly one of a kind, and of course this business of staying alive, simply existing, which is how he looks at his life - existence. He’s only waiting for that moment; only waiting for it. And he’s been waiting now for twenty-three years. It must be terrible to be so admired and so loved and so respected but to impose, I feel, on yourself, deliberately, a sort of monastic seclusion which he seems to prefer. He seems to; I mean, you wouldn’t think of it if you saw him with a group of people but I think he prefers to be alone. I don’t think the house is full of people. I don’t think there’s many very, very close, intimate friends - but nor have I, and nor have many people.

Acquaintances, yes; admirers, yes - scores of thousands all over the world, people who feel they know him, people who feel that he’s a friend - all that. That’s on a professional basis; I think on a personal basis, I get the impression that he’s a person who keeps his life and his relationship with his wife very much to himself. It’s locked up in a cupboard of which he has the key. He doesn’t open that cupboard and release anything unless he chooses to. But I don’t either.

[leiascully]

“I wish you would write a fic where…” — Scully is pregnant with (or has already had) baby 2, and Diana is somehow not dead & she comes back into the XF…. Set in either IWTB era (Mulder’s depression) or post s11 (the fall out of CSM and Jackson etc)

1/2

Here you go!

Scully’s in the office looking at pictures of baby Joy on her phone when she hears the knock. It takes her a moment to look up. Joy’s only been in daycare a few weeks, and the only person who ever knocks is Skinner. Instead, when she looks up, there’s a tall woman with an elegant grey chignon and a chic suit with a visitor’s pass clipped to the lapel. Scully’s breath catches in her throat. But it’s not Teena Mulder - it doesn’t even really look like her. There’s just something about the aura she brings that carries that same scent of graceful suffering, like a vintage perfume that’s spoiled somehow.

“Diana,” she says evenly. “Or is it Agent Fowley?”

“Hello, Agent Scully.” Diana gestures to a chair. “May I sit?”

“Be my guest.” Scully sets her phone on the desk, face up. Diana would know she’s recording their conversation. They’ve both learned to keep track of the evidence.

Diana glances at her screen. “She’s a lovely child.”

“Thank you,” Scully says without flinching. “She’s our little miracle.”

“Yes,” Diana says, “somehow they do find their way to you, these miracles. But I suppose you deserve them, after all you’ve endured.”

“Is it Agent Fowley?” Scully presses.

Diana demurs, sweeping away the idea with one hand before it returns to clasp around her crossed knees. “Fox might have returned from the grave to his former employment, but I had no wish to rejoin the FBI’s ranks.”

Scully smiles faintly. “That was a long time ago.”

“Another lifetime,” Diana says. There’s a glint in her eyes, a tension around her lips. Scully doesn’t respond to the jab.

“How can I help you, Diana?” She picks up a pen. “Assistant Director Skinner assured me they’ve upgraded the fire mitigation system, by the way.”

Diana doesn’t react. She seems to be thinking. “I suppose I came to talk to you,” she says at last.

“To me?” Scully tilts her head. “I’m not sure exactly what you think we have to say to each other.” She stares at Diana for a long moment, sifting through the memories. It’s been so long. Another lifetime indeed.

She remembers her last encounter with Diana, the oblique contact, the fear, the rage, the genuine sorrow. “I do owe you a thank you. You’re the one who left the envelope with information about where they’d taken Mulder.”

Diana stirs, as if she’s come back from the depths of her own mind. “Whatever you think of me, Agent Scully, I never wanted either one of you to die.”

Scully smiles, just a little. “Likewise.”

“I believed in the mission,” Diana tells her. “I believed it would save us all. I knew I was working for men in over their heads, but I didn’t see another way.”

“I know,” Scully says, and she does. She does, now that the world didn’t end. Now that the black oil has receded and the shapeshifters have vanished, now that the supersoldier project has been decomissioned, she understands the things Diana did, and why. She will never understand the rest, but she has that.

“I’m sorry for my part in what they did to you. But I wouldn’t change the choices I made.” Diana nods toward Scully’s phone. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you got your miracle.”

“Thank you,” Scully says, and she means it.

They gaze at each other, blue eyes and brown. At last they have taken the true measure of each other, and neither is found wanting. The betrayals of their younger years are old scars now. There isn’t any pain there. It almost doesn’t matter who was right and who was wrong. They moved through different worlds. Of course their paths diverged. Scully, who has loved Mulder and lost him and fought her way back to him a hundred times, understands the urge to reach for him.

Beyond this moment, she knows they will never see eye to eye. She knows Diana knows it too. This is the peace soldiers only find in the middle of the battlefield, when the war is over.

“Thank you,” says Diana.

“For what?” Scully is startled.

“For standing up to the Syndicate, at great personal cost. If their mission was just, their methods were not. Spender’s least of all.”

“Jeffrey came back, you know,” Scully says.

“Yes. He always had too strong a sense of justice to stomach the work.” Diana leans forward just a little. “Thank you for taking care of him.” She doesn’t mean Jeffrey Spender.

“You’re welcome.” Scully’s voice is steady, somehow.

“I can’t say I was deceived,” Diana tells her. “I went into the work with my eyes open. But the world shifted. The plans changed. Whether I couldn’t keep up or I didn’t want to is irrelevant. I wasn’t given the choice.”

“You were a pawn to them,” Scully says.

Diana inclines her head with a economy of motion Scully can’t help but admire. It’s neither agreement nor disagreement, just an acknowledgment of Scully’s own truths. “Well. I’m not any longer.”

“Good,” Scully says.

Diana uncrosses her legs and stands up. “There’s no need to tell Fox I was here.”

“I assumed you came to see him.”

Diana tilts her head and smiles. “No, Agent Scully. My unfinished business was with you.”

They don’t shake hands. Scully watches Diana leave. She taps her phone to stop the recording and then cups her chin in her hand, staring into space. She wonders if Diana will be on the security footage. She wonders if anything has gone missing in the last hour or two. Maybe respect can look like paranoia. Maybe the past can’t be entirely overwritten, but the book can be closed. Maybe this is what peace feels like when a ghost is laid to rest.

Mulder comes in half an hour later and finds her still thinking. He sets a coffee down on the desk in front of her.

“Missing our pride and Joy?” he asks.

“Hmm?” Scully says. “Of course.” She comes back to herself and shuffles the papers on her desk.

“What were you up to all morning?” he asks, settling into a chair with the lazy grace he’s never lost.

“Oh, talking with an old friend,” she says, and it hews close enough to the truth.

[barry-j-blupjeans]

Angus was a good detective. The best detective, if he could say so himself. Good enough for the Goldcliff Militia, good enough for the Bureau of Balance. But there were still mysteries that completely eluded him. Sure, joining the Bureau had cleared some things up. But it also opened up so many more questions. Angus could— and has!— filled several notebooks up with things he wanted to figure out. But right, his most pressing concern was this.

"What do you— what do you mean he was just here?" Angus said, looking away from his notes at last.

The Director was sitting behind her desk, sunk deeply into her chair. She wore a look deep… something. Angus couldn't quite place his finger on it. But it didn't matter right now.

"He was just here," the Director said again, shrugging.

"Is he—he's not inoculated?"

"As far as I'm aware," the Director said, "and I am very aware of who is and isn't inoculated— he has not been."

"How can he live up here—?"

"Who's to say he's alive?" the Director asked.

"…fuck," Angus said. Okay, new page. He started scribbling stuff down. He'd have to look into undead beings more— ooh, maybe Mr. Taako could put him in contact with Mr. Kravitz, he had been wanting to ask a few things about his whole job and purpose and such. Back on topic, Angus, back on topic. Okay. The Bureau's library was probably his next best bet and if not, maybe the Militia's library, since he still had that passcode.

"If I may speak honestly," the Director said, leaning forward. She moved a few sheets of paper aside. "I don't give a fuck how he got up here because, quite frankly, I hate speaking to him. The less we interact, the better. Have you heard his voice? The man sounds like a violin that got beat into a pile of chopsticks. It's not—"

"So you just let him stay?" Angus interrupted, appalled.

"Garfield the Deals Warlock is not a force to be reckoned with, Angus," the Director said gravely. "Sometimes, the easiest way to solve a mystery is to stop thinking about it."

"Well, yeah," Angus said. "But he's— isn't it a security risk, ma'am? If he can get up here, then who's to say someone else couldn't? Someone like— like a Red Robe, or—"

"Angus," The Director said, looking him in the eye. "There are no Red Robes on the moon."

"That you know of," Angus said.

"That I know of," the Director allowed. "But I can one hundred percent assure you that Garfield is not a Red Robe."

"He has the magical ability—"

"He's as much of a Red Robe as you are, Angus," the Director said. "So unless you have something to share—"

"I was— it was a goof, Madam Director," Angus said. "I'm— I'm not a Red Robe." A pause. But could he be? If the Voidfish could erase the memories from his head about the relics, then maybe. But, no— no, Angus had been a baby. He couldn't make a weapon of mass destruction as a baby.

"Mine was also a goof," the Director said, cutting into his thoughts. Oh. Right. Okay. "Angus, I do very much enjoy chatting with you, but I do need you to get out of my office. I'm afraid to say that I have a spa appointment with Merle this afternoon and I need to mentally prepare myself. I think it would be wise for you to stop investigating Garfield and resume looking for another Relic."

"Of course," Angus said. "But if I happen to find anything about Garfield being a— maybe like a lich, or—"

"Can't be a lich," the Director said. "He'd just get blasted off the ding-dang moon."

"I'm— I'm sorry?" Angus asked.

"It really is time for you to go," the Director said, standing. A few of her bones popped and she grimaced. "I believe you left off with the, uhm, the Temporal Chalice, correct? That is— that's a pretty big one." She rounded the desk, doing a sweeping motion with her hands as if to say "shoo!". "I'm sure you can manage, though."

"Of course, I can," Angus said. "I'm the—"

"World's greatest detective," the Director said. "So you've said— and proven, too. Expect a hefty bonus around, uh— midsummer. Or thereabouts."

The Director showed Angus to the door.

"How big of a bonus?" Angus said, shutting his notebook.

"Well, it'll ruin the surprise if I tell you now," the Director said. "Have a good day, Detective McDonald."

"Have a good day, ma'am," Angus said. She shut the door behind him.

Angus love being a detective. That's part of why he was so good at it. But it seemed like every time he and Madam Director spoke, he ended up with more questions than answers. Maybe she was right. They had bigger problems than whatever Garfield the Deals warlock was. Or used to be, if that was anything. He should get back to finding the Chalice.

He paused, opening his notebook again.

It wouldn't hurt to look up more about liches, though. Just in case.

[romanoffsbish]

Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve

WandaNat x Fem!Reader

A Torn up Masterpiece

Warnings: Age Gap (R’s 19/21 in flashbacks/26 now), Manipulation, Gaslighting | 4,272 Words

18+ | Minors DNI | No Smut, but alluded to.

—•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•—

“If I was some paint, did it splatter, on a promising grown man? And if I was a child, did it matter? If you got to wash your hands?"

—•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•—

The director was a man of few words, and with even fewer fucks to give, which is why you're here against all your many protests. He had a knack for living up to his name, because as you saunter into this meeting room full of people—them—you can't be bothered to stand you feel the fury coursing through your entire body.

"Welcome to the end of the world as we know it everyone.," the Director's hologram gravely greets, prompting an eye roll from you because of course you have to be here but he doesn't.

———

"Well, the end of the world for all of you.," you instantly correct the man who glares at you in an instant., "What a pleasure to hear from you Agent Y/L/N—the upcoming star of the show should always make herself known.," you smirk as the rest of your old team look back at you, their expressions all varying from pensive to amused, and for a very select two—regretful.

Wanda and Natasha hadn't seen you in five years—you grew up, and not for the better.

Once upon a time, not too long ago you'd be sat in one of their laps in this room, giggling and possessing a hope for the prospective future. They'd made promises of a forever love to you, sharing in the sweetest of moments with you, but it was all a ruse. It took you a lot of time to see their murky intentions, and you now know they never intended to keep their false words.

Oh to be young and in love right? Wrong!

What a clueless little girl you were to ever believe they'd love you without limitations. It was so obvious to anyone paying attention that the couple had simply grown bored alone and found your youthful energy worth exploiting. They surrounded you with their tantalizing auras within only a month of your arrival, edging straight into your heart with soft smiles and sweet phrases that miraculously shielded the sickening lies of a promising love beneath.

Most of your intimate moments happened in their bedroom, and for as long as you could reside between their bodies it felt like enough. They'd been adamant on their privacy from the start, but naive as you were, the publicly shared intimacies between the long term lovers told you that you were really just a preferred secret.

Still, you held onto your naïveté, and the older woman ate every bit of your innocence up like a couple of succubus's until you were hollowed.

When the older of the two proposed marriage you were shocked. Stood off to the side you watched the women embrace, tears of joy fell from the witches eyes, while ones of betrayal fell from your very own. Not even ten hours prior were you bringing the both of them to the edge of bliss and now you're being tossed aside.

Natasha didn't even warn you of this proposal. The team saw you broken, some even spared you a solemn glance, but they said not a word of comfort to you as they rushed instead to congratulate the blushing brides to be. It's funny really, at the ripe age of twenty one you had finally lost your rose colored glasses—almost like a cryptic right of passage as you officially entered this new age of adulthood.

These people were no family to you, all you ever were to them was the kid with desirable powers, and a bleeding heart worth tearing to shreds. They didn't even notice you leaving the room, and they were all a bit stunned to hear you were permanently gone the next day, but not too shockingly their lives moved right on.

To the couple you were only ever meant to be a short weekend expenditure. They'd tell you that they had fun, but that it couldn't go on. But then they had you, the pitiful whimpers and your eagerness to please was addicting. The longer it went on the harder it was to let you go, so they trapped you with empty words, and shallow gestures of love to keep you tame.

Breaking you entirely wasn't the intention, but it was likely always going to be the end result as they selfishly misused your blind trust.

Now though, as they stare at you pleadingly, hoping to catch your eye they burn with regret. There used to be a permanent smile on your face that always matched your bright eyes, it always warmed the both of their hearts. They didn't love you as they should've, but they did really love you at the end of the day. You were a bright light, but it's obvious that's long gone, you're a dimmed lantern at best now and that's on them. They crushed your heart and you became a pessimist with nothing left to give.

"Alright team, now that we've got strategy out of the way I'm going to wish you all the best.," Fury concludes., "And Y/L/N—do behave.," you flipped the man off., "Bite me Nicholas.," then you harshly brushed right passed the women trying to lure you into their pitiful trap of a closure that would only remedy their guilt.

You wouldn't give them such satisfaction...

—•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•—

If you never touched me, I would've gone along with the righteous. If I never blushed, then they could've never whispered about this.

—•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•—

"So, you're the infamous Y/N Y/L/N then?," you hear a gruff, yet feminine voice coming from behind you, and for some odd reason you actually stop to indulge them., "It depends on why you'd be interested in my existence on if the answer to that question is a yes or no."

The smile you gave the curious blonde was polite, but it was clear as day you weren't. Something in your eyes told her this wasn't a friendly encounter, and deep down she knew once you placed her lineage that it would be even further away from one., "You're the one my older sister broke right, like your heart?"

Bold—that's the only word that came to your mind as this short blonde woman spoke to you. Incredibly out of pocket as well mind you, she's only just meeting you and she acts as if she has the right to ask you such a personal question.

"Yelena?," she nods with a mischievous smirk., "I remember hearing about you, it appears she has a record for breaking hearts I'm afraid. Starting with you, and likely not ending with me.," her face instantly falls as you mockingly pout in her direction., "How incredibly tragic."

Yelena stood there incredibly dumbfounded, her mouth agape, and her feet glued to the floor as you continued onto the readied jet for your forced collective travels.

—•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•—

"God rest my soul, I miss who I used to be.

The tomb won't close, stained glass windows in my mind; I regret you all the time."

—•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•—

A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you sip on the gin and tonic you commandeered for yourself. Wakanda was a nice place, you almost felt bad stealing their booze, but you were certain they would understand the pressure placed on you. Honestly, you felt worse for the battle being brought here, to a hidden away place full of advancements. It was meant to be a place of peace, but you knew they were ready for war.

"Y/N, are you sure you should be drinking?," you took an even larger sip before turning to face the man of your nightmares., "You aren't my captain anymore Steve—kindly fuck off."

Misplaced anger really, but when you get to the nitty gritty of the situation you'll find it wasn't all that misplaced actually. Steve, along with everyone else on that godforsaken team knew you were only ever a plaything to the couple. Silently they watched as you were torn to shreds by the very women you trusted most. Never did any of them think to save you, to be the voice of reason, to save your fragile heart...

They were never anything more than pawns in a game of needless war anyways. Constantly fighting battles that were never their own, and in many ways making everything much worse.

They ruined you—that's for fucking sure.

"It's just, tomorrow's really important.," he continued on, his self righteous tone irking you to no end, and for a second you miss when a moment like this would end in pleasantries.

When you would stutter an apology, and bend to his very whim, because it was always easier to please than it was to fight. It's not that you  miss being the pushover, because you don't. It's just that you miss the carefree feeling of it all—this all consuming bitterness is lonely., "For you it is, for me it sounds like freedom."

Once again you left someone behind in a state of shock, too bad the you of today didn't care.

—•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•—

Living for the thrill of hitting you where it hurts. Give me back my girlhood, it was mine first, and I damn sure never would've danced with the devil—at nineteen. And the God's honest truth is that the pain was heaven.

—•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•—

As you'd expected, the land was a wasteland. Bodies from all sides were piling up in heaps, an expected sight to see when cowards send their brainwashed soldiers into the battlefield. Thanos—the purple tyrant you'd heard all about had yet to show himself, likely lying in wait for the perfect moment to strike. His minions in his ear while you are sat in a tree, because you were the secret weapon today.

Once Vision's metal clanked against the ground you smirked inappropriately; it was showtime.

Watching from the tree you honestly wished you had some popcorn to enjoy this show, and with the wave of your hand you suddenly did. Everyone who'd ever wronged you was having their asses handed to them; as they deserved, and it pleased you to allow it to happen for the short period of time before you joined them.

Thanos stopped in his tracks when you were now standing before him, he blinked a few times, then to everyone's shock he kneeled before you., "Y/N Y/L/N, what an honor it is to meet the woman who can bend reality to her whim.," he rose again and looked to you with a smug smile., "Pity that you'd fight on the losing side here though, why not join me instead?"

"Go on.," you humored the freakish alien in a tone that offered interest, a twinge of pride hitting you when your old team collectively gasped at your potential betrayal., "We'd be twice as powerful together and could lay waste to this populous of weaklings. Start anew even. Live in a world where those who've wronged us along the way could be put in their place."

Wanda and Natasha shared a worried glance from across the field when you said nothing. You simply stood there with a pensive stare, as if you were genuinely considering his offers. There was no reason for them to expect your loyalties anymore after they fabricated theirs. Still, a part of them believed you'd deny him, more so though they'd hoped you still cared.

"Tempting...," you mused., "Sadly not enough though, don't take it too personally, but I've learned that I'm better off working alone.," and with the simple flick of your wrist the titan was kneeling before you., "That's right Thanos, bow before me like the trash that you are, only a coward uses their powers so wickedly.," you chuckled when the man tried to get back up, but your pure power overruled his stones.

"Real revenge comes in showing the people who'd wronged you that they no longer have a place in your world, that they don't matter, and quite frankly that they never fucking did.," you spat so venomously in the titans face you'd think it was him who broke you, but you knew you were loud enough that they all heard you.

"Sounds a bit personal child, all the more of a reason for you to join me on my conquests!"

"You don't get it.," you laughed exhaustedly., "Suffering doesn't end with your plans of a more controlled version of genocide Thanos. It'll only breed a new kind, and I have no intention of letting you take away what I have found for myself out there in this cold world."

"I have more power in my finger than you do with that gauntlet.," you clarified., "Yet I have enough self control to know that the workings of the world aren't mine to control.," you then chuckle., "Well, in a technical sense I guess they are, but I don't interfere with the plights of men anymore—they're on their damn own."

Thanos looked to you tiredly., "They're all too stupid to understand that this is the way to go! Seems you are just as dumb Y/N—what a pity. The world requires order, and I'll restore it!"

"No, you actually won't.," the gauntlet that once contained his bulky hand crumbled before his very eyes., "You're going to pay for this!"

"Yeah?," you snort., "How do you reckon that?"

He said nothing but you tracked his eyes, the army of his wasn't anywhere close to dead, but he gasped when with just the wave of your hands they began to dematerialize into dust., "Well, no matter—I don't break my promises, trust me child, you will be made to pay! I swear to it.," you quirked a brow., "Do enlighten me."

Before the egotistical maniac could tell you his newly made plans for vengeance you were being splattered in his alien blood., "That was for the people of Asgard, and for Heimdall and Loki!," you momentarily froze in your place, but after a second you snapped yourself clean of the remnants then quietly vacated the field.

—•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•—

Now that I'm grown, I'm scared of ghosts; Memories feel like weapons, and now that I know, I wish you'd left me wondering....

—•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•—

No one even thanked you as you passed them by, they were too busy rejoicing in the win that they hardly brought to fruition. Well that, but mostly they were also too afraid to face you or the wrath they were rightfully owed by you. Natasha and Wanda let you pass them, but they remained somewhat hot on your trails.

The moment you stepped into the elevator, you leaned your head on the cold wall and sighed. Preparing yourself mentally for their arrival, you truly didn't have enough fight in you to continue running. Especially not when you feared they'd find a way to follow you home. Natasha is a super spy—she'd find you, and Wanda a witch who's unaware of her power, so if there's any will to, you know there's a way that she'd find you. Plus, closure is cool...

"Make it quick.," you greet them with your eyes closed, a shiver running up both of their spines at the chilling acknowledgment., "I'm late."

"Y/N.," Wanda says your name so brokenly, it almost makes you feel bad for the little witch., "We're so sorry, we never meant to hurt you.," welp, there went all of the potential sympathy.

"Oh?," your eyes suddenly pop open, a dark red now encasing them and masking your natural eye color that they once found comforting., "But you see, I actually think you did Wanda."

"No, we didn't Y/N.," Natasha adds in a much harsher tone, potentially regretfully too as you slam the both of them into the metal walls right after. Neither of them even try to fight your hold, they remember from training you that it was no use back then, so to struggle now would just be wasting their energy., “Yes you did.”

“You got off on it, looking back now I can see it clearly.,” you chuckle humorlessly., “Those glances you two would share after a good fucking done by yours truly, they spoke of love, but when you would shift to look at me, they would darken, I mistook the predatory lust in your hypnotizing eyes for love; how naive.”

Not that they really had much to say in their defense—that you’d believe, to negate your claims, but even if they did wish to defend themselves they couldn’t speak passed the zippers that had materialized on their lips.

“I see the way you two looked at me all day, your fucking traitorous eyes trailing over my ass.,” you slammed your fist into the metal besides Nat’s face., “The way Nat here couldn’t stop staring at my tits like she had any right!,” you seethed., “You two are fucking disgusting.”

“But I get it.,” you smirked, then traced over the features of Wanda’s face., “Must be so exhausting with little old pillow princess Nat.”

The glare the blonde sent your way only made your body shake with laughter, it was anything other than funny really—but it is what it is., “Don’t try to ignore the truth Natalia, the only time you did shit was when Wanda gave you a magical dick to fuck me with, you’d go feral.”

“Fucking your babies into me as you’d both say. Fantasies of impregnating me really had you two on one, I’d cry out for reprieve but it never mattered what I wanted.,” you gripped them both by their chins., “Did it?,” you dug your nails into their skin., “Did you care at all?”

Both of their eyes brimmed with tears, your sudden drop into vulnerability cracking their guilty hearts right open., “It hurt to be used like that, then left to waddle back to my room shortly after.,” you sniffed., “That’s the night I realized that I meant nothing to you both, and three days later you solidified it with rocks.”

Natasha began to thrash against your hold, it was clear your words angered her, and you saw how Wanda’s hands trembled as she sobbed. With the wave of your hands their ability to speak was restored., “How can you say that?,” the blonde cried out., “We loved you Y/N!”

“Impossible.,” you refused to believe the lies.

“No, we really did Y/N/N,” Wanda whimpered, and you only rolled your eyes at the woman., “True love doesn’t exist to break a person.,” you shook your head, then you raised it again to look between the both of them., “That’s all you two ever did to me—you’d built me up, made me promises you never intended to keep. Then you broke me into a million little pieces.”

“You didn’t even give us a chance to talk, you just fucking left!,” Natasha shouted at you., “Oh, you’re telling me the witch and the spy couldn’t find an aimless twenty one year old?,” the both of them clamped their mouths shut as soon as you challenged them with such an honest observation—they had the upper-hand.

“I stayed in a hotel the first few nights, hoping you two would show up to clear up my mind., you pathetically confessed your bitter truth., “But you never showed, I instead saw you two giggling like little school girls as you traipsed around New York with your hands linked, and not a care in the world as my heart shattered.”

The couple shared a deep look of regret that you refused to catch. They remember that day, Wanda even felt you nearby, but they honestly thought you wouldn’t want anything to do with them so they left you in your perceived peace. Now though they see they only caused you more damage flaunting their happiness.

“It was a harsh lesson learned.,” you whisper., “To love without a safety net? Well it’s childish. To trust someone else with your heart? Idiotic. Loving the two of you was my greatest mistake, and in a way almost my smartest decision. Now I know that solitude is safest, so thank you.”

Anything else would be like beating a dead horse, you said all you cared to, and even though you were all crying it went very well. Seeing them at least a bit torn up melted away the last of your resentments for them, but not nearly enough to make any real sort of amends.

“Take care.,” you waved your hand, then before either of them could reach for you, you were gone. Dematerialized right before their eyes, and Natasha was left to catch the love of her life as she stumbled forward in a fit of sobs., “W-we broke that poor girl Nat, sh-she didn’t deserve that.,” the redhead said nothing back, she simply rocked her wife and hummed softly to soothe her very own breaking heart.

The ding of the elevator startled them apart, their limbs were heavy as they went to leave, but just before they reached the door the redhead noticed a white rectangle of sorts on the floor of the lift. Natasha picked up the mysterious photo off the ground as the elevator doors shut again, her mouth instantly agape as she turns to her wife to show her what you mistakenly dropped, and the two of them feel waves of nausea roll through them.

They had to find you...

—•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•—

You're a crisis of my faith

Would've, could've, should've

If I'd only played it safe

—•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•—

"Hey Y/N/N.," you smiled at the woman, and instantly accepted her warm hug., "Hey 'Ria."

"How were they?," she stared back at you with a teasing smile., "Total menaces.," you matched her knowing smirk when you heard soft gasps followed by the softest pattering of tiny feet., "Nuh-uh! Mama we were good!," Tommy shrieks., "The actual best!," Lilith adds while running into your tired body after her brother.

You hummed in contemplation, settling soft kisses to their sweet faces as you snuggled them even closer., "If you were the best, then can you tell me why you're both still awake?," you stood up, placing each of your four year olds on a hip as you did while waiting for someone to give you a plausible explanation.

"Because...," you watched as your daughters green eyes tracked between you and Maria., "Auntie 'Ria gave us ice cream before bed.," You gasped in a playful show of shock at your daughter's not so quiet whispers., "Traitor!," Maria suddenly boomed, then she launched forward to remove the squirming girl from your grasp so she could attack her with tickles.

A smile overtook your face at the sound of your daughters fading giggles as you watched her disappear with Maria down the hallway. Then you shifted to the boy in your arms slightly concerned., "Why so quiet there my lil love?," he sniffled lightly., "My tummy hurts mama."

"No more ice cream for my little man before bed then, hm?," he nodded against you, a yawn shortly following the gesture., "Let's get you some medicine for your tummy and water."

Maria walked by the kitchen with a proud smile., "Lil's in bed all tucked in.," she hugged the two of you quickly before kissing your son's temple in a show of goodbye., "Thanks 'Ria!," she winked from the door., "You saved my life, so I watched your tiny gremlins; we're even."

Tommy winced as the pink liquid offended his tastebuds, but nonetheless he took it like a champ., "Mama's bravest boy.," you coo'd while tilting the glass of water for him as he was a bit too tired to do it himself., "Ready for bed honey?," he nodded then reached for you, and you happily pulled him back onto your hip.

Then just as you went to carry him to bed there was a loud set of knocks on your door., "Shit."

They were recognizable taps to say the least, and absolutely unwarranted to say the truth. You were hoping it was Maria having forgotten something, but that was only wishful thinking.

"We know you're in there.," your son looked at you with furrowed brows and heavy eyes, and if not for his tired concern you'd have groaned., "I know you know I'm in here..."

After taking a few calming breaths, and smiling reassuringly at your son you opened the door.

"Mommy!," your son gasped, and in a split second he was bouncing into Wanda's arms, and you could see the emotions rising up in her at the actual acknowledgment from your son. Mad as you are at the couple you did always feel a bit guilty for keeping them apart from the twins, but it wasn't safe, and you had every right to take your time growing up and healing.

Natasha looked a bit sad when you looked to her, you saw her tightly gripping your polaroid from their second birthday, and that's when you realized exactly how you were found out, and that she was clearly looking for her mini me. Mouthing to her you let her know she was asleep, and to your shock she smiled at you instead of harshly glaring over this 'betrayal.'

"Mama! Look.," you tore your attention from the blonde to meet your son's gaze., "They're here! Does that mean the world is all saved?!," You chuckled lightly., "I think it does Tommy."

"Come on in...," you relented, allowing the couple to enter, and rubbing at your temples., "Make yourself at home, I'll make the coffee..."

—————

[tumbleweed-writes]

Death and the Lady: Chapter Four

Previous chapter found HERE

This chapter is slightly nsfw. So, 18+ only.

-----

Chapter Four: An Arrangement

Deputy David Hale usually didn’t make Y/N Y/L/N feel any sense of anxiety. To be honest, most of the time she was around him she just felt a little annoyed.

Her past interactions with the Charming police were a mixed bag.

Back when she’d been going through her wild phase with SAMCRO her interactions with the local police usually ended with her in handcuffs. Now that she was back in town and operating as a local funeral director, her interactions with the police tended to involve making arrangements for police escorts for funeral processions.

To be honest her feelings towards Charming’s local P.D. were quite conflicted given her past indiscretions…and her current ones. 

She’d always found Deputy Hale to be arrogant and just a little too self righteous for comfort.

David Hale had been in the same grade as both her brother, Jax Teller and Opie Winston when she’d been growing up. All four guys had been five years older than her, so they’d not really interacted outside of the interactions all three men had shared with her older brother.

Of course, that had changed once she’d gotten older and her brother had his accident. After that her interactions with Hale weren’t pleasant and her interactions with Jax and Opie were chaotic. 

Before the accident, her elder brother had been childhood friends with Deputy Hale all the way up until middle school when it had become obvious that her brother was finding new friendships with Jax and Opie.

It had become clear that David disapproved of Daniel Y/L/N’s newfound friendships. 

Even as a teenager, Hale seemed to carry around the notion that he was superior to the kids of Charming’s white trash biker gang. 

Y/N had gotten a certain level of respect from Hale as had her brother as their father was a respected member of the community…well they’d gotten respect before they’d rebelled and proved they were comfortable interacting with the white trash biker gang. 

Hale himself came from one of the more affluent families in Charming. Generations of the Hales were politicians, lawyers, and doctors.

David Hale had seemed to believe that his family background meant that he was somehow far better than the new friends Daniel Y/L/N had acquired. 

In Y/N’s opinion the Hales were nothing special. Everyone was equal in death after all. She had very little tolerance for people who tried to pretend they were somehow more important than anyone else. She didn’t care for snobbish people especially when she knew they’d wind up on her embalming table right where the same people they’d looked down upon had laid as well.

From what she could remember David Hale had been the All-American boy. He was the kind of guy who knew he wanted to grow up and serve the community. He was a boy scout. He played baseball in the spring and summer and football in the fall for the local high school. He attended church on Sunday and volunteered at the nursing home as a teen. 

She guessed she shouldn’t be shocked that even as a man in his thirties David Hale was still just as pious as he’d always been. 

If this had been any other scenario she’d almost find it funny to find that Hale had maintained the same short hair cut he’d had since he was a teenager. She’d always thought it made him appear a little boring especially when they’d been teens. Wasn’t being a teen the time where you did stupid crap to your hair after all? 

Standing near the Deputy sheriff, a few other members of Charming PD’s finest, and a borrowed modest forensic unit from Lodi near an open grave made her feel less than amused at the moment though.

She’d felt sick to her stomach when she’d received the call early this morning that another grave in Charming’s cemetery had been robbed. This was the second one within such a short time period.

Both graves had previously been occupied by men she had buried and embalmed. She’d been asked to come out by the Deputy and at least give her insight on what had happened. 

She hoped and prayed that the look of astonishment on her face, as she arrived at the cemetery, read as someone who was simply horrified by the situation and not at all aware of exactly who was responsible for this.

She gazed down into the empty casket both astounded and relieved to see that the sacks of dry concrete she’d filled the casket with were long gone. 

It seemed that whoever had done this had been smart enough to make it appear as though she’d buried a body in the casket and not sacks of concrete.

She knew the concrete had been a risk, but it had been necessary for the funeral. A full casket weighed more than an empty one. She’d just been relieved that she was right that the man’s family had no desire to see what laid within the casket. 

The man’s funeral had actually been quite sparse. From her interactions with the family regarding funeral arrangements it had seemed that the man had not had many friends in life and wasn’t the kind of guy that warranted a room full of mourners. She hated to talk ill of the dead, but she’d gotten the impression he’d not been the nicest guy. 

She hated to admit it but the information had made her feel less guilty about the fact that she’d technically loaned the guy’s body to the local MC.

She knew of course that the thought was a weak attempt to mentally absolve herself from her guilt. 

She’d be lying if she tried to claim she hadn't had a few nightmares about what she’d done. Most of the dreams featured her walking through the cemetery at night following a Son who she was sure might be Filip from what she could see through the pitch black night, only to have hands shoot out from the ground below her dragging her down screaming before she could escape.

She’d woken up in cold sweats hyperventilating more times than she cared to admit over the past month. 

Y/N didn’t need to be Sigmund Freud or Carl Jung to figure out the symbolism behind such nightmares. Her brain was taunting her both about her guilt over her actions and her newfound involvement with a group of men she’d thought she’d moved on from. 

As she stood over the empty grave she was overcome with the notion that she knew just who was likely responsible for the scene in front of her. 

Jax and Chibs had apparently not been lying to her when they’d reassured her that the favor she’d done for the club would not lead back to her.

It was clear they had done this to make it appear as though any discovery of the missing bodies was a result of a simple grave robbery and she was the stunned funeral director who genuinely had no idea how such an awful thing could happen.

She took a deep breath feeling a little anxious as she’d watched the one lone forensic scientist who’d come out to investigate, swab the inside of the casket. She knew well enough that the body had resided in the casket at one point. 

The man’s father had wanted one view of him in the casket before he’d insisted that a closed casket funeral was exactly what the family wanted. 

Any DNA would lead back to the dead man. Bodies did at times leak despite the best efforts to embalm.

She knew if there were any traces of concrete that might have leaked out of those bags she could play it dumb and blame it on the casket manufacturer. 

She highly doubted she’d have to play stupid in some interrogation though.

She tried to keep her face neutral as Hale turned to face her he quick to speak. “What do you make of this?”

She kept her voice even hoping it didn’t betray her with any signs of deception as she spoke. “I have no idea. He was there the last time I saw him.”

“And when was that?” Hale replied, gazing at her clearly studying her in a way that made her feel as though she was under a microscope.

She sighed adjusting the light black wool coat she’d worn over her black dress today. Even if this was just to come out and stare at an open grave she knew she had to look like the town’s funeral director. “When I screwed the casket shut before the funeral service. The family made it clear they didn’t want to see him like that. His father asked that the casket be sealed shut in case someone tried to go against the family’s wishes.”

She wasn’t lying. That had been the order she’d been given from the deceased’s father. Although there hadn’t been many mourners it had been clear that those who did attend were part of a somewhat dysfunctional bunch who didn’t seem to get along.

Hale nodded his head placing his hands on his hips, the action making him look all too self-important in her opinion. “Did anyone else have access to the body other than you?”

She sighed nodding her head back at Skeeter who’d recently gotten back in town the night before and seemed clueless as to what he’d come home to. She’d almost felt bad for the guy when he’d found out he’d have to tag along for this little adventure. “Skeeter was out of town. He’s usually the one who helps me set up the final touches on things prior to funerals. Old Charlie helps out a little too, but he’s getting up there. He’s nearing seventy soon. I highly doubt he’s going to start robbing graves when he’s been around this long.”

She paused thinking of the old man who was her father’s longest associate. Charles Olsen or Old Charlie as he insisted on being called, had developed a limp from arthritis but that didn’t stop him from doing a few of the more labor intensive jobs around the funeral home. He’d been a practical partner to her father in the business at one point, but he insisted his days of embalming were behind him as his body was beginning to feel worn with age. He had a harder time being up on his feet for the amount of time it took to embalm.

Of course that didn’t stop him from wanting to help out in other ways. He’d always been fond of her and she guessed he felt he owed it to her late father to help out any way he could. He’d practically watched Y/N grow up. He'd always been there. He'd been loyal to her father and now he was loyal to her. 

She was always willing to treat him well in exchange for his loyalty. Lord knows with the financial struggles she’d had, Old Charlie and Skeeter both could have found better jobs by now with funeral homes that were doing much better.

Her way of appreciating the loyalty tended to be shared bits of casserole she’d made for dinner and the occasional bought lunch or dinner especially if they had to be out late for a body pick up. 

She spoke again, shrugging her shoulders hoping she sounded honest. “The only other people who had access to the decedent were the gravediggers hired by the city.”

Hale let out a huff seemingly disappointed that she didn’t provide him with any information that could break the case. He spoke up nodding at the empty casket. “Have you ever seen anything like this?”

She sighed, being honest this time around. “A couple of times. It’s not a common occurrence. I saw it once or twice back in New York. Usually it’s old graves that are hit though…usually just edgy teens breaking into a crypt to steal a skull or something.”

She paused, shaking her head. “People are sick.”

“That they are. The deceased was found in Lodi, along with the other occupant of that first grave that was robbed…looks like someone used them to stage a crime scene. Doesn't seem odd to you that it took this long for someone to notice that this grave was disturbed. The cemetery groundskeeper spotted that first disturbed grave pretty quickly.” Hale remarked he once again seemingly studying her. 

She frowned, not liking that he was clearly watching her as though he was awaiting some kind of tell that she knew more than she did. She pushed back the thought telling herself that she was being paranoid.

“You don’t say? That’s something new. I can't say it seems odd, in my professional opinion. This is an older section of the cemetery, so less mourners. The deceased's family lives a few cities over, so I imagine they haven't been out to the site since the burial. I'm sure if anyone passed this one by they may have assumed that it was just an empty grave for an upcoming burial. In my experience deputy, most people don't peek into empty graves. So, they wouldn't have spotted the empty casket. Plus, the city only does landscaping in the cemetery every couple of months...Seems reasonable to me to think this could have sat unnoticed this long. I can't believe someone would go to all that trouble just to stage a crime scene. Who’d do such a thing?” She remarked, almost proud of herself for being able to conjure up the shock.

She knew her reaction was genuine of course. It wasn’t as though SAMCRO had let her in on their intentions for the bodies they’d requested from her.

Hale let out a small scoff he fast to reply. “I have my suspicions of who might be the culprits.”

She raised a well manicured brow tilting her head to the side playing dumb. “I'm safe to assume it’s confidential information? Given the obvious investigation and all.”

Hale practically glared straight through her, he fast to respond. “It’s out of my jurisdiction. Lodi P.D. doesn't seem to be interested in what I have to say. As far as they’re concerned this is some sick prank done by some very disturbed individuals. They’re looking into a few suspects of their own…local freaks who’ve been caught loitering around cemeteries in their area.”

She nodded her head trying not to show relief that Lodi’s police weren’t interested in any of Hale’s input. “I hope they find the responsible parties. Things like this are bad for business. I can’t have the bereaved of Charming fearing their loved ones are going to yanked from their final rests. Something like this has the opportunity to sow chaos and paranoia. I’m sure you’d agree.”

Hale sent her a look that could only be described as stern, his lips tight and his eyes narrowed. “Yeah, bad for business.”

He paused, deciding to push a little more. “Speaking of the business. How is that going?”

Y/N pushed a stray bit of hair behind her ear, the bit of hair having managed to work itself loose from the twist she’d put her hair into this morning. “It’s going. It’s been a challenge. My father’s health left a few things around the funeral home in disarray. I think it’s turning around though. Business has been good lately.”

“And how is your brother?” Hale dared to ask watching Y/N straighten out her dress under her coat.

She resisted the urge to glare at him, her brother not entirely a favorite subject of hers to discuss. “He’s fine. He’s started new meds.”

She spoke again, a sigh leaving her. “Is that all you needed, Deputy? I should get back to the funeral home. I have a few phone calls to make regarding this entire mess. The family has already left me a few voicemails I’m sure. I need to do damage control and promise that I will either rebury their loved ones or help them transfer their business to a new funeral home if they desire once the bodies are released back to the families.”

She knew it wasn’t a lie. She was so not looking forward to those phone calls. She was sure she’d be refunding some money so that she didn’t get sued though she had a feeling the families would more likely sue the city given they were in charge of the cemetery and she’d done her part on burying the dead as far as anyone knew. 

“Of course, I do have some concerns though.” Hale replied, deciding to push a little harder.

She cleared her throat hoping any annoyance she showed was more over this situation than the practical interrogation she was enduring. “Yes?”

He spoke knowing she’d probably bite his head off for this. “I know before you left town you weren’t exactly on the straightened arrow Y/N. Am I right in assuming you aren’t going to fall back into any old habits?”

She glared at him, her voice tense and sharp. “I don’t feel that this is an appropriate line of questioning, Deputy. My past is exactly that, in the past. I’ve not gotten as much as a speeding ticket for almost ten years now. My behavior as a teen and in the first year of my twenties is not at all reflective of my conduct as a grown woman. I don’t appreciate being treated like a common criminal especially when my biggest sins consist of underage drinking and some mild misdemeanors. I have worked very hard to clean up my act. I highly doubt it’s the local P.D.’s job to go around condemning innocent citizens for past misbehaviors. If that’s the case then you need to go down and arrest George Goldstein for spray painting the water tower when he was sixteen and maybe arrest Judy Mitchell for the pot she was busted with when she was fifteen.”

She cringed a bit knowing she sounded defensive but she couldn’t stop herself. She couldn’t believe he’d had the audacity.

Though a voice in the back of her head told her he was right to have the audacity. After all, she’d made contact with the very people who’d encouraged her bad behaviors back then. 

She had done far worse now than some underage drinking and a few public nuisance charges. 

Hale held his hands up in defeat he quick to reply. “I don’t mean any offense Y/N. I promise. I just had to ask. I am happy to have you back in town, especially seeing as you seem to have matured since I last saw you. I’m happy to see you’ve cleaned up your act. Your association with Jax Teller and SAMCRO did always trouble me, given our history.”

She scoffed quick to reply. “We don’t have a history Deputy. You hanging around my brother until you guys were thirteen doesn’t create some weird bond between us.”

She paused, taking a deep breath cooling her temper reminding herself that she couldn’t let him get her all riled up. She had to keep her calm and play the role of a totally innocent funeral director who knew nothing about the local MC or what they’d done with those bodies. 

She spoke, clearing her throat. “As I’ve said, I need to be going. I have a busy day ahead of me. If you have any further inquiries about these graves please don’t hesitate to reach out. You can reach me at the business number for the funeral home.”

With that she turned leaving Hale behind her not noticing that the deputy did have the sense to look a little browbeaten by her comments.

She clenched her fists as Skeeter opened the door to the transport van , they usually used for body pickups, for her before he got into the driver's seat. It was obvious he was more than sure his boss was too pissed to be behind the wheel of a van.

Skeeter didn’t speak until they left the cemetery property. “Are you as innocent as you proclaim to be?”

“I could ask you the same thing?” She remarked adjusting her seatbelt around her neck , the seatbelt was always sitting too high on her body and cutting into her skin.

Skeeter let out a huff at the comment he fast to reply. “Touche.”

He spoke again, shaking his head. “Do I need to be concerned?”

“About what?” She asked, staring down at her nails making the mental note to get a manicure tomorrow she could use a refresh though she usually just had her nails trimmed and painted with gel polish. 

It was a luxury she allowed herself along with the occasional pedicure.

Skeeter sent her a small stern glance fast to respond. “You know what.”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

Skeeter let out a huff, his hands gripping down on the steering wheel. “That’s what I used to say when I helped out SAMCRO too.”

She felt her stomach drop guilt flooding her, knowing she’d essentially stolen Skeeter’s side gig right out from under him.

She spoke, keeping her voice even and collected. “Everything is fine.”

She paused, shaking her head a small smile crossing her lips though it was weak. “You don’t need to fret over me. I’m a grown woman. I don’t need some man to come along and handle all my problems."

She let out a small laugh fast to speak again. "You know, If I didn’t know better I’d assume your concern meant you were sweet on me.”

Skeeter let out a scoff at the comment, shaking his head a small smile eventually crossing his features. “You aren’t really my type…You’re a little too…”

“A ball buster, a cold hard bitch…oh, a shrew, a C You Next Tuesday with a stick permanently lodged up her ass, a domineering witch with control issues a mile long who must constantly be PMSing. A spooky bitch.” She remarked, the small smile still on her lips remaining she finding humor in poking at her associate about just what kind of reputation she had among the local male population.

Skeeter rolled his eyes quick to reply. “I value my job too much to give any confirmation.”

She chuckled, giving his arm a small pat the words that left her genuine. “And I value you too much as a friend not to be offended by any confirmation.”

Skeeter shook his head as she removed her hand, his voice once again taking a serious tone. “I don’t like you being involved with SAMCRO.”

“What’s good for the gander is good for the goose.” She replied her voice picking up a mild tone of offense over the implication that he was implying that she shouldn’t do anything he might have done. 

“I know, I’m a hypocrite for saying it…just be careful Y/N. You aren’t just my boss…I do care about you. I know just where the Sons can lead you.” Skeeter replied, his voice still holding that serious tone. She couldn’t ignore the hint of dread underneath the tone.

She sighed, shaking her head. “I know, I’m being as careful as I can be. I know SAMCRO well enough. I think we’re both aware of my history.”

Skeeter cringed knowing he’d been around during her wild streak. He’d been apprenticing under her father then. 

She spoke as she reached out, turning up the air in the car. “We both have our indiscretions, Skeet. Let’s just leave this conversation at that.”

He sighed nodding his head, his voice still so serious. “I know.”

He spoke again, shaking his head as they turned down the road heading towards main street. “I feel bad for saying it, but it's kind of a relief for me…The cash from those favors for SAMCRO, it was a little too dangerous to have in my hands.”

“How’s it going…you avoiding triggers?” She dared to ask, well aware of the man’s gambling problem.

She was always worried it would interfere with his ability to work, but he managed aside from the occasional favor he did for SAMCRO that she was all too aware of. 

“It’s going.” was the only response she received.

He glanced over at her needing to say it again. “Just be careful, okay. I don’t want you getting in over your head. Try to learn from my mistakes.”

“I won’t get in over my head. I’ve got it covered. Like I said, everything is fine.” She insisted, uncertain if she was trying to convince him or just trying to convince herself.

—--------------------------------------------------

The news of the empty graves had spread fast and weeks later it was still buzzing around town.

Y/N as the town’s most prominent funeral director was getting sick of the unprompted questions she was being asked by her fellow residents of Charming.

She tried not to grimace as she accepted the fresh cut of skirt steak from the local meat guy at Charming’s biggest grocery store, which honestly wasn’t that big at all. 

The butcher who she was sure was named Oscar spoke looking almost giddy to get to grill her for information. “You find out who robbed those graves yet?”

“No, I’m pretty sure Lodi’s police have it covered.” She replied, trying to keep her voice level and hide any signs of irritation.

He spoke all too eager and ditzy enough to keep the questions coming. “I guess you must see a lotta sick stuff at your job though. I mean you hear the stories.”

“What stories?” She asked, widening her eyes slightly giving a false sense of innocence knowing her best course of action was to play dumb and let him maybe reflect on just how inappropriate this all was.

He shifted in place a bit, his cheeks growing dark enough that they almost matched his thinning red hair. “Uh, you know…you hear stories bout folks who wanna dig up corpses for…uh companionship.”

She cringed her stomach turning at the implication he was making. She spoke a tone of disapproval in her voice “I haven’t heard those stories in my line of work. Any reports of…that happening in the industry are greatly exaggerated.”

With that she tossed the meat into her cart turning to leave she still feeling a little queasy about the entire exchange.

She took a deep breath reminding herself that people had all sorts of wild preconceived notions about people who were attracted to her line of work.

She kept her mind focused on her grocery list. 

For once it seemed that she actually had the budget to buy more than top ramen and produce. 

The payouts from SAMCRO had helped her put money towards a few debts she’d had hanging over her head both relating to her brother’s health issues and improvements her father tried to make around the funeral home.

Her father had spent more than he’d made at one point trying to upkeep the home and now she was left picking up the tab.

Business had picked up as well. It seemed that even with the wild stories flying around about grave robberies that Charming’s residents were willing to use her services.

She’d had enough funerals lately to put some money in her bank account. There had been a car wreck with two casualties, a widow who’d died of a stroke, and most recently some teen had drowned out at a lake up near the Chigger Woods.

She felt bad knowing that people’s losses were her payouts. She knew though that this was the reality of her line of work.

When business was good, that most likely meant someone else was suffering.

She wasn't rolling in money, but she felt like she was close to breaking even. She felt comfortable enough to buy some decent groceries and she felt like she could kind of breathe. She knew she wasn't entirely financially stable, if any surprise expenses came up she might be in trouble. She wasn't fretting over money as much as she'd been though before she'd accepted the Son's payout.

SAMCRO had not come knocking for any more favors. It was something that gave her relief but troubled her.

She wasn’t exactly kicking down her door wanting to see Jax Teller or Tig Trager again, but the absence of SAMCRO after the favor she’d done for them made her feel uneasy.

No one had even shown up to address the obvious grave robberies when both she and they knew just who had done it.

She couldn’t help but to feel a little bitter knowing SAMCRO had disappeared without a trace and had left her to deal with the fallout.

She should have known better by now.

Y/N also had to admit she was missing the presence of a certain Scotsman. 

It was a strange realization to have. She barely knew the man aside from the surprisingly pleasant conversation they’d had in the cemetery that night almost a full month before.

As hard as she tried to deny it, she had to admit Filip spiked her curiosity.

She found him contradicting in a way. 

He looked rough. She’d be blind to deny it. The scars, the general unkemptness, the intense and clearly dangerous energy surrounding him…it was all parts of him that should send her running in the opposite direction.  

He’d seemed so concerned about her that night at the crematorium and the cemetery though. She had a feeling it had something more to do than any worry about her wandering the cemetery after dark. She’d picked up on the implication that he almost seemed to care about how she was coping with everything that had been asked of her. She could remember the little looks he’d sent her throughout the night especially when his brothers said something uncouth. He’d been so quick to make a show of smacking Juice for being so insensitive during the cremation. It almost seemed as though the Scot cared what she thought of him. 

Her brain kept flashing back to that conversation they’d had as she was digging a hole for those cremains. It was small talk honestly, but she’d never had small talk with someone about the beauty of the stars.

In a strange way it almost felt like he was trying to connect with her.

She felt absurd for the thought. 

A voice in the back of her head told her all men were the same; especially men in the MC.

They classified women into two groups: girls they wanted to fuck and girls who they didn’t want to fuck.

A bitter voice told her that any attention the Scottish Son had given her was more likely him hoping to charm his way into her pants and that she shouldn’t read too deeply into it.

Another little voice piped up that him getting into her pants wasn’t such a horrible thing was it?

She’d been frankly going through a dry spell for a few years now. Her bedroom was quite frigid. Usually she had to seek out a bit of self release for her frustrations. 

She had a hard time dating. Most men ran screaming when they realized what she did for a living. Her dating life consisted of men who worked in her industry. Her longest relationship had been with a fellow student during her time at mortuary school. She’d found that her partners disappointed her though. If they didn’t run screaming they just seemed like they didn’t click with her. 

The Scotsman didn’t seem to be running…though he’d not contacted her since that night in the cemetery.

Even with the radio silence lately she could remember he’d been quite flirty with her. It had felt different from Jax’s methods of flirtation. 

There was something kind of charming about the Scot. His little flirtations had seemed genuine and not just a means to get something out of her. It was so unlike the way the flirtation had always felt with Jax. 

She would be a liar if she tried to pretend that the phone conversation the Scotsman and she had about the Son’s use of the cremator that night didn’t send a thrill through her. 

It was alarming that the sound of his voice alone and a little pet name like love could pull that reaction from her. She’d tried to deny it but she did feel a certain heat spread through her under his gaze. She was almost certain her clit would throb like a broken tooth just from his gaze and voice alone, and she didn’t want to even think about those  dimples or the intensity behind his eyes.

She’d maybe noticed he had nice hands too; sort of elegant as strange as that sounded. He had long fingers and she had to admire the golden biker rings lining them. She had noticed and appreciated the fact this nails were neatly trimmed. In her opinion most guys neglected their nails. There was nothing grosser than dirty fingernails on a guy who expected to shove those fingers in more delicate areas. 

The Scotsman’s hands seemed strong and as though they understood a hard day's work. She had to imagine the roughness of his hands might feel incredible against her soft skin. 

She found herself distinctly remembering a roommate she’d had for a short while when she’d first moved to New York. The girl had praised the wonders of older men in the bedroom.

She’d remarked that Y/N’s disappointment in the bedroom stemmed from the fact that she was relying on boys to do something a man could do a hell of a lot better.

Y/N had hated to admit it but the comment did seem likely. She’d lost track of the times she’d laid in bed after a sexual encounter and found she’d not reached her end, but her partner had definitely got there all too quickly. It was made worse by the fact that she’d had to fake it so as not to bruise the poor guy’s egos.

She’d not had many partners back in New York, but the few she’d had had been a let down.

A voice claimed that the Scottish Son would not let her down in bed. Filip seemed old enough to have figured out how to please a woman by now.

She groaned, tossing a jar of peanut butter into her cart as she neared the check out lane. She did not need to be going down this road.

She once again mentally scolded herself that Filip was not getting anywhere near her bed nor any other surface for that matter.

She’d outgrown the desire to spread her legs for bad boys on Harleys. 

She ignored that obnoxious voice that piped up that Filip was no boy.

Y/N began to drop her items on the conveyor belt at the check out probably a little too harshly but she was tired and annoyed both from questions from seemingly everyone about grave robberies and her own mental dilemma about her feelings towards a certain Scottish Son.

She felt her stomach turn as she heard a voice behind her. “Y/N?”

She turned trying to seem as though she wasn’t ready to have a nervous breakdown as her gaze met the gaze of Dr. Tara Knowles.

She spoke her voice tight hoping the good doctor would read her expression as general sleepiness from errands. “Tara.”

“How are you?” the woman replied clearly happy to catch up.

Y/N cleared her throat placing a bag of spinach on the belt. “I’m well, just busy lately, tired, and you?”

“Same. Though I can’t imagine how stressed you probably are. I don’t blame you for being tired. Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask about the graves…I imagine you’ve been asked enough.” Tara replied the comment soothing Y/N slightly.

She shifted in place as she watched the cashier scan her items, the older woman moving at a snail's pace. 

Y/N wasn’t entirely sure if Tara knew about her history with Jax Teller. Tara had been long gone and had left Charming by the time Y/N had begun hanging around SAMCRO.

Y/N was all too aware of the hole Tara had left behind in Jax Teller though.

Y/N had easily realized she had at times operated as a place for Jax to fill that void if only for a short moment. It had become clear from the very few encounters he’d had with her that she wasn’t the woman he wanted underneath him.

Y/N had been upset about it at the time not because she had held any romantic notions for the Prince of SAMCRO, but because she’d allowed herself to be used in that way.

It was one of the many reasons Y/N had pulled from that world.

She almost found it strangely amusing that two women who had both run away from SAMCRO were standing side by side. Two women who were similar in more ways than they realized.

Tara spoke, nodding her head. “I’m sorry to hear about your father. It seems like you’ve got the home running though?”

“I have…I’m sorry about your father as well.” Y/N remarked, still having to admit she wasn’t entirely accustomed to the showings of sympathy when it came to her late father.

The funeral had felt surreal and she’d barely registered the words of the mourners who’d shown their respects.

A small part of her had to wonder if Tara had felt the same about her own father. She almost wanted to ask, but the question felt far too sensitive for old acquaintances. 

Tara had been around back then of course, hanging out with Y/N’s brother and Jax and Opie.

Y/N had been younger though, not entirely prone to tagging along with the older kids.

Tara cleared her throat as she responded Y/N placing the divider down between their groceries. “Thank you. It’s strange being back here…it’s like some things are exactly how I left them. I’m sure you know the feeling. I mean, you’re back as well.”

“I am…it does feel like some things about this place exist in a vacuum…things outside change but everything within remains.” Y/N replied having to admit she felt the same in more ways than Tara realized.

Tara cleared her throat again as she spoke, placing her own groceries down on the belt. “I don’t suppose you heard about Jax?”

She raised an eyebrow, paranoia running through her. Why was Tara asking her about the Sons?

Tara spoke again, shaking her head. “I mean, I know you probably haven’t seen him in years…I know Danny was close to us all…before the accident.” 

Y/N glared down at the pears as they passed by her on the conveyor belt, the mention of her brother and who he’d been before the accident making her feel terrible. “I know.”

Tara spoke again, smart enough to realize she’d struck a nerve. She seemed eager to get on with it and make sure Y/N knew this wasn’t some way to bring up her brother and make her feel awful. “Uh, Jax is a dad now.”

Y/N widened her eyes at the news, it hitting her like a brick to the head. She never would have suspected. She sighed, shaking her head. “Didn’t even know he got anyone pregnant.”

“His ex wife…she’s in bad shape. It’s not my place to share it, but the baby…Abel, he’s premature. I’ve been taking care of him up at Saint Thomas.” Tara shared she resisted the urge to go into too much detail.

Tara certainly wasn’t going to explain Wendy’s medical history nor the antagonism from Gemma Teller Morrow.

Y/N furrowed her brow at the information. It seemed that things in Charming hadn’t stayed as in a vacuum as Tara and she had been discussing. 

She felt a chill run down her spine at the mention of Abel Teller. Her line of work meant she’d taken care of a few premature infants who didn’t make it.

It was a depressing reality about her profession; children died.

She had proven to be quite proficient in dealing with infant and child mortalities. It was something the funeral director she’d apprenticeshiped under in New York had praised her for.

Y/N was capable of providing a nurturing environment to mourn for parents and keeping her wits about her enough to get the job done.

Everyone had a talent. Y/N kind of hated that one of her talents consisted of comforting and tending to bereaved parents and their dead kids.

She spoke hoping and praying that she wouldn’t be attending to Abel Teller. “How is he?...the baby?”

“It was hit and miss at first. Only time will tell.” Tara replied she biting her tongue, resisting to spill her heart to Y/N about everything she was feeling.

She had a feeling it was mostly due to the fact that Y/N was also returning to her hometown after the death of a parent. 

Tara had a feeling that Y/N might be able to relate on that issue, even if Y/N’s issue didn’t exactly also include SAMCRO and a history with it.

Y/N cleared her throat as her final item was scanned and it was time to pay. “I hope for his sake that time will do him well. I hope my services won’t be needed.”

Tara felt a chill run down her spine at the comment. She was suddenly reminded that Y/N, as sweet as she looked, could be intense. She guessed it made sense though. Y/N was casual about death as Tara was about surgical procedures.

Y/N sighed as she began to roll her cart away from the register. “I’ll see you around Tara.”

Y/N didn’t wait for a reply, her mind feeling thick and exhaustion peaking up in the deepest parts of her soul.

She just wanted to go home and take a long bath, maybe have some wine.

Little did she know though fate had a different plan.

============================

The Acura started sputtering not long after she left the grocery store. She groaned knowing that this wasn’t an entirely new development.

Given her debts, she had maybe put off car maintenance. She knew it was foolish. She saw the deadly results of poorly maintained vehicles thanks to her job.

It was easier to preach automotive safety when you weren’t broke though.

She grimaced as the car drug it was obvious it wouldn’t make the trip home, and even if it did it wouldn’t make any other trips.

She sighed knowing there was only one automotive shop close enough for her car to make it.

She cringed as she pulled the sputtering vehicle into the lot of TM Auto. She tried to ignore the fact that the automotive lot was located on the same lot as the Sons clubhouse.

It was a place she’d spent far too much time engaging in debauchery almost a decade before. She was too close for comfort to a piece of her past.

Chibs Telford noticed the familiar Acura drag its way into the lot. He moved a little too quickly to approach it.

He felt a giddy sense of excitement hit him at the realization that he’d be seeing Charming’s local funeral director quite soon.

He’d not forgotten his silent pledge to solve the puzzle that was Y/N. It was just that shit with the club had gotten so hectic that he’d not had the time to properly devote to his goals.

He’d debated using the number he’d saved in his flip phone to give her a call, but he’d feared how that interaction would go. Besides what would he say?

He’d been debating his next move while trying to keep his mind focused on the rebuild of the warehouse, issues with the supply of guns from the IRA, and other numerous issues that had landed on SAMCRO’s feet.

He’d be lying if he tried to pretend that she hadn’t been on the back of his mind constantly for almost a month now. He’d even maybe picked up the habit of reading the obituaries in the local paper that was always delivered to TM Auto trying to pretend that he wasn’t searching for the name of her business. 

He felt like a man obsessed and knew this action was a sign of his infatuation. He didn’t want to get shit from his brothers about the fact that he’d taken such a liking to their new funeral home connection. 

It seemed that fate was throwing him a bone by placing the very woman he’d been thinking about right on his path.

He approached her car, opening the driver's side door, he hoping he sounded as charming as he was attempting to. “Lass, long time no see.”

She peered at him through a pair of oversized sun shades almost tempted to point out that he and his brothers had left her high and dry to deal with their little grave robbing antics.

She held it in though reminding herself she needed these idiots to fix her clearly dying car. “I’m having car trouble.”

She tried not to eye the name embroidered into the work shirt he was wearing: Chibs. So, she guessed not everyone called him Filip. 

“Aye, when’s the las’ time ya took it in?” He asked not shying away from jumping into assisting her.

She shrugged her shoulders making a small joke, finding it easier to use humor to deflect how unhappy she was to be back in her old stomping grounds. “You’re supposed to maintain it? I’ve just been putting a post it over the pretty lights on my dash. I find them distracting.”

He rolled his eyes not showing that he found the snark kind of endearing. “I’m guessin’ it’s been a while then.”

She shrugged a sigh leaving her. “The oil has been leaking, but I’ve not had the time to do anything about it.”

She left out the last part of her statement or the funds.

“Aye could be yer head gasket that’s causin’ the oil leaks. The sputterin could be anything from the exhaust system to the spark plugs.” Chibs replied not missing the grimace on her features.

She ran a hand through her hair, a sigh leaving her. All she heard was bills bills bills, more debt to throw into the pot.

He spoke nodding his head. “It’s nothin’ I can’t fix though…might be costly and take some time.”

She cringed, rolling her eyes speaking more to herself than to him. “Great another bill…At least I have the old hearse to get around town. It’s retired from using in the business but my father couldn’t part from it. I guess his packrat tendencies for funeral equipment saved me at least transportation wise.”

“Aye, good thing we gave ya that payout though…should help with the bill.” Chibs remarked not missing the comment about the hearse or her father’s habit of hoarding funeral equipment the information both fascinating and a little worrisome.

She let out a scoff, turning her gaze towards him for only a moment before she stared down at her nails. “I had to invest every last penny of those lovely payouts in my debts. I can probably manage a bill from my legit earnings from work, but if it gets too expensive I might be fucked.”

She sighed not liking the slight hint of pity in his gaze. She spoke once again partially talking to herself working her anxieties out outloud. “I may have to let the stupid car go. I mean people around town already treat me like a pariah…in the most polite, condescending way possible…I may as well just drive a damn hearse in my day to day life. I might as well become a walking talking stereotype of a mortician. Who knows how long the old hearse will last though. I might wind up back here with another ruined car.” 

Chibs spoke the words leaving him before he had a chance to stop them. “As far as payment goes…I’m sure we could figure out an arrangement fer a lower bill.”

She frowned another scoff leaving her as she spoke her voice low though she knew the few people within their earshot weren’t paying them any mind. “I’m assuming by arrangement, you mean the next favor I do is on the house.”

Chibs cringed admitting the idea had crossed his mind. He was sure Clay would be delighted to have Y/N owing a favor on the house. Clay would be proud if Chibs came up with a way to get a favor from SAMCRO’s newest asset in exchange for car repairs. 

Chibs hated the concept though, it seemed kind of like a dick move. Chibs was no stranger to dick moves, but he wasn’t exactly fond of the idea of using Y/N’s car as a way to coax her into doing another favor for free.

He spoke, pulling a cigarette from the pocket of his work shirt, a sudden idea entering his mind. He had to hope she wouldn’t slap him for presenting it. “Ya could have a date with me. Tha’ coul’ be the arrangement.” 

She glared up at him, interpreting the offer completely the wrong way. Her voice rose as she began to chastise him. “I don’t know what Jackson or any of your buddies told you about me, but I am not a club whore, buddy. I am not the kind of girl who spreads her legs in the clubhouse dorm. Fuck you, if you even think I’m sleeping with you in exchange for car work. You can shove that arrangement right up your Scottish ass.”

He stepped back having to admit he was equally mortified, amused, and even a little turned on by her reaction. 

He held his hands up in defeat as he cleared up his statement. “I don’ mean a date like that lass. I mean…I wouldn’t turn ya down fer the offer ta sleep with me…I aint askin fer ya in my bed in exchange for autowork though. I may be a prick, but I ain’ that big of a prick.”

He paused, relieved to see that her claws seemed to be retracting. He spoke nodding over at the car. “I’m jus askin fer a chance to take a pretty lass out fer dinner and me fixin her car is jus a bonus.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “Doesn’t make me feel any less like I’m prostituting myself for car repairs.”

He spoke, shaking his head, his hand daring to reach out and caress her arm relieved that she didn’t yank from his touch. “Ya ain’ if it makes ya feel better ya can pay a reduced bill, if it bein' free makes ya feel like shite then I’ll take payment as well as a date.”

She sighed, tempted to once again tell him to shove it up his Scottish ass though a voice in the back of her head perked up that it was a nice backside. 

She ignored the warning bells and harsh voice in the back of her mind telling her this was a bad idea. She ignored the voice that told her a date with Chibs would mean she was right back to being the club hangaround.

She stared up at him trying to read if he was absolutely full of shit or not. She had a feeling he was, but not in this instance at least. 

What could one date hurt? 

“Fine, it's a date. You call me with the plans. You can reach me at my business number.”

He smirked quick to speak. “I already got yer personal cell number love, ya do member our talk awhile back.” 

She rolled her eyes wanting to snap that of course she remembered. She was tempted to scold him for saving her number behind her back. She wanted to scold him for a lot of things, some things that weren’t technically even his fault.

She resisted the urge, resigning herself to her fate. The sooner she agreed to this hairbrained date idea the sooner she could go home and take that bath she wanted. “Okay, now can I get someone to give me a ride home…preferably someone with a car…I have groceries in the back of mine that are spoiling as I stand here listening to your nonsense.”

He smirked having to like that she once again had to find a way to give him grief. He found it less annoying and more delightful. It had been a long time since a woman had given him so much crap and he’d genuinely found it appealing.

“Aye, Gemma’ll give ya a ride. Jus’ head into the office let er know yer here with a wrecked car and ya need a ride.” He replied,  a joyful feeling settling over him. He had a date with Charming’s resident funeral director.

She cringed at the order not looking forward to coming face to face with the Queen of SAMCRO.

She grabbed her purse from her car refusing to glance back at Chibs even as he spoke that flirty tone clear in his voice. “I’ll call ya tonigh’ with those dinner plans lass.”

She let out a huff wondering how she got herself into these messes lately. Why did SAMCRO insist on making her life more complicated than it needed to be? 

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Jay Kuo at The Status Kuo:

As climate disasters increase in frequency and severity, we are faced with still another grave threat: misinformation, along with its more sinister sibling, disinformation. 

As strong evidence that the writers of 2024 have jumped the shark, we have to begin today’s discussion with a simple fact: The government cannot control the weather, let alone create catastrophic hurricanes that it can send at will. Yet because of irresponsible conspiracy mongering by political leaders, with a healthy assist from online influencers and amplification by foreign actors, this bizarre claim became a top priority that many leaders, both Democratic and Republican, had to spend valuable time debunking, when they could have been focused on saving more lives and property. It’s tempting to simply laugh, but just as with the insane and false claims about immigrants eating pets in Springfield, this disinformation also carries serious and dangerous consequences. In today’s piece, I discuss how we got to this point and how political leaders and experts are pushing back. I also will place this particularly weird claim in the larger context of everything else we are seeing to help make the otherwise nonsensical make a bit of perverted sense, at least in terms of the political value it contains for those seeking to undermine our democracy. “They can control the weather.”

In a press conference yesterday, President Biden’s exasperation was evident as he shot down the newest conspiracy theories around relief efforts and hurricanes. Biden noted that “even one congresswoman” was “suggesting I control the weather and implying I’m sending it to red states.” “This stuff is off the wall. It’s like out of a comic book,” Biden declared. He’s talking of course about the Jewish Space Lasers QAnon lady, Marjorie Taylor Greene (Q-Moscow), whose tweets around the hurricanes have reached new levels of both stupidity and dangerousness. In one particularly off-the-wall tweet, viewed five million times as of this writing, Rep. Greene attached a video of a speech by CIA Director John Brennan from eight years back. Director Brennan at the time was discussing innovative ways to use aerosols to deflect the sun’s heat to reduce climate change. But in Greene’s smooth, hollow brain, that somehow became “Yes they can control the weather”—implying the hurricanes were manmade and not the long warned about by-product of an overheated ocean following decades of increased carbon in the atmosphere.

Note how she provides ample cover for her ignorance, telling her followers that anyone who counters or ridicules her claims “is lying to you” and that this is all part of some massive cover up and “the people” know it. (As Jimmy Kimmel pointed out last night on his program, Greene used to say bad weather was God’s way of punishing liberal sinners. Funny how that changes when it’s her region that is hit by it.) Rep. Greene also posted a map of the areas affected by Hurricane Helene, with an overlay of an electoral map by political party, implying strongly that the hurricane was created by Democrats to hurt the political chances of the GOP. 

Notably, however, when Democrats presented the North Carolina legislature, which has a GOP supermajority, with a proposal to extend the time for affected voters to register and to allow absentee votes more time to arrive, not a single GOP legislator voted in favor of it.

[...] But experts are worried about more than their own safety or the difficulty of their jobs. A sharp decrease in public trust during severe weather crises could lead to some terrifying outcomes. As Rep. Jared Moskowitz (D-FL), who served as director of Florida’s Division of Emergency Management for two years, warned on MSNBC, “At some point in time, we’ll see people tell residents not to evacuate because the hurricane’s not really hitting you.” If that sounds implausible, we’re already seeing versions of that from large, influential accounts on the right. The troll account Catturd (again, I can’t believe I have to write about this) declared last night that, due to the changing wind speeds of Hurricane Milton, “I’ll never listen to weather channel again.” As of today, that was viewed 2.4 million times.

Why lie about the weather?

There’s something particularly sad when the weather—one of the last, normal topics of conversation, even between people of divergent political views—is no longer uncontroversial. Victims of the hurricanes cannot even commiserate without the threat of political backlash.   “How did you ride out the hurricane? “You mean the one you Democrats sent here to destroy us?!”’ Never mind that this government weather machine seemed to batter the Gulf and the Caribbean during Trump’s presidency, and he never bothered to turn it off or order it to stop. Our foreign adversaries have long viewed the ignorance of U.S. voters as an exploitable weakness. They understand that during crises, Americans historically have come together and stood united, helping each other out wherever we can without regard to political viewpoint. And that is precisely why they have targeted these crises now, to spread rumors about the government seizing lands, bulldozing whole towns and hundreds of bodies in massive cover ups, and apparently now even generating and directing the deadly hurricanes in the first place. Bad political actors thrive where there is little common factual ground remaining for the public to stand upon. Their goal is to continue until it has all been swept away, the zone flooded from a storm surge of shit, to coin Steve Bannon’s infamous strategy.

Jay Kuo rightly calls out the far-right climate-denying conspiracy theorists pushing dangerous lies about Hurricanes Helene and Milton.

See Also:

The Guardian: How could hurricane misinformation affect the US election?

[watchmorecinema]

Why you should watch foreign films.

They're good. Bong Joon Ho (director of Parasite) says it best.

Movies are a great way to experience other perspectives and cultures. Foreign films are made differently from films you're used to. The style, the editing, the way plots unfold, it's all going to be different in interesting ways. Some examples:

Giallo films (Italian) might have nonsensical plots but they're more focused on emotion and spectacle. You're Vice is a Locked Room and Only I Have The Key might be a mess of a story but it's a wild ride of the type you don't find in America.

Japan has a lot of movies about the horrors of nuclear war and proliferation. Godzilla, Akira and Grave of the Fireflies could not have been made in America. When America makes a movie about nukes we get Oppenheimer, a movie about the people who made the bomb and not the people that suffered under it.

Korea has some amazing thrillers like Oldboy and Memoirs of a Murderer. America remade Oldboy and it was not nearly as good.

These are all broad strokes of course, but the point is that other countries have a lot to offer and you're missing out on so much if you're scared off by subtitles. The way I figure is that 95% of the world's population doesn't live in America, so why assume 100% of good movies come from there?