#Gun Safe Moving Company Near Me

[georgesmith00x2]

Gun Safe Moving Company Near Me | Packing And Unpacking Services Near Me

Local movers, moving company in Brevard County, moving company in Florida, family owned, family operated, locally owned, apartment, condominiums, condo, real estate, new home, storage, moving, movers, small business, upstairs movers, Melbourne, Viera, Suntree, Palm Shores, Merritt Island, Palm Bay, Titusville, Satellite Beach, Indialantic, Cocoa, Cocoa Beach, Rockledge, Cape Canaveral, West Melbourne, Melbourne Beach, Indian Harbour Beach, Malabar, Port St. John, Brevard County, Florida"

[eeunoia]

ENHYPEN Series

sinag | psh.

chapter ten

pairings: park sunghoon x reader

synopsis: waiting for a great plot twist in your life, the ruthless and powerful mafia boss park sunghoon forced his way in to it.

word count: 2.6k

warnings: contains harrassment, violence, guns, killings, abuse, obsessive love & other stuff. if you can't take this stuff, feel free to scroll away. let me know if i missed some.

note: there’s a slight change from the original one shot. anyway, please send me asks and reblogs are highly recommended! thank you so much, ily.

eeunoia 2024 © all rights reserved.

“We found these inside her suite room, Boss.”

Sunghoon rests his liqour over the small table near him then pressed his lit cigarette at the ash tray. His toned muscle flex at his every move. He reaches over the small card Icarus was handing him.

With brows furrowing downward, he silently read the printed name of the company you seem to work at. He didn’t utter a word and just plays with it, falling deep into his own thoughts. The name of the place you’re currently employed in rings a bell. A bit familiar. Like he heard it before.

“We also managed to gather some of her personal belongings.” his eyes darts lazily at the things he laid over the table.

Some identifaction cards and also your passport. He licked his lower lip and stretches his arm to grab your passport. He opens it, revealing your information to him. Your name, birthday, nationality... everything.

“You may take your leave. Make sure there are men guarding her floor.” he instructed without sparing a glance to him. He saw him bowing from his peripheral before he take his leave.

The cold breeze blew towards Sunghoon, making his slightly long hair sways beautifully along with it. His eyes are fixed at your picture and his thumb gently caress it, a ghost of smile spreading across his face.

“Aelia...” he mumbled your name for the very first time. “My Aelia.” he added afterwards.

He tilts his head and clenches his jaw hard before fishing his phone from his pocket.

“Brother! I figured you’ll give me a ring sooner or later.” Jake’s voice hints teasing from it.

“You...” he starts, but halts his words.

Sunghoon couldn’t make out his emotions properly. He’s feeling so pissed for his friend keeping something very important to him, but at the same time still overwhelmingly happy after finding you.

“Well,” he can almost hear his smirk from the other line. “did you like my gift for you?”

He threw his head back then heaved a sigh.

“Since when?” he shortly replied, wanting to know more about this sneaky move his friend just pulled. He should’ve known something’s up from how his friend’s been so weird.

“Ever since I tried to sell the company to you.”

Another big and heavy sigh emits from Sunghoon after he realized how long was that. He almost lose his mind searching for you and all this time, his friend knew where you are. He felt betrayed, but a part of him are relieved to know that you are safe.

He flutters his eyes open, brows furrowing hardly at the realization.

“You sold it to me for 10 million? Do you fucking think she’s worth just that?” he seemed insulted like as if he was the one being priced and sold at a lower price. Not that he really sell you, its practically the company but Sunghoon’s being very dramatic.

Jake chuckles finding it hilarious how he didn’t even got mad at him for selling it at a very expensive price. He got offended for taking the interpretation that you only worth that price.

“Dude, I asked for that so I can take care of your girl while you’re busy taking care of some other things.” he finally explains. It made him more calmer, his jaw’s still hardly clenched but at least the idea of beating the shit out of his friend starts to subside.

“Meaning all these time, its you and your money whose taking good care of her. She’s living comfortably thanks to your resources.” he sounded like he’s trying to convince a kid and tricked him into believing that Santa is real.

Sunghoon fell silent, trying to sink Jake’s words inside his mind. He did a good job on revisioning the company and even made it perform well. He’s been updating him about the status of it even though he doesn’t really give much care of it as he was pretty focused on putting the Kwon’s down.

All this time, its not just the company. It was his way of letting him know that his girl is okay and living pretty well.

He draws in a big sigh, totally calmer than before.

“Thank you.”

Jake’s the one silent this time. He was expecting him to appreciate his effort, but not to this extent. He was expecting an earful of curses and death threats from him, but instead this is what he got.

He was amused. Beyond amused how you’ve already started to affect him. He lets out a scoff, couldn’t believe that you have this effect on him. It was just a hunch that you indeed have the potential to soften and tame the monster, but you are powerful. You have this power over him.

“The fuck? Not even a day of meeting her and you’re already under her spell? Who are you? Where’s the real Sunghoon? The real one would’ve cursed me out and will be super pissed at me.”

Sunghoon smirks and rests over the railings of the balcony. His eyes settles beneath the quiet road, it was almost empty as its already three in the morning.

“I am pissed at you.” his stern tone makes it obvious how he means.

“But since you kept her safe 'til this day, I’ll let you go.”

Jake smirks, “Even if your meet up is a little set up?”

“What’s important now is she’s here. She’s really here.” relieve was not the only thing you can hear from his tone. Some are curiosity on what’s about to happen next.

He can think nonstop about the things he wanted to do with you, but first he has to think of how he would explain everything to you. Because from now on, you will live your life with him.

You let out a heavy sigh before grabbing your phone and dialed your boyfriend’s number. Your jaw clenched when you've been directed over to his voice mail. It’s been three days ever since you two talked and you even argued. This is your last night here and so far its so good. Surprisingly nothing bad happened to you, and you don’t want to jinx it at all.

“Hey, Luke.” you said after the beep to leave him yet another voice mail. You didn't know how many you left already but still, you decided to do it again.

“I know you're upset baby. Please let’s talk once I get back there, hm? I love you.” you mumbled and ended it.

You grabbed your coat and key card of your hotel room. It was stressing you out so you wanted to get some fresh air to relieve some stress. It was already late which makes it a bit scary, especially that you're in another city. But you knew you needed some for tonight.

You breath in the fresh air you thought you’ve been needing for a while. You tried smiling as you watch the stars above you shines brightly. You were enjoying your time without even realizing what’s about to unfold.

After finally calming down and clearing your mind out, you decided to head back to your hotel.

On your way, you had this weird feeling that you're being followed. Your heart started thumping fast, specially that there are less people around this area. Terrified that someone really is stalking you, you hurried your steps.

But even before your can reach back to your hotel, you felt a strong grip over your arm. Your heart sank as you open your mouth to shout only to be covered by your captor. He held you firmly then covered your nose with a handkerchief making your eyes grew big and you tried to get away from their grip but it was too late.

The last thing you remember is how you slowly lose your strength, knees falling weakly. The person held you close to him and even whispered things you couldn’t understand as you lost consciousness. In the end, you felt them carrying you.

Sunghoon smiles as he stared down at your unconscious body over his arms. His men opened his car door for him and he puts you inside carefully.

“Have you prepared the hotel room I asked you?” he asks Icarus as he checks if your position inside his vehicle is okay.

“Yes, boss.”

He nods and Sunghoon walks around towards the driver’s seat. He glanced at your side before smiling again, reaching over your face to gently brush away the hairs covering it.

At the arrival to the hotel, Sunghoon parked his sports car right in front while his men's vehicle surrounds his for protection. The staffs of the hotel hurries themselves to stand right in front of it to welcome him. They've been informed about the vip that will stay at the top floor of the hotel, and after knowing its Park Sunghoon they couldn't help but to feel nervous.

After-all, he’s known for his bad temper.

“Welcome Mr. P-Park.” the head of the hotel stutters as he bows along with his staffs.

Sunghoon didn’t pay much attention to them as he asks for his room card. Some of the staff noticed him carrying your unconscious body, tears on the sides of your eyes. Just by the looks of it, they knew you didn’t come here voluntarily.

None of them asked anything about you, nobody even dared to look at your direction longer than fiver seconds.

The moment he managed to get the keys to your room, Sunghoon struts towards the elevator along with Icarus and some of his men.

“Should we tie her hands?” Icarus asks.

Sunghoon’s eyes darted at your wrist. His assistant is already getting ready to tie her when he stopped him.

“No. I don’t want it hurting her wrists.” he says too softly and then sat at the side of the bed to look at your sleeping state.

He wiped off the tears at the corner of your eyes and using his thumb, he caress your cheeks.

“My love, you are finally here with me.” he whispers.

He sighs, “You are so beautiful.” and he roams his eyes over your pretty face. He’s still in trance. Despite being able to hold you and touch you like this, sometimes he still can’t help but to think that he is dreaming.

Scared that this are just his illusions, he somewhat wished not to wake up from this. If it means he will be with you, he don’t want to leave. He wants to be where you are and where he can have you like this.

“Sir, Mr. Sim called saying he needs to discuss something with you.” he sighs and nods his head before standing up.

“Leave some of our men inside the room incase she tries to escape or do something that can hurt her.” he reminds his men before leaving the room.

With a low grunt, you slowly opened your eyes only to be greeted by an unfamiliar room. Your head aches in attempt to recover memories from last night. It was just then you remembered that you were abducted.

Fear spread across your chest as you roamed your eyes around, sitting up from the bed. There are men wearing familiar suits. You’ve seen it before, you just don’t have any idea where.

“W-Where am I? Who are you?!” you asked frantically and tears spreads across your face.

Even when you are crying, they seem to don't mind. They are just standing at the corners of the room, two by the door.

You don’t know how many hours that you’re passed out, but you knew its been a while. Your throat felt dry from crying and screaming. One of them did offered water, but you refused. You’re afraid that they put something in it.

The fact that this is happening on your last day of the trip makes you go crazy. Nothing good really happens whenever you go out of the country. Everything seems to be find until you got abducted by these people. This time, you think this will really be the end of your life.

Dark thoughts starts to occupy your mind. Will they kill you and sell your organs to the black market? Probably. Or put you into slavery. That’s just so awful. A lot of bad scenarious flashes through your mind and it was making you feel much terrible.

The door then burst open, making you jolt a bit. Soon, a man walks inside. His eyes looked at your way and he bows politely which caught you off-guard. The other guys around seems to look up on him so you assumed he have more power than them, so why is he bowing at you?

“The boss will see you in a bit.” Icarus said, informing you about Sunghoon’s plan to visit you.

The boss? Your brows furrows hardly at his statement, but kept your mouth shut. Tears still pool your eyes, cries a little more silent than before. If he isn’t the boss, you can still try to convince him to let you go. You can beg him. Tell him that your you have terrible health so your organs won’t sell good.

“Please let me go.” you begged him softly, eyes glistening with so much emotion.

Icarus stared at you with blank look over his eyes. He sighs and glanced away, trying to talk to some of the men reminding them of what to do next once the boss arrives.

Your heart fell. He didn’t even say anything or even talked to you.

Not long after, you heard the door opening and it revealed some ethereal looking guy. His hair was brushed up and it looked so soft, his face blank and seems like he’s the one in-charge. So much power he holds just by walking inside the room.

You can’t properly describe it. He just have this aura. He’s wearing a suit that perfectly fits him, showing off his model like proportions. It feels so illegal to see him walking here and not on runways.

Both of your eyes met and you are a bit taken aback because he’s very good-looking! His skin was fairly white and his features were beautiful altogether. He’s very intimidating too.

“Did you hurt her?” his voice ringed inside your head. He was asking the guys around but his eyes never left yours.

You gulped and even if you’re feeling very scared and intimidated, you raised your chin up and stared back at him. You glared and clenched your jaw to keep them from shaking.

“No, boss.” one of them answered. As expected, he is the one in-charge.

He nodded and slowly walked closer to you. If he’s good-looking from afar, he’s breath-taking up close. He looked so handsome and intimidating at the same time. Those moles all over his face sure add some charms in him.

“I’ve been searching the whole world for you, love.” He softly mumbled before he raised his hand to caress your cheeks carefully like as if you’re something so fragile.

Something about his caress lit something inside your stomach go crazy. It was definitely wrong because he was the one who abducted you and he’s probably a bad guy. Not to mention that you have a boyfriend but for some reasons, you cannot help it. There’s something about his gentle touch and his staring expressive eyes.

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[kitmoas]

purgatórium versenye

WandaNat x Reader

Warnings: **18+ ONLY** **MINORS DNI*** ***SMUT*** dark and demonic themes, cult vibes, gun and syringe, blood, gaslighting and stolkhome vibes, gives almost...Saw vibes in a way?, clicker training

As per usual if i forgot anything let me know

Author's Note: oh look I actually hit a deadline with this one! Okay second part of the double feature is here!! Again I am still getting back in the grove of writing so I'm sorry if this sucks, also I did not edit this at all sooooo yea

Kitmoas | Necrosis Kitmoas | Navigation

Exhaustion filled your body but thankfully you knew that the wait was almost over. For the past three and a half years your world was four walls, dozens of gadgets, millions of sounds, and two women. It wasn’t torture by any means, the work was nice and the company of two of the most beautiful people to ever grace the Earth was even more nice, but you were more than ready to pack up the project and move on with the next item for your resume. You knew the frustration you had with this job was at no fault of your mentors, a failed experiment is never in the cards for anyone but you couldn’t help but feel some anger towards them and their actions throughout the years. 

There is no doubt that they are gorgeous, charming, and extremely brilliant but you had to ponder their focus on some occasions. Yes, the job was granted funding for four years which allowed a bit of wiggle room when it came to how strict the workplace was on a day to day basis. It meant that the stress was off of the three of you to produce results quickly, but you never thought the efficiency would suffer. In your mind, if anything, it should have been even better since every single detail could be worked. It meant that you could have trial run after trial run, fixing any small little error that you could find but instead the deadline is rapidly approaching with not a single trail run completed. 

“Hey, how do you feel about dinner tonight? Maybe go over the last stage of progress so that we can really get into “trials”?” Blinking, you turn slowly to the raspy voice. She’s a few inches taller than you and a soft smile graces her face as she looks down at you. Her hand is already reaching out towards you, fingers twitching as the tips get closer and closer to strands of your hair. 

It’s easier to talk to her alone, she feels soft and safe. Her presence is calming and she rarely teases you in uncalled for moments, but when fun comes she’s the life of the party. Sarcastic and witty, she truly had it all and you know that she’s way out of your league but you just had to remember that she is your coworker; nothing more. 

You don’t even realize you’ve nodded, agreeing to the plans before your brain can catch up but she’s smiling widely. “Great! I’ll cook, just go ahead and bring yourself and that pretty little smile.” Her hand cups your cheek, thumb graze along your lip before she quickly pulls away. Fleeting touches keep your brain in a spiral, a light haze causes it to be hard to think but your entire body buzzes at the compliment. 

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

It was the moment your Uber pulled up to the large house, gates opening slowly that you realized you had never asked about your crush’s background. There was no way that the research that you were doing paid for this property. You could barely pay your rent and still have enough money to eat anything besides instant ramen. No one ever got into this world for the money, it was all for the experience. 

The attire you adorned was casual, no dress code given and no formal wear in your closet, you felt completely out of place as you climbed the front steps. The urge to flag down your Uber and run was strong, but you knew that if you finished this dinner you would be done and the end of the job would be near. 

The door swung open quickly, a young man answering it almost the moment the first chime of the doorbell sounded. Your finger was still against the cool metal and the you knew that your face gave away just how surprised you were but you tried to shake it away when you were able to take in what he was wearing. Casual clothes, almost gym attire with what looked like nicer joggers and a colorful tight long sleeve shirt. “You my sister’s guest?” 

His tone was crude, a brash contrast to how the sweet girl you knew spoke and you dumbly nod. It wasn’t that you weren’t used to people speaking to you rudely, you lived in the slums of New York City, but you weren’t prepared for someone who should know your status in the company to treat you as harshly as this. 

“I would have thought the girls could have found a better option, but I suppose this will work.” He’s mumbling mostly, eyes trailing your body up and down before he starts to walk away. The door left open as you watch him retreat into the depths of the house. 

It took you a moment, body frozen as you tried to figure out what to do. The toe of your shoe had barely touched the dark marble floor when a soft hand wraps around the edge of the door, smirking face popping out in front of you. Despite the racing of your heart, and the temporary fear in your throat, you begin to relax as the sight of your coworker. “Well hello édes szerelem, you’re late.” 

The accent settles you even more and you can’t help but chuckle, finally taking your spot inside the doorway fully. “It wasn’t my fault.” You snicker slightly under your breath, a mischievous smirk pulling at your lips as you watch the woman’s eyes roll. While you may not appreciate being so behind, you can dabble in the fun that she brings to the lab. 

“You have literally been standing here like a frozen little gremlin for at least five minutes, I do believe it is your fault.” She grips your forearm, dragging you father into the foyer. She barely waits for you to take your shoes off, a look of confusion on her face as she watches you but thankfully a taunt doesn’t fall from her lips. 

Your jaw drops slightly as she guides you farther into the house, twisting hallways and grand archways blur as she practically jogs. “Well I wasn’t expecting to be greeted by—“

“Pietro.” The sentence gets cut off by the woman you were most excited for as the two of you turn into a wide doorway. You were unsure exactly how she heard you that entire time, but you were glad she did because you felt like she could easily answer any questions that you may have. “I must apologize about him, he’s not too fond of guests; even Natasha here.” 

The redhead chuckles, her grip on you finally relaxing as she separates from you and heads to the bar in the corner. “What can I say, not everyone likes me.” Finally feeling the ability to relax, you allow your eyes to roam and your body to settle on a comfy looking chair. You weren’t expecting such a cozy room, it almost looks like something a middle class family would have. Adorned with cheesy family pictures, a few worn in couches, a huge television and the recliner that you happen to be sitting in you could almost close your eyes and believe that you were at your uncle’s house to watch the lastest football game. 

“Sure and it has nothing to do with the fact that you are a bika egy kínai szekrényben. “Your neck almost snaps as the foreign language catches your ears. Wanda had never once spoken the what you believed to be the native tongue of the mysterious woman drinking a martini in the corner, but here she was. It sounded fluent, a casual switch between English almost like she was with her grandmother who had immigrated to the United States.” 

Scoffing, you can see the ginger purse her lips before she downs the rest of her drink. “Oh yes, let’s just hate Natasha, the new girl. It’s not like I haven’t been trying to fit in because you know I have! I’ve been working hard towards my goals and everything that the family wants time to finish to become one of you.” Her voice comes out in a hiss, anger fueling her speech and you realize that the two had to have forgotten that you were here. 

Clearing your throat, you try to catch one of their attention. You didn’t want to intrude too much, but you also didn’t know where to go to excuse yourself. Jumping slightly you weren’t expecting Wanda to practically jump at you, her body rushing towards you but stopping just a few steps away. She smiles, but it’s a little bit to fake for her normal comforting grin. The look on your face must have indicated her mistake because Natasha immediately crosses the room, slapping the younger girl on the back softly. 

“Now Wanda, don’t scare our guest.” The ginger smirks at you, reaching up to cup your face. Her eyes roll when you flinch, her fingers smooshing against your jaw to keep you still. “We aren’t going to hurt you darling.” She straightens her back, her head tilting to stare you down. “You don’t think we would hurt you do you?” 

The other woman is hunched over, almost struggling to stand up, when you finally take notice of her, Your eyes straining to find hers as you search for some kind of signal what is happening. She adverts your gaze though and instead falls to her knees, settling comfortably and reaching out to lay a hand along your calf. The soft touch slows your heart rate and allows you to focus enough on the questions you were being asked. Slowly you shake your head, unsure of where the intensity has come from. 

Biting her tongue as it slips between her teeth, her smile morphing her mouth some. “Good, now, it’s a custom to play a game. Won’t you play with us?” Her voice is sultry, grip on your cheek forces you to nod your head. She cuts you off before you can verbally answer, raising her eyebrows as she waits for you to actually fight her but she is met with nothing but silence. “Exactly, good. Wanda, would you tell them we are ready to begin?” 

Time practically stands still as you watch your object of affection scurry out the door, and you have to gulp down your nervousness once more while you are alone with the older woman. You have many questions but the uncertain stretches across your skin. Anticipation was rising in your body, as well the blush that tinted your skin. 

It was only a few minutes when Wanda returned, the small device that the three of you had been working on in hand, along with two women carrying covered platters. She makes eye contact with Natasha before beelining it directly towards you, her hand cupping your cheek immediately. “Trust me, everything will fall into the place that it’s meant to be.” Her voice is soft, eyes searching yours as she lets her thumb boop your nose gently. She smiles when she sees you mindlessly nod. 

Your heart races the closer she gets and it practically stops when you realize what is about to happen, though your brain doesn’t get much time to catch up when her lips finally touch yours. The kiss is slow, tender, and it makes your confidence in her statement strong as you realize that she’s going to be the foundation that she falls on during this game. A small electronic click sounds in the room, echoing in the background, and though it sounds familiar you don’t pay it any attention. 

A hand in your hair interrupts the moment you two are sharing, and while your body is tugged away from the older woman your mind stays stuck on it as Natasha’s grip tightens. She’s speaking but you can’t help the hazed look in your eyes as your focus stays on Wanda, unknowingly agreeing to whatever the ginger is saying. “Glad, I’m glad you agree.” Her voice, final and firm, shakes you and you try to turn to look at her but a cool piece of metal lands on your temple. “Nuh uh pretty girl, you agreed to the terms of my game. Now you play.” 

A chill freezes your blood, your muscles locking up as your predicament settles in. Nodding, a small frantic motion, your eyes searching for Wanda’s to try and signal for help but she stands in the center of the floor. She’s calm but her eyes are sharp, watching you almost like a predator watches prey. You weren’t sure why she had your project, but you no longer cared about that. You just wanted to leave this house alive. “Don’t you want to play with us, sweetheart?” It’s her voice that makes you melt, even with the sharp digging of the muzzle into your skull. At your smile, and slight relaxation, another small electronic click.  

Missing the evil smirk that spreads across the ginger’s face, unnaturally sharp teeth showing, you allow your body to press against hers. Believing that Wanda would get you out safely, you decide that you’re just going to allow this game to play out as it was meant to. “Eszter, step forward. Our players are ready for round one.” One of the girls approaches you, standing slightly off center from in between you and Wanda. “I, Natalia Romanoff, the GameMaster officially call a beginning to this trial. Lift the dome, Eszter.” 

The gun is still lazily pressed against your head to keep you inline, and you flinch as a ringing sound radiates into the room when the metal lid scraps. There sits two levers, one red and one blue. “It’s simple, you each pick a lever and you better be fast after you choose. We wouldn’t want the game to end so early now would we?” She steps back, snickering as your body sways unstably. 

A soft hand wraps around your wrist, Wanda reaching out to keep you upright and tugging you forward. She pulls you into another kiss, electronic click sounding. This one was rough, quick, as she forces her tongue into your mouth. It ends abruptly, she rips away from it and smirks at your breathless form. “Come darling, we have to play the game. You pick your lever first.” She sets your hand on the platter, releasing your wrist as she stands back. 

You weren’t really sure what it meant but you knew that you wanted the blue one from the beginning, something drew you to it and you instantly lifted your hand there. Wanda barely reacts, eyebrow twitching slightly as she settles her hand on the red one. A soft countdown comes from behind you, punctuated by a tapping of metal against something. At the count of one you both pull your chosen colors, but only Wanda moves. She’s swift, and if you would have blinked you would have missed the dagger that flies out of the wall and just barely misses her. Thumping into the wall behind where she once stood, you can’t help the gasp that tumbles from your lips. 

Natasha hums behind you, stepping up to press the gun to your lower torso and her hand roughly grabs your hip. Dragging you back so your ass is rubbing against her, and your back is digging into the gun. “You didn’t even move, as if you have a death wish idiot.” Her voice is mocking, teeth biting at your ear lobe. “If you want to live you’re going to have to play the game better than that.” Tutting she shoves you forward, before pulling you back to spin you around. She uses the barrel of the gun along your jaw to move your head around the way she wants, leaning in slightly to hover her lips over yours. 

Chuckling, she watches as your eyes slip shut, and you take a shaky breath in. Lips parted pathetically as you wait for hers to touch. “Do you want me to kiss you, slut?” Her eyes shine, a glimmer that is found when you begin to nod. It’s a quick motion before you immediately try to take it away. Shaking your head to deny it, you didn’t like Natasha–only Wanda. “Nuh uh little one, you can’t take back your first answer.” Allowing her gun to run down your body she smirks at the shivers she causes, before she shoves the metal between your thighs. Tapping it randomly against your covered clit, it shocks you how quickly she finds it but your body reacts subconsciously. 

Hips jumping at the contact, you try to lean into her. Electric click sounding loudly in your ears, echoing in the quiet of the room. You’re confused as you start to crave her touch, being denied it this entire time. You aren’t even sure how long she stands there, playing with your body, but you know that she never lays a finger on you but by the time she pulls away you are soaked. It causes you to fill with shame because you weren’t sure what kind of game you were playing, and you just wanted to live but you no longer wanted to escape. You should but you didn’t. 

“Time for the next round, Dorottya. Bring forth the rest of the equipment, she’s ready.” Wanda jumps forward at Natasha’s words, wiggling up next to you as the last girl steps towards you; pulling the dome off as she comes closer. “This is even easier, no movement needed for the dumb little thing. Pick a needle, and one of our girls here will administer it to you.” She smiles at the two of you, it’s almost too soft and it makes you whine. It’s sinister the way she cackles at the sound, drawing you into her to just shove you back. 

A click. Wanda giggles and kisses your shoulder. Another click. Her mouth stays there though, a low whisper coming out to calm down. “We find out the winner of this round at the end of the game, my love.” You melt and another click, the hint she gives you goes over your head at the possessive pet name. 

Blindly you reach out, rolling the two syringes along the metal. Neither seem flawed nor do they seem to have any true differences, so you just grab one at random. You weren’t sure which girl grabs the shots because the brunette is dragging you into another kiss, her hand mapping out your body. Hands trailing up your shirt, forcing herself under your bra to thumb at your nipples. A click. You whimper softly, for some reason you’re extremely sensitive and you can feel yourself clench slightly around nothing at her touch. It had to be because of how long you pined over her, the gorgeous girl finally giving you the attention that you dreamt about for years. A click. 

Natasha lets her body mold against your back, gun tapping methodically against the outside of your thigh as she grinds in your ass. “Look at you, finally willingly playing the game.” You can feel a bulge against you, and you can’t help yourself as you allow your hips to roll back into it. A click. Something was happening to your body and you just needed more, you wanted to be filled and you wanted Natasha to be the one to do so. 

You move your body as much as you can, trying to find a way for your clit to rub against something. A click. You wanted some kind of relief from the rapidly approaching heat. It wasn’t something that you were expecting, but you were okay with this wild game if it meant that you would be taken care of by these ladies. Maybe it was all fake and they just wanted to be weird, you never know what kind of freaky shit rich people got into. 

Clearing her throat, the ginger shoves you off of her. It causes you to tumble into Wanda, helplessly you flop onto her. You were surprised she could hold your weight but you were content to rub your face against your breasts, though you weren’t allowed to stay long. When the older woman behind you dragged you back down. She effortlessly moved you as if your body was made of a fluff, shoving you around until you were laid out on the ground. A click. 

A growl comes out of her mouth as she lets her body fall on your aggressively, hips humping into you where she had forced your legs apart. It was rough and quick, a moment of chaos in the tight fisted control that the ginger usually had. A click. It was almost like she was losing herself in the pleasure, her hands all over you as she tugged your clothes down and ripped them. “Play the next round.” Her voice was deeper, rough and rumbly, as she moved on top of you. 

You were confused but just as you opened your mouth to ask how, Natasha had pulled away only to be replaced with Wanda. Her mouth was on the exposed skin that was left behind from the ginger ravishing you, and her fingers were already swiping through the wetness that she found in between your thighs. A click. She slips two fingers into you, the tips at first just to test out how tight you were but she thrusts both in fully when a metal collar is slapped around your neck. It all happens at once and your vision blurs as you're filled by the brunette, your pussy stretching around her fingers. A click. 

She uses her hips to shove her fingers deeper into you, while you were unsure of when your arousal got so high, you knew that you wouldn’t last long. A click. It had been so long since you were even touched slightly, and you had been dreaming of Wanda touching you for years. It was everything you dreamed of and you could feel the cool of her rings slightly. They were rubbing against your leaking hole, and your hips jut upwards when her metal wrapped thumb rubs tight little circles on your swollen clit. A click. 

“I pick a card, you win if you get a face card. If you both get one, we continue to play until the first number card is chosen. Who is going to go first?” You can barely see where Natasha is sitting above you. Her voice is nonchalant as she shuffles the cards in her hand. 

At the same time Wanda shoves a third finger into you, chuckling against your stomach where she’s leaving hickeys as her name falls from your lips. A click. You weren’t sure what was happening but you hear Natasha reading out the card she choses. It’s slow, and you let your head flop to the side. Forcing your eyes open you watch as the ginger slowly strokes her strap, it’s large and you crave it. A click. 

The brunette on top of you moans, her hips have found home on your thigh and you can feel her wetness as she grinds down onto you. A click. It’s the feeling that almost pushes you over the edge unexpectedly. You didn’t think you were close, but apparently Wanda knew otherwise. “Natty she’s so fucking tight, her little cunt will be perfect even after she loses.” Her voice is shaky as she chases her own high, fingers inside you almost painful as her control fumbles. A click. 

It’s in that moment that Natasha gasps, a taunting sound as she turns the next card over. It shows a golden five surrounded by butterflies, a soft sweet image for the torture you unknowingly subjected yourself to. “Well well look at this, it looks like the little whore lost.” A filthy moan falls from your lips when you hear the ginger’s words, and humiliation fuels your orgasm even more when you realize that losing has caused you to dangle even more dangerously over the edge. A click. 

The collar around your neck suddenly drops, cold metal instantly tightening around you. Your eyes are wide open, though you are struggling to keep them that way, it allows you to watch as the oldest woman stumbles over to jerk off over you. It’s quick as she grunts, ropes of cum landing on your lower belly from the strap. It almost feels medical as she immediately pulls the harness off, the leaking tube leaves a trail of her cum along the floor as she sets it to the side. 

Though sterile and professional, you can’t help the way the coil in your tummy begins to shatter when Wanda shoves a glob of the cum into your cunt. A click. Another click. Another click. Intense pain starts to radiate through your body, and a searing sting burns your neck. Through your foggy hazed brain, you can hear Wanda excitedly telling the other women that it’s working. 

You can feel metal start to pierce your neck, the pressure breaking as does your skin and the pain throughout the rest of your body overtaking everything. A click. Another one. Your body starts to flail causing Wanda to struggle to keep herself inside you, but she continues to force three fingers into you as you react to the way she touches you. 

“I see the brainless slut lost the second round too?” Natasha laughs, a full body harsh sound, before she comes over to you. Dangling over your face, she smiles at the blood starting to leak around your head. A click.  “I guess we’ll see if the poison or the spikes kill you first, but don’t worry. Your body will be put to good use. It’s already conditioned to the sound, if we did this correctly it should react even when your heart stops.” It’s almost too soft as she speaks to you, but she gives you a soft kiss on your forehead. 

It doesn’t take long for you to stop feeling things, and the disappointment of a ruined orgasm runs through your closing veins. You can’t move or speak, and your vision is extremely blurry but you do see Wanda stand. The brunette leans down, a fake pout on her face as she looks down on you. “I’m sorry but I guess you won’t get to have a little fun before the end, Drágám. I tried but our formula must work too well.” A click. 

The two stand shakily, a sigh falling from their lips as they watch the puddle of blood get larger underneath you. “That’s going to be a pain to clean, they won’t be happy about that.” Pietro’s voice cuts through the room like a knife, suddenly showing up. “Did you have to be naked for this one? I don’t need to see my sister like this.” He pretends to puke, and for a moment things could be seen as normal. The three of them laughing and acting as if they were family, off to go find their elders to show them what they made. The sacrifice they have for them, almost like a present that Natasha has brought them to be accepted into the family. 

Your eyes are wide when the beating stops, when the world goes quiet and the pain ends. Even so, as a click echoes through the room your body convulses and your empty cunt pulses.  

Translations are loose: English to Hungarian

Drágám -- darling

bika egy kínai szekrényben-- bull in a china closet

[decks-writing-blog]

Gordon Swap Chapter Three: Mirrored

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

~

Time was of the essence. There was little of it to spare when every minute that passed was another that the current disaster was allowed to continue, undoubtedly resulting in more death. At the same time though, preparedness was the thing that had reduced Gordon’s death count the most. So he moved fast, checking every room and breaking any boxes that looked like they might have something useful in them.

Blessedly only a few rooms after having settled back into this pattern of movement they walked into the aftermath of a battle. Who won didn’t matter because it meant the room was littered with dead aliens and more importantly, dead military. Guns of various sorts, ammo, grenades, and ooh, more trip mines and C4, Gordon gathered it all. He was armed and armored again at last.

Halfway through he was brought to a pause by a melodic tone, not immediately recognizable as any instrument he knew of. Straightening from the corpse he’d just finished looting, he looked for its source. … His guard companion was looking down at the bodies that been been brutalized particularly badly. A string of colourful light came from his mouth as did the sound. Seemingly anyway, it wasn’t the kind of sound a human should be able to make but the colorful lights orbs also shouldn’t be of human origin.

As the note ended, the light ceased flowing – confirming both were from him – and he looked up at Gordon. Did he expect a response? Gordon would’ve loved to ask him what that was and how he’d done it but had no easy way to communicate with him. It was cool though, whatever it was, so Gordon lifted a hand to give him a quick thumbs up before turning his attention to back to looting.

A beat of silence before the guard spoke. “You lost you’re voice, huh? From screaming too loud. Real dumb thing to do. Shouldn’t have screamed so loud, dummy.” Poor guy was still delusional. Though maybe that was for the best if it kept him from going catatonic instead. “Bet you regret that. Not being able to talk must suck real hard.”

It didn’t suck at all actually. Inconvenient at times, sure, but mostly it was a fine way of being. But if there was any way to help the poor guy, Gordon didn’t know how. So he didn’t even bother to look up as he continued his resource gathering.

Once he had everything he could carry of all that was available, he exited, trusting his companion to follow as he’d been doing. This time he fell in step with Gordon. “How long this no voice thing going to last?”

Even if Gordon’s hands weren’t clinging to his newly acquired shotgun, he wouldn’t have bothered with an answer. He didn’t have time to try to figure out how to convey to this guy that he was having a stress-induced delusion of some sort.

“I mean, your hand grew back real fast so why isn’t your voice healing fast too? Doesn’t make sense.”

Gordon kept walking. They had to be near the end of this lab soon. Perhaps he should leave this guy here. It seemed fairly safe.

“You not being able to talk is boring.”

The company was nice though. Gordon had been alone for most of this journey so far with only the occasional companion guided to a hopefully safe spot. So he’d let this guy follow him for a little while longer. He could reset if he had to so he didn’t have to stress too much about preventing anything.

“You’re not even making faces at me anymore. It’s like talking to a wall. … We should go back and find the others. All the way back to the beginning, sounds fun, huh?”

Ah, he had other friends. Or had, they might be dead too. For his sake, hopefully not, Gordon wasn’t going to hold his breath though. He could reset to try to save them but had no idea where or when they might’ve died.

The guard stayed silent for a while, clearly waiting for some kind of response. When he didn’t get one, he dropped back to resume trailing along at his own inconsistent speed once more.

If only Gordon could reset to before the Resonance Cascade. That would save everyone, the only way to do so. He’d already tried though, twice. Presumably it was the cause of his power and thus he couldn’t go back to before it. So with nothing else to do, he just kept going forward.

Up ahead around the next bend the familiar crackle of portals opening was followed by shouts and gunfire. More of the military. Gordon slowed as he reached that corner. Popping the helmet up, he pressed himself to the wall and peeked around.

Ah, the tram platform. The opposite side was where many of the aliens had teleported in. On this side, were the military. They were firing at each other, bullets and lightening streaks ripping across the divide. Good. They’d kill each other and then Gordon would…

The guard had slowed with him but now started around the bend as if unconcerned about the possibility of death. Or maybe his delusion extended into not recognizing this situation as dangerous. Which it was didn’t matter, Gordon grabbed his elbow and pulled him back.

He let out a small sound of surprise. “Hey man, what the…”

Pressing him against the wall, Gordon pressed his other hand over his mouth, cutting him off. Instead of struggling as would’ve been expected, he stuck his tongue out, slipping it between Gordon’s fingers. It looked almost purple in the dim light of hall and was certainly quite long to snake all the way across his palm and between his fingers like that. If it was meant to gross Gordon out into removing his hand, it failed; he couldn’t feel it through the HEV suit’s glove.

He held him there for the few seconds it took for the sounds of violence around the bend to cease. Letting go, Gordon lifted a finger to his lips – the one not covered in the guard’s spit – in a request for silence.

“Why we being sneaky all of the sudden?” He at least had the decency to whisper.

Ignoring him, Gordon peeked back around the corner. … The military side had won, leaving a handful of their number still alive. Pulling back, he crouched down to sit up a trip wire, placed so it shouldn’t be visible until rounding the corner at which point it should be too late to stop running to avoid it. Careful of it, he drew his revolver and leaned back around the corner.

One of the military goons was turned his way and seemed to be heading to guard this direction. He opened his mouth but before he could get a word out, Gordon shot him in the head. Yes! Bullseye! His aim was getting better.

Not waiting for the body to finish dropping to the floor, Gordon jerked back. Hooking his companion by the elbow – he no longer entirely trusted the guy to be keep himself safe – Gordon quickly backpedaled away from the trip mine, angling himself so that he was in front of the guard. They were just barely clear of its blast radius when the military squad rounded the corner and ran right into it, setting it off with a deafening explosion. One goon round the corner a bit late, skidding to a hall at the sight and sound of his companions’ death. Still ready with the revolver, Gordon shot him in the head. He crumpled to the floor, dead.

Other than the ringing in Gordon’s ears silence settled on the gory scene. He stood waiting to see if anyone else would arrive around the corner. … Seemingly his trap had got all of them though.

“Wow,” his companion said, seemingly unbothered by how close he’d just been to an explosion. “You got good at killing stuff.”

It was either get good at killing the military goons or continue to die to them over and over again until he lost whatever was left of his sanity. Even if he’d had a way to convey that thought, he probably wouldn’t have as who could possibly believe that time reset when he died? It sounded like utter nonsense. So he only shrugged his shoulders before unhooking his arm from his companion – perhaps he should try to get his name – before walking forward to look for anything useful among the goons’ remains.

More ammo which was nice. Around the bend, they had had some med-kits that allowed him to top off the suit’s reserve medical gel. He handed one to his companion as well as he’d might’ve been inflicted with hearing damage from the explosion. And maybe it might help with his shock or whatever it was making him act strange.

Not accepting it, he stared at Gordon. “You steal that?” Clearly whatever was wrong with him was affecting his priorities.

Gordon didn’t have time to deal with it, not that he even knew how to. So instead he pressed the med-kit against the guard’s vest and let go, expecting him to catch it. He didn’t, instead letting it fall to the floor in front of him. Whatever. If he didn’t think he needed it, Gordon wasn’t going to make him.

He turned away and started for the tram’s computer system. Even if taking it wasn’t an option, he should be able to figure out where he was and more important where to go to get to the Lambda Lab.

“Off to steal more stuff, huh? Can’t um, can’t let you do that.” The guard followed. He tried to step in front of Gordon before he could reach the tram’s office. A quick left-right juke got Gordon past though.

Inside, the computer was already on, depicting the map of the tram system, spanning almost the whole facility. It was wrong. … Or no, not wrong but mirrored. Not the writing but everything else was. What an odd glitch. Perhaps it was a prank that someone had been trying to pull before hell broke loose. Whatever. It still told Gordon where he was and thus where he had to go in order to reach the Lambda Lab.

As he turned to exit, the guard was blocking his way again. “You’re not supposed to be in here without your passport.” Wow, poor guy must be really going through it to have lost his place in reality so thoroughly.

Gordon patted him tenderly on the shoulder before pushing past him with as little force as he could.

“Hey man, you can’t do that. At least say something, huh? Your voice has got be better by now, right? What the hell man?”

Gordon would have to find somewhere safe to leave this befuddled fellow sometime soon probably. As nice as more permanent company would be it just wasn’t safe with him. The military wanted him specifically after all, and maybe it was just his imagination but the aliens had been appearing right next to him more and more until recently. Whether or not that pattern would resume, if it was even real, remained to be seen. But regardless he wasn’t running away from the danger but instead towards trying to fix it. Having to watch out for his pal who barely even knew what was happening as well as keeping himself alive was a tall order even with his reset ability. For now though, as long as the guy wanted to keep following, Gordon would let him.

***

Barney moved fast. Which made sense, perfectly logical in fact. The faster they moved the sooner they could get out or at least not be so out in the open. But being knocked unconscious didn’t count as sleep, it kind of felt like the opposite actually. Gordon was weary in mind and body, going fast was the last thing he wanted to do.

He wasn’t going to complain… yet. Eventually he would but if he made too much of nuisance of himself Barney might abandon him too. He’d be justified in doing so, wouldn’t he? Gordon would be little to no help in keeping either of them alive. In fact he’d be an active burden. And he’d already been betrayed and abandoned once so what if…

“Yo, clone-Gordon,” Barney said as he stepped into one of the lab. “Looks like some military guys died in here.”

Gordon of course followed him into the room if for no other reason than to stop walking for a little bit. “And that’s relevant to me, why?”

“Guns. Specifically handguns because you only have the one hand.” Barney took one such gun off the nearest corpse. A small pistol but when it came to firearms, size didn’t really matter that much.

“It’s my left though and I’m not left-handed so not exactly helpful. I wouldn’t be able to hit anything.” He’d once had the thought of training himself to be ambidextrous but had only practiced writing with his left hand a grand total of twice before giving up. If only he’d kept with it.

Holding the pistol by the barrel, Barney offered it to him anyway. “Better than just a crowbar though. And if you’re up against a human, all you might need to do is point it and pretend like you can use it and they might back off.”

With a sigh, Gordon took it. It felt weird and wrong in his hand. Though really it was odd that a gun had ever felt natural hold.

“Practice with it a bit, there’s plenty of ammo in this room.”

Gordon couldn’t exactly pretend that arming himself was a bad idea even if it was much harder now. Especially since he’d just been thinking about how much dead weight he was to Barney. So as Barney moved aside, he awkwardly popped up the HEV suit’s helmet to act as ear protection before aiming at the alien corpse in the corner.

He took his time on the shot, lining it up with the head. It was close enough that he would’ve trusted himself to hit if it were his right hand. Before he could hesitate too long he pulled the trigger. … The head didn’t explode – not that they actually did that when shot by normal pistols anyway, movies lied. Instead the bullet went way to the left and too far up. Worse than the first time he’d ever shot a gun.

“You were kinda close… maybe,” Barney said. “I don’t really know what you were aiming for though.”

“The head.”

“Ooh, yeah, uh… I’ve seen worse. Keep trying while I loot the rest of them.” He lightly patted Gordon on the shoulder before moving on to do so.

With nothing else to do, Gordon obeyed. By the time the clip was empty his hand hurt from the recoil but he had hit the corpse in the chest. It would take a lot longer to really get the hang of aiming with his left hand but it was possible. A new problem presented itself though… “I can’t reload it.”

Barney returned to his side to take it from him and reload it for him. “Lucky you got me then. Hopefully you won’t need to use it too often anyway. It’s mostly a just in case thing, you know? Anyway, I’m done here so let’s go.” He handed the gun back. “We should be nearing the end of the lab and then we can get a read on where we are and should go next.”

“Do you think we could walk a bit slower? I’m uh…” He gestured vaguely with his stump. A valid excuse to be exhausted, right?

“Oh uh, yeah, of course.” True to his word, he went a bit slower as he lead the way back out into the hall. Which allowed Gordon to easily fall into pace with him. Which he apparently took as an invitation to chat. “So… you sure you don’t know anything about my buddy Gordon?

“I’m sure.”

Barney nodded as if he’d expected that answer. “I’m sure he’s probably all right. Maybe we’ll even run into him eventually and then we can ask him if he knows he’s been cloned.”

Gordon still didn’t want to believe that but he also still couldn’t come up with anything that would prove even to just himself he wasn’t a clone. But if they were talking about people they knew though… “You know a guy name Benrey? He’s a security guard in the uh… lab I work in. Or at least, he pretends to be one.” The other guard present hadn’t been bothered by Benrey’s presence but maybe he’d been in on the prank.

“Uh, nope. Odd name though. It short for something?”

“Maybe, I don’t know, didn’t ask him.” He’d been a bit too distracted by how annoyed he’d been with Benrey most of the time he’d been around for to even think to ask such a question. “What about Dr. Bubby, you know him?”

“Is there really someone named Dr. … Bubby? No problem if that’s really the guy’s name or whatever, lots of folk got weird names but… Bubby, really?”

“That’s what he said his name was when I asked. What about Tommy uh… actually I don’t think I know his last name.”

“My pal Gordon used to have a cat name Tommie but don’t think I ever knew a person called that.”

Gordon really shouldn’t have expected anything different. Big facility and all. But it would’ve been nice if Barney knew them to make it easier to complain to him about how weird his prior companions were. Though Gordon might fit in with their weirdness more than he’d thought since he was apparently maybe a clone. Speaking of clones though… “What about a Dr. Coomer?”

“Ah! Him I do know. Or I guess ‘know’ isn’t the right word. I heard of him. He’s one of the guys who were involved in that other cloning thing I told you about earlier. I remember ‘cause he’s got a funny name. Some of the uh… other guards used to make some not polite jokes about it. Not me of course. I would never.”

As far as Gordon could tell Barney was telling the truth but what the hell did he knew about reading people? There were more important things to worry about right now anyway. “You mean the clone thing that you said failed?”

“Yep.”

“Well uh… it didn’t fail then. I was traveling with him before this happened,” he indicated his stump, “and we kept running into his clones. He had to kill them because… actually I don’t know why, he just said he had to kill them so I figured he probably had a good reason.” And if clones had a good reason to be killed then their betrayal definitely made sense. Maybe they hadn’t suspected he was one at first so they stuck with him for a while and then felt too bad to kill him themselves once they found out so tried to get the military to do it. But joke’s on them, Gordon was still alive and mostly intact.

Barney shrugged. “Maybe, I don’t know. They were certainly supposed to be dangerous so killing them if they got out makes sense. I’d heard the guy died to his clones though and after that they got violent towards everyone and had to be put down. But, you know, like most of what anyone hears about what goes on ‘round here, that’s just a rumor. Who knows how much if any of it is actually true, huh?”

“Yeah.” Gordon had certainly heard some weird rumors about stuff that went on around other parts of the facility before. Very little of it was actually allowed to be talked about and thus only of rumors and hearsay went around whenever something big happened. In hindsight maybe he should’ve paid more attention and gotten out of here before such a disaster could occur. It had basically been inevitable with how much fucked up shit supposedly happened in the building, right?

They walked in silence for a while after that. Blessed, sweet silence of people who knew how to shut the fuck up because things were serious. … Except it didn’t feel particularity blessed. After so much chatter for so long, it felt wrong. The weight of the facility seemed to hang heavier over Gordon’s head without the distraction of his prior companions’ antics. He wasn’t going to be the one who talked endlessly though. Doing so would not only make him a hypocrite but also a nuisance.

Eventually, finally, noise came from up ahead, around a bend. Gunfire and shouting. Damn it. More military just what they needed.

By the time they reached it, silence had returned. Clutching his shotgun, Barney peeked around the corner. He pulled back after a few seconds. “Aliens killed a squad of military guys. You stay here, I’ll take them out.”

“Uh… yeah, good idea,” Gordon whispered back even though Barney was already moving again. He sounded like he knew what he was doing though so Gordon was more than happy to stay here and not try to help. Losing a hand, especially one’s dominant hand, was a perfectly valid excuse to do so, right? He’d just get in the way if he tried. No need to feel bad or like a coward or whatever.

More gunfire came from around the corner as well as some alien lightening sounds. Soon after it had that stopped, Barney poked his head back around the corner. “Got ‘em. And we found our way to a tram station. Obviously they don’t work but their computer should have a map of the facility so we can maybe find a way out of here.”

“Uh… great. Let’s go.” He followed Barney around the bend, quickly finding himself in what was indeed a tram station littered with corpses.

The office was on the other side so they had to lower the bridge over the gap, using a lever. Its gears ground against against each other and whirred loudly the whole way down but if anything or anyone heard they didn’t come to investigate. The silence had an ominous vibe after it finally settled but Gordon ignored it as he followed Barney across.

In the office, the computer was already on. Barney stepped to one side of the monitor so Gordon could see it too. On screen was a map of the tram system, spanning almost the entire facility. It was wrong though. … Or no, not wrong. … “It’s mirrored.”

Barney looked up at him. “Huh?”

“The map. It’s mirrored. Like, not the words but everything else is.”

“Uh… the stress must be getting to you pal ‘cause nothing’s odd about the map. Don’t worry, it’s quite the situation we got here so it makes sense, to be a bit out of it.”

“I swear to god if you’re pulling some shit to mess with me I’m gonna… I don’t know. Nothing, I’m gonna do nothing because I can’t do anything. They cut off my fucking hand so I’m useless now. It’s mirrored. The map is mirrored. Don’t lie and say it’s not.”

Barney stared at him in shocked silence for several seconds before turning his attention back on the computer. “Whatever you say pal. The map’s mirrored. I know where we are though. Not too, too far from the old lab with that machine I told you about. It malfunctioned once but it seemed to work just fine for everyone else who used it. So it might be worth it to head down that way and see if we can’t try again. I know you’re a clone but you’re still a scientist, right? So do you thing you might be able to figure out how it works? Enough to operate it anyway.”

Snapping at him had been a mistake. He’d been the most normal person Gordon had interacted with since arriving at work – which, coupled with everything else he’d gone through was why he’d been so ready to snap but that didn’t make it okay. Assuming he’d actually arrived at all. Maybe he thought the map was flipped because he was a clone with nothing but implanted memories and that one had gotten flipped somehow. Or maybe he was just going crazy. Heck, maybe he was dead and this was hell or perhaps purgatory. Before figuring any of that nonsense out though came not dying so…

“Yeah, I’m a scientist. I could probably figure it out.” He put more confidence in his voice than he actually felt. It would depend a lot on what kind of machine it was. But to make up for being rude, he should make himself useful. Plus if it could indeed get them the hell out of here, it’d be worth it to at least try. Let the others continue the journey to the Lambda Lab to fix this, not that he trusted them to be able to. Or heck, didn’t Barney say that that was what the Gordon Freeman he knew intended to do? So it wasn’t something Gordon had to concern himself with anymore… even if it did feel cowardly to just run away especially after he’s the one who caused it. What else could he do though? They’d cut off his hand!

“Great. Let’s go.” Transgression apparently forgotten for now, Barney turned and marched out. Gordon followed. He was apparently the annoying sometimes rude follower now.

~

Next Chapter

[theminecraftbee]

There’s a flier someone’s left on the bus. Something shaming a—company logo he doesn’t recognize, as he shoves it aside to grab the last seat in the back that usually means he and Gem don’t have to sit next to anyone else—for “desecration of the Carrows Life”. Alright; with a logo and a slogan like that, it’s either a religious nut job or one of the people real mad at the Church about the demons.

Yeah, sure. He’s exhausted. Impulse can’t really bring himself to care about neon-yellow fliers in the dead of night on the bus.

Just another hour and practically every single stop down the line, and he’ll be home. He’s glad there’s a late-night bus down here; enough people come and go from these streets at two am that they make some poor bus driver do the route.

Next to him, Gem grumbles as she removes her makeup. “Impulse, why do I keep getting the waterproof kind?”

“Hard to dance and still look good if it doesn’t stand up to sweat,” Impulse says, settling into his seat as the bus starts moving again. “Don’t see why that should make it that much harder to remove, unless you’re sweating acetone these days, but they don’t pay me to know how your makeup works.”

“No, they pay you to be your stupid big protective butt. You absolutely know how my makeup works,” Gem says.

“You could wait until we aren’t on a moving bus to take it off?” Impulse offers.

“Nah. I need something to do so I don’t fall asleep, and I’m not opening my other bag until we’re both safely at home.”

“Yeah, fair,” Impulse says, not glancing at it for too long. Gem had a good night tonight. Sometimes, he’s jealous of the nights she has; the amount people are willing to throw at her sometimes is insane. Most of the time, though, he’s just glad he’s paid a regular salary to stand in the corner and occasionally show people exactly why he’s so big if they act up.

(Someone’s got to do it.)

The doors open. The unmistakeable smell of someone on way, way too much weed wafts through the doors. Impulse sighs. There’s a reason they sit in the back.

“What are the odds we get lucky and get home early?” Gem says. “My knee hurts.”

Impulse looks at her sharply. “You didn’t say anything during the show.”

Gem laughs. “Relax, relax. Not that bad. Nothing a bit of icyhot won’t solve, or one of your little…” She wiggles her fingers.

“You need to tell me these things before you dance on them, Gem,” Impulse says. “One of these days, I won’t be able to fix it! Then what are you gonna do about your knee, huh?”

“Uhuh. And the bruise on your face…?”

“He was drunk,” Impulse says. “It’s barely a scratch. Or, uh, well, it’s a bruise, but…”

“If I were any good at healing,” Gem says.

“I’ll ice it!” Impulse says, putting his hands up. “Besides, I don’t need my face to do my job. Might make guys respect me more?”

The bus stops. A few more people get on. There’s a bit of shouting from a drunk guy, and it makes Impulse look up on instinct, both his and Gem’s awareness hovering around their bag. Gem has a nasty curse on it if anyone but her tries to grab it, but these days…

The drunkard isn’t looking their way. He settles down again. Impulse doesn’t.

“One day, one of us will get a car, and we’ll just drive,” Impulse mutters.

“And pay for parking?” Gem asks.

“Well, it’s the thought that counts,” Impulse says.

The bus stops. Impulse looks up at the sign, just to make sure they aren’t near their stop. They aren’t. He almost looks down.

There’s a feeling in his gut. He doesn’t ignore gut feelings after as long as he’s been doing what he does. He puts a hand in his jacket. He doesn’t actually carry a gun; people think he does, but he’s fairly effective at threatening without it, and if all else fails, he does have a thick vest he’d bought with his own money after the only time he’d been shot. It had taken all of his savings, but it had been worth it.

He curls his fingers instead around the lucky charm Gem had given him after they’d become roommates and tries to focus on the feeling. There's something scraping nearby. A horrible scraping, like talons against brick, or maybe more like death clawing against soil.

The bus starts moving again. The drunks stay drunk. The fellow exhausted club and bar workers stay exhausted. The guy who’s high out of his mind doesn’t even blink.

A woman who had gotten on the bus, though, approaches them. Gem stiffens. Impulse is hyper-aware of the bag full of the night’s tips that Gem has with her.

“Hello. Sorry for interrupting,” the woman says. She’s tall. She has long, light brown hair that she hasn’t tied back. She’s wearing a long overcoat. It looks second-hand, but not properly so, like it’s being worn by someone who doesn’t quite know how to fit into second-hand clothes, or perhaps doesn’t quite know how not to fit.

There's bruises on her face, too. A split lip and a black eye and a bit of blood on the collar of her shirt.

"You look lost," Impulse says without thinking. The woman blinks.

"Oh! Yes, I suppose you could say that," she says. "That's..."

Impulse slowly takes his hand out of his jacket. Her voice is even more lost, somehow. Impeccably put-together. Very hard to read. But Impulse, he has to read people for a living, and this is a woman who is lost.

"I was just here because you two look the most aware and fit on the bus," she says.

"Oh, I'm not all that fit," Gem lies to the woman's face. "I mean, just look at me! I'm delicate!"

Impulse has seen Gem's abs. She's not delicate, she just puts on a show of being—still not delicate, actually, but the kind of not-delicate men like, not the kind of not-delicate she actually is. It's a fine line.

The woman raises an eyebrow. "Okay," she says. "I'm just—there are demons. Not far. I got away from them, but they might be following you."

"They're following you?" says Gem.

"Shhh," says the woman.

"Fine," Impulse says. "They're following you. Why? And why did you get on the bus?"

The woman is silent for a moment. "I don't think they'll catch up to us," she says. "I don't—I don't have another place to go back to, right now. I'm a bit... I don't mean to put anyone in danger. You two are the most fit looking people on here, is all. If danger did happen..."

Impulse feels something in him crack. He looks at Gem. It wouldn't be the first time the two of them have helped someone down on their luck off the streets. Of course, it's not entirely out of the goodness of their hearts, all the time, but, well, Impulse is still Impulse and Gem puts up with it and this world doesn't work if people don't help each other, Impulse has always said.

Gem shrugs and nods.

"Sit down. You can get off at our stop. My name's Gem, by the way."

The woman, slowly, sits down in a seat across from them.

"Impulse," Impulse says.

The woman opens her mouth. The woman closes it. "You can call me Griba," she says, finally.

Impulse quirks an eyebrow. "I can call you?"

"Hey, that sounds like—wasn't there someone with a name like that on the news recently?" Gem says.

The woman grimaces. "You could say that," she says.

Gem and Impulse look at each other. They look back at the woman. "Fine then. Keep your secrets," Gem says imperiously, and her tone works, because it makes—Griba, Impulse supposes, until she wants to give them her real name—laugh.

"At least until we find out if the demons get me," she says agreeably.

The bus stops again. They all tense. One person gets off and no one gets on. The bus starts moving again.

"One of these days," Impulse mutters.

"You've got to finish the sentence," Gem says. "Don't leave me hanging like that!"

"Is this an ongoing thing?" Griba says, and they continue onwards together.

[thelastofharrington]

the hard with the soft

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

A/N: hello! this is my first joel fic that i've ever written! i'm really excited about it and made this whole blog just to post it lol. there is plenty of smut in this so mdni! let me know what you think :)

summary: Falling in love with Joel Miller was something that happened to you little by little, and then all at once. To say the chemistry was immediate would be a complete lie. At first, you couldn’t even tell if he wanted you around, let alone wanted you in his bed. No, when he rescued you that day from one of Bill’s well-laid traps, you were certain he would never see you as anything other than a nuisance. A pest he had to take care of. 

Oh how wrong you were.

tags: praise, porn with context, slow burn, mutual pining, joel is soft on the inside, reader is down bad fr, non-canonical, rip bill and frank, takes place a year/two years after the show starts, love in the midst of an apocalypse is beautiful y'all

word count: 7k

i hope you enjoy!!!

Part 1: The Stumble, 1 Year Ago

You were hungry. Starving, even. You had been left behind from your group of outcasts three days ago (or had it been four? You were too exhausted to keep track of the time) when you twisted your ankle and couldn’t keep up the pace. You weren’t overly friendly with your most recent pack of ragtag survivors, mostly seeing them and each other as a mere means of survival rather than company. You hadn’t known friendliness or love from your packs since your parents got bit five years ago. Your parents couldn’t have known that three years after they brought you into the world it would fall apart, nor did they know they would both die protecting you from that same world they blindly brought you into. It’s been hard, but you’ve made it through and it actually was your birthday this week, the big 24. What a way to celebrate – being abandoned by the only thing keeping you safe and becoming walking bait for any clickers nearby. But still, you had fairly good spirits all things considered. Until you fell into an eight foot hole. 

It was in this hole that you realized a couple of things:

You’ve stumbled upon a domesticated piece of land. Someone somewhere near had the time, safety, and resources to dig an eight foot hole. 

If your ankle wasn’t sprained before, it was definitely sprained now considering how you landed on it.

You might have just fallen into your grave.

It was a series of progressively worse realizations, to say the least. 

Time had already felt like a concept out of your grasp for the last 20 years, but now there was truly no way of knowing if you had been down there 20 minutes or two hours when a shadow was cast on you. A man-shaped shadow. A man-shaped shadow with a gun. 

The gun was pointed right at you, the sun casting a halo around this giant man’s head. He towered over you as he held his stance firm and still. No one said anything as you both stood, unwavering. 

“I come in peace?” You finally choke out, unsure of what you could possibly say to save your own life right now. 

He doesn’t move, just croaks “How’d you find this place?” You notice the fragments of a Southern accent, nearly lost to the wear and tear of an apocalypse. 

You clear your throat and try to muster up the courage to speak with conviction. “My group abandoned me when I twisted my ankle early this week. I’ve just been aimlessly wandering.” You pause, unsure of if the next sentence will be your last, “This ankle of mine really hurts by the way. Your hole here isn’t really helping, considering I landed on it.”

You see him move his head out from behind the gun and look down at you slightly, then he moves back to position. “Are you armed?”

“No, I’m barely legged.”

He does not laugh.

“That’s something we call a joke, you know, since I can barely walk and all.”

His weight shifts again and he finally puts down the gun. “I’m going to help you out, but after that you better see yourself out of here. I don’t want any more of this and I don’t want any of your friends wandering this way either.”

“I don’t have any friends. I don’t have any family. I’m just me.”

He scoffs, “Sure, kid.”

“I’m also not a kid. I’m 24 years old and I’m hungry and my ankle hurts and why do you even have this hole anyway?!” You notice yourself turning hysterical but you don’t even care. You’re unarmed and you’re hungry and you’re all alone for the first time in a very, very long time. This man holds all of the power to help you and you’re not going to give up until he does. 

He doesn’t respond immediately, but when he does it’s in the form of him reaching down into his utility belt and pulling out a rope, and throwing you the other end. “You get one meal.”

You didn’t even know a meal was on the table, so you hobbled your way behind him as fast as you could. You ended up at a white, well-kept house behind an industrial strength gate. “How the hell did you find this place?”

He doesn’t answer right away, making you worried that you said the wrong thing somehow. Finally, when you’ve reached the front door, he huffs “It belonged to a friend.”

================================================

Part 2: The Fall, 6 Months Ago

That one meal turned into two days which turned into a week which turned a month which turned into six. You owe most of your thanks to Joel’s 14-year-old companion (contraband?), Ellie. She was instrumental in convincing Joel to allow for you to stay. If it weren’t for her, the first dinner would have easily been your last. But she was so taken with you and excited to have another girl let alone someone under 30 hanging out with them. Not that she didn’t adore Joel, or him her in his own little ways. But you were just such a breath of fresh air to her that Joel couldn’t help but allow for you to stay. 

Your role in their little group wasn’t quite clear. Joel did all of the hunting and patrolling necessary to keep this little slice of paradise exactly that, paradise. Ellie’s only job was to stay safe, and you decided to pick up the slack wherever you could. Dishes, clothing repairs, cooking dinner. Ellie didn’t need a nanny by any means, but you basically became a live-in housewife. With none of the perks, despite your daydreaming.

The last six months had been tumultuous for you to say the least. The presence of Joel constantly by your side made a lot of things very difficult. Like focusing, or keeping the weakness out of your knees, or the heat out of your dreams. He was hot, there was no denying it. If he hadn’t been waving a gun in your face the moment you met, it probably wouldn’t have taken you until the end of your first dinner to realize this. But not only was he hot, he was stoic. He was still and firm, a guiding light in this uncertain world you and Ellie both came of age in. He had a cold exterior, but judging by the way he treated Ellie, and eventually you, you knew there was some warmth bubbling beneath the surface. You knew he carried immeasurable hurt on his back, Ellie had told you about his daughter, Tess, Bill and Frank, and that was only the things Ellie knew. Who knew what was in the even further past of this sturdy man. The big, beautiful, brooding man who took care of you and Ellie despite his best instincts. 

You had only very recently gotten over your sprained ankle, taking a full 12 weeks to heal from the severe sprain. This was another saving grace for you in the beginning. Joel liked to pretend that he was heartless, but he still didn’t have the heart to send you on your merry way with only ¼ of your appendages working to their full capacity. He tried to kick you out after your first dinner despite Ellie’s whining, only to be able to only stomach three of your hobbling paces out the door. 

“Oh for God’s sake get back in here why don’t ‘ya,” You remember him sighing.

He took such good care of your ankle, at night when you’re all alone you can still feel the way his calloused fingertips massing you so gently. The hard with the soft; the essence of Joel Miller. 

“Does this hurt?” He asked four weeks in, as you sat for your nightly ankle exam. Starting your very first night, after dinner he would take your foot into his lap and exam it and massage it carefully for upwards of 15 minutes. You weren’t a doctor, but you knew enough to know that a nightly exam was excessive and unnecessary. But even at the very beginning you knew this was his way of showing you that he cared, that he wanted you safe. It was around this time that you realized that Joel had a soft spot for stragglers, for the outcasts who just needed somebody. Between you and Ellie, that much was clear, and it just made you fall faster for him than you thought possible. 

This realization and the true weight of it didn’t come to a head until one day where you decided to go out and try and collect some berries from the woods on the other side of the gate for a pie you wanted to make Joel for his birthday. You had seen him do it a million times, you thought you could get away with it. Until you heard that sound. 

Everything was fine, you had collected your blueberries and you were on your way, and then you heard it. You hear it before you see it, but soon enough you see it all the same. You had your gun with you, but your reaction time was nowhere near as fast as Joel’s was. The clicker starts stalking your way when you lose yourself to your impulses and just start running. You know better than to scream, but you get close. You run and you run and you’re looking back to make sure you’re not going to get caught when you smack into something six foot and massive. Joel’s chest. After you make eye contact you look up and make eye contact with him. He’s silently fuming, fists white knuckling around his gun. 

You go to speak when he stops you, “Don’t.” He whispers right before he shoots the clicker dead with no hesitation or struggle. The walk back to the house is silent, and not because he’s afraid of being found by the clickers. 

The slam of the front door is the first sound you’ve heard in minutes. He whips around and you swear you can see smoke coming out of his ears. “What the hell was that?!”

“I-” You start.

“You know what? I don’t want to know. I can’t hear from you right now.”

You say nothing.

“That was so completely careless! Do you not understand how we do things around here? You stay, I go. It’s as simple as that.” He’s pacing at this point, waving his hands wildly as he works through his anger with you. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

You pause, “I thought you didn’t want to hear from me.”

He stops pacing and looks at you, “Ha ha ha very funny. You’re a real smartass, you know that? If I hadn’t been there God knows what would have happened. You could have gotten killed!”

You look down at your feet, trying to hold back tears before you look back up. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to do something nice for you.”

He sighs, physically decompressing. “Well you went about it all the wrong way. I don’t need anything nice from you, you do enough around the house and with Ellie anyway,” He pauses, “I don’t know what I would have done with myself if you had gotten hurt.” He says this last part in a whisper under his breath, barely able to look at you.

“But it’s your birthday!” You choke out a sob. You’re so mad at yourself for putting yourself in danger and upsetting the man who saved your life six months ago. 

“What? No it’s not.” He says, confused.

Then, a lightbulb goes off for both of you as your jaws drop and you yell in unison, “ELLIE!”

Turns out, Ellie just wanted some pie.

================================================

Part 3: The Catch, Present Day

A lot can change in six months. But also, a lot can stay the same. You’ve grown very accustomed to the life you live here, in this big beautiful house, with your small makeshift family. Ellie is 17 now and makes Joel take her on test drives in Bill’s old truck around town. Joel has definitely gotten used to having you around, and even converted Frank’s old studio into a bedroom for you a couple of months ago. A real upgrade from living on the couch for the first eight months. 

Life is pretty standard, all things considered. You’ve heard more stories about the men who ran the house before you and you think they’d be happy to have people like you living a life like this in the home they built together. It’s a beautiful thing, to have some normalcy in a world fallen apart. 

You spend a lot of time with Ellie, who has developed a crush on one of the QZ traders. She’s tall and lean and tougher than all hell, you can see what Ellie sees in her even if you’re personally afraid of her. This realization on Ellie’s part has prompted a lot of impromptu sleepovers in your art studio turned bedroom, almost all of which are ended by Joel standing in the doorway going on about keeping quiet out of respect for your elders. You have to remind him every time that you too are an elder.

It’s also the summer time which means there’s lots to do outside. You never really learned how to tend to a garden so Joel’s been teaching you how to take care of the one Frank started all those years ago. You two keep it up with the seeds you get from trading with those select few still at the QZ, and it’s been a really special time between the two of you. It also doesn’t hurt that he prefers to work in the garden shirtless. 

“Hello? Hello? Are you even listening to a word I’m saying?” 

You snap out of the trance you were in from watching him hoe or row or whatever it is he’s doing with that gardening tool that makes his arms and back look like that. “What? Sorry, I zoned out.”

“You’re never going to learn if you keep daydreamin’ like that.” He gruffs before starting his spiel on strawberries all over again. 

You really can’t get a read on him. Sometimes he treats you as an equal, someone who has a shared interest in their work and in the safety of Ellie, but other times he treats you like you’re a toddler that can’t help but knock their head on the corner of a coffee table. He claims it’s because he doesn’t want you hurt, which you admit gives you butterflies, but if anything between you is ever going to transpire (like you desperately need it to), he can’t see you as just some kid. You’re turning 25 next week, dammit. You deserve some respect. But you’re just not sure how to get it, how to make him see you as a true equal. Someone he can rely on, put his faith into, and even care about on a deeper level. 

The opportunity of a lifetime presents itself one day in the form of something actually rather unfortunate. Joel finally gets hurt.

It’s a pretty normal day until then. You and Ellie practice driving, you journal, listen to some old records. It’s too hot to spend too much time outside, but you definitely make sure to check on the strawberries considering the lecture you got from Joel last week. It’s midafternoon when he comes straggling in, clutching his left arm in his hand and seething through the pain.

You immediately jump up from the couch, “Oh my God, what happened?”

He sinks down on the chair next to the piano, not looking at you. “Nothing, just go get the first aid kit.”

That answer is nowhere near good enough, but you go and get it anyway. Ellie is out in the backyard and doesn’t hear the commotion. When you return with the first aid kit you press on, “You have to tell me what happened so I can know how to treat you.”

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat as you kneel in front of him, opening the kit. “It’s nothing, just gonna need a couple stitches.”

You pry his right hand off his arm and see a deep gash on the bottom of his forearm. It’s not too long, but it sure is deep. “Jesus Joel, what the hell happened?”

He shifts and sighs once more, whispering something under his breath that you can barely hear.

“What was that?” You ask earnestly.

He whispers again, slightly louder this time, but he’s talking too fast to make out what he said. 

“Joel, come on. What happened?” You’re tending to his wound now anyway, but you really do need to know. 

He sighs, bringing his free hand up to pinch between his eyes. Avoiding eye contact with you he finally says, “I was walking back from trading when I saw a flower. I wanted to get that flower for you for your birthday. With my shears in one hand, I leaned down to get it, and I lost my balance and I tripped and I fell on top of the shears and they stabbed me.” He pauses, “There,  you happy? Now that I’ve humiliated myself…” He trails off. 

You’re too stunned to speak. You just keep staring at him, unmoving.

“If you’re not going to fix this up, give me the kit so I can do it myself,” He huffs at you.

You swallow and smile at him, trying to find the words. “Joel Miller, you secret softie. You maimed yourself in the pursuit of trying to do something nice for me, the girl you claim not to want around.”

He locks eyes with you for the first time during this conversation, “I never claimed that.”

Silence hangs in the air for a moment until you clear your throat and turn your attention to the wound at hand (or should you say, at arm?). “Let’s get this stitched up, ok?”

“If Ellie asks, tell her I did something super manly and tough to get these stitches, ok?”

You let out a laugh and nod, “Sir, yes sir.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s been three days since Joel hurt himself trying to do something nice for you and it has not left your mind even for a moment. You’re laying in bed wide awake, tossing and turning wondering what this could mean. I never claimed that he said so earnestly to you. I never claimed that. The four words echo in your brain like a megaphone. It’s been torture being around him as if nothing has changed. As if you haven’t changed on a molecular level after those four words rearranged every fiber of your being. It may be nothing, but it also could be something. It could be the that takes what you’ve been craving for almost a year to leave your daydreams and become a reality. Maybe he meant it in a friendly way, maybe even in reference to your working relationship of raising Ellie and keeping her safe. But if that were the case, why did it feel like all of the air in the room stood still? Why did he look to you like he was a puzzle that only you could solve? 

Cordiality be damned, you had to know the answer. 

You sneak out of bed and up the stairs, careful not to wake Ellie in her room on the first floor. Joel may be modest, but he still took the primary bedroom upstairs when they moved in. You avoid the creaking steps up the stairs artfully and end up at his door. It is only at this point you realize how crazy this is. You’re standing outside his door in the middle of the night with no plan and, frankly, no pants on. This is a recipe for disaster that you’ve quickly talked yourself out of. You go to turn around when the door swings open, Joel looking alert. His body visibly relaxes when he sees that it’s just you, and then tenses once more as his eyes trail down our body to the long length of your bare legs. 

“What are you-” “Sorry I was just-” You say at the same time.

You laugh, trying to break the tension. “Sorry, I was just leaving.”

“What are you doing up here, Y/N?” His body was pressed up against the side of the doorway, blocking it almost entirely with his broad stature. Shoulders resting on the side of the doorway, arms and feet crossed, he looked in no hurry to get you out of there. 

“It doesn’t really matter, I answered my own question. I’ll just head back downstairs,” You go to walk away when he grabs your arm lightly, turning you back to face him.

“Must’ve been some curiosity if it’s keeping you up at night.” You’ve never heard him talk like this. Not just the words he was saying but how he was saying them, they were smooth and slow and rich like molasses. It instantly made your mouth dry up and your knees weaker.

“I um, I was just wondering-”

“Yes?” He prompted, his hand still on your arm. Had he ever touched you before this? Surely you would have remembered the heat. 

You look him in the eyes and see a glint, even in the darkness. This spark of something gives you the courage to move along. “I was just wondering what you meant by saying you never claimed you didn’t want me around.”

His hand drops from your arm and the heat is replaced by an instant rush of cold in his absence. He looks away from you and doesn’t speak. 

Fearing you said the wrong thing you cower and turn to walk away once more. How could you have been so stupid? This isn’t just a matter of personal politics, this is a matter of survival. You have no one besides Joel and Ellie and if you get kicked out for bringing feelings into what is a basic need for shelter, food, and water, you will never forgive yourself.

You’re almost to the stairs when you hear him rumble, “I just meant that I have always wanted you around.” You whip around and see him looking at you, his gaze trailing down your body and then all the way back up again. “I want you here. Always have.”

Not moving towards him you speak, “Then why do you act like I’m some sort of helpless child? Why do I not have any real responsibilities? I could be out there, with you, trading and gathering intel. But instead I get, what, strawberries?”

“You don’t get it.” He looks down and shakes his head.

You walk back over to him, softly, so as not to spook him again. “Then help me understand.”

He looks at you with a softer gaze this time, “I keep you here, away from all of that, because I can’t risk you getting hurt,” He pauses for a moment before continuing, “It would kill me.”

You’re stunned. “Joel,” You start before he lifts a hand and cuts you off. 

“And I give you things like strawberries because I want you to have a chance at a good life, a simple life. One I can’t promise you forever but can promise you for right now. One I know you don’t even remember having.”

Your heart is beating immeasurably fast inside your chest. You never considered that these menial tasks were actually normal, and good. Cleaning up after dinner, growing strawberries, talking about crushes with Ellie. In the midst of wanting to prove yourself, you completely forgot to take stock of all that Joel had given you already. All the things people dream about in this day and age. 

You reach a hand up to touch his face, “Thank you. Thank you for giving me something good,” You pause, “I wish I could give you something good in return.”

He leans his head into your hand and closes his eyes, letting out a contented sigh. He turns his head to kiss the palm of your hand, “You are my something good,” he says so low you almost miss it. 

But you don’t miss it. You hear it loud and clear. You hear him loud and clear for probably the first time since you’ve met him. He is stoic and strong and brooding and brave, but he is also caring and thoughtful and safe. He is the hard with the soft, and he’s been giving you both all this time right under your nose. 

You decide to do something risky. You lean in for a kiss. You put your hopes for survival at the back of your mind and for the first time in forever you prioritize living.

It doesn’t take more than two seconds for Joel to pick up on what you’re doing and reciprocate. His arms immediately move from crossed over his chest to around your waist, pulling you deeper into the kiss. He pulls you so deep you cross the threshold of his bedroom, kicking the door shut on your way in. 

“Be quiet or you’ll wake Ellie!” You half scold, half giggle as you make your way towards the bed. 

“Sorry!” He giggles back. Joel Miller. The Joel Miller giggled into your lips. You could hardly believe your ears. 

If his words were like molasses, his kiss was just as sweet. Not too pushy, but with enough force to let you know that he was in charge. He guides you to the mattress with his body and his mouth, making you feel like you’re flying. You’re sprawled out with your legs over the edge of the bed when he finally pulls away and stands before you. 

You look up at him with hooded eyes and heavy breaths, “Why’d you stop?”

He runs his hands through his hair, “I just never want to forget this.” And he dives back down to you, not giving you a moment to respond. 

When he comes back his kiss is still sweet, but with a heat you’ve never experienced before. Granted, all of your past experiences were minimal, probably in the back of an abandoned, decaying car, and in the midst of an apocalypse, but you knew enough to know that it didn’t normally feel like this. 

You part your legs so he can insert his body between them, propping his arms on either side of your head as he kisses you deeply. You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer to you, needing as much of him on you as possible. 

“Somebody’s eager, huh?” He asks you between kisses.

Your resolve is officially broken, you’re laying it all out on the table. “You just have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

He pulls back to look at you, “Oh, I think I have an idea. You tend to have a staring problem, darlin’”

Your face flushes instantly. He lowers his lips to your ears and whispers, “I do too, I’m just a little more subtle with it.” He places kisses on your neck and then trails back up to your ear, “Your body drives me crazy, baby.”

Suddenly his hands are everywhere. One is up by your head so he keeps his balance while the other is trailing up and down your chest, your stomach, your neck. He’s everywhere all at once and it still isn’t enough. Your legs are still wrapped around his waist so you buck up to create even more friction than there already was. 

“Easy there, baby, I’ve been waiting an awful long time for this, I want to take it slow with you. Gotta treat you right.” He pins your waist down to the mattress with one hand. “Let me take care of you, baby.” His look is so sincere all you can do is nod. “Good girl.” 

With that, he takes his hand pinning you down and runs the tips of his fingertips along the waistline of your underwear, teasing you. You whine.

“Patience baby,” A kiss on the cheek, “It will be worth it, I promise,” A kiss on the other cheek. Then his fingers are tugging them down inch by inch until you’re completely bare to him from the waist down. “So pretty,” He says, almost to himself. 

Before you have time to acknowledge what he’s said, the same gentle fingertips that were teasing you a moment ago land on your most sensitive spot, creating a feeling of pleasure unlike anything you’ve ever known. Your body somehow tenses and melts into the mattress at once as he works you slowly but surely. 

“How does that feel, baby?” His voice is rough around the edges but soft at its center, he genuinely wants to gauge your reaction, as if your whines and body language weren’t enough. 

“Itfeelssogood” You slur out, hands gripping the sheets on either side of you. 

He kisses your neck, “Good. Now,” He moves his finger to your center and thrusts it in, moving his thumb back to your clit. “How does that feel?”

He’s working you up so good, you feel like you’re floating. His pace is the perfect mix between rough and conscious, never taking his eyes off you for even a second. You can tell he’s loving this as much as you are, and not just because you can feel his erection through his boxers. 

You moan as he works you before answering, “Joel it feels so good.”

“Such a good girl for me, so wet and ready. Is this what you were thinking about when you couldn’t sleep?” He whispers in your ear as he picks up the pace. 

You can feel something building deep inside of you, something you haven’t felt in a long time, and never at this magnitude. It’s coming on strong and fast, you can almost reach it. “Yes, this is what I was thinking about. I was thinking about your hands on me.”

“Mmmm that’s what I like to hear baby, what else were you thinking about?” He grabs one of your hands and brings it to his boxers, “Were you thinking about this?”

You moan and nod your head, he’s continuing to pick up his pace and you’re getting closer and closer. 

“I want you to cum for me, gorgeous. Please cum for me.”

You throw your head back and moan again, “I want to cum for you.”

“Just focus on how good it feels baby, you’re so close I can feel it. Be a good girl for me.”

And just like magic, you’re there. It hits you like a freight train and your whole body is consumed. You’re tensing and writhing and it definitely isn’t normally like this, but you’re just so overcome with emotions for this man and pleasure and all of the things that drive a girl crazy. 

He coaxes you through it with lots of reassurances and hair pets, and then finally you’ve come down. “Thank you,” You say as he brushes some hair out of your face.

“Don’t thank me yet darlin’, I’m not done with you yet.” And with that, he hauls your body up to the head of the bed, making sure your head is all settled on the pillows. He sits back on his knees and takes off his shirt, nodding at you to do  the same. You’re left completely bare and he in his boxers alone. You’re mesmerized by his body. Age normally should have broken him down, but for him he seems to have only been built up. You had seen him in the garden but this, this was something entirely different. He was raw here, with you. 

“This is what I meant by you needing to be more subtle. You don’t need to undress me with your eyes, baby, you just gotta ask.” He stands up and drops his boxers, revealing himself to you fully for the first time. He’s big. Like, real big. And thick. You don’t let yourself dwell on the mechanics for more than a moment, but you do wonder how it’s going to fit.

He gets back in bed and hovers over you once more, “Are you sure about this? We can stop at any time.”

You nod your head, “I’m sure. Never been more sure about anything, actually.”

He gives you one more kiss, a firm one with the promise of a good time. You run your fingers through his hair and tug slightly. He moans into your mouth. “You sure are an eager one, aren’tcha?”

He grabs his member and lines it up with your center, teasing you slightly. You wince at the sensitivity from your previous orgasm. “You ok?” He asks gently.

“Yeah, just a little sensitive. But I’m ready. Please fuck me, Joel.” The words even surprise yourself as you say them. You’re not the best at being direct about what you want, but right now all you can do is rely on pure instinct. 

He chuckles darkly before lining himself up once again, “Your wish is my command, sweetheart.”

And just like that, he’s fucking you. Long, hard strokes that never feel like too much too fast. Just right. You feel the fullness of him immediately and it’s so divine you can’t help but arch into him and moan. Your fingers fly back into his hair as he thrusts into you with such precision, he hits your G-spot every time.

“Is that good for you, baby? Tell me how it feels.” He grunts as he pounds into you expertly.

“I love it, baby. I love it,” You’re breathless as you try to find the words to describe the way he’s making you feel.

He takes one of your legs and rests your ankle on his shoulder, opening you up even more than you thought possible and deepening the angle of his already deep thrusts. You try not to scream, so you grab a pillow and put it over your face.

He rips it off almost immediately, “Oh no, sweetheart. No hiding from me. I want to see your pretty face when I make you cum on my cock.” 

You’re so incoherent you can’t even respond to his filthy words. You just moan in response and grab the sheets on either side of you.

He changes his pace a couple of times, switching from slow and long to fast and shallow, but it never feels out of place or off rhythm. He is just somehow so in tune with your body that he knows exactly what you need when you need it. 

You’re whining and moaning when he lowers your leg and gets his face up next to yours. His hand moves down to  your clit and he starts massaging it while he continues to thrust into you. “You’ve been such a good girl tonight baby,” He says through his own labored breathing. “Coming up here in your little panties practically begging to get fucked. Such a good girl.” You moan so loud he covers your mouth with his other hand, “I love hearing those moans baby but you gotta keep it quiet if you want me to keep going. And I know you want me to keep going.” 

You nod and he removes his hand from your mouth and sits back again, watching you from above. “Play with your tits while I make you cum.” You do as you're told, loving the feeling of his eyes fixed on you while you do exactly what he says. 

Once again, you feel something building inside of you. The combination of him inside you, his fingers working their magic, and his eyes on you makes it nearly impossible to resist the feelings as they come on strong. 

“I’m gonna cum,” You whine. 

“Do it baby, cum for me” He picks up his pace and you can tell he’s getting close himself, can tell he’s chasing something. 

It only takes a couple more seconds before you finish in an explosion of pleasure. You’re so out of it as you come down you barely register him pulling out and grabbing a tissue from the side table. What a gentleman. 

You’re both laying there in silence when the gravity of what just happened finally hits you. You just had sex with the one person that stands between you and certain death. This could ruin everything. You move to get up and go back to your room when you feel an arm on you, pulling you back down. 

“Stay,” He pauses, “Please stay with me.”

You smile softly at him and lay back down, but this time he wraps you up in his arms and spoons you. You can feel his breathing on the back of your neck and his calluses on your arms as he holds you. He starts tracing little circles on your skin with his thumb while he hums. 

“That was amazing,” You say, finally breaking the silence.

“Yeah, um, sorry if I came on too strong,” He pauses, “Haven’t done that in awhile.”

You turn around to face him and you rest a palm on his cheek, “It was perfect. You were perfect. I um, I just hope this doesn’t change anything?” You nervously finish.

He looks startled. He quits rubbing circles on your skin and moves back. “Yeah, no. No, it doesn't have to change anything.”

Clearly, you’ve struck a chord and you don’t know why or how. But you do know that you need to fix it. 

“I just, I know we’re in a precarious situation and I don’t want you to feel like our relationship has changed at all.” You begin.

He sits up fully with his back against the headboard, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Joel?” You join him up against the headboard, covering yourself with the blanket.

He sighs but doesn’t look at you, “If I had thought everything would stay the same I wouldn’t have done what I just did. I wouldn’t have opened the door and I certainly wouldn’t have let you in.”

You’re stunned and you’re scared, having no idea what he’s talking about. “What are you saying?”

Finally, he looks at you. “Dammit Y/N what if I want things to change?” He doesn’t raise his voice at all, but his tone is stern enough to send you aback. 

“What?”

Another sigh, “What if I want things to change? What if I want somebody who is going to be there for me at the end of the day in my bed? This world isn’t permanent and I can’t promise you forever but I can promise you for now. For now, I want this. For now, I want you. And I’m gonna keep wanting you until the thing that stands in the way of me and death itself disappears.” He pauses, “So yeah, maybe you don’t want things to change but I do. Sorry if that’s not what you wanted to hear.” He looks away from you again. 

“Joel, I-”

“I don’t want your pity. I get it, I’m just some old man with a 17 year old basket case trailing behind me and you’re young and beautiful and just had an itch to scratch. We’ll continue with business as usual in the morning. Good night.” He flips over onto his side away from you. 

You huff. This is ridiculous, you think to yourself. You tap him on the shoulder.

“You should probably go back to your room, Y/N.”

You tap him on the shoulder again. 

He flips around to look at you, “What more could you possibly want from me?”

You cross your arms over your blanket covered chest, “What makes you think I wanted things to stay the same?”

“Gee, I don’t know, probably the part where you said ‘things don’t have to change’?” He says sarcastically as he sits back up to face you. “Wonder where I got that crazy idea.”

“I was just saying that in case you didn’t want anything to change! I’m totally at your mercy with everything, including my survival here, so sorry for being cautious.”

He doesn’t say anything, but his mouth does fall open in shock a little bit. 

“Joel, trust me when I say I’m not taking pity on you when I say I want this too. I can’t promise you forever but I can promise you for now, and for tomorrow, and for the next day and the day after that. I choose you and I choose Ellie and I want this. I want you. I want to be the one that is there for you at the end of the day.” You smile at him and grab his hand, “You’re my good thing too.”

His face softens and he grabs your joined hands with his other one and leans over to kiss you on the cheek. You lean into it and giggle as he begins peppering a bunch of kisses all over your face. The hard with the soft, that’s Joel Miller.

“Let’s go to bed, shall we?” You ask him as he leans over you, caressing your face.

“Yeah, let’s go to bed.” He gives you one last kiss on the cheek and spoons you once more.

That night you dream of strawberries. Just fields and fields of strawberries. 

[ips-northstar-official]

Good morning. I contacted your company a few days ago regarding the warranty of one of your products, a Lancaster. To be more precise, I had some concerns that welding an apocalypse rail to it, like one of my soldiers suggested, would void the warranty, but you assured me that would not be the case. You also asked for an update should I proceed with the idea, and that is why I am messaging you this time.

Against my better judgement, I approved my subordinate’s idea. Due to the paracasual circumstances that I mentioned in my last post, the risk of loss of life was near to non-existent, so at worst I thought the explosion might be good for morale.

After moving a couple of clicks away from base, we booted up the Lancaster. It supported the massive weight of the apocalypse rail surprisingly well (to the dismay of some soldiers who had betted their rations against it). Afterwards, we placed a few Everests equipped with Whitewash Sealant Spray on standby, to deal with any fires.

And after all personnel (except for our pilot) was a safe distance away, I gave the all clear.

As predicted, the power draw of the gun was too much, and the reactor stressed very quickly. Most surprisingly however, it was that it didn’t have time to explode, it melted into slag almost immediately, and the apocalypse rail suffered the same fate. The heat released was strong enough than a couple of the units we had on standby reported stress damage on their reactors despite being quite a few meters away.

This is the part where I commend your products however. Even though the apocalypse rail melted into slag, the Lanny withstood the heat, and even though it was red hot for multiple hours after the test, we could find no structural damage during repairs.

Most peculiar of it all however, was what we found in the cockpit. Our brave pilot was cremated, as you might have expected (though I assure you he walked out of the base printer unharmed as usual), but his “Number 1 Mom friend” mug that came with his Lancaster license, which he had forgotten inside, was completely unharmed. I expected this level of quality from your frames of course, but I am very pleased with the care that goes to the little things.

On related news, you should receive a request for a shipment of mugs, lunchboxes, cutlery and other such items soon.

We’re so glad to hear that the test went that well! We design all of our products to endure all the rigors our spacefaring customers may ever encounter—from the bulk of a Lancaster down to our cutlery sets. No matter where in the galaxy you may roam, IPS-N will be there with you. When we call ourselves your friend in an unfriendly sea, it’s more than marketing talk—it’s a promise.

(Also, intern’s note here: can you pass along the video footage? That sounds sick af)

[theevilwrittingoftheresident]

Luis Sera x male!reader.

A simple one shot.

1600+ words.

The view of the castle, the decoration, the perfect lighting, wouldn’t be so bad if all these miserable Plagas weren’t here to spoil the mood and pleasure. After all, no one could say otherwise, this really was a nice castle, and Luis appreciated it regardless of the situation. But now was not the time to stop and admire it, he needed to run, and fast. He screwed up as he told Leon on the telephone, and he was right. He really screwed up, ending up cornered by the minions of Rámon, this evil and ridiculous little looking like a grandma man. His face looked so old, so pale, while on the other side he was only something like twenty-five years old. This parasite really was something terrifying when you knew how it could change a person’s behavior, his apparence. Almost everything that made this person a human being.

He made it out of the room without too much problems and saving his ass, thanks to his gun, and ran out. Running was his best option, knowing the number of bullets in the chamber of his gun. Bullets we’re some nice treasures here, on this long and cold night of Spain. Thinking of it, he didn’t saw the Merchant for a long time now, since he entered the Castle. Now would be the perfect time to show up, that was for sure. He’d give so much to see him right now.

But that wasn’t going to happen for now. Luis entered a room, locking himself up so the ganados wouldn’t be able to follow him inside. The light was off, leaving Luis in the dark, with the parasites repeatedly banging on the door to enter. The air was feeling moist, humid. After a few minutes, waiting for the ganados to abandon trying to break the door, and after the silent made his way into the room, the Spanish man searched for his lighter, in order to have a minimum of visibility. The flame of his lighter, once lit, seemed to ease, indicating a near current of air. Bingo. It was his way out. He then decided to stark walking further into the darkness of the room, silent as a dead body, alert. It appears he was alone in this room, only the flame of his lighter here to keep him company. After seconds, who felts like way too long, he froze. A sound broke the silence, making him take his gun and look around. A chain. Was it the sound of the chain of a chainsaw? No, nothing like this, hopefully. Then, what else could it be exactly? Nothing to his right, nothing to the left as well.

Only after slowly looking up, Luis’ eyes widen as he saw what was making this fated noise. Someone, tied up in chains from the ceiling, head pointing at the ground. This castle really was full of surprises. If the tied up person was in fact dead, it wouldn’t had deranged Luis. But it moved. The body was still moving. It was weak movement, maybe even involuntary movements. But what if this person really was alive? What if this person needed help. He couldn’t just walk away and lit this happen. No. First, because the little missing séniorita would hate him when hearing about this. And second because Luis wasn’t a monster. He had a heart, and wanted to help, to make up for his actions. So he sighed, following the chain with his eyes to know where he had to go to help this person.

The person in question had his arms tied up in his back, as well as his knees tied up together. A black bag was also attached on his head. Whoever did this really didn’t wanted to let him the opportunity to leave that was for sure… After finding where to start, Luis took the chain, and held it with all the strength he had, to slowly pull the tied up body to the ground. Once done, he carefully walked up to him, now aiming him with his gun. We’re never too safe…

“Listen, amigo. I’m willing to untie you, on one condition! No sudden move, no attacking me. Nothin’! Ya just wait ‘till I get away, or else I’ll shot you. Good?” He said, bending down to his height.

After thinking about what he was doing, and maybe even regretting his action, Luis finally started to untie the poor man, who didn’t moved a bit after warning him, not even nodding. He carefully started by untying his knees and feet. He then went for the arm, unsure. But he couldn’t just leave now. He started, and needed to finish what he was doing. So he untied him entirely… Only the bag remained on his head. Bag that Luis took off of him, finally looking at his face. His face was a little red, from the obvious rush of blood due to having his head upside down for a moment now…

“Hoy, amigo. You still in there, or dead dead?…” he whispered, while still looking at him.

“Feels like my head is about to explode.” He finally spoke, in a rocked voice. He may have not spoke in a very long time.

Luis was taken a little aback by the sudden response, but stayed serious and alert, still aiming at his head now… He knew it was a bad idea. The look on Luis’ face betrayed him. And the dark veins on the unknown’s face made his heart skip a beat. He also was infected, no explications. But something wasn’t normal in his behavior. The unknown man opened his eyes, looking at the spanish man. He looked so.. normal. Yes. That was the problem. Usually, while being infected with the plaga, you don’t just walk around and look so usual. But this guy did.

“Mind telling me why you’re undressing me with your eyes, mate?” The man spoke, arching an eyebrow.

The browned hair quickly looked away, taking a few steps away from him, as a safety distanciation. He was a funny guy, he couldn’t take that away from him. Luis even smirked for a second, a little embarrassed. He didn’t noticed how his gaze kept looking at every part of his previously tied up body.

“I’m just curious how someone like you is still not dead from the inside at the mercy of this parasite. Can’t blame me for that, huh?” He had a point.

“A parasite, you say?” He genuinely looked at Luis with confusion, slowly getting up on the ground to sit properly, and stretch, making very little one of his bones crack. “They.. injected me the plaga?… I mean… no, that’s not possible.”

“Well, from what I actually see, yes it is the case.” What a strange man. “Now, say— what’s your name, here? And most important, why do you think it is not possible.”

“Because it’s been at least more than a month that I’m locked up in here. It’s been more than a week that they injected me the parasite. I should be controlled by it by now, isn’t it right?” He was in fact right. The parasite usually takes control of the host in less than three days. “I’m sorry.. I’m (Y/n). What’s your name?”

“The name is Luis Sera… And that is in fact correct. You must be lying, there is no way this is the true. I’ve seen theses things, and there’s cruel, without mercy. Ain’t no way you’re just a special case.”

“Well, and I’m telling you I’m not lying! But in any case, lying or not, you should kill me. I can’t just leave like nothing happened, I still have this thing inside of me.” (Y/n) sighed, desperated by the situation. As much as Luis actually.

He was right. He couldn’t just let h walk off when he may give into the parasite at any moment. But the ex-scientific didn’t want to give up on a chance to help him. He helped Leon and Ashley. Why couldn’t he be able to help this one here, after all? He could try to take him to the laboratory, like he’s playing to do with the two americans.

Looking around for a moment, Luis spotted sheets on the ground. He grabbed it, to read what was written on it… “Project Regeneradores.” He knew that name. He once saw these things, and what they could do to people, to his surroundings. How could he even be related to theses things? But it was written. He was an experiment. And the Plagas was indeed injected for more than a week. To be specific, three month. It appears that the plaga had an healing affect on the body, causing it to regenerate as said.

“What are ya reading, now?” (Y/n) asked, getting up. The veins on his face and body had disappeared.

“Nothin’ important, believe me.” Luis tossed the papers after ripping them in pieces, and sighed. “What about we get you out of here, buddy, huh? Let’s just go.”

“What do you even mean— You’re not planing of killing me?” The confusion was getting even bigger now.

“Nah. We’ll find a way to take that parasite out of you, believe me. It’s not the first time I do that.” What (Y/n) didn’t know was that the parasite was already too big to be extracted. Luis knew it… but he’ll find something. He knew it. He had to.

“I see.. Okay, then, Luis… I’ll follow you, I guess.. I owe you one.”

“That’s for sure!”

He may have untied him, now Luis had even more problems to deal with. But he was the one to put himself in this stories, so he’ll put up with it no matter what. He’ll save them. Leon, Ashley.. (Y/n.)

[delugedecade]

OC: Keppel Kikyo-iru

||Name||: Keppel Kikyo-iru

||Age||: 22

||Fandom of Origin||:

RWBY / Kamen Rider

||Semblance||: Graviton Surge

Capable of changing the weight of particular limbs near instantly. E.G. a flurry of kicks with the weight of a heavy kick, or rapid punches being like bullets.

||Weapons and Gear||:

Dust Driver Prototype: In conjunction with the Ankh Company's Variable Dust Weave technology, the Ankh Company's Dust Driver channels the elemental energy of the inserted dust canister through dedicated Variable Dust Weave Relays and Armor, capable of imparting its energy through projectile and physical strikes. It is set to standby upon contact with compatible Variable Dust Weave Armor and with compatible dust cartridge inserted. Initial activation by pressing the activation slider on the side of the Dust Driver will set it into "Duster Mode" outputting a low and steady flow of energy from attached dust cartridge. Second press of activation slider will set it into "Buster Mode" and will increase dust energy output. Prototype can only maintain mode for a minute maximum. Third Press of activation slider will set into "Finale Mode". Energy flow rate is set to maximum possible rate without consequence of Dust Driver entering Critical Failure state, requiring a reboot. Often tested as a finishing move, and uses up to half of the canister's dust.

Graviton Buster: A sawn off shot gun that takes rear loaded dust cartridges, standard load out of hard light dust. The front holds a detachable blade that can attach to the front hook of the barrel.

Dust Book: A dedicated portable holder in the style of a book, designed to contain and carry 16 dust cartridges compatible with the Ankh Company's Dust Driver and Graviton Buster.

||Notable Features and Usual Outfit||:

Magenta Hair.

Ankh Company Prototype Variable Dust Weave Armor, Painted by Keppel for some flair over the boring all white and black it was initially.

Large Black/Purple Visor

Purple Mask.

||Bio||:

The case file on Keppel Kikryo-iru has largely been redacted, and Keppel personality is near perfectly reflective of it. He is quite secretive and stoic, and yet always soft with children. I am unsure if it is just around other adults, or just his distrust of me. I don't blame him after whatever my father did to him during his tenure as CEO, or his escape from the testing facility.

I am just lucky that I was able to find Keppel under my charge of the Ankh Company. There's a lot I don't know about him. And I wish I could've seen the original case file. But now that I've entered some form of collaborative effort with him, I hope I get to learn about him more, what makes him tick and what motivates him to safe people from the Grimm.

I will continue to monitor Keppel personally. After all, I must clean up the mess my father made while he took charge of the Variable Dust Weave experiments.

Auburn Yong Ankh.

[venus-lou]

Pluto’s help - 141 x f!Reader

Warning: horrible grammar, no plot

Word count: ~650

A/N: This is my first little blurb. I recently lost my job and decided to write a little something. I haven’t really done anything like this lately, art/writing block has been with me for a few years. Hopefully this isn’t to bad.

“Look Kat, I already told you. I am not joining Task force 141. You know I work alone, so I don’t know why you’re pushing this.” Sighing as you leaned back in your chair. You just finished a black op down in Ireland to tie loose ends that the ARW doesn’t want in the books. The safe house was only 8 klicks south of your current location, however the cut running down your leg and the bullet wound on your shoulder was making the hike excruciatingly slow.

The last thing you expected at the safe house was Laswell ushering you in and patching you up. “Look I don’t care if you hate 141 but we need you on this. Shadow Company, General Shepherd went black and I got 141 and Los Vaqueros out in Las Almas in guerrilla warfare.”

You took a deep breath, putting your boots back on. “When do I leave, debrief on the bird?”

“Watcher-1 to Bravo 0-9, you in position?” Laswell’s voice coming through your ear piece. After the debrief, you were to meet with Sergeant Rodolfo at the Vaqueros safe house where Ghost and Soap would be at.

“Nearly there.” Once you landed in Las Almas, it was strangely quiet. Houses and streets empty beside lifeless bodies of residents littering the streets. Threading your way to the safe house, luckily you had no encounter with Grave’s shadows, probably near the center of the city on a man hunt for Ghost and Soap.

“Bravo 0-9 to Watcher-1 going dark. Arrived at location” After hearing Laswell’s afrim, you switch off your radio. Slowly walking toward the door, gun raised prepared for any outlier that might be inside. Looking down you tilt your head to the side, noticing a pressure plate at the doorstep.

“Hmm Colonel Vargas smart man” looking around you notice a window nearby. Taking the knife from your holster, looking for any movement inside “Sergeant Major Parra? Pluto aquí. Laswell me envió”. You made yourself known in broken Spanish, hoping to find someone here. Laswell better have not sent me to a dead end. You thought as Major Parra looked at you from the shadows.

Sighing at the silence you received, you started switching between channels on your radio trying to reach one of the 141 out there.

“Bravo 0-9 to Ghost. This Pluto here to help.” You repeated between channels switching between Ghost and Soap. After a few tries you got nothing but static back, looking around you notice a shadow hiding behind a pillar. Before they can move you quickly throw the knife in your hand lodging it in the wooded post in front of them.

“Pluto? What kinda name is that?” Rodolfo finally came out the shadows approaching you. “Good throw. Call me Rudy” Sighing as you take back your knife “Thanks, I’m sure Laswell filled you in. I’m Pluto, what’s the current situation?

After Rudy explained everything from Graves to Alejandro and the rest of Los Vaqueros being locked in their own compound. You’re currently sitting on a crate cleaning your knife waiting for Ghost and Soap.

Your ear perked up after hearing some ruffling outside, turning to Rudy you both nodded and headed for cover in the shadows. Looking through your scope you notice a skull mask in the window and before you knew it, a knife lodged itself in the wood next to you.

“Ghost? Soap?” The skull mask quickly turned to the left looking at Rudy. You can see the tension in his shoulder loosen a bit. “Rudy. Glad to see you mate.”

Handing the knife back to Ghost “Not a nice gesture for your rescue now is it?”

“Pluto finally joined us huh?” Ghost stared at you for a while before turning to Rudy.

[georgesmith00x2]

Local Moving Companies Florida | Gun Safe Moving Company Near Me

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[adamsuniverse1144]

Glow Week Day Four: Nurture/Nature

Comet was a... well, Comet had lots of love to give to his parents. Instead of play with the other children at the park, Comet preferred to stay with his parents and watch. He was curious, but reserved.

Tons of pediatrician visits told them nothing was wrong, but Connie couldn't stop her worrying until they had visited the Crystal Gems one particularly sunny day.

"Whoa, who let these little crazies in the house?" Greg asked with a hearty laugh as the girls squealed and ran for him.

Steven glanced away and down to his son, clinging to his leg. Comet was only 3 since Connie had had a lovely 3 months of recovery before they'd accidentally made a third child. But now his pink eyes met with his fathers and Steven immediately picked him up. Comet hadn't shown any signs of gem powers at all, but his eyes turned pink when he was feeling frustrated or nervous.

"Hey there, Comet. Grandpa will come see you once you're calmer." Greg had easily picked up on Steven and Connie's hints that Comet was gun shy. The gems took a bit longer but once they'd seen a bit of overstimulation, they'd backed off at a warning from two pink eyed people.

Connie patted Comets back as he laid on Stevens shoulder. The man instinctually began to sway to soothe him in the way a parent does once they are accustomed to the lifestyle. "Doctors say he's fine. It's just a bit behind his milestones."

Steven had the urge to remind her about milestones not being concrete, but kept his mouth shut as Garnet stepped out of the temple room and grinned. "I... predicted something like this might happen."

The girls gasped and little footsteps turned into them climbing Garnet.

"Garnet, yesterday I beat Azalea in a race!"

Lucky giggled as Garnet picked her up one handed and Azalea up by the back of her shirt. "I bet I could beat both of you."

"That's no fair! You have future vision!" Azalea proclaimed. "Amethyst has to play too! Mommy, Daddy, can we go play outside?"

"Of course." Steven grinned and moved out the door. "It's a beautiful day just... Be safe. Please."

"And you say I'm a worry wart," Connie teased as they all piled out. The day was too nice to not join them, and despite his care to make sure his father was okay, Steven was a tiny bit of a helicopter parent.

"I just love soaking up as much memories as I can. Plus, there's always a chance of trouble," Steven pointed out, pulling her onto his lap. "I love my perfect little family."

Greg chuckled and sat down wearily. "It's nice isn't it?"

The longing in his father's voice made him once again feel guilty. He'd never experienced anything like this with Rose. It wasn't fair.

He watched as Lucky and Azalea charged across the decidedly slippery sand to try and slap Garnets hand and race back. The unending energy was fascinating to him. Even with his stamina being endless, he could still only tolerate running for so long before he was too sweaty and bored to continue. But their little bodies seemed to be bursting at the seams with motivation.

Except his little Comet. Comet had one arm behind Steven as he leaned and one hand playing with his Mommy's hair as she rested back against him.

After a while Garnet tagged Pearl in, who Azalea immediately began asking to show all the places she'd been. After careful and straightforward discussion, Pearl knew which places to show and which to save for an older age where she would process the real story better.

Garnet was silent, stoic as she watched the children of what she supposed was like a human son to her. She could see endless possibilities with every ticking second, but the scene in front of her was far more interesting.

The rest chatted until the girls asked for water and dinner, so they all packed up and headed inside.

"You coming, Garnet?" Greg asked. "It's gonna get dark soon."

"I'm not afraid of the dark. I've got me as company."

As dinner came near, Connie heard the front door open and shut. Immediately her Mommy Senses were tingling and she followed the sound to watch as her 3 year old walked down to the beach and sat next to Garnet. "Steven."

He excused himself and joined by her side. They watched as Comet did his signature lean and Garnet patted his head. No words that they could hear through the screen or the ocean were exchanged. It seemed they were sitting in a comfortable silence.

"Maybe he's just quiet," Connie relented softly. "Maybe we just birthed a quiet child, and I have to be okay with three blabbermouths instead of four."

Steven sighed in relief. "Yeah, you think? Come on." He lifted her into his arms and thought really hard about telling Garnet dinner was ready. If he thought about it hard enough, it'd eventually become a possibility that he would. Instead he kissed his wife and sat her down gently, tapping her bottom as he passed. "Time for food, girls!" Then he paused midstep. Connie giggled just as Steven scoffed in offense. "Wait, what do you mean four blabbermouths? We only have three kids!"

She only laughed harder.

[walker33961]

_______________________________________________________________

Y/N "LAVENDER" RILEY - TF-141, LOS VAQUEROS

CARTEL PROTECTION

LAS ALMAS,MEXICO

30 OCT 2022 1000

________________________________________________________________________

- Laswell provided some information about Hassan being protected under the cartel information.. The Mexican forces confirmed he's moving something sizeable towards the US. They suspect that they might be the missile.. Not known to their number of how many it can be. Shepherd ordered to capture Hassan for interrogation. Sending Ghost, Lavender and Soap to link up with the Mexican Specials in country along with all the manpower they need. Laswell said that a war might be dangerous. So, the General tasked Phillip Graves and his shadow company.. Their rules of engagement can help them to cut some red tape and get the mission done.

.....

.....

*Ghost, Lavender & Soap arrived Las Almas, coming down from the airplane*

.....

......

......

Soap :

Alejandro...

Alejandro :

Sergeant MacTavish.

Soap :

Call me Soap.

*looks towards masked Lavender*

Alejandro :

Sergeant...

... Laswell said your "Lavender"

Lavender :

Yes, Colonel Vargas.

Alejandro :

Call me Alejandro, Hermana..

Honour to have most powerful sergeant after Soap with us.

Soap :

Well..Actually, I believe she prefers to be --

Ghost:

That'll do.

Lavender :

Save it for Later Soap...

Alejandro :

Since your name is Ghost..

Welcome to the "City of souls"

....

.....

*Lavender almost choked with the joke , Alejandro giving his serious smile and walking near to the car soap trying best to hide his laugh..Ghost ded silent*

....

....

Soap :

I've never been to Mexico ...

Alejandro :

This isn't México .

.. This is Las Almas.

Ghost :

Shepherd's contractors are inbound to reinforce.

.. They're bringing harware.

Lavender:

They'll need room.

Alejandro :

My base is your base.

Ghost :

Good.

.. Now where's Hassan?

Alejandro :

Cartel safe-house, ten clicks from here.

.... Get in.

*Alejandro orders his soldiers to start their vehicle and follow his one*

*Everyone got in the car*

*Alejandro introducing Rodolfo, who's sitting in the drivers seat*

Alejandro :

This is my second in command, Sergeant Major Rodolfo Parra.

Rodolfo :

I'm afraid of Ghosts...*Spanish*

*Lavender understood what Rodolfo meant but kept silent , She knows Spanish from her fellow sergeants and lieutenants*

Lavender :

Easy Brother *Spanish*

*Rodolfo looked back realising that the Brits sergeant girl knows Spanish*

Alejandro :

You know Spanish?

Lavender :

All goes to my Mexican fellow friends on the base .. Heh

*While going through the Las Almas streets*

*Soap noticing some armored threats, grabbing his sniper*

Soap :

White truck, four armed in the back...

Alejandro :

Hey - tranquilo

-- that's normal here.

.. Guns on the street is jurisiction of the police .

Ghost :

Where the police?

Alejandro :

Well, Las Almas has a very serious problem.

.. There are few to uphold the law.

And many of those who resist corruption...

Disappear.

Soap :

What about the military?

Alejandro :

Well, because we are well trained, soldiers are recruited by the Narcos..

Ghost :

Why not you?

Alejandro:

We grew up here.

They call us Los Vaqueros.. *Spanish*

... Cowboys

We love this place...

And we'll due fighting for it.

*Lavender noticing Kids buying balloons but the cartel is surrounded*

Lavender :

Kids, guns and balloons...

That's a new one

Alejandro :

Narcos use generosity to win over the people.

Soap :

Even the children ?

Rodolfo :

Especially the children.

*Ghost, Soap and Lavender notices dead bodies wrapped with Cartel cloths*

Soap :

What's on those sheets?

Alejandro :

Narcomantas

Rodolfo :

Cartel cloths..

Alejandro :

Messages from El Sin Nombre.

Warnings... Marking territory.

......

... Our streets are laced with death...

Ghost :

Who's El Sin Nombre?

Alejandro :

El Sin Nombre, The nameless.

The leader of , Las Almas cartel.

Soap :

Where can we find him?

Alejandro:

You can't ...

No one knows who he is..

But he's everywhere..

And this is a challenge..

..and los Vaqueros like challenges.

Rodolfo :

With your mask.. You'll fit in well Ghost.

Lavender :

*Cough*

Be easy on my brother Sergeant Major, *Spanish*

Jokes don't work over him.. *Spanish*

But Ja.....

*Ghost got right away that she was about to say something over Jade..poked her lightly with his elbow, Lavender winked at his brother, Soap wishing to say something like that over her , bcz she also doesn't like mask jokes*

- Alejandro sees an army checkpoint, Tells Rodolfo to turn right.. To go round.. Soap asks why change of route, he explains that they are some troops in the pocket of El Sin Nombre. As El Sin Nombre is everywhere...

Alejandro tells that the cartels are hiding Hassan in the Village across the river.

Hoping that he's still there...

- After reaching to the spot, Alejandro ordering his army to be in position.. Everyone getting in to their spots and, Alejandro said Hassan is protected in a white 2 storey building, back of town. Cartels got alert after they opened the gate to come up over a place..with bunch of civilians house which are now used by the cartel.. Shots got fired in both groups... Cartels were moving fast... There was a house, ordered Lavender to take the door, she fired a cartel member in front.. Some shot came from the side room, soap threw a bomb and the threat was clear..

*moving in forward while checking*

Soap :

What happened to the families here?

Alejandro :

The cartel brings violence, so they leave.

...

Get ready to move

*soap, who was about to open the door from inside , Alejandro stopped him*

Alejandro :

Stand by...

.. Victor - 2 , this is 1-1 . Deploy smoke.

We're moving external..

Victor 2-1 :

Copy.

Smoke out...

Soap :

Where's your family Alejandro?

Alejandro :

I keep that a secret mostly hermano... To protect them

But... My wife is on the lead.. Will introduce her to the team ,

She's one of the Los Vaqueros..

Lavender :

Would be a blessing to meet her.

*Alejandro smiles at her response.. Ghost talking to himself inside about his sis being so curious about family things..he understands the reason honestly... Soap blushing hard at her smile while asking Alejandro...but not visible due to the outer smoke coming inside a bit*

Ghost :

We have concealment.

Alejandro :

Let's move..

... On me soap..

...

This is where they're hiding Hassan.

Expect resistance..

.. All teams, Set containment. Prep for breach.. *Spanish*

Go..!... Go!..

- 4 of them secured a room.. Alejandro confirmed that Hassan was not there.Ghost sees Quds force flag and confirmed Alejandro's intel was solid. Rodolfo informed them that Armies were rolling in...

Alejandro :

Shit... *Spanish*

Lavender :

Who is it?

Alejandro :

The Army.

Lavender :

We got reinforcements..

Alejandro :

Negative.

*Alejandro trying to cover his men.. For protection"

Ghost :

What're we doin'?

Alejandro :

Covering my men..

Once they're clear...

We fall back..

Lavender :

You want us to engage with the Mexican Army Colonel ?!?

Alejandro :

No Hermana...

These troops are paid by the cartel.

.. Helping the cartel to protect Hassan..

*Lavender who was about to fire over one*

Alejandro :

Hold your fire sergeant...

We'll dig in until my men are clear.

Lavender :

Multiple vehicles from the left...

Ghost :

From the right too...

Troop transports. Light armor..

- Suddenly shots were firing as it was raining bullets...out of nowhere someone threw a smokebomb.. Everyone started coughing ..except Ghost & Lavender ..since they're always the masked..

It was a toxic bomb... Not that harmful , minor. .

Soap was coughing badly...

*Lavender hands him a smoke relief inhaler*

Lavender :

Push and breath...

*Soap inhaled the air from it and became all good*

Soap :

Thanks Bonnie..

*Lavender.. Addressing the whole moment in her heart... He called her Bonnie a little hope of him having feelings for her..lights up.. She's All shy but not speechless*

Lavender :

Let's get going Soap...

Next time I'm brining extra masks for protection from smokes & all ..

Alejandro :

Brother who? *Spanish*

Lavender :

Y/n "Lavender" Riley...

So you know now who's my elder brother Colonel... *Spanish*

Alejandro :

I like your style hermana...

My Mrs. Would be so happy to meet you all brave soldiers..

Let's get going....

- Everyone going with the lead way.. Came across some path walk mountains... One was down a bit... Alejandro told Lavender to jump... She jumped and landed fearlessly , they were talking while passing..

Rodriguez :

The cliffs are dangerous

But you're doing well sergeant..

Lavender :

It's easy for me to do the jump-run shit on the cliffs..

Alejandro :

Keep that courage in Sergeant...

Ghost :

You know your way?

Alejandro :

We used to cut school and play here.

Soap :

Until the cartels moved in....

Alejandro :

Exactly...

The narcos changed everything..

- Armies started shooting in their way, Rodriguez fell off with shot..

Lavender :

Rodriguez!!

Alejandro :

Rodriguez!..

*shoots the threat*

Snipers down!...

Ghost :

Bloody good shot, mate!

...

Soap :

Armies still trailing us.

Alejandro :

We'll gain some ground-!

Ghost :

.. Move , sergeants !!

- Three came to a dead end..

Ghost :

You led us to a dead end, mate!

Alejandro :

We jump from here!

*Alejandro jumps*

Alejandro :

Don't lose your weapon !

...

...

...

*splash*

...

...

Ghost :

Sis your next!

Lavender :

Hmmph...

*Lavender jumps*

Ghost :

Soap, we stay here...

we're dead !

Now jump !

*Soap jumps*

*Ghost Jumps*

Alejandro :

You good hermanos ?

Ghost :

Affirm.

Alejandro :

Soap?

Soap :

Breathing..

Alejandro :

Where's Lavender?

Ghost :

Lavender, do you copy?

Lavender :

Moving down river to the bridge...

Using a rock for cover till you guys come over.

Soap :

Scared the shit out of me *Scottish*

*Alejandro & Ghost understood what he said*

Lavender :

Victors and Bravos .. Be careful

Threats are nearby the sight and in good count..

Keep your weapons all ready to fire!

Alejandro :

Solid copy.

..

All stations, this is Victor 0-1 - How copy?

Graves ;

--dow - 1 , Do you --?

-ay again

--o you re -- ?

Soap :

Radio's picking up somethin'

Lavender :

Might be the shadows..

The accent..

Ghost :

Sounds American..

- Alejandro signals the armies arrival, Ghost contacted front, soap took the West and Lavender took near the brige, all using rocks for cover... Graves came along in the comms.

Graves :

This is Shadow - 1 !

Engaging the bridge North of your position.

Danger close!

Alejandro :

Who the hell is that?

Lavender :

Commander Graves,

Shadow Company..

They're with us.

Ghost :

Shadow - 1

Bravo 0-7 ! Good shots!

Fire for effect!

Graves :

All stations, no enemy movement detected.

You're clear.

.. It's good to see you all in 1 piece..

Ghost :

Likewise, mate!

Alejandro :

This way!

Ghost :

We've located a vehicle for exfil.

Graves :

Roger that.

Be advised, we got a possible hit on Hassan, two clicks North from your position.

Alejandro :

That's cartel land.

They have compound there.

Lavender :

Load in!

Soap :

Let's roll!

Lavender :

I'll drive.

Graves :

You guys good to roll up Hassan with some fire from the sky?

Soap :

Let's wrap this fucker up Graves!

Graves :

Copy.

We are pushing to the target di-rectly,

Shadow - 1 , out.

[underfiends]

Ahoy Devin

Here's a Sea of Thieves based story I'm currently writing in collaboration with @hannrenn

This is just a lovely little blurb born of our brainstorming. Enjoy!

The Sea of Thieves is rife with dangers; the undead claiming any land not overrun by humans, sirens stalking the depths for anything that breathes air, unnatural hurricanes and storms following any ship they deem worthy of sinking, giant sharks ready to bite into a ship while krakens wait to sink them. Yet despite all of these horrors, the most dangerous foe will forever be another ship. Many a pirate crew have been lost to the waves, courtesy of their own kind.

This unforgiving life has bred into it harsh, angry pirates far too slow to trust. A Captain is as likely to be killed by their own men as they are to be gunned down by another ship. A crewmate’s position is as uncertain as the motives of their bunkmates. To a pirate, nowhere is safe unless you are alone.

The first mate is reminded of this harsh truth when she is shot while calmly holding an empty chicken crate. The iron round tears through her right eye, her back hitting the ground with a thud that would be painful if she could still feel it. Her eyepatch flutters to lay discarded tatters beside her head. Blood soaks into the ground, bringing the tiny pieces of bone and brain matter into stark contrast. Her other eye stares unseeing at a retreating body of animated bones.

Her body lays there, in the hot sun, strewn across the boardwalk of Ancient Spire Outpost. Senior trader Mildred, the resident Merchant Alliance company liaison, watches on as the first mate groans and sits up.

“Back from the dead already, are we?” Mildred asks.

“Ya know I don’t stay down fer long,” the first mate looks around with a touch of nervousness, “Say, ya didn’t happen ta see where me shooter went, di’ja?”

The disgruntled lady points up the island, towards the tavern. With a nod, the first mate makes her way to Colin’s building, this Outpost’s clothing shop. When she enters, she does so with a firm hand over the right side of her face. It does nothing to disguise the smears of crimson down her neck and stains on her clothes.

“Whatcha lookin’ for, lass? I gots just about- good gods! Wha’ happened t’ ye?” Colin stares at her with wide, concerned eyes, taking in all of the blood.

She waves her free hand in dismissal. “Nothin’ ya need ta worry about. Just need a new patch fer me eye.”

“O’ course, right away. Lemme see here, I gots one I’m sure ye will like. One o’ a kind, can’t get it anywhere else. Aha!” Colin turns around, a dark eyepatch clutched in his hands.

She takes the strip of sturdy black leather, turning it to see the golden eye staring back up at her. The eye of a kraken, a young one no doubt. Certainly a rare article of clothing, and not one that comes cheap.

“Colin, ‘tis wonderful, but ya know I can’t afford something like this.”

“Pah! I’ll take tha’ usual price. Can’t have me favourite customer runnin’ ‘round without one o’ these.” He taps a gloved fingers to his own golden eyepatch, grinning.

The first mate flushes, touched and embarrassed. She turns her back to the old man, after moving her hair to cover the bullet’s exit, to hide the gruesome sight of her gaping wound as she secures the eyepatch in place. Then she turns back around, eye downcast and shoulders hunched despite the small quirk of her lips.

“There. No one’ll forget tha’ pretty face o’ yers anytime near. Now go get tha’ rat who’d done this t’ ye.” With a wink, he shooed her from the shop.

Outside, she makes her way to the far side of the island. Despite Colin’s words, she’d really rather not run into the one who shot her. Besides, she’s fairly certain it was a skeleton; odds are she spooked it somehow, or offended it. No one around her was screaming or shooting at it, so it must be at least mostly friendly. Just not towards her. Which is fine! Not everyone is going to like her, she knows that. She just wishes it didn’t have to involve her getting shot.

She reaches the far docks, set at the base of the larger rock formation that holds winding rickety rope bridges leading to the outpost’s tavern. Glancing around warily, she begins to rifle through one of the many barrels left around for any to pillage. She’s just pulling out a fire bomb when she hears the unmistakable clack clack of moving bones.

The first mate freezes, fire bomb held out in her hands. Slowly, she turns her head so her good eye can see the rest of the wooden walkway. There, one red eye peeking out from the brim of a tattered black tricorn hat, stands a skeleton. She quickly stows the bomb away, unwilling to let it be seen as a show of aggression, and elects to simply stand there still as a board. The skeleton sways left to right, head tilting to and fro as its fingers twitch from where they rest near a sharp blade and a familiar flintlock.

The skeleton waves.

The first mate blinks, startled. It waves again, then jumps a few times and takes a step forward. She stumbles back, struck with a sudden chilling terror that vanishes as quick as it came when the skeleton freezes. Taking a closer look, the twitching fingers no longer seem as threatening. Instead, it’s as though the skeleton is nervous.

It waves. She waves back. It’s jaw chatters, head bobbing excitedly and both hands coming up to wave now. She lets out a quiet laugh, then waves back just as enthusiastically. When it jumps, she jumps. And when it pulls out a concertina, she pulls out her hurdy-gurdy. The sweet melody of the well known ‘Be Calmed’ shanty lifts into the air, a little choppy and missing the voices of many a pirate, but good none-the-less.

After the last note rings out, the first mate hesitates. She can still feel the gaping wound beneath her eyepatch, but the skeleton seems quite friendly now and she really does need to get back to her Captain. So with another wave, she begins the walk back across the island. When her captain’s ship is in sight, she turns to see if the skeleton is still in view, only to see it running after her. She freezes, torn between curiosity and terror.

It stops a few paces from her and tilts its head. After a moment, she begins to walk again. Now she can hear the clack clack of the skeleton following her. Sweat beads over her neck. She gives a salute to Mildred and calls a farewell to Colin, all while trying to ignore the animated bones that never stray too far from her.

What if it tries to kill her Captain? What if it follows them all the way to another island and steals their ship, or takes their treasure and shoots them? What if-

“Oh! Who’s this?” The voice of her Captain breaks through the fog of uncertainty.

He’s carrying the chicken crate she’d forgotten to grab after being shot. And she’s looking at the skeleton behind her, all open smiles and welcoming friendliness. She turns to the skeleton, unsure what to say. Before she can say anything, it crouches down and drags a finger through the sand.

D E V I N

“Devin? Is that your name?” When the skeleton nods, her Captain smiles even wider. “Nice to meet you Devin! I’m the Captain of this here ship. I’m afraid we can’t stay to chat though, we have quite the adventure to embark upon.”

With that, they wade out into the water. Without hesitation, the first mate follows closely behind him. She can see their shoulders relax when he notices her, and they reach the ship soon after. They would have docked by the boardwalk, only there had already been another ship there. Now, she can only assume that the ship belongs to Devin.

Clack clack follows them as they descend below deck to stow away the chicken crate. They turn, finding Devin standing there.

“Uh,” she begins, “I’m not sure we got room fer another on the ship. ‘Tis built fer two.”

“It’s fine! Devin here can just enjoy the sailing. You’re plenty free to tag along.” The Captain makes his way up to the stern, a jaunty tune to her step.

After a nervous glance at Devin, his first mate follows. With practiced ease, she begins the task of raising the anchor. Halfway through, there’s a clack and suddenly the work becomes much easier. She glances up to see Devin at the other end of the capstan. The anchor is raised in record time, and she quickly lowers the sails, again with help from a certain skeleton. When all is said and done, the ship sailing cleanly over the waves as the Captain takes the helm, she turns to Devin.

“Thank ye.” Devin tilts his head at her words, then nods and makes his way below deck.

She follows, making her way to stand next to him at the map. He begins to move his finger around, with no clear destination in mind, simply wandering over all of the islands that the Captain and his first mate have found. She reaches a finger up and points at one island in particular: Chicken Isle. Devin stares at her finger, then turns to go back above deck.

The first mate stands there, nerves growing with every passing second. She knows her place is here, at the map to track the ship’s progress towards their destination, but she can’t help wanting to rush to her Captain’s side. Her fears are only assuaged when Davin comes clacking back down the steps. This time, a bright red parrot follows him.

The first mate’s eyes light up, hands coming as if to reach for the small bird before she stops herself. Devin chatters his jaw, then gestures towards the bird. With the invitation now freely given out, she crouches down and bends her arm. The bird gives a short squawk, then hops up onto her forearm. She straightens, stiff as a board, staring with wide eyes at the small creature. It shimmies along her arm until it can reach her shoulder, then nuzzles its feathered head into her jaw. She lets out a gasp of delight, flushing a moment later when Devin’s jaw chatters in response.

She stands there for who knows how long before the bird flaps its wings and hops over to Devin’s shoulder, nuzzling in the same way it had to her. She turns to the map, shakes the excitement out through her hands, then races above deck to her Captain.

“Devin has a bird!” She keeps her voice in a low whisper yell. “I got ta pick it up; it’s so cute!”

Her Captain chuckles, giving her a knowing side glance. “See? Devin’s not so bad. Seems like quite the friendly skeleton.”

She flushes again, bowing her head. “Aye, that he is.” She pauses, taking in their heading. “A wee bit more ta the East, Cap’n.”

“Right, adjusting course.” The Captain handles the helm with an almost fumbling finesse. The way her steering looks awkward and refined all at once, truly something only her Captain could achieve. They always get to their destination though, and truly that’s what counts. “Why don’t you head back down there and spend more time with Devin? You know he’ll leave off when next we make port.”

The first mate nods, overcome with a sudden sense of longing. She shakes it off easily enough and goes back down below deck. She finds Devin standing at the map again. Instead of joining him, she heads to one of the openings in the hull serving as windows of sorts. She pulls herself up to sit on one of the sills, her legs dangling out over the water. Devin joins her with a clack clack of his bones.

They spend the next while like that, just sitting and staring out at the waves. Devin’s parrot hops between them both, sometimes flying out into the air before circling back to land on one of their shoulders. It’s nice, peaceful. The time passes easily with company, even if nothing is being done, and soon her Captain is giving out the call of land.

She hops back down and rushes above deck, taking her post at the sail length cleats. As they approach Chicken Isle, she begins the process of raising the sails. With that done, their momentum slows considerably. Once the ship is in the correct position, she begins to lower the anchor. Once again, Devin helps here, making the strain of lowering the anchor slowly less considerable.

Finally, they are able to get off the ship and catch some chickens. The first mate is first off the ship, taking no time to jump into the water in preparation for her Captain’s descent. Suddenly, a shot rings out.

The first mate flinches and cries out in alarm, ice sliding through her veins at a horrible realization. Devin is alone with her Captain. She’d allowed herself to become comfortable and complacent, and now her Captain may be dead. Another shot rings out, this one making contact with the sand at shore.

She blinks. At shore? The first mate turns in the water, looking at the shore of the island to see a Skeleton Captain aiming a gun in her direction. Yet another shot rings out, this one catching the Skeleton Captain in its shoulder. The glowing pile of animated bones clacks angrily, retreating into the dense brush that coats this part of the small island.

Devin hadn’t been betraying them, he’d been saving her. With that realization, she feels a rush of relief and guilt. She’d thought wrongly of him. He’d shot his own kind to help her, and she’d thought those horrible things of him. As her Captain begins his descent with the chicken crate in his arms, she resolves to not make the same mistake again. Devin is good, truly good. He is a friend.

Together, the first mate and Devin clear the island of skeletons. The Skeleton Captain’s head is removed to turn in to the Order of Souls, and a treasure map is retrieved from another skeleton. She follows the map, then points to the spot that must be dug up. Devin digs until he hits the surface of a chest, then together they pull the chest from the sand and lug it back to the ship. Two times they do this, then another when Devin races over with a supply chest full of preserved food.

When the Captain comes over triumphantly carrying a red speckled chicken in the crate, they swim back out to the ship and set off again. After ensuring that they are headed in the right direction, the first mate once again leaves Devin at the map to talk to her Captain. She makes her way to the helm, standing there and watching the waves as a sort of peace settles over her.

“So we got what the Merchant Alliance asked fer?” She asks her Captain.

“...”

An oppressive silence falls over them both. “Cap’n?”

“...I may have, er, misplaced the bounty.”

“Ye misplaced the bounty.” Her voice is hard and accusing.

“Yes?”

“So we don’t know what the bounty be askin’ fer. Which means we may’a gotten the wrong chicken.”

“Yes, precisely.” They nod, chin tilted up and grin firmly in place. Only the slightest strain shows her nervousness.

The silence descends once more, choking them both. The first mate can feel anxiety and shame clawing at her bones. Then a thought occurs to her. Devin just voyaged with them this whole way, and they may have gotten the wrong chicken.

“Cap’n.”

“Hmm?” The Captain ignores the sweat beading on his forehead, trying to pretend the ice in her first mate’s voice isn’t real.

“If we dock at the Outpost, an’ we got the wrong chicken… I be shootin’ Devin.”

“What? No! We are not-!” He glances down in a panic, realizing their words will carry to the skeleton below them. She quickly lowers her voice. “We are not going to shoot Devin. It will be fine. We can send him on his merry way and then get the right chicken.”

The first mate takes a deep breath, trying to calm down. Her cheeks feel hot and her hands are shaking. “I’d shoot ‘im fer the embarrassment alone.”

“Well, we ain’t gonna shoot him at all.”

She takes another deep breath, forcing her body to relax. With a firm nod, she makes her way back down to Devin. She tries to ignore her Captain’s stare, relieved when she is hidden from view.

Devin looks up, then waves cheerily. She feels a rush of guilt at even suggesting shooting Devin. She wouldn’t have killed him, just downed him long enough for them to escape and never ever run into him again. Perhaps they’d even flee the Sea of Thieves. Yes, that seems like a good plan. If the chicken is the wrong one, they will shoot Devin and then sail away to never return. He’ll be just fine.

She sits back down on the window sill, Devin once again sitting beside her. The air feels oppressive this time, weighing heavy on her mind and crushing the breath from her lungs. She pretends to not notice the worried glances Devin is giving her. The ship can’t reach the outpost fast enough.

When finally the outpost is sighted, she leaps to her feet and races above deck to be free of the crushing weight. Once again she goes through the familiar motions of docking, trying to ignore how happy it makes her when Devin helps with the anchor. Having help really is quite nice.

She retreats below deck to grab one of the treasure chests. When she comes back up, she deposits it at Devin’s feet. He tilts his head at her.

“This be yers,” she points at the chest, then at him, “Ye helped collect two chests, now one be fer ye.”

He glances down at the chest again, then tentatively picks it up. When she nods, he clacks happily and descends the ladder. She goes back down to retrieve the second chest, going down before her Captain and swimming along beside him. They go separate ways once on land. She heads to the Gold Hoarders tent, cashing in the contents of the chest in exchange for proper gold. Then, she and Devin head towards Mildred to see how the Captain is faring.

His shoulders are hunched. She walks up to them, stopping beside them and giving Mildred a tight smile. The Captain is still holding the chicken crate.

“It be the wrong chicken?”

“Aye.” She glances at her nervously.

Behind them, Devin chatters his jaw and then clacks as he steps closer.

“I’m gonna shoot ‘im.”

“No!”

[daziechane]

You should be able to read that without a subscription. But here it is if you can't:

By Gabrielle Giffords

Ms. Giffords was a Democratic U.S. representative from Arizona from 2007 to 2012. She is the founder of Giffords, a national organization dedicated to saving lives from gun violence.

After every shooting, blame and rationalizations fly. I know, because I was shot in the head at a 2011 congressional event near my home in Tucson, Ariz. Eighteen other people were shot at that event, six of whom died. In the weeks that followed, there were all kinds of arguments as to why and how that could have happened. To me, only one rang true: Someone dangerous had access to a gun.

There have now been two assassination attempts on former President Donald Trump in just over two months. Two separate assailants, in possession of semiautomatic weapons, came terrifyingly close to inflicting great harm. But the through line here isn’t Mr. Trump. The through line isn’t the Secret Service. The through line isn’t heated rhetoric. The through line is, as it always is, the guns.

We are a country weary of repetitive gun violence. When that happens, you have a school shooting on a Wednesday and the country’s attention has moved on by Friday. You have a country where shootings on interstate highways appear to be a pattern and students in Kentucky miss several days of school during a manhunt for the perpetrator of the most recent interstate shooting. I imagine many people reading this right now might not even know about that shooting, or that manhunt, or those kids in Kentucky, doing schoolwork at home because it’s not safe to go to school.

Political rhetoric matters — but rhetoric wasn’t in the bushes around Mr. Trump’s golf course, or on the interstate in Kentucky, or in the school hallways in Georgia, or at the Trump rally in Butler, Pa. Dangerous people with guns were. The most recent would-be attack on the former president, on Sunday, is an indicator of where we are as a nation: a place where no one is safe from gun violence.

There’s no doubt that our political debate needs to cool down. We live in a participatory democracy with a wide range of opinions. We always have times when emotions are running hot; it’s inevitable.

What’s not inevitable is angry or inexplicably violent people having such easy access to guns. In Pennsylvania, a gunman too young to buy a beer nonetheless got his hands on a semiautomatic rifle. In Georgia, the high school shooting suspect was 14, and used an AR-15-style rifle. In Kentucky, the suspected gunman reportedly sent a text message declaring his intention to “kill a lot of people” and then opened fire with an AR-15-style rifle. Nothing about these episodes was inevitable.

I didn’t grow up in a country with a lot of school shootings, or mass shootings generally. The gun industry was granted broad legal immunity by Congress in 2005 through the Protection of Lawful Commerce in Arms Act, a major contributing factor to the soaring number of gun sales. That was great for gun company profits, and terrible for public safety. With the saturation of guns and loosening of gun laws came, unsurprisingly, a saturation of violence. Gun deaths have skyrocketed since the gun industry received that immunity. So when Senator JD Vance, the Republican vice-presidential nominee, says school shootings are a “fact of life,” he should know: They weren’t a fact of life in this country until guns proliferated and loopholes in our laws allowed dangerous people to get them.

I am, at heart, a political moderate. I believe that successful governing requires a measure of moderation — pragmatic concessions that lead to the breakthroughs that move us forward. The value of moderation is that it allows us to find common purpose and to act on solutions. But moderation without action is merely a different kind of talk, and talk is not what’s wanted or needed now.

How can we tell Americans it’s safe to send their kids to school, to head to the grocery store, to attend concerts or houses of worship — or political events with their families — if we won’t acknowledge the danger that weak gun laws present, and won’t take reasonable steps to keep them secure? All over the country parents are having to answer their children’s questions about whether school is protected, about why these guns threaten their childhoods and their lives.

One thing I learned as a candidate and elected official myself was never to try to talk people out of their own reality. Americans know the dangers of gun violence. They see it in their communities and on their news every week. Now they’ve seen a heavily guarded former president as the target of gun violence twice in just over two months.

And Americans know the difference between action and inaction. Recent research from my gun violence protection organization, Giffords, found that 95 percent of likely voters in battleground House districts — including 91 percent of people who voted for Mr. Trump in 2020 — support background checks on all gun sales, which would make it harder for dangerous people to get guns. Seventy-four percent of those survey respondents support banning weapons like the AR-15 and the AK-style rifles, the weapons implicated in the events this week, last week and the week before.

I have fought so hard to recover from my grievous wounds. I’ve fought hard to work, to stand shoulder to shoulder with other survivors and demand different gun laws. I’ve worked so hard to find my voice — as hard as it is, as much as I struggle to find the right words — to share not just my story of violence but also my deep belief in the American people, that we can find a different, safer way of living.

It’s Monday morning as I write this. Earlier today, students threw books and papers into their backpacks, grabbed lunch or their water bottles and headed out to school. We have promised them safety, but how can we look them, or their parents, in the face and pretend that the answer is anything other than changing easy access to guns? Our path forward requires us all — leaders, voters, Americans — to name the problem clearly and to take action.

[robbno]

An echo from the mist was shaping two men by a fire. A long man and familiar face that was Aftur and a short man with a white beard.

"Sorry. Maybe this was a bit more than you should have to handle." Said Aftur as his shoulders sunk in a deep sigh.

"Nonsense." Said the shorter man. "Although I agree my nerves are a bit out of their limits. I still feel more as a part of something than ever before."

Aftur laughs and had to admit the old badger's view had developed in times like these. "Well said, Gren."

They kept their ears pierced in the heavy shade surrounding them as they waited.

"Do you think the others can spot the ember of our campfire? We are all out of dry wood." Gren tried his best to wake up the flames again.

Aftur didn't answer. His eyes reflect the gentle glow of whatever was left to be called burning wood.

Gren turned to check on the young man who suddenly gone so silent.

"She use to love the sunrise." Aftur was talking so low that Gren had to move himself a bit closer. "It always reminded me of her when the beams of sunlight is flashing between the trees."

Gren sighs "By the sky and valley. The lass is safe and sound in town with a few of our top lads and lasses as company."

Aftur was rubbing his eyes as if he drifted off for a second.

"I just miss her, it's all. We haven't been apart like this before."

Gren pats the young man on his shoulder. "Yeah, I understand. You have every right to feel that way. But that longing is what's keeping you alive. So be happy."

Aftur looked a bit concerned at Gren. "What keeps the void away from you?"

Gren gives up on the campfire and grabbed his gun laying by his side before walking across the camp with a big yawn under his beard.

"I think about that final swig of ale waiting for us when we get back. I can already taste the hint of oakwood and black currant in it's character" said Gren and vanished from view.

Aftur seemed a bit brighter before the memory fades back to nothing.

Who was this Gren guy and how did he knew Aftur? Thought Netti.

The lantern had no answer. What a surprise.

Netto picked up the piece of metal that triggered the memory. It looked like a piece of Gren's weapon from the memory. Something that belongs near the handle. She thinks. Although she was unsure what it was used for.

The lantern started flicker again. Did it hear another soul?

Something appear in the light not far away. The ground was sinking in to a deep void that felt even heavier than the black sky. A lot of emotional energy was flowing through here. A gut killing sense of dread and regret. An echo of a cry far away.

Netti didn't want to, but if there was someone else around here. It would be for both their interests if she found the poor soul before something else did.