#...i must do research on catching empty shells. is that a thing. is that a move. it looks badass.

[audaciousamadeus]

Alpine science monastery

I wasn't the only one suffering through the waiting time mentioned in the bottom of my previous post. A native Genevese who lives in London also suffered with the consequences of EasyJet's greed. After parting our ways early in the morning, we found each other again sitting next to each other in our very late plane.

She had far more energy than me and was surprisingly social. To avoid having small talk, I started talking about personal issues and drama (good to do it to strangers, as there is nothing at stake and can be occasionally insightful). She said that when arriving in Geneva, her and her friends were gonna go clubbing and she invited me to come along. My sister in Christ, after so many hours waiting how is it possible that you have so much energy? Even when I have energy, I don't have energy for clubbing. At this point I was merely an empty shell of a person, so I politely declined. We did agree to see each other at some point in London though, maybe for a salsa class.

There must be truly no rest for the wicked and I must be Elphaba. Arriving in my hostel in Geneva I was met with an insanely hot room and I had to share the room with two strangers. I went to bed cuddling my backpack for protection and couldn't sleep due to the heat, so I doomscrolled until exhaustion. Maybe I managed to catch 2 hours of sleep before my train to Visp at 6am. Getting out of my bunk bed was slightly worrying as I was dizzy from consecutive days of sleep deprivation. The way to Visp and then to Saas-fee was so scenic it felt like everything was a postcard on a green screen at times. I stayed in a tiny flat that I shared with two other workshop attendees and had a beautiful view to the alps. Apparently, they shot the video for Last Christmas here, wowie. Good thing that I arrived early so that I could claim my solo room and have good nights of sleep.

After greeting the other attendees and lecturers, including my boss and some colleagues from the Slovenian part of the lab, we had an ice breaker session (most people were from Swiss universities, as the workshop has been subsidised by the Swiss government) and then the lectures and other activities started. I stood victorious against my exhaustion and watched even the chalk talks without falling asleep.

The workshop was divided into sessions for different aspects of RNA biology: processing, compartmentalisation, translation, development, localisation and modifications. For each session some of us were assigned to present and criticise papers that were previously chosen by the lecturers of each session. This made me expect that the course would happen in a more information-based approach. However, I soon realised the course would be more dynamic than expected and most of the learning would come from having to come up with projects and criticising the papers we had to discuss throughout the course. The course was like a huge journal-club and parts of it were actually dedicated to how we should approach ideas, both in creating them and discarding them. In the end creating a sense for these and for critically assessing the research of your peers (and your own) are just as important as having vast knowledge about biology. I have a feeling that all of us in the course had this shared conclusion.

One of the lecturers was a big shot from the field of the biogenesis, function, and degradation of eukaryotic RNAs. Throughout other lectures the others were basically sucking up to him. Big cringe. Hierarchies in academia are so annoying, as if it wasn't enough to deal with just the science you also have to deal with the social component of interactions between people who were most likely misfits in high school and didn't go through therapy later in life.

Interestingly enough the big shot remembered my name and continued to refer to it and to make me answer questions. People asked me if we knew each other from before (we did not). I had a feeling that it was because I was one of the few people that did not treat him as if he was a God. I can only hope it was also because I said very intelligent things but I don't want to be delusional.

I had to prepare my presentation with a PhD student from ETH Zürich. Upon further discussion about our backgrounds before actively working on the presentation, he told me that he was from the exact lab that was my second choice for my PhD back in the end of 2021. In a parallel universe we would be labmates! The PI of the lab he is in was kind and passionate, but seemed like he demanded a lot of independence from his team. Additionally, his intensity could potentially make me uncomfortable in expressing myself when it comes to science. When speaking to my current boss from London I felt comfortable discussing science, was offered a more concrete project, and was assured I would receive more support. Somehow, I intuitively knew this would be the perfect choice and that it would be the ideal place for me to grow even before we finished talking for the first time, which surprised even myself. Considering that I had just been through a traumatic academic experience and my confidence and sense of stability were shaken, these factors were my absolute priority to rebuild myself. Even with the crazy leap of faith that it was to apply for a PhD programme in London and to discard offers in Germany and Switzerland.

When we started discussing the paper itself, I could clearly see how much of a good match he was for his lab. He was extremely critical and vocal about it. Something about him screamed that he was very independent, passionate and intense about science, in a borderline unhinged way. It reminded me a bit of a Russian friend back from my Master's programme in Frankfurt. They are both born and raised Muscovites and both studied at the Moscow State University. I wonder if that's a pattern and if so, if that's a selected personality trait for that specific university or a specific social class in Moscow. Regardless, it's a trait I admire and aspire to develop. Feels like my most instictive mode of interacting with information is to just simply absorb it (and I am very good at it) passively instead of critically. I was reminded of that when hearing his extensive criticism. Always good to have a reminder to improve and we had a productive discussion.

On Wednesday we had a free afternoon in which we could've chosen to rest or to go on hikes. I would rest, but thinking that the opportunity to be in the alps wouldn't present itself again so soon, I decided to join a small group of crazy people that wanted to do the craziest hike around but to go even higher up than its official ending point. What could go wrong with such a great decision? Needless to say, around 30 minutes in my pressure was dropping and I realised the error of my ways. Luckily, I wasn't the only unfit quitter in the group! One of the lecturers, a woman from the University of Vienna whose expertise was in the ribosome heterogeity in bacteria, was also feeling unwell. We both told the group to continue going and found a resting spot 10 minutes later.

"Well, we're already here in Saas-fee, we should still see the top of the mountain..." She trailed off, with an unspoken suggestion that wasn't that hard to infer.

"Should we take the cable car?" - I suggested.

"Oh yes, absolutely. You know, I'm glad you're here."

"Me too."

We went our gleeful way up living our best life. On the way the topics ranged from the discussions within the field of ribosome heterogeneity, methods, academia and how it changed within her life time to more personal topics like her family, upbringing, motherhood in academia and other experiences. Getting to the top we knew we had an unspoken agreement to get a beer to continue living our good life and to patiently wait for the fit freaks to arrive at the top so that we could belittle them and say how slow they were. This happened when we were already at our second pint. She reminded me a lot of a PhD student from the lab that I was in when studying in Frankfurt. More and more I feel like I can have a glimpse of what kind of students many senior researchers were.

I briefly wondered who did I see myself reflected on.

The whole week included very productive coffee breaks, as I discussed things to do in my project with my PI. He was under great stress having to finish the application for an ERC grant and still had time to brainstorm for ideas with me and that fills me with gratitude. It also included however feeling some melancholy at times when I wasn't thinking about science. It should be illegal to be sad in the Alps. "Brat summer", I chanted beneath my breath, in hopes that it would fix me.

By the end of the week we worked on a group project in which we basically had to come up with a grant application, down to designing work packages and assigning students and post docs to parts of the project. We then had to present it - kinda felt like a Saas-fee's got talent. I thought this would be way more stressful at first, but even though in the final day we worked together until almost 11pm I had so much fun! Shout out to the people involved. These will be my peers in the future and I cannot wait to see what they will become and when will life make our paths cross again.

Going our separate ways at last, I headed to an Airbnb in the small village of Zeneggen. I spent the afternoon without one single useful thought, and decided to watch youtube videos that were not related to RNA biology until the time I went to sleep. It was marvellous. Finally some crumbs of rest.

Peaceful salutations,

Ms. Audacious

[buckyownsmylife]

My Mistakes - Henry Cavill Smut

The one where Henry Cavill was your married professor and he appears on your door one night after his life falls apart.

Warnings: smut, no actual cheating in Henry’s end (althought that’s open for consideration), professor-student relationship (the student’s supposed to be in the process of achieving a PhD), dirty talk (hello, it’s me), sir kink, praise kink, actually quite a lot of fluff because these two are idiots in love

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Henry? What are you doing here?”

Behind him, the rain poured in what would probably be the last summer storm of the year. Once in a while, loud thunder echoed around my empty house, making me jump every single time. Lord knows how much I hated lightning and thunder. 

His curls stuck to his head, some strands in front of his beautiful eyes that held so much emotion I couldn’t identify, but reacted to it nonetheless, goosebumps traveling across my body and my heart speeding up at the sight of my advisor in front of me, in my apartment, on a Saturday night. Granted, he had been here before, but those days of carefree conversations and shared nights where we’d bond over work to grade had disappeared the minute he said ‘I do’ and hid once more behind the shell I had worked so hard to break when we first met. Sure, I missed him. But I also understood the situation, especially now that he had a kid. He was someone else, he had new roles to fill and he was still getting used to his new responsibilities. I was just glad he still confided in me once in a while, allowing me to catch glances of the Henry that I used to know, the one I considered a friend. 

Still, it was probably for the best. I knew I wouldn’t have been able to continue our relationship as it was without suffering considerably, knowing I could never have him, now that he was married. When it was only dating I could deal with it, deluding myself into believing we could actually have something more, that he felt the same way I did when our hands eventually touched while sharing a bottle of wine. 

And there was that night. God, it seemed like a million years ago. We had managed to bring one of his colleagues to do a guest lecture to our class and the whole research group was in a frenzy, the relaxation after so many months of hard work and organization finally starting to hit us. They had all come here, to my house, even the invited professor and his students, and we drank together and laughed for hours. I couldn’t bring myself to care about the fact that I had an exam first thing in the morning, I was having too much fun. 

And not because of our honorable guest, my friends, or the new people I had the opportunity of meeting, oh no. It was all because of Henry. That night, it seemed like all his walls had completely disappeared, leaving a funny, breezy, touchy man behind. I had seen glimpses of this personality before, the one I assumed was his true personality, the one that he never showed to anyone, not even his wife or his mother. It only appeared when we were alone and he was drunk and something incredibly sentimental had happened, like when we had achieved the publication of one of our papers.

The last two boxes were checked, only this time we weren’t alone. But we might as well have been. He clung to me the whole night, even offering me scotch from his own glass before pulling me to him by my waist and wrapping his arms around me, warming me up from the cold breeze of the early morning on my roof. Daniel softly played something on my old guitar and in that moment I knew I would never love anyone just as much as I loved the broken, lonely, needy man holding me.

But then in the morning, he was back to his usual aloof self. And I was left wondering if I had imagined the whole thing, until suddenly he’d look at me in a certain way and I was right back to that moment, in his arms.

Yep. I had it bad for the guy. Good thing ever since he had become a father, we barely saw each other anymore. Whatever little meetings we had, shared cups of coffee and laughter, had vanished the moment his wife found out she was pregnant. It was cute, even, how dedicated he was to little Frank. But that also meant that whatever complaints about marriage and her, that he used to confide in me during those first months after they tied the knot, had simply vanished. They were suddenly the perfect little family.

And I was happy for him. Of course I was. All I ever wanted was for him to be happy, even if it wasn’t with me. After all, what right did I have over him, when we had never even shared a kiss?

Which is what left the whole situation of him appearing in my house in the middle of the night, during a storm, even more bizarre.

“What are you doing here?” I finally let out, rushing him inside. “Come in, you must be freezing.” He didn’t budge. Still staring intently at me, his eyes, that I used to be able to read so well, now indecipherable. 

“He’s not mine,” he whispered, so quietly I barely heard him over the sounds of the storm around him.

“What? Henry, you’re not making any sense right now. Come in, please, you’re worrying me.” Still, he didn’t budge. His tongue came out to wet his lips and I found myself briefly mesmerized by that sight, wondering not for the first time how it would be like to kiss him.

“Frank,” he spoke, breaking me out of my little fantasy at the name of his child. “He’s not mine… He’s not my kid.”

My heart stopped briefly. I knew my eyes had grown twice their usual size, trying to process that information that was so randomly introduced to me in such a weird situation. 

“What? Wait, are you sure? But…” My breath was coming out in quick, shallow huffs, the weight of what he had just shared threatening to asphyxiate me. “How are you feeling, Henry? Wait, that’s a dumb question… Just… Come in, please, let me help you. Let’s talk.” I reached for him, aching to feel him, needing to check his physical integrity for myself. That kid was all he had thought about for the last four months. I knew this discovery had to be killing him.

He shook his head, one of his hands moving his hair out of the way. For a moment, I thought he was refusing my touch and so I let my arms fall next to my body as I pondered just what the hell he was doing here in the first place. 

“You don’t understand. He’s not mine.” He rubbed his eyes and I felt a wave of anger wash over me. Of course I understood what he had said, I wasn’t stupid. The only thing I didn’t understand was what the hell he was doing at my door at two in the morning with this kind of news. “I have no connection to her anymore. To them,” he finally declared and I blinked twice, confused by what precisely he meant by that. “I’m free,” he proceeded, his eyes never leaving mine, still clouded with emotions I remained unable to understand.

“You were never tied to her, or even to him, Henry. You chose that life. You walked into that marriage with your own two feet,” I reminded him, my voice a bit colder than I intended. 

“True,” he admitted, nodding quickly. “But the minute I said ‘I do’ I realized my mistake. What I had left behind, and thought I would never be able to have anymore. And feeling that way… It was worse than any physical imprisonment, Y/N. ”

I had grown impatient by then, my fingers tapping a random pattern at the wooden door I still held onto.

“And what was that, Henry? What did you leave behind?” I inquired, sighing.

A beat. Outside, the storm roared, announcing its intention to stay for as long as it could. Inside, the tension was so high I started to wonder if lightning was about to fall between us, separating us for good.

“You,” he finally confessed and before I could fully comprehend what he had just spluttered, he had latched himself into me, his lips finding mine and his arms pulling me to his wet body. 

A gasp of surprise must have left me before I responded to the kiss, but the sound had been lost in the rain the minute it left my lips and his joined mine. They were cold, as expected, but softer than I had imagined, and oh, how had I imagined this moment. He kissed me sweetly, patiently, like he was savoring his favorite wine that we had shared once. His fingers trembled against my waist as he held me close and I absentmindedly worried about the possibility of him catching pneumonia when he, at last, broke our kiss to catch a breath, still leaving his forehead close to mine, his eyes closed and I suddenly realized he was nervous.

I shivered, not entirely due to the fact that he was freezing from the weather he had subjected himself to and had left me drenched too. “Henry,” I mumbled, trying to get him to look at me. 

“Shhhh…” He pulled me even closer, our foreheads still touching, his eyes never opening. “Just… Let me have this moment, please,” he all but begged, and I felt my heart breaking into a thousand little pieces. He was hurt, understandably so and he had come here looking for a way to make his wife feel the way she had made him feel. 

Another type of cold filled me as I took a step back from him, forcing Henry to release me. I caught a glimpse of his expression, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked at me just before I turned my back to him, hugging myself and trying to control my thoughts before I started crying. 

“You should leave.” I hated how my voice broke, how weak I felt as I murmured what my mind knew I should say, despite the way my body felt.

I heard the door close behind me after a few seconds and allowed myself to release the breath I was holding as I waited for his reaction, the tears breaking free by then. The first sob had just escaped my chest when I felt arms wrapping around me, a freezing body hugging me from behind.

He waited patiently as I cried, his face hidden in the crook of my neck, his breath tickling me and warming me up as I sobbed. I cried for what felt like hours, the anger of what he was putting me through subsiding and leaving me lamenting for this man who had lost his entire family in a few seconds. 

“You can’t do this to me, Henry,” I wearily breathed out when the tears finally stopped rolling down my cheeks, still not turning around to look at him, who still hugged me. 

“I know,” he confirmed, as he finally raised his head from my neck to rest it on the top of my head. I pursed my lips, wanting to leave him yet again but lacking the strength to do so a second time. “Believe me, I know, darling.”

He finally let me go, walking around me to catch my face in his hands. “You deserve better. So much better than this. So much better than me. You deserve someone who will admit their feelings the minute they lay their eyes on you because you’re intoxicating from the first sight, Y/N.” 

I couldn’t uncross my arms, afraid that if I let at least this last barrier between us go I’d crumble in front of him and let him devour whatever was left of me. 

“You deserve someone who won’t cower in a loveless relationship because they are too afraid to pursue the love of their lives, because they’re scared they’ll disappoint you. I already did. I know.” He sighed, his thumb caressing my cheek with the lightest of touches. 

“You especially deserve someone who doesn’t hide all the time, despite wanting to break free every time you smile or glance my way.” His eyes searched mine, trying to make me see the sincerity in them, but I refused to acknowledge it. This time, I was the one who refused to let him in. 

I broke the connection between our gazes, looking down. I heard his sigh, feeling its echoes on the walls of my heart. 

“I know I lost my opportunity with you,” he whispered, his voice laced with so much pain I had to bite back a whine. “But as soon as I heard the news, as soon as I figured it out… I didn’t even feel angry or sad. I know I should have felt miserable. In a way, I lost a son tonight. But all I could think about was that night I told you I’d be stuck in my office all night grading papers, when in fact I just didn’t want to go home and deal with Olivia, and you appeared with pizza and my favorite bottle of wine, despite the fact that I know that you had Smith’s exam the next day. You stayed with me all night, making idle talk that distracted me to the point I forgot I was engaged and that I had someone waiting for me back home. All I could think about was how that is how it should be. That’s how I should feel every night when I come home. But I only felt it with you. And now that I was given this second chance, this opportunity to go back to a life without the responsibility of being a father, forever connected to a woman I don’t love, I could finally have what I wanted. You.”

My eyes had closed sometime during his remembrance, lost in the flashback too. I had fallen asleep sometime during the early hours of the morning and he took off his jacket to cover me, as I lay on the sofa of his office. The same couch I had found him asleep so many times, as well. I still hugged myself, at last starting to believe he might feel the same way as I did. 

I felt a cold kiss against my forehead, one of his hands gripping my nape tightly to him before letting go. “But I should have known I lost my opportunity. You will find happiness in a relationship sometime soon, with someone good, someone who deserves you and I will be here, wishing you all the best because you deserve it.” I heard his footsteps walking away from me. I wanted to turn around, to open my eyes, to pull him to me and talk about this, talk about how I was feeling about this whole situation, but I felt stuck. And then I heard it.

“Because I love you,” he heaved and suddenly I was not frozen anymore. I was connected to him again, our lips furiously dancing together as I clung to him for dear life. He moaned against my mouth and I felt as if the flames of hell had come to consume me in that precise moment.

His hands slowly traveled down my back until they found my ass. He pulled me to him and I jumped, wrapping my legs around him as I caught onto his signal. My own hands were occupied, one pulling on his hair as I tried to win control over our kiss while the other supported me around his shoulders.

He wobbled a bit, blindly walking backward until his back hit the wall. He turned around then, supporting me against it as he once again disconnected our lips to catch his breath, pressing his forehead to mine once more. “Are you sure about this?” I couldn’t help but to slur, my fingers holding the edge of his button-up shirt tightly. “I can’t be just a revenge plot against your wife, Henry. I honestly don’t think I can take it,” I confessed, inciting the tiniest of smiles on the corner of his lips.

“Darling, you couldn't be more wrong,” he whispered against my lips, quickly kissing them before continuing. “I am the one who wouldn’t be able to live without you for a single minute more. I can’t remember how I lived before you, Y/N. I don’t want to remember it. I’d rather die than cause you pain and make you leave me. I know how lucky I am for getting this second chance.”

I accepted his words, not being able to deal with the separation of our lips another second. We were eager now, trying to make up for all the time we had to keep our desires in check. His hands held my jaw as he possessed my mouth and I clung to his shirt tightly as I tried to deal with the desire burning my lower belly. 

“I have never wanted anyone to fuck me this badly,” I admitted, licking my lips as he chuckled, caressing my cheek as he laid warm open-mouthed kisses against the skin of my neck.

“I have never wanted to fuck anyone this badly,” he confessed, biting in a particular spot in my neck that made my legs feel like jelly. “But tonight I think I will make love to you first.”

His eyes searched mine then, looking for any sign of indecisiveness, but there was none. I knew I wanted him since he first smiled at me, three years before. I kissed his thumb that played with my cheeks, nodding my acceptance to his proposal.

“I love you too,” I finally professed and he rewarded me with the sweetest of smiles.

Henry’s P.O.V.

I captured her lips again, not quite believing this turn of events. I finally had her. She was finally mine. 

We kissed feverishly, our hands never stopping too long in one single place. It was like she felt it too, this need to feel every piece of skin, of guaranteeing the other person was really there, was actually real. Before long, I felt her trembling hands make their way inside my shirt and I sighed, barely believing this was real. She pulled on the fabric and I all but ripped the buttons off of my work shirt before throwing it somewhere behind me and returning my focus on the exploration of the gorgeous woman that was now looking at me with those wide eyes I loved so much.

“Don’t give me that look,” I warned her, only receiving the cheekiest of smiles as a response and a growl rose from under my chest. I pulled her to meet my lips again, this time taking us away from the wall and into the old leather couch just behind us. I laid her carefully on the warm material, pushing away a few rebellious strands of hair that insisted on shielding her eyes from mine.

For a few seconds, we simply stared at one another, our eyes silently communicating what our mouths didn’t seem to be able to speak in the moment. She looked so beautiful, even more than I already thought she did, with her lips red from my assault and a dark bruise already forming in her silky skin from my bite. 

I had to take a few deep breaths to control myself, already feeling my pants tighten as the reality of what was to happen hit me. Y/N licked her lips, her eyes showing every bit the same desire I felt run through my veins. “Like what you see?” she teased me, earning a breathy laugh that let on how nervous I actually felt. 

“You have no idea,” I admitted, leaning down to kiss her forehead sweetly before laying kisses across her face, over her lids, on each side of her cheeks, on the tip of her nose before deciding to nibble on her jaw. She shivered, her hands coming up to my curls once again, holding me to her. 

I inhaled the sweet perfume that often overtook my senses whenever she was near me. It was like an aphrodisiac to me, it never failed to get me hard. Many times I had to abruptly leave her talking by herself to tend to my member in my bathroom, imagining my hands were hers.

“You make me crazy,” I confessed, my voice hoarse as I continued my path across her skin, now licking her neck, trying not to lose my mind over the tremulous moans she let escape every time I discovered a particular spot that seemed to get to her. “I didn’t know you were so sensitive.” Teasingly, I bit right over one of her collarbones, immediately regretting my taunt as her hands found the bulge in my pants and rubbed it. 

“I could say the same thing,” she retaliated, tongue stuck between her teeth as she watched with focused interest as I threw my head back and groaned. 

“Damnit, woman, I’m trying to make this last,” I tried to lecture her, failing spectacularly as she managed to pop my button and reach inside my boxers to find me, bare and hot, pulsing for her. 

“Not interested,” she raised her back off the couch, forcing me to sit back on my heels, as she took control of the situation. “I’ve waited too long for this. If you want to make love to me, as you say, do it quickly, I need you now.” 

It was impossible not to react to her. This sweet, bubbly woman, suddenly dominant and sure of herself and what she wanted. Fuck, if that didn’t make her even sexier to my eyes. 

Still, I managed to control myself, slowly caressing her thighs with my trembling fingers until I reached the edge of her nightgown, raising it up as I continued my path across her body. Her heavy breasts came into view, her nipples hard and begging for attention. I was quick to connect my lips to one, caressing the other with one of my hands.

She moaned then, her hands coming up to pull on my hair once more as she ground down against me and I groaned at the sensation of her wet panties against my member. I had half a mind to pull my jeans all the way down, take her to bed, do this sweetly and romantically like I had planned I would do if I had the opportunity to lay with her at least once, but she was making this too difficult for me. Her tiny whimpers escaped her lips freely as I changed nipples, slightly biting on one, making her throw her head back and whine.

“Stop teasing me so much,” she begged, rubbing herself against me once more, making the decision for me, as I couldn’t stand to feel her heat and not be inside of her any longer.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I heard him growl before I realized I had finally broken him. In a second, he had thrown himself at me, forcing me to lie down on the couch as I shivered against the cold air as his hands made quick work of my nightgown. When the sounds of his belt coming off at last rang in my ears, I couldn’t help the moan escaping my lips at the realization that this was finally happening.

“I wanted to do this nice and slow, take my time with you, worship your body in the way it deserves to be cherished, but did you allow that?” His voice was so raspy it kept reigniting the goosebumps across my skin, and as his fingers finally pressed my soaking wet panties against that spot that had been throbbing for attention, I felt like I could come right then and there. “Of course not,” he answered himself, his focus directed to where his fingers were now exploring. “Everything has to be done in your time, isn't it, miss Y/L/N?” 

Growing tired of the cotton barrier between us, he finally pulled it aside to softly collect the evidence of what he was doing to me, but didn’t make any movement towards actually relieving me of my needs. “Answer me, darling,” he whispered in my ear as softly as possible, but I knew that tone and it hid danger.

“Y-yes, sir,” I babbled without thinking and by that point, I would do anything to have him inside of me.

“Good girl.” That was all the warning I received before his member pushed its way inside of me, but as it provoked a whole new wave to pour out of me, it wasn’t as difficult as it would have been otherwise. Still, it took me some time to relax and allow his full length to penetrate me, as it was considerably large and thick.

I gasped as the head of his cock bumped my cervix. “There you go, sweetheart.” He smiled down at me, giving a quick peck to my temple. “I knew you’d be able to take it.”

I moaned at his words, incredibly excited about the fact that he apparently knew I had a praise kink. Maybe I wasn’t as cautious as I thought I was being when he complimented my work? There was no way I would dwell on this any longer, however, as he finally started to slowly thrust in and out of me, his little grunts and pants making me all the more horny.

“You’re so tight, baby girl,” he groaned, throwing his head back for a second, his eyes closed, giving me the perfect opportunity to admire his jaw and neck. “I don’t know how I managed to fit inside of you, but let me tell you…” his head had returned to my ear, before finding a nook on my neck and hiding there. “Now that I’m here, I’m never gonna leave,” he whispered against my skin, picking up his thrusts just as I started to need a little more from him.

“Good,” I managed to moan out, to which he chuckled. He continued to fuck me against my couch, permanently ruining my pussy and the fabric underneath us, as our juices slowly dripped onto it. It didn’t take long for him to bring me close to the edge, and I was trembling in his arms after a few seconds of feeling the head of his cock bumping against my sweet spot.

“Feeling needy, baby girl? Do you want to cum?” I struggled to nod, but it seemed to suffice him. “Then come for me, darling. I’m right behind you. Cum for me.” His thumb found my bundle of nerves and just like that, I was falling down the pits of desire. Throwing my head back, I pulled his chest to me, my nails certainly leaving marks across his back for him to remember me later on.

I absentmindedly noticed the sounds I was making, but as my walls throbbed around his cock, I was too far gone to care. Henry kissed the side of my face as I came until I was capable of focusing my gaze on him once more. As I did, I found him looking at him with a particular glint in his eyes, a look so soft that made my heart feel twice the normal size.

“Is it possible to love too much?” He asked, and I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came. Instead, he simply adjusted to be able to speed up into me, now fucking me into my couch in a way that made it sure I would never be able to sit in it without thinking about him again. I heard his groans of pleasure as he reached his own high, and I felt him spill into me as he did so.

We stayed connected as he calmed down. As we both calmed down, because my heart was still beating as fast as if I had been running a marathon. After a while, he kissed my shoulder and sat up, his cock leaving me. “You’re perfect,” he whispered into the night.

I followed his movements, also sitting up on the couch, enjoying how he immediately pulled me into his lap, like he couldn’t bear the thought of our skins not touching. The rain had almost stopped, I realized. No more lightning or thunder had echoed throughout the house for a long while.

“Do you really love me?” I found myself whispering into the quiet of the night. For a few seconds, he said nothing, but then he was pushing me away from his chest just enough so that he could stare back at me. 

“You ask me like you have given me any other option.” My giggles echoed throughout the house.

“I love you too.” And for once, everything felt right.

[capricornsims]

Strangetown Mystery: Lost and Found

Pascal wandered the deserted streets of Strangetown for what felt like hours, the darkness faded as the sky shifted into the pink and purple hues of dawn. Exhaustion had overcome the overwhelming feeling of desolation as he shuffled his way back towards his house.  Another day passed without Tycho, hope was fading, and the likelihood of discovering him alive at this rate was slim. Despite his pessimism, he knew that his child was out there being taken care of by his kidnappers. He passed by boarded-up houses, with families huddled in isolation away from the infection, he had other matters to worry about on top of his missing child, curing Strangetown of this monster would open the doors to the other mysteries in his life. Such as, Nervous. His mind had wandered for months about the whereabouts of his friend, only to be distracted by his research.

Pascal hypothesized that the bizarre plants connected to him in a way, after all, he disappeared when they made their appearance. His efforts to locate his missing friend yielded no results, but with the surge of infected people through the streets, perhaps he could find him among their ranks. Pascal thought to himself as he neared his home, the infected around him stumbling around the plaza. Through the haze of spores, he could make out an infected he had never seen before, this one must have just shown up. As he approached the sickly man, he could make out the dingy hospital gown he wore, the filthy socks on his feet and a signature mohawk. The infected twitched and gagged as it made its way closer to his house.

Pascal: H-Hey! Wait up! Nervous! Wait!  

Adrenaline kicked in as Pascal rushed across the plaza, chasing after his friend. He kept calling out his name but it fell on deaf ears. Nervous kept going past his home, twitching across the road. After a quick chase, Pascal managed to catch up to him, out of breath. 

With a shove, Pascal managed to get Nervous’ attention. He spun around on his heel, tilting his head to the side as large dilated eyes bore into Pascal’s gaze. His grin was unmistakable, stretching uncomfortably across his face as he slurred his words. Pascal looked down to see his joints stiff, his fingers clenching against his palm enough to break his skin. Overall, he looked worse compared to their last meeting, he was nothing but skin and bone and he had bruises all over his arm from what he could assume was a syringe. 

Pascal: Nervous... You’re alive! I thought I would never find you!

Nervous:  ŦĦ€ ΜØŦĦ€Ř ĆΔŁŁŞ ΔŇĐ I ΜUŞŦ Ř€ŞPØŇĐ

Pascal: Oh no you are not! You are not responding to that THING it will kill you!

Nervous: ĴØIŇ UŞ ĆØŇŞUΜ€ ŦĦ€ FŘUIŦ ØF ŦĦ€ ΜØŦĦ€Ř ΔŇĐ KŇØŴ P€ΔĆ€

Nervous stared at him with uneasy eyes, taking a step towards him with arms outstretched before they slumped to his side. Pascal gasped and backed up gazing at the shell of his friend, being controlled by the parasitic spores infecting his brain. His heart dropped as he watched Nervous stumble towards him, letting out gasps and groans, struggling to put words together before he leaned in intensely. 

Nervous: ŦĦ€ ΜØŦĦ€Ř ҜŇØŴŞ ΔŁŁ ĐØ ŇØŦ Ř€ŞIŞŦ Ħ€Ř

Pascal: Nervous snap out of it! This isn’t you! PLEASE!

Nervous:... KŇØŴ P€ΔĆ€... There was a moment of intense staring between him and Nervous, his eyes slowly focusing on him before he let out a breath and collapsed in his arms. Pascal caught Nervous’s frail body as his legs gave out underneath him. He felt him shaking as they embraced, tensing and gasping as he tried to control the thing in his brain. Pascal rubbed Nervous’s back, making sure he felt safe while he fought against the infection. Beneath the thin fabric of the nightgown, he felt the bumps of his spine, wherever Nervous had been kept he had been starved and tortured. This filled Pascal with so much anger but hearing Nervous try to speak snapped him out of his thoughts. Nervous tilted his head upwards and tightened his hug, smiling softly as Pascal held him.

Nervous: Pas... is that you? 

Pascal: Yes it’s me! Gosh, I thought I lost you for good. 

Nervous: Yeah, sorry I didn’t give you a heads up before I disappeared....but I'm here now. 

Pascal: * sniffles* Yeah you really are here. 

Pascal: A lot has happened when you were gone, I put your picture up here when you went missing...unfortunately no one knew who you were.

Nervous: Why is Tycho here...what happened? 

Pascal: *sigh* He was kidnapped. I have flyers all over town but no one has seen him in the last few days....it just fucking sucks. 

Nervous: I’m so sorry, Pas. I- I wish I wish I was here when it happened. I wouldn’t let Tycho out of my sight...

Pascal: I know you wouldn’t but let’s just focus on getting you cleaned up and something to eat. 

The rest of the day was spent with Nervous, the moments they spent together seemed to heal the wounds that formed over the course of the last few months. Nervous never looked happier to put on one of Pascal’s old sweaters after a warm shower. The look on his face when he sat down at the kitchen counter and ate through most of their leftovers was priceless. For the first time in a while, there seemed to be some sort of normalcy between them. Later that night they sat together in Pascal’s room, the empty bassinet reminding Pascal of the sadness he felt earlier, his face fell as he stared at it, sighing sadly.  He glanced over when he felt the cold touch of Nervous’ fingers brushing against his hand, intertwining their hands gently.

Nervous: Don’t worry, Pas, you’re going to find Tycho...after all, you found me. 

Pascal: I guess you’re right...I just want things to go back to normal. When you disappeared I was so lost, and I ended up getting into this whole mess. I didn’t know what to do with myself. 

Nervous: I was worried that you would move on...and find another friend. 

The word “friend” hung in the air as they got closer to each other, touching shoulders as they held hands.  Pascal: Nervous, I was wondering if you wanted to be more than friends. I’ve had this feeling for months and I was going to tell you before you disappeared. 

Nervous: Oh thank goodness! Finally, you asked! Yes of course I want to be your boyfriend! 

Pascal: You were going to ask?

Nervous: I wanted to but...you know I just got anxious.

Pascal: Don’t worry, Nervous, now that you’re here I’m going to work and find you a cure. 

A smile came over Pascal’s lips as they leaned against each other, hesitantly cuddling on his bed while they got used to intimacy. Nervous held onto his new boyfriend enjoying the warmth and protection he provided. For the first time in his life, he found the support he needed, the person that embraced him for his differences and provided the love that was deprived for so long.  Nervous: Don’t worry you’re going to be okay.

___The Next Day

Pascal: Another beer, please. 

Bartender: You okay man? This is your second drink, what’s up Pascal? 

Pascal: I’ve been having the worst time. I'm exhausted... the only good thing that has happened to me in this whole mess was that I found my friend. I feel so useless despite all the work that I’m doing

Bartender: Hey, it’s okay, everyone feels that way, and you’re doing way more than you need to. 

Pascal:... thanks.

Nervous: Hey! There you are, I was looking for you.

Pascal: Huh? Oh hey Nerv. Why are you so loud? 

Nervous: I just want to make sure you’re doing alright. You never had time to process anything that’s been going on. Pascal, I think you need help. 

Pascal: Just leave me here, the grass can help.

Nervous: I’m serious, you can’t just burden this whole job by yourself. I don’t want to lose you too.

Pascal: Okay...you have a point. I can’t do this alone anymore. I need to put together a team I can trust. 

( Note: ignore the fact that Pascal had a green shirt in one of the screenshots I took these last year) 

[rocksandrobots]

Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 43 - Finale (Pt. 5)

"Okay, what if we used some nitrocellulose and mixed it with an oxidized ethanol?" Varain asked.

Honey Lemon pursed her lips. "Uhmmm, wouldn't that just make the chimball explode?"

"Uh, yeah. That's the point."

"I don't know….It sounds kind of dangerous."

Varian and Honey Lemon hovered over the chemistry set inside Big Hero Six's new lab.

As soon as Chief Cruz and Megan had left the Lucky Cat this morning, Hiro had called everyone together to meet at their headquarters. He had to pick up a new set of armor, and he wanted to tweak everyone else's suits to help prevent Supersonic Sue from disarming them again.

While Hiro worked on that, Varian was taking this time to build himself a new arsenal of alchemical orbs with Honey Lemon's help.

"Relax," he said as he reached over to pick up a test tube full of some green liquid  "I won't throw it at anybody. It's just in case those robot ninjas show up again."

"Yeah, but you don't want any fire to accidentally spread." Honey Lemon argued. "What if we made something more contained? Like, oh, like what if we compressed some air inside the chimball?" She held one of the empty shells up. "That way when you threw it and it exploded, it would only hit the target with a concussive blast. There's no chance of that catching on fire."

Varian tilted his head in thought and took the shell from her.

"Yeah, that could work; on one of them. What if there's more than one? What if they gang up on you?" He asked as he poured the green liquid into the shell, sealed it, and clipped it to his belt.

"Well then we can just use the ice bombs to freeze them all at once." She replied.

"Yeah, I guess so." Varian agreed, and pulled out the liquid nitrogen to make the ice bombs with.

As they were finishing up this task, and Varian was hooking the last of the chemical orbs to his Saporian belt, Honey Lemon said, "You know this was fun. You should help out more often. Oh, we could go on patrol together or, maybe come up with new-"

"Oh no, no, nope, I'm not a hero." Varian interrupted as he shook his head.

Honey Lemon pouted at this.

"I'm just here cause I'm worried about Hiro." Varian explained.

Honey Lemon eyes went wide as she realized what Varian was getting at. She had been there when Hiro first found out about Callaghan's role in Tadashi's death; and she had been the one to stop Baymax from attacking and killing the professor.

"I don't know what good I'm doing though." Varian went on.

"You're doing a lot of good." She assured him.

"Am I? Cause, like, I'm not one to talk about 'being the bigger the person' or how 'you need to take the high road.' Honestly I don't even agree with this whole superhero thing. I mean, yes what y'all are doing is great, and yes, I'm all for helping Abigail, but… Callaghan…"

Honey Lemon mulled over his words. "But if we don't help, who will?"

Varian threw up his hands in defeat. "Yeah, that's what Hiro said…. but you didn't see him. You didn't see how much just having that one little computer chip destroyed hurt him…. I just don't know how this is all going to play out if we keep doing this."

"Are you worried Hiro might do something he'll regret?"

"No, I'm worried about what I might do." He turned to look her dead in the eye. "I can live with regrets, but I can't live with myself if something happened to him, or you, or anyone else."

Honey Lemon shivered at those words. "So you, what? Just want us to all stop?"

"No. I don't know. I just want everyone to be safe, and happy… And that's not happening so long as we have to keep dealing with Callaghan and whoever this Bosu is."

Honey Lemon lowered her head. Usually superheroing was fun. Even the more challenging villains were just attention seekers out to beat them, as if it was all just some friendly competition. Very few of the foes they faced were actively malicious. But there were times, like now, when it became very hard to ignore how dangerous their chosen hobby could be.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Varian laying a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, don't listen to me." He soothed. "I'm not a superhero, remember. What do I know?"

Honey Lemon gave him a small smile. "Well, maybe not, but you are a good friend, and I get it, about your concern for Hiro. It's only natural to be protective of your siblings."

"Siblings?"

Honey Lemon had to only laugh at the confused face he made. "Oh come on, you and Hiro totally act like brothers."

"No we don't….do we? I don't know how brothers act. Is it any different from just being friends?"

Honey Lemon snorted with laughter again. "Yeah, a little different. For one you usually don't wrestle for control of the tv remote with your friends, fight over who does what chores, or prank each other with megaphones."

"I thought that was just Hiro being Hiro."

"No, it's 'cause you live together, and have the same guardian. I don't know how to explain it, but it's just different with little brothers, that's all."

"But I… I don't know how to be a brother. Let alone how to be the 'older, more responsible brother'. And I doubt Hiro sees me that way, anyways. I mean, he already has Tadashi… had… I mean…."

He trailed off and Honey Lemon eyed him with worry once more.

After a few moments he whispered, "I'm not trying to replace anybody."

"Well, of course not. No one said that you were."

"Then why do I feel like I am?"

Honey Lemon blinked. What did he mean? Where had this even come from?

Before she could press further though, Hiro walked into the lab.

"Hey, we're heading out soon. You might want to start suiting up." He said.

"Okay. Just give us a minute to gather things up and we'll meet you in the briefing room." She answered.

Hiro nodded his acknowledgement and left.

"Well, looks like we'll have to save the heart to heart for later." Varian snarked as he scooped up Sirque's portal magnets and grabbed the controller he had built for them. After placing these in his pockets, he turned around and asked, "What do you think? Do I look 'heroic' enough?"

He was dressed in his full Saporian garb, complete with bandana and his usual goggles, and along with the new chimballs they'd just made, he appeared exactly the same as he did the first night he'd arrived in San Fansokyo. Well almost, he was slightly taller now, but only by a few inches.

"Hmmm… honestly Sparkles was right, you do kind of look like a bandit, or maybe even a pirate?"

Varian huffed. "See, I can't even look the part."

"Well I still think you'd make a great superhero." She encouraged as she straightened the collar of his jacket.

"Ha ha," he snorted, then more seriously said "We'll be lucky if we can even find the bad guys again. Let alone take them head on."

Honey Lemon refused to let Varian's pessimism get her down.  

"Well then here's a hug for good luck." She cheered and flung her arms around him.

Varian tentatively returned the hug. "Th-thanks… I feel more lucky already."

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

"So how's things going, Teach?" Sue barked as she skated into the makeshift lab.

Callaghan rolled his eyes in annoyance as he tightened the bolt on the portal.

He had been up all night assembling the frame. Somehow the pair of villains had all of the needed parts all ready to go, along with some pre-programmed software and a few prototypes to work off of.

Whoever this boss they were all working for was, they were clearly well connected and apparently had other people continuing his research in his absence. A Dr. Celine Simard had provided most of the equipment and had emailed him blueprints to her own miniature portal designs. They had only conversed briefly through a heavily monitored chat room, but it was a relief to speak to someone who wasn't as thick as a bag of bricks. Celine seemed like such a bright young woman. It was a shame she was selling out her talents to such an obviously unscrupulous organization.

Though he couldn't fully blame her reasoning… "Krei Tech, Government, the Black Market; it's all the same. They're all corrupt. Might as well go with the one who pays the highest."

"Even if they might kill you afterwards?"

"I don't look a gift horse in the mouth. If you play along nicely they won't hurt you. I would just take the money and passport if I was you."

Callaghan had stopped trying to reach out to her after that. One day this life of crime she was living was going to catch up to her, but he couldn't waste time trying to save her from herself. He had his own daughter to worry about.

"How's Abigail?" He asked as he stood up and put the wrench back inside the tool box.

Sue shrugged. "She's fine. Same as the last fifty times you've asked."

Callaghan walked over to the computer terminal, typed in some code, and read the read out that flashed up on screen.

"You never did tell me where you got my notebook." He said.

"Don't ask me. Those two boys who tried to bust you out yesterday had it. Where they got it, I don't know."

Callaghan frowned and opened his notebook again. He had discovered handwriting that wasn't his own inside, fixing his calculations and expanding upon some of his more 'out there' theories. He had assumed they were done by others in the villains' gang but apparently that wasn't the case.

He still didn't know how Hiro's little friend had come upon his research, but the kid apparently knew a thing or three about theoretical physics. The boy's new equations could potentially stabilize the portal, preventing it from breaking down.

He wouldn't need them though. Callgahn sat the notebook back down and returned to the computer terminal. He didn't want this particular portal to work.

"I'm about ready to perform the first test;" He said coolly, "turn on the power generators."

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

"Any luck?" Wasabi asked as he joined the rest of the group on top of a skyscraper.

"No." Sighed Honey Lemon.

"We must have scanned the whole city by now." Hiro said.

"What if this Bosu has the same bio-dampening tech that Momasake had?" Fred suggested. "He could have snagged it off her when she got captured, and handed it off to Sue and her grandson."

"That's possible." Gogo admitted. "Especially since they now know that we can track them."

"So what do we do now?" Honey Lemon asked.

Varian cupped his chin in thought as he walked towards the ledge of the building where Baymax stood, still scanning the city. "Baymax, are you able to scan for other things besides just bio-readings?"

"Yes. I am capable of scanning thermal, infrared, radiation-"

"Energy spikes? Like electrical surges." Varian interrupted.

Hiro walked over to join them. "What's your idea?"

"Why would this Bosu kidnap Abigail? She's not actually a scientist."

"Because she's Callaghan's daughter," Wasabi said as he pieced together what Varian was getting at, "and they'll use her to blackmail him into building them a portal."

"Exactly, and they've got to find a way to power it up. There might be unusual energy spikes once they get it up and running."

"So we, what, just wait around?" Gogo asked skeptically. "If Callaghan builds another portal and it's just as unstable as the last ones we've dealt with, then we might be too late to stop it from imploding if we wait till it's turned on."

"Yeah and who knows how much damage that'll cause." Fred agreed.

"Still it's the best idea we have right now; only we don't want to go chasing after every electrical surge in the city. We need a way to narrow the search even further." Hiro mulled over this new dilemma, then a new idea hit him. "Baymax, scan Varian."

"Wha- why?" The other boy asked in confusion as Baymax looked him up in and down.

"Scan complete." The robot said.

"I'll show you." Hiro grunted as he removed the chest plate off of Baymax's armor. "Baymax, show us Varian's readings."

The screen on the robot's chest lit up and displayed a silhouette of the time displaced teen.

"Okay, now show us his radiation levels."

The screen changed again to showcase a graph and Hiro pointed to one of the spikes that was higher than the others.

"There. See that? That's some sort of low energy electromagnetic radiation. Don't worry, it's non-ionized so it's harmless, but it's not anything that's been seen on earth. Not this earth anyways. I suspect it's from traveling through the portal unprotected, the same way astronauts risk GCR when they break through earth's atmosphere."

"Ooookaay… and outside of me apparently being a freak now, what does that have to do with anything?"

"Don't you see? If they turn on the portal it's going to emit that same form of radiation."

"Then we could track it faster and easier than we would just looking for any random energy spike." Gogo interjected.

"Yeah, but that still requires us just waiting around hoping that the bad guys do get the portal working." Wasabi said.

"Oh, they'll get it to work." Hiro said. "This isn't the first time Callagan's built a portal. The question is how long will it remain stable?"

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

Callaghan flipped a switch on the dashboard and the portal roared to life.

Sue shielded her eyes with her arm as she squinted at the glowing blue circle that hung in the air. The wind was picking up as it was being sucked into the void.

Something was wrong.

Suddenly the power shorted out and the portal shut down as sparks flew out from the sides.

"Blast it!" Callaghan yelled. "I need more power. These generators aren't enough. We'll have to connect to the grid."

"Now hold on there, sugar cakes." Sue interjected. "I thought you didn't want this thingamajig to work."

"I don't, but you've left me with no choice. Call that boss of yours. Get them on the line. I can't finish my work without a direct connection to the city power supply."

"Alright. You need more power? I'll get ya more power. Just hold on to your britches and sit tight. My… uh, associates here will keep an eye on you while I go out and fix this."

She pointed to the two ninjas who were stationed on the catwalk above them. Callgahn didn't know how many were in Sue's employ, but he had the sneaking suspicion that the abandoned factory was crawling with them.

"Okay." Challghan nodded and Sue skated away at top speed.

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

"There is a radiation spike coming from there." Baymax said as he pointed northward.

"How far out?" Asked Hiro.

"Along the river, about 20 mil--- the signal is gone."

"What do you mean gone?" Varian asked.

"There's no longer any readings."

"It must have been a failed test." Hiro said. "Let's just start following the river north. We may find something as we go."

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

Abigail paced back and forth inside her cell. Well it was actually an office with a larger window looking out onto the factory below but it might as well have been a jail cell. The ninjas threw her in here and locked the door behind them. She had tried to bust the door down, smash the handle, and crawl into the vents to escape. Nothing had worked so far.  

As she nursed her arm from her latest failed escape, she saw one of her captors coming her way. It was the big bulky dude on roller skates. She banged on the window to gain his attention.

"Let me out!" She shouted.

The guy stopped, turned to look at her, pulled out two earbud headphones, and yelled, "I'm sorry, what did you say?!"

As the man leaned closer to the window and cupped his ear Abigail groaned in frustration. "I said 'let me out'!"

"Oh, sorry, no can do! Nana said you needed to stay put until your dad finished working on the portal!"

Abigail pouted and hugged her arm once more. Well, what did she think would happen?

"Do you need anything else?!" The guy shouted at her.

"No!" She stamped her foot before turning away from him to sulk as she tried to rub out the soreness in her arm.

"Hey, are you hurt?!" The guy asked, suddenly full of concern.

Abigail didn't answer. Why did he care?

However, to her surprise the guy opened the door and poked his head into the office.

"Did those robots hurt your arm?" He asked once more.

She looked back at him blankly. "Robots? Is that why those ninjas are so strong? They're robots?"

"Yeah." The large guy confirmed as if barely acknowledging how crazy that sounded. "Do you need an ice pack?"

"Sure." Abigail replied dumbfoundedly. Seriously, why was this guy being so nice?

"I'll go get you one. I'm Stu by the way." He flashed her a huge grin.

"Abigail." She replied still dumbstruck.

"Nice to meet you. I'll be right back." And with that he shut the door again and walked away.

Abigail got up and ran to the door. It was locked once more. Either the guy was smarter than he looked or it locked automatically.

Abigail bit her lip in thought. This Stu person could be her means of escape if she played her cards right.

"I'm back." Stu cheerfully said a few minutes later. "I got you an ice pack and some Tylenol."

He opened the door and handed Abigail the small little package containing the pills.

"Where'd you get this?" She asked.

"Oh, in the vending machine down the hall." He explained as he wrapped her arm in an ace bandage so as to better hold the ice pack in place. "I didn't have any money so I had to headbutt it a couple times. I got a free bag of Cheetos out of it as well."

He finished applying the bandage. "There! Man those robots are so dumb. Not to mention careless. Sorry you got hurt like that."

Abigail plastered a smile on her face. "It-it's okay…. Uhmm…I don't suppose you happen to have anything to drink these down with do you?" She said as she held up the pack of Tylenol.

"Oh sure. I'll go get you a bottle of water. Hang tight."

He left again and Abigail got to work. She removed the bandage and placed the ice pack on the floor in front of the door. Then she took the bandage and tied it between two desk chairs that were seated in the office. She placed these further out in front of the ice pack; spacing them far enough apart the rope laid taunt next to the ground right at ankle height.

Then she heard Stu's return and she jumped into the seat; placing her hands in her lap and slapping on a huge smile to look as innocent as possible as he skated in.

"Here ya, gooooo-woah!" He slipped on the ice pack and stumbled forward.

Abigail jumped up, grabbed the water bottle in his hand to sling him around, and with a well placed kick, Stu went rolling backwards into the tripwire. As he toppled over, Abigail sprinted out the door, locking it behind her.

"Hey! That's not very nice!" He yelled as he righted himself and ran up to the window.

Abigail paused in her getaway. "Yeah, and neither's kidnapping people and holding them hostage!"

Stu looked stunned for a moment as he thought over her words. "Yeah, okay, fair." He finally admitted as he hung his head. Then just as quickly he perked back up and smooshed his face to the glass. "Oh, but Nana's not going to like that you escaped."

"Yeah, well, Nana's just going to have to deal. Where's my dad?"

"Uh, on the first floor I think. Take the stairs down the end of the hall and then turn left."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. Oh, but watch out for the robot ninjas!" He shouted after her as she ran away, opening the pack of pain pills as she went.

As Abigail neared the stairs she heard banging and the sound of glass cracking. She looked back and saw Stu slamming himself against the window repeatedly; and he was making a lot more headway then she had. She needed to find her dad fast.

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

Supersonic Sue was hooking up the last of the electric cables to the power lines when she spotted Big Hero Six flying towards the power plant.

"Looks like those do-gooders found our hideout. Better give them a welcoming party." She said to herself with a smile as she pulled out a remote control and pressed a button.

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

"Looks like there's a building up ahead!" Hiro shouted at his companions, who followed close behind, but stopped short when Baymax came to an abrupt halt.

From out of the woods stepped a robot ninja, who stood in their path.

"Yeeeeessssss!" Laughed Fred. "Finally I get to fight a robot ninja! My life is complete!"

"Be careful! Those things are deadly!" Varian warned.

"Oh come on. There's only one of it and seven of us. We can take...him?"

Just as Fred finished his boast another stealth robot appeared, and then another, and yet another, until the superhero team was surrounded by thirty or more of the killer androids.

"You were saying?" Wasabi snapped at Fred.

As if taking that as a cue, the robots jumped them and all hell broke loose.

Wasabi slammed the gas on his car and plowed through five of the droids, before hitting the brakes and jumping out as the robots dog piled the vehicle. He righted himself and whipped out his laser blades to start hacking away at the enforcers and the deadly shurikens they threw at him.

As he fended off the horde, Gogo skated around dodging their attacks and knocked the snipper robots out of the trees with her discs.

"Woo-hoo!" Fred shouted with glee as he bounced on top of robot after robot, just barely escaping their grasp as they lunged for him. "This is awesome! Terrifying, but awesome!"

Varian rolled his eyes at his friend's enthusiasm as he threw an ice bomb down below at the coming onslaught. He then had to grab hold of Hiro's waist as Baymax decided to do another barrel roll, knocking two more ninjas out of the trees.

When they righted again Varian's heart jumped to his throat when caught sight of Honey Lemon. She was several yards away, cut off from the rest of their friends and pinned down by one of the robotic assassins.

He shouted at her to hold on and Hiro drove Baymax towards her; only for the three of them to get jumped on by another robot. As they fought this new foe, Varian feared they wouldn't reach their friend in time.

Fortunately Honey Lemon was able to wiggle one arm free and grabbed a chimball from off her purse strap. She shoved it into her attacker's abdomen, lodging it in between some exposed gears, and with all her might she kicked the robot off her.

The android stood back up and started to stalk towards her once more, but suddenly stopped when the chimball ruptured and began to encase him in a pink crystal like substance.

Honey Lemon didn't have time to rejoice though as another ninja came up from behind to grab her arm. She threw another chimball at it and this time the robot let go and dubbed over as a shockwave from a small explosion sent the thing crumpling in on itself. Her concussive grenade had worked.

"Are you okay?" Varian shouted as they finally reached her.

"Yeah." She nodded as Hiro repelled another robot away with his electromagnets.

"I have found Supersonic Sue." Baymax calmly stated as he shot his rocket fist into the oncoming horde.

"Where?" Hiro asked, but soon saw the fading streak of dust traveling at high speed towards the abandoned building up ahead.

"We have to go after her. That building must be where they're keeping Callaghan and Abigail."

"Don't worry. I got this." Honey shouted as she ran ahead and shot down another wave of robots with her chempurse's bazooka setting.

"You three go on, we'll hold off the ninjas." Gogo spoke into the intercom before slicing off one of the androids heads with her frisby.

With that Hiro directed Baymax to follow Sue, only for them to be surrounded by a new group of ninjas lying in wait for them, just a mile down the road, even larger than the last horde.

"Where is she getting all these robots from!?" Hiro shouted in frustration.

"I have an idea!" Varian said and he pulled out the portal magnets.

Hiro saw what he was getting at. "Guys," he warned over the intercom, "Varian and I are going to use the mini-portal to break in, but be on your toes cause a new wave of robot ninjas are going to head your way soon."

"Oh you gotta be kidding me." Wasabi complained over the other end.

Varian ignored their friend's protests and typed a command into the portal's remote control. He then tossed the magnets into the air. With a flip of a switch, the magnetic balls began to link up and spin as a portal started to form in the air.

Hiro commanded Baymax to fly to it, and helped to maneuver the android to avoid the ninjas' attacks, as the robotic assassins tried to stop them from leaving.

They dodge one that tried to jump them, and Hiro kicked another off that had grabbed hold of Baymax's armor and was climbing up towards them. Meanwhile Varian threw one last alchemical orb at the swarm of robots as they flew into the portal. Hiro heard an explosion behind them, but ignored it as he focused on the upcoming confrontation ahead of them.

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

"Okay Callaghan, I siphoned off electricity from the city's power grid. You should be good to go." Sue said as she entered the lab.

"Good, now just stand there and hold that lever down while I turn the machine on." Came Callaghan's terse reply.

"Why? What does the lever do?" Sue asked in suspicion.

"It keeps the fan on the turbines going and prevents the portal from overheating." Callaghan lied.

Sue raised an eyebrow at him, not fully buying it. "You want me to stand next to a giant, untested, potential death machine that may explode at any moment?"

"I assure you it works, and I thought you could order one of your 'associates' to do it, but looks like most of them have left the building save for the one you kept on lookout there."

Sue gave him a death glare.

"Or hey, don't do it and don't get the portal working. See if I care. I didn't ask to get dragged into this."

Sue finally relented at this and walked over to the base of the portal and pulled the lever down. "Like this?" she asked.

"Yeah, just like that." Callaghan said as he walked over to the computer terminal to turn it on. Then under his breath, where Sue couldn't hear, he said. "Just like that you rancid cow; stay right there and be the folly of your own demise."

But before Professor Callaghan could turn on the device and suck his hated captor into the void, another portal opened up overhead and in flew Hiro, Baymax, and Varian; knocking out the one remaining guard as they did so, who fell to the ground in a crumpled heap of frayed wires and busted gears.

"Step away from the portal, Callaghan." Hiro ordered at him.

For his part, Callaghan did as he was told and backed away, hands raised.

"Why you little scamps." Sue said. She almost sounded impressed. "You got persistence and gumption, I'll give ya that, but ain't half as clever as you think you are."

With a nod of her head another ninja jumped from the shadows above them and grabbed Varian by his jacket collar.

"Seriously, where are you getting all these robots!?" Hiro asked.

"Oh, just from an old buddy of mine." She nonchalantly said as she made her way to the door.

"Kensei?" Hiro spat as he finally threw the robot off them.

"Ah so you heard," Sue said, "and they say kids these days don't know their history. Yeah, I thought the ninja aesthetic was a little hokey myself; Kensei's gimmick was always centered around lame karate stuff, but hey, who am I to judge?"

And with that, as quick as a wink, she tossed one of the now defunct robot's weapons at them. Only instead of the usual shuriken, it was a metal ball that opened up and released a weighted net that was difficult to dodge.

As both boys struggled to pull it off, Baymax fell to the ground below under its weight and Supersonic Sue tried to make her getaway.

Only to stop when Stu burst through the door.

"Nana! I am soo, so sorry, but Abigail's escape!"

"What!?" She shouted.

With this news, Callaghan raced to the computer terminal while everyone was distracted and turned on the device.

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

The ground rumbled and soon a heavy wind picked up as the unstable portal began to suck things into it.

Abigail wandered around the abandoned building utterly lost. She had deviated from Stu's directions in order to avoid running into those ninjas again. She hadn't seen any more of them around for awhile, but now she couldn't find her way back.

Suddenly the ground shook as if there was an earthquake. Abigail ran under a door frame for shelter and held on tightly.

As the tremor subsided, Abigail began to wonder if it was a natural occurrence at all.

Portals, that was what this was all about, apparently. The bad guys had wanted her father to build them one, but if he did, it could blow up in all of their faces, literally.

Then she heard yelling down the hall, as a wind picked up.

"Dad!" She shouted and knowingly ran towards the danger.

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

"Are you crazy!?" Sue shouted over the howling wind.

"No, desperate!" Callaghan shouted back. "I rigged this portal to implode in on itself!"

Sue looked at him as if he'd grown two heads.

"There's children in here, ya dang fool!" Came her reply.

"I'm not a child!" Varian protested as he struggled underneath the net.

Both villains ignored him.

"Oh, says the woman who attacked them with a bunch of deadly robots!"

"Oh please, their weapons were set to stun. I wasn't going to hurt a bunch of snot nosed brats... much."

As if to counteract this statement another robot ninja jumped out at them and shot a laser out of it's wrist right at Callaghan. The professor ducked out of the way as sparks flew around him. Then the wind from the portal sucked the android right into the void.

Sue, for once,  looked embarrassed at being called out in her hypocrisy.

"In my defense I don't know anything about programming robots." She said.

"Call off the bots, let everyone go, and I'll turn the portal off!" Callaghan said.

Just then the wind picked up even more, the net over the two boys flew off and Varian and Hiro would have been swept away into the nothingness had Baymax not caught them.

"Fine!" Sue relented as she pressed a button on a remote. "It's no skin off my nose if the portal doesn't get built or not."

Another robot, that had just entered from the upper level, suddenly collapsed and fell down to the floor in a heap as it was deactivated. Then it's remains along with the other destroyed robots got sucked into the portal as well.

Satisfied with her compliance Callaghan turned around to shut the terminal off, only for the computer to explode which led to the rest of the machine to catch on fire.

"Well what did you do now?!" Sue shouted.

"It wasn't me! That robot of yours must have damaged the controls!"

Just then, Abigail shoved past the doors.

"Dad!" She called to him desperately, choking back the smoke that started to fill the room,  and that was when Callaghan realized how badly he had screwed up.

Sue rolled her eyes. "Oh I've had enough of this! Stu, make us an exit! I'll salvage what we can here!"

"Right Nana!" Stu saluted. Then he revved up his skates, curled up into a ball, and basted himself at the concrete wall on the opposite side of the room at top speed.

He busted through three walls before coming out the other side and Hiro could just make out the glimmer of sunlight on the other end.

While Stu was busy with that, Sue skated right up to Callaghan and slugged him in the face. The professor fell backwards, clutching his jaw.

"Dad!" Abigail shouted again and ran to his side.

Sue skated over to the desk next to where they stood, or what was left of it. After finding what she wanted she turned to leave; only stopping long enough to give the murderous professor a sneer of pure disdain before skating away in a blur after her grandson.

As soon as she was gone a squeal of metal scraping against metal was heard. One of the portal's legs collapsed under The heat of the spreading fire and the gaping maw of the void turned at an angle towards the roof. The ceiling started to cave in from under the strain.

Everyone had to dodge out of the way quickly from the falling debris. One particularly large steel beam nearly fell right on top of Callaghan and Abigail, and he had to push his daughter away quickly. She stumbled back and was almost sucked into the void again until Baymax pulled her out of the way.

As the robot and the three humans huddled behind a concrete slab, Abigail tried to break away from the android's grip.

"Dad, no!" She sobbed.

"I'm alright!" Came Callaghan's call. "I'm just trapped on the other side!"

Abigail cried with relief.

"We're coming after you." Hiro shouted back.

"No, don't! You three get out of here! Take Abigail to safety."

"But what about you?" Varian yelled.

"Don't worry about me, I'll find another way out."

Soon they saw Callaghan start to climb up a ladder to the catwalk above.

"He must be trying to go around." Hiro said. "He'll never make it that way."

As if to confirm this, more debris fell from the collapsing roof, blocking their view of the professor. Hiro came to a decision.

"Baymax, take Varian and Abigail and get out. I'm going after Callaghan."

"That's crazy!" Varian protested.

"I do not feel that is a very safe option." Baymax agreed, but Hiro was already halfway finished climbing up the other side of the concrete slab.

"Don't worry, I got my gear! Just go on! Now!"

Baymax gave in to Hiro's orders and scooped Abigail up in arms. He then took off and flew away before Varian could crawl off his back.

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

Varian casted a fearful look behind him as he watched Hiro run through the smoke. Then as they made it to the tunnel he watched in horror as the portal fell completely and the rest of the building started to come down.

"No stop!" He yelled. "We have to go after them!"

Either Baymax didn't hear him or the robot ignored his pleas; too set on following his previous commands.

As they neared the exit, Varian gathered his courage and jumped off the robot and onto the grassy ground that opened up below.

It took a moment for Baymax to realize what had happened. He turned around to see Varian running back into the burning building.

"No! Don't!" Abigail screamed after him.

"Baymax, get Abigail out of here, and have the rest of the gang fall back!" Varian yelled over his shoulder. "No telling what the range of the blast radius of the portal will be once it finally implodes in on itself!"

Then he dove out of sight into the tunnel.

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

Hiro coughed as the smoke burned his lungs and stung his eyes. He searched for a way through the flames to the back of the former power plant, where the catwalk hung over head; dodging the debris that rained down around him. Then when he was directly under the service ramp, he used his electromagnetic whips to grab hold of the catwalk and pull himself up.

No sooner did he make it to the top, then did the portal fall down completely and along with it the rest of the roof.

A large hunk of the ceiling fell right on top of the walkway, snapping the metal railing into two. Hiro held on to the side desperately as the severed catwalk now shifted as it's structural integrity was compromised. Fortunately for him he had magnetic gloves on. Callaghan wasn't so lucky.

The professor went falling over the side as the ramp broke. He only just barely managed to grab hold of the bottom railing before falling into the void below. However he wasn't safe as the wind kept trying to suck him in and shook the broken catwalk ever which way.

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

Varian pulled up his bandana over his nose to block out the smoke. He also pulled down his goggles to protect his eyes. Still there was little he could do about the insufferable heat nor the falling hunks of metal and stone.

Somehow though he managed to make his back through to the former lab. As he entered the flame filled room the first thing he did was to look up. He noticed Callaghan and Hiro hanging from the broken catwalk right away, but how was he to get them down?

He spotted a ladder near the wall and next to it a long linked chain. He ran up to it and with a few tugs he broke the chain free from the pulley hook it hung from. He quickly wrapped it around his shoulder like you would a rope and then started to climb.

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

Hiro gauged the distance between him and Callaghan. It wasn't far, he could make it…. Or miss it completely and go tumbling into the void forever.

He gulped as he dared to look below him.

Just then the wind picked up speed once more and the catwalk bent under the force of the portal's suction.

"W-woah!" Callaghan screamed as he held on for dear life and Hiro himself gripped the railing beside him even tighter. He then threw out one of his whips to wrap around the end of the other catwalk leveling it somewhat.

"C-can you climb up?!" Hiro grunted.

Callaghan tried to, but failed. He was getting on in years and could no longer nimbly climb up the side of things like Hiro could. There was also the ever increasing pull of the portal to fight against.

"It- it's no use!" Callaghan called out. "Get out of Hiro! Save yourself! I don't want your death on my conscience as well!"

Those words hit Hiro deeper than Callaghan knew, and for a moment Hiro seriously considered following his advice and just leaving the man to his fate.

After all, there wasn't any obvious way to save him. Hiro would only be risking his life for nothing the longer he stayed. It wasn't murder just to save your own skin, not really, and well, Callaghan had brought this onto himself. All of it, the portal, his imprisonment, the fire…

Hiro gave the pathetic old man a cold glare; one that cut through even the inescapable heat of the rising flames around them.

Oh how he hated Callaghan!

He took a deep breath and retracted his magnetic whip, leaving the other side of the catwalk free to twist in the wind.

Still he didn't immediately turn to leave. Never taking his eyes off Callaghan, Hiro watched his brother's murderer flail about as he struggled to maintain his hold on the railing. Time felt like it had slowed to a crawl for Hiro as his mind was racked with indecision.

It would be so easy, he thought. So easy, and no one would blame him. His breath shallowed as he waited for the inevitable; his eyes fixated on Callaghan.

That's when Hiro noticed a foot fall behind him as the walkway shifted beneath him once more.

Varian was right behind him with a length of chain in his hands. The other boy said nothing, nor did he hand Hiro the makeshift rope.

Their eyes met and Hiro silently pleaded with him. Varian knew. Varian knew exactly what Hiro was going through. He knew the pain. He knew the desire. He knew what was happening, and he wasn't going to do anything to stop it.

It was Hiro's choice and Hiro's choice alone.

Hiro gulped once more as his heart pounded in his ears and angry tears stung his eyes.

No, Varian wouldn't judge him, but what about himself? What did he want? What was he willing to give up to get it? How could he face himself in the morning, or the next day, and everyday after that?

Hiro shook his head as everything suddenly became clear. There was no choice. Not really, as there was only ever one choice Hiro could live with.

He grabbed the chain out of Varian's hands and threw the other end to Callaghan. Once the professor had taken hold, both boys pulled him up. Then all three ran down the catwalk, slid down the ladder, and then dove through the hole in the wall.

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

As the two teens and professor ran away from the collapsing building, they heard an explosion go off behind them. Callaghan grabbed them both and pushed them to the ground; using his own body to shield them as best he could as the shockwave passed over them.

Out of the corner of his eye, Hiro could see the trees around them bending backwards till their top branches nearly touched the ground. The earth trembled beneath them and a loud noise that made his ears ring sounded around them.

Finally, once Callaghan had deemed it safe enough, Hiro sat up to view the damage. Below them was a crater where the former power plant had stood. Not a sign was left of the portal.

"There they are!" Fred shouted behind them and Hiro turned to see his friends running towards them.

Abigail was also with them.

"Dad!" She ran up to her father first and wrapped her arms around him.

Callaghan broke down crying as he returned the hug. He kissed the top of head, and held her close, before cupping her face in his hands and nuzzling her nose the way he had always done when she was young.

It was the first time he had held his little girl in over five years.

"I missed you too, Dad." Abigail said as she snuggled closer to him and wrapped him another hug.

Hiro broke away from the celebration and the cheers of congratulations from his friends, as he watched Callaghan and Abigail reunite. Instead of joining in their merriment, he went and sulked underneath a tree overlooking the spot where the power plant once stood.

They all gave him space, except for Varian who walked over to join him. The other boy didn't say anything. He just rested a hand on Hiro's shoulder and sat beside him as everyone waited for the police to arrive.

"I still hate him." Hiro whispered as tears ran down his cheeks.

"Yeah, me too." Varian agreed.

And that was all that needed to be said. Hiro didn't regret saving Callaghan, but neither could bring himself to forgive Tadashi's murderer; even after all that happened; and that was okay. One didn't need to forgive in order to do the right thing, and in a small way that brought Hiro a little peace, even if the loss still hurt.

Still he couldn't help but smile a little bit, in spite of himself, when Judy also arrived along with the police. Krei had given her a lift as soon as they'd received  the text that Abigail had been rescued.

After the two girlfriends reunited, Abigail introduced her significant other to her dad, who was overjoyed at the news.

As Callaghan pulled both girls into a group hug, even Hiro had to admit they made a sweet family. Enough so, that Hiro almost felt sorry for them when Chief Cruz walked over to re-arrest the professor. Almost.

"I love you." Callaghan said as he entered the back of the police van.

"I'll see you next Tuesday; on visitor's day." Abigail sobbed. "We both will."

Callaghan tried to say something encouraging in response but the words caught in his throat as he choked on his own tears.

The police shut the door, and Abigail broke down again as she watched the police van drive away. Judy hugged her and planted a kiss on her cheek, as she wiped her tears away.

"Come on, I'll give you a ride back to your apartment." Krei gingerly stepped in and gently encouraged the two girls to follow him to the car.

"And don't worry about coming into work tomorrow. Take all the time you need." He told Judy as he opened the car door. She flung her arms around him in a grateful hug, to which Krei awkwardly returned. Judy wasn't known for being affectionate, not to him anyways.

"Uh, yeah, don't mention it." He said before breaking away and walked around into the driver's seat.

As the car drove away Cruz walked over to the superheroes. "I got a few questions for you."

"Yeah?" Hiro said as he got up walked over to the police chief.

"Do you know where Sue and her grandson are right now?"

"No."

"Do you know who was funding their portal research?"

"No."

"Then what do you know?"

"Callaghan didn't escape. Sue kidnapped him and blackmailed him." Fred offered up.

"So you said over the phone, but why?"

"Have you heard of the new crime lord running things since Di was arrested?" Gogo asked.

"Maybe. Were they behind this? Why are they after portal tech?"

Hiro shrugged, "We don't know."

"Do you know who they are?"

"Have you ever heard of an old supervillain called Kensei?"

Curz's eyes went wide at the mention of that name. "I'm going to need you to come down to the station with me."

The team of superheroes was startled by that.

"Sorry, but no, can do, officer." Hiro shook his head as Baymax flew up beside him.  

"Wait! You're not under arrest; I promise,  I just need more information!" Cruz pleaded as the heroes took off running, their enhanced gear allowing them to move faster than his men.

Cruz took off his hat and threw it to the ground in frustration as the last of the supers disappeared.

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

Supersonic Sue watched from above as the police departed. She had hid in the trees in order to spy on the gang of do-gooders.

"What now Nana?" Her grandson asked as they climbed down.

"Now, Stu, we go weasel some, I mean 'get paid', some money from my dear old friend, and then we high tail it out of here and laid low for awhile till this whole thing blows over."

"But we didn't get the portal, and the professor escaped?"

"Now don't you worry, none, hun. Nana's got everything under control." She said as she whipped out her cell phone.

"Hey Kensei? Yeah, got some bad news about that portal you wanted…. Now, now, don't go getting your knickers in a twist; I got something that still might interest you." Sue chuckled as she pulled out the blue notebook from her pocket.

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

Wasabi pulled up to the gas pump and got out of the car.

"Do you guys want anything while we're here?" He asked the two boys riding in the back seat.

Hiro and Varian shook their heads no, and Wasabi left to go pay for the gas.

Once they had all safely gotten away from the police, it was decided by the group of teenagers to ditch their superhero gear and ride home normally.

Fred had called Heathcliff to pick him and the girls up, while Hiro and Varian volunteered to walk back with Wasabi to his car.

Baymax was currently in the trunk and had powered down into sleep mode in order to save on energy. It wouldn't do to have a 'drunk' robot running around the cafe on low battery, when their aunt came home.

Aunt Cass had texted them not too long ago to let them know she was leaving the hotel. Apparently Tracey's car had had a flat tire and they were getting a late start.

Thus far, on the ride back, neither boy had said much to the other. Each was lost in their own thoughts as Wasabi obliviously carried on all the conversation. It was mostly about opera as he had had the radio on.

Though without Wasabi's singing to distract them, Hiro started to grow uncomfortable with the silence.

"Hey, thanks, for helping out back there." He said.

"You're welcome." Varian replied in a tired manner.

"You know, I… I don't know what I would have done had you not shown up when you did."

Varian just shrugged. "Probably just save the day, like you always do." He then turned to look at Hiro. "I knew you wouldn't go through with it."

"How? How can you be so sure?"

"Cause, you're not me." Varian said as he looked away. "I would've let him fall. No hesitation."

Hiro didn't know what to say to that.

"I told you. Unlike you, I'm not a hero." Varian admitted as he felt Hiro's eyes on him. "I honestly don't know how you do it."

Hiro mulled over these words. "I guess… because I have good friends who support me and people to look up to. Who'll stop me from going too far."

Varian gave him a disbelieving smile. "People like your big brother I guess?"

"Yeah."

Varian shook his head. "Must be nice, having people around to help you when you need them. I'm not sure it'd make a difference in my case. I don't if anyone could have talked me down; not… not after what happened."

"Well," Hiro slowly said. "You never had a brother with you."

Varian nodded but didn't look at him, so Hiro contunited.

"Yup, it's a good thing my big brother was there today to help me out."

Hiro rested his hands behind his head as he said this and tried to act nonchalant, but he peeked out of the corner of his to watch Varian's reaction.

The other boy slowly looked up as realization dawned on his face.

Hiro smiled. "Thanks for being there for me."

"An-anytime." Varian answered with his own smile.  

Hiro held out his hand for a fist bump. Varian returned it, the way Hiro and Baymax had taught him to do it. Then both boys wiggled their fingers and went "babalala", imitating their robot pal.

They couldn't keep a straight face when doing so though, and broke down into giggles.

"What's so funny?" Wasabi asked cheerfully as he entered the car.

"Oh nothing." Hiro snickered.

"Hey, hey, Wasabi, how about a driving lesson?" Varian pestered.

Wasabi rolled his eyes. "After the sport's car incident?"

"Not me, Hiro."

Wasabi turned back and looked at Hiro thoughtfully. "Well, alright, get on up here."

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

Hiro was finishing tidying up his room when he heard the familiar tune of La Cucaracha blaring down from the street below.

"Hey, Varian! Aunt Cass is back!"

He called to the other teen as he ran downstairs.

"Ok, all I got left to vacuum is the bathroom rug!" He called after before switching on the machine once more. "Be down in a sec!"

"Bye Tracey, see ya later." Aunt Cass called after her friend as she entered the cafe and her friend drove away.

She dumped her bags on the floor and let out a sigh of relief.

"Wooh, vacation will wear you out." She said as she leaned against the door.

"Hi Aunt Cass." Hiro ran to give her a hug. "Did you have a nice time?"

His aunt ignored the question "Oh Hiro, how are you, sweetheart?"

"I'm fin- ... I'm doing better."

"Did you hear about Callaghan?" she asked.

"Yeah, it was on the news today. They caught him."

"Yeah, Cruz texted me about it."

She stroked her fingers through his hair and pouted. "Do you still want to talk… about… well, you know?"

Hiro seriously considered it.

"Maybe later," he said, "I talked to Varian about it earlier today and I'm feeling a lot better now."

"Really?"

Hiro nodded his head.

"Well, I'm glad you two can open up to each other like that, and be there for one another. I'm also glad you two didn't burn the house down while I was gone."

Aunt Cass laughed at her own joke and Hiro joined in, but soon he weighed in with one more question, before moving on from the whole ordeal.

"Do.. Do you still hate him? Callaghan, I mean?"

Aunt Cass looked at him thoughtfully before answering.

"Yes." She nodded. "Do you?"

"Yeah." He sniffed.

Both aunt and nephew shared a silent moment for their grief as they came to an understanding before wrapping each other in a hug once more.

That was when Varian came down the stairs to join them.

"Hey!" He greeted, before embracing Aunt Cass in his own hug.

He practically lifted her off her feet as he did so, and for the first time Aunt Cass noticed that her adopted child was now taller than herself.

"What?" He laughed as he caught her giving him a funny smile.

"Nothing, I'm just glad to be back home." She said before wrapping both teens onto a group hug. "Oooh, I missed my boys sooo much, both of you!"

"We missed you too Aunt Cass." Hiro said.

"Yeah, next time you should just take us with you." Varian joked. "That way we can skip out on chores too, am I right Hiro?"

Hiro rolled his eyes at Varain's teasing. "Yeah, anything to avoid washing your dirty socks."

Even Aunt Cass couldn't help but laugh at that.

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

"Such a happy family." A woman's voice said as she peered at the Hamadas through her crystal ball. "Pity, their time is coming to an end."

Notes:

And Finally We Are Done with the Last Chapter! Woot!

But that's not the end of the story.

Be on the look out for season two, Ghosts of of the Past, where we'll meet more characters from the Tangled series, new villains, finally learn who this mysterious Boss is, and gain a new member of the Big Hero Six team!

You can find up dates at both the Rocks and Robot's discord https://discord.gg/yfVVrXjFW8

[the-sympathetic-villain]

L’Appel Du Vide - Chapter 1

AO3 | Next | Masterpost

Description: Logan has been captured by a government agency who researches human with supernatural powers. Able to manipulate the world with his mind and tell what others are thinking, Logan finds himself in one of the most high security government prisons in the country that's run by a sinister Dr. Emile Picani. After several long months of deprivation and torture at the hands of Dr Picani, a devilish-looking man with scales on his face will break into the prison looking for Logan's less than friendly bunkmate, but will he be too late? Prompt by @LoganIsACoolTeacher on AO3

Endgame pairings: Lociet, Intruality, Prinxiety

Word Count: 2401

Chapter warnings: Injuries, Captivity, Blood, Talking about a person as if they were an object, Swearing, Attempted strangling, Emotional manipulation, Drugged person, Blackmail, Solitary confinement, Knocked out by blunt object, Violence in self-defence, brief mention of a gun, Threats of starving someone for their cooperation, restraints, crying, Unsympathetic!Emile Picani 

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    Tears burned at the corner of Logan’s eyes as he stumbled forward and hit the hard ground. The taste of iron filled his mouth as he sucked in a breath and spit the blood out of his mouth.

    Everything hurt.

    The cuts that covered his arms and legs were a burning reminder of the thick underbrush he’d crawled through in his attempt at escaping this nightmare fate. He turned his head to suck in a breath as the pain in his cracked ribs pulled a few choice swears from his lips.

    “Didn’t the doc say not to leave that thing alone?”

    “It ain’t alone. The skiddish one's there to keep it fed.”

    “Didn’t think that one was even still alive.”

    “Probably won't be for much longer if this thing’s half as dangerous as the doc said.” The man's voice paused as Logan turned his head and blinked up at the shadows over him. “Now, let’s go. The way this thing looks at me gives me the creeps.”

    Logan’s head dropped to the ground as his vision swam. His stomach clenched as flashes of the previous night played over again in his head. He curled his knees to his chest, groaning with a pitiful despair as his new reality started to settle in.

    It’s over.

    Everything’s over.

    Logan curled his hands up over his ears as a wet sob was pulled from his throat. The unnerving silence weighed heavily on his chest as he lifted his head to examine his injuries.

    Kill him first.

    The foreign thought jarred him upright, sending adrenaline flooding through his veins as he searched the room. He blinked furiously as he adjusted to burning bright, red warning lights. His glasses had been lost in the struggle that had landed him here and his blurred vision made his heart pound as he tried to locate the source of the voice in the seemingly empty room.

    Shit, shit, shi—

    “Whose there?” Logan called out as the voice continued. The silence was deafening as he scrambled to his feet, shaking as he took in the sterile, metallic walls of the room. A reflective, window of glass spread across the far wall, glinting eerily in the red light illuminating the room. Logan stilled, glancing warily at the two twin cots across the room obscuring his vision.

    “Come out, you cow—”

    A solid force struck Logan’s side, stopping his words in his tracks and sending him stumbling forward onto his chest. His attacker landed on his back straddling across him and pinning him to the ground. He barely had a moment to react before a thick piece of fabric was wrapped around his throat and pulled taut.

    Just hold still—

    The strange man's thoughts trailed off in Logan’s mind as his attention shifted to his own survival. His hands reached to his throat as he flailed, struggling for breath against the makeshift garrote closing around his throat.

    Panic flooded over him as he fought against his attacker’s iron grip. His eyes strained and bulged as he turned blue, just in time by for his true survival instinct to kick in. The air wavered for a moment as Logan felt his energy shift around them. The subtle change continued until the barrier finally gave way. In an instant, his attacker was blown back into the metal wall with a bone-shattering force.

    Logan’s breath caught in his throat as the world went silent. He lifted his head cautiously, pulling the thick strip of fabric from his neck. After a moment,  the shock subsided enough for him to rise to his feet and turn toward the sound of his assailant’s rapid breathing.

    The impact of the blowback from Logan’s psychic shockwave seemed to knock the breath from the man's lungs and his own pain seemed to hold his attention for the moment.

    The man’s unkempt, dark hair covering his eyes contrasted his stark white dress. Logan could see the man was abnormally thin underneath the hospital-like attire, yet it was apparent the muscles in his arms were well-defined, accounting for the strength and precise coordination of his attack.

    “Are you—”

    “—don't come—closer—”

    The man's voice rasped as his head lifted to reveal striking purple eyes. Logan froze in place at the man's glare, staring as the man seemed to flicker in and out of reality before his very eyes. He was disappearing, nearly invisible except where the red light hit him.

    He's like me. He has powers.

    The realization shook him to the core, nearly making him miss the sound of the heavy door opening behind him amidst the pounding of his own heart in his chest.

    “Now, boys. I would hope you knew to behave better than this.”

     Logan head spun on his shoulders at the chilling voice behind him. In the entrance stood a soft-looking young man blocking the exit. His brown sweater vest and fluffy, sandy blonde hair contrasted starkly with the sinister smile on his lips as he stepped into the room.

    An uneasy silence filled the air as a small, glassy-eyed man stumbled into the room behind him, shoved forward by the two guards blocking the door. The stranger's hands were bound In front of him and wore a similar hospital-like attire to his assailant.

    “Pat—”

    Logan startled as the man behind him jumped to his feet with a shout, stepping toward the pale man with glassy eyes swaying uneasily beside the guard.

    “Now, Virgil.” A dangerous glimmer flashed across the soft man's eyes, stopping all movement in the room. His smile widened in a sinister sweetness that turned Logan’s stomach. “I know you don’t think I'm about to reward you for attacking our new guest.”

    “What did you do to him?”

    The desperation in Virgil’s shrill pitch sent Logan shrinking back as the man lunged forward at the guard nearest the glassy-eyed man. Logan looked away, narrowly catching the beginning of the brutality of the guard. He heard a shuffle of movement that ended quickly as a sharp crack pulled a sickening shriek from the man with the dark hair.

    Logan lifted his head to see the man crumple to the ground, his arm hanging loose in its socket. He felt himself gag as the man moaned in pain, limp as the guard yanked him to his feet and spun him to face the man in the sweater vest.

   “I think you've earned yourself a few days in isolation for acting out, Virgil.”

    The piercing purple color of the man’s eyes seemed to dull as fear flashed in the man's eyes and his voice became unsteady. “Please, no—Doc, I'll behave—”

    “I can't have you attacking the others, Virgil.” The man's voice dripped with a venomous sweetness that sent chills down Logan’s spine. “I hate that you force my hand,, but my rules are for your own good.”

    “Please—” Virgil stuttered on his words as he pleaded with the doctor. “—don’t hurt him.”

    “You wound me, Virgil.”

    Logan watched as a sick smile spread across the doctor's voice as his hand reached around the dazed man's shoulder, pulling him closer. The simple touch elicited a visceral reaction from the man called Virgil as the doctor pulled his friend closer.

    “A mild sedative hardly constitutes harm to your friend. It merely makes him more compliant.”

    “You bast—”

    “Language, Virgil.” The doctor’s voice held a finality cut through the man's swears, leaving him shaking. “I assure you do not want to make this any worse for yourself.”

    The man deflated as his bravado melted away and his eyes fixated on the distant gaze of his friend. His gaze dropped submissively and he fell to his knees as the guard’s grip on him loosened.

    “That’s better.”

    A smirk tugged at the lips of the doctor as he tipped his head to the guard in a subtle nod. A fresh wave of horror filled Logan’s   chest as the guard pulled a pistol from its holster and brought it down on Virgil’s temple. He let out a whimper as the man's body went limp between the two men and quickly swept up over the guard's shoulder.

    The subtle sound seemed to draw the attention of the doctor.   His gaze turned from the guard toward Logan as if noticing him for the first time. The intensity of his stare left Logan’s knees weak as he started to edge back against the wall.

    “Oh, hello there.” The malice in the doctor’s voice disappeared as he addressed Logan. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced. What's your name?”

    “L-Logan—” Logan whispered, feeling shell-shocked by the doctor’s sudden change in demeanor.

    “Speak up now. I want to hear your lovely voice.”

     “Logan, s-sir.” Logan swallowed nervously, hating the way his voice cracked as the man smiled at him.

    “Sir's awful formal. We’re all friends here. Aren’t we?” The disbelief must have showed in Logan’s eyes, because the man’s sweetness seemed to turn to regret as Logan stared back at him. “I’m sorry you had to see all that, Logan. Virgil can be a bit headstrong at times and it is my job to ensure protocol is followed to ensure the safety of our subject. Assuming you can follow the rules better than your new bunkmate, we'll get along just fine. I assure you.”

    The doctor stepped forward and extended a hand to him, smiling as Logan cautiously accepted the unexpected gesture.

    “The name is Doctor Emile Picani, head of the government’s department of Preternatural Research and Otherworldly Universal Defense, or PROUD as others have come to know us." The doctor continued as he held his hands together across his chest. “As you are almost certainly aware, your stay here is permanent. Your friends and family will be notified but you will not be allowed to contact them.”

    Logan’s heart sunk in his chest. “You can’t—You can’t just keep me here forever.”

    “For your own sanity, I suggest that you accept that I can and will do whatever I need to ensure this program continues to run smoothly.” Doctor Picani hummed nonchalantly.  “You have been deemed a threat to natural society. Your body is a weapon that could be used to inflict immeasurable damage to the general population, and as such, any rights you claimed as a citizen of our great country have been stripped from you as a matter of national security.”

    Logan felt a lump in his throat aa his knees grew weak. He knew the rumors of PROUD but he'd always assumed there was a degree of exaggeration to the stories. The government couldn’t just treat people any way they liked.

    “On the bright side, you now have the opportunity to be on the front line of scientific advancement." Dr. Picani continued with and exaggerated excitement. “The data we gather from you and our other subjects has the potential to change society as we know it today.”

    Logan swallowed, crossing his arms across his chest as he took as step back. “What kind of data are you collecting?”

    “Nothing for you to be concerned about just yet.” Dr. Picani chuckled to himself and the empty sound echoed on the metallic walls around them. “However, I would like to make you aware of our introductory protocol before I leave to attend my other projects.”

     Logan managed a stiff nod, unnerved by the man's avoidance of his question but too afraid to press further.

    “You will be given three days of total isolation. No meals will be granted until authorized by myself personally.”

    “What?” Logan’s voice cracked as he looked blankly up at the unsympathetic smile on the doctor’s face. “Why—Why would you—I haven’t done anything.”

    “This is standard procedure, Logan. To condition a proper response time to my requests, I find it helps when our guests have proper motivation to participate in our studies.” Picani shrugged as his eerie grin widened. “Don't worry though, you'll have water. I don’t need you hitting the cactus juice this early on in your stay.”

    Logan’s heart dropped at the doctor’s nonchalant attitude. He'd feared the worst, but the flicker of sadism in the eyes of the man in front of him left him weak. “Y-you can’t—”

    “Perhaps, another day of fasting is necessary to convince you of your position here.” The man's voice dropped with a hint of irritation at Logan’s resistance. “The research we do here is essential to the health and well-being of humankind. I will not tolerate my subjects acting out of line.”

    “I—I won’t—”

    “Let me clarify for you—”

    The man snapped his fingers and his guard lunged at Logan.  He flinched, not quick enough to dodge the harsh grip as he was suddenly forced back onto the twin bed. A pained gasp escaped him as a heavy metal cuff clamped down on his wrist and it was yanked up and attached to the metal frame.

    “—the sooner you give up the illusion that you have a choice, the easier your time here will be.”

    “Wait—” Panic flooded over Logan as he rattled the metal on his wrist. Don't—Don't do this—”

    “A very wise fire lord once said that certain people are born lucky and others are lucky to be born.” Dr. Picani stepped forward, smiling as Logan froze like a deer in the headlights. “There are others yet though that I believe are simply lucky to have survived as long as they have.”

    “Please—I'll do anything.” Logan wheezed as his breathing became unsteady. “Don’t leave me alone—Don’t leave me—"

    “Consider this a warning, Logan .” The doctor whispered. A hint of a smile spread across his face as Logan lifted his head timidly to him. Dark shadows pooled under his eyes, made eerie by the glowing red light of the room and the manic glimmer in his dark eyes. “If you choose to fight me, the next few days are just a taste of the misery I can cause you.”

    Logan’s pleas tapered off to silent begging as his heart pounded in his chest. He felt the doctor slip away as tears blurred his vision.  The loud sound of the metal door drowned out the sound of his sobs as he pulled helplessly at his restraints, feeling the weight of the isolation already unraveling the already precarious state of his mind.

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Author’s Note: I hope you enjoyed the whump. Poor Logan’s having a hell of a day but on the bright side, the next chapter should be out in a matter of minutes so keep an eye out! Also, please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist as well!

General Taglist:

@justanotherhumanstuff @im-an-anxious-wreck @shadowyplaidpurseegg

[luxekook]

in too deep ☼ knj

☼ dedication: this fic is a bday present for the loml tay aka tay bay bay aka @interludemoonchild​!!!! luv u long time <33 (sorry this isn’t about hobi skksksks)

☼ pairing: marine biologist namjoon x assistant reader

☼ genre: idiots to lovers, fluff, angst, crack

☼ summary: you had always grown up being told tales of terrible jobs with tyrannical bosses. but now, you’re left to wonder why you hadn’t heard more tragic stories of all-too-wonderful jobs with all-too-beautiful bosses... did falling for your boss only lead to heartbreak and a two weeks’ notice? or could it yield the possibility of romance?

☼ word count: 3.1k

☼ warnings: pg15, cursing, chaotic energy, pining, miscommunication, mentions of quitting, lots of sea nerd stuff, namjoon is smart af but an idiot in love, the reader isn’t any better, crabby bois, arguments, completely cheesy fluff, short make out sesh, mention of sex

☼ banner creator: heathy bby @shadowsremedy​

☼ beta reader: the amazing and astoundingly talented phia @meowxyoong​

“Kim Namjoon!” You cry, swatting the blue-clawed crab away from your feet with a broom, “What did I tell you about bringing your goddamn crustaceans into the office?”

The man in question hustles out of his office looking disheveled, “You’ve seen Carl?” He sinks right down to his hands and knees to peer under your desk. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, little buddy!”

You stare disappointedly as your boss picks up ‘Carl’ from his hiding place and cradles him to his chest. “Namjoon,” You sigh exasperatedly, folding your arms.

He looks up at you and blushes, “Sorry, Star. I just feel so bad leaving them downstairs at the lab. It’s so lonely and dark down there.” 

While your stomach flips at the mention of his nickname for you, your eyebrows furrow in confusion, “Well, why don’t you just stay down there with them?”

“Because you’re up here…” He mumbles something incoherent. 

“What?” You lean forwards, your ears straining to catch the garbled syllables.

Namjoon clears his throat, looking everywhere but at you, “Because it’s nicer up here.”

“Don’t tell your investors that,” You laugh, thinking of all the fancy and shiny equipment housed in the aquatics lab a few floors below. Working for a top-tier marine biologist sure had its perks - namely the state of the art kitchen with a full espresso bar. 

“Star, I would never!” He looks affronted by the mere mention of such a thing. “Now, apologize to Carl for scaring him.” 

You scoff, but just one glance into Namjoon’s sparkling brown eyes makes you crumble instantly. “Fine,” You begrudgingly shoot the crab a look, “Sorry, Carl.”

“See, Carl?” Namjoon croons, “She’s sorry!” As he turns back to you, you can immediately tell he is about to launch into Marine Biologist Mode™. 

“Carl is a blue crab - a Callinectes sapidus, to be precise. That scientific name literally means ‘savory beautiful swimmer’.”

“Savory, huh?” You quip, relishing in the scandalized look Namjoon shoots you.

“Don’t listen to her, Carl,” He whispers, stroking a finger gently down the crab’s shell. “Now, where was I? Ah, yes… He’s named for his pretty sapphire-tinted claws, and he’s one of the most harvested species of his kind. So, don’t even think about it.”

You burst out laughing as he eyes you, “Okay, Joon, I’ll leave my pot of boiling water at home.”

Namjoon splutters out a choked laugh, looking at you like you are the most exasperating thing he’s ever come across. And, you probably are.

When you came to work for the distinguished marine biologist four months ago, you found him literally buried beneath piles of research papers, files, and National Geographic magazines. Apparently, he had tripped into his filing cabinet and everything had fallen off of the shelves onto him. The man had been a right mess. It was no wonder he had put an ad out in search of an assistant.

In your new role, you slowly but surely introduced some structure and organization into Namjoon’s life as best you could. The first thing you did was update his office. The man still had an honest to god lava lamp on his desk. You were still baffled at how he had managed not to break the fixture before your arrival.

Swiftly following the disposal of the cursed lava lamp, you ordered new file cabinets - and had them nailed to the wall. Virtually, you did even more. You restructured his online platforms and updated his schedule to include more than just scattered notes like “Meeting at 10AM, i think? Or was it 10PM?”

To his credit, Namjoon adhered to most of your suggestions and changes, but apparently he still refused to grasp the ‘no creatures in the office’ rule.

Overall, Namjoon was a great boss - kind, understanding, sweet, and a tad eccentric. His love for all things sea-related shone through the gentle way he handled his specimens, the passionate tone of voice he used while speaking on any related topic, and the stars in his eyes at the mere mention of discovering a new species.

It had been all too easy to become infatuated with him. Especially when he called you “Star” and left you to interpret the meaning on your own. 

You remember the exact moment that you fell in love with him so vividly. It had been last month, just three months into working for him. Namjoon had been going off about fucking sand of all things.

“…Sand speaks of history, of science, of travels. Each grain of sand holds thousands upon thousands of years of movement, of erosion. For example, the beach outside of this building is tan because of the iron oxide tinting the quartz and the feldspar to a light brown color. But, there are other beaches that are black, white and even pink in color! It’s fascinating! And to quote the goddess of marine biology Rachel Carson: "In every curving beach, in every grain of sand, there is a story of the Earth…”

Yeah, you are head over heels for your boss. And that’s why you needed to quit.

The end of the workday arrives too quickly - a common theme it seems when you love what you do and who you work for. Namjoon walks beside you down to the parking lot. You sneak a glance at his face and note that he seems deep in thought.

Your mind slips to the image of you and Namjoon going home together to a shared house overrun with fish tanks and models of sharks. It’s all too easy to picture, and all too painful to acknowledge the impossibility.

“Star,” Namjoon’s voice jolts you from your fantasy. You blink up at him, realizing you’re both stopped beside your adjacent cars. Namjoon smiles at you, “I’ll see you tomorrow? It’ll be Friday, finally...” 

It seems like he wants to say more but stops himself for some reason. You pause, waiting for him to continue, but he just blushes and brings a hand to the back of his neck bashfully.

“Yeah, Friday,” Your tone is less enthusiastic. You planned to hand in your two weeks’ notice tomorrow. It’s a complete strategy on your part so that you can have the whole weekend to cry and shove at least one gallon of ice cream down your throat.

You wave goodbye to each other and enter your respective cars. You watch Namjoon pull out of the parking lot before you and pause to rest your forehead on your steering wheel. You were so screwed.

Twenty-four exhausting hours later, you find yourself with your fist poised over Namjoon’s wooden office door. Are you actually doing this? Are you really going to quit the only job you’d ever loved? 

Yes, you are. You love Namjoon too much to stay here surrounded by his charisma and his beauty. You love him too much to try to complicate his workspace, his sacred ground. You love him too much to ask him to blur the lines of colleague and lover.

You need to leave - for his sake and for yours. It isn’t like he still needs you. He has been following your routine with vigor and always keeps his office organized now. Your tasks have been dwindling for weeks. 

It’s time to move on. God, even the tension today had been off the charts with you and Namjoon skirting around each other like you were both walking on eggshells. Clearly, he is also feeling like you are in the way.

With that in mind, you straighten your shoulders and finally knock on the door.

Your ears strain for any sign of an answer. Your breath catches in your throat as you try to sustain the meager amount of courage you had mustered up inside you. Twisting open the handle, you push the door open and are immediately met with an empty office. Damn, he must be downstairs.

You chuckle at the sheer idiocy of your panicked state over knocking on an empty office door.

This is perfect anyways. You can hand Namjoon your two weeks’ and then evacuate the building in one sweep. Shutting down your computer and grabbing your things, you trudge out of the room and towards the stairs.

The journey downwards seems akin to walking the plank as you take each step slowly, dreading the inevitable. 

Ciara has it all wrong: you do not love it when you One, Two Step. 

The entrance to the lab looms overhead. The steel double doors look more like the gateway to hell rather than a nice entrance to a marine facility. You don’t break your stride as you march through the doors. If you had, you might not have kept going.

The familiar light humming of the tank filters meets your ears as you peer around the rows of shelves containing colorful fish and scuttling critters.

“Joon?” You call, the nickname slipping past your lips before you can stop it.

“Back here, Star!” His answer sounds from the very back of the lab. Of course, that’s where the crabs are housed.

You make your way past the tanks of clownfish and the pools of stingrays to where Namjoon sits hunched over the shallow tank containing four green-tinted crabs. 

“That’s it, Nala.” Namjoon croons as the smallest of the four crabs swims around the tank, “You show your brothers how fast you are.”

“Talking to your subjects again, boss?” You can’t help but tease the man you've grown to love as he fawns over his work.

Namjoon blushes slightly and nods, pushing his glasses up to rest on the bridge of his nose, “Studies have shown that it helps them develop.”

“I thought that was humans?” You say, shifting your weight back and forth. The letter in your hand seems to burn more each second you hold onto it. You couldn't take it anymore.

As Namjoon opens his mouth to reply, you thrust the letter into his chest and say, “Never mind. This is for you. Please read it later.”

With that, you fast-walk your way back to the entrance of the lab. The sound of the envelope tearing open only forces you faster. Fuck, it had been idiotic of you to assume that he would actually listen to you and open it later. Namjoon is as impatient as they come. Of course he wouldn't wait.

“Star!” His strangled call startles you, “What is this?”

“We can talk about it on Monday!” You reply, somehow already close to tears. Why is this godforsaken lab so big? You pace down the aisles of tanks and breathe a sigh of relief as the exit comes into view. 

Then, Namjoon comes barreling around the corner, cutting off your escape. The man looks baffled as he clutches your written resignation in his hands. His chest heaves as he holds the torn pages out towards you, “What. Is. This. Star?”

You bristle. I guess we’re doing this now, you thought. Stiffening your shoulders, you muster all the false bravado you can manage, “It’s my two weeks’ notice, Namjoon. I’m sure a smart guy like you can read.”

“Okay, allow me to rephrase,” Namjoon stalks towards you, tossing the crumpled letter over his shoulder. “Why did you give me this?”

“The letter explains everything,” Your eyes dart around, both in search of a viable escape and in avoidance of his intensity.

“Sure it does,” He scoffs, his eyes blazing with disbelief. “I want to hear it from you.”

Your back hits the cool glass of the tank behind you. You’re trapped between the contrasting temperatures of the water and Namjoon’s body.

“Joon,” Your voice shakes, “You don’t need me anymore. You’ve done everything I've asked of you and then some. You’re organized. You’re on time. You’re put together. I barely have enough tasks now to fill a day, let alone a week. It’s time to move on.”

“Time to move on?” Namjoon echoes before barking out a humorless laugh, “I don’t need you anymore? That’s really what you think, Star?”

“Don’t call me that.” The nickname snufs out any trace of fight left inside you, and you plead, “Just let me go, Joon.”

“Never,” He growls.

“I don’t understand what you’re not getting,” You sigh, exasperated and drained, “You’ve surpassed my expectations and erased the need for my position. I think the saying ‘the student has become the master’ applies here.”

Namjoon gapes at you before he snaps, “You’re the one who’s not getting it! Have you ever considered that the student might just be in love with the teacher?”

Joon rakes a hand through his hair as you become the one to gape open mouthed at the frustrated man.

He continues, “I wake up earlier every damn day because I can’t wait to see you at work. I organize all of my things because I just want to see you smile at me when you notice. I spend an hour each night picking out what to wear the next day because I want to impress you… Don’t you see? Everything I do is for you, is because of you. I want to be the best version of myself for you.”

Your mind struggles to compute the seemingly impossible notion that the object of your affections returns your love. “Did you,” You gasp out, “Just say that you loved me?”

“Yes, you complete jellyfish! I love you. I am in love with you! And it’s not like it’s not obvious! I call you ‘Star’ because you are my starfish, my sea star. You are the one who keeps the balance to my ecosystem of chaos. You are the key species that keeps everything afloat.”

“And you thought that was obvious?” You yell back at him, “How on earth would I immediately have known the intense analysis behind your nickname for me, Namjoon the science buffoon?” You huff, scrambling to process the amount of information that had just been thrown at you. 

He needed you?

He loved you back? 

He nicknamed you after a fucking marine invertebrate?!

Namjoon blinks in surprise, “Did you just insult me with a Bill Nye pun?” You don’t deign to give him a response. Namjoon chuckles before grinning sheepishly, “Okay, fine. You make a good point.”

“I know I do,” You pout. “You can’t just spring this on me, Joon. Why haven't you told me this before?”

“Because I was nervous that you would leave me, that you wouldn't return my feelings. Obviously, the first point is moot. What about the second?”

“You’re asking if I love you back?” Your body sags against the tank behind you, “How could I not, you crab-loving, walking mess of a—”

Namjoon captures your mouth with his, kissing you with fervor. His hands wind their way up to cradle your face between them like you are the most precious thing to him. 

Pulling back slightly, Namjoon rasps out, “So, you’ll stay?” 

“Hm, I don’t know,” You crack a wry smile, “What’s in it for me?”

“Well, let me show you,” Namjoon replies before whipping his shirt off. You gape open mouthed at the expanse of beautiful tan skin in front of you. 

Was that a hint of a tattoo swirling over his left shoulder?

He reaches down to tug at the hem of your dress, insinuating he wants it off. A nice concept in theory; however, with one look around at your surroundings, you slap his hand away. “Namjoon! Not in front of the fish!”

“But, Star, these aren’t fish! These are squid, and they are classed as cephalopods—”

You put a hand over his mouth, “Allow me to clarify: I will only fuck in a creature-free zone.”

Namjoon murmurs something beneath your palm. You give him a warning look before removing your hand. He immediately repeats himself, “My office?”

Your eyes narrow, “I know for a fact you have at least three crabs in there.”

Namjoon pauses, looking suspiciously shifty, “There are only seven…” 

You wait for it.

“...teen.” He finishes.

“Kim Namjoon!”

Two Years Later

The short walk down the aisle ends too quickly as you find yourself standing in front of a teary-eyed Namjoon. Five of his friends stand behind him in a row, while the sixth stands proudly as the officiant.

They really are out here looking like a whole boy band, you muse. But, you only have eyes for their leader. 

Namjoon stands before you, all tall and handsome in his tux; and as Officiant Jin™ begins the ceremony, you can't help but wonder how you got so lucky.

Finally, the ring exchange is introduced dramatically by Seokjin who spouts something about circles and never ending love. “Let us now have the rings brought forward and presented by the ring-bearer!” He booms, raising his arms up like he is summoning a great force.

Ring-bearer? You rake your mind for a prior mention of a ring-bearer… You thought Yoongi as the best man would have the rings.

Suddenly, Namjoon produces a silver whistle from his pocket and blows it once. You stare at your soon-to-be husband like he has sprouted another head.

And then you hear it: the sound of legs and claws scuttling across the floor towards the altar. 

“Tell me that is not what I think it is,” You whisper-yell over to Namjoon, who looks way too pleased for your liking.

Your fears and exasperations come true as Namjoon swoops down to pick up Carl who has two shiny rings tied to his shell with a ribbon.

“Oh, Kim Namjoon,” You sigh as you watch him remove the rings from Carl and hand the crab off to a disgruntled Taehyung, “What am I going to do with you?”

“You’re going to marry me,” Namjoon grins.

And marry him you did.

a/n: jellyfish have no brains, lolz. idk why making joon call the reader a jellyfish made me crack tf up but IT DID.

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

[krisdreaming]

PART 1 | MASTERLIST | PART 3

˗`ˏ THIS IS PART 2 - IWAIZUMI POV ˎˊ˗

Pairing: Iwaizumi Hajime x Fem!Reader

Summary: After the accident, you’re willing to give up anything so that Hajime can live. All things considered, your memories of him in exchange for his life seems like more than a fair trade. When it’s done, neither of you understands what’s happened, and it leaves you both hurting. Still, even without your memories, you can’t help but feel drawn to him. He still loves you more than anything. Your love will find a way… right?

WC: 2.3k

Warnings: Angst, Hospitals, Non-graphic Accident Description, Mentions of Character Injury

A/N: Part 2 is here! I feel like I should mention now that this is an alternating POV fic, so every other chapter will be Iwaizumi’s POV, then reader POV, and so on. Also, just roll with what the doctor says here, because in true Kristin fashion, I have done no research on this and am completely spitballing :’) Anyway, I hope you enjoy part 2!

For the first few moments after waking up, Hajime assumes he’s in his bed. He feels brand new, like he’s just had the best night’s sleep in ages. It must be Saturday, he thinks, and he attempts to turn on his side and reach for you, to pull you close for just a few more moments under the covers. When he does, he feels a blanket tucked too-tight around him, restricting his movement. He finally opens his eyes, blinking away the bleary heaviness as he looks around what is not the room he shares with you.

It starts to come back to him in flashes. He was leaving work, sending you a quick text letting you know he’d gotten out a bit late. He was rushing a bit, because it was the night to go grocery shopping, and he knows how you like to get it over with. At the crossing, he looked both ways – he knows he did. He wasn’t even halfway across when he heard the screeching, and before he could even turn his head, he felt his body connect solidly with what must have been a car he didn’t see coming. After that, it’s all a red haze followed by nothing.

That does explain why he’s lying here in a hospital bed.

One of the first things he focuses on is you, curled up on the chair next to his bed, fast asleep with your mouth hanging slightly open. Bright morning sunlight is streaming in the window behind you, illuminating the dust motes dancing through the air all around you. There are tear stains tracking down your cheeks. He wants to reach out to you, but you’re just out of his arm’s reach, and the blanket is still stubbornly holding him back. Fumbling around, he finally manages to locate the controls on his bed and raise it to a sitting position.

“Y/N,” He finally says, and then stops at the way his voice sounds so hoarse and low from disuse. Just how long had he been lying here for? He clears his throat and tries again. “Y/N.” This time, you must hear him, because you start to stir, wiping your hand down your face blearily. Before he can say another word, his mother appears in the doorway.

“H-Hajime!” The bouquet of flowers she’d clutched in her hands falls to the ground unnoticed as she rushes to his bedside, a smile breaking across her face even as her eyes fill with tears. “This is – I don’t -” She reaches out and grabs his hand, squeezing it so tight he thinks he hears something pop. “Hajime, you’re awake!” She says it like it’s some kind of wonder.

He frowns. “Mom? What happened?”

She flashes another teary smile. “Honey, there was an accident. A bad one, and, well… the doctors told us it wasn’t looking so good,” She admits almost apologetically, “But now you’re awake, so it doesn’t matter! I-” She stops, and he notices her gaze shift to somewhere behind him. “Y/N?”

In the flurry of his mother’s entrance, he’d almost forgotten you were here. He turns to you, expecting to see a smile on your face like the one that had been on his mother’s, but what he sees instead is a wide-eyed stare.

“I’m sorry,” You breathe out suddenly, “But – can you tell me where I am?” You’re looking from his mother to him, brow furrowed, your fingers twisting together in your lap. He instantly recognizes your nervous habit in the familiar motion.

“Y/N…” He reaches out to you, but you shrink away from his hand. He pulls it back quickly, balling it into a fist and resting it back in his lap.

“We’re at the hospital,” His mother says in the gentle tone she used to use when he was sick in elementary school. “Honey, don’t you remember? Hajime – the accident.”

“I’m sorry, no.” You shake your head. “Hajime?” You say his name hesitantly, and it sends a crawling sensation down his spine. He doesn’t like it. “That’s you? Um. Well, I’m sorry to hear that you were in an accident.” You offer a weak half-smile. “But that doesn’t really explain why I’m here. Or how you know my name.”

He looks to his mother who looks just as baffled as he feels. She opens her mouth, but before she can say a word, a nurse steps into the room, and at the sight of him immediately turns to call out into the hallway. It isn’t long before a doctor rushes into the room behind her.

“This is incredible!” The doctor is at his side then, his poking and prodding interspersed with exclamations under his breath. You’re still sitting there, watching the commotion with an almost dazed look on your face.

“How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?” The doctor finally asks. Hajime has a growing ache in his chest, but he’s fairly certain that has little to do with having been hit by a car, so he shakes his head. “Amazing.” The doctor scribbles something on his clipboard, then looks to the three of them with a broad smile on his face. “Well, I certainly can’t give any kind of explanation for it, but you seem to have made a full recovery overnight.”

Finally, Hajime’s mother manages to catch the doctor’s attention. “Pardon me, doctor, but Y/N…” She has rounded the bed to stand next to you, and gently presses her hand at your elbow. Your brow is still puckered in confusion, and he wants more than anything to lean forward and kiss it smooth. Something on your face stops him.

“Hm?” The doctor is at your side then.

“Please, I just want to know why I’m here,” You say to him in a small voice. He looks at you with a slight frown.

“Y/N-san, you’ve had a very long week. It isn’t completely surprising for things to seem a little jumbled to you right now. Tell me, are you feeling okay? Does your head hurt?” He pauses to peer into your eyes. “Hm.” He hums again after you shake your head.

“I feel fine. I just want to know what I’m doing here!” You say again, your frustration clearly building.

“It seems you have a slight case of amnesia, Y/N. It’s rare, but it can be brought on by traumatic events. It will be best if you take some time to rest and relax.” He turns to Hajime’s mother. “I’m sorry, but at this point there’s not much else that I can do for her. Please, if this does continue, be sure that she sees someone.” His mother nods, even though she doesn’t look very reassured. With a brusque nod in return and a promise to order some tests for Hajime, the doctor bustles out of the room.

“I think I know you.” You finally say. Hajime lets out a relieved sigh before realizing that you’re looking at his mother. “You were… one of my high school friends’ mothers? Right? You just seem so familiar.” You rub your hand across your forehead, squeezing your eyes shut as though trying to coax out some kind of memory.

“Y/N-”

Before his mother can say another word, Hajime cuts in. “Are you being serioius? She’s my mother, Y/N. We’re engaged! Why – how can you not remember that?” He’s breathing heavily now after the small outburst, and watches as your face crumples.

“Hajime.” His mother warns under her breath.

“We’re what?” You ask softly, and seem to notice the ring on your finger for the first time. You’re looking down at it so intently that he thinks that, surely, something must be falling into place in your mind. When you look up at him again, there are tears in your eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” It comes out choked, “But I just don’t know you. Not at all. Not even a little bit. I don’t – I don’t understand!” Your voice is chirping higher into hysteria, and he instantly regrets raising his voice.

“I’m sorry. Y/N, I’m sorry. We’ll figure this out. We’ll take you home and let you rest. It’ll all be okay!” He reaches out and this time you let him take your hand. He gives it a squeeze, but you don’t return it. The tears are slipping down your cheeks again, following the same path the others must have. The ones you’d shed when he was still asleep. When you still remembered who he was.

“Where do you live, honey?” His mother asks tentatively, most likely as a diversion, and you let go of his hand. His fingers linger empty in the air for a few moments before he withdraws his hand back to his lap. The address you rattle off is the same address as the apartment he shares with you. His mouth falls open.

“Okay.” His mother nods. “Yes, that’s a good sign. Isn’t it? If you’ll wait here for just a bit longer, we’ll take you there.” Her promise seems to placate you, and you nod slowly, swiping at the tears on your cheeks.

The remainder of the morning and the majority of the afternoon are filled with more poking, prodding, and testing than Hajime ever hopes to endure again. Finally, he’s released from the hospital with what the doctor terms an ‘impeccable bill of health’. You’ve stuck around through it all, the expression on your face looking more shell shocked than anything. You seem relieved that it’s finally time to go.

Back at the apartment, Hajime should feel relieved to be home. Instead, the pit in his stomach is only growing heavier as he watches you standing awkwardly across from him. His mother has made sure that you’re comfortable here and ducked out, so the two of you are left alone in the doorway. He watches as your eyes track all around the area, then settle on his old pair of running shoes sitting neatly by the door.

“Those are yours,” You say in a low voice, motioning toward the sneakers.

“Yeah, they are,” He clears his throat, “Y/N…” He isn’t sure what he wants to say.

“This is my apartment.” You say before he can form a sentence. Our apartment, he corrects fiercely in his mind, but the words don’t make it out past his clenched teeth. You’re moving further into the kitchen, and he follows after you numbly. “This is my table,” Your fingertips skim the top of the small table the two of you eat breakfast at every morning. “And my stove and refrigerator. How – I-” You stop and shake your head, looking him straight in the face.

He isn’t ready for it. It’s unmistakably you who’s looking into his eyes, but there’s something missing from your gaze that makes everything inside of him want to turn away. “I don’t know,” He says softly. “I wish I did. But…” He lets it trail off. All he can offer you is a helpless shrug. 

Your attention soon shifts to the whiteboard hanging on the fridge, and he sees that you hadn’t touched it since before the accident. It’s a makeshift grocery list, your idea, and the last item on it is apples written in his own firm script. On the other side of the board is the simple countdown you’d diligently updated every day. Right now, it reads 298 days ‘til the wedding ♡. As if that weren’t bad enough, right below that, he sees the note he’d scribbled the morning before your big interview four months ago. You had told him it was so adorable you couldn’t possibly erase it: Good luck Y/N, you’re going to kill it! I love you so much - Hajime

Slowly, you walk to the refrigerator and look at the words, your fingertips hovering just above them. You spend so long staring at it that he almost reaches out to touch your elbow to get your attention. Before he can, you turn to him, and he sees that there are tears filling your eyes again.

“This is our home,” He says finally, forcing the words past the lump in his throat, “We’ve lived here for almost two years now. Together.”

“I believe you,” You say quietly, “How can I not? The evidence is right in front of my face.” You gesture at the white board, then to the door where his shoes are propped. “Only… it doesn’t mean a thing to me. Anything in my head that might lead to you – it just doesn’t.” Your voice breaks then, and your words start coming out watery, “I can see the pain all written across your face even though I can tell you’re trying to hide it, but I can’t even remember what you said your name is!”

“It’s Hajime,” He says after a beat, “Iwaizumi Hajime. And-” For a second he debates whether he should even say it, but the words are already crawling up his throat,  aching to be said. “And I love you, Y/N. So much. Even if you can’t remember anything else, I want you to know that.”

You give him a look that’s almost tender. You lift your hand, toying gently with the ring as you avert your gaze down at it. “And it’s not hard to see that I must love you,” You say softly, almost as though you’re talking to the ring and not to him.

“Maybe we should get to bed,” You say suddenly, reaching out and brushing your fingers down his hand for a fraction of a second, almost experimentally, “And in the morning, maybe we’ll wake up and find that this whole thing has been nothing more than a horrible nightmare.” You nod firmly, as if trying to will it into being. “And I’ll sleep on the futon in the spare room, yeah?” You muster up a smile that he knows is just for his benefit.

The last thing he wants to do is nod, but he feels his head moving on its own.

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[mystical-flute]

Uncharted Waters (chapt. 2)

Also on AO3 || Ko-Fi

Something was poking her.

She groaned heavily against her pillow, the reality of what had transpired the previous night beginning to flood back to her.

Right. She was no longer in Alabasta. She was in Domino and the creator of Duel Monsters had sucked her grandfather’s soul out of his body. Because that was apparently now a thing that happened in Domino.

She wanted to fall back asleep and pretend this wasn’t happening, but something continued to poke her arm.

Reika didn’t bother lifting her head from her pillow as she spoke. “Yugi, I swear to God the shop better be on fire.”

“I just wanted to say hi before I went to school,” came her cousin’s soft voice.

Slowly, she raised her head, tired brown eyes meeting the wide violet of the figure hovering over her bed.

“Hi.” Her face dropped back into the comforting darkness.

“How was your flight? What time did you get in? Did you bring any souvenirs from California?” Yugi asked, and Reika realized she would not be getting any more sleep.

He only babbled like this when he was nervous.

So Reika took a deep breath and hauled herself into a sitting position, gesturing for Yugi to sit next to her before yawning and shaking out her hair.

“Three-thirty. It was fine. Mostly empty. Tried to sleep, didn’t get much of it,” she rattled off. “And no, I left too quickly to grab anything. Sorry. But what’s on your mind?”

“Pegasus and his tournament,” Yugi admitted. “I’m leaving tomorrow, but none of my friends can come with me.”

“Friends? You’ve made more friends other than Téa?”

“Yeah! A few of them, actually. My wish on the puzzle came true!”

“Yugi, that’s great!” she said, hugging him. “You worked on that thing for years, I would hope it would hold up its end of the bargain with how long it took.”

Yugi looked down at it, a nervous look crossing his features. “I think it has something to do with why Pegasus took grandpa’s soul.”

“I think that sounds plausible. I guess those stories Grandpa told us weren’t just bedtime stories after all,” she said with a sigh, looking at her bracelet. “It’s pretty insane to think about though, isn’t it? Ancient Egyptian magic being real, and all.”

“Yeah,” Yugi frowned, looking between the bracelet on her wrist and the puzzle around his neck. “Do you think they’re dangerous?”

“I think if they are, it’s nothing we can’t handle,” she said with a small smile. “But if it makes you feel any better, I’ll try to research what I can about the items while you’re at school.”

“You will?”

She nodded. “Of course. It’s important to know why someone would want to harm us. And if we figure out the secrets of these objects… maybe we can beat Pegasus at his own twisted game.”

“I hope so. If I don’t make it to the finals and win - ”

“Hey, no, don’t think like that. You have something Pegasus doesn’t.”

“What’s that?”

She poked his chest with a grin. “Heart. And a support network that’s going to be watching your duels and cheering you on, even if we’re miles apart.”

“Yugi! Are you ready for school?” Téa suddenly called.

“You’d better hurry. Don’t want to be late.”

He nodded, and she followed him downstairs.

“Oh! I’m surprised to see you up already, sweetheart,” Aunt Kumi said. “I would have thought you’d want to get more rest.”

“It’s okay, Aunt Kumi. My internal clock is still out of alignment from the time change,” she replied, giving her a hug before looking over at Téa. “It’s good to see you again, Téa.”

She grinned. “Hi Reika! I have so many questions for you about America!”

“I’d be happy to answer whatever you want to know when you get back from school.”

Yugi looked up at the clock and blanched, grabbing Téa’s hand and pulling her out the door with a shouted goodbye.

Kumi shook her head in amusement as the duo headed back into the apartment. “He’s really blossomed over the past few months. I’m proud of him. And to be invited to a tournament hosted by Maximillion Pegasus himself! It’s quite exciting.”

Reika smiled a little, wondering just how much her aunt was aware of everything that had happened. “It’s good to see him out of his shell like this. I think I’m going to take a shower and then head to the hospital, Aunt Kumi.”

“Don’t forget to get something to eat before you go,” Kumi said, frowning a little.

She paused as she pulled a towel out of the closet. “Right. I think I’ll just grab a breakfast bar and a thermos of coffee.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to make you something else? I made omurice for Yugi and I today…”

Reika smiled weakly. “I’m sure, Aunt Kumi. I’m not all that hungry right now anyway. Maybe tomorrow morning?”

Kumi still didn’t seem all that convinced, but sighed in defeat. “I just hope you haven’t gotten too accustomed to quick breakfasts like the Americans are known to have.”

She chuckled a little. “The grab and go breakfasts would never be able to hold a candle to yours. I promise.”

If anything, going from a restaurant chef cooking all her meals, to her aunt, who had no restaurant experience, was going to be a bit of a downgrade.

Before long, Reika was back in her car, a backpack full of her grandfather’s Egypt history textbooks and a notebook on the seat beside her.

“I’m glad we finally have some privacy, Reika,” a voice suddenly said.

Reika nearly swerved into the other lane.

“Azila, you have got to stop surprising me like this,” she said, glancing in the mirror to find the spirit in the back seat.

“I apologize.”

“What’s up?”

“I am concerned about the Millennium Puzzle.”

Reika frowned. “What? Why?”

“The Shadow Games, Reika. They are not meant for this world. They never have been. If your cousin was in one… this could mean the world is in grave danger. Both of them.”

“You think Eturn could be affected by this too?”

Azila nodded. “Well, you must remember, Eturn and Earth were connected when I was alive and the shadow magic ran rampant. I fear what that man - Kenji - was speaking about last night when we returned here could be due to the Shadow Games.”

“Are you sure? Kenji implied it’d been happening for a while, and that headache I had makes me think they only started with whatever happened with Pegasus and my cousin,” she said, pulling into the hospital parking lot.

“Perhaps, but are we certain they only started last night? Or have they been going on longer, and we only realized it because Yugi got involved?”

Reika didn’t have a response to that except a sigh. “I guess I’ll have to look into it when I talk to someone from the I.D.R.A. But I should get inside and… see gramps.”

Azila nodded. “Very well.”

Her phone beeped, distracting her briefly.

I’m sorry. I can’t meet with you just yet. There’s something I need to take care of before I can be seen in public.

Are you still upset about my cousin beating you in a duel?

It’s not me. It’s the investors. But I have a way to get KaibaCorp back on top.

Just be safe.

I will.

Letting out a soft sigh, Reika grabbed her bag, heading inside.

Seeing Solomon Muto laying prone in a hospital bed with too many wires attached to him shattered her heart. She dropped her backpack on the ground next to the chair and sat down shakily.

“Grandpa… I don’t know what Pegasus did to you, but I promise, Yugi’s going to rescue you,” she said softly. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. If I had been - ”

If she had been here when it happened, what? Would that have even mattered? Pegasus was inside a TV - she couldn’t very well have grabbed him and pinned him down to stop him.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, taking his hand. “I promised Yugi I’d look into the Millennium Items to see if we can figure anything out. I thought you’d like that, since I wasn’t really interested in them when I was a kid. I borrowed some of your books… I hope you don’t mind.”

He wouldn’t, even when he woke up. She knew that, but talking to herself was helping to distract her from the sounds of the medical equipment.

“You always said reading out loud helped you when you were studying, so I’m going to try that too,” she said, taking a deep breath and pulling one of the books out of her bag. “The Nameless Pharaoh, one of Egypt’s greatest mysteries…”

-----

Alden Leichter didn’t ask many questions when it came to the partnership with Pegasus. The partnership between them seemed to be going smoothly enough, and soon they would each be getting what they wanted. That damned Seto Kaiba would no longer be an issue, and KaibaCorp could go back to the way it used to be. The way they needed it to be.

He wasn’t sure what Yugi Muto’s place was in all of this, but he had heard through his connections that the boy’s grandfather, Solomon, had ended up comatose, which, in his mind, led to only one conclusion:

The return of young Miss Reika.

He hadn’t expected to care about her after Miaka’s disappearance, but there had been something about the girl that told him to keep her in the Young Five program, so he did.

It was that same feeling that told him to stop at Kame Game when it came into view on his way back to KaibaCorp after an early meeting on the outskirts of town.

The bell chimed above his head, and he heard quick footsteps rushing to greet him.

“Oh! Alden, what a surprise this is!” Kumi Muto said with a wide smile. “What brings you here?”

“Ms. Kumi,” he replied, bowing his head in respect. “I heard about your father-in-law’s health decline and thought I should stop by and see if you were okay.”

Kumi’s eyes turned sad. “Oh - well, I suppose we’re okay as any of us can be. Solomon’s been in such good health, it’s surprising that he fell so ill so quickly.”

He nodded. “Yes, he seemed to be the picture of health the last I saw him. It’s unfortunate that age can catch up to us in the blink of an eye. Have you heard from Miss Reika at all?”

“Reika got in early this morning. She’s with Solomon at the hospital. Although I admit, I’m worried for her, too.”

He frowned. “Oh? What seems to be the issue?”

“She really didn’t eat all that much for breakfast, and before she left, I noticed she had a backpack full of books with her. I’m concerned she’s fallen back into that pattern of hers where she studies too hard and forgets to eat. If it isn’t too much trouble, I was wondering if you would - ”

Alden smiled in understanding. “I don’t have anything else I can’t miss until late this afternoon. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you, Alden. I swear, sometimes you have better luck with her than I do.”

He had a hunch as to why, but kept his thoughts to himself as he took his leave.

As he looked into Solomon’s room, he found Reika curled up in one of the chairs. A history book lay on the floor in front of her, upside down. It was obvious it had fallen off her lap at some point.

“Miss Reika?” he asked gently, setting the bag he’d brought with him on the tray.

A tired grunt was the only response he got.

It wasn’t the first time he’d caught her asleep like this, so he went to his old stand by.

“Miss Reika, can you tell me the year the California Gold Rush began?”

“ -teen forty eight,” came the half-mumbled response.

He couldn’t help but smirk. “Can you repeat that, Miss Reika? I didn’t quite hear you.”

“Eighteen forty eight Mr... Leichter!” her head snapped up in realization, eyes wide. “Mr. Leichter, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you’d be coming.”

He took a seat next to her. “It’s quite alright Miss Reika. I didn’t mean to disturb you, but your aunt seemed concerned…”

Reika shifted in the chair so she was sitting properly. “About what?”

Alden pulled out the soup and sandwich he’d gotten for her. “About you eating. I thought I would drop off lunch for you.”

He saw a moment of confusion in her gaze before her eyes softened. “Oh. Right. That. She didn’t seem too pleased this morning.”

A soft laugh escaped him before he turned his attention to the textbook she put on the tray. “She mentioned you were studying. I thought your exams were done for the summer?”

Reika hesitated. “They are. I don’t know, I guess I just… was hoping that if I started studying these items like my grandpa did he’d… wake up or something.”

“It’s a sweet thought, Miss Reika. Your mother would tell me stories of how much your grandfather loves Egypt.”

Reika’s face flickered at the mention of Miaka. She reached for the soup, opening the lid and stirring it carefully. “Dad always said grandpa wanted him or Uncle Takeo to go into archaeology. Continue the family tradition, you know?” her voice was watery, though Alden could tell she was trying to be strong.

“I think you continuing it is a wonderful thing. Your grandfather was so excited when we spoke about you getting accepted to the University of Santa Cruz,” Alden said, squeezing her shoulder. It was then that he noticed the bracelet on her wrist, with the same design as the eye Master Pegasus wore.

That was interesting.

“I hope you weren’t taken away from any important business, Mr. Leichter. I’m sure KaibaCorp is buzzing with the Duelist Kingdom tournament about to start,” Reika said.

Alden shook his head. “It’s nothing I can’t catch up on. Besides, Mr. Kaiba told us to take it easy this weekend given Ma - Mr. Pegasus’ tournament. Even he’s listening to himself and took Mokuba on a small getaway this weekend.”

Her gaze went unreadable for a moment, before she spoke. “I’m glad to hear that. I know his loss to Yugi wasn’t easy for him to handle.”

He cleared his throat. “Yes - right. He’s been working himself to the bone ever since that loss.”

The shareholders had gotten nervous though. That duel being one of the reasons some of them had dropped Kaiba Corp was completely illogical and stupid in Alden’s mind, and a sign that Seto Kaiba was not meant to be leading the company.

“Do you think Mom and Dad would be proud of me, Mr. Leichter?” Reika suddenly asked quietly.

He blinked, looking at her. She was staring down at the sandwich in her lap, a faraway look in her eyes.

Alden gave her a sad smile. The poor thing had so much weight on her shoulders. “Of course I do. You’ve worked incredibly hard to learn English, traveled across the ocean to attend school. You’re following in your grandfather’s footsteps to study archaeology. Why on Earth wouldn’t they be?”

Reika pressed her lips together. “It’s been ten years since they went missing… it’s just getting harder to remember anything about them,” she admitted, looking over at him. “I miss them.”

Alden nodded in understanding, reaching to take her chin gently. “I know. I can’t imagine how difficult these ten years have been.”

Her dark eyes, wet with tears, met his gaze. “I’m going to find out what happened to them one day.”

There it was. That look of determination so fierce that even the gods themselves would be swayed to her whims.

“I don’t doubt you will, Miss Reika,” Alden said with a grin before glancing over at the clock. “However, I am due back at KaibaCorp for a meeting. I will speak with you soon.”

She nodded. “I understand. Thank you for lunch, Mr. Leichter.”

“It’s no trouble, but just make sure you don’t go forgetting to eat properly again,” he chastised gently. “Your aunt would have my head.”

Reika laughed, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I won’t, I promise.”

Alden reached to squeeze her shoulder gently before exiting the hospital.

“Where the hell have you been, Alden?” Gansley grumbled as Alden took his seat at the table. “The meeting starts in five minutes!”

“Reika has returned to Domino. I was at the hospital paying her a visit,” he replied with a shrug.

Nezbitt frowned slightly. “The hospital? Oh yes, that’s right. Her grandfather was admitted there, wasn’t he?”

“How’s the kid doin’?” Crump asked.

“Suffering from a bit of shock, but otherwise she seems to be doing well. Contemplative for her parents, but I suppose that would be common. It’s been ten years since they disappeared after all.”

“O-ho, are we gossiping before the meeting?” crackled Pegasus’ voice from the phone. “I do love a good story.”

“We were discussing Reika Muto, sir. She’s Leichter’s protege,” Johnson explained in his monotone voice. “She’s the cousin of the boy who defeated Mr. Kaiba.”

“How interesting…” Pegasus mused. “Is she a duelist as well?”

“As far as I’m aware, she does know how to, but not like Mr. Kaiba or Yugi,” Alden explained. “But I did notice she had a bracelet on today with the same marking as your eye.”

There was an uncomfortably long pause on Pegasus’ end, and for a moment Alden wondered if the line had disconnected.

“Well then, hopefully Duelist Kingdom will make her more interested in my little card game,” Pegasus said instead. “Now, onto our meeting, gentlemen…”

Alden felt a sliver of worry slowly melt away as he relaxed in his seat.

----------

“Did you find anything out about the items?” Yugi asked.

She shook her head, biting into a slice of pizza. “Nothing that grandpa didn’t already tell us when he gave these to us. It’s so strange. But while I was in America I found out that my bracelet has a ghost attached to it.”

“Sometimes when I duel… I feel another presence,” Yugi admitted. “Do you think the puzzle has a ghost in it too?”

“At this point, nothing would surprise me. But look, just because we haven’t been able to find any more information out about the items doesn’t mean you’re going to fail at this,” she said. “Remember what I said earlier. You have heart. Pegasus doesn’t. I’ve learned over the past year that people with heart, with something to fight for, are sometimes the most dangerous.”

Yugi gave her a weak smile just as her phone began to buzz.

She frowned as she glanced at it, not recognizing the number as she put it to her ear. “Hello?”

“Hello Reika, my name is Maximillion Pegasus.”

Reika sat up straight in her seat, prompting a questioning look from Yugi. “Mr. Pegasus, how did you get this number?”

Yugi’s eyes went wide, and he opened his mouth to speak as Reika pressed her finger to her lips to hush him.

“When you run a multi-billion dollar company, it isn’t that difficult to get what you want.”

“And what could you possibly want from me?”

“I want to invite you to observe the Duelist Kingdom tournament with me.”

She raised a brow. “The tournament?”

“Yes, I’m inviting you to stay in my palace. Think of it as a VIP experience!”

She could see the red flags immediately, but on the other hand, this was the man who was holding her grandfather’s soul hostage. One wrong move and… well, she didn’t want to think about it.

“I would be honored, Mr. Pegasus,” she said. “But how would I get there? Am I boarding the ship with Yugi?”

“Oh goodness, no! That’s only for my competitors. I’ll be sending my personal helicopter for you. Like I said, VIP experience! What do you say?”

Reika’s fingers twitched against the phone, but still, she managed the enthusiasm. “I think that sounds… amazing, Mr. Pegasus. I’ll be there at six. Yes, goodbye.”

Yugi jumped up the moment her phone hit the couch next to her. “You accepted an invitation from Pegasus? Reika, what if - ”

“It’s a trap? It probably is.”

“Then why would you agree to put yourself in danger like that?”

She almost laughed, as if she hadn’t helped liberate a country from a dictator over a week ago. “He’s got our grandfather, Yugi. If I turned him down, who knows what he would have done?”

“I still don’t like this.”

“I don’t either, but I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Despite her confidence, neither of them ate much more of the pizza.

[holylulusworld]

Lead on – Part 9 - Redemption is hard

Request: I had this idea of reader going to Stanford and liking Sam and he kinda leads her on knowingly but goes for Jessica and then years later Sam and Dean meet her like killing a vampire nest by herself with a samurai sword made with vampire blood and she looks so badass with an awesome tomb raider kinda get up and then she’s Crowley’s daughter with an angel and lucifer’s granddaughter so half angel/half demon

Pairing: Sam x Reader, Dean Winchester, Crowley

Warnings: angst, half angel-half demon reader, pissed Crowley, arguments, possessive Sam, fluff, sassy reader, fighting, blood, protective reader, nakedness, fingering, orgasm denial

Lead on Masterlist

Crowley is biting his tongue. He tries so hard to ignore the urge to kill Sam Winchester, the hunter defiling his daughter almost every night since he met you again.

Crowley doesn´t like the smile on your lips when you look up at Sam or the way the hunter’s hands are all over you anytime he gets the chance to.

“Seriously, can you stop touching my daughter right in front of me, Winchester? We are here as Y/N wants me to play father-in-law.” Crowley groans annoyed, rolling his eyes dramatically.

Dean smirks, chuckling as you pinch your father’s cheeks, giving him a dirty grin.

“Do you prefer a nice show, daddy? I don’t know if he is already hard, but Sammy and I could show you how good he can make me scream…”

Your father’s eyes flash red before he calms, remembering he will lose you forever if he attacks Sam right now. He must be smart, wait for his chance but you are always around and you almost sense when Sam is in danger.

“Daddy, it’s been two years. Sam won’t let me go even if I wanted to. Look at his posture. He’s full Alpha close to me and I love it. Makes me wet as hell.”

“Holy hell! If he ever hurts my daughter or messes up…” Panting Crowley jumps up, glaring at the way taller hunter. “No one in the history of torture’s been tortured with torture like the torture you’ll be tortured with if you do not keep your hands to yourself!”

Sam ignores the demon’s outburst, simply moving his arms around your waist he smirks at your father. “I hate to disappoint you Crowley but Y/N is mine. No one should try to part us, no one. If you try to get in between us, I’ll kill you.”

Raising his hands Crowley sighs heavily. “Why in bloody hell has my daughter to fall for a hunter, a Winchester for fuck’s sake.” Your grin widens seeing your father mutter and curse.

“Daddy, I love him.” Crowley stops in his tracks, gasping at your words. “Tell me I heard wrong, Y/N. Please tell daddy you are only playing with him.”

“Sorry, but these two are sick love-birds or rather rabbits.” Dean is patting Crowley’s shoulder, chuckling. “You don’t want to be here when these two are going at it. They even christened the kitchen, Crowley. We eat there…” Shuddering Crowley watches Sam snaking his tongue into your mouth.

—-

“I’m sorry for my father. I guess he will never get used to seeing you with me. Or maybe it was the thought of your huge cock pounding me hard turning daddy into a grumpy demon asshole.” Pawing at Sam’s shoulders, your legs wrapped around his waist you bite along his neck while he tries so hard to do research.

“Princess, I have to check this lore tonight. Don’t distract me…” Cursing Sam fists your hair when you bite him once again, trying to get his attention.

“I want to play with your little Sammy. I’ve missed you, Samuel. One week without you was so lonely. No one to fuck, tease or call Samuel. Boring…” Teasingly sliding your tongue over his ear shell you try to get Sam’s attention once again, but he refuses to stop reading his book and you leave his lap, sighing.

“I need to do this, Y/N. Give me half an hour and I’ll take care of you.” Sam is not looking at you when you start stripping your clothes off, not even when you lie on his bed, or the moment you start pinching your nipples.

“What a pity, Samuel. I guess I have to take care of my needs on my own again. I waited for you to come home but now I’ll get myself off.” Your hand snakes between your thighs and you start moaning.

Sam is glancing at you pleasuring yourself and his features darken. You are breaking one of his rules and his hands start twitching.

“Princess!” It’s a warning but you don’t care. One finger slips into your soaked pussy, and another but before you can start curling your digits Sam is gripping your hand. He’s leaning closer to bring your soaked fingers to his lips, licking your digits clean.

“What? You don’t want to help me out. I told you I need sex at least once a week and you let me down…again.” Pouting you struggle against his strength as he pins your hands down to roam your body with darkened eyes.

“I’ll let it slip this once and only as you are more than a needy, princess. Now, do as I say.” Sam purrs the words and you come almost there and then.

You want to give him a snarky comment but the aching in your core tells you otherwise, so you nod eagerly to get rewarded with three thick fingers entering your greedy cunt. “Fuck, so tight brat.”

Head lulling back, you want to grind against Sam’s fingers but he holds you down with one large palm pressing onto your hipbone. “Stay like that, princess. Gonna teach you a lesson.”

Lips parted, eyes fluttering shut you enjoy Sam’s fingers brushing over your g-spot, causing you to pant heavily. The coil is tightening, toes curling you feel your orgasm approach only for Sam to remove his fingers.

“No! No! Sam! I was so close…please.” Whining you try to bring his hand back between your legs, but he shakes his head. Hovering over you he kisses your nose gently before turning around to grab his abandoned book.

He’s lazily sucking his fingers clean, a devilish grin all over his handsome face he glances at you trying to get his hand back. “Punishment for touching yourself.”

“No…please. Over a week, Sammy…fuck I need you…” Tugging at his arm you try anything to make Sam budge, but he keeps on reading his lore.

“You will wait like a good girl and only get release when I tell you so.” Pissed you turn around, grabbing the blanket to cover your naked body. “Fuck you, asshole. If I don’t get any for over a week, you won’t get any for a month!”

“I decide…” Sam tries but you snap your fingers and you are out of his room and inside an empty room to sleep in.

You can hear Sam yelling but you don’t care. Using your powers, you seal the room, turning around to snuggle into the fluffy pillow. “Yeah, fuck you too… No one plays with me…”

—-

Days passed and even Dean recognized the silence between Sam and you. Before the last hunt, you almost clang to his brother and now you sit far away from him, poking your fork lust less into the food Dean prepared.

“Alright, Y/N. I hate to ask but what’s wrong between you and Sammy? I do not miss it at all but you used to do it like rabbits but now - …silence for days.” Dean’s eyes search your face as you sigh.

“I was alone for over a week as Sam refused to let me go on hunts. I was pissed before as I’m way more powerful than you or him, but I agreed. Then he comes back and refuses to give me attention. I tried to get myself off and he…”

Muttering you point at Sam as he enters the library. “He fingered me and didn’t let me cum. I won’t talk to that idiot ever again. I’m not a stupid girl he can play with. We have a hunt and I’m coming with you this time. Fuck his rules…” Storming out of the library you don’t glance at Sam or his darkened eyes.

“Dude fix this…soon. We don’t need a pissed wonder woman in the bunker. Just give her an orgasm or two.” Dean chuckles at Sam’s pained expression.

“I didn’t get any too. Somehow she manages to not let me fall over the edge. I tried to get off and failed…for days.” Sam mutters silently as you get out of your room, grinning.

“Ready for the hunt, Deano. Let’s kick asses. Maybe I’ll find someone scratching the aching between my legs as asshole hunter number two won’t get any.”

—-

“Watch out!” Dashing toward you pierce the vamp’s chest with your Katana but it’s too late. Sam is falling to his knees, clutching his chest. He can feel the blood dripping out of the deep stab wound and all he can do is to look at you one last time.

“Love…” Gasping for air Sam collapses in your arms as you spread your wings to protect the injured hunter while you use all your strength to heal his deadly wound.

“Don’t you die me here, asshole. I got to make sure you will make things up to me. I’m warning you, Winchester!” Sniffling you kiss Sam’s forehead while your grace is floating his body. “Going to save you, Sam.”

“Y/N!!” Dean rushes to your side to help you with Sam but your eyes start glowing and you float the whole barn with your powers. All vampires turn to dust when you use your full strength.

“I’ve got this, Deano…” Exhausted you fall to the ground and Dean must catch you. “Sammy?”

“I’m fine, give her to me.” Sam slowly gets up to take you out of Dean’s arms. “She saved me, stubborn little brat. You have to love her…”

—-

“How do you feel?” Sam is gently rubbing your back while you stir in his embrace, snuggling closer to his warm chest. “Tired…”

“Castiel said you used all your strength to save me. It almost cost your life, Y/N. Never do such a stupid thing ever again.” Slapping his chest, you glare up at the tall hunter.

“You would be dead by now, asshole. I couldn’t let you die. I might love you.” Muttering you hide your face into his chest. “I love you too, brat. Now let me take care of you. Castiel said you might feel weak for some days or weeks.”

“I want food, a massage, and an awesome orgasm later. Now shut up and let me sleep some more. I couldn’t let you die…idiot…” Sniffling you paw at Sam’s back, holding onto him for dear life. “I love you…”

SPN Forever Tags

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If your name is crossed out Tumblr won’t let me tag you for some reason. Sorry.

Sam/Jared Forever Tags

@moosekateer13​​, @thevelvetseries​

[kusunogatari]

[ ObiRyū October | Day One | Shining Armor ] [ @abyssaldespair ] [ Uchiha Obito, Suigin Ryū ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ]

[ Previous || Next ]

It all comes down to this.

Checking and double checking his gear, Obito can’t help a worried sigh. For weeks he’s been considering giving a new hobby a try, and even before then he’d started saving for something to do. He stumbled across a possible activity completely by accident when making a detour home one day from work. In a park he’d never visited was a group of twenty or so people - adults, mind you - doing what looked to be some kind of...really involved make-believe.

A little research revealed it to be called LARPing. Live-action roleplaying. Like taking one of his favorite fantasy videogames or a tabletop campaign, and making it as close to real as one can really get: literally acting it out, in real time, with real people. Dressed up as their characters and everything!

He was hooked.

Hours of research later, he’d gotten started: crafting his outfit, weapons, supplies, and a character to play. A barbarian warrior...something he thought suited his build, and his appearance.

No real need to explain his scars, that way.

It took a while to build up the nerve, but he finally approached one day and asked about how to join. Most events were just day-long ones as opposed to full weekends, he’d learned. And an entry fee helped cover a few costs like extra props, costumes, and even food for the players over the course of the day. Fifty bucks and he could hop in.

He hadn’t done so right away, still fiddling with all the details of his character. He wanted it to be perfect…! But eventually there was nothing left to procrastinate, so...he packed up his gear and headed out.

And now here he is, standing with a few other newcomers. Thankfully his underclothes were normal enough to walk here in, and he starts strapping on armor he’d made. It’s nothing too fancy, but he managed to get some metallic paint to make it look like real steel. Overall, for his first go of it? He’d say he’s done well. There will always be time to improve as he goes, right?

It’s a high fantasy setting, as he’s learned. Elves, magic, that sort of stuff. Pretty typical, as far as he’s read. And while he’s set to be a moldable, playable character, so too are there those who play more static roles for the players to interact with...as well as those helping to craft the stories. Each only takes six to eight hours, as not to drag on past each day gathering. But some end up interconnected. Today, it seems, given all the new faces, they’re starting a new event.

The main coordinator and storyteller gathers the characters together to give a brief overview, as well as introduce the NPCs before they start. But once it begins, there’s no breaking character. Hours of being someone else for a day - no longer is he Obito, but Garver the Crushing, complete with a mace and shield he found tutorials for online.

With the plot set, everyone disperses, taking their places and readying for the game to begin. Obito, along with a few others, start by browsing the “town” to gather supplies for an upcoming battle set to take place. His character doesn’t know any magic...but he can certainly use things like throwable weapons, and potions to ensure he doesn’t get taken down too easily.

But the NPC selling potions is swarmed first, so he idles around for a bit, browsing a selection of weapons available for gold...or in this case, real-world quarters used in place of anything too fancy. In the end he picks up a dagger, not wanting to eat into his character’s savings too much.

He then finds the potion “shop” empty of other patrons, and shyly makes his way forward.

Right away he can tell, this one’s a pro. Not only does she have a good array of props, but her outfit looks entirely legit. Within an actual period-appropriate tent are few shelves, complete with a banner: White Dragon Remedies, it proclaims. Bottles filled with shimmering liquid are made of a squishy, clear material to prevent any breaks. She also has some “enchanted” clothing: more glittering fabric to indicate their magical properties.

Turning to face him, she reveals more of her outfit. While her actual dress is a rather plain dark grey, it’s her cloak that makes his jaw drop comically. White with silver embroidery work, it’s a piece of art in and of itself. It sweeps the grass, a wide hood draped over her head, still revealing her fake (but very convincing) elven ears.

Her eyes are a light grey, almost white to match her colorless locks. Even her brows and lashes are white! He wonders if it’s makeup and a wig, or if this is how she actually looks.

“Greetings, traveler,” she offers with a smile that makes his chest clench. “Are you in need of my brews…? Or perhaps something laced with magic to protect you?”

Still a bit shell shocked, Obito flounders for a moment like a fish out of water. Clearly she’s a long-standing player to be this prepared and decked out. “Uh, I...y-yeah. Um…”

As he stutters, she can’t help a glint of amusement in her eyes he’s pretty sure isn’t in-character - she’s actually having to hold back a laugh, he can tell. “I have a wide variety of wares,” she offers, clearly trying to help him regain his head. “Potions of healing, articles of protection, and even scrolls of contained spells for those unable to cast enchantments themselves. All highly valuable on the battlefield for a warrior such as yourself. Is there anything specific you’re looking for…?”

Trying to delve back into his character, Obito looks around. What would Garver like to take with him…? “I’ll take healing potions, at any rate. What do they cost?”

“I’ve one that can heal a minor wound, and one for a more...serious injury. The former is ten gold, and the latter twenty.”

Ooh, he...won’t be able to get too many. His ears turn red in embarrassment at his both in- and out-of-character poverty. Weighing his coin pouch, teeth nibble the scar along his lip in thought.

“I also have garments that help reduce damage taken. More costly, but also more effective over time. You’ll need fewer potions for as long as you have it, my lord.”

“Oh, I’m no lord,” Obito quickly refutes. Garver is a simple mercenary, after all.

“Any patron of mine receives my respect,” is her polite rebuke. Reaching for a verdant scarf, she holds it aloft for him to look at. “This will halve any damage you take. A robust enchantment indeed.”

Something about it catches his eye. “...and the cost?”

“Fifty gold is all. And, since you’re a new face in town, I’ll throw in a lesser potion of health for good measure, no extra charge.”

“But -?”

“Dark times lie ahead, traveler. We must all be cautious. And you’ll need to survive them to visit me again when you’ve more coin to spend, hm?” She winks an eye, and his chest flutters again. “Consider it an investment in your well-being. And perhaps mine, if you ever return.”

Blinking at her, Obito then looks down at the scarf. It does sound like a pretty good deal… “...I’ll take it.”

“Excellent!” Folding the scarf as he counts out his quarters, she fetches one of the blue sparkling potions. “I wish you luck, traveler. May fortunate winds blow at your back.”

“A-and you,” he stutters in reply. “...thank you.”

“Save your thanks for when that scarf saves your life, stranger.”

“...Garver.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I - my name, it...it’s Garver.”

Her expression brightens. “Ah! A pleasure, lord Garver. I am Wyria of the White Dragon. I hope our paths will cross again sometime.”

Not sure how to reply, Obito just gives a sheepish nod before retreating. Nearby, another male player seems to evaluate his gear.

“Well met,” he offers, nodding to Obito in greeting.

“Hello.”

“Been to stock up on potions, have you?”

“Er...yeah. Yes. I...can’t afford much.”

“A mercenary’s life is spent in constant search of coin, eh? You must spend it to make it.”

The corner of Obito’s mouth twitches. This interaction seems a lot...easier. “True enough. Though just once I’d like to get ahead.”

“All it takes is one lucky break! And just one unlucky one to have it all come to a screeching halt. We walk a blade’s edge, my friend.” Holding out a hand, he offers, “Irkvar.”

“Garver,” Obito replies, shaking it.

“So...what think you of the potion seller?”

“What do I...think?”

The other man grins. “A beauty, isn’t she? Not often you see elves this far north. They seem to prefer the warmer climates. But she keeps us all stocked and alive.”

Before he can stop it, Obito’s brow furrows. “...seems we’re lucky to have her, then.”

“Indeed.” Glancing around, the man then leans in and whispers, breaking character for a moment. “She’s a professional cosplayer. Goes to cons and makes big bucks with photos and shit. She’s huge on Instagram, too. All-natural hottie - no wig or anything, that’s just how she looks. Makes her super popular if the cosplay fits well. Wouldn’t mind getting to know her better but she tends to ghost once the events are done.”

At the rather...objectifying language, Obito scowls. “Can’t imagine why,” he mutters sarcastically.

But his tone seems lost on his companion, who then slides back into character. Yet even as the idle speech drags on, Obito can’t help but remain annoyed with the guy.

What an ass.

Once the prologue is completed and the characters found to be ready for the next phase, Obito manages to evade his new “friend” and immerse himself more into the story. The city has received word of an impending attack...and he has a choice to make. Stay and fight for the city, and receive less gold...or betray them and join the attacking force, which has more gold to spare.

Thinking of the goods he could acquire with some extra spending money, Obito nonetheless finds himself tugged toward the moral high ground. So after some debate, he decides to remain in the city. A few more darker-aligned characters actually swap, and he finds himself preparing to face them.

It’s them, or him.

Hours pass as skirmishes start and stop. Strategies are laid out, twists in the story guided by the NPCs. Obito, scarf around his neck, manages to keep his character alive, relying on his single potion as the battle seems to wane.

But then the boss appears...and he realizes he’s made a grave mistake. There’s no way he’s going to make it with no more potions! He could do the cowardly thing and run, but -?

“I cast Wall of Spectral Light!”

Jolting, he turns to see the potion seller. A hard glint is in her eyes, staring at the boss with a snarl.

Seems she’s decided to work to protect her home.

The narrator calls out the spell’s effects, proclaiming that her actions help protect a section of the defending army...including Obito. No damage is taken, but the barrier can only repel so much damage. From a belt at her waist, she begins tossing extra potions to the players.

“I’ve no gold,” Obito replies.

“We’ll settle any debts later, should we live through this,” she replies, looking to him gravely.

For a moment, Obito forgets this is all a game. He meets her desperate gaze with one of his own, and there’s a sort of...spark.

But they don’t have much time to chat.

The battle rages on, player characters calling out spells as Wyria and other NPCs lend scripted hands. And just as the sun starts setting, someone lands the final blow...and the boss collapses, dead.

A chorus of triumphant cries echo out over the park, and characters celebrate, embracing and beating chests. Obito sags in relief. In truth...he’s exhausted. More so than a day at work!

And as the cheering goes on, it’s joined by children who had stopped to watch, Obito sheepishly waving to them and earning more excitement. Seems they’re convinced this is all real: the joys of childish imagination.

Looking just as tired as the rest of them, the NPCs offer their congratulations to their heroes. And Wyria greets Obito, much to his surprise.

“So, seems that scarf served you well, Garver,” she offers with a wry grin. “I think you can properly thank me, now.”

“It did...as did your potions. I owe you more than just gold - I owe you my life.”

“You and a few others,” she replies cheekily. “But all debts will be settled in time. I’m sure  I have a job or two you can do for me sometime.”

Grinning tiredly, Obito watches her for a moment before everyone is gathered for a final celebration in the town. As it begins to wind down, the storyteller declares the event over, and everyone is allowed to break character at last.

Sighing in relief - yet wholly satisfied with his Saturday - Obito glances around. It’s then he realizes he didn’t see Wyria in the party, and indeed she’s instead been packing up.

Seems the man from before is right - she doesn’t waste any time. It wilts his expression, as he’s pretty sure he understands why. Keeping his helmet tucked under his arm, he sheepishly approaches. “...need any help?”

At his voice, she spins around, eyes wide, still dressed in her attire. But she softens as she recognizes him. “Ah, sorry...I thought you were, uh...nevermind.”

“I think I know who you mean,” Obito assures her. “So I thought I’d lend a hand, if...you want it.”

“That would be wonderful, thank you.”

They finish dismantling her setup, which Obito compliments. “This must’ve taken a lot of time.”

“And money,” she assures him dryly. “But...I love it. It’s been worth every dollar and hour. I love acting and dressing up, so...it only makes sense. I was one of the people who helped set up the LARP group here.”

“Really?”

“Mhm! Right out of high school. It was really small and...cheap at first. But we’ve grown a lot over the years. We even put on shows for schools sometimes. Which helps earn more money to keep the group going.”

“That’s awesome!”

“Maybe you’ll join us for one?”

“Eh…” At that, he hesitates. “...maybe. I’m still, uh...new. And…” He gestures to his face, wilting. “...not sure I’d be good around kids.”

“They seemed to love it before. And they’ll just believe it’s part of your character. Are…?” It’s her turn to pause. “So...those are real?”

“Yeah.”

“Me too. The hair and stuff, I mean.” Her eyes roll. “Used to get me bullied, but I do pretty well thanks to it now.”

“Someone mentioned you cosplay professionally…?”

“Mhm. It’s not a full gig, I still work. But it helps. And it’s a lot of fun, when...people aren’t being jerks.”

Obito sours. “Yeah...I caught a whiff of that earlier. I’m sorry.”

“It comes with the territory. Just...wish that it didn’t.” After a pause, a box of stuff in her arms, she offers, “I...just realized I never introduced myself! My...real self, that is. I’m Ryū.”

“Obito.”

“Nice to meet you. And thanks for the help.”

Helping her load the last boxes into her car, Obito can’t help but ask, “So...do you always play an NPC?”

“I do. As much as a character is fun, I enjoy being part of the structure. And since I’m one of the founders, I feel more...set in stone that way. I play Wyria every time. So I’m almost like a playable character, just...set to a script. I’m the same person for every story, but I enjoy it a lot. I feel like a piece of the foundation that way.”

“I think I understand.”

Closing the car door, she gives him another look. “Thanks for helping me pack up. And…” She glances past him for a moment, and his head tilts. “...for helping ward anyone else off.”

Obito nearly turns to look, but brightens in understanding. “...oh! Yeah, sure. Any time.”

“So, will you be back next weekend?”

“Er...maybe.” He itches his neck guiltily. “The, uh...ticket price is a little steep for me.”

“Yeah, it can be. Very few people come every week. Mostly it’s every other, or once a month. It keeps the group fluid, though. A different pool every time.” Ryū gives a smile. “But it’ll be cool to see you again. You did really well for a first timer!”

Obito feels himself get warm at the compliment. “Y-yeah?”

She nods. “Did you do any theater in high school?”

“A little, yeah.”

“That helps. And it only gets easier the more you do it. I’m sure Garver will be a staple pretty soon. And Wyria will always be happy to sell him some potions...for the right price.”

Smiling bashfully, Obito then stiffens. “Oh -!” He reaches up and takes off the scarf. “Here, I -”

“No, that’s yours.”

“...but -?”

“You bought it in-game, so it belongs to Garver.” She waves a hand. “I get material and stuff pretty cheap, don’t worry about it. And players trade things back in for upgraded stuff, so it usually cycles back. Just don’t lose it, okay?”

“Oh...well, thanks.”

She just smiles in reply. “Well, I guess I’ll see you whenever you can make it back in! Take care, Obito.”

“Yeah, you too.” He steps aside, letting her pull away from the park’s lot in the dusk of evening.

He needs to get home, too...it’ll be dark by the time he gets back. Stripping off his gear and putting it back into his duffle bag, Obito smiles to himself. It was a really good day…! Better than he’d feared. And maybe he’s even making a new friend, both in and out of character. Sadly his low wages mean it might be a while before he can come back, but...well, it’ll be worth the wait.

Replaying it all in his mind, he starts back toward home, unable to help but linger on the scenes with Garver and Wyria. Partly he feels bad - he doesn’t want to be like Irkvar. But, well...her character is interesting! And Garver just...enjoyed her. That’s all.

...that’s all.

     Aw yisss, we’re back with another ObiRyū October, y’all! And the first piece is set in a modern verse with some LARPing, cuz...Obito is a canon professional LARPer, after all xD And the prompt just fit too well, I couldn’t not do it lol      I have a few buffer days built up JUST in case I fall behind (as I...always do), but I’ll still be writing to try and keep up. Otherwise, as per usual, I’ll be doing my best to post once a day through the whole month in celebration of my OTP!       So on that note...I better start working on more xD Thanks for reading!

[fakeyellow]

Kamilah faces the consequences of her actions. The Ending(s) of Forget Me Not.

I wrote three different endings. If you don’t want to read all of them, just read the third one.

1.

Kamilah watches from afar as Isla puts her life back together, piece by piece. There’s a bit of confusion, adjustment needed as Isla comes to terms with the missing gaps of her memory but she’s always been strong and she picks herself up.

Kamilah follows Isla’s career as she becomes Grant Emerson’s campaign manager and successfully gets him elected as Mayor of New York. And although she knows it’s old fashioned to cut out newspaper clippings, she does exactly so, collecting all the snippets in articles and photos that include even the slightest mention of her.

When Isla seems to decide that she doesn’t want a future in politics, she looks into jobs with financial corporations, and at one point, her resume crosses Kamilah’s desk via the mistake of an intern.

Her hand pauses over the small, professional headshot included in the resume and Kamilah can’t help but stroke it tenderly, as if she were stroking the woman’s actual face.

She’s changed her hair since the campaign and it suits her. Although the picture is still Isla, there is a remarked maturity in her face that reminds Kamilah bitterly of just how much time has passed.

She can only imagine how much Isla must have grown, how much she must have changed, how much she must have gone through. The new connections she must have made, the new interests she must have discovered, the new relationships she must have formed...

There is only so much her guards can tell Kamilah, from their positions in Isla’s neighbouring apartments, and besides, she had placed them there to guard Isla, not to spy on her.

She forces herself to be content with what she does know of Isla and she continues to scour the newspapers for new mentions of her.

—

A few years later, when Isla’s become established in her own career, Isla falls in love.

Kamilah discovers this all by chance one day when she’s meeting with the lawyer representing a business Ahmanet Financial is in the middle of acquiring.

The lawyer’s phone lights up with a call and although the woman quickly apologises and puts it into her pocket, Kamilah catches a glimpse of the lock screen.

It is a photo of Isla and the woman, dressed in a beautiful white dress and a white suit respectively. They’re kissing and Kamilah suddenly notices the shiny, new wedding band on the lawyer’s finger.

The meeting finishes without any other complications and Kamilah is left alone in her office.

There is an unspeakable pain in her heart, a sudden pang of loss even though she had always known this was likely to happen, and she closes her eyes, the photo branded onto her mind.

It’s in the middle of her grief that Kamilah then hears the voice.

It’s small, even with Kamilah’s heightened senses, and she realises it must be coming from the lawyer’s cellphone as she makes her way to the elevator.

Words of affection are exchanged between the two women and Kamilah listens to Isla, hearing the happiness, the warmth, the love that flows in her voice.

Although it still hurts, Kamilah smiles.

“I’m happy for you Isla,” she whispers into her empty office.

And that is the last time Kamilah hears Isla’s voice.

—

For all intents and purposes, Isla lives a long, fulfilling life.

She thrives in her career, leading numerous initiatives that help the lives of thousands of people. She flourishes in her marriage to the lawyer, and they spend a happy 50 years together.

Isla passes peacefully in her sleep at the old age of 84 and her funeral is filled with all the people who’s lives she touched.

Speeches are made of her great deeds, her loving nature, her unrelenting determination to do what is right.

And when the last funeral-goers finally trickle out and Isla’s body is laid to rest in the ground, a single figure dressed in black appears.

The figure walks slowly towards the newly engraved tombstone and bows her head, tears trickling down her cheeks.

Kamilah kneels and places a single stem of forget me not flowers on the grave of the woman who will always hold her heart

2. Short ending if Serafine’s memory erasure hadn’t held.

Some background information: When Isla awakes without any memories or clues of the past year, she becomes determined to never again be left with nothing. She gets into photography, a way to forever capture moments of time. Even if her memories disappear once again, she will at least have her photographs.

One day when she’s developing her photographs, she notices a woman appearing over and over in her photos. She’s always in the background, with her face partially obscured, but Isla finally finds a picture where the woman’s full face can be seen.

After doing some research, Isla figures out that it is Kamilah Sayeed, the elusive CEO of Ahmanet Financial, and she goes over to the corporation building.

In the place where so many things had happened, Isla’s memories suddenly return and she goes to confront Kamilah in her office.

—

“How could you?” Isla burst out.

The shock on Kamilah’s face disappeared, giving way to a deep weariness and shame.

Kamilah sighed heavily, “I know. I did terrible things and I have been paying the price every day since.”

“No,” Isla shook her head as her eyes began to water, “How could you do that to me?”

“You were tearing yourself apart, Isla,” Kamilah said desperately, needing Isla to understand why she’d done what she had, “I wasn’t going to just stand still and watch as a small part of you died each day.”

“Still,” Isla’s voice broke on the word.

“It should have been my choice,” she continued fiercely, “And I would have told you that no matter what happened, I would always love you. I would always choose you.”

“We could have gotten through it together,” Isla cried out before turning silent.

It was after a long silence that Isla eventually asked, in a small voice that conveyed the weight of all of the hurt she carried, “Didn’t you trust me?”

She gazed probingly into Kamilah’s eyes, as if searching for something in its depths. But finding them lacking, Isla finally sighed and whispered.

“Goodbye Kamilah.”

3. If Serafine’s memory erasure hadn’t held: Version 2

“How could you do that to me?” Isla asked, her face crumpling as she grappled with the full realisation of what had happened.

And although Kamilah wanted nothing more than to sweep her up in her arms and never let go, there was also a part of her that wasn’t sorry for what she’d done.

“You were tearing yourself apart Isla!” Kamilah burst out almost in frustration, desperately needing Isla to understand why she’d done what she had done, “I wasn’t going to just stand still and watch as more and more of you died with each day.”

“So what,” Isla scoffed, her watery eyes burning furiously at Kamilah, “You thought you’d erase my memories? You thought that if I didn’t remember you or anything else from the past year, I’d just return to my normal life, as if nothing had ever happened?

Kamilah remained silent, unable to say anything as Isla’s voice grew in intensity.

“Well you were wrong,” Isla bitterly said, “When I woke up, I was alone. Do you know how it feels to have woken up only to realize that you’ve lost an entire year of your life?”

“You even took Lily away from me,” Isla cried out, tears streaming down her cheeks, “You took Adrian and Jax and…”

“You all were my family and you took it all away” She continued, “I couldn’t even remember you. I just knew that there was something essential missing.”

Isla paused now, her voice growing quiet as she stared directly at Kamilah, “I cried myself to sleep every night. Did your guards tell you that?”

Kamilah flinched but Isla continued.

“Did they tell you that every day I woke up wishing I hadn’t? Did they tell you that I felt like a shell of a person, that sometimes, it felt as if I would drown in my loneliness?”

“Isla, I-” Kamilah began hoarsely.

“Did you even miss me?” Isla cut her off, searching probingly into the depths of Kamilah’s eyes.

A thousand words swelled up in her chest, begging to be released, but in the end, Kamilah could only breathe out, “Every day. Each and every second, I never stopped missing you.”

A fresh wave of tears spilled over and flowed down her face even as Isla forced herself to harden.

“I don’t forgive you,” Isla softly stated and Kamilah closed her eyes in response. There was pain written in the lines of her face but she nodded, as if she had expected this.

And then, suddenly, warm arms wrapped around Kamilah, Isla’s head nestling into her chest.

“But you’ve punished yourself for long enough,” Isla finished tearfully, “You have to forgive yourself. You deserve happiness too Kamilah.”

And Isla’s words finally caused Kamilah to break down in long, overdue tears. She’d repressed her emotions for so long in an attempt to atone for the weight of her countless sins, a weight that she’d constantly carried with her.

The redemption in Isla’s words were more than she’d ever hoped for.

Isla leaned back in their embrace, tenderly wiping away Kamilah’s tears. Kamilah grabbed onto Isla’s hand, leaning into her touch.

“Everyone is allowed to make mistakes. To mourn over something they wish they could undo. The important thing is that you come out of it a better person. You face up to what you did and you make amends. That is how you make up for your actions. Not by punishing yourself out of misplaced guilt,” Isla said.

Kamilah nodded and stared wondrously at Isla, almost unable to believe that this remarkable woman had come back to her, that Isla still believed so strongly in her.

“I still don’t forgive you for what you did to me,” Isla interjected sternly before softening, “But I will. And I will never stop loving you.”

Kamilah’s heart swelled with affection and it seemed impossible that one person could love someone so much.

“I love you too.”

—

A/N: The first ending was what I originally had in mind for the story and is why I titled it “Forget Me Not.” I thought it’d be sad to imagine Kamilah watching over Isla from a distance, seeing her have a happy life even if it broke her heart to not be with her.

Then I wrote the second ending where Isla isn’t able to forgive Kamilah for what she’s done to her. I really just wanted to end it on “Goodbye Kamilah.”

Then I thought about the second ending again and I thought the MC should be angrier at Kamilah at first, so that transformed into the third ending, which I think I like the best. I had a hard time coming up with what Isla’d say at the end so I used the long, italicised quotes from BB Book 2 Chapter 12 and 15. 

Which ending was your favourite?

[theatrelove3000]

Best of Queens and Best of Women

My girl @thatavengersbitch strongly suggested that i post twice in two days so this is me having nothing better to do and deciding to listen to her. 

This one is based on the song “Best of Wives and Best of Women” from the musical Hamilton, aka one of my faves! this one is shorter so there’s that XD

Best of Queens and Best of Women

Noelle PoV:

I turn over in my sleep, reaching for Loki to comfort me with his steady breathing. I wake slightly due to my confusion when my hand finds cool sheets rather than smooth skin. I search for him, never opening my eyes.

"Loki?" I whisper, half asleep. I hear movement somewhere in the room and open my eyes. Loki is sitting at his desk, 5 feet from the bed, writing something.

I sit up and rub my eyes and look to the window, searching for a time. The sky is still black. I swing my legs over the side of the bed. I let my feet touch the floor before I stand up so that I don't fall over. I'm not as graceful as Loki, or anyone else in Asgard, and probably never will be. I pull on my dressing gown that sits on the chest at the foot of Loki's four poster bed and make my way over to him and the desk.

He glances at me over his shoulder as I set my hands on his shoulders and kiss the shell of his ear. He raises his left hand and rests it on top of mine on his shoulder.

"Loki, why are you up? Come back to sleep." I whisper in his ear.

He groans slightly before responding, "I wish I could, darling, but unfortunately, I have an early meeting in another realm. Nilfheim has requested our services in negotiating the terms between the two sides of their civil war. The king and I are going to assist."

I frown a bit. I know that he has to go and, because of the time difference in Niflheim and Asgard, he must leave early. That doesn't make me happy that he is going. "It's still dark outside." I whine, wrapping my arms around his neck from behind, hands resting on collarbones.

"I know. I just need to finish this paperwork."

"Why do you write like you're running out of time?" I sigh, resting my head on his shoulder.

"Shhh." He coos at me. He puts down his quill and runs his hand through my hair. I feel sleep setting on me again.

"Come back to bed." I say, releasing my grip on him except for his hand, which I pull to try and get him to follow me to the bed. "That would be enough."

He chuckles at my little reference and pulls me into his lap, "I will be back before you know I am even gone." He presses a kiss to my temple.

"Please, Loki? Come back to sleep." I beg. I feel pathetic for doing it but it's more difficult to sleep without him.

"My meeting begins at dawn."

I sigh and start to rise from his lap, "Fine. I am going back to sleep."

He catches my hand before I get too far and tugs lightly to get me to turn, "Darling." He says as he brings my knuckles to his lips. I look over my shoulder at him. "You truly are the best of queens and the best of women." His emerald eyes meet my deep blue ones. I smile and kiss him lightly before he releases me to go back to bed.

~~~~~~~~~~

When I wake the next morning, the bed is still empty and Loki is still gone. I sigh but stand up and stretch. I take a drink of the water that Loki keeps on his desk. The desk is covered in paperwork and things like that. I shake my head and begin to tidy it a bit.

As I sift through his papers, I notice a page covered in ink. Intrigued, I pull it out from under a pile of research notes and see that it is a drawing. Of me.

I'm asleep in the picture. I never knew he could draw. It makes me smile. I look at the picture for a moment before deciding that it's time to go back to my own chambers. I set the page down and teleport to my rooms and begin my day.

It passes rather quickly. I train for a good portion of it and then wander through the gardens before dinner. I sit under our tree and read for a bit before dinner and then retire to my chambers for the night.

Somewhere in the night, I am awakened by my mattress sinking under someone's weight. I hear a yawn and look over my shoulder to see Loki, looking exhausted, crawling into bed beside me. He lays down gently and wraps an arm around my waist. He pulls me to his chest and buries his face in my hair. I let him breathe for a bit before turning over and meeting his eyes.

"I told you I would return." He mutters, hooded eyes gazing at me teasingly.

"I never doubted your ability to come back to me. More so Thor's tendency to start wars."

Loki laughs and kisses my nose. "Yes, that is why he brought me. So I can do the talking while he gives them drinks."

I giggle and nuzzle my way into the crook of his neck. "I missed you."

He tightens his embrace and whispers back "And I you, my Queen." We talk for a little while before drifting into sleep.

[chainofbeing]

Adam witnesses the destruction that can be brought on by the Anthronesians, and sees the all too familiar horror that festers in Mights mind.

Veatorian woman: Emmy Coates

Hass man: David M. Sledge

Might-Upon-Serenity: Frances Gillard

Ovig Nadal: Glyn Pritchard

Sound design, Writing, and, Adam Delta 5: Cai Gwilym Pritchard

email us at chainofbeingofficial@gmail.com

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And check out The Green Horizon, found wherever good podcasts are. You're smart, you'll figure it out

[the sound of a relatively busy town, music playing people talking, Vestak-cry at its busiest]

I stare down at Might, she’s not moving but her pain permeates the air, distress, anguish and fear, through something troubles her even beyond her wounds. The metal shell has grown back now and her organic interior is healing relatively well. “Is there anything I can do to help?,” I say to a Veatorian woman outside of the healers yurt, she looks me up and down “Can you use that?” She gestures to the spear at my side “somewhat,” I reply “go out and hunt,” she points toward the mesa “head that way for 4  hours and then head toward the minor sun, you’ll reach some rich hunting grounds, food is scarce we need something to give these bandits,” the proposition of just giving up upsets me, I’d seen this happen many times before, Forus Minor was the most recent, having spent a bit of time there I began to recognise the kind of person it took to coerce and steal in this way, “I’ll find a way to stop them, I promise,” she looks at me as if I’d promised to destroy the moon or reverse time “with the weapons they have? We can't all be immortal,”

[the sounds of swamp wilderness, insects and frogs making noise Adam trudging along]

I grab some water and a long piece of cloth to wrap around my head to keep cool and start walking, leaving my coat behind. My ribs ache as I walk and so I begin to consider the weapon that the masked woman carried to distract myself. A laser rifle, an actual fucking laser rifle. Like something out of an old sci-fi story. The idea seemed so fantastical to me, like hover cars or pills that you take instead of eating, I mean sure, On a big enough supercruiser or an OLCoSat, but research into handheld energy weapons had been discarded hundreds of years ago. And yet I watched my friend get hit with one. I’ve been walking toward the mesa in the far distance for an hour or so when I come across another town, this one far more built up than Vestak-cry,

[the town creaks and sways, old wood and metal settling, flies buzz and a light wind blows]

The tallest building is around 3 stories high, its wide and round and built out of the engine of a mega-hauler or something of a similar size, I don't recognise the make. It casts a shadow on the rest of the village, with a roof of plastic sheeting pulled taught across and fastened to several bars which are run through it. The rest of the town surrounds this centrepiece, densely packed due to the trench that defines the border of the town. There must be about 150 separate settlements all huddled around the tall central building. I circle round to the entrance, the large metal gates lie open as I walk over the makeshift bridge the smell of rot and decay becomes suddenly very intense, I look over into the ditch and see that there are several bodies lying at the bottom, many with gunshot wounds in the back of the head or with large singed portions of their body missing. In the town the walls of all the buildings are marked with large gashes and bullet holes, every so often a blackened streak will appear or a hole through several buildings lets the wind whistle through it. More bodies litter the town, the killing blows less methodical as some of them clutch lengths of iron rebar or other makeshift weapons grabbed in a moment of panic. Silence is relative, you may think where you are is quiet, but if you listen closely enough there will always be the sound of a vehicle or the wind blowing lightly, in concert halls after a powerful song ends the space is deathly quiet, even as the last waves created by the instruments reverberate in the room. The same is with the town, there is no silence, the wind blows and buildings settle, yet next to what must have been a loud and bustling organism made up of hundreds of people who all knew each other's names and lives, all with individual stories that converge on this one point, it might as well be a burial chamber, forgotten and lost. The Hollowed out engine is a market , from what I can gather, all along the circumference and in the core of it stalls are strewn about, small, yet useless, trinkets with the more valuable items stolen. On the front entrance to the market there is a Tra’ha’dowl, strung up from the iron bars which keep the plastic roof in place, it can only be a few weeks since he was killed, his small black eyes are sunken and faded with decay and his small many toothed maw hangs open, his rubbery pale skin hugs tightly to his skeleton as the flesh rots. Hung from his neck is a black banner with the white insignia of a six spoked wheel run through with a sword. Beneath this the words “Unto Humanity Only” are inscribed in an ancient human language, not spoken since the old days of humanity, before the council. I leave the town and begin a long arc back to vestak-cry hoping to cover as much ground as possible in the hopes of not returning empty handed. And so I once more march in the wilderness.      

There's a large pool of water just ahead of me, some creature drinking from it causes ripples to emanate from its long toothy snout. It is hunched down on six legs and its long flowing feathers ripple in the light breeze, I extend my spear and it raises its head reflexively, a pair of ears shoot into the air and it tenses up, it goes to run but it stops, something slowly snakes up its legs and at first I think it's some kind of eel from the water or a serpent of some kind, but then I realise that the vines are pulling the creature into the water it calls out, thrashing in futile desperation. The tips of the vines pierce its skin and it falls still, its large black eyes lose their deep colour and go hazy and it allows itself to be pulled to the bottom of the pond. Completely astounded and with my spear pointed downwards in front of me I cautiously approach the edge of the pond, the water still ripples and I peer down into its depths, I can't see the bottom either due to its murkiness or its depth I can’t tell. A moan calls behind me and I spin around, spear raised, a smaller but much angrier looking version of the beast I watched get devoured is hunched down, it has less hair then the other and it is armed with a large set of chipped horns and long curved teeth. It charges and I stumble to the side narrowly avoiding getting run through. It gracefully turns around and goes for another charge and I thrust the spear at its eye, missing and instead adding another nick to its horns. On its third charge I drop to the ground and brace the end of my spear into the ground as it gores itself with the force of its own charge, I push up and forward against its ribs to keep it away from the edge of the water from which more vines smoothly snake outwards, and it stumbles away. I twist the ring on the pole and it electrifies, the beast cries out and its muscles tense up, while it’s still stunned I pull out the blade and drive it up through its jaw and into the skull, it collapses, and the vines begin to withdraw.

[the sound of Vestak cry, no music but people still talk and move about] Back at Vestak-Cry I drag my blood soaked cloth filled with the chopped up creature to the centre of town, I leave it next to a plastic barrel filled with fresh water and a large bushel of herbs, a meagre offering from a town of people whose value comes from the intellectual realm rather then the physical. Might is still unconscious when I go to check on her, two attendees surround her, sitting and staring into space, waiting for an improvement. “Surely she should be better by now?” I say impatiently to the Dŵrian closest to me, he blinks twice, one lid covering the whole bulging eye from the bottom and then opening again. “they don't talk, vow of silence,” a large hass sits in a rocking chair and is sprinkling some substance into their liquid filled breathing apparatus. “That’s a good thing if you ask me, Dŵrians have a natural sense of superiority. just because they are amphibious, it’s obnoxious.” “Well?” I ask, my attention shifting to the aquatic humanoid “She’s taking her time, that weapon the human carried really did a number on her, that ain't no usual firearm, seemed magical,” He looks me up and down “you’re probably fixin’ for an explanation huh?” I nod  “suppose I can try and provide some illumination. People like us come here to be isolated. This is just a small fragment of who lives here. Most came here by accident ‘cept us that us that is. This planet is uniquely situated so that don’t appear on any maps and cannot be discovered by conventional means,” “How is that possible?” he shrugs, “ maybe the mineral makeup of the planet? Perhaps some ancient artefact buried deep within some hidden temple just waiting for you to go get it,” he says sarcastically and then laughs, “we could spend hours speculating. But the point is that ‘cause of this... phenomenon there are lots of people on this rock who would rather not be, people who had no good reason for being out this far away from hubs of the galaxy if you catch my drift.” Anyone trying to keep out of council monitored widening field routes by using backway lanes and jump points mixed with a planet that doesn't show up on scanners gets you a bunch of unsavoury types on the same planet as other vulnerable and lost people which is never good. He points up at one of the mesas far in the distance, the green mess of the vines gradually becoming more sparse, presumably as whatever gas the plant breathes becomes less abundant. “The group that human is a part of are set up on that plateau there, they came here about 4 months ago, they’ve already set up base out of the ship they came here on, They’re not here on accident, they don't wanna be found. When they got here we thought nothing of it. But then they started expanding outwards. The nearest village, sapiran… well, humans aren't exactly known for their peaceful nature, no offence,” “None taken,” I say, my eyes fixed on might, “and the vines?” I ask “What about them?” he says, surprised at my asking “They cover every square inch of the ground, everywhere I go it grows incredibly densely and it doesn't behave like a plant should, aren't there any vitamancers here? Surely they‘d know something about it?” “The only vitamancy that gets here is by our amphibious friend here,” he points at the Dŵrian who looks absently at the horizon, “hey Bedyw,” the Dŵrian doesn't flinch. The Hass man picks up a chunk of whatever substance he was filtering into his breathing apparatus and flicks it at the Dŵrian who starts and looks at the Hass with visible confusion on their scaled face “you’ve got a vow of silence not a vow of not listening! The vines!”  Bedyw shrugs what do you expect me to do? “I dunno, mime it or something,” They raise their hands and scrunch up their face at the ridiculousness of the idea but go to try and explain anyway. they look me in the eyes and put their hand on the ground tugging at the vines, then they motion the shape of a sphere “the vines cover the whole planet?” they give me a thumbs up. They hold up a single claw and then put their fingers to their temples and draw them away, splaying out their hands and widening their eyes as they do so. “One… dream? One explosion?” they turn to the Hass man and gestures hey I tried.

 “Well that was unhelpful and confusing,” Bedyw does another gesture that I don't recognise but assume is some expletive. “If you don't mind me askin’” the Hass man says taking a deep breath from his breathing tube which sits on around his neck, “what's the deal with you two? Me and Bedyw reckon you're ex-lovers or something” “No it's not like that,” I say “Well what is it like?” I pause, nothing quite describes it really, no one else in the whole universe has been through what we had been through and had lived in the way we had. “It’s more like…we’re siblings, sort of,” “I've got plenty of siblings, some 400, but mama always said I was the special one. how’d you become acquainted then?” “It’s a long story,” “I’ve got time,” “No, it starts at the beginning of life itself in the universe so you really don’t,” “Fair enough,” he grumbles “Sorry, but aren't you more worried about the Anthronesians? Not how I met Might?” “Everything is as it was ever going to be,” The Dŵrian rolls their eyes “Aren't you more worried about what's up with Might?” he asks “I mean sure, but I just have to be patient, she’ll heal in time,” “Not her wounds kid,” he says but then realises how ridiculous he looks calling someone hundreds of thousands of years old ‘kid’ “Can you not see it?” “Oh. right.” “Somethings eatin’ at her, she ain’t been right for the past few weeks. We can all see it, surprised you can’t” “It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen her I just assumed this is how she is now I- I don't know,” Might begins to stir, a deep black sphere appears above her forehead and the air around her starts to shiver, “See?” I say moving over to her “if she’s still having visions, it can't be that bad,” “This ain’t like usual, somethings wrong,” A thin line of black emerges from her eyes like tears streaming upwards into the air and they make contact with the sphere of light hovering above her. The world suddenly turns black and I feel myself brought into her mind.

[the vision realm is harmonious, slightly musical almost, but also tortured and disturbing]

I’m in a small cave, the walls are made of dark strings which splay outwards, through the thick tangle I see the shape of some huge creature move around and snake up and over my head settling behind might who stands at the other end, the tangle of thin lines emanating from behind her, she stands with her hands out,  strings wrapped and tangled between her fingers. “Adam,” she says, her voice travelling along the threads , “We have little time. Eden, you need to get there first, to the start of it all,” A dark shadow appears behind her but neither of us react, as if we had known of its presence long before it arrived. “To leave this place” she pulls down a thread, plucks it and watches the vibrations travel away from her “You must go to the Anthronesians, they have a dissimulation field, they’re hiding something, uncover it” she points and I know where she means, on top of the mesa. The shadow places a pale hand on her shoulder and the lights in her body around where he grips her change into a polychromatic haze, glowing brightly, “after that you don't need to worry, your path will become clear,” “Yeah sure I’ll be totally calm,” she gestures the equivalent of a melancholy smile with her hands, a depth to her feeling lost on me, due to my limited perception of the light spectrum. The shadow grows larger. “If this doesn't work,, will you visit the others? I’m sure they’d like to see you. Well, most of them anyway,” “If what doesn't work?” The haze of rapidly shifting light completely engulfs her body and she draws her sword, pulling the threads wrapped around her fingers down, untangling many of the knots that provide the ceiling and walls with structure. She spins and swings the blade in an upward motion cutting up the shadows chest and severing a few threads in the process. An angry mist of polychrome energy bursts from the wound singing more and severing them. The shadow hatefully grabs might by the mask and throws her to the ground, unfazed she jabs the sword into his forearm and pulls it back toward her. The shadow recoils in shock and might rolls back onto her feet. The darkness around the shadow dissipates and for the first time I see Ovig Nadal in his true intolerable and impossible form,

From his eyeless head which hangs on a long stooped neck a white set of horns wriggle and writhe violently like maggots, and Impossibly and most distressing they are simultaneously still. Two sets of wings protrude out from his back, long and bowed. The edges of his body shiver and shudder, as he moves 7 echoes of his motions follow like ghosts each in a different colour of the light spectrum. His wide and smiling jaw hangs open as he pants, polychrome gas rising from his gullet with each deep breath. This same gas drips in liquid form from his fresh wound. Surrounded by an ashy substance which is the same pallid colour as his skin, His presence emanates outwards, in defiance of the universe and he holds out his slender, clawed hand as if presenting the damage to us. His form refuses to hold a consistent shape, undoubtedly might be witnessing a separate horror however, despite the shifting form, my eyes sting with tears nonetheless.

[The sound of the vision realm is filled with the words that Ovig Nadal is about to speak, mere glimpses hard to discern fully until he says them]

The image of this edgeless horror is known to me; it has festered in the back of my mind since Eden, as it is in all of humanity, all generations proceeding from me are instilled with a fear of him, the impact of my actions seared his image deep into the collective unconscious. “I seek only to free you, you blinded children, you thankless and scornful hordes,” as he speaks the matter which he appears to be made of begins to flake and an ashy substance fills the air. “You are an alien in this universe,” might says, “and in this of all realms you have even less grasp of your place, you are more of concept than of being, but even ideas can be laid to rest and quelled, I banish you, you who would seek to revoke and undo, my mind will not be a battleground for you. So fuck off.” The last of the ash dissipates and the black threads fade to blue and then into nothing, we now stand in a large empty space in which there is the true nothing "That's better," she says and I awaken to the sight of the Dŵrian and the Hass standing over me "You okay kid?" The Hass asks me "Yeah I'm good," "What was that all about?" "Vision realm, extra-dimensional creature had possessed might but it's fine now" The two look at each other and then back to me "Fair enough," might rouses from her sleep as I am pulled to me feet Not one to waste time she speaks before I can "that was weird huh?" "What was that move all about?" "I don't know I just suddenly felt that was was I was meant to do, it felt so right," “So he’s why your visions were different then?” “I guess so, but I’m not sure why he didn't just possess me outright? Its like something was keeping him from completely taking over,” “I didn't think anything could stop his will,” she turns to me, serious now "if you want to deactivate the dissimulation field you're going to have to go now," "No goodbyes?" "We'll see each other again, I'm sure,” "Do you know that or are you just being sentimental," “we’re immortal, the odds are that eventually we’ll run into each other" She roots through one of her pockets "Take this, for your little bag of tricks," She holds out a small bronze sphere, covered in seams and edges "Is this-?" I ask "Yeah," she answers "Holy shit, this is so rare! I don't know if I’ll feel right using it," "Farewell, Adam" "Farewell might-upon-serenity," We refrain from using each other's curse names. I turn and head in the direction of the Mesa, with a simple mission in mind and a trust that my friend will guide me well.

[bubblesthemonsterartist]

Slide (lemon)

Professional Cuddler AU Masterlist

One would think that Dr. Shirayuki Lyon has been blessed with an interesting life. Never a dull, mundane moment to be had. If you were to believe the tabloids, at least. 

When she was eighteen, she fled her country, befriended the Prince of the neighboring state, and immediately enrolled in Royal Medical School. There, she had the dubious honor of becoming the obsession of paparazzi and journalists and… eccentric nobility alike. Some just wanted her picture through the heavy shade of trees, leaning in close to their beloved Prince. Something to put on a glossy front page. Most, however, were hungry to tear her apart.

Much to their chagrin, she did not give them much fodder. First by passing all her marks, top of the class. Then by becoming the second youngest resident Lilias Research Hospital had ever seen. She was the primary researcher on the Olin Maris Project, pleading her case to parliament, knights circles, to Kings, and meeting success in every direction.

But what no one seems to know, or rather, what no one seems to care about other, is that she also has chronic insomnia exacerbated by a panic disorder. According to the hospital psychiatry department.

Strange how that particular detail never made it into the news.

Not that she was complaining. It’s not that much of a surprise, though. It used to just be generalized anxiety… once, when she could blame her GPA. Or her MCAT. Likely her residency, too. But that was in the past. She has a job now. A career. Respect in her field and esteem among her peers. She should be falling into her bed, curling into that memory foam mattress Yuzuri insisted she buy and luxuriating in a well-deserved rest, but-

Things have changed.

These days, it’s not rote memorization or endless case studies or even the errant photographer outside her window that has her startling awake, heart pounding, but crushed metal and the splatter of water echoing off of empty walls. Each night, with heavy eyes and a heavier heart, she slides between her sheets and hopes that it will be better. And a not so small part of her begrudges her in her younger days, smiling away classmates concerns by proclaiming, I’ll sleep when I have my MD.

What an arrogant child she had been.

But things were… getting better. Slowly. Surely. 

The cameramen and journalists were gone now, for one, off to cover more exciting things than a doctor in mourning. And for every shift she arrived at, vision blurred and eyes gritty, there was a fresh cup of coffee being pushed into her hands by a smiling face, Yuzuri already cheerfully detailing What Kazaha had done this time as Shirayuki slowly reacquainted herself with the world of the living. For every hint of migraine threatening to hole her up in a dark room for just a moment of peace, there was Suzu, flapping some new article in her face, Can you believe the National Endowment funded this tripe? There was Shidan, eyes sliding right past her as he reassigned her to pediatrics when the ER became too much. Ryuu, who would tug on her sleeve as she passed by, claiming he needed an extra set of eyes in the lab. And Garrack, dragging her to a nearby bar to “catch up” whenever she was in town, only to ply her with a shot of gin and a stern reminder to eat.

She was blessed, really, with so much kindness. So many helping hands and warm smiles and gentle encouragement that made each passing day since the accident that much easier. It was therefore that much more frustrating that even with all this support, it still wasn’t enough to get her through the night.

This, however, sometimes was.

Sleep lifts from her sweetly on an inhale, and she wakes as content and warm as her childhood days, buried beneath one of her grandmothers winter quilts in the depths of winter. Everything is hazy, but in a good way. Weighted down into her mattress, there’s a familiar sort of heat at her back, one that has become nearly second nature in the last few months, even more so when mixed with the smell and sound of home.

Home…

Her eyelashes flutter, taking in the shadows of her dresser, her closet door, the lamp on her nightstand, and- that’s right. This isn’t the studio. She invited Obi over to her place. To spend the night. To sleep, even, with all the rules of the Cuddle Clinic and none of the time restraints.

Breath pours out from her, body curling deeper into his hold and seeking every inch of that heat. With just a little wiggle, the low of his belly is flush against her, knees stacked on top of the other like the right pieces to a puzzle, and his hips fitted snugly against her ass.

Behind her, Obi grunts, disturbed, his arms tightening and pulling her closer still. It’s… nice. Pleasant enough to let her eyes fall closed, to let her barely there wakefulness unravel - there’s no need to be awake anyhow, but-

There’s pressure. A wanting sort of yawn between her legs. Desire, warm and sleep damp, but- that’s not unique. The heat coiled deep in her belly is safe and… manageable. It’s always an ever present burn, simmering on low during their sessions and this time is no different. Obi’s doing his job - a rather admirable one if she says so herself - and it’s only natural that her body react. It’s been so long, after all, and she’s so rarely touched these days-

Breath fans out across her neck, palms flexing against her with a sleepy groan, and Shirayuki’s brain fizzles out, overridden by the way her body is suddenly aware.

O- oh.

At her breast one broad hand, tipped with calluses and worked hard, cradles her, the palm of his other branding the flare of her hip, thumb sweeping the jut of her hip bone and-

Shirayuki inhales sharply, thighs clenching against the sudden rush of heat. Catching a whimper between her teeth, she carefully brushes her fingers across the fine bones of his, past the knob of his wrist and the flex of his forearm, dipping towards her own body and confirming what she already suspected. And maybe, in some shameful, hidden place in her heart, wished for.

Her nightshirt has ridden up, all the way to her armpits. She’s bare skin all the way from toes to shoulders and snug against his clothed crotch and torso. The arm circling her stretches her shirt as far as it can go, to the point that the scratch of flannel blanket is more present against her skin than the touch of cotton.

Shirayuki bites her lips, struck breathless, and God, why did she think scheduling overnight service was a good thing? She’s so wet, she can feel it against her thighs and when she remembers to inhale, the skin of his inner forearm so soft again her exposed ribcage, and she- she squirms, involuntary-

Head thudding back to rest against his collarbone, Shirayuki takes a deep breath- tries to steady it out- and this was- this was fine. She was fine. Obi grunts again, the hand cradling her hip shifting her back, other arm banding tighter around her, and oh- oh-

Right against her inner thigh, she feels it. Through well worn fabric, the swollen length of him, half-hard, rests just so against her inner thigh.

And she’s awake now, fully, panting and flushed, the heat between her legs nearly unbearable. All it would take is a shift in angle, a slight parting of her legs, and she could- she could feel him completely, grind herself against his cock and-

And see what he was like when he was ready.

Shirayuki shakes herself, rubbing her thighs together to ease some of the pressure. No, no, this was fine. Manageable and... fine.

Obi makes a sound too like a whimper for comfort, mouth relaxed in sleep resting against her skin in a way that makes her shiver. Stubble drags along the line of her jaw, his lips just barely touching the shell of her ear, and- she’s only human. She moans, the sound slipping from her more like a whine, arching into his palm and it moves, just slightly, his thumb dragging around an already peaked nipple, forefinger coming around to pinch and roll-

Her low back arches like a cats, ass pressing back so she can feel the growing length of him against slip against her.

“Obi,” she gasps.

All at once, he breathes in, starting out long and pleasant before turning sharp, and it’s not fair how quickly he wakes up, the safe relaxed strength of his body going rigid.

“Miss,” he starts, voice rough with sleep, and she wants to tell him more, that she wants to hear him say more against her skin, but he’s pulling his hands away, pulling his body away.

Her hands latch around his wrists, holding him in place, and she rolls her head along his shoulder, arching her neck up to see his face.

“Don’t stop,” she breathes, catching just the shape of his eye as it widens and she lets go of the hand at her breast to reach up and urge his head down. His hair is so soft. “Please. Don’t stop.”

“Ha-” is the only answer she gets before his mouth is on hers, soft and giving and wet as he groans against her mouth. Lips parting to his urging, she opens to him, reaching up with her other hand to sink all her fingers into the bristle of his hair and he slides his tongue against hers, so good it must be sin. Her ankle hooks around his calf, and he tastes like sleep, but- ah, ahh-

The palm at her hip scratches up her stomach, taking her other breast fully in hand and he rolls both her nipples between his fingers.

Shirayuki cries out, body surging up into his hands, and Obi takes the advantage, tilting his head to press his kisses deeper, harder, dirtier, and she grinds back against him, each little spark of pleasure muffled by his lips and tongue, ah, ahh, Ahhh-

For as often as she’s imagined this, for as gentle as he is with her in their sessions, it still comes as a surprise with the way his hold doesn’t bruise, how he can be filled with so much restrained strength even as he takes her in his palms and squeezes.

The sessions-

“Wait,” she pulls back, panting against his lips, toes curling when he whines with want into her mouth. “Wait, Ah-” Her eyelashes flutter, swallowing hard when he pinches, and he does- stop, that is, parted lips resting against hers and he just… breathes into her mouth. “Aren’t you still working?”

“I’m off the clock,” he murmurs, voice raspy like gravel, tongue flicking on her lower lip.

“Oh,” she gasps, fingers fisting in his hair. “Okay.”

Obi hisses, teeth bared against her lips, but he rears back, cock twitching impatiently against her backside.

“Rules?” he grits.

It takes her a moment, maybe even two, but she gains enough clarity to stare at him in disbelief.

“You haven’t gone too far yet.” She bites at his lower lip, goading him to come back to her. “I’ll let you know if you do.”

That’s all he seems to need. Groaning, he takes her mouth again, rolling her beneath him and his hands are everywhere. His palms catch against her ribs, against her thighs, grasping beneath her knees and lifting them sharply up to coil around his waist.

“How are you so damn soft?” he complains breathlessly against her neck, the hard line of his cock flush against her sex as his lips drag across her pulse, teeth nipping at the line of her jaw.

“Salt baths,” she manages, mindlessly running her hands over his shoulders, over his neck, rolling her hips up-

He pulls his away, back shaking, and noses her nightshirt towards her chin. “Is that so?” he murmurs against skin, biting the valley between her breasts.

“Mm.” She can barely see, let alone form words, so it’s something of a miracle that she opens her mouth and says, “It’s very nice. You should try- Ah!”

Obi’s mouth is… very nice. And distracting. Every time he uses it, he finds a better application, a better way to steer her away from her thoughts, and this time is no different. It’s opening, taking her whole nipple inside and sucking, wetly laving at her nipple and nibbling at its peak.

Writhing beneath him, straining against his hands, part of her considers how strange it is that she thought she would feel guilt if she ever… had a chance at being touched like this again. Stranger still how she feels anything but.

His fingers tease across her legs, flirting with the crease of her thighs. And when his knuckles brush against her damp curls, guilt is the last thing on her mind.

“Please, please, please-” she chants, nearly sobbing, grabbing hold of the pillow above her head for dear life.

Humming against her skin, he trades one breast for another, knuckles slipping through her folds, testing-

“Fuck,” he hisses, one finger extended to dip into her entrance. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

Whining, Shirayuki bucks her hips, exchanging her grip on the pillow for her own hair. “Then do something about-”

He does. One finger slips deep inside her, crooking just right, and her vision goes white.

“Obi!” Her hands are scrambling now, holding him to her as his mouth slides down the curve of her breasts, licking at the line of her ribs, and he pumps his hand, slow and steady, a second finger sliding in just as easy as the first.

“I got-” She loses track of what she’s got, knees falling to the side when his thumb brushes her clit. Obi hums, interested, pressing a kiss to the dip of her solar plexus.

Hand slamming against the top of her nightstand, it wildly slaps against the surface, knocking over books and her phone until she finds the handle of the drawer and flings it open. Mindlessly reaching inside, she grabs hold of the sharp edges of a paperboard and throws it in Obi’s direction.

It bounces harmlessly off of his arm and Obi lifts his head, grunting a question.

“That’s-” She gestures towards it, she thinks, staring sightlessly at her ceiling. “That’s for you.”

His fingers still in her all the way to the last knuckle, Obi lays his weight on her and takes it in his free hand. “Why, Miss,” he purrs, thumb brushing her clit in reward and she- she whimpers.

“Hurry,” she pants, the flat of her feet against his ribs, coaxing him up.

The box returns to the bed with a dull rattle. “In a minute,” he grins, dropping his mouth back to her belly.

She doesn’t have a minute. She doesn’t even have a second, not with the way she aches. Not with the way each slow pump of his hand makes it worse and not better.

He exhales, sharp and through his nose, the cool air fanning right above the hair of her sex, and that’s all the warning she gets before his mouth his on her, lips circling her clit while his fingers stab sharp and deep.

She screams.

So many things fall from her tongue after that, so many sweet and terrifying and lovely things, but she can’t remember any of them, so completely lost in the way his tongue drags, his fingers curl, his mouth sucks-

It’s really no wonder that she comes apart as quickly as she does, so completely and unapologetically.

Her lungs are burning when she finds herself again, her chest heaving, and Obi is still there, tucked between her legs and kissing her thighs, fingers deep inside her.

“Obi.” She wriggles against his hand, gasping at the sudden jolt of pleasure, and she’s so greedy. “Please. The- you have to- condom-”

Two gold eyes peek up at her, sly and dark, his mouth still pressed against skin. “Condom?” he murmurs, and any other time she would be annoyed at the smug curl of his lips, but-

This was an emergency.

Shirayuki nods rapidly, hands already back in his hair and dragging her to him. “Yes. That.”

His mouth swallows up anything else that he may have said, tasting a little bitter and a little smokey and it makes her strain against him, hopelessly seeking out some bare part of him that can touch her.

Obi takes her by the hips, dragging her down and aligning her sex with his. He’s growling with he pulls back, when he grasps at the mess of blankets for the box and nothing happens when he shakes it.

“Wait,” he pauses, tearing his attention from her long enough to squint at it. “Is this a new box?”

“Why are you still talking?” she whines, grinding her sex against the line of his erection.

A strangled groan leaves him, the sound of paperboard tearing open and plastic tearing along the perforated edge nearly drowned out. Her hands are already at the stretchy waistband of his pajamas when he tears the packaging open with his teeth, pushing them down just far enough that his cock springs free.

Oh.

Oh my.

She’s not given nearly enough time to enjoy the view. His fingers shake when he wraps them around himself, rolling the condom down the length of him, and her hand joins his, pushing it down faster.

He hisses and laughs in equal measure, mouth opening, likely to tease, but she fists her fingers in his shirt with her other hand, pulling him down and-

Ah!

God, it’s been so long, and she was expecting some difficulty, some pain from not being used for such a length of time, but the soft head of his dick parts her lips, disappearing inside her slowly, easily. He fills her up, stuffing her full, and she opens to him just as effortlessly, stretching around the girth of him and wholly thankful for it. Two fingers were not nearly enough.

She can’t breathe fast enough, hands somehow beneath his shirt, petting down the soft skin of his back. “Obi... Oh god, yes...”

Groaning against her neck, his fingers clench on the swell of her hip, pressing her down into the mattress as he slides in all the way and, oh, this is why Yuzuri recommended the memory foam-

When his hips stop, flush to hers, his chest is heaving, whole body trembling. “Miss,” he pants into her hair. “Miss-”

Her ankles hook around his back, hips bucking against his. “Shirayuki,” she whines, nails dragging down his back. “Say my name, Obi.”

“Haa, yes,” he moans like he’s dying, drawing out. “Yes, Shirayuki-”

His pace is fast, deep, leaving her body only by half before surging back forward, filling her up and driving her into the mattress. He keeps one hand at the nape of her neck and the small of her back, pressing her to him as he sinks into her again and again, each thrust that hits her right there drawing out a cry that she muffles against the fabric of his shirt.

“Shirayuki,” he moans over and over like he is making up for lost time, tilting her head back to whimper it again into her mouth. His hands slide up her thighs, lifting her into his thrusts and she wraps her arms around his head and neck, keening against his lips, taking him in every way that she can.

Her body is hot, burning, and her toes sneak beneath the stretch of his waistband, pushing it down so her toes can curl against the hard muscles of his ass, feeling their flex as he pushes deeper, harder-

His pace stutters, no longer smooth but frantic, and he’s still swallowing every one of her breaths and cries when his hand slides up her thigh so his thumb can brush where they join-

She comes so hard tears gather at the corner of her eyes, riding him out as he rides her, as his hips slap desperately against hers and he groans out a high keening noise. With one last surge that nearly drives her up the bed, he comes to a stop. Shivering against her skin, his breath catches and then shakes out of him, and his hips jerk a few times more, trying to press himself deeper before he just… melts, all at once, face landing on the pillow next to her.

“Ha,” he swallows hard, gasping when his hands flexing against her skin one more time. “Haa, I didn’t-”

Shirayuki’s mouth finds his neck, lips catching the rapid rhythm of his heart and holding it beneath her tongue and teeth.

Sighing, the tension pours out of him again, hips squirming against hers. “Ah, ah, stop,” he laughs, breathless. “You’re going to get me started again.”

With a pleased grin, she does, looking up at him beneath the fan of her lashes when he pulls back just far enough to look her in the eyes. When his forehead touches hers, there’s a question there. One that she answers with a smile.

Shirayuki tugs him back down to her, sliding her lips against his, tender and soft, and whatever tension was left in them pour out of them both all at once. Legs sliding down his side, she lets them collapse onto the bed with a whimper and he sighs, pulling his body from hers.

Sitting back on his heels, Obi hisses, just a little, the wet slap of latex echoing somewhere in the dark, and he just… sits there. On his knees. With a mussed head of hair, a used condom in hand, and an adorable look of bufflement on his face as he looks helplessly around the room.

“Next to the nightstand.” Her arm flails absently. She has no energy to do more than that.

Bracing one arm against the mattress, he leans out, neck arching as he seeks out the bin. The second after she hears a dull thud, he collapses onto the bed next to her, drawing him to her.

“Was that okay?” he whispers into her hair, petting back the sticky strands of hair that cling to her face.

Her hands snake under his shirt again, and it’s cool and damp like their skin. “More than.”

[cloudbattrolls]

Lagan

Etuuya Vannyn | Present Night | Tulais Leisure Ship

The light from the transportalizer fades, and you stand in Tulais’s ship. A water ship, not the aircraft you’ve heard she has.

Distant shouts and laughter drift to your ears, and you grimace, turning to see multicolored flashing lights through the window in the strangely empty room you’re standing in. Is she planning to show you off like some sort of grotesque trophy? Surely not.

You open the window and lean out, only now realizing how big this vessel is, seeing the lights are at least a hundred feet away, as are the noises. It’s almost like a cruise ship in size, but built in a far more old-fashioned style. A sea breeze blows through your wavy hair as you gaze up at the stars, wondering why you’ve been left unattended.

It’s...nice.

No Rivali. No suspicious, fearful company trolls. No one you have to pretend for.

You whistle softly, hands in the pockets of your shabby jeans. It’s an old tune about a warrior forever searching for adventure on the sea. It makes you think of summersong.

Now there’s some peak foolishness, you note with amusement at yourself. But you can’t help it. Far better to enjoy the company of someone even worse than yourself than a decent troll. You can’t ever hurt Jeluno and you mean nothing to her except as a source of amusement, so what’s the harm? 

Well. Plenty, if she really does find a way to make her own drinkers. You wonder why she’s so fixated on it anyway; you didn’t for a moment believe she was incapable of fighting them off herself with the use of her crew and weapons. She’s bragged too many times about the technology she’s stolen.

So there must be some other reason, and it’s unlikely to be good news for anybody.

What’s she going to do, go hunt the caverns for it? You think dismissively. She doesn’t have that much patience, a young thing like her. 

Or she could rip one out of some other drinker she found. 

Would that really be a loss? Your kind has no value. 

“Is it true drinkers will seduce people to feed on them?”

Your quietude is over, apparently, since you turn and see Tulais in the doorway, wearing a skimpy outfit that makes you avert your eyes. She may not be a child, but she’s still young. Younger than summersong, certainly, and therefore too young to be looking at when dressed that way. 

“I’m sorry, are you expecting me to answer that? I’ve never seduced anyone in my life, thank you very much. Even monsters have standards, you know. Maybe normal drinkers do it, I don’t exactly hold interviews.”

Normal drinkers aren’t you, but it’s still sickening to want to pail one’s food sources. The fact that there’s a not inconsiderable portion of trolls into that is one of the great mysteries of Alternia. 

She laughs, and you definitely smell alcohol on her. This is going to be terrible, isn’t it. 

“Normal drinkers.” she says, scoffing. “Do you even know what that means, Vannyn?”

“Is there a reason I’m here, miss Tulais? Can I know it now, please? I’m sure you’d love to get back to your little get-together. Also, and not to sound like your lusus, please put something else on.”

She sniffs in a mildly offended way. “You really are old, huh?”

“I rent myself out to museums. It’s a great earner.”

She laughs again. You wouldn’t mind the inebriated levity if this weren’t also your boss. As it is, you’d rather be anywhere but here.

There’s a shuffle of clothing and when you dare to turn around again she’s wearing a jacket, at least, even if her skirt is still rather short. Small mercies, you suppose.

“Much appreciated. So. Why am I here?”

She takes a small vial out of the jacket pocket and drinks it, then looks at you with what you can tell, even from their silly surgically altered dark color, are clearer, more sober eyes.

The teal sits down at the room’s desk and turns on a softly glowing lamp shaped like a lantern. 

You let your own glow show for a moment, out of pure absurd pique. I can do that too. 

She doesn’t smile. Yes, this is the woman you know; staring you down, deciding your fate.

“To tell you something important. I assume as a rainbowdrinker, you already know more of your kind than I ever will, but I doubt you or any others know what I’ve discovered. It took a sweep of searching for me to find it, and I have accesses many trolls can only dream of.”

You don’t even bother to hide your severe lack of investment in what she’s saying, emphasizing it by picking dirt from under your claws. It’s rude, yes, but so is her assuming you care. Would she be interested in any random fact about trollkind?

“Tell me, Vannyn; what do you know of the angel worshipping sects?”

“They’re out to lunch, the empire doesn’t like them, and they think a bunch of winged snakes will come destroy the world and then make it new again.”

Now she laughs, a much more subdued and annoyingly knowing one than when she was tipsy. 

“Most trolls only see that surface. But you know how deceiving surfaces are.”

“Oh, no, miss, this is my first night out of caverns and papà forbade mirrors lest I fall victim to vanity.” You retort dryly. 

You’re probably digging yourself a mile-deep grave, but honestly. What other kind of response does that deserve?

Fortunately, she merely snorts.

“Modern angel worshipping cults are full of nothing but the delusional and desperate, yes. The old ones, sects that can be traced almost all the way back to the dawn of the Empire itself, contain grains of truth in their texts. Things trollkind has otherwise forgotten.”

You’re silent, waiting for her to get to the point already. 

“When I first met you, I thought you must be an anomaly. A fluke of nature. As I thought about it more, I realized no fluke could survive so long, flourish even. Why weren’t there more of you?”

Your fists clench. Tulais knows you were imperial property, but you and Rivali never told her the details. Even jadepup recognized how unwise it was to hand that knowledge over, and you trust their hatred of your nature to keep them quiet. 

“I found Lifeweaver’s research and thought that explained it, but when reading his notes I found something strange. Much of the data was gone, but he’d written an explanation of where he’d first gotten the idea: an angel sect’s record of all the creatures that once roamed Alternia but had long ago gone extinct.”

You want her to stop talking. You want the boat to sink, you want the room to catch on fire and take you with it. Anything.

“This sect spoke of how one of the creatures it worshipped had fallen, lost its wings due to disgrace, and assumed the shape of a troll. Yet this was merely a shell, for inside it was a conglomeration of worms - tiny snakes, in the original text - ever seeking troll blood to replace the divine feeling it had lost. Weaker than a seadweller, but faster than any troll, it could infect other creatures around it and control them, as well as turn them into lesser copies of itself.”

No no no no no no no no no -

Your elbows are digging into the floor before you realize you’ve fallen to your knees, clutching your head in your hands, not caring that the sharp tines of your horns rip your skin. 

It’s not like you can bleed.

“This is a story!” You say, with a very forced lighthearted tone. “A monster tale for wrigglers. Perhaps my wretched ancestor was inspired by it, but that doesn’t mean it's true. Why do you believe anything these fools wrote?”

She nods in an infuriatingly calm way, her faintly luminescent flower tattoos gleaming as she moves.

“I wouldn’t accept it as fact from the word of only one source. So I found others. Texts in languages long since dead, that I had painstakingly translated for me.”

“What did they say?” You ask, looking up at her from between the spaces of your fingers, voice hoarse and barely a whisper. “What else was there about my supposed fellows?”

The young, whole, living troll gives you a look of calculating curiosity and also, sickeningly, a hint of platonic pity. As if she has any right.

“Multiple records referred to the creature in different ways, some attributing abilities that couldn’t possibly be real, but there were enough consistencies in unrelated accounts that confirmed it: several drinkers like you existed once, whatever their true origin was. Perhaps they were even the progenitors of the more common kind that exist tonight.”

You want to bite her. You want to bite yourself. You want to bite everyone on this empress-damned ship, then sink it, so that all of this can end here and never be repeated.

“They died off for a reason.” You snarl, your face twisting with hate. “They should’ve stayed dead and gone, and Rhomox should’ve left well enough alone! But he never could, could he? Do you know how many Vannyns he killed?”

You spring to your feet and slam your hands on her desk, and her ears pin. Her teal pupils go slit in fear. One hand goes with a flash to what must be her sylladex, pulling at something.

“Dozens. Dozens at least. He paid caverns to produce more, and more, until finally he got me, his perfect little test subject. Someone who actually wanted to be a monster. Oh, I wanted it so badly, miss Tulais. I loved the idea of a cavern in my grip, terrified I could see into their very minds. Knowing if they spared a mutant, if they broke any law, I would eat them alive.”

You smile, twisted, bitter from memories.

“Rhomox didn’t need worms to make me an abomination, but he ensured I would remain one forever because of his designs.”

You back off from the desk, rage cooling to dull apathy. Natural, unnatural. Does it matter which you are? Does it matter if, once upon a time, other creatures like you walked the planet?

It can’t matter. 

You exist thanks to the suffering of others, and by rights you should be dead.

“I thought you’d be more interested.” She says, after a pause. “I guess I was wrong.”

She shrugs, stretches her arms, then looks at you again.

“Tescin is so afraid of you, but mostly you hate yourself. You don’t resent trollkind at all, do you?”

You snort. “I think lots of trolls are just as bad as me, worse sometimes, with less right. The species has plenty of room for improvement. They have that power, and I don’t. That’s what really separates us.”

She gives you a strange look, the wind ruffling her long hair. 

“In the stories, the first drinker Ozryel was originally a guardian of trollkind, until they fell due to their desire to understand us on a physical level, and drank blood. For that they were cast down, and became worms. But they began as a savior.”

You remember Tierel’s face, the features of a troll with nothing left to lose. Who would turn even to you for hope in a world drained of it by the Empire.

How delusional. So you’ve saved some people. What of it? You killed scores if not hundreds of fleet on the same night and enjoyed it. Not because they were a danger to the townsfolk, not because fleet is corrupt - no, you know very well you loved killing them because you could. Because their blood gave you the power you’ve always craved.

No matter how you play at decency, at being a person, you’re only a weapon that’s just as dangerous to the people it protects. 

“They never rose again, did they?” You retort. “They stayed a monster, and spawned other beasts to feed on trollkind thanks to their selfishness.”

You hadn’t thought Tulais was so foolish and sentimental. At least jadepup understands what drinkers really are.

Inexplicably, the teal smiles.

“Who’s to say Ozryel doesn’t stand in front of me in a way, trying for another chance at redemption? For all your talk, you still go on rescue missions. You’ve done well obeying me since Darkfall; you even helped those Imperial aides.”

You roll your bright jade eyes.

“Those aides weren’t a danger to anyone. It was only a few hours of trouble to get them hive, and what would’ve been the point of letting them drown?”

Your crew had acted like you were insane, but you’d insisted. It wasn’t like they’d been soldiers. Just a bunch of silly political trolls stranded on an island in a flood.

“Anyway, little acts of charity don’t change what I am. Ask the quadrants of all those fleet I killed; they’re surely still grieving. Ask the recruits I’m sure were put in their places, maybe not even ready for the battlefield, possibly dead by now too. I’m here for you to use me as best you can. I wasn’t made for idealistic nonsense.”

“What about your charge?”

Of course she’d drag Uunive in. You should’ve seen it coming.

“A mistake.” You say sharply. “I hurt her badly with my lies. She deserves far better.”

There’s that obnoxious look of platonic pity again. Doesn’t Tulais get that feeling remorse about something doesn’t make it right? 

“You really are determined to not see any good in yourself.”

“There's none to see.” You growl. “Having standards isn’t redeeming, it’s basic and fixes nothing. Ask jadepup sometime; they’ll blather a lot, but they’re hardly wrong about me.”

“What if you got your own rooms? It’s about time, isn’t it. No doubt Tescin would appreciate it too. I can include a spare recuperacoon for your charge’s visits.”

You blink, then squint at her.

“What’s the catch?”

“I’d like you to assemble your own force from our allies in space for a new set of missions. You would answer to myself and my executive assistants, but would otherwise have free reign for field command during enemy engagement.”

Confusion simmers in your mind until you get it, except you don’t. Suspicious, your lips pull back, fingers clasped as you try to figure out her game.

“You want me back in combat?”

Her eyebrows raise as her painted teal claws tap the desk.

“If we’re to get off this planet in ten sweeps or less and begin our journey in time for the Empire to not catch up, the path needs to be clear. Your goal will be to destroy communications and sabotage mapping, but collateral is unavoidable.”

It’s her dismissive tone that makes you hate her. One of you is a monster, but the other is uncaring. It’s not that being invested makes you more moral; if anything, it only adds to your perversity. But Tulais should at least have that bare minimum. 

“You sound just like Fleet.”

Funnily enough, you’ve stopped caring about being disrespectful.

Her lips pull back in real offense, not the drunken huffiness of earlier.

“Dismissed, Vannyn.”

You turn and walk to the transportalizer with a pointed spring in your step, but right when you’re about to step on it she speaks again.

“Do you understand what you could do? You don’t have to believe the story; believe in the morale boost it would give. People would treat you differently.”

You turn and look at her, from her black eyes to her tattooed skin, her jacket and her bare legs.

“Even you thought I’d bite you tonight, didn’t you? At a second’s notice, you were ready to shoot me with some clever heat laser no doubt kept on you at all times.”

The look of guilt mixed with resentment and offense is enough of an answer.

You laugh softly.

“Be honest with yourself, miss Tulais. It’s so much less trouble.”

With a rush of light, you’re transported back hive. Rivali’s not here, but there’s a gently steaming cup of tea on the table; they’ll be back soon. You wonder if your boss really means to give you separate quarters.

She’s a new kind of nonsense, urging you to be positive but fearing, just like everyone would, that you’d still turn on her and tear out her throat. The teal has no need to play games, so why does she bother?

As if helping people would ever change how they saw you. As if you deserved that to begin with. 

Still, you’d like to know more about the story.

Your body goes still as stone. That’s not your thought.

“So! Having a rare opinion, are you?”

There’s no response. There never has been; you’d go mad if there was. Worms don’t think in words, in sentences. They hardly think at all.

But just as they inhabit you, you inhabit them. At least, so you believe; perhaps you’ve been hallucinating all these long sweeps. Rhomox certainly thought you were.

Rhomox, dead because his worms lashed out without your command.

Every so often, you’ll get an emotion, a prickling on the neck, a feeling that doesn’t match whatever’s on your mind. Reminding you why you’re still here, despite your best attempts.

“You're all curious, hm? Well, shove it. Your husk is entirely disinterested, and I make most of the decisions in this hive. None of you get a vote due to past crimes.”

If you were in the mood, you’d rip several out and crush them as a lesson. A completely ineffective one, but the dying bodies always make you feel a vindictive sort of satisfaction. 

Karina is right not to trust you, for who knows what else the worms have slid into your thinkpan, subtle things you may never detect? 

Ozryel. Could the tale exist - could it even refer to true events - or is it just another fabrication? An invention of Karina’s to suit her purposes?

All that you are is a lie, but even you don’t know exactly how deep that lie goes.

END

[halogensleep]

pour your gasoline on me (let’s burn the whole world down) Ch. 4

It took some bargaining, some desperation on her part that was thinly disguised as a professional interest in making sure there were no loose ends, but Laszlo came through and sent new document papers via the courier. One trip to the market later, and she was officially Lisa Marie Brooke, John Hopkins University alumni, administrator of the international medical volunteer programme, a meek brunette woman in hideous khakis and Christian rock apparel, and Charlotte even went so far as to wear a crucifix she pickpocketed from an elderly woman’s neck on route to the hospital. To her surprise, she didn’t catch aflame.

“Name?” The nurse behind the desk didn’t look up from her computer screen.

Charlotte pushed her authorisation badge over the counter, and the badge was nothing more than fake membership card for the travelling sisterhood of Jesus that she had swiped from a missionary’s key ring on the way here, but she was fairly certain the nurse was too used to westerners coming and going to bother checking.

“Lisa Brooke,” Charlotte cleared her throat and put it back in her pocket. “I’m with the medical missionary programme out of Hopkins, we got a phone call this morning that a western woman was brought in without papers or identification. A possible robbery gone wrong? One of our students has been missing since last night.” She pushed a curt smile. “Just here to double check it isn’t her.”

“Do you have a missing persons report for your student?” The nurse leaned back in her seat. “I can take it and run a check.”

“She’s only been missing since last night.” Lisa Brooke was a very concerned and decent Christian woman, Charlotte decided. “I know what you’re thinking, and sure, she might have just stayed out all night, we are in an exciting foreign country after all… but Rebecca would never miss morning prayer circle.” She gravely shook her head.

“Without a police report—”

“Do you have a daughter?” Charlotte interrupted with a hard swallow. The nurse paused and blinked, clearly thinking about someone dear to her. “I know this isn’t protocol but… I really need to check and make sure she’s not here. Can you just look up your admissions and see if a caucasian woman came in last night without papers? Her parents… they’re worried to death.”

“Do you have a picture of your student?” The nurse waned.

“Shoot!” Charlotte slapped the counter and stared at the ceiling in disbelief. “I… I don’t… but I can tell you that she has ginger hair and brown eyes? And the last time we saw her she was wearing a beige coat? Does that help?”

The nurse nodded and rose from her seat with a kind smile. “Let me see what I can do, when people come in without identification we take photographs for the police to use. I’ll see if I can find the prints from admissions last night.”

“You’re a good person,” Charlotte sighed and scratched her wig. “Thank you.”

…

There were tubes coming from the troublemaker. Her eyes were half closed, the same as her lips, which were cradling yet more disconnected tubes that had been taped in place over her cheeks. The troublemaker was no longer a troublemaker, she was a vessel, an empty shell, a bandaged broken little thing that simply couldn’t be resuscitated.

Charlotte stared at the photograph in the front page of the file and felt things she had never felt before, she felt her heart clench and refuse reality, she felt her chest blindly refuse to move, as if there were a deep gash in the bottom, as if she had no need for air. On the outside, she remained indifferent and collected, thoughtful but personally untouched by the death.

Charlotte thumbed the file over and ran her pointer finger along the keywords, who the paramedics were on scene, who the on-call doctor was last night, which nurses administered what drugs, who attempted resuscitation, who announced the time of death.

The nurse cleared her throat and gently prised the file out of her hands, and for a second she said nothing, she just set a hand on the grieving woman’s thigh.

“That’s not my girl,” Charlotte reassured in order to save face, her expression slightly remorseful. “That poor woman. I’m just… so sad but relieved that it’s not Rebecca.” The nod was decisive on the matter.

“Are you sure this woman isn’t who you’re looking for?” The nurse lifted a brow.

“Positive.” Charlotte nodded again and maintained the facade. “Why do you ask?”

“The circumstances of her death were confusing. I’m sure you’ve heard the news, three government officials were killed in a gangland attack last night… unfortunately she was caught in the chaos. The police have a lot of questions.” Her expression was a severe one.

“I wish I could help,” Charlotte lied and brushed her knees, standing out of the plastic waiting room chair with a resolute look on her face. “Maybe if I could see her…” She needed to see the body, she needed to know for certain that the troublemaker was gone. “Well, I’m certain it isn’t Rebecca. I just feel as though I should pray for the girl.” She scratched her head and pulled the excuse out of her ass.

“Not possible, she was taken to the mortuary this morning. You can file a request with the coroner but unless you can positively identify her, well, it’s a police matter.” The nurse smiled curtly. “I hope you find your friend, Ms Brooke.”

“Thanks,” Charlotte whispered.

…

“Queen? Where the fuck are you?” Laszlo was infuriated, exasperated, relieved that Charlotte had finally answered the phone but barely containing the rage that a month had past without contact. “Tell me they didn’t catch up to you?!”

“I’m fine, I’m fine. I’m just laying low,” Charlotte mumbled and rubbed her headache.

“I can fucking see that!” Laszlo burst. “What would possess you.” He stopped abruptly, and Charlotte could tell he was pinching his nose. “Why did Becky show up?”

“I ask myself the same question, often.”

“You didn’t know?”

“She showed up, she died because of it. I tied up the loose ends and got the hell out of there. From the looks of things the Filipinos have put it to bed as a bad business deal with the Chinese cartels. You got what you wanted… I’m sorry it wasn’t cleaner.” Charlotte peered out to the rolling hills and green fields beyond the kitchen window, completely unsure of herself anymore. “Take twenty percent off my fee for the trouble. I’ll call you when I’m back in the neighbourhood—”

“When are you coming home?”

“What is it to you?”

“I’ve lost one of my girls!” Laszlo hissed and paused, and after a second there was a remorseful sigh. “She was very good at her job, and she made me laugh. I’m sad that she is dead and I want you close by so I can keep an eye on you.”

“Fuck off, Laszlo.” Charlotte scoffed and wanted to hang up the phone, though she hung on to her last nerve and brought it back up to her ear to finish her point. “Becky was a clinical psychopath, she would have killed you the second somebody paid for the hit.”

“But she never pretended otherwise, and she never asked me to believe otherwise,” Laszlo said it as if it truly meant something more than he could put into words. “She was naughty, like a little girl, but she always made me laugh when she came over for dinner. You are always naughty too… but with her it was different… she was… Becky.” He sighed, sadly.

“Becky used to visit you for dinner?” Charlotte didn’t believe it.

“Sometimes breakfast, a few times yes, but she never called ahead.”

“Why did she visit?”

“I never asked, I just fed.”

“Okay. I’ll drop by when I’m home.”

“I’m not going to take the twenty percent off the top,” Laszlo reassured. “Call me when you’re ready to work. We’ll figure something out.”

“Thanks,” Charlotte said and hung up the phone.

The kitchen became silent once more, save for the sound of freshly boiled tea steeping and steaming inside the carefully laid out tea cups on the tiled countertop. Unable to wait any longer, Charlotte went off in search of the reason she had came here. It was becoming slightly unnerving how long the occupier had been in the bathroom for.

The living room was ancient and pristine, the walls decorated with catholic pictures, a papal hall of fame, a carefully dusted collection of saints in their wooden frames watching over her with their beady painted eyes. The television was set to mute, but it caught Charlotte’s eye nonetheless, somebody had gone to the trouble of placing white lace doilies on top of the box, and for a moment, the thought of a rambunctious little troublemaker fiddling and making a mess of this neatly cluttered home earned a small smile.

“Ah,” Mrs Kelly cleared her throat and appeared at the top of the carpeted stairs. “Sorry my girl, I wasn’t expecting company.” The rouge and lipstick became more evident as she walked down the steps in to the light.

“You don’t get many visitors?” Charlotte tried to be pleasant and cordial, human and interested. She tucked her hands inside her back pockets and rocked slightly on her feet.

“I don’t.” Mrs Kelly stopped and put her hand on the bannister, peering Charlotte up and down. “How do you know my daughter again?”

“I don’t, not really.” Charlotte shrugged and kept it simple. “I’m a private investigator, somebody paid me to find you because they wanted you to know what happened to your daughter.” The last part wasn’t a total lie; on some level Charlotte did want Mrs Kelly to know the truth, and on some level she wanted to be here so she could learn more of it herself.

“Well if you did your research you would know my daughter is a difficult pill to swallow. The others, well, they have never forgave her, I don’t think I’ll ever find it in myself either.” Mrs Kelly sat herself down in the armchair. “We’re a very small community up here.”

“I know she was a talented police officer.” Charlotte was full of forced compliments as she pushed back her long blonde hair. “Talented police officers tend to cause waves… but you must have been proud, at times?”

“My dear.” Mrs Kelly leaned forward. “Proud is not the first word that comes to mind when I think of my daughter. Now, I was kind enough to let you in so do me a courtesy and let’s just get this over and done without too much fuss, how did she die?”

“Excuse me?” Charlotte snapped her eyes open at the frankness of the statement.

“That’s what you’re here to tell me, isn’t it? My daughter was constantly looking for trouble, and trouble was bound to come looking for her sooner rather than later.”

“It was a mugging gone wrong.” Charlotte quietly cleared her throat.

“Mugging people was she?” Mrs Kelly rolled her eyes, not doubting it for a second. “Just as well the chap stood his ground and put her down for good, someone was bound to sooner rather than later.”

“Oh, no, Mrs Kelly,” Charlotte clarified quietly, and although she was amused she appeared utterly somber. “A woman was being mugged and she jumped in to help, or at least she tried to, it was tragic, undeserved. When nobody came forward to identify her body the woman paid me to find you—”

“Do you think I came down in the last shower?” Mrs Kelly interrupted with a stern, unnerving look. There was a movement, a glint of metal that caught the light from the lamp, and before Charlotte knew it the mother had produced a small hand pistol from behind her cardigan. “You’re one of her kind… I can bloody smell it on you.” Her nose wrinkled with disgust. “Now I don’t know what trouble she got herself into this time but if you think you’ve came all the way here to finish off her family you have another bloody thing coming, and I can promise you, John Paul as my witness.” Mrs Kelly nodded to her favourite pope on the wall. “She wouldn’t have gave a feck for more than a day even if you did.”

Charlotte dropped her emotional mask and raised her hands, the expressions melted from her face until there was nothing but a faint unemotive scowl.

“There it is.” Mrs Kelly nodded knowingly and maintained her weapon. “Bloody afflicted, the lot of you.”

“I’m not here to kill you,” Charlotte sighed, unphased, rolling her eyes and unafraid. “Do you think I would have took the chance and let you go upstairs for your gun if I was trying to hurt you?”

“Aye, but you thought I was using the lavatory.” Mrs Kelly pointed her finger as if she had outsmarted the hitwoman who came to pay her a visit.

“And you think if I came all this way to kill you… what exactly? I would let you go and take one last shit for good time’s sake?” Charlotte screwed her face with disbelief.

“The mouth on you!” Mrs Kelly scalded disapprovingly.

“Welp your daughter is dead and I just wanted to make sure you knew. There, satisfied?” Charlotte glared and blinked out her frustrations, half tempted to kill the woman and half certain Becky wouldn’t mind in the slightest.

“So you did know Becky then?”

“Yes.” Charlotte folded her arms like a scolded child. “I would tell you she loved you but apparently you’re above that. I was trying to do a nice thing, if I knew you were going to be like this I would have just sent a text message.”

Mrs Kelly paused and chewed the inside of her mouth, and for a moment she was stuck in thought, stuck in her feelings regardless of how much she wished she didn’t have them, the gun inside her fist squeezed just a bit tighter because of it. There it was, Charlotte realised. The grief. The tiny bit of it that couldn’t be denied or turned away.

“Her body?” Mrs Kelly cleared her throat and looked at Charlotte expectantly.

“In a freezer somewhere.” Charlotte shrugged. “If you don’t want to go the same way she did I suggest you don’t go looking for it.”

“Aye,” Mrs Kelly whispered, and her eyes drifted briefly to a photo on the coffee table. There was a weighty, saddened sigh. “I suppose that’s where she will stay then.”

Charlotte turned to look at the photo, and she saw a little girl no older than seven in the picture frame, laughing, living, her bright eyes glimmering mischievously, ginger hair caught in the wind. It was a face she would know regardless of age or lack thereof. And again, Charlotte felt things, shallow emotions that were tentative and strange in their newness, a sadness that wasn’t quite fleshed out but made her knit her together regardless.

“She looks happy there,” Charlotte mumbled and couldn’t quite wrap her mind around the idea of the troublemaker before her prime killing years. “You should try and remember her like that, if it helps.”

“You should leave.” Mrs Kelly stood up and gestured the barrel of her pistol towards the back door. “Before I change my mind.”

“Can I ask you a question before I do?” It was a stupid one, a question that might not have a tangible answer, but it rattled around the back of Charlotte’s mind during the sleepless hours of night regardless. Charlotte knew damn well the thing that Becky died for in the end, but the question of what it was she lived for was one that remained unanswered, and the thought of it being as simple as killing for the sake of killing just didn’t seem to fit anymore.

“One, and then I want you to leave.”

Before Charlotte could open her mouth to ask, the back door opened and closed, and the sound of little feet wiping and scuffing their shoes had Mrs Kelly wide eyed and startled. The gun was tucked under her armpit suddenly, and the Queen watched as a little girl no older than seven skipped through the kitchen door.

“Gran? Ah! There ye are! I left me P.E kit and Mrs Flanagan threw a fit.” The little girl rolled her eyes and caught sight of the stranger in the living room with her grandmother, she grew quiet and pursed her lips for a second. “Hello.” She smiled.

Of all the things that could have been anticipated, that could have been logically or even absurdly considered, the existence of this little girl was not on the list. It wasn’t even on the first draft of things Charlotte had put together twelve months ago. It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t conceivable. But, there she was with those big brown mischievous eyes, too much like her mother to be anybody else’s child.

“Hello,” Charlotte whispered, absolutely awestruck, and she crouched until they were near enough eye-level. She looked at the little girl as if she were a miracle, or maybe a clue, perhaps even both, and there again was those pesky feelings; the Queen felt her heartstrings pull towards the tiny vestibule of the troublemaker as if she might be able to help make sense of her problems. “What’s your name, kiddo?” Charlotte asked dumbly.

The grandmother became flustered. “Aoife get your P.E kit and hurry back to school!” Mrs Kelly blurted and nodded to the stairs. “Now, please.”

“Aoife,” Charlotte whispered and sounded it out. “That’s a pretty name.”

“My mammy gave it to me,” Aoife grinned and tucked her hands behind her back, twirling side to side slightly, abundantly chirpy and equally as enthralled with Charlotte as Charlotte was with her. “Do you know me mam?” Her brow furrowed together curiously.

“I met her a few times, she’s a nice lady.” Charlotte exhaled and felt her throat hurt.

It wasn’t that Becky was dead, it wasn’t that she was stuck in her own grief over the fact, it was entirely worse than that, it was the weight of regret that she had taken this little girl’s mother and made an orphan of her in the process. When she pinned it down, when she understood the enormous realisation, Charlotte felt like she couldn’t breathe, apparently emotions were not a thing solely reserved for the troublemaker, apparently they were more complicated than that. Externally, she remained a force of calm. Externally, the wars being fought within herself were not given a single inch beyond the small twitch of her eye.

“Granny! Can we show her a picture of Mammy and me? I like the one from when she took me hunting on Wicklow—”

“When she bloody kidnapped you, you mean!” Mrs Kelly became exasperated, but the little girl just giggled and giggled, as if it were the funniest thing in the world, as if there wasn’t anybody she was more proud of, anybody she loved more on this earth, than her sometimes mother.

“Me mammy is a ninja.” The little girl looked at Charlotte quite seriously. “She says it’s no business for wains so I have to stay here with me gran.”

“Does she come to see you a lot?” Charlotte didn’t want an answer, but she felt as though she should ask.

“Yep.” Aoife nodded proudly.

“No.” Mrs Kelly interjected. “Becky comes and goes as and when it pleases her, she’s came to see the girl no more than the fingers on my right hand since she brought her into this world!”

“Because she’s a bloody ninja, Gran!” Aoife protested.

“Say the word bloody one more time and your feet will not touch the ground.” Mrs Kelly made a quiet girl out of her youngest. “Get your P.E kit and hurry yourself back to school or you can forget the pavlova I got for after tea tonight, young lady.”

The little girl darted off and Charlotte couldn’t put a single one of her thoughts on the end of her tongue. She was dumbfounded, she was stalled like a deer in headlights, and none of this made sense, the more she thought about it the more overwhelming it all became.

The gun was produced and pointed once again.

“Out!” Mrs Kelly hissed.

“Becky loved her?” Charlotte turned around, needing her suspicions confirmed.

“No,” Mrs Kelly scoffed as if it was the silliest thing she ever heard. “Becky loved having someone who adored and worshipped her, she would pick that little girl up and drop her down like a hot coal the minute she got her fix. The only person Becky has ever loved is her bloody self! Now go on, be on your way!”

Charlotte left with one question answered and at least two dozen more than she arrived with, and her walk down the footpath was a slow one, contemplative, sorrowful, furious, a mixture of emotions that she didn’t have words for, but by god did they hurt.

She stopped and closed her eyes when the pitter patter of hurried footsteps chased after her.

“Hold on wouldya big girl! My legs are only little!” The little irishwoman raced up beside her, out of breath and grinning ear to ear. “Will you walk me to school?” She adjusted the P.E kit on her shoulder.

“I don’t think your grandma would like that, Aoife.”

“I asked, she said it’s alright.” Charlotte instantly grinned at the lie.

“Well if we’re going to the same way what harm could it do?” They walked slowly down the road, and Charlotte dug her hands in her pockets, happy and simultaneously aware it was the wrong emotion considering she was the one who put the knife in the little one’s mother.

“Is me mammy coming home soon?” Aoife asked it out of nowhere.

“Nope.” Charlotte didn’t pull any punches as they continued their slow pace down the path.

“How do you know?” Aoife narrowed her brown eyes.

“Well if I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

“Rude of you!” The phrase made Charlotte snap her eyes to the little girl in surprise. “Anyway, are you a ninja like Mammy? You must be. You got a funny voice, like the people in Friends and How I Met Your Mother, which means you’re not from round here, so she probably told you where to find me.” The little girl produced a fairly intelligent, hopeful, and yet unfortunately wrong answer, skipping beside the contract killer walking her to school.

Charlotte deeply inhaled and squatted so they were closer to eye-level, she stared at the little girl, full of hope, full of abundant chirpiness, cheekiness, all the things Charlotte loved about her mother, and she didn’t know how to say it, but she felt like she should.

“Aoife,” she cleared her throat. “You’re a very smart little girl, I can already tell, and I want you to know that when you grow up, you’re going to realise your mother was a terrible, awful, dog-shit person, and it will feel like the person she hurt the most in this world was you. When that day comes, I want you to know that if there was one thing I knew about your mother—now, in hindsight—it was that she protected the secret of you with her entire life, and so if ever there was a tiny little bit of her that was ever good, she saved all of it for you.” Charlotte became deadly serious.

“You’re talking out ye arse, big girl,” Aoife scoffed and giggled at the woman twice her size, with still a few centimetres to spare. The little troublemaker refused to believe Becky was anything but brilliant. “Do you have any kids?” She asked and started walking again.

Charlotte stiffened slightly. “No,” she responded.

“You’d be a good mammy, big girl, just like my mammy.”

“Can you stop calling me that?”

“What should I call you then?”

“Charlotte. Just, call me Charlotte.” Charlotte pinched the top of her nose.

“Alright, big girl, Charlotte it is then.” The little one bounced along. “So where do you think me mammy is?”

Charlotte exhaled for what felt like the longest time, and she knew, wholeheartedly, that this was only the beginning of her problems. For whatever reason Aoife adored the absent excuse of a mother who barely came around to see her, couldn’t even begin to fathom the idea of putting her down, and perhaps they shared that much in common, but the issue was that one day Aoife would grow up and become all the more desperate for an answer, and if she was half as smart as Charlotte anticipated she would grow up to be, then Aoife would figure out well and good what exactly happened, or at the very least she would have an inkling of who was responsible, and Charlotte wasn’t so sure she wanted a woman in her prime coming after her with a vengeance to cut short her retirement years.

The sensible, logical, rational thing to do, would be to push Aoife in front of a passing car and make it look like an accident; and she did consider it for a moment, but, apparently Charlotte wasn’t feeling sensible or logical. Instead, she stopped and crouched down again, sighing to herself, her hand searching for the pen and paper in her pocket.

“Aoife,” Charlotte cleared her throat and started to jot something down. “I’m going to give you something very important, it’s something I never even gave your mother.” She pushed out the piece of paper and watched the little girl stick it in her pocket. “You have to keep it safe, promise me?”

“I promise,” Aoife chirped. “What is it?”

“My name, my real one I mean, and my private telephone number too.” Charlotte lifted her finger to illustrate how serious she was. “It’s for emergencies only, okay? But one day when you’re older, if you have questions or you feel like you have a score to settle, you come and find me.”

“But I have questions now?”

“Kid, you and me both.”

…

Another two months passed, and four months wasn’t enough time for the heat of two senators and a military general being executed in their hotel suites to die down, but the Lord’s work knows no bounds on the splendor of his earth, and so Lisa Marie Brooke got on the plane and found herself in Manilla once again in search of answers.

Nobody asked questions about the kind Christian missionary drifting from one room to the next with her bible and crucifix in hand. The rooms along the hallway of the unit were filled with those in the worst shape possible, worst wounds, weakest hearts, all of them trudging slowly through the last days. Lisa Brooke didn’t take a break, and the pious woman who comforted those near the end was whispered about throughout the nursing station all day.

When the code alarm rang, the nurses paged the doctors and darted into the hospital room to begin working on the patient. He was an elderly man who came in a week ago with complications from a stroke, not breathing, still, quiet, and perhaps with more than a slim chance of resuscitation thanks to the alarm being raised so quickly, what a stroke of luck that lovely Lisa was at his bedside when he coded, what a small miracle that she was able to raise the alarm so quickly.

After the patient was stabilised, the youngest nurse slipped out of the room in search of a lunch break.

“Hey!” She caught sight of the missionary behind the desk of the nursing station. “Miss Lisa, no visitors are allowed behind there!”

“Oh goodness!” Lisa chuckled and pushed her glasses up her nose, her eyes darting between the computer and the trainee nurse. “How silly of me, I was just checking the time... I wouldn’t want to be late for evening prayer circle.” She smiled softly and made her way back around the counter.

“Of course.” The young nurse felt rude for being so abrupt with the kind woman. “Thank you for your work today, you’ve brought such peace to the patients…” She shook her head, slightly embarrassed for being so quick to chastise the volunteer who had saved a life. “It’s so lucky you were there when Mr Mendoza became unwell.” She nodded back to the room where medical professionals were now dribbling back out, the patient breathing once again.

“Not luck.” Lisa leaned forward with cool wide eyes, and the young nurse felt a shiver run up her spine. “A god sent miracle.”

“Mhm.” The young nurse chuckled. “We’ll see you tomorrow, Miss Lisa.”

“See you tomorrow.” Lisa smiled back and made her way down the hallway.

The young nurse thought no more of it. She padded to the back of the office to the small refrigerator for her sandwich and apple. There was no such thing as a real lunch break in this place, always something that needed to be done, always paperwork that was waiting to be sent. She sat herself down at the front desk and glanced at the computer screen.

How strange.

The hospital portal where employee records could be accessed was open on the screen. The most recent search was for Thomas Cruz, a paramedic. He looked handsome in his picture, and his home address had been clicked on and brought forward next to his picture. The young nurse smiled to herself and shook her head, exiting the system and pulling up her administration work.

One of the other nurses must have a crush, she thought to herself.

…

Ideally, she would have used zip ties or rope to restrain the off-duty paramedic, but unfortunately, Lisa Marie Brooke always travelled light on weapons and restraints when carrying out the Lord’s mission. The I.V tubing swiped from supply cupboard back at the hospital was holding up nicely around his straining wrists and ankles, and given that the thin rubber tubing was unlikely to leave any bruising, she couldn’t help but wonder if she had just stumbled across quite the helpful life hack.

“Please.” Thomas whimpered and swallowed so hard that his adam’s apple rocked forward from his throat. “I have a family… I have a wife…”

Charlotte rolled her eyes and slapped the bound man across the face for being so cheeky.

“Your emergency contact is your mother who lives forty miles away.” She sat on the coffee table and admired her handiwork. “You could have said you had… I don’t know… maybe a dog or something?” Charlotte thought about a more concrete alibi. “I mean, I would have had to cut you loose and forget all about this if you had a dog.” She gawked as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“I do have a dog.” He perked up and nodded to the water bowl by the door.

“I’m totally kidding, I’m not going to cut you loose.” Charlotte patted his leg. “But I would like to meet him when I’m done here, maybe scratch his belly, we’ll see what the afternoon brings.”

“Look lady, I don’t have any money.” Thomas wept.

“Good, I don’t want money.” She shrugged and clasped her hands.

“I don’t know any bad people… I…” He shivered and began to sweat profusely as the air-filled syringe was produced from her purse. “I don’t know anyone who would want to do this to me…”

“I know,” Charlotte sighed and scratched the wig glue off the side of her temples. “Trust me, I’m really not looking to drag this out any longer than necessary, Manilla is very humid this time of year and it’s not good for my hair but a friend of mine who was very good at not dying, well, she went and died. I need to know what happened.” She sighed and pouted. “You responded to a female stab victim at the Empress Hotel four months ago. The night the two senators were killed, tell me everything you remember before you handed her over to the hospital and I might let you live.”

“I don’t know anything!” He gasped as the syringe was plunged into the center of his chest.

“It’s funny,” Charlotte chuckled and met his frightened eyes. “Your friend Domingo said the same thing, that she didn’t say anything, do anything, that he could barely remember what happened.” She sighed and got the suspicion that the police had made sure people knew to keep quiet if anybody came around asking questions. “Now would probably be a good time to mention that Domingo is dead by the way. Pulmonary embolism, and you’re about to go the same way if you don’t start talking…”

“Well what is it you want to know?!”

“Anything you might think is pretty fucking impertinent, Thomas.” Charlotte gritted her teeth and pressed the syringe deeper into his chest cavity.

“The police were talking when we loaded her up!” He gasped. “They, they were saying she had answers, that she couldn’t die, that arrangements were being made—”

“Did she say anything to you?” Charlotte became suddenly hopeful that the idiot might be alive. “Think, think very fucking hard!”

“Just one, before we sedated her in the ambulance, she was very insistent.” The paramedic closed his eyes. “It was a name, she kept shouting it.”

“What name?”

The paramedic opened his eyes and looked at the thumb hovering over the plunger on the air-filled syringe. He swallowed and peered back up at Charlotte, exhaling deeply, aware that whatever happened he was going to be in deep shit now.

“Mr. Rabbit.” The name made the Queen freeze.

Charlotte injected the air-filled syringe and got up calmly, reinvigorated with purpose as the warm body slumped forward off the sofa. If Becky was alive, somebody had gone to a lot of trouble to make it look as if she were dead, probably so whoever came looking for her would write it off as collateral damage. They just never anticipated the one thing Becky did before they sedated her, that the person who would come looking was the one woman who had nothing else to lose.

“I’m coming, Becky,” Charlotte whispered and grabbed her coat.

…

The hills and fields were full of mysteries and fairytales, for a little girl like her at least. It was how Aoife spent her afternoons after school, because of who her mother was and the terrible awful thing she did, it meant the other children weren’t allowed to play with her, and so she became content in solitude, content because she had to be, and the land was regularly wandered in search of adventures instead. At the end of the family property, where the land met the edge of the river, there was a small delipidated stone building, an old chicken coop that once belonged to her great-grandfather. Mammy once told her it was a fortress for ninja training, a place to think, but most importantly, to hide things.

The piece of paper that the big girl had given her was hidden with the rest of her mostest importantest things inside the coop, like the bank book, which Mammy said she wasn’t allowed to touch until she turned sixteen or unless she did something really bad and needed to pay a policeman to get off the hook. That was the rule and Aoife stuck to it, she wasn’t very good at following rules but when Mammy said to do something she always did her best, and so the bank book, the piece of paper from big girl, and the two holographic Pokemon cards she stole from mouthy Karen at school, they were kept in the lock box in the back of the hutch and checked up on regularly.

Aoife dragged her stick against the bark of the trees and skipped the rest of the way toward the broken wooden door that hung off the stone frame to complete her daily audit of her most special possessions.

“Goodness!” A gruff, tired voice gasped as a crack of light hit her bleary eyes. “The skin and bone on you girl, has that woman not been feeding you? And the state of your school shoes.” Mammy pinched the bridge of her nose, exasperated. “All black they’re supposed to be, not caked to the high heavens in shite! If  you ever go to a funeral they’ll be saying, ‘Aye there goes our Rebecca’s girl! The one in the shite scuffed shoes!’ I hope you know this comes back on me?” She peered down the end of her nose seriously.

“Hi Mammy, what’s the craic?” Aoife giggled.

She was tiny and frail, and it didn’t go amiss upon Aoife, the way her muscular arms now looked thin and spindly like twigs, the way her rosy cheeks were sunken in, her eyes dark and bruised too. She had no shoes either, her feet were bleeding and cracked as if she had walked a fair distance. Aoife didn’t care though, Mammy had come to see her, and that was the only thing that mattered.

“Come, come here,” Mammy ordered and beckoned with her hand. “You’ll sit down and have something to eat.” She turned and winced with soreness.

“Honestly, Mammy, I’m grand—”

“I’ve a Greggs sausage roll and a meringue cake in the Tesco bag, fetch it for me would you love?” Mammy nodded to the plastic bag. “Oh! And a drop of Lucozade in there too, only the best for the athlete.” She winked.

“Mammy where you been?” Aoife looked at her with a craned eyebrow and sat down with the half-eaten sausage roll. “You look like you fell off a bus.”

“Aye, well, I fell off a cargo ship in Dublin, but that was after the real craic.” Mammy lifted her finger and grinned. “Guess how many blokes I killed this time?”

“A hundred and ninety two,” Aoife didn’t skip a beat between mouthfuls of sausage roll.

“Nah, try again.”

“Four hundred thousand two million nine thousand fifty-five.”

“Nah, again.”

“Two.”

“None.” Mammy pushed forward with a serious look in her eyes. “They kept me locked up in a cage for four months, tortured me half to death, never offered me a cup of tea once the savages, and can you believe the eejits didn’t notice when I swiped the keys?” She jangled the set of cumbersome keys in her hand. “Here, quick, put these in your hidey-hole, I want you to have them as a keepsake. It was a close call this time.”

“Aye,” Aoife sighed and examined the keys. “Big girl said you weren’t coming back, Mammy.”

“Big girl?” Mammy snapped her eyes open.

“Aye, Mammy, she said you were a bad, bad, bad, super bad person, and that I shouldn’t be mad about it.” Aoife sat up a little straighter as she peered at her mother, and she giggled, she giggled and giggled, giggled as if it were the funniest thing in the world, giggled until Mammy was giggling too with her beaming white teeth on show. “I still love you, Mammy, even if you are bad.”

“Thanks.” Mammy grinned and ruffled her hair.

It was the god’s honest truth, the entirety of the wisdom she had managed to accrue in seven years of living, of course her mammy was a bad person, but she loved her anyway, loved her because she never tried to pretend otherwise, loved her even though she was only really a mammy in name, not action, and that was alright too, Gran was good at being a mammy for the most part. Mammy was good at other stuff, like hunting, and being fun, and making her laugh, and they were all important things too.

“So why did you come to see me, Mammy?” Aoife pushed forward and tucked herself under a sore bruised armpit until they were sat neatly side by side, little and large. “Did you miss me, Mammy?” She peered up at her.

“What do I always tell you?”

“That when God made you he forgot to give you the thing that makes people love other people, but that I make you laugh so you like coming to see me.” Aoife reeled it off perfectly. “Did God make sure to double-check when he made me, Mammy?” She became concerned.

“He did,” Mammy agreed and slumped her arm over the little one’s shoulder. “He gave you all of the love he forgot to give me, so you’ve got twice as much in your heart.”

“Is big girl bad like you, Mammy?”

“Eh, she tries to be.” Mammy shrugged and closed her eyes. “She came then, did she?”

“Aye Mammy.” Aoife nodded. “Is she your girlfriend?”

“Yep,” Mammy replied instantly. “We fight a lot, it’s nice.”

“We should probably bell her then, Mammy.”

“She changes her number a lot. I think I need to stay here for a week or so before I go looking for her, get a bit of weight on me.” Mammy patted her skinny tummy.

“She gave me her phone number for emergencies?”

“She gave you what now?”

…

It took a week but Charlotte narrowed down the precincts until she was stood outside the building where Becky was either still being tortured and interrogated, or where she had finally been murdered, and the distinction between the two possibilities didn’t feel like a big one. Either way, somebody had taken the person that she had decided, without realising, tangibly belonged to her, and because of that retribution would be made without discrimination.

The plan was a simple one, simple and yet quite possibly the stupidest thing she had or will ever do, stupid enough to make the troublemaker proud, no doubt. Charlotte had figured out that the question of how to break into the site was a moot one, especially when she could simply stroll right through the doors and exacerbate the process by admitting to her involvement of the murders. They would beat and torture her in search of who orchestrated the hit, sure enough, but they would also more than likely imprison in the same cell as Becky in the hopes of catching them talking about something incriminating on tape, well, if Becky was still alive, of course.

She wasn’t sure yet on how exactly they would break out of the site, but she was certain that they would either succeed or go down fighting, and maybe that would be a hell of a way to go. The old snitch wasn’t wrong all of those years ago, this career really didn’t come with any sort of longevity… but if falling down in a hail of bullets with her troublemaker and taking a few police officers with them for good measure was how she was supposed to leave this world, then that was alright too. It wasn’t dying in the cold lonely night taking world altering secrets to her grave, but it was an answer to the biggest question of all, what does a psychopath care about if not herself?

Charlotte straightened herself and walked up the steps towards the door of the precinct.

“Hello,” she cleared her throat and spoke to the officer behind the intake desk typing away on his computer. “I need you to go and get your commanding officer, right now—”

“Take a seat.” He pointed to the waiting area.

Charlotte halted and looked over to the empty seats, blinking and offended that this was going to plan the way she had anticipated, and on top of all of that, her phone was ringing in her back pocket which was an irritating distraction. “There is nobody else here?” She looked at him in disbelief. “Trust me, you’re really going to want to go and get your commanding officer—”

“Ma’am.” He stared intensely, displeased and authoritative. “Go and take a seat.”

“Well alright,” Charlotte huffed petulantly.

When she looked at her phone, much to her surprise, the call was directed to her personal phone number. There were only two people in the world who had that phone number, and from the area code attached to the beginning of the digits, she was certain that Becky’s daughter was interrupting the one half-decent thing she would ever do in her life with something unimportant and stupid.

She put the phone back in her pocket and tucked one of her knees over the other, sighing and staring straight ahead to the ticking clock on the wall. Two minutes passed, and the phone rang again. Charlotte rolled her eyes and let it ring out. A few more minutes passed, and the phone rang again.

“Are you going to answer that?” The police officer at the desk pointed at her, growing all the more irritated. “Please, it’s very annoying!” He stood up and walked to the back office.

Charlotte grumbled under her breath and picked up the phone.

“This better be damn important—”

“Mammy’s back,” Aoife chirped.

Charlotte grew wide-eyed. Her body stalled and stilled, her chest refusing to move, her knuckles growing white around the armrest of the waiting room chair, the waiting room of the police precinct a hemisphere away that the troublemaker had apparently broken free from without bothering to call and mention it.

“Here,” Aoife sighed. “Mammy wants to speak to you.”

“Al… alright.”

“Hello?” Becky sounded tired and raspy.

“I thought you were dead,” Charlotte exhaled quietly, and it was a grief she needed to get off her chest, an interim of emotion between then and now that needed to be made right. “You didn’t think to fucking mention—”

“Where are you?”

“Manilla!”

“Four months. They nursed me back to health and then they tortured me for four months, ripped me nails out of my fingers, put electric cables up my arse, slapped me about silly, and I still got out of Manilla quicker than you did?” Becky sounded pleased with herself. “You big lump.”

“I came back to rescue you!” Charlotte hissed under her breath. “I’m at the… well. I’m at the place I thought you were being kept.”

“Fair fucks, but do you know when I needed rescuing, Charlotte?” Becky held for a dramatic pause. “About four fucking months ago.”

“Well I got your Mr. Rabbit message a little late but that’s by the by now.” Charlotte pinched the bridge of her nose. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? How did you get home?”

“I’m busted up pretty good, also, the prisoner of political dissent diet does wonders for a girl’s figure by the way… it took me a few weeks to get home, stowed away on a cargo ship to the Suez canal, then doubled back on myself to Germany, after that I was cooking on gas, just jumped on a postal ship for Dublin and here I am. By the way, your real name is Patricia?” She could tell Becky was knitting her brow together. “I’m never having sex with you again.”

“I’m going to finish the job next time.” Charlotte bit her bottom lip so hard that blood was drawn to the surface.

“Patty, whatever you say—”

“I will never forgive you.”

“Patricia—”

“Stop it!” Charlotte barked in embarrassment. “Charlotte is my middle name, so stop it,” she whispered.

“If I were you I would get out of there. I didn’t tell them anything but if they figure out who you are, well, there will be no slipping out the back door for you and I would hate for you to know the pleasure of a jump cable on your perineum without me there to cheer you on, lovely Patricia—”

“Ma’am?” A deep voice spoke up and a large shadow loomed over her. “I understand you asked for me specifically?”

Charlotte hung up the call and felt a bead of sweat form on the top of her brow.

“Hello!” She chirped with a sweet, southern accent and closed her eyes. A second passed and she gathered herself, opening her eyes to face the giant of a man who would be the end of her if he caught a whiff of the truth. “My name is Lisa Marie Brooke, I’m with the Travelling Christian Sisters of our Lord Jesus Christ ministry… and I’m here to report two young boys who were vandalising the mission quarters with graffiti. Now, I know you’re a busy man, Mr Commander, but I was hoping you could get right on it—”

The commander raised his hand and looked to the intake officer who stood at his side. “You interrupted my meeting, for this?” He lifted a brow. “Help her fill in a report, don’t waste my time again,” he growled at the younger officer and sent him scuttling.

Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief and became instantaneously collected once again, crisis averted. She peered down at her cellphone and clicked the recently dialled number, thumbing a quick text…

Becky, stay where you are. I’ll be there in twenty-four hours.