#I’ll split it into multiple bags when I carry it inside after work

[honeybeeofficial]

black walnuts are SO much work but I cannot resist the siren call of free food on the ground

[oh-no-my-hand-slipped]

A new prompt for you! (Finally :3)

I'm picturing multiple couples or a family group (4+ adults) who share a cottage together in the middle of nowhere, living off the land. Winter is coming, bringing with it its chill winds and early dustings of snow. The people are hard at work every day, chopping wood and putting aside the last of the food for winter.

It's the worst possible time to get sick, yet someone does, coming down with a miserable, streaming cold and high fever. What do they do about it? How do the others respond?

Could have definite cottage core elements, or fantasy (since you're so good at writing that!) or contagion if you choose. Can't wait to see the results :)

It’s been so long since I’ve written a real, honest to god fic, so this will be my debut back into snzfucker favor!

Okay, okay, who to include in this house of contagion?

We need a soft healer boi that takes care of everyone before themselves, of course. A very strong, stoic, hardworking warrior with muscles of steel - but the same can’t be said for his immune system. A hyper comic relief (like if Scout from TF2 was in a fantasy setting) that insists he isn’t sick, but can’t keep back his sneezes long enough to prove his point. And, of course, a tall, thin scholar whose cold heart is only melted by his fever.

Adventurers packing it in for the winter and preparing for journeying in the spring, now only at most a few yards from each other and having shot immune systems from the exhausting work. Illness doesn’t have to travel far to infect…

Oh, this is gonna be good.

***********************

“Look look look! Otto, you’re not gonna believe this!”

Barlow skidded to a halt, almost tripping over his own two feet before regaining his balance. Otto chuckled.

“Alright, alright, que pasa? What is so exciting?”

Barlow fumbled with his cloak before pulling a shiny coin out of one of the pockets.

“I got this off a path when I was pickin’ berries! Must’ve been a merchant or something…”

Barlow’s eyes suddenly lit up.

“Or maybe a warrior! Ooh, or a knight! Definitely somebody with a cape.”

He flung the back of his cloak behind him and stood tall, crossing his arms with a self-satisfied grin. However, Barlow couldn’t keep the pose long - the frigid air made him close the thin burlap around himself again, shivering. Otto knitted their brow.

“You’re wearing your summer cloak,” they said, looking Barlow up and down. “You must be freezing, chiquito!”

Barlow waved his hand, as if batting away Otto’s concern.

“Don’t worry about it, doc. It’s gonna take more than a little wind to get me down.”

As if to prove a point, he spread out his arms and spun around, laughing at the many leaves he kicked up.

Otto would usually be charmed by the sprite’s antics, but their concern soon outweighed their amusement.

“Just make sure to change into your winter clothes soon, okay? I would hate for you to get sick.”

Barlow stopped spinning, coughing a bit as he caught his breath with chilly autumn air. His hot breath clouded around his face like smoke.

“Okay, okay,” he panted, “I’ll grab it when I go by the cottage. Forgot my basket anyway. See you around, doc.”

With a quick salute, Barlow ran off, cloak billowing behind him, still clenching the coin in a tight fist. Otto shook their head and sighed. They knew that Barlow just didn’t want them to worry - but that only made them worry more. The healer in them couldn’t help but notice red-tipped fingers, congested voices, and pallid complexions. Besides, with a harsh winter underway, a cold could very quickly rear its ugly head, turning into bronchitis, pneumonia, and even infect a person’s magic…

Otto took a deep breath. Their thoughts had run away with them - and now, more than ever, it was important to stay focused.

The doctor gathered up their scrolls, pulled their coat close, and started back to the cottage.

Perhaps a little tea would calm their nerves.

***************

“it’CHEW! CHEW!”

“Salud.”

“Ugh…thanks, doc. Snf!”

Otto looked up from his knitting to see Barlow rubbing his long, pointy ears with a pained look on his face.

“Do your ears hurt?”

Barlow put his hands in his lap. “No! Just, uh, a little itchy.”

Severin, who had been reading on the sofa across from Otto, hid a smirk behind the yellowed pages.

“Someone must be talking about you,” he drawled smugly. “Considering the way you conduct yourself, I’m not surprised.”

Instead of snapping back, Barlow still scratched at his ears. Severin slit his eyes and continued to read. He almost seemed disappointed.

“Could be thragweed,” Godric rumbled from a large wooden stool, rubbing his beard in thought, “but they usually shrivel up by the first frost. Didja see any three-leaved plants while you were out foragin’?”

Barlow shrugged, wincing as he rubbed harder. “Um…maybe?”

Otto frowned. “Be careful. You’ll hurt yourself if you keep scratching like that.”

“S-sorry, I…huh-hold on…”

Barlow buried himself in his cloak, with only his mop of red hair showing.

“hit’SHEW! Huh…it’TCHEW!”

The sprite continued to let out sneeze after sneeze, his wrinkled, pink nose only showing when he needed to come up for air. Otto got up from their chair, and they were soon holding him by the shoulders to keep him from knocking himself over.

Barlow finally finished, snuffling into his sleeve. He looked up at Otto with bleary eyes.

“Sorry, doc, I don’d dow whad’s gotten into be…”

Otto hushed him with a gentle pat, using their free hand to feel Barlow’s forehead. They clucked their tongue.

“Oh, mijo, you have a fever...”

Barlow’s breath caught, and he coughed into his shoulder. “Nah, I…I’b okay, Otto, really. I’ll be…snrk…fide in the morning. Just gotta sleep it off…”

Otto smiled gently. “Well, you’re right about one thing. A good night’s sleep is exactly what you need. And maybe a little salve for your poor ears…”

Their hand still on Barlow’s shoulder, Otto guided the sprite to his bedroom, mumbled protests and miserable sneezes trailing behind them.

***************

Barlow’s fever never grew very high - his burning ears and nose, however, kept him up for most of the night. By the time morning came, he was too exhausted to even feign health. Otto had to put him back to bed, which was only met with pitiful murmurings.

“‘M fide, doc, I…hetch’CHIIIEW!”

“Pobrecito! You sound even worse than yesterday…”

“C’mon, Otto, I…”

“I don’t want to see you out of bed today, okay, cariño? You need to rest.”

“Nngh…”

Otto and Severin split the foraging work, since their respective jobs were mostly planning and budgeting the winter ahead of them. Godric promised to keep a good eye on the patient, but that didn’t lessen the doctor’s worry any.

“I wonder how Barlow’s doing,” Otto murmured, probably for the umpteenth time since they’d begun their work.

Severin scrutinized his severely pricked thumb. “Children always carry around such nasty things. It’s a wonder he hasn’t caught the plague instead of a simple cold.”

Otto froze mid-pick, and Severin hurried to correct himself.

“Peace, my friend. It is just a cold, after all.

He grimaced.

“One I dearly hope he keeps to himself.”

They both continued to fill their baskets with berries, wiping the frost off their shiny, black skins. However, Otto’s mind continued to race.

I shouldn’t have left him. Godric only knows so much. What happens if his fever spikes? I’m a healer, I’m not supposed to leave the sick behind. Should I go back? I should go back. No, I promised Barlow I’d get his foraging done. But I can’t keep a promise if he’s dead. What if he’s already dead? What if Godric’s on his way right now to tell me? What if I’m already too late? How will we bury him, the ground is too hard. Otto, your friend has died and all you can think about is how to bury him. You must be the most selfish -

“Otto.”

Otto snapped back to reality to see Severin giving him a fierce side-eye.

“It’s only a cold.”

Otto took a deep breath. “Right. Gracias. I…I lost myself, didn’t I?”

The afternoon went by in a quiet fervor, both of them trying to fill their baskets before the sun went down. With Otto’s quick fingers and Severin’s thin ones, it was an easy job, and the managed to get back before it got too dark.

Otto wasn’t two steps through the door before they were at Godric’s heels, wringing their hands and stammering through the worries that had built up through the day.

“Are you sure…how…did he…should I…?”

The warrior just chuckled and put a gigantic, calloused hand on the their head.

“He’s on tha’ mend, doc, on the mend. Sneezin’ his head off, sure, but gettin’ better.”

As if on cue, two loud sneezes interrupted them from one of the bedrooms, followed by a mumbled curse and a few wet sniffles. Godric shook his head.

“Been like that all day, poor tyke. When he wasn’ dozin’ off, tha’ is.”

Severin took a few scrolls out of his dragon-scale satchel.

“I understand you have a more…pressing engagement. Why don’t I take the calculations tonight?”

But Otto was already on their way to Barlow’s bedside, medicine bag in tow. Severin only lifted his eyebrows and turned on his heel, setting up the many notes he had taken and a few quills on the oaken table.

“Besides,” he murmured to himself, “I don’t want to get near whatever affliction that sprite’s come down with.”

*************

Barlow was scratching at his drooping ears, which were now covered in a red, peeling rash. Otto gently pushed his hands back under the quilt.

“I know it itches, but you need to try not to scratch.”

The healer took a small glass container out of their bag, dipping two fingers into the greenish-gray ointment inside. They began to apply the salve to Barlow’s ears, taking care not to put on too much.

“Tell me when you need a break,” Otto said.

Barlow nodded, eyes squeezed shut. After a few minutes, his nostrils started to twitch, and he held up a hand.

“G-gudda…huh…!”

He jerked forward into his knees.

“hit’CHEW! hhhit’SHEW! Uh…hut’SHIEW!”

Barlow snuffled into the quilt, and Otto handed him a tissue.

“Salud.”

“Ugh…sorry, doc…”

Otto put the cork back into the glass bottle and set it on the bedside table.

“It’s alright - most sprites have the same reflex.”

“No, I beant…for…”

Barlow bit his lip, his ears drooping even lower.

“For geddin’ sick.”

Otto put a hand on the sprite’s back.

“Oh, mijo…”

“I-I didn’d mean to,” Barlow whimpered. “I…I should’ve god by coat like you told be to…and dow w-we’re - hic - gudda starve…”

Otto hushed him, pulling Barlow into an embrace and rocking him slowly back and forth.

“We will be fine, mijo,” they whispered, their voice soothing Barlow into a sniffle. “We will forage until you are better, and not a day before. That is what friends do. They protect each other, they take care of each other, and they love each other like family. And that is how I love you. Like my family.”

Barlow hiccuped, trying to speak through his tears.

“Shhh, mijo…it’s okay…”

Otto wrapped the quilt tighter around Barlow and laid him down, pushing hair damp with both tears and sweat out of his face. The sobs quieted, then dissolved into shaky breaths. Before Otto even made it through the doorway, they could hear small, congested snores coming from the pile of blankets.

*****************

Scritch scritch scritch…scriiiitch…

Harried quill scratching filled the air as Otto entered the living room, putting on their tweed coat and wool gloves. They stretched out their arms.

“Buenos días!”

Godric lifted his coffee mug as a greeting, his famous half-smile dancing over his lips.

“Well, aren’tcha bright as tha’ north star this mornin’!”

Otto beamed. Barlow had slept soundly through the night, and he was still fast asleep when they had checked on him. Not a sniffle or a sneeze came from that room.

“Severin, I was thinking we could pick up acorns today,” Otto thought aloud, buttoning their coat. “There is a beautiful place in the forest…”

Silence. The quill scratching only grew more manic. Otto glanced up.

Severin was hunched over the table, writing madly on several open scrolls, only pausing to move a few beads on his abacus. Otto went back to getting ready. Sometimes it took a while for Severin to answer if he was engrossed in his calculations. He would respond when he got to a stopping point.

After about fifteen minutes of fidgeting with their scarf, though, Otto tried again.

“From what I’ve seen, we should be ready for winter in a week, maybe less. All that’s left is the dried vegetables and a few more logs for firewood.”

Again, there was no answer. But now that Otto was a little closer, they could see why.

Severin’s eyes were inflamed and painful, as were his gaunt cheeks. His long, usually well-preened hair was matted against his forehead, with stray hairs sticking up this way and that. Thin shoulder blades came together with each labored breath. Long fingers shivered around a red quill, leaving stray marks on the parchment.

“Mi sombro,” Otto breathed.

The shadowling blinked, raising his head stiffly. Pools of sweat, shaken loose by the movement, streaked down their face.

“I…couldn’t sleep,” Severin croaked. “Have I…have I been awake…?”

Godric looked up from his mug, finally noticing the sorcerer’s state. “Stars above, lad! Ya look like hell frozen over!”

The shadowling stared straight ahead, his breath coming in ragged strains.

“Could someone…please put out the fireplace…?”

Otto clucked their tongue, putting their hands on either side of Severin’s neck. His dark eyes fluttered shut, as if with great relief.

“Mm…”

“Ay, tu cabeza,” Otto cooed, putting their hand on Severin’s forehead. “You’re burning up.”

Severin finally looked down at the doctor. His tense gaze was now dazed, vulnerable - even afraid.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said again, hoarsely.

Otto rubbed their thumb on Severin’s feverish cheek. “I know, cariño. I know.”

***************

It took a lot more doing to get Severin to bed than it did Barlow. Not only did he insist he was perfectly well, only warm from the unlit fireplace, but that he had seen terrifying visions outside the window.

“Their eyes, doctor…they stared into my very essence…a…a beast of some kind…we’ll be killed…”

“Shhh, my love. It’s only a nightmare from your fever. You will feel better soon.”

In the end, the only way Otto could leave the cottage was by taking a small talisman Severin had in his cloak. They weren’t superstitious, but Otto wanted to do anything they could to put the sick sorcerer at ease.

Now with one less healthy person in the group, Otto rushed to get the last of the supplies for the cold winter ahead. The first snowflakes were beginning to fall, which made finding acorns that much more difficult. Before the sun reached its peak, the ground was completely covered in a thin layer of snow. But, for once, Otto’s anxiety was an advantage.

They plowed through every task as if their life depended on it. Another of their friends falling ill had kicked their healer instinct into high gear; whenever they were fatigued or sore, all it took was a few words of the healing oath to get them going again.

“From the monsters of the cave, of the sea, of the heart,” they whispered while peeling wild wolf onions, “I shall protect and provide for those who cannot.”

As morning turned to afternoon, the light flurry of the morning became a bitter gale that howled through the trees like a hungry animal. The world was silent except for the frigid wind - all the creatures of the forest knew well enough that the winter ahead would not be kind to them.

But Otto knew nothing of this.

And so they marched forward.

It was quite past dark when Otto returned to the cottage. Much to their delight, a fire was flickering in the fireplace, and a wonderful, familiar smell lingered in the air - a mixture of tender meat and spices.

As Otto had hoped, there was a pot of stew left over the flames. The broth still bubbled with warmth, and the chicken and vegetables gave off a heavenly steam. Their stomach suddenly felt very hollow.

They hadn’t eaten all day, had they?

With raw fingers, the doctor tried their best to use the ladle, which was as big as their entire arm and weighed twice as much. Gripping the handle with both hands, they brought the brew to their lips, taking care not to burn their tongue.

A beautiful, soothing flavor poured down Otto’s throat. They leaned their head back and closed their eyes, making sure to drink up every last tasty morsel. It was a long time before the ladle was empty again.

Once they were finished, the healer felt a heaviness collect around their eyes. Finally, at long last, they could rest. The cottage was fast asleep - and now it was time for Otto to follow suit.

Sleep came upon Otto too quickly for them to retire to their own bed. Like a hound after a successful hunt, they crawled onto the sofa and curled into a ball, dead to the world before their head hit the soft cushions.

*******************

Otto wasn’t sure how long they slept. They remembered bits and pieces of dreams, of words, or memories - but mostly a comforting darkness that lulled them into a deep drowse.

When they finally awoke, the first thing they saw was the flitting of the fire. The flame had all but burned itself out during the night. Otto rolled over, stretching and sighing with satisfaction. That was the best they had slept in several days.

They indulged themselves in a large yawn and shifted off the sofa, cringing from cold stone against their bare feet.

The cottage was still silent with sleep - not a thing stirred but the creaks and groans of the wooden beams. A frigid wind had picked up outside, and bits of snow swirled in the air.

How cold Godric must be this morning, Otto thought as they padded towards the hallway. The warrior was always up and working by first light - quite before anyone else was awake - but came back inside to drink some hot coffee and see how the preparations were going. Godric made a strong cup of coffee. One could smell it and be ready for a new day; that’s usually all most could stand without sputtering.

Today, however, there was no earthy aroma of it brewing. All Otto could smell was a hint of the stew they had eaten the night before - the husk of a beautiful, delicious dream.

The doctor peeked his head into Barlow’s room. The sprite was laying on his stomach, eyes closed and breath soft. Though they had been feeling better for the past day or so, Barlow’s nose frequently ran away with him, and was still very pink and sensitive. His upright ear twitched ever so slightly, but there was no sign of him stirring any time soon.

Severin, on the other hand, had fared much worse. Despite the many wet rags coating almost every inch of his febrile body, his breathing was still heavy and labored, and his eyes darted under closed eyelids. Bite marks covered cracking lips. Otto made sure they made little noise as they tiptoed from the doorway. Severin needed all the rest he could get.

Otto turned from his patients, a familiar heaviness weighing upon their heart. Such misery in what was supposed to be a warm season of reaping and feasting.

Perhaps it came back with them from market, or from the many travelers that take the nearby road into town. With how hard everyone had been working, and how many nights were left unslept…

Otto massaged the bridge of their nose, dashing from one possibility to the next, feeling more and more ashamed by how little they prepared, how stupid they must have been, how utterly selfish! They had been so busy with preparations that they had barely noticed that their journeymates were wasting away!

They could have done something. This was all their fault, wasn’t it? How could they be a healer if they couldn’t even keep the ones they loved safe?

Otto was roused from their guilt by the sound of harsh coughing. They peeked their head into the past two rooms, fearing that one of them had been awakened by their footsteps. However, both of them were still out cold. Or out warm, in Severin’s case.

No, the coughing wasn’t coming from their rooms, Otto realized. It was coming from the third bedroom - the one that they and Godric shared.

The door creaked open as Otto shuffled inside, already knowing the worst was yet to come.

“Doc? Is tha’ you?”

Godric was sitting up in bed, quilt wrapped around him, his chest heaving with another hacking fit. His cheeks were flushed with effort and fever. Otto went to his bedside, their heart dropping into their stomach.

“Real nice ‘a this cold to leave the healer last, eh?” the warrior joked before laying back down with a quiet groan.

Otto pushed the hair off Godric’s neck and felt his lymph nodes, which were not only hot, but terribly swollen.

“I can chop those few pieces ‘a wood, an’ then I’ll-”

“You are not getting out of this bed,” Otto said sternly. Then, with a kinder tone, “I know you want to finish your work, but you are very sick. You shouldn’t be out in the snow.”

“But how-”

“I will take care of it, cariño. Just rest.”

Godric opened his mouth to say something else, but just coughed and covered himself up with his quilt.

“Take care of yerself, doc,” he said before Otto went to check on the others. “There isn’t anythin’ I can’t do after I’m back on m’feet.”

***************

Between taking care of three sick creatures and the final preparations, Otto ran themselves ragged over the next few days. None of their friends were particularly hard to take care of - especially after Severin’s fever broke - but the heaviness of their heart continued to weigh upon them.

With no other options, they threw themselves into work.

If they chopped enough wood for an extra week, they chopped enough wood for two extra weeks. The larder was more than full. Their fingers and hands and back and everything else was sore, but they couldn’t stop for long without feeling their guilt gnaw away at them.

One frigid morning, Otto had taken to the axe, splitting wood and putting them in the shed to keep them dry. They had run out of pre-cut trunks a long time ago, so they started cutting sticks in half for kindling. Out of the corner of their eye, mid-swing, they saw a figure marching through the snow - lifting their foot high before stomping it down again with a crunch.

After a few minutes, Otto could finally see a pair of long ears fluttering in the cold wind.

“Barlow!”

The sprite grinned as he approached Otto, holding up a steaming container of something in his mittened hands.

“I got soup!” he called out, trying to move faster in the deep snow. “Godric felt a lot better today, so he wanted to try somethin’ new. It’s real good! Even Severin ate a whole bowl of it, so you know it’s gotta be great.”

Barlow sat next to the chopping block, and patted a mound of snow next to him. Otto sat down, wincing as their sore muscles twinged.

“Godric says we’re all packed up for winter,” Barlow continued as he handed Otto the food. “And we’ll even have stuff to eat in the spring, too.”

Otto didn’t answer, but tucked into the soup, not even blowing it off before putting the spoon in their mouth. Barlow thought for a little bit, then spoke again.

“Doc, Godric told me that we got more than enough food and wood to last through the winter. If you wanna come inside, we’ve got a checker game goin’…”

Otto didn’t respond, but they had started to shiver from the cold. Barlow took of his coat and draped it around Otto’s shoulders.

“C’mon, let’s get back. Everybody’s waitin’ for us.”

Barlow took Otto by the hand and pulled them up, then led them back towards the cottage. Otto trailed behind like a quivering lamb, both exhausted and numb. They couldn’t think of much else than putting one foot in front of the other.

When the pair finally got back to the cottage, a warm, cozy scene awaited them. Severin was on the couch, doing needlepoint with half-open eyes and content look on his face. Godric was above the stove, stirring a pot and putting one seasoning or another into it. The fire was blazing in a lovely orange hue that painted the scene with a beautiful glow.

While Barlow went right inside and was greeted by the others, Otto stood in the doorway, weary eyes closed, soaking up the light and warmth as much as they could.

“Doctor?”

Severin was up now, his quiet wisdom regained. Before Otto could answer, the sorcerer started to remove their soaked outer layers with quick fingers.

“If Barlow didn’t bring you here,” Severin said, “you would have worked yourself to a frozen skeleton.”

Otto suddenly jerked his head to the side.

“het’TCH! TCH! TCH’UH!”

“Many blessings, doctor.”

Severin smiled and tilted his head.

“Many, many blessings.”

Otto sniffled, rubbing their nose with stiff fingers.

“Nngh…gracias. Just a little…heh…htch’CHU!”

“Aye, I don’ like tha’ sound of that,” Godric rumbled from the kitchen, turning his head to see the sickly healer.

Otto waved their hand. “Just a li-hih-ttle sdiffle…”

“One that is long overdue, I think,” Severin said, putting the last of their wet things away.

Otto was ushered in front of the fire, still at the mercy of his nose. With each sneeze came a chorus of blessings and, if need be, another handkerchief.

“That’s a real nasty cold, huh?” Barlow commented after a particularly forceful fit. “Even I didn’t sneeze that much.”

As the day came to a close, the group all gathered on the couch, listening to the wind howling outside and treating themselves to Godric’s famous roast and sweet apple tea. Otto didn’t eat very much, but the hot tea soothed their sore throat.

“Tank you for taking such good care of be,” Otto snuffled.

Godric chuckled. “Ya care so much about us, doc. It only makes sense that we’s care an awful lot about you, ‘specially when ya aren’t feelin’ well.”

“And after you tended so well to us, may I add,” Severin said, leaning his head back.

“Yeah!” Barlow agreed, not exactly as good with words as the others, but still just as thankful.

Otto, overcome, buried their face in Godric’s side and began to cry, letting out everything that they had felt in the past few days. They wanted to stop, they wanted to explain, but it was lost in desperate sobs and hiccuping. Godric held them closer to him while the others offered quiet support until the doctor quieted.

“There ya go,” Godric said, putting a large hand on Otto’s head. “It’s gonna be alright.”

Filled with comfort and warm food, Otto quickly dozed off, and the others weren’t far behind. The only sounds were the falling of fresh snow, the crackling of the fireplace, and the snores of deep, contented sleep.

And, as winter finally settled into Harbinger Woods, they all settled down for their long winter’s rest.

******************

Not only do I want to dedicate this to @perfectpaperbluebirds , who gave me the prompt, but also @sneezytomatosquish , who has been feeling emotionally and physically under the weather lately. That may have changed by the time this fic is finished, but I shall gift it to you anyway. You are one of my favorite creators, but I want to create something for you for a change. You deserve it.

Get well soon!

[jisungsmochi]

can we dance? - mark lee

mark’s instalment of my series! i personally enjoyed writing this one a lot! 

word count: 2.3k 

series masterlist 

summary: “i know i don’t know you, but i’d like to skip the small talk and romance”

while attending his very first college party, mark has a little too much to drink and starts dancing with the random girl sitting at the bottom of the stairs. he didn’t need to know you just yet. when he pulled you close to him, you didn’t feel like you were dancing with a stranger. but rather someone who could steal your heart in a minute.

//

mark wasn’t the type to get wasted at all. but something about attending his first college party had him ecstatic. he felt a little tipsy as he roamed the halls of whichever frat house the party was held at. he couldn’t walk straight, bumping into multiple people who only shoved him away from them. he eventually took a seat at the bottom of the staircase, watching people walk in and out of the front door. he barely noticed the girl sitting right next to him.

you had your head leaning against the wall, trying to drown out the music blasting through the house. mark slowly shuffled away from you, leaving a small gap between you both. you raised your eyebrow once you felt movement next to you. you recognised his face immediately, he was the cute guy in your orientation group at the start of the semester.

“are you alright there?” you decide to spark up a conversation with the tipsy boy. mark just nodded, finding the words to say back to you, but his head was pounding.

“y-yes, i just need to sober up a bit” he giggled at himself, causing you to crack a smile at his adorable antics.

“understandable” you nod along, unsure of how to continue the conversation. the reason you remembered mark so well, was due to his constant asking of questions during the orientation. although others in your group were slightly annoyed, wanting to carry on with the campus tour, mark lee couldn’t stop his glimmering gaze of the features the campus had to offer. you found it quite endearing how he was filled with so much curiosity. but you didn’t have much courage to approach him that day, which you regretted instantly.

“you wanna dance?” mark suddenly snaps you out of your thoughts. you furrowed your eyebrows at him, watching as his smile came into view. he was adorable.

“uh i’m not much of a dancer” you shook your head, trying to deny his offer as politely as you could. but mark was stubborn, he came to have fun and he was determined to dance with the pretty girl at the bottom of the staircase.

“come on, don’t be a party pooper” he started teasing, moving closer to you, dragging you to stand up with him. as much as you wanted to remain seated, you allowed the brown haired boy, to pull you up. he let your hands linger near his shoulders, finding the physical affection quite comforting.

“okay, one dance” you held up your index finger, mark responding in a nod as he pulled you along to where everyone else was dancing. you felt nervous stepping into such a big crowd, but mark had an aura around him where you felt comfortable.

“just focus on me” he smiled widely, taking your hands in his as you both started grooving to the music. your dance moves were a little rusty, consisting of gentle swaying and some light bounces to the beat. mark on the other hand, was a very enthusiastic dancer. he was jumping up and down, screaming the lyrics from the top of his lungs, causing you to giggle. he never really let go of your hands, always finding a way back to them if you both lost contact somehow. it made your cheeks heat up quickly, but you would try and blame it on the alcohol.

suddenly, you felt mark pull you by your waist, slowly grooving to the current song that was playing. you felt your breath hitch for a split second, feeling how close he was to you. in that moment, everything stopped. all you could focus on was how gorgeous mark lee looked and how he embraced you so smoothly. as you looked into his eyes, everything felt at ease. what was happening?

mark started getting tired after the fourth or fifth song, signalling he was going to grab some water. you agreed to wait for him near the stairs again, taking some time to yourself.

“so i see you’ve met mark lee” haechan, a boy from your monday morning lecture, approached you with a mischievous smirk on his face.

“o-oh yeah, we just met” you quickly responded, unsure of how close the two boys were.

“you just met yet you were dancing all up on him? dang girl, you’re boldddd” haechan teased, lightly tapping your shoulder. you couldn’t hide how shy you were by his words,

“t-there’s nothing going on. he doesn’t even know me properly” you shook your head.

“please, i have like a sixth sense, i can sense when love is in the air” the blonde boy started babbling, slowly losing your attention.

“you’re gonna fall for him” haechan finishes, sending you a wink before moving off to chat with other party goers. what a strange guy...

“hey, how’s it going?” mark greeted you once again, taking a small sip of water.

“i’m great, kind of tired though. might head back to my dorm soon” you informed him, looking around to see if you had misplaced any of your belongings. mark wanted to stop you from leaving, but he was unsure of how to bring it up. he had just met you, he didn’t know your name, he barely knew you at all. but something inside him was telling him to stop you.

“n-no, stay” he blurred out, gently wrapped your wrist. you looked down at his hand, raising an eyebrow at his sudden actions. mark lightly coughed before slowly pulling his hand away from you.

“i-i mean, i’m tired too. i’ll walk you back to your dorm, it’s pretty dark out there” mark tried to save himself, shooting you a small grin. you couldn’t help but copy his expression, gently nodding at his offer.

“i’d like that” mark let out a sigh of relief, following your lead as you started the short walk to your dorm. you purposefully walked slower than usual, noticing how mark would try and match your pace. he truly was a saint.

“i-i just realised i didn’t quite catch your name back there” mark suddenly reminded you, making you internally face palm yourself. how did you never mention your own name?

“oh i’m y/n, and you’re mark lee” you watched as his head shot up at the mention of his name.

“h-how do you kno-“

“we were at orientation together. you were wearing a dark green hoodie and could not stop asking questions” you lightly chuckled at the memory, causing mark to reminisce on his own.

“ah, i recognise you now. you were bucket hat girl” he couldn’t stop smiling for some reason. you didn’t want to question him, but you, yourself, couldn’t contain how happy you were that he remembered you.

“i guess we both noticed eachother” you stated, a warm feeling now forming in your stomach.

“oh but tonight is just the beginning” mark smirked, moving to stand infront of you as he continued walking backwards. you were confused as to what he was doing, but you were too caught up in his words to even question it.

“the beginning of what, may i ask?” you slightly shake your head, pointing to the entrance of your dorm, signalling mark to halt in the middle of the pavement.

“not sure, but it’s definitely the start of something” he cryptically responded, walking alongside you to your dorm room. you faced mark, not wanting to say goodbye.

“i had a lot of fun tonight, mark. i actually forgot how fun parties were, the workload has really weighed me down” you started rambling, assuming he had zoned out but mark lee was stringing along to your every word.

“i totally get it. i’m not usually the type to get drunk or dance with strangers. but i’m glad i got to meet you” he avoided your gaze, feeling his cheeks start to heat up.

“did you want to come in?” you suddenly offered, causing mark to shoot his head up to face you. were you really inviting him into your room? just wait until haechan catches wind of this.

“w-would that be okay?” the clueless boy muttered, scratching the back of his head.

“yes, mark. that’s why i’m opening the door right now to let you in. so you coming or what?” you playfully teased, opening your door. mark followed your gesture, cautiously stepping into your dorm room as you closed the door behind him. your quickly turned the lights on, moving to place bag on your bed.

“your room is really cute” mark intended to whisper to himself but luckily you heard him.

“thankyou, it’s still a work in progress” you offer him a bottle of water as you both sit at the end of your bed.

“so mark, i have to ask, do you have a girlfriend?” you smirked at your own words, watching as the boy shot his eyes up at you.

“w-what? n-no i don’t, do you?” he stuttered, your eyebrows raising at him.

“i mean, do you have a boyfriend?” he repeated more calmly, taking a long sip of water.

“no i don’t” you simply respond, eyes locked on the boy at the end of your bed. the tension in the room just shifted.

“cool...that’s cool” was all he managed to say.

“you’re a weird kid, mark lee” you shake your head, laying down on your bed, feeling your eyes flutter. mark just stared at you, slowly getting up before pulling your blanket over your body. he softly patted down the bumps, making sure you were securely tucked in. you felt a smile rise to your face, mumbling a quiet, ‘thank you’ to the boy. mark just nodded, packing up his belongings before making his way to your door.

“before you go, let’s hang out tomorrow” you call out to him, watching as he turned on his feet to face you one again.

“i- yes yes. have a nice sleep” he stammered, turning the doorknob before rushing out of your dorm room in lightning speed.

‘god mark, could you be any more awkward?’

//

there was one flaw to your plan to see mark the next day, you didn’t ask for his number, nor were you in contact with his friends. you woke up to a slight headache, which luckily was relieved by taking a pain killer. you scrolled through your phone, desperately trying to find mark on any platform you could. and just like that, it was like god had sent you a message. and by god, you mean lee haechan.

haechan: mark keeps asking about you, here’s his number. thank me later by bringing me a coffee next class ;)

you hurriedly called the number, ignoring the requests from your classmate. mark picked up immediately, which came as a surprise to you.

“h-hey” he spoke first, feeling giddy you bothered to call him back.

“hey, sorry i forgot to ask for your number. my mind was just preoccupied” you started rambling, brushing through your hair as you put him on speaker.

“it’s fine really. did you want to grab some brunch?” he immediately got to the point, making you freeze momentarily.

“yeah sure” you nodded, knowing he wouldn’t be able to see you.

“cool, i’ll meet you at your dorm room, we can walk together” he offered, you heard shuffling from his side.

“thanks mark, see you soon!” before you were about to hang up, you heard a loud voice screen,

“markie is going on a date!” you instantly knew it was haechan’s. mark abruptly hung up the call, not bidding you a goodbye. you shook your head in amusement before getting ready.

as promised, mark was at your door in a prompt manner, smiling softly as you greeted him with a slight hug. mark felt stiff, but you pushed it aside, walking alongside him to the local cafe spot on campus. mark was surprisingly good at small conversation, rambling on about all sorts of things that came to his head. you couldn’t help but adore how his eyes were constantly glistening, he looked like he found beauty in almost everything. mark really wanted to impress you for this date, offering to hold your cardigan when it was getting a bit sunny and buying you ice cream while you sat on the park bench.

“how’s your hangover?” mark chuckled, mind drifting to the night before. you looked away from him slightly, feeling embarrassed.

“it’s all cured with some ice cream and great company” you cheekily commented, watching as mark’s mouth fell agape.

“i see i see” was all he managed to say back. you sat in silence for a while, admiring the scenery infront of you. you felt mark shift closer to you, arm now reaching over your shoulders. you allowed him to pull your body into his side, leaning your head on his shoulder lightly. it felt quite natural, being in mark’s presence. despite only knowing him for less than twenty four hours, you’d say you were very interested in mark lee.

“we should head back to our dorms now, i mean, unless you wanted to keep hanging out. oh god why am i so lame? i’m not even drunk? i’m just stupid. oh my god” mark started mumbling pulling his arm off your shoulder. you raised an eyebrow at the stressed boy, pulling him by his collar, before placing a gentle kiss on his lips. that surely shut him up. mark’s eyes widened at the touch of your lips on his, hands completely frozen.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, mark” you smirked, walking away from the flustered boy, who barely let out any farewell to you.

maybe mark did talk a lot of shit when he was drinking. but you left him speechless for once in his life. who would have thought one dance, would change everything.

[forsakenoathkeeper]

I Am Alive (chapter 13/?)

Chapter 13: Shattered Porcelain

Deviant!Connor[RK800] x (fem!)Reader Rated M(18+) for canon-typical violence and gore, medical procedures, and graphic sexual content

Chapters: 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • 10 • 11 • 12 • 13 • more coming soon

You can also read on AO3 & thank you for supporting me ♥

Author's notes:

There are a handful of android medical procedures in this chapter. Could be uncomfortable if you're squeamish. I'm not an expert with the lore. So, I tried to have it fit with DBH's android anatomy; but, if I'm being honest, I pretty much made this up as I went along.

Also, this chapter is super cheesy with lots of cameos.

...

...

...

The place Connor brought you to was a rundown building that looked like it was an apartment complex once upon a time. The sight left a sinking feeling in your gut, mainly because androids were living in this squabble and there was nothing you could do about it.

You followed behind Connor, who had a death grip on your hand. He was likely more afraid than you were. You placed your free hand on his shoulder to try to urge him to relax. You were ready to tell him as such; however, when you crossed the threshold into the place he called 'Haven', the words died on your tongue.

The floor was bare concrete and the walls were decades behind on a much-needed paint job. The place somehow had electricity, likely from a makeshift generator. At the least, there were some functioning lights; but, they were all covered in dust with dead bugs lining the interior fixtures.

The androids had cleared out the center to make room for the supplies Kamski had wrangled up. They were neatly organized across several crates acting as tables. As soon as you stepped in with Connor, many eyes landed on you, ranging from nervous to distrust.

Their states ranged from pristine to chipped to severely damaged, limbs missing, sauntered poorly to prevent thirium loss. Many of them had stitched together mismatched parts to try to regain some semblance of order. You couldn't imagine what that must have felt like.

You nudged at Connor's forearm until he got the message and let go of your hand. He remained close, his presence looming and protective.

Markus was quick to make himself known. "Thank you for all of this," he said, gesturing to the supplies in the center of the room. "Really I... I don't know how to properly thank you."

"I-it wasn't from me," you said, feeling nervous. "More of a messenger, really."

Your eyes swept the floor, where some androids stared at you with abandon and others were trying not to stare. You swallowed nervously, not knowing where to start, if any of them even wanted you touching them.

Some androids had already taken to the supplies and were patching each other up. Androids might have been more knowledgeable about their own anatomy than humans often were of themselves; but, not all problems were simple.

An android pushed his way through the crowd and approached you with haste.

"It's you," he said, a beaming smile on his face.

You and Connor recognized the android immediately. He had been driving a Cyberlife supply truck that was attacked by protestors. You had pulled him out of the wreckage and saved him.

"When they said a nurse was coming, I was hoping-" he cut himself off, sounding choked up and excited. "If it wasn't for you, I'd be dead," he proclaimed. His words eased the tension that had been building up inside you and left you bubbling with pride. You didn't know what to do but to smile at him.

"C-can you-" he stammered. "We have someone who's very damaged."

"I'll do my best," you replied, trying to mask how nervous you felt. You squeezed at the handle on your shoulder bag, the weight of your tools suddenly feeling much heavier.

The android ducked back into the crowd with haste.

You were shocked when he returned with another android in his arms. It was immediately obvious to you that the android was shut down. He was limp, eyes open and staring ahead blindly, LED on his temple off, a stoic expression on his face.

He was an WR600 model, still wearing his factory default uniform. However, he had a tarp wrapped around his shoulders, wearing it like a poncho.

The artificial skin on his hands and wrists had been scraped down to the android shell beneath. He had a gaping wound on his right forearm that went beyond the shell and exposed the membrane beneath. It was pulsing blue, indicating he was still functioning.

You followed them to a makeshift table, where the android set the WR600 model down carefully. As you maneuvered around to get a better look, the left side of the unconscious WR600's face came into view, and you audibly gasped.

Someone had struck him, hard, multiple times, across the face. His jaw was indented, skin scraped off to expose the pale white shell underneath. The cuts were so deep that the blue membrane beneath was exposed. Cracks split out from the gashes, like shattered porcelain.

The damage had shattered the protective sheathing on his right optical. Thirium had leaked into it, staining the entire eyeball blue. The gashes ran up into his hairline and one ran low enough to split at the corner of his lip.

You had seen androids looking far worse than this before; but, still, you never got over it.

"W-what-" you stammered, silencing yourself when you realized how pointless it was to ask.

It was obvious what had happened.

"Why is he powered off?" you asked hesitantly, looking up at the android who had carried him over to you. Your first assumption was that something was very wrong with him.

"We had to force him offline," the android replied, not looking proud of that. "He was... erratic."

You wondered if he meant the android was erratic when he heard a human was coming, or if he was always like that. Considering the damage, you wouldn't have been surprised if it was the former.

"I - uhm," you stammered nervously. "I need someone to be his guardian - to consent to this, since he can't. Are you close?"

The android looked uneasy, but also touched by your words. "He's not close to anyone."

You swallowed nervously and did your best to keep your gaze off the room and focused more heavily on the WR600. You hadn't worked on an unconscious android since before the revolution. The thought made your stomach churn.

Sensing your frustration, Connor approached you. His concerned face came into view in the corner of your eye.

'You don't have to do this,' is likely what he was going to say.

Not wanting to give him the chance, you said, boldly, "I'm okay, Connor."

He looked uneasy for a moment, LED solid yellow, as he tried to fight himself on this. You being here made him really uncomfortable; but, he knew how much this mattered to you. Part of him also knew that these androids needed this. It wasn't just for repairs, but to give them some hope that humans like you existed in this world.

When Connor stepped away, you rotated over to the powered off WR600.

"What's his name?" you asked as you set your bag down carefully and unzipped the top.

"Ralph," the android who had carried him over answered.

After pulling out some tools, you reached around the back of Ralph's ear to open his access panel. With a heave, you lifted him by the shoulder to gain access to his upper back and easily found the release for his skull.

His appearance was alarming; but, you were more concerned with the high possibility of damaged internal components.

As expected, one of Ralph's processing units was cracked. The good news is that it was a common model, and one that Kamski had supplied dozens of.

You investigated his eye next. As soon as you opened the socket, thirium leaked out and spilt all over the table. It wasn't enough to concern you, and you carefully removed his optical unit. Upon a closer inspection, you were confident it was still operational.

With a free hand, you yanked a clean container out of your bag to set the optical unit it so you could investigate the sheathing. The gold platers on the connector were still intact; but, the sheathing closest to his temple was cracked. Luckily, it could be repaired the same way you intended to repair the dents on his face.

It was less preferable than completely replacing the shell pieces; however, you didn't have access to any of those. He would have very noticeable scars. You hoped, at least, they would be more preferable to an exposed membrane.

For a moment, you set your tools down and scurried along the line of android parts until you located a box containing processors. Ralph's was easy to locate and was the first thing you replaced on him.

With that complete, you pulled more tools from your bag and a small ingot of android skin. You started with the protective sheathing around the eye before slowly, carefully filling in the cracks in his face. You did your best to match the contours of his cheek bones and jawline, suddenly feeling more like a sculptor than an engineer.

Connor tried to give you space while you worked. He was far enough away to not hover, but close enough to get to you quickly, if needed. You were too focused to notice, thankfully.

"Do you remember us?" a soft, feminine voice beckoned to him, startling him out of his trance.

Two female androids stepped into his peripheral. They were WR400 models, one with long, dark blue hair, and the other with very short, light brown, almost red hair.

Connor didn't immediately reply; but, the look in his eyes gave them his answer.

They were the Traci models who had escaped the Eden Sex Club last winter. The last time he saw them, they were running away, hands cupped tightly together. They looked much the same today, hands still tightly intertwined, the same look of adoration on their faces.

"You had a clear shot," the short haired Traci stated. "I know you did, several times; but, you let us go."

"I-" Connor stammered, finding himself at a loss of words.

Back then, he didn't understand their behavior, why he couldn't bring himself to shoot them, even when they had their backs turned, why Hank looked so impressed - proud - when he let them go. He didn't understand how they could find comfort in each other, why they were afraid of losing of each other, of not being able to hold and touch again.

He had changed since then - changed a lot, in fact.

Now, he understood.

"We're grateful," the blue haired Traci said, standing so close to her partner that their shoulders touched. "We're still together because of you."

"I didn't do anything worthy of praise," Connor said lowly, his eyes expressing the turmoil in his thoughts.

"Even if you don't think so, we know what you did," the short haired Traci declared, expression soft on her face.

"You understand, now," the blue haired android stated boldly, briefly turning around to steal a glance at you. It didn't go unnoticed, the way Connor gripped your hand when you entered the building, how he stared at you protectively while you worked.

Strangely, he didn't feel scrutinized by the two female androids. They seemed... happy for him.

He nodded silently, at a loss for what to say to them, and the two ladies departed, leaving him alone in his thoughts.

He thought about what they had endured, having to be used by strangers, by people who didn't think of them as living beings. Up until that moment, when they jumped the fence, they lived a life where they were believed unfeeling. They would return to one and other's arms to try to find solace in what consisted of their lives: play things for humans.

Connor thought about how strong they were, that they could endure that for so long.

He couldn't bear the thought-

If anyone dared tried to touch you, he would-

You were still hunched over the WR600 when Connor wretched himself from his thoughts before they wandered into territory that should probably be alone.

You had opened the android's forearms, trying to determine if any wires were damaged. Feeling inspired, Connor huffed softly and trotted over to you. You were so focused that you didn't see him coming and gasped when his hand came into view.

"G-geez, Connor," you scolded him softly, catching the sight of his freckled face in the corner of your eye.

He reached into the android's exposed wiring, his artificial, human skin, fading away. "I'll stimulate the wires so you can determine which are defective," he explained.

In the corner of his eye, Connor could see you smile. "That would help a lot. Thank you."

He sent jolts along the lines. Ones that worked properly gave a response, a very subtle twitch of the hand on the powered off android. Ones that didn't gave no response. They were not major, which meant the use of his hands wouldn't be completely severed; but, his movement would be limited, gestures abrupt or sporadic.

Sometime later, with Connor's help, you had replaced seven wires on one hand and four on the other.

You had enough material to at least cover the exposed membrane on his wrists; but, you didn't have enough to fill in gaps where the artificial human skin was lost. At the very least, you could protect the android muscle tissue.

Connor watched you fill in those wounds in silence, knowing he couldn't do much else. When that was done, you retrieved a saline wash from your bag to cleanse Ralph's eye before carefully returning it to the socket.

"Alright," you sighed, patting your hands together. "That's... all I can do for now."

A couple androids gathered around, one reaching for Ralph to prop him up. "Wow. You did all that without a replacement shell?" one of them commented, the awe in their tone making your heart flutter.

The way they admired the WR400 made you feel something sickeningly sweet. The scars on his face were noticeable; but, the fine cracks were filled in well enough to almost be seamless, unless the light hit just right. The fibrous material beneath his android skin was covered fully. His artificial human skin was mostly intact, minus his hands.

All you could hope was that he would like it. The damaged processor could cause speech issues and potential lapses in judgement; however, his behavior, as described by his fellow androids, was likely a developed trait from trauma. You knew you couldn't fix that, only hope that a new processor would aid his recovery.

Connor stepped between you and Ralph as they powered him on. You moved around Connor, trying to push him out of the way. You wanted to see him wake up, wanted to see life blossom into his hazel eyes.

It didn't blossom, per say, but he suddenly jolted forward and twitched, eyes bright and wild, suddenly very much awake. He looked around hastily, annoyance immediately appearing on his face.

"How dare you power Ralph off-!" he whined loudly, pushing against the hands that held him. They let go at his protest, but remained close as a precaution.

Suddenly, Ralph stopped, looking down at his arms. He gasped, rotated his limbs around to examine them. His hands slid over opposing arms, touching the spots you had filled as if he doubted what his optical processor was showing him. His mouth hung agape and his eyes were wide and bright.

"Ralph's hands are-" he stammered, staring at them in wonder and disbelief.

He realized, faintly, that he could see properly again out of his left eye. Ralph's dominant hand rose and he touched his face, eyes shifting away from you and staring into a random direction. He gasped when he felt the scars left behind from the work you had done.

After that, he recognized a firmware update reading on his HUD, and realized one of his processors had been replaced - the very one that he painstakingly ignored for months, his HUD constantly giving him warnings about how the unit was in imminent failure and needed to be replaced.

Suddenly, Ralph looked up and scanned the room hastily. His eyes landed on you and he froze. You were wearing scrubs and had some thirium stained on your hands. It was an obvious conclusion to come to.

"A - a human...?" he asked lowly. "No - no human would help Ralph - me... me..." he uttered, seemingly to himself. He looked down at his hands resting on his lap.

You didn't know what to say to him, if there was anything you could say that he would possibly want to hear. He seemed more confused than anything else.

"She did, Ralph," one of the androids offered softly, their hand falling onto the blonde android's shoulder cautiously.

He looked up at you again, his lips moving slightly in what appeared to be an unconscious, nervous tick. "Humans wouldn't without - without a reason," he uttered.

The android twitched when he saw your hopeful expression shift and sadness reflected in your eyes.

"R-Ralph didn't mean-" he stammered, lowering his head. His hands came up and gripped the sides of his skull, the touch a little rough, but not enough to hurt himself. "-didn't mean to be ungrateful," he choked out.

"It's okay," another android urged him gently.

Ralph avoided looking at you again. He made a movement to stand and the androids huddled around him backed up. He rose to his feet, stealing a glance at you over his shoulder before shuffling away and disappearing into the crowd. It was hard to make clear of his expression; but, to you, it looked like guilt.

You didn't blame him, or hold any contempt, not even for a second. He likely had never been shown the slightest bit of kindness in his short life.

"Thank you," one of the androids said softly, approaching with you a smile. "He may not show it, but..."

"It's okay," you replied, sincerely. "I understand."

Not long after Ralph departed, a TR400 android approached you, asking if you could examine his left eye. After popping the optical unit out and verifying it was undamaged, you noticed one of the connector pins was bent.

"I don't have a replacement connector; but, I have a soldering kit if you trust me?" you asked him. He seemed grateful that you were willing to try more so than anything else.

It took a little while, as you were slow and careful. But, it was worth it to have the optical pop back into place with a soft click and to see the android blink carefully. He looked around, iris shifting subtly in his eyeball as his vision adjusted.

"It's working now," he chirped, the corner of his eyes wrinkling with his smile.

"I'm glad," you replied softly. You meant it, really. It was always a risk to attempt to fix connectors yourself; but, you had some pride in knowing that you were usually successful.

Right as the android left, a WB200 hesitantly approached you, one hand cupped over his opposite elbow in a nervous gesture.

Before he could get too close, Connor startled you when he suddenly grabbed you by the arm and yanked you back, pulling you behind him and stepping into the space between you and the other android. He glared down at the smaller android, who put up his hands defensively.

"Con - what are you-" you squeaked, nearly tripping over your own feet as the android pulled at you.

"Please, wait, I-" the WB200 pleaded, his voice low and frightened. His hair was short and messy and he had a very boyish face that matched his voice. "I'm sorry about what I did, I - I just couldn't let you catch me."

A little annoyed, you pushed at Connor's sides and stepped around him.

"He's dangerous," Connor warned, eyes not yet moving from the other android. You gawked at the detective, recognizing the distrust in his eyes, before moving your gaze to the WB200. He looked afraid of Connor, and it became immediately obvious that they had history.

"I'm sorry - I mean it. If you caught me, I would've been sent back - and - and destroyed - I - I was scared," he insisted.

He had pushed Hank off the roof in order to escape being captured. If Connor hadn't gotten there fast enough, Hank might have fallen to his death. The android had good reason to be afraid. Connor knew that; but, if he was willing to risk a human life-

The detective was taken aback when you nudged past him and approached the android.

"What's wrong?" you asked him softly, ignoring the hole Connor was burning in the back of your head with his stare.

"I - ugh-" the android stammered, startled by your insistence and still intimidated by the detective android. His eyes flickered away from you for a second, giving Connor a worried look. "My - my right leg. I damaged it when I fell."

You stepped back and the WB200 demonstrated. He took a few steps and you could see the awkward way his leg moved. It was clearly unnatural, and shifted in a way that would have caused a human a great deal of pain. The leg also made an unpleasant creaking sound with each step, crying out in protest from the pressure.

"Lay down please," you asked, gesturing to the makeshift table Ralph had been laying on a moment ago. As he did, you explained, "I - I'm sorry, but, you'll have to undress."

"I understand," he replied lowly, struggling to meet your gaze.

He was wearing a scraggly pair of jeans, likely taken from a dumpster, and a hoodie. He peeled his pants down his legs, wearing nothing underneath. WB200's were designed for manual labor, typically farming or light maintenance. You weren't surprised to find he lacked any male anatomy.

Before you had to ask, he opened the access panel covering his knee, which allowed you to look inside at the wiring, artificial muscles and bones.

"The knee joint is out of alignment," you stated, trying to examine his knee without touching him just yet.

"May I?" you asked, holding your hands up to show what you were requesting. He nodded, lips thin and eyes not hiding how nervous he was.

You pulled back the shell loosely covering his knee to take a better look at the artificial muscle that allowed proper leg movement. He had abandoned maintaining a human skin tone on his leg; or, that function had been damaged when he fell. His skin tone ended at his waist and he was factory default white below.

You stepped away from him briefly to locate some pliars.

Connor had stepped back to give you space, but was still watching, now more so out of amazement than worry. You were absolutely fearless. It simultaneously impressed and infuriated him. You also were ignoring him fiercely.

"What's your name?" you asked the WB200 when you returned to the table.

He gave you a look, suggesting he was contemplating not answering.

"...Rupert," he eventually said, swallowing roughly afterward.

"Rupert, we don't have these parts; so, I'm gonna see if I can fix the alignment myself. We'll have to follow at the hip joint afterward to manually reset the alignment. It will likely hurt," you explained carefully.

"I'm not afraid," Rupert blurted boldly.

"That's good," you responded, reaching behind yourself to yank a chair in closer and plop down before digging into his knee.

You were so focused on the joint that you didn't hear the commotion going on around you, not until some music started playing. You paused for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden melody.

You tossed a look over your shoulder and saw that someone had arranged some pieces of equipment to fashion together a radio. "That'll liven the place up," one of the androids proclaimed proudly, admiring her work proudly.

Once, it might have been a funny thought to imagine androids enjoying music. Hearing their excitement over the piano, bass, and gentle drum brought a smile to your face. It was jazz, soft and relaxing, with no vocals. Something so subtle so drastically changed the atmosphere in the room.

"Okay. I think I got the joint back in place," you declared, standing up and smacking the sheathing back into place. Rupert had been hyper focused on you the entire; when you shifted your gaze from his knee to his face, he looked more relaxed than when you had started.

"Can you open your hip?" you requested, standing at his waist. He nodded, lifting his hoodie to his ribs. His skin faded whilst the panel opened. Manual joint alignments required calibrations at the base for most models. Few could do it automatically. Rupert unfortunately was not one of those models.

"Ready?" you asked, gently pushing back the fibrous, artificial muscle to reach the joint panel.

"Yes," he replied immediately.

You pinched the reset key. His leg twitched and Rupert let out a bizarre, staticky sound, clearly one of pain. The alignment seemed to go off fine; but, his power conductors were likely not state of the art, as expected for his model type. The power traveled from his chassis to the joint and gave you a little shock.

You yelped and let go, stepping back. Rupert looked at you, eyes wide with fear..

"Just a little shock," you explained quickly, trying to relax him. "It's normal."

He relaxed and moved his leg around a little. "Wow," he wheezed. "Feels better - much better." With haste, the android pulled his clothes back on and shimmied off the table and onto his feet to test the alignment. He seemed excited as he bounced around on his heels.

"I - thank you - thank you," he stammered out nervously.

You nodded at him with a smile. "Of course, Rupert."

You turned away from him to set your tools back into their proper positions, just so you wouldn't lose them later. As you did, you heard him give Connor parting words.

"I am sorry - I mean it," he said quietly. If the detective android replied, you didn't hear what he said.

Connor was faintly aware of the high possibility that you were irritated with him in that moment; however, that didn't stop him from approaching you and offering a water bottle, bringing it into your peripheral.

You had forgotten that he took the time to pack a backpack with water and food for you. You were prepared to come here with nothing; but, the android had taken the extra step to make sure you had something.

He really made it impossible to be mad at him for two seconds-

"You should take a break," he suggested softly as you chugged the water enthusiastically. You hadn't realized how thirsty you were until that moment. Leave it to Connor to be more attentive to your needs than you.

"I'm fine," you gently retorted.

"You've been going nonstop for almost four hours," Connor insisted.

"I'm fine," you said again, a little firmer than last time.

His hand fell onto your shoulder. "Please?" he requested. Connor stepped around, right in front of you, and offered his hand in a gesture that you recognized, but you had never seen directed at yourself.

Judging by the look on your face, you definitely didn't expect that from the android in that moment. You gawked at him stupidly and Connor looked back hopefully.

The music was quite fitting for that, but, still, you felt nervous.

"I-" you cut yourself off, looking conflicted.

"Am I in the doghouse?" he asked softly, almost uncertain.

Connor couldn't help but crack a grin at the way your eyes lit up and your lips twisted into a smile. You choked on a bubbly laugh at his tease.

"No," you huffed, delivering a gentle smack to his shoulder. "I just - 'm not graceful, at all, and never really..."

You took his hand anyway and the android cupped it and placed his other hand on your waist, pulling you in gently. He took note of the faint blush on your cheeks, blissfully aware that he really liked that look on you.

"I didn't know you liked to dance," you offered quietly as your free hand fell onto his shoulder.

It wasn't so much of a dance as it was two bodies swaying to a melody. But, you were close, close enough that your torso was touching his chassis, and it felt nice, comforting. You didn't really move, but more so followed the sway Connor had set.

"I don't know if I do," Connor said honestly. "I just wanted to, with you."

As always, Connor was full of surprises. Sometimes, you had to scold yourself for thinking that you knew everything about him, only for him to go and prove you very, very wrong.

"I like the music," he added on.

"Yeah," you agreed, breathlessly.

You liked the music. That much was true; but, it was hard to think straight when Connor was so close and looking at you like that.

-like you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

-like nothing else in this world mattered.

His hand, that had been on your waist, shifted around so that his forearm cupped your lower back. He dipped you back, gently forcing you to arch, and you let out a surprised sound. When he pulled you back up, he looked way too proud for forcing that noise out of you.

"Brat," you huffed against his neck. You were glad he didn't apologize, because he didn't look sorry at all.

You lost track of how long you did that. The world seemed to dissipate in that moment. You weren't in an abandoned apartment complex on the industrial side of town, surrounded by damaged androids.

But, then, Connor leaned down slowly, a gesture you were quite familiar with. He gave you a second to protest or turn away. When you didn't, he carefully slotted his mouth over yours, and you suddenly, very fiercely remembered where you were. Yet, that knowledge didn't stop your eyes from fluttering shut or your heart from hammering away in your chest. If anything, it amplified it.

It was a suave kiss, almost chaste. Still, he had done it in front of all these androids. When you parted and looked up at him, his eyes met yours and they said, 'I just had to'. You couldn't bring yourself to be upset with him, or to care that half of the room was staring.

Some part of his software, that he didn't realize existed, wanted them all to know.

You were his, and he was yours.

Human.

Android.

It didn't matter. You were two living beings, and you were fucking happy, and that was all that mattered.

But, then, a sharp gasp rang out through the crowd and the radio was abruptly shut off. Connor turned his eyes to the source of the sound and realized an android had staggered back and tripped, now on their back on the ground and trying to scurry away. You tried to look over his shoulder to see what the fuss was all about.

"Markus," a masculine voice called out in despair. "How could you let them in here?"

The detective android narrowed his eyes.

It was Robert, a gun in his trembling hand.

[hwaddict]

Melting Point (m)

genre: f2L au, Smut, Fluff 

pairing: Song Mingi x Reader

wc: 2.5k

summary: Your spending habits may need work but the one time you're thankful for them because it let you getting to spend some time to get to know your cute neighbor. 

warnings: dom!mingi, sub!reader, unprotected sex, fingering, subtle size kink, oral (fem receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, praise, creampie. 

note: I wrote this yesterday in one sitting and its my first time writing smut but its easily my favorite piece I’ve written and i’m super proud of it. So let me know what you think and enjoy! 

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

Having expensive taste as a broke college student makes your time about ten times worse than it needs to be. Your dad always warned you about your spending habits and how if you kept spending money like you did in high school “perfecting your wardrobe” then you wouldn’t have any extra money in college. Long story short, he was completely right. 

So that’s how you find yourself grating string cheese on a Monday night after a long day of school. Every instinct inside of you wanted to just take the easy way out and just order pizza but you had no money, and no string cheese. 

“Why do we never have any string cheese in this damn apartment?” You complain to your roommate of three years named Amelia who’s scanning through the tv trying to find something to wind down. 

 “Probably because you spend your money on pointless stuff like stuffed animals you don’t need.” she shoots back at you.

“Don’t talk that way about Henry.” You say with sarcasm in your voice because you feel completely and absolutely ridiculous in this moment. And even if it kills you, she’s right. You really didn’t need another stuffed animal but you bought it anyway. 

Frustrated with grating string cheese, you finally drop the grater on the counter and decide to take a breather outside. And to make sure you displayed your frustration, you just had to slam the door and make a tiny scene. 

After about a minute of admiring the sunset standing over the balcony railing in the hallway of your dorm building, a deep but soothing voice startles you back to reality. 

“That was a serious door slam, Are you feeling ok?” Your neighbor, Mingi said while ascending up the stairs carrying groceries. 

Mingi, the tall but sweet boy who lived on the same floor as you who you’ve seen a few times while coming and going to school but never really got to know. You always had a tiny crush on him because he was just amazingly good looking and had a genuine heart for others. 

“Yeah I’m fine, I’m just frustrated again with myself, nothing new.” You let out with a sigh while rubbing your face with your hands. 

“Would it help you to calm down if you talked with me?” He said and shifted the weight of his paper grocery bag in his hands to get out his keys from his pocket. 

“Sure. I just can’t be in my room right now or else I’m gonna yell at my roommate and I don’t want to deal with that tonight too.” You say as he follows you into his apartment. 

“So what’s going on y/n?” 

“Honestly I don’t know. I guess I’m just frustrated with the choices I’ve made with money. Like today, if I hadn’t spent my money on a useless stuffed animal, then I would be able to get pizza for dinner instead of making my own.” 

“Well homemade pizza doesn’t sound too bad.” Mingi tries to reassure you while he finishes putting away his groceries. 

“It doesn’t sound too bad until you’re wasting your time grating string cheese.” 

“Oh yeah, I can see how that’s frustrating.” Mingi says with a chuckle imagining your cute little face getting annoyed with something he could’ve helped you with. 

You never would know because of how convinced you are that nobody likes you but Mingi actually did. He’s tried displaying it to you a few times now with helping you carry things up the stairs when you moved in and when you had a party and needed someone to take out the trash for you. Even now, Mingi made a mental note to always keep a spare bag of string cheese in case you needed some. Mingi liked you but you couldn’t get it through your skull that anyone could feel that way towards you. 

“Next time you need something, you know you can always come knock on my door and I might be able to help.” He said while sitting down on the couch and patting the spot next to him, signaling you to sit down. “And even if I can’t, I’ll still try my best.” 

“Well thank you Mingi, I appreciate it greatly.” You say as you sit down next to him. 

“Do you wanna watch a movie?” He asks you as his face lights up in a childlike manner. 

“Sure! What do we got?” 

“Well there’s The Incredibles, Spiderman, The Emperor’s New Groove, and 10 things I hate about you which is always a classic” You can easily tell that he wants you to pick the last one just by how his tone changed so you decide on the last one which results in a smile from him. 

There was always a natural chemistry between you and Mingi. You guys were fast friends and the fact that you had a crush on him just made getting to know him that much easier.  So when about an hour and a half into the movie you notice that you’ve relaxed into mingi’s tall and muscular frame and that his arm is draped around your shoulder, you just go along with it. But you can’t help but think that maybe he likes you? It would make sense as to why he’s been so nice to you ever since you moved in. And you don’t see it but he’s internally freaking out that you’re ok with what he’s doing and acting like a complete dork. 

After you finished the movie, you tried to stand up but mingi playfully held back your shoulders so you couldn’t get out of his reach leading to a sigh of slight annoyance coming from you. He then tries to get up and you trip him by hooking his ankle with your foot resulting with him landing right over you, arms caging your head and his legs on both sides of yours in an attempt to not crush you. Astounded, the both of you just lay there not saying anything but admiring. You admiring his facial features and how his hair is the perfect amount of messy and him admiring your beautiful eyes, plump lips, and the way your body fits perfectly underneath him. Finally the silence is broken when he mutters In his low voice, “I really want to kiss you.”

“Then go for it.” You say with newfound confidence. 

His lips passionately crash down onto yours and you kiss him back trying to match his energy as his hand that isn’t supporting him starts to roam down the side of your body to squeeze at your hip as he grinds his hips down onto yours allowing a slight moan to escape from your lips. That same hand snakes it way back up and stops at your chest to cup and slightly squeeze your breast making you gasp in pleasure. He pulls up from the kiss so that your foreheads are resting on each other’s. The sounds of both of your heavy breathing filling the room until Mingi says something.

“Now I’m not going to do anything you’re not comfortable with, but if you’re ok with it, i’d really like to continue this in my room.” You nod your head furiously, head clouded with lust and desire because you don’t want anything more right now. 

“Babygirl I need to hear you.” He says making you want to take you right then and there

“Y-yes please.” And within a matter of seconds he’s picked you up, a hand supporting your neck and the other grabbing your ass to hold you up as you wrap your legs around his torso. He carries you to his room before removing his hand from the back of your neck to open the door for a split second and once you’re in the room, he lays you down so he’s on top of you and starts kissing you as if he needs it to survive. 

Your hands fly to his chest to remove his shirt from his long and chiseled torso and you throw it somewhere and bring your hands back to scratch down the front of his chest. Only to find yourself with your hands over your head as Mingi pins them above you with his hand. He grinds down onto your clothed entrance with a grunt coming from him and you can practically feel him and you can’t help but confirm that he’s big. 

He takes your shirt off and kisses down your neck while sucking and biting on a spot that makes you go weak, leaving a bruise that starts to wind a coil in your stomach. He releases your hands to let himself be able to touch down your body which involves taking off your bra in one motion which makes you wonder how he did that but it’s a question for another time. He squeezes your right breast and his mouth attaches to your left nipple and swirls his tongue around it making your back arch in pleasure and pushing yourself against him in search of much needed friction. 

“God Mingi you make me feel so good.” You let slip out of your mouth with a couple other lewd sounds, fueling him to continue. He kisses down your stomach and stops when he gets to your pants button. You look down at him to watch as he undoes the button and unzips your pants, bringing them down your legs and throwing them to the side. He tugs you by your legs to bring you down to the edge of the bed so he has more access to you and looks at you with a surprised face and mutters “So wet for me already, huh princess?” Only leaving you to release a slight moan and be even more turned on and ready for more. 

He slowly strips the wet panties from your lower half and stuffs them in his back pocket almost as a way of saying you’re his. A slight feeling of insecurity washes over you as he’s left staring at you, vulnerable and on display just for him resulting to you bringing your legs together. He pushes your knees apart and says “You’re beautiful babygirl, no need to hide from me.” And before you know it, he’s licking a stripe from your drenched pussy to your clit and you’re a moaning mess, hands flying down to his hair and slightly tugging at it as his lips land over your clit and start to suck on it. You let out a moan after trying to hold it in as he makes an incoherent noise, letting the vibrations go directly to your clit and filling you with pleasure. He brings his hand to your core to play with your folds and you bring a hand to your mouth to muffle your moaning. Mingi releases from your clit for a second only to say “Let me hear you baby, you sound so beautiful moaning for me.” And he goes directly back to business, his hands roaming your entrance, teasing you relentlessly. He makes eye contact with you to see how fucked out you are at his doing as he inserts a finger into your pussy, pumping at an almost unbelievable speed. Which leaves you with your eyes rolling to the back of your head, only fueling his ego as he watches you. 

You start to clench around him, almost unconsciously signaling him for more when he mentions, “Damn babygirl, so needy for me already.” He inserts another finger into your core, already able to reach the sweet spot. He starts pumping into you faster, leaving you a pleasure filled mess as he curls his fingers to destroy the spot that makes you see stars and uses his other hand to rub furiously on your clit. 

“Oh god Mingi I’m gonna cum!” You yell as pleasure rips through you for the first time tonight. Your vision goes white and your back arches from the immense amount of pleasure. Mingi removes his fingers from your lower region and licks them clean before undoing his belt. He takes off his pants and underwear, exposing himself and his thick, massive cock. He catches you admiring him and playfully asks, “Like what you see?” Which leaves you both smirking. He grabs your hips and flips you over onto your stomach and brings you up to your hands and knees. He pumps himself a few times before lining himself up with your entrance and slowly pushing himself in, allowing you to adjust to his size. 

“Oh my god Mingi.” You moan while wincing as you try to relax so you can adjust. 

“God you’re so tight, and just for me.” He says, turning you on even more which you didn’t even know was possible. After taking some time to adjust, he starts to move back and forth, making you almost scream out in pleasure from how good he feels. You feel a sudden smack on your ass, lurching you forward as mingi pulls you back in, reaching your g-spot and making you moan his name. “Ahh Fuck Mingi right there.” you say as he begins to thrust faster in your hot, wet flesh. The sounds of skin slapping, loud moans, and needy incoherent whimpers fill the room as he mercilessly fucks you from behind. 

After minutes have passed and you feel yourself coming closer to your high and you clench around him as a signal that you’re close. His hand flies to your clit to rub circles into your bundle of nerves furiously. You arch your back out of pleasure and the new angle allows him to go deeper into your drenched pussy. He grabs you by the hair to pull your back against his chest, the action sending you over the edge in overstimulation as he continues to pound into you through your release. 

“Thats its baby, come all over my cock.” He twitches in you and his thrusts get sloppy and you clench on him again, sending him straight into his release. His fluids painting your walls and combining your release with his as it drips down onto his sheets. 

“You did so well babygirl” He says as he flips you over onto your back after gently pulling out of you. He buries his head in your neck and lets his body fall limp over yours. The two of you left there panting while you bring your hand up to stroke his hair and he massages your sides, hands smoothing over your hip and back up to your waist. Both of you just basking in the romantic atmosphere and enjoying each other’s company. After what feels like an eternity, Mingi gets up to grab a wet towel from the bathroom. He comes back and gently wipes you down to clean you from your releases and brings his lips to passionately kiss you with a smile on his face and leaves to start a shower so you can clean your body. 

Your mind goes blank and all you can think is, “This man is going to be the death of me.” 

[hypnoticwinter]

Down the Rabbit Hole part 18

My eyes flutter open and for a moment I lay there, not comprehending what I’m seeing. There’s a window ahead of me, and the blinds have fallen down halfway, and a ray of sunlight is stabbing at me slyly through them. The air is soft and cool and comfortable and carries the same familiar stench of acrylic paint, and when I put my hand down to my side and feel at the blanket covering me it’s a scratchy, rough, worn one that I know very, very well.

Then I bolt out of bed and dart over to the window and rip it open, stick my head outside and stare. The bright blue sky leers down at me, and when I crane my neck and look down the side of the building I can see the street signs, one canted at a crazy angle like it’s always been. Corner of Franklin and White, Corpus Christi, Texas. I look back in the room; it’s empty. Queen bed. The other side is made up still and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

After a long, long while I go back in and close the window, pad over to the dresser and take one of the oversized flannels out and shrug into it, leave everything else bare. It nearly comes down to my knees anyway, I’ll be warm enough in just this.

I end up sitting in the overstuffed armchair in the living room staring at the dull blank slate of the ancient cathode-ray TV that’s been squatting decrepit in the corner for at least the last four years. In the screen my distorted image glowers back at me.

Either this is a dream, or the Pit is.

I’ve been pushing and prodding at the conclusion like a toothache for the last half an hour or so, my legs tucked up under me to try and keep warm, but I can’t see any other way I would have gotten here. Not realistically, anyway.

I keep thinking about what Peter told me, about the dreams he’d had, and wonder. Then, fifteen minutes later, when I don’t see any sign of waking and I’ve pinched at myself enough to cause bruises, I conclude that I’ll wake later.

Or maybe I am awake, and the Pit was a dream. But why do I shy away from that so heavily? It’d be a neat get-out-of-jail-free card, wouldn’t it?

Maybe it’s because if it was a dream I would have woken up in my own bed in my own apartment. Wouldn’t I have? I can’t imagine a series of circumstances that would have lead me back to –

A shadow passes the window, blotting out the light, and then moves past. Something about it gives the impression of stateliness, of a slow lumbering bulk. The light is different in its wake and I can feel a twinge in my stomach as I look over. The curtains in here are drawn and I cannot see out but the color of the light is wrong, there’s something off about it. It is, I realize belatedly, the wrong shade. I’d just woken up and the light was blue and hard and sharp but now it’s dull and orange and aggressive, the color of a Florida sunset.

Something inside myself screams at me not to, but I get up, feeling suddenly vulnerable, standing there naked except for the flannel. I go to the window and reach out to open the blinds. My hand is shaking, I notice, and my lip curls. Then without giving myself time to hesitate I fling them open and stand there gawping at the roiling mountains of ropy, sinuous flesh outside. The sun is struggling through a gasping red haze in the air and all of a sudden I can smell it, I can taste it on my tongue, that meaty umami Pit smell, so dank and organic I can feel it coating the back of my throat. I gag and paw at myself and my hands come back with an oily sheen.

Outside the world is like someone threw a fleshy sheet over everything. I can see apartment buildings and skyscrapers downtown prodding through but they’re wrapped in it, great twisted whorls of flesh, rivers of mucus and slime and blood, weeping sores, trees crackled and half-bent beneath fatty folds. I can see things moving, far off, indistinct crustacean things lurking in the dark beneath the shadows of the coated buildings. I can hear screams.

My heart is pounding and then after a moment I realize that it’s the door, that someone’s at the door, hammering at it, and then Thor calls out and I stop, everything stops.

I haven’t heard his voice in so long and part of me aches at its touch, like the sound were made of heated steel.

I go to the door cautiously and look out through the peephole; I can see the rivulets of flesh running along the hallway, and in fact they are so thick that it might as well have been straight out of the Pit. Only a few errant little patches where the ugly floral wallpaper peeks through give any indication that the room is inside of an apartment block.

Whatever anger I might have expected to feel when I see Thor isn’t there inside of me when I reach for it. He just makes me sad now. Especially like this, looking around anxiously, watching his back. I throw the latch and open the door and he jumps a little, and I am devouring him with my eyes, sweeping him from head to toe. Massive slab-like chest heaving, beard and cheeks rugged, eyes dark and stormy. Christ, I shouldn’t have opened the door, why the hell did I –

Thor sweeps me into his arms just like he always does, and I melt just like I always do. He holds me there, feet a solid six inches off the ground, just staring into my eyes, and I’m halfway towards slapping him, halfway towards yelling at him to put me down, that he doesn’t have any right to just act like nothing’s changed, when he kisses me, and the rest of my willpower flutters out of my body.

Then inside of my mouth his tongue splits apart into multiple individual entities with scuttling legs and chitinous carapaces that wriggle around and then force themselves down my throat, and I can feel them all the way down. Though I try to struggle he crushes me to his chest and I can feel it break apart like his ribs were toothpicks and he stuffs me inside of himself, my arms and legs bending backwards until they snap, but I can’t feel it, all I can feel is the raw abraded stump of his tongue writhing deeper and deeper inside of my mouth, and I’m screaming but I can’t breathe, all I can do is make wet moaning shrieks while I stare into his eyes, watch his pupils pop and multiply like frog eggs, his head having followed me somehow inside of his chest, and –

“Roan!”

Something slaps me across the face and I sit bolt upright and smack my head on the upper retaining bar of the tent. I open my mouth to scream again but then I realize that I’m staring into Elena’s wide-eyed, worried face, and I can’t do anything but burst into tears. “God,” I keep muttering, hiding my face in her shoulder as she pats my back softly and murmurs against the side of my head that it’s okay, that it was just a bad dream.

Someone outside rattles on the tent bars. “What the fuck is going on in there?” the Sergeant barks, and I feel Elena stiffen next to me.

“Roan had a nightmare, Sarge, that’s all,” she calls back. “We’re fine.”

“Well,” he says, his voice taking on a horribly cutting tone, “tell Merriweather there to keep it down. The rest of us are trying to sleep.”

Something about the way he spits the name makes me shudder, even if it isn’t my real name. Elena feels it and holds me tighter, and I lean my head up and kiss her on the neck. “Don’t worry about him,” she tells me when we break apart. “His bark’s worse than his bite.”

“I just don’t like yelling,” I tell her, inwardly cringing at how infantile it must sound. “I’ve never liked men who yell.”

“Well,” Elena laughs, “I think you might be on the wrong team for that.”

“Yeah,” I groan, flopping back onto the sleeping bag. I still feel a little nauseous; I keep running my tongue over the inside of my mouth, cringing at the way it felt in the dream. It had seemed so real…

“Can I ask you something?”

I flick my eyes over at Elena just as she darts her gaze away from mine, pretends to busy herself with smoothing out the little compressible camp pillow at the head of her sleeping bag. “Yeah.”

“Who’s Thor?”

“Fuck,” I blurt as soon as the name passes her lips. “Don’t tell me I said –“

“You were yelling it,” she tells me. “And then you were doing this weird thing with your tongue like you were choking –“

“Oh my god,” I groan, putting my head in my hands. Elena reaches over and runs her hand along my back.

“Hey, stop,” she says. “I want to help.”

I think about that for a while, trying to loosen my tongue and just tell her, dammit, if she hated you she wouldn’t act this way, but something in me revolts at it, and it isn’t until she leans over and digs my face out from my earthen palms and kisses me, very seriously, that I relent. She starts to say something and from the look on her face I can tell that she thinks there must be some sort of damage, there must be some sort of…I don’t know, underlying pain, and it’s that look that snaps me out of it, that sets a curl to my lip that I quickly banish.

“Thor,” I tell her, “is the name of my ex-boyfriend.”

“Oh.”

“It’s not like that,” I say quickly. “I dreamed – It doesn’t matter what I dreamed. It wasn’t a sex dream or anything like that, it –“

Elena is laughing too hard for me to go on. I can feel myself blushing and I set my mouth very harshly and roll over, but she feels me moving and holds me tighter so I can’t. “I wasn’t laughing at you,” she explains. “I wouldn’t care if it had been. I just thought it was so funny that that’s what you were concerned about, that you were worried that I would, I don’t know, be jealous that you even have an ex-boyfriend.”

I think about that for a while. “I guess I still don’t know what to think of you,” I tell her. I lean my head into hers and touch her nose with mine; I feel it scrunch up as she smiles at me. “I don’t have a name for the way you make me feel.”

“In a good way or a bad way?”

“In a hopeful way.”

She grunts affirmation, kisses me again, a quick peck that traces down my neck and my bare chest and settles on one nipple.

“Then let me make you feel good,” she breathes, and then her hand is working along my thigh to the moist cleft between my legs, and I feel my heart do a funny little throb in my chest. I reach down and stop her, bring her hand back up to clasp around my back. She looks up from my breast, shoots me a confused glance.

“If we’re going to be serious about this,” I tell her, stomping down on the little voice in the back of my head going but what if, “I want this to be based on something more than just sex. Because sex is great and you are very good at it,” I tell her, trying not to grin too widely, “but I want to – I want to fall in love with you, not your fingers and your tongue and your pussy.” I wince at her. “Okay, that might have sounded better in my head, but –“

“I know what you mean,” she tells me. “And I think that’s very, very sweet of you.”

We lay there in silence like that for a while. I run my fingers through her close-cropped mop of blonde hair. Eventually I just ask her, and brace myself for the response. “What do you want this to be?” I say, and she turns her face up to me. “If you want this just to be sex I’m okay with that but – but we should know what it’s going to be, we should –“

“I haven’t been in a real relationship in about three years,” she tells me, settling her head back down onto my chest. “Not because my last one was particularly bad or anything, but because for the last three years I’ve been on this team and I knew how bad of an idea getting involved with any of them would be. Yeah, there’s been some sex. There’s been some brief emotions involved here and there.” I feel her lips draw back as she laughs at herself. “But I knew that anything definite would have torn this team apart because I was the only woman on it, so I’ve played the cold bitch for a long time.”

“I don’t think you’re like that,” I say reflexively, and she laughs.

“I know I’m not. But if you play a role like that for long enough you find it hard to stop.”

“So what –“

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been with a woman,” she says, flicking her eyes down to my breasts. “I’ve been with more men than women but sometimes you just run into…into someone special. That makes you go, ‘god, women are just so…” she makes a little growly grunting noise in her throat and I laugh. “You know?”

“God,” I groan. “I actually think I know what you mean. I always thought I might be bi, but aside from one time in college when I made out with a girl at a party –“

Elena slaps me very lightly across the cheek and I squeak in surprise.

“I thought you told me I was your first!” she cries in mock outrage, and then when I try to explain she laughs and starts tickling me and the situation devolves from there, and then when we’re done and I’ve stopped shuddering I look at her, still hunkered over me, and reach down and slap her face lightly.

“I thought I said I wanted this to be based on something other than sex,” I tell her, and she laughs, still a little out of breath, and collapses onto her mattress next to mine.

“Then you shouldn’t have sucked on my nipple so much.”

“Uh, you started this.”

“Nope, I was just tickling you. You’re the one who went there.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Tell me about Thor,” she says, and I look over at her.

“This is really what you want to talk about?” I ask, and she nods.

“Yeah,” she says, reaching for me. I settle my leg above her hip and she puts a hand on my ass. “I want to get to know you better.”

“Bit of an odd place to start,” I grumble, and she laughs.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

I think about Thor. It’s a little like poking a sore on the inside of my mouth, one I’m hyperaware of but have been trying to avoid.

“Well, his real name wasn’t Thor. It’s Richard, but everyone called him Thor because he looked the part, you know. Big muscles, beard, long hair, everything. We met in college. Well, actually, I was in college but he was bartending at this pub I’d go after class most nights. Then I ended up interviewing him for the college paper I was writing for cause, Christ, what was it? Right, because he was an eyewitness for an armed robbery at the liquor store down the road. We sat down for a couple of hours in the bar on his day off and did way more flirting than interviewing and then after that he asked me if I wanted to go out with him sometime and I was already smitten by then so of course I said yes. The rest’s history.”

“He sounds nice.”

I open my mouth, then close it again while I try to think of an adequate way to respond to that. “Yeah,” I say finally. “He could be nice.”

“How long were you two together?”

“Six years.”

“Damn. And you never got married?”

I laugh. “No. I was too scared of the commitment. And Thor – I don’t think he really wanted to get married. We talked about it sometimes, in the abstract, about getting married and having a kid and all of that shit, but I don’t think either of our hearts were really into it.”

“Do you think that was because of who you are or because of your relationship?”

“What do you mean exactly?”

“Like, do you personally want kids? Or to get married? Not necessarily to him but just in general.”

“I don’t think I do. I’d be too scared I’d fuck it up. Like, both, I mean. I’d fuck up a marriage and I’d fuck up a kid.”

“I don’t think you would,” Elena tells me, and I smile at her.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I know you don’t believe me,” she says, rolling her eyes. “But I really don’t think you would.”

I gather her tighter to me and leave a kiss on her forehead, and then from somewhere against my chest she asks me what ended up happening between me and Thor, how the relationship ended, and I sigh to think about it. “What was your last relationship like?” I ask her. She shrugs.

“Fine. Lasted about a year. Sex was good but I didn’t love him.”

“And he loved you?”

“Yeah,” she laughs. “It’s an old story.”

“The oldest,” I agree. “Well, me and Thor, I think we did love each other, but if you’re with someone for six years you end up hating them, all of the stupid little things that they do that they never change, you start seeing the bad more than the good, and I don’t think we loved each other enough to stick with it through that. We didn’t handle it well, though, we both wanted to make it work so we’d get in these huge screaming fights over really stupid shit and then we’d break up furious with each other and we’d resolve not to see each other again, we’d go meet other people, and then when they hurt us we’d come back. We always did. There’s something about that familiarity, about knowing someone so well that you can always come back to them when you’re hurt, that would glue us back together for another month or two, and then we’d get in a fight again. Rinse and repeat.”

“It sounds awful.”

“It’s something you grow into. Then he ended up getting HIV from someone he’d fucked and giving it to me, and now I’m here. I was furious at him. Aside from when I called him and screamed at him when I got the test results I haven’t talked to him since.”

Elena is quiet for a long while. “I’m sorry,” she offers finally.

“It’s okay. Both of our faults, really. With that kind of lifestyle we both probably should have been getting tested for things like that more often than we were. It was just this great big self-destructive spiral and you don’t…you don’t have the energy or the willpower to change it until it chews you up and spits you out.”

“Well…” she says, looking up at me. “What’s the next step? You’ve got to keep moving forward.”

“I don’t know,” I tell her. “I haven’t gotten that far yet. I think right now I’m focusing on just…existing by myself. Six years is a long time. I have to figure out what I think of myself again.” Then I realize how that must sound and I start to backtrack. “I mean – you’re…you weren’t part of the plan, but I don’t mind rethinking –“

“Roan,” Elena laughs, reaching up for me and tugging me back down against her, “you overthink everything, don’t you?”

I settle against her, let the tension flow out of me. It takes a moment but I’m able to do it, let myself relax. “Maybe,” I grumble, and she laughs again, rich and throaty.

“Why don’t we just let things go however they go?” she suggests. “Don’t worry about anything definite, don’t worry about stupid fucking labels, let’s just get through the expedition and then see how we feel about each other after?”

“I like labels,” I say in a small voice. “I don’t like feeling uncertain.”

“You feel uncertain about me?”

“Not really,” I admit. “I’m just afraid that –“

“Then shh. Save it.”

“But –“

“Roan, it’s three in the morning,” she says, gently admonishing, and I start.

“Wait, really? I thought it was way later –“

“Well, it’s not. Now, you want to hold me so we can both go back to sleep? Tomorrow’s going to suck if we stay up much later.”

And with that she nestles her head against me and closes her eyes and it is very simple for me to just lay there and breathe, feeling her hands gripping my back slowly grow more and more limp, and then I manage to fall asleep as well, despite her soft whispery snores in my ear.

 * * *

 The morning is relatively quick. We wake at seven or eight or so – I left my wristwatch back in the barracks so I don’t have access to an accurate measurement of time, and trying to work the geriatric software in the wristpad is a little beyond my sleep-addled brain. I feel relatively well-rested; waking up at three certainly didn’t do me or Elena any favors but she offers me a caffeine pill and I take it gratefully, and once it kicks in later during our leisurely MRE breakfast I do feel a little more alert.

The mood is more cheerful than I’d expected. It feels for all the world like we’re just on a camping trip. If anyone is feeling anxious about having to go deal with the copepods they’re doing a very good job of not showing it. I take a couple of candid shots while we’re sitting around the communal stove – Crookshank gesticulating, big grin on his face, telling a story to Slate, who’s lazing back on his elbows, MRE tray resting on his chest; the Sergeant sitting cross-armed and alone but eyes cut to the left, listening to the story as well; Fumi and Ellis in the middle of trading their cheese spread packets; Peter grinning at me and waving from across the circle; Euler rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

It all feels very distant from yesterday, but maybe it’s because I’ve done so much since. Even the shamble seems like it was a whole month ago at least, it doesn’t seem real. And I can even manage to look Crookshank in the eyes; after last night I didn’t think I’d ever be able to, but when our gazes accidentally meet we offer perfunctory smiles to each other and then carry on as though nothing had happened, although perhaps for him that’s less surprising than it is for me.

Altogether too quickly breakfast is over and then we’re on the move again. The next couple of hours take us to the terminus of the Organ Trail, a vast bowl-like depression of flesh that Elena informs me was once a bile bladder of some kind, and then we take a left and go through a man-made channel bored through the flesh of the Pit. I stare at the ceiling, wondering at it, at the scarified criss-cross of the retaining plates and stents. Everything looks very old here, and for a while I’m concerned, wondering if it’ll come crashing down on top of us, but it stays very still and strong and resolute throughout our passage, even when Joker’s clanging footsteps resound off the metal walkway and put an unhealthy shudder to the entire enclosed path.

I look back at Joker today less than I did yesterday. I haven’t observed any more episodes like in the gondola ride down, and so I’ve gradually begun to let my guard down around the machine. Not like keeping my guard up would do anything; if it did decide to go crazy and kill all of us I don’t think there’d really be anything we could do about it. Maybe if someone nailed it with one of the big forty-millimeter slug rifles that about half the team carry, that might put it down.

I’ve been around guns before, even shot some, but the slug rifles are in another league entirely. They are without a doubt the biggest guns I’ve ever seen, and the slugs they fire are so large that my mind doesn’t even register them as bullets, more like big cartoony grenades, like something you’d throw.

My own little pistol weighs heavily on my hip. Even though I qualified, I flinched too heavily whenever I pulled the trigger, and though I hit those shots, if I were in a pinch? If I had to? I don’t think I could do it again.

It makes me feel nervous, holding a gun again. I feel hyper-aware of it, like a part of my mind is just staring down at the matte black grip of it, prodding out of the holster.

A little nine millimeter pistol isn’t going to be helpful against anything that’s really determined to hurt me down here anyway. And there’s no way in hell I could handle one of those forty-millimeter guns. They wouldn’t even let me even try to fire one at the range, even braced, because there was a decent chance it’d dislocate my shoulder. What I could use is something like a bowie knife, but I guess they didn’t think about that very much. Everyone else has one, or at least a similarly large knife, hanging off of their belts, but they didn’t issue me one. Maybe that’s what I should be concerned about, that I didn’t get my standard-issue ranger knife.

Lots to think about, stamping along there in the back with Elena and Euler and Joker. Lots of conversation up in front, lots of laughter, but aside from soft murmurs here and there Elena and I seem to be content to just enjoy our mutual presence, and Euler is equally quiet and reserved. Personally I think he’s still a little unnerved by our surroundings; I’ve grown used to them far more quickly than I thought I would have, but sometimes when I look back I see Euler gazing at the walls or the ceiling or the wet, sticky, red-veined floor with something approaching trepidation in his tight-set lips, clutching at the remote control like a talisman, working the joysticks mechanically without even looking to make sure Joker keeps putting one foot in front of the other. I’d squeezed Elena’s hand and then fallen back, walked with Euler for a while, asked him all sorts of questions about Joker.

The remote, he told me, seemingly happy to have someone asking about something, I gradually realized, that might have been his life’s work, wasn’t for fine motions or anything incredibly precise. The machine brain inside Joker knew, he said, how to balance, how to grab things, how to walk, the remote was just for telling it where to move, what to grab, and so on. The eventual goal was for the remote to not be necessary but they weren’t confident enough in the robot’s autonomy yet for that to be possible, outside of limited and controlled circumstances.

I think again of Joker’s hand clenching hard enough to strain metal, there in the dark of the gondola, just inches from me, and wonder.

I say goodbye to Euler, filter back up. Elena has worked her way up into the rest of the group and is speaking animatedly to Fumi and Ellis about something. I watch her for a while, lit by the bobbing headlamps from behind, smiling to myself, and then someone nudges me and I look over to see Slate walking alongside, tall and handsome and shining even inside the helmet and the lumpy ranger suit. He grins at me but more gently than the other night at the party, and I can’t stop myself from smiling back at him. We haven’t spoken much, other than a few perfunctory comments here and there, but now he inclines his head down to me, nodding ahead at Elena.

“You and Novak, eh?” he says, his tone mildly congratulatory, and I flush immediately but it’s accompanied by a warm, slightly fuzzy sensation that I recognize after a moment as gratification at implied acceptance, and so I grin cheekily up at him, and shrug.

“Is it that obvious?”

Slate tilts his head as if considering. “Well, you do spend most of your time together, but I wouldn’t think that was out of the ordinary considering you’re the only two women on the team…” he says, and I start to say something, but then a smirk curls his lips. “…except I saw you two holding hands here in the back for like six hours yesterday, so I put two and two together.”

Something about this strikes me as so funny that I laugh hard enough for Klaus to slow his pace, fall in step with us, and ask what the joke is, and then me and Slate are both laughing at Klaus’s slightly bemused expression, but I reach out and put my hand on his shoulder and assure him that we aren’t making fun of him, that it was something else, and he’s a good sport about it. I walk there for a while sandwiched between the two of them, washing in the realization that the acceptance I was so hungry for back when I first met the team has come and found me so subtly that I didn’t even realize.

Slate and Klaus and I talk for a while and I only have to make up a couple of stories about my dismally ordinary life in Admin. Klaus is very quiet, I discover, but whenever I look over to see if he’s still paying attention I see his eyes glittering at me very alert and contemplative, the cast of his face screaming ease at me from every pore. And Slate – well, Slate isn’t so bad, not really. Maybe I had been too quick to judge at first, even if he does keep calling me ‘little lady.’

It feels like a knot somewhere inside of my heart is undoing itself and the feeling of looseness is so distantly-remembered that for a while it feels as though something is wrong.

Eventually Slate has to go up and put the hydraulic stent he carries into a narrow passage, and so he leaves us, pulling a face as he does, and then it’s Klaus and me, standing there in the middle of the pack, Crookshank, the Sergeant, and Slate up at the front fiddling with the jack and the rest of us watching. I realize something after a moment and then lean over to Klaus.

“Hey,” I say. “What’s the Sergeant’s name?”

Klaus laughs softly. “He’s South African,” he says. He has a soft, lilting Spanish accent. “So he has a long, unpronounceable Dutch-sounding name. He got tired of all of us saying it wrong so he just told us to call him Sergeant.”

I think back to my brief high school Die Antwoord phase and suppress a grin. “Reasonable,” I mutter.

“Eh?”

“I said that that’s reasonable.”

Klaus nods. He’s only a little taller than me, and very slightly built. I’ve wondered a little about what his role on the team must be but after watching him move over the past couple of days I figured out that he must be some sort of scout. There’s a lithe kind of panther’s grace in the way he moves, even in the bulky plated suit, and he’s accidentally startled me a couple of times just because of how quiet he can be. We talk for a little longer but he’s mostly interested in stories about my ‘work’ at Admin and I keep steering the conversation in other directions and he picks up quickly that I don’t really want to talk about it. He isn’t rude enough to pry, though, and we quickly lapse into small talk. He has a son and a wife back there in Gumption somewhere, and the way his face lights when he talks about them does something funny to me that I can’t immediately identify.

He fumbles around in a pocket for a while, there in the middle of the crowd, bobbing headlamps and quiet conversation and the grunt of effort and muttered curses there in the front while Crookshank and the Sergeant and Slate struggle with the goddam motherfucking wing nut on the side of the goddam motherfucking son of a bitch fucking hydraulic jack, goddam it motherfucker turn will you, and pulls out a photograph of the three of them, looking like it was taken at a barbecue or something. Wide smiles. His wife is very pretty. I tell him so and he smiles at me, an echo of the miniature one in the photo.

Then the jack pops into life and we’re stomping through the vein. I end up behind Elena and goose her lightly and she turns around, neck awkward and stumpy in the suit, and grins at me through the glass plate of the helmet. She reaches back for me, catches my hand and squeezes it tightly. “You doing alright?” she asks. “Haven’t seen you much all day.”

“I’m great,” I tell her. “Just been hanging out. Smile,” I tell her, and she looks down at the camera and sticks her tongue out, holds it there. I let her go for a second or so, then laugh. “It’s video.”

“Oh, right.”

We eat a quick perfunctory lunch a little later, there at the lowest point of the organ trail, a sort of off-branching tributary that meanders horizontally through about a mile of flesh before we reach the Cord.

Spectacular doesn’t even begin to cover it. I hadn’t really asked questions about our destination because I’d made assumptions about what it was, but when we came to the hollowed-out clearing and the Sergeant had opened the enormous and terrifically old metal submarine door set into the exposed bone there and ushered us inside, I hadn’t known what to expect – but certainly not a spiral staircase set around the inside of the Pit’s spinal cord. There in the middle, suspended in air and protected by a solid case of glass and metal, is a intensely complex filigree of thin gossamer nerves, tangled and bundled and flowing with light, thick corded globs of it surging blisteringly fast up and down the length of the spine for as far as I can see in both directions, until it fades into murky darkness above and below.

Elena catches up to me while I’m standing there gawking and laughs at me, especially when I take her hand and hold it there, just for a moment, catch her up and get her to just stand next to me and stare.

“Pretty, huh?”

“I had no idea,” I say softly, my eyes tracking a particularly fat and slow-moving bundle of light, “that they’d built inside the spine of this place –“

“It’s not really the spine. There are a bunch of cords like this, there’s like five or six,” she informs me, cutting her head to the left and getting us moving again. “This one was just the most convenient to use for getting up and down vertically. It goes all the way down to the Gift Gardens.”

“To the what?”

“The bowels. Long story. Tell you sometime later.”

“But these nerves –“

“They put this in a long time ago,” she says, gesturing at the burnt-out lights, at the metal stairs. “When they didn’t really care about the Pit’s wellbeing. We’re probably the first people to have used this in at least a decade.”

“Why don’t they get rid of it?”

“Too much effort,” Euler guesses from behind us. “Not enough budget.”

“Yeah,” Elena grunts, glancing back at him. “And too much damage taking it out, now that the Pit’s grown back around it.”

We walk in silence then, accompanied only by Joker’s echoing footfalls, until finally, what feels like a couple hundred feet down, we pass through another thick door and into Oyster’s Shame.

I understand the name, or at least part of it immediately, for as I look around my light catches the surface of the vast, rugose, spleenlike organ and it shimmers and breaks apart into a soft pearly opalescence that reminds me of the ocean, of the way the light catches the water in a tidepool.

The surface is deep and spongy and pockmarked with perfectly round craters, each about as big around as a queen bed or so. Here and there the craters still have occupants – vast round balls of something, cakey and flaking, a dirty off-white color. Some of them have crumbled but others, perhaps newer ones, have more of a lustrous shine to them, similar to the sheen on the walls but deeper in a way, like layers of more and more subtle colors and gradations of white. Craning my neck upwards I see dozens if not hundreds of tinier bulbs forming there on the ceiling, dangling down from thick fleshy strands. Some of the larger ones sway lightly, bulging and pregnant. Are they eggs? Some kind of cocoon for the larva of a creature that lives down here? I go to ask Elena but something in her face stops me. There is some kind of air of reverence here, something I can’t put my finger on. Even Crookshank and Slate up in the front have grown quiet.

We pass in a winding single-file trail through Oyster’s Shame towards the squatting bulk and artificial lines of the Deep Listening Station, hunkered there like a cat licking its lips, light pouring from its portholes, but the closer we get to it the more I feel as though something must be wrong.

The door is open, the great porthole standing open, and the light inside is flickering and indistinct.

We stop and spread out in a rough semi-circle ahead of the doorway. The Sergeant’s face is drawn and grim and for a moment I don’t understand why, but then I look inside and see the trail of blood leading into the station and curving a sharp left out of sight, see a bloody handprint on the wall like it were a scene out of a horror movie.

As everyone around me unlimbers their guns and coaxes as many reassuring metallic clicks and taps out of them as they can, all I can see, all I can train my camera on, is the cold, pale hand lying limp on the floor, the arm it’s attached to extending further back deeper in the station, into gloom that my eyes can’t penetrate, the fingers curled as though beckoning us in.

Continue with Part 19

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A New World Chapter 22: Training Camp Day 4

Author Note: While I was away, Roselia’s third band story was released. I read a summary, but it will not be influencing this fic in any way.

First Chapter Previous Chapter

_________________________________________________________

With only two members in the studio, the room was quiet. That suited Rinko just fine, as she needed to focus completely on the lyrics Yukina presented to her.

When Sayo told her that they would take the morning off practicing to work on writing a new song, Rinko had fully supported the idea. Now was the perfect time to do so, especially since they could record the song this week.

It turned out Yukina had rejected the board game last night to work on the lyrics, since she still needed to put the final touches on them. It was disappointing that she couldn’t play, but when Lisa returned and eagerly joined, the mood turned around.

The other three band members were upstairs this morning, though Rinko didn’t know what they were doing. They hadn’t decided yet when she left, and she couldn’t hear them from the studio. Sayo was going to help with the guitar parts once they had the base of the song done, which would probably be by tomorrow.

Now, with the band split up, it was time to create the song. When Yukina handed Rinko the lyrics, she admitted that she hadn’t been able to complete them until last night. Right now, here at the training camp, was the only time she could’ve written them.

The title line for the song was blank. The lyrics spoke of the unification of the band, they way that they came together to seek the top. Each member had a line during the second half of the verse, leading to them all singing together. The lines of the chorus carried a similar message, looking up and towards the future.

They were great lyrics. Rinko’s thoughts went to the song she’d been working on, playing the melody in her mind. She tried to slot the words in, but it wasn’t going to work. That melody didn’t quite fit these lyrics.

No, she would need to create something new.

Rinko looked up from the notebook, which was perched on a music stand behind her keyboard, eyes meeting Yukina’s. The singer had been watching her read with steady golden eyes, waiting for her reaction.

“D-do you have a tempo in mind?” Rinko asked, not giving her judgement yet on the lyrics.

Yukina’s forehead wrinkled as she thought of a reply. “On the faster side, I think over 180 would be best.” Most of their music was around that tempo, so it made sense. It also matched what Rinko expected; she was right to set aside her other melody.

She leaned forward to click on the metronome that was part of her keyboard, turning the dial up to 180 beats per minute. Rinko reviewed the lyrics again as she listened to it, toe tapping in half time.

Yukina had her hands together in her lap, finger tapping lightly with each beat. Her eyes were narrowed as she focused.

Rinko let the metronome play for a couple minutes, turning over a few potential melodies in her mind. When she glanced back at Yukina, the vocalist had a distinct gleam in her eye. It seemed like she had an idea. Rinko clicked the metronome off.

“How about this, in 4/4 time.”  Yukina didn’t wait, jumping right into presenting her idea. She sang a two measure phrase, much slower than the tempo they were just listening to. She sang in a major key signature, Rinko would need to ask exactly which one. It used a quarter note followed by half notes in the first measure, and then a syncopated rhythm in the second. The tune went up and down with each note, ending on a lower one.

Rinko played it on her keyboard, matching the notes Yukina sang as closely as she could. Yukina nodded, offering a tweak to one of the notes and clarifying the key signature. It sounded even better the second time.

“This could work... on the verses.” Rinko handed the lyric sheet back to Yukina, and then played the tune slowly multiple times in a row. Yukina joined on the second set, singing the portion where the band members counted off. It lined up well, and with a few more tweaks it would be perfect.

The pair stopped, with Rinko grabbing her blank sheet music to jot the phrase down.

Next, they modified it to fit the earlier part of the verse. It wasn’t quite as urgent, and didn’t need as many half notes. After that came the melody of the chorus, which called for a new tune. It could use some of the same notes as the verse, but needed to do a lot more lifting.

They tried a few different melodic lines until they found one that worked and matched well with the verses. It conveyed the emotion of the lyrics as well, lifting the notes and the band higher.

With those three core aspects decided, the two split up for half an hour to work independently. Yukina needed to decide how she would sing the song, while Rinko prepared the first rough draft of the melody on sheet music.

Rinko worked carefully on her task, connecting the portions together. The second verse and bridge would still need more foundation, but they were off to a good start. Maybe Sayo would want to help with the bridge, beyond writing just the guitar part for it. She made a mental note to ask her.

Rinko was able to finish the draft in the half hour designated, then prepared to play it with Yukina. They worked their way through the piece slowly, stopping every few measures to make corrections.

It was a good idea to write a new song; the band needed one. They would keep working until lunch, writing the rest of the melody and adding other instruments. The song was slowly coming together.

As she played, Rinko wondered what was going on upstairs.

______________________________________________________

Training camp was a great time to try new things. Ako truly believed that, from the bottom of her heart. So when Rinko and Yukina split off to work on a new song, that opened up a morning full of opportunities.

Though they couldn’t go far from the house, there was still so much they could do! They could play games or go on an adventure. This house must have had some secrets it was hiding, if Ako only looked close enough to find them. They could also bake, or perhaps compose a song of their own. That would really surprise Rinko and Yukina.

As the other two members went down to the studio, Ako proposed these ideas to Lisa and Sayo. She was excited, regardless of which one was chosen.

The three were standing in a circle in the kitchen, near the main table.

“It’s been a while since we baked together.” Sayo lifted one hand to her chin as she considered the idea. “Not since last fall.”

“Baking sounds like a great idea!” Lisa voiced her agreement. Both of them baked as a hobby, so it made sense that they would pick it.

Sayo frowned slightly. “It might help with the mood too.” Her eyes flicked towards the stairs leading to the studio.

“Yeah…” Lisa sighed, smile slipping away as her voice trailed off.

Ako wasn’t sure what they meant; the mood had been way better over the last couple days. “What should we make?” She wasn’t that familiar with baking. Sure, she’d eaten many a baked good in her time, but she didn’t have much experience making them. Despite that, she was eager to jump in and learn.

“How about cookies?” Sayo’s attention snapped to Ako as she replied, taking her phone out of her pocket and looking down at the screen. “There’s a new recipe I’ve been meaning to try.” She tapped multiple times on the screen.

A moment later Ako’s phone buzzed; Sayo had sent her the link. Lisa must’ve received it too, since she also looked at her phone. Ako opened the recipe and scrolled through it, skimming the ingredients list and directions. It was for sugar cookies, ones that could be cut into fun shapes.

“This looks doable.” Lisa commented as she did the same. “We might need a few more ingredients.”

Oh, that would be the adventure Ako was looking for. “Let’s go shopping!” She raised one fist in the air.

“We should.” Sayo stepped over to the fridge, opening it to look inside. “I’ll make a list of what we still need.” She started typing again on her phone.

Lisa stepped up next to her to peer inside. “We can make the frosting too, add confectioner’s sugar to the list.” Ako hadn’t heard of that, but it had the words sugar in it, so it was probably tasty.

“Alright.”

“Ooh, let’s get some food dye too.” Ako could already picture the cool cookies she’d make, in shape of bats or instruments. Colored frosting would make them even better.

Lisa shot back a thumbs up, stepping back from the fridge. She moved over to the cabinet, looking inside at the baking supplies available. Sayo followed a moment later. Ako didn’t know what they were looking for, so she waited right where she was.

A minute later, and they seemed satisfied with what they saw. Sayo led the way out of the kitchen and back to the front door, where they put their shoes on and ventured out into the world.

The market was only a ten minute walk from the house, a journey Ako had made already a few times. The trio walked there with ease, making small talk about the weather.

They quickly gathered the needed items once inside, which included the confectioner’s sugar, vanilla extract, and food dye, along with other ingredients.

Once they had bought everything, they walked back to the house. The bags were split between the three, with Ako carrying two of them.

Soon, they were re-entering the house and setting the ingredients down in the kitchen. Ako listened to see if she could hear the piano, since it had been a while since they got started downstairs, but the studio was too good at keeping sound in.

“We’ll start with the cookie dough, then make the frosting while it chills.” Lisa said, taking charge with her high-level baking knowledge. She washed her hands at the sink, which was probably a good idea. Sayo went next, followed by Ako.

“I’ll start mixing dry ingredients.” Sayo said after drying her hands. She took a large bowl out of the cupboard and settled at one of the counters.

“That means we have the wet ones.” Lisa took a smaller bowl from the same cupboard, moving to a counter away from Sayo. “Ako, can you grab a spatula?” She pointed to one of the drawers on the other side of the kitchen.

Of course she could do that! Ako stepped around the other two to reach the drawer, opening it to look for the desired object. Surprisingly, there were a few different colored spatulas to choose from, but she settled on a black one. At the other counter, Sayo was very carefully measuring the flour.

When Ako got back to Lisa, her friend had already gathered a few of the wet ingredients. “That’s perfect.” She said, eyeing the spatula Ako clenched in one fist. “I’ll add ingredients while you stir.”

“Sounds good!” Ako stepped in front of the bowl as Lisa moved to the side, plunging her spatula down inside it. There already was an egg cracked at the bottom, so Ako began to stir it. Each time her spatula scaped the side, she imagined the echo of a cymbal hit.

As she stirred, Lisa dropped in more ingredients. The vanilla was easy to mix in, while the butter was tougher. Ako kept at it, stirring the mixture firmly. This wasn’t so hard; she could totally do this! Soon, it had reached a consistent texture.

Lisa had been standing aside, and she leaned over the bowl to take a look. “Looks great Ako!” She then turned to Sayo. “Are the dry ingredients ready?”

There was a bit of white dust in Sayo’s hair, clinging to the ends of it. She was dumping one last teaspoon of powder into her mixture. “Just finished.” She picked the large bowl up, bringing it over the Lisa and Ako.

“Let’s combine them.” Lisa gestured for Ako to pass her the spatula, which she did as she stepped back from the bowl. With apparent ease, Lisa lifted the smaller bowl and poured the contents into the larger one. She then stuck the spatula inside and began to stir. Sayo took the smaller bowl to wash, while Ako moved closer to peer at the mixture.

“It already looks great.” Ako commented.

“They’re gonna be delicious.” Lisa stirred carefully, mixing the ingredients together. The dough was thick and clung to the spatula.

When Sayo finished washing the bowl, she looked in the cupboard again. Ako hopped over to see if she needed any help. Sayo emerged with a box of wax paper, which she unrolled onto one of the counters. “We’ll need two.” She said, tearing the first piece off and offering it to Ako.

Ako held it tightly as Sayo tore another one off, and soon both were ready. It was good timing, since Lisa was just about done mixing the dough. They brought the paper over to her counter, since the bowl was harder to move. Sayo gained a rolling pin along the way.

Ako marveled at how in sync Sayo and Lisa were in the kitchen. She knew they had baked together before, but it was still amazing to watch them work together.

“Ako, have you rolled dough before?” Lisa asked as she took the sheet of wax paper from the teen, spreading it on the table.

“Nope.” Ako replied honestly. She was eager to try.

“No better time to learn.” Lisa scooped some of the dough out with her hands, placing it on the wax paper. She only took about half of it out, before taking the second sheet from Sayo. It was placed on top of the dough, leaving it pressed between the two. “Sayo’ll guide you, she’s an expert.”

Sayo’s cheeks dusted pink at that, but she didn’t comment on it. “Let’s get started then.” She handed the rolling pin to Ako, showing her how to hold it on both sides. “Don’t press too hard. We’re aiming for one quarter inch, not completely flat.”

Ako grit her teeth in determination as she lowered the rolling pin down onto the dough pile. She slowly rolled over the top of it, carefully pushing it down.

“You can push a little harder.” Sayo was right by her side, watching her every move.

Ako did as instructed, applying more pressure to the dough. The rolling pin moved over it smoothly, steadily making it flatter and flatter. It was easy with the wax paper, since the pin couldn’t stick to the dough. She rolled rhythmically, two beats up and two beats back. A rhythm formed in her mind, around the movement of the pin.

Once she thought it was close, she stopped. Ako leaned over to look at the thickness, trying to decide if this was one quarter inch. She had no idea; it was super hard to tell.

Sayo had leaned down on the other side, checking the same thing. “A little more.” She said as her final judgement.

With just a few more sweeps of the rolling pin, the first half was done. Ako beamed as she lifted the rolling pin off, marveling at what they’d made. Behind her, Lisa had appeared with a baking sheet. She placed the tray next to it, removed the top wax paper layer, then flipped it expertly onto the tray. Once Lisa took the tray away, it was time to roll the rest of the dough.

“I’ll do the second half.” Sayo said as she started scooping the remaining dough onto the paper. “If you don’t mind washing the bowl.”

“I’m on it!” Once the dough was all out, Ako took the bowl over to the sink. It really was a large bowl, but she shouldn’t have too much trouble cleaning it.

By the time she was done, the front of her shirt was drenched and the second set of dough was ready. Lisa transferred it to a second baking sheet to put in the fridge with the other one.

“In an hour, we can cut them into shapes.” Lisa declared as she shut the fridge. “Let’s do the frosting for now.”

“What colors are we making?” Sayo asked, taking the food dye they’d bought out of the bag.

“Black and white for sure.” Ako wanted to make sure of it, so she could make cool bat cookies and a piano for Rinko.

“Blue and red too, if you’re alright with making four.” Lisa directed her words at Sayo.

“That’s fine, we’ll just divide it before we add the food dye.” Sayo retrieved the small bowl, the one Ako stirred the wet ingredients in before.

They soon had prepared all four colors of frosting, which Ako just had to sample to see if they tasted the same. Unsurprisingly, they did.

The cookie dough had chilled long enough by that point, so they cut it into shapes and then put it in the oven.

Ako watched through the tiny window as the cookies baked, eager to frost them. She was even more excited to see Rinko and Yukina’s reactions when they received them.

She hoped the song writing was going well downstairs.

________________________________________________________

Lisa carried the small bag carefully in her hand. The plastic was clear, showing the handmade goods inside.

Making cookies earlier had been a fantastic idea, exactly what Lisa needed. The recipe Sayo found was a good one; she would make some after training camp to give to Ai. That was a thought for later though.

For now, she had hoped that the band resyncing would improve Yukina’s mood, but so far it hadn’t been going that well. Over the last few days Yukina was still hard to talk to, even as the band thrived. They’d talked about music, of course, but outside of that it almost felt like Yukina was avoiding her. Even during rehearsal that afternoon, Yukina hardly looked her way. Perhaps she was still worried about the band, about what would happen after the training camp.

Tonight, with these cookies, Lisa hoped to change that. If Yukina refused to talk with her, the cookies were her way in. Even if their relationship wasn’t going to evolve, she would never allow their friendship to fall apart.

This led Lisa to where she was now, standing in the hallway of the rented house. Yukina had excused herself from the room a few minutes before, taking her headphones and notebook out to the main part of the house. Lisa watched her go, before deciding to follow. She took the bag of cookies with her, the ones she decorated specifically for Yukina.

As Lisa lurked in the hallway, watching Yukina as she sat at the main kitchen table, she felt hesitation creeping into her mind. Doubt, one of her worst enemies, whispered in her ear. Was it right to keep forcing Yukina to talk to her if she didn’t want to? It had to be her fault too, that their relationship was declining. Was this really for the best?

No, she shouldn’t think like that. Lisa snapped herself out of it, shaking her head firmly. Yukina valued their friendship as much as she did; she knew that. Even with everything that had changed, she was doing the right thing by trying to preserve it.

With that in mind, Lisa stepped out of the hallway and into the kitchen. Yukina had her eyes on her notebook, headphones over her ears. She was reading something as she listened, following along with her finger. It must’ve been the new song. Lisa sat across from her at the table and held the cookie bag out of sight underneath it. Yukina’s eyes slowly came up from the paper, locking on Lisa’s.

For a moment, Lisa just looked at her. Yukina, her best friend in the world, was holding her gaze with a mildly confused look. Her eyebrows came together slowly, silently asking a question.

“Do you have a minute?” Lisa asked rather than explaining, internally cringing at how awkward of a question that was.

Yukina nodded, lifting her headphones over her ears and setting them on the table. “Is something wrong?” Her voice was level.

“No, um, not really.” That wasn’t quite the truth, but Lisa didn’t want to continue the conversation down that path. “I just, wanted to talk to you.”

Yukina broke eye contact, looking at a spot over Lisa’s shoulder. “I see.” She said unhelpfully. She had closed herself off, as she so often did.

Lisa was undeterred. “How did song writing go today?”

“Rinko is very talented.” Was what Yukina said in reply, now directing her gaze back down to the notebook. She didn’t elaborate.

“Of course!” Lisa provided the energy for both of them. “She’s Roselia’s pianist after all.”

Yukina didn’t respond, instead fidgeting with the corner of her notebook.

Lisa watched her, took in every little motion. A minute passed, the tension in the air only growing. Usually they could sit in comfortable silence, but today neither was comfortable. Lisa had too much she needed to say. She just had to bring herself to say it.

“Is that all?” Yukina asked the question without looking up, her tone cold. Despite the chill to her words, there was a hint of insecurity. It pushed Lisa forward.

“No, it isn’t.” Lisa took a deep breath to center herself, her hand tightening on the bag. “You know I’m here for you, right? Don’t push me away.” She fought to keep her voice steady, to not let loose the emotions boiling beneath the surface. Gold eyes came back to hers, smoldering with unreadable sentiment. “Whether Roselia continues or not, I’ll stay by your side. No matter what happens, I will always be your friend.” That was a line full of mixed feelings. It hurt, to again admit that they would never be more than friends. It was also a relief, to finally express some of how she felt to Yukina.

Yukina’s expression flashed to something Lisa couldn’t quite place as she processed the words, mouth opening as if to speak. She inhaled, then exhaled without saying anything. Then, as if realizing something, Yukina’s expression snapped back to composed. It took her a few more seconds to reply. “I’m sorry I’ve been short with you.” She practically muttered; it was rare for her to apologize. Lisa’s heart throbbed in her chest. “I’ll remember that. I’m your friend too.”

That was all Lisa wanted. She felt tears welling up in her eyes with relief, but quickly rubbed them away with her free hand. Yukina looked alarmed and moved to stand, but Lisa waved for her to stay seated. She was so endearing when she tried to help. “I’m glad.” Lisa said, again wiping one forming tear.

“Do you need a tissue? I’ll get one.” Yukina offered, speaking faster than usual.

Lisa shook her head, already recovering. “No, I’m fine now.” It was still a lie, but much less of one than what she said before. The plastic bag crinkled between her fingers, reminding her of its presence. She still needed to give it to her. “I almost forgot; these are for you.” Lisa lifted the bag of cookies, reaching across the table to hold them out to Yukina.

Yukina’s golden eyes widened with surprise as she reached up to accept the bag. “Thank you.” She replied politely, tugging at the ribbon to open the plastic. Lisa could hear her inhale sharply when she saw what was inside.

These cookies were in the shape of small blue roses, with careful frosting work to match. The lines were done in black so that it was clear exactly what they were supposed to be. It had been a test of her frosting skills, but she thought they turned out well. Lisa made them while Ako and Sayo made tiny keyboard cookies.

Yukina’s expression softened as she carefully took one out of the bag, setting it on the table to get a better look at it. “I love them, they’re almost too good to eat.” She raised one eyebrow with the second half.

Lisa laughed at that, unable to resist Yukina’s jokes. “You’d better eat them.” She chuckled, drawing a smile from Yukina.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Yukina picked her headphones up from where they rested on the table. “Do you want to listen to the new song demo?”

That was an easy one. “Yes, for sure.” Lisa reached over to take the headphones, slipping them over her head. With a slight tug to extend them, they fit easily over her ears. Yukina moved over the lyrics as well, so Lisa could follow along. “Do you have a title yet?” Lisa asked before Yukina could start the music, noticing that there wasn’t one at the top of the page.

“No, not yet.” Yukina replied, then hit a button on her phone. The piano track played in Lisa’s ears, along with Yukina’s singing. It sounded slow, likely not at tempo. Even at the lower tempo, it carried a high level of energy.

Yukina’s voice sounded strong, carrying the song from start to finish. Lisa had always loved her singing, loved watching her perform. She’d always loved her, though she was trying to avoid that thought.

For now, as the song finished in her ears and Yukina slowly ate one of the blue rose cookies, they would continue to be best friends. They would continue to play in Roselia together.

For now, that was enough.

_________________________________________________________

End note: I listened to a metronome again for this.

I have decided the total chapter count, since I now know how many more training camp chapters there will be and how many chapters are planned after that. If I need to change it I will, but 30 is the anticipated final chapter count.

This chapter, and the mini arc as a whole, got away from me in a big way. Two more chapters then we’re back to our regularly scheduled programming. I hope you are still enjoying it, and thanks for reading!

Next Chapter

[spookyceph]

Garden-variety

ShigaDabi Week Day 5 | Civilians

Summary: Just your average, everyday family. Nothing to see here.

Rating: SFW

Warnings: Swearing

The door swings open, setting off a pleasant tinkle from the bell hung above it. The man who enters the shop halts two steps in. Stares, moon-eyed, at the wall-to-wall jungle surrounding him. Plants hang from the ceiling, trailing shiny leaves and flowers as big as an open hand just overhead. They cluster on shelves outfitted with lights and temperature control running along both walls, organized by type and need: prickly cacti, tender herbs, seasonal blooms, medicinal roots. Potted specimens that populated office buildings just like the one he’d clocked out from not long ago dominate the tiled floor, leaving only a narrow path to the register deeper in. The air is close and sweet and alive with the scent of green, growing things. When the man received directions to this side street he’d had his doubts. Now he sees why Anai from accounting recommended it. Though small, the shop has impressive variety as well as healthy stock. He walks up to the counter and gives the service bell a single, polite tap.

A tall figure emerges from a doorway to the right. The man freezes halfway through his standard smile of greeting.

It has to be an employee. Maybe even the owner. Logic leaves no room for other explanations. Yet the mental images the man carries of such people share as much in common with what he sees as a poodle does with a wolf. It has nothing to do with the scars—though they’re impossible to miss. They ripple up the stranger’s forearms and cover the whole lower half of his face, mottled pink and white, textured like a half-melted wax museum figure. No, it’s more the multiple piercings gleaming in both ears, the side of the nose, right eyebrow, even two in the scarred lower lip. Another factor is the spiky mess of half-white, half-black hair. His clothes clinch it. They have a worn, handmade look, his shirt a thin linen, and rips in a few random places on his jeans.

The way he arches a brow, wiping long-fingered hands on a rag, does nothing to dispel first impressions. “Yes?”

Though the question is curt, the voice asking it remains rather soft. Its still enough to throw the man further off balance.

“I…er��flowers?”

The lack of coherency doesn’t slow the stranger a but. “Anniversary, funeral, hot date, what?”

“Um, well, an apology, actually.”

“To whom, and how bad did you fuck up?”

The man clutches his messenger bag to his chest as if it’s a shield. “E-excuse me?”

Employee, owner, whoever he is sighs and throws the rag onto the counter. “I don’t give a shit about the details—I’m a florist, not your therapist. But I do need some idea of what you’re going for so I can plan accordingly. So, again, who’d you piss off, and how much?”

Anyone with a decent amount of common sense and even a scrap of pride would have told the odd stranger to mind his own business, thank you very much. Maybe even stormed out. Written a bad review. Found some way to file a complaint. The man knows this. Yet nothing about their interaction thus far suggests the other would regret the loss of a customer whatsoever. More important, something in the unflinching intensity of the stranger’s electric-blue eyes says that threatening him in any way would be a bigger mistake than what the flowers are for in the first place.

So, suddenly sweating and feeling suffocated by the shop’s tropical air, the man stammers out the truth. “M-my girlfriend.”

The other takes one look at his red, damp face and nods. “That bad, huh? Fine. I’ll see what I can do. No promises, though.”

Meek as a mouse, he watches the shopkeeper—the stranger can be no one else, fearless as he is—pull a pair of shears from his back pocket. He goes to one shelf, clipping several examples of a deep purple flower that grows in long clusters. Going to another, he cuts a few sprigs of bluebells—these the man recognizes. Lastly, he gathers a bunch of large clovers from a long tray. Selections decided, the florist goes to work arranging them.

The purple flowers he staggers at descending heights so the clusters aren’t mashed together. Between them, the bluebells are hung like strings of tears. Partway below the other two, he groups the clovers. All three are bound with a rubberband around the stems and slipped into a narrow glass vase from beneath the counter. He sets the arrangement down.

“There you go. Anything else?”

With one look, the man forgives the shopkeeper’s rough edges. While flowers won’t make up for anything, the thought and beauty of these serve as a promise that he’s willing to back the gesture up with action.

“These are perfect. Thank you.” He surrenders his credit card.

“You’ll want a pink rose from the place two streets over next time,” the florist says while ringing him up. “I don’t usually carry any here.”

The man blinks. “Next time?”

“After your girlfriend and the other woman dump you. A pink rose is a good choice for people on a first date. Romantic, but not as intense as a red one.”

His heart and jaw drop simultaneously. “B-but…you don’t think…they won’t both dump me, will they?”

Bright blue eyes piercing, the florist hands the credit card back. “Only if they’re smart. Have a nice evening.”

Shell-shocked, the man shambles his way to the exit, flowers in hand, glazed stare not registering the shop door as it opens before he reaches it. Nor the boy with half red, half white hair who holds it open for him with a wry smile as he staggers out.

The door closes quietly behind the newcomer.

“Another satisfied customer, I see.” His soft-spoken cadence bears an unmistakable resemblance to the shopkeeper’s, just as his face, hair, and left eye do.

“He had it coming. Anyway, you have uncanny timing. He was my last for the day.”

Shrugging, the boy holds up the plastic shopping bag in his right hand. “Fuyumi sent me to pick up a few things for dinner tonight. I figured I might as well walk home with you since I was in the area.”

“And make sure your delinquent older brother stays out of trouble. Right.” The florist sighs. “It’s been two years since Deika City, Shōto. No one’s come after my head. Not much of a Hero Commission left to.”

“That doesn’t mean the remainder aren’t still looking. Natsuo, Fuyumi, and I are just watching your back, Touya.”

“Keeping me on a short leash, you mean.”

“Your husband agrees with us.”

“My husband can use whatever leash he wants on me. It’s just annoying when you three do it.”

The boy’s—Shōto’s—nose wrinkles. “Too much information.”

“Like you don’t feel the same about your friend. The one that was over last—”

A sudden cough interrupts him. “I’m not one of the country’s most wanted villains.”

The shopkeeper—Touya—presses a hand to his chest. “I’m but a humble florist. Not a villainous bone in my body.”

“Explain the theft charges then.”

Black eyebrows shoot up. “What theft charges?”

“Stealing my hair’s color scheme, you jerk.”

A smirk creeps across Touya’s face. “There’s hope for you yet.”

-

As predicted, they arrive home without incident. While Shōto goes to deliver the groceries to Fuyumi and Natsuo, who can be heard clattering around in the kitchen, Touya heads to the other side of the sprawling house. Also as expected, he slides open the partition to his room and finds a blanket-draped figure still sitting on the futon, hunched over a handheld game.

“Haven’t moved since I left this morning, have you?” he says with no real disapproval.

“Nope,” comes the shameless reply.

Smiling, Touya kneels beside the figure and pulls the top part of the blanket away. Long white hair that curls every which way is revealed. The figure’s eyes don’t tear themselves away from the flickering screen. Eyes as red as the crown of camellias Touya plops onto the other’s head.

At last, the game pauses.

“Must be the end of the week if you’re bringing me dead plants.” The way the crimson eyes look everywhere but at Touya ruin the sneer on chapped, scarred lips, though.

“Tenko.”

“What?”

Touya leans in, closer and closer, until the concept of personal space vanishes, and he has to be stopped with an annoyed—yet still gentle—elbow to the ribs.

“What? What do you—?”

“Nothin’.” He tucks some of the unruly curls behind the other man’s ear. “Just happy to see you is all.”

That does the trick. Tenko’s gaze locks with his for a split second before skittering away again. Touya watches, biting the insides of his cheeks to hold back a laugh, as his husband grabs an empty cup beside the futon. He fumbles, nearly dropping it—and not because one hand is missing fingers either.

“Make yourself useful and get me some water.”

“Hm…you are looking flushed.” Touya puts a palm to Tenko’s forehead. “You’re not coming down with a fever, are you?”

The offending hand is smacked away. “I’m your king. You aren’t allowed to make fun of me. I forbid it.”

With a bow meant to hide his grin more than anything else, Touya takes the cup and heads for the kitchen.

One glance at the piles of chopped vegetables covering the counter tell him something is up.

“We expecting an army?” he asks as he opens the refrigerator.

“Just three of your friends who led one,” Natsuo replies, still slicing and adding to the heap (and occasionally sneaking a bite or two). “Tenko asked if we could have them over tonight.”

Touya’s fingers slip on the handle of the water pitcher. Only a last-second scoop and grab saves it from shattering all over the floor. “He did? When?”

“A couple of days ago.” Fuyumi taste-tests whatever she has simmering on the stove before adding a pinch of salt. “They’ll be here in a couple of hours.”

“Atsuhiro-san offered to bring sushi, but…” Natsuo taps the knife on the cutting board, looking bemused. “I think he was joking? Only I don’t get it.”

“He’s joking if he knows what’s good for him.” Body curiously light, Touya closes the refrigerator. “Need any help?”

Fuyumi shakes her head and wipes her steamed up glasses off on the hem of her shirt. “We took care of most of the prep work before you came home from work. Anyway, we’ve agreed to keep all sharp objects away from you.”

“Besides, you over spice everything,” chimes in Natsuo.

“Haha. Everyone in this house is suddenly full of snappy comebacks.”

“We learned from the best.”

-

Touya is still smiling when he returns to the bedroom. Not only has Tenko gotten up, but he’s in the middle of stripping off his pajamas. As he pulls his shirt over his head, Touya admires the dozes of scars crisscrossing his torso. The scars that had bought their lives. That proved how far he was willing to go for those he loved.

“Hm?” Tenko drops the shirt and blinks down at the finger tracing an old, jagged slice running diagonally through his chest. The flower crown is still on his head, though askew.

“You asked the others to come over.”

Caught, he raises one hand to the side of his neck, lightly scratching. “Yeah, well…it’s been a while since we saw them, that’s all.”

Touya sets the cup aside on the dresser. Gently pulls the worrying fingers away, pressing them over his heart instead. The index and thumb lift to keep away from full contact purely out of habit.

“I’m glad.”

Tension drains away from Tenko’s posture with a sigh. His free hand rises to stroke the pinkish ripples of scar tissue on Touya's cheek. The ripples that had once been so much half-living skin on a half-dead man.

“You know…they won’t be here for a couple hours yet.” A smile flickers to life on Tenko’s face as the heartbeat under his palm picks up its tempo.

“I suppose we can keep busy in the meantime. We never did cross everything off those lists of ours.”

Tenko’s eyebrows leap up. “You remember what was left on them? Off the top of your head?”

Smirking, Touya leans in to nuzzle his neck. “I only went over them about a million times, imagining doing everything with you.”

Though Tenko huffs, his eyes go half-lidded, breath speeding up a notch. “Do you happen to remember whose turn it was to pick then?”

“Hmm…no. But I concede the choice to you.”

“How generous.”

“You are my king, after all.”

Tenko’s hand buries itself in the undyed half of Touya’s hair. “I am, aren’t I?” A tug earns a rewarding gasp. “Even though you’ve always been the sort of subject who follows orders only when he wants to.”

“You finally gonna teach me to behave?”

“Doubtful.” A show of teeth, thrilling and fearsome. “But I guess I’ll just have to keep trying, won’t I? You’re bound to learn one of these days.”

An answering smirk. “Sure. One of these days.”

[peachnewt]

Midnight Snack - Playing House

Fluff to the max. Intimate times between two men insinuated but not graphically described in text.  Deep kissing is present.  Skip between the &&& if you prefer to not read it.  The Getting In Deep series and it’s short stories are my own creation.  Do not steal or alter.  

 Papers, magazine cutouts, and equations sat in piles on Will's desk.  Will, headless of the slippery magazine paper that threatened to kiss the ground, kept taking notes from his screen.  

When Reese arrived, he was surprised to see Will at work before everyone else in Main Tech.  

"Getting a head start on a case?" asked Reese.  

"No."  Will tabbed his screen and frowned.  "I'm helping Louis find a house."  

"Really?" Reese wondered how far Louis and Will had gotten in their relationship.  "Why would he want to move?"  

Reese walked around Will's desk to look at the screen.  

When house hunting, most people imagine realtors, property tax, curb appeal, square footage, and zoning issues.  The average challenges one would find on HGTV shows.  Reese expected to see Zillow listings, or Homefinder.  He hadn't expected Barbie's Malibu Dream Home from Toys-R-Us.  

Reese blinked, wondering if the morning caffeine had yet to kick in.  "A dollhouse?"  

Louis walked into Main Tech with two mugs.  "Yeah, because everything I found is, in Will's words, "dinky plastic trash"."

"They don't even have it proportioned right.  I did the calculations," said Will, scrolling through the preview images of other child- sized dollhouse.  "The bathtub is right next to the door, who does that?"  

"Those things are meant for playing with, not living in," said Louis, nursing his second cup of coffee and handing Will his tea.  They had spent the last half hour descending into a research spiral of toy sites looking at houses and miniatures.  Louis began thinking this was actually worse than real house hunting.  

"I have a civil engineering degree, I'm allowed to be offended," said Will.

"You would be offended at the construction of a gingerbread house."  

"Those are for decoration and eating.  It's not the same thing."  

"One moment.  I feel like I need a little bit of clarification."  Reese struggled to catch up with the train of thought Louis and Will had gotten on, apparently leaving him behind at the station.  "Louis, why are you in the market for a dollhouse?"  

Louis sat and spun his chair to catch the slipping pile of magazine clippings.  "Because some nights I'm sleeping in a shoebox on Rachel's desk."  

There had been nights when Louis was too exhausted to switch back from his tiny sized self and had to sleep in Rachel's office.  His "room" consisted of a shoe box with a tiny flat pillow for a mattress, a linen square for a blanket, a charging stand for his large sized phone, and a rectangle hole for a door.  

"I feel like a kitten awaiting adoption by the side of the road," Louis continued.

"I see.  I wouldn't mind sleeping in a shoebox on Rachel's desk," said Reese, a dreamy look in his eyes.  

Beni, carrying a dozen doughnuts in one hand and a RockStar energy drink in the other, paused as she entered Main Tech.  "I think I need context."  

***

Ten minutes later, Beni had been pulled into the communal craze of looking up tiny dollhouses.  They pulled up everything from antique houses made in the 1950s, to Lego replicas of Hogwarts.  By a stroke of a keyword during Beni's search, she hit the mother load with DIY Dollhouse kits sold on specialty hobby sites.  They ranged from Modern loft apartments, to Chinese homesteads complete with a throne room.  They even had miniature cafe's with tiny pastries.  Each dollhouse listing came with a video on how to construct it.  Of course, with a specialty hobby, it came with a specialty price.  

"It's a friggin' bed," said Louis, gesturing to the miniature furniture on the screen. "How hard is it to make a proper bed for at 1/24th scale that isn't going to cost a fortune?  That's what... eight popsicle sticks?"  

"If you want quality at that size then you are going to pay what its' worth," said Reese. "What is more expensive, a Rolex, or a bedside clock?"  

Will pulled up a video with a house similar to a few of the magazine cutouts.  "Most of these do-it-yourself kits use either hot glue or E6000.  Not keen on having a building kept together with hot glue."  

Louis grunted, mesmerized by large hands setting up a tiny living room.  "Are we spiraling again?"

"Yes, but it's a very satisfying spiral."  

Louis, Will, Reese, and Beni gathered around one screen, tallying the pros and cons of certain designs, and pulling up more DIY dollhouse videos.  

When Cetz arrived at Main Tech, he saw four of his agents picking out dollhouses.  

Cetz felt a headache coming on.  "Know what.  I don't need context.  Meeting in ten."  

**

Eventually Louis picked a DIY kit for a cabin that put him back sixty dollars.  It arrived a week later and Louis set up shop in a spare workroom at the Watch.  He proceeded to burn his hand with a hot glue gun while trying to assemble the walls.  Will approached with ice, tweezers, and a small tube of craft glue.  They finished the small dwelling in an afternoon.  

Half of the tiny furnishings, flower pots, pictures, cute figurines of boats, never made it into the cabin.  They were pasted together for posterity to say it had been finished, and they left in a heap by the dwelling.  None of the furniture went where it was supposed to; Louis didn't trust the stairs to hold if he walked up to the second floor.  The bed ,made of thin wood, looked better than the tiny pillow in his shoebox.  If nothing else, it looked more like a bed.  It looked like a dwelling meant for a human. It even had lighting he could turn off and on with a switch at the bottom of the display platform.  

Louis stood back from the cabin and cracked his back.  His fingers had nearly been glued together while applying wallpaper, and his eyes ached having to look through a magnifying glass.  Will clicked on the light to the house.  They looked proud of their creation, showing it off to Beni, Reese, and Rachel when they came by.  

"It's a good starter home," said Rachel, handing Louis a bag of coffee grounds with a bow taped on it. "Happy housewarming."  

Louis grinned.  The cabin itself was slightly wider than his shoebox but twice as tall, and the platform it stood on was as big as a desk blotter.

"I want one," said Beni, flipping the switch on and off.  

"Make your own," said Louis.  

"I will!" said Beni, a spark of competition in her eyes.  "I'll make one so nice you'll want to sleep there instead!"  

Reese, enticed leaned over. "Care to make a wager?"

The next day, Beni and Reese also ordered DIY dollhouses.  

Louis vowed to never set foot in any of their deathtraps.  

Will vowed to make sure neither of them burned their fingers or used adhesives that could cause respiratory distress.  

While Beni and Reese awaited their kits, Louis ended up exhausted after a long day of testing, and unable to switch back to normal size.  The first night in his new, self-made home.  Rachel left him on her desk, the shoebox on one side, and his cabin on the other.  Louis stumbled wearily to the cabin.  When he laid down on the bed he immediately regretted the thin bit of padding he had mistaken for a mattress.  It had looked fluffy enough when he had glued the stuffing down.  He dragged the cheap pillow out of the shoebox and into the cabin.

Will found him the next morning splayed akimbo on the cushion, wrapped up in the thin "bed spread" like a croissant.  

"Bed not work?"

"I could feel beads of dried glue under the mattress."  Louis snuggled tighter into the pillow until Will coaxed him onto his palm and into the lab to "grow up".  

Louis had been so miserable with the construction of his tiny bed, he actually looked forward to Beni and Reese's dollhouses

The two kits arrived and Will made sure the construction was a surprise to Louis, warding him from the workshop as Beni and Reese unpacked their kits with child-like glee.  

They wondered if the two former thieves ever got something like a dollhouse in their younger years.

Instead of cranking out the houses in an afternoon, Beni and Reese took half hours off between shifts to work on them.  Both seemed to find contentment in their distraction.  After a week, they were finished.  

Reese had constructed a gothic themed Victorian home with a tiny staircase hidden behind a bookshelf full of miniature books.  Several windows were painted to look like stained glass.  And the bed was a four-poster with a canopy.  His pride had been renovating the kitchen area to have a tiny fridge that actually worked and held tiny shots of pudding he had made himself. And on one wall he had put up a tiny grandfather clock, made with a working clock face.  

"Somebody likes their gothic," said Will as he squinted to see inside the hidden staircase. "Good detail."  

"Classic taste is good taste."  

Beni had gone modern with a split level house.  White on silver furnishings with touches of neon purple and one of the accent walls for a workout room consisted of an entire mirror.  The bed was covered in multiple pillows, each a shade of gray or white. ��Her pride was adding a slide from the top level to the bottom, the landing cushioned with a layer of cotton balls.  

"Very playful," said Will.  

"Got most of the style stuff from a Home & Garden magazine.  But who wouldn't want a slide in their house?"  

Louis shrunk, bypassed all the fancy additions and special furnishings, shooting like a tired arrow towards the beds.  First the canopy bed, then a gray bed with all the pillows.  

Louis groaned in defeat. "It's still not comfortable enough."  

However, he did try the slide, the hidden stairs, and the pudding in the tiny fridge.  Beni and Reese then made Louis promise to shrink them so they could experience the houses themselves.  

Will eyed the beds and the shoebox a warm glow coming to his eyes.  It had been a while since he had done a construction project.  

***

The magazine clippings came back out; Will organizing different furniture pieces and photos from Architectural Digest.  Over the next month, between date entry and retrieval missions, Will peppered Louis with random questions.  

"Dark stain or light?"  

"Oriental, log cabin, industrial, modern?"  

"How much do you cook verses eating out?"  

"Do you like gardens?"  

"How about koi ponds?"  

"Silk sheets or cotton?"  

"How do you not know the answer to that?" said Louis, setting aside another patent.  "Cotton."  

"I mean if you won the lottery and could afford anything, silk or cotton?" said Will.

"Still cotton."

It wasn't until Will pulled Louis over to look at a blueprint that he caught on to what Will had been doing.  

"Are you designing a custom dollhouse for me?"  

"Kinda.  I'm not an architect, but I thought I could make you something more than a shoebox or a DIY kit."  A light blush bloomed on Will's neck.  "I want your input on it.  You'd be sleeping there after all."  

"All I want is a better bed," said Louis.  "I respect that little pillow, it's gotten me through some rough nights, but I want a real bed."  

From the blueprint it looked similar to some of the custom DIY dollhouses the three of them had constructed.  Everything from the steps to the sofa had equations measuring out its diameters so it would match Louis' stature when he shrunk.  Multiple chambers, the front wall of the house on a hinge so the insides could be exposed or not, a set of stairs, all on a platform with an outside space with a...

"Is that a gazebo?"  

"Yep," said Will. "Do you want a pond or a pool?"  

"It's a place for me to sleep when I have to stay the night, fanboy," insisted Louis.  "You don't have to go all out with this.  I just wanted something better than a shoebox."  

"But I want to."  

Louis smirked. "Feeling a little competitive after Beni and Reese made their own houses?"  

"...little bit."

"I thought so." Louis brushed his lips to the side of Will's mouth, leaving a coffee ghost of a kiss, and grabbed Will's empty mug. They both needed refills.  "Have at it, fanboy.  Surprise me.  Just... no koi pond.  Especially no koi; those suckers can get huge."  

***

A month later Will led a blindfolded Louis to Rachel's office.

"Are we there yet?" asked Louis.  

"One moment." Will let go of Louis' hands with a squeeze.  "Stay here.  No peeking."  

Louis heard the flicking of switches and the opening of a door.  

"Okay, you can see."  

Louis peeled off the blindfold.  Rachel's office was dimmed, the majority of the light coming from another dollhouse. His jaw dropped.  It spanned half of Rachel's desk.  The house was modern, mostly white trimmed in dark blue and splashes of red.  Like most of the DIY dollhouses the insides were exposed for "play", but this one had a full roof and a panel that acted like a door to the whole front half of the house.  However, the house only took up a third of the platform.  

Behind the house stood a stately garden of green moss, flat pebble paths, and a gazebo overlooking the rise of real seedlings from a small herb patch.  In the center of the garden rose a bonsai strung up with tiny lights like a Christmas tree, and a swing.  The bonsai stood small in comparison to a regular sized shrub, but to an almost three inch human, it would look like a grand tree.  

Louis came closer, leaning in to see the tiny details of the dollhouse.  "How in the world did you do something like this?"  

"Civil engineer, remember.  A lot of my college projects were making models of infrastructure.  That and a lot of model kits."  

Louis motioned to the hinged front of the house.  "Can I...?"  

"I made it for you, yes!"  

Louis opened the front of the house to an open floor plan, tiny lighting, bits of shiny tile, and dark stained furniture.  The DIY houses had similar plans, but this one seemed polished, more real than play.

"Cetz and Reese helped assemble most of the house," said Will.  "Beni picked out the bonsai."  

"The furniture." Louis gently picked up the coffee table from the living room.  I weighed heavy in his hand, not balsa wood or cardboard.  "Those aren't popsicle sticks.  How the hell did you...?"  

"I have some crafty friends on the con circuit that were willing to do some detailed commissions. A lot of it was 3D printed, but the finer furniture was done by hand.  Not a hot-glue stick in sight."  

Louis set down the coffee table and took a closer look at the kitchen.  "Those drawers actually pull out?"  

"Yep."  

"The sink... holy shit there is actual water."  

"Yeah, actual plumbing. We'll have to do the dishes by hand, no dishwasher that size.  But there is water in the kitchen area and the bathroom, both connected to a gallon water heater under the desk."  

Louis noted the "we".  One of them washing while the other dried with the tiny towels and the tiny drying rack. A domestic image he never thought he'd get in real life.  Well, really tiny life.  

"Reese installed his patented snack fridge, I see," said Louis.

"Snacks are a must," said Will.  "Fully stocked with bits of cheese, chocolate, pudding, and a slice of pepperoni. Eating like borrowers."

"Every window has curtains."

"And blackout curtains if you need some dark space."

A refuge, Louis realized.  If I need space or time and I'm stuck, I don't have to feel like a lab rat.  

"That's actual leather on that couch," said Louis, dragging his mind back to the house tour.

"I could afford a quarter yard of real leather."  

Louis saw two charging ports for phones set into the wall so the screens could act as a television. He could imagine the movie nights. One giant kernel of popped corn between them.  

"The doors actually shut and lock?" asked Louis.

"Tiny magnets in the door and door frame.  Also..." Will pointed to where the front of the house closed, hiding the view of the inside.  "Push a latch here, and the whole front of the house will lock from the inside so you can have privacy."  

Louis reopened the front of the house.  He followed the line of sight from the living room, up the stairs, to the bedroom. Dark wood furnishings and soft gray upholstery.  The bed looked neat and tidy as a stuffed envelope, lined in silvery blue and deep red pillows.  

"I made the bed."

"Like you folded the sheets or you made the bed and bed frame personally?"  He had to ask because it seemed Will had been willing to spin his own thread for the sheets.

"Both.  Took a couple of live video tutorials for the frame. No craft glue, or double sided tape. Half a drop of wood paste, tiny dove joints, and teeny finishing nails.  I know you said cotton, but I got denier microfiber silk fabric for the sheets so the thickness is comparable what you would have at normal size."

Louis pressed a finger down on the tiny bed, eyeballing the measurements.  "California King?"  

"Yep."  Will skipped over the fact he had carved by hand a bed definitely made for two.  "Cut the mattress out of memory foam."  

Louis examined the rest of the bedroom.  Interesting that Will had included a washbasin and washcloths when there was an en suite bathroom.  No closet or wardrobe, instead an empty trunk lay at the foot of the bed.  Louis wouldn't need changes of clothing since whatever he shrunk with would have to grow back with him.  The lamp on the bedside table gave a golden glow.  When he opened the bedside cabinet he found a few extra amenities that made the back of his neck heat up.  

Will's bashful look said it all.  

"Wow." Louis cleared his throat, trying to draw his mind away from the bedroom.  The gesture of it all struck him deep.  Will and he still lived in separate places.  Will had made a place for them to be together.  A home that belong to them, not one or the other.  

Okay.  No tears.  Suck it up.

Louis sniffed, needing a distraction.  "So, random question, what was the most expensive thing in this whole house?"

"Well, parts of the electrical plan and plumbing nearly cost me my patience."  

Louis snickered, pulling Will in by the back of the head to kiss his temple.  "Your poor brain.  Let me guess, the leather couch?"  

"Nope.  Made from scraps.  Very cheap."  

"The tiny fridge?"

"The way Reese made it, no.  It cost me a dozen maple bacon doughnuts and a cheesecake."  

"The bonsai. Gotta be the bonsai."  

"Actually the bonsai was the second most expensive thing.  But Beni did some good bargaining."  

"Really?"  

"Mh hm."  

"What was the most expensive then?"

Will touched the fine sheet on the bed.  

"The bed?" said Louis.

"The sheets," Will clarified.  

"How are a tiny set of sheets that expensive?!"

"When you include express shipping from Japan."  

"Fanboy!"  

"You said the bed was the most important thing, so I made sure it got the right stuff!"  

Laughter took over when Louis refused tears.  He hugged Will closed, his nose brushing into hair that still smelled of soap.  

"C'mere.  Thank you.  I can't believe you went so far for this."  

"I wanted to," murmured Will into Louis' neck, leaving a soft touch of breath.  

Will had wanted to give him a home.  Louis wanted Will to know he was home.

&&&

It sent a shiver down Louis' back, making his belly flutter.  He leaned back on the desk until he sat on it, his thigh close to pushing off a pencil box.  Then he pulled Will by the hips until he stood between his legs, chest to chest. Louis curled his head under Will's neck. Will's hands draped across Louis shoulders as if a buoy to a drowning man and breathed in deep.  Warmth surrounded them like an atmosphere growing around a new planet.  

Louis looked over at the house and smirked.  He wouldn't mind spending the night, if he had company.  

"Wanna test out the bed?" said Louis, pulling back.  "Make sure it's up to your standards?"  

"You mean you want to see if you can wreck the bed," said Will.  

"I know I can wreck you on the bed; if I can wreck the bed with you, bonus."  

The blush at Will's neck charged over the hinge of his jaw and conquered his cheeks and nose.  Louis knew by experience the blushing army had already conquered collarbones and sternum.  He planted the final flag of victory by drawing Will's head down for a kiss, deeper than the rest.  Will relaxed into his embrace like a puddle needing earth to sink into.  Their chests expanded wider with each breath, trying to catch each other in the air around them to pull into their lungs and keep.

Will pulled back, nipping Louis' jaw.  "I dropped the bed, twice."  Nip.  "Survived both times."  A kiss on the chin.  "I'd like to see you achieve what my clumsiness and gravity could not."  

"That a challenge?"  Louis bent his head down, pressed his lips around Will's Adam's apple, and sucked.  

Will moaned, his voice buzzing against Louis' mouth.  Louis pulled Will in by the shoulders as he leaned back further onto the desk, and then focused on the light.  In a breathless flash, they both sat on the desk, just short of three inches tall. After a moment to orient themselves, and calm down enough to get to their feet, they both ran to the door of the dollhouse.  

 The bed did not break. Though they tried.  

 They collapsed under sheets of light silk, catching their breath as sweat cooled on their aching bodies. Will had been wise to include a wash basin, thought Louis.  He didn't want to go all the way to the bathroom for a washcloth.  

&&&

Will tucked himself into the curve of Louis' body.  "So... home sweet home?"  

"Maybe." Louis leaned down and kissed right below Will's sternum, tasting heated skin.  "I've got a home here too."  

Oh, that blush would not go away for hours now.  

"Yeah, you do," whispered Will.  

A well deserved exhaustion overtook them.  

 Louis woke before Will. Making sure Will kept dreaming, Louis scurried out of the house and over to the side of Rachel's desk that still held the cabin.  To the side lay the pile of extra frills that had come with the DIY house; bits of potted plants, fake books and posters.  He picked up a piece of thick printed cardstock about the size of a large postage stamp, and carried it back to Will's house.  It had been a miscellaneous bit of inspirational word art one could find in any furnishing or poster aisle at a craft shop, but it seemed very appropriate.

"Where there's a will, there's a way".

Louis set it by the front door of the new house and then went back in.  He would see if Reese had put anything in the tiny fridge that could help construct a breakfast in bed.

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

 If you enjoyed this short, consider buying me a ko-fi!  

[rogerblackwolf]

The Angel

Containment Facility 204

60 miles south of Fairbanks, Alaska.

-Modern Day-

A single black Osprey VTOL flew over the snow covered land, a full moon helping illuminate the nighttime sky. The winds caused some turbulence but the pilots were experienced enough to handle it, the single passenger however found it to be a little rough. The passenger shifted in her seat to look out the window at the expanse of white land and the mountains they were heading towards, in the distance she noticed some dark clouds which the moon helped outline. Another gust of wind shook the Osprey, and before long the snow began falling again, thankfully their destination was in sight. The lights of the mountainside were like a Christmas tree, lighting the way for them to land, the Osprey's twin engines slowly turned upward allowing for it to land on a massive helipad. Once on the ground the woman grabbed her two suitcases and got blasted by the cold air as the ramp was dropped.

A couple of men in uniforms immediately came up to her and got her to a waiting vehicle nearby. They drove from the helipad and into an open illuminated tunnel, just as the snow began to fall. A perk of getting stationed in Alaska during the winter months. The first thing she noticed upon entering the mountain was the massive interior hanger which held several other Ospreys. The car then drove down another tunnel and stopped at a service entrance for the personnel.

"Now ma'am, go inside to the front desk, they'll show you where to go." The driver said.

"Thank you. I appreciate the help." She said before grabbing her suitcases and heading inside. Once inside she was greeted by one of a pair of men at the front desk who stood and asked;

"Ms. Clark?"

"Yes. That's me." She replied, putting her hood down and removing her beanie.

"Do you have your ID badge?" The man asks

"Yes right here." Clark said, taking it out of her jacket pocket.

The man looked it over and checked against the file on the computer. 

"Please place your right thumb on this." He says whilst putting a small scanner on the counter. Clark obliged, taking her gloves off and placing her thumb on the scanner. After some more typing the man gave back her badge before asking her to follow him, leading her down a hallway to an elevator. Next to the doors was what looked like an electric lock where the man inserted his ID badge, once the light turned from red to green a hidden plate opened next to it, revealing a scanner with the outline of a handprint. The man put his hand in the outline, a line of light quickly ran the length of his hand before a green arrow pointing up above the doors lit up.

"When the doors close, put your badge into the lock, follow the instructions given and you'll be fine." He says.

"Thank you." Clark replies.

"Enjoy your stay, ma'am." The man said before walking away. A few moments later the elevator rang and the doors opened. Once inside, Clark put her ID badge into the lock and a hidden plate opened to her right revealing another handprint scanner and a retinal scanner. A small screen also lit up with a set of instructions; the first being 'Place right hand in the scanner.', once she did so, another instruction came onto the screen 'Look directly into the lens.' 

Clark looked into the lens and a pair of lights scanned both her eyes. When the lights stopped she blinked with relief, and the last instruction came on-screen 'Report to Dr. Malcolm on Level 4.' Clark pressed the number 4 button and felt the elevator beginning to descend. She unzipped her winter coat and undid her light brown hair which stopped at her shoulders. She took a deep breath, nervous of what would happen next since this was new to her. She glanced at her watch, 9:45 pm, not terribly late but she didn't ponder it as the elevator opened again, this time welcomed to a reception area that split into a couple of hallways. She was met by a receptionist, a young woman with auburn hair tied in a bun and dressed in formal business attire, who happily showed her to Dr. Malcolm's office. The women entered as the man inside was in the process of putting some files away and locking the cabinet. Dr. Malcolm was easily six feet tall, had long blonde hair with some grey mixed in that was tied into a ponytail, clean shaven with an angular face, and dull grey eyes. He also had faint bags under his eyes, probably not the type of man to get much sleep.

"Ms. Clark, welcome to Containment Facility 204." Dr. Malcolm said, shaking her hand firmly before leaning against his desk.

"Thank you, Doctor." Ms. Clark said standing in front of him.

"My name is Dr. Howard Malcolm, I am the Head Researcher and Overseer for this facility. I'm sure you have many questions but I'm also sure you are tired so I'll show you where you'll be staying and get you settled. Shall we?" He asks, leading the way out of his office and holding the door for her. Clark followed him down a hallway and up some stairs to another hallway where there were multiple doors on both sides with room numbers. They stopped at a room near the end of the hall and Clark noticed the lock required a key card.

Dr. Malcolm stepped aside letting her do the honors. Clark inserted her badge and entered, being welcomed with what looked like a high-end hotel room. It had a full sized bed, a bathroom with a shower, a small living area with a tv and workspace, and even a kitchen with a fully stocked fridge. It was devoid of decorations but that could be fixed in due time. Clark put her suitcases at the foot of the bed before taking her heavy coat off.

"Make yourself at home, and in the morning we'll get you set up for your job here, anyway I'll leave you to it. Goodnight Dr. Clark." Dr. Malcolm said, closing the door before she could reply.

Dr. Clark quickly got acclimated after a simple dinner and getting unpacked. Without much else to do she decided to go to sleep even if she was still a bit nervous.

Awakened by her alarm, Clark stumbled out of bed and made some coffee before taking a quick shower and having some toast. She then got dressed in a plain blouse, skirt that went past her knees, plain black flats and some light makeup, first impressions and all. She got a knock at her door as she put on her lab coat and attached her badge.

"Yes?" She asked through the door.

"It's Dr. Malcolm." 

Clark opened up to the man who waved with a smirk.

"Morning Ms. Clark, How was your first night?" He asked.

"Good. I was about to come and find you actually." She said

"Well, if you're ready I'll give you the tour and get your security clearance settled." He said.

Clark nodded before following Dr. Malcolm through the halls of the facility. They passed multiple other Researchers and men in security uniforms, the researchers carried files and iPad devices but they still managed to wave or say a morning greeting. Before long, Clark and Malcolm arrived in the main control center where she was given an iPad that, among other things, showed a map of the level she was on. She noticed how it was rather Labyrinthine in design, but with the map handy she'd adapt with time. Dr. Malcolm explained how the facility housed many creatures that resembled folkloric creatures but each was unique in a way. Each of the creatures were separated by level as were the researchers who studied them. Dr. Malcolm introduced the head of security, a tall imposing man with broad shoulders and short black hair named Andrew, to Clark. He asked her for her ID badge which he told her was only a temporary one, he showed her to an area with a camera and a blue screen. Andrew took her picture, a couple minutes later, she had a new ID badge and finally turned a mic toward her.

"Ok, last thing, speak your full name and credentials." Andrew said pressing a button on the desk next to the mic.

"Dr. Amelia D. Clark, PhD in Philology." She said.

Andrew then typed on the computer before speaking again;

"Ok, the software now recognizes you as part of the staff. Congrats." He said with a smirk.

"Thank you." Clark replied.

"Now onto the reason you are here. Follow me please." Dr. Malcolm said, having Dr. Clark follow him as he walked and talked;

"Dr. Clark, you were selected out of a roster of one hundred and fifty individuals, and only your credentials stood out the most. Received your Master's from the University of Pennsylvania, top of your class, and you did your field study at the British Museum and the Louvre. All impressive." Dr. Malcolm said.

"Well yes...so where am I gonna be placed, and why was I chosen?" She asked

"You'll be placed with Research Team 18, they're looking into one of the creatures stored here. One that's quite...unique." Dr. Malcolm said.

They came to a room with a few other researchers working on a number of different artifacts. On one table was a tablet covered in writings that looked like some form of cuneiform, another had an ornate dagger covered with similar symbols along its edge, and the two last tables had many jewelry pieces from a necklace and rings to bejeweled bracelets. One Researcher came up to the duo, an older man with balding hair and some grey peach fuzz on his face but he still seemed  able for his age.

"Dr. Clark, this will be your lead researcher Dr. Luke Allen. Dr. Allen, meet our latest addition, Dr. Amelia Clark." Malcolm introduced.

"Oh yes, the new linguist." Dr. Allen said, extending his hand to her.

"I'm actually a Philologist sir." Amelia replied, shaking his hand firmly.

"What's the difference?" Allen asked.

"A Linguist studies languages spoken today, including dialects used by small populations, while a Philologist studies ancient texts and the evolution of ancient languages a linguist would consider "dead" languages because they only exist in writing, like Sanskrit, Old English, and Old High German." Amelia explained.

"Well then, what language did you study?" Allen asked.

"My focus was Assryiology." Amelia answered.

"If you would, I'm certain our guest is awake by now. And I think it's safe to say that Dr. Clark likes a challenge on her first day." Dr. Malcolm said, looking at Amelia.

"Well, I guess no time like the present." Amelia replied.

"Alright. Good luck." Dr. Malcolm said before taking his leave.

Dr. Allen escorted Amelia through a couple of corridors and down a hallway with several contained creatures. The cells themselves were made of impact resistant metal and the doors looked like glass but it let out an electrical pulse when touched. In one cell was what resembled a massive feline with a wolf-like head that paced back and forth snarling at the researchers as they passed. Another cell had a polar bear but it was larger and had bony horns protruding from its body. It took a swipe at the door before getting a powerful shock that made it recoil. 

Dr. Allen showed her to a quieter passage that held some of the more docile creatures, like a supersized elk that reminded her of a Megalocerus and an overgrown bison that appeared to have bony plates on its head and shoulders. While amazed, Amelia was surprised when they arrived at a pair of heavy doors with a hand scanner next to them. Dr. Allen scanned his hand and the doors began unlocking before opening, Dr. Allen stepped in first followed by Amelia. Inside was a circular room comparable in size to Amelia's room, it had stacks of books, magazines, even DVDs and CDs. In four corners of the room were cameras, one of which focused on the researchers as they entered. There was a bed in the corner that had been made and a TV playing a popular show on the opposite end, what surprised her more was the one watching it. The figure turned off the TV, setting the remote aside before standing to turn towards the duo.

He was humanoid, easily seven feet tall, dressed in a gold and white robe with vestments draped over his shoulders, and smooth, tanned skin with golden hair that showered down his back. He also had a pair of feathered wings that sprouted from his back. Amelia was first stricken by how handsome he was but then saw he was hovering in place.

"Good morning Dr. Allen." He said.

"Good morning Subject 11572. This is our new addition." Dr. Allen replied.

The humanoid turned to Amelia and extended his hand to her. Amelia took it and began to introduce herself.

"Hello I'm-"

"Dr. Amelia Clark, PhD in Philology, graduated from the University of Pennsylvania. Among other things." He said.

"Uhm." She responded.

"Yeah he does that. Anyway, this is Subject 11572, we often refer to him as the Angel for obvious reasons." Dr. Allen says nonchalantly.

"Apologies if I overstepped." The Angel said.

"Oh it's fine, I'm just starting to get used to things here." Amelia chuckled. The Angel smirked in response.

"Dr. Clark will be responsible for studying you from now on. I'll be monitoring the interview from the observation room. Good luck." Dr. Allen said, taking his leave.

Amelia nearly protested but figured this could likely be a test so she took a deep breath and turned back to the Angel.

"May I offer you a seat?" He asked, hovering to the side to offer a couple of chairs.

"Sure. Thank you." She said taking a seat just as the Angel followed suit. 

Amelia pulled up the file on the Angel and read some details while the Angel sat patiently, she couldn't really gauge his emotions if he had any to begin with. She finally spoke by reading off his bio.

"This file says you were found in 1976 on one of the Aleutians. How'd you arrive there?"

"I chose to come to your world as an ambassador. The portal sent me to the islands, I was found by the local tribesmen who welcomed me with food and drink. Your agents found me, I surrendered and I've been here ever since." He responded.

"Ok, how did you know my name and credentials without me or Dr. Allen telling you?" She asked.

"I am able to tell a lot about a person by reading their aura." He says

"Aura?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.

"All humans have an aura, a byproduct of the magical lifeblood that exists in all Creation. I can see and gain a basic understanding of a person by simply reading it, such as if they are good or hold other intentions. However by physically touching a person I can see many more details, like their name, family, etcetera." He explains.

"What did you sense from me and Dr. Allen?" Amelia asks.

"Dr. Allen hides no ulterior motives but he has his own problems like many humans. He is trustworthy despite being easily irritated. Your aura is nervous but good, you're worried you won't do a good job. Perhaps due to your past experiences of clumsiness." The Angel speculated.

Amelia blushed in embarrassment before continuing. 

"So do you have a name? Or are you ok with being referred to as "Angel"?" She asked.

"My name is inscribed on the tablet I brought with me, I cannot tell you it though. And for the sake of simplicity, I've allowed myself to accept the moniker." He says. 

"Why can't you tell me your name?" Amelia asks curiously.

"Telling you my name creates a bond that cannot be easily broken, and allows you access to my knowledge. However, the cost for such knowledge could overwhelm your mind to the point of insanity, if it doesn't destroy you outright. By learning my name, that is a sign that you could stand a chance of surviving and retaining what I show you." He says.

"Sounds simple enough." Amelia said with a nervous chuckle.

The Angel chuckled with her and she caught him with a faint smile, she blushed in response.

The interview went on for roughly another hour before Amelia was called to conclude it. She thanked the Angel and exited the room meeting with Dr. Allen as the doors shut and locked behind her. Amelia then asked Dr. Allen to show her the tablet, when they got back to the research room, Amelia began studying the object. It was 12 inches tall, 6 inches wide, half an inch thick, had rounded edges, and looked like it was made of some metallic alloy but it was considerably lighter. Etched into its surface were symbols that covered only the front side, they resembled the writings of ancient Babylon which gave Amelia a lead.

She downloaded scans of the tablet onto her iPad while also trying to see if she recognized any of the symbols herself. The other researchers helped by getting her some books and journals on cuneiform, and lots of coffee. Many hours passed and Amelia was only able to translate a few sentences talking about a great mission and a person to bring unity. Amelia finally decided to hit the hay and took her iPad with her to her room, she made a sandwich for dinner and showered before looking at the scan of the tablet. She finally decided to let her iPad go through the translation program through the night so she could get some sleep. 

The next morning, Amelia got up and went about her routine, just finishing her first cup of coffee when her iPad suddenly dinged. Upon opening it, the program had finished its translation, which excited her enough she immediately began reading. In essence the tablet spoke of a civil war between the forces of Creation, in the end the rebellion leader was cast from the realm along with his followers. The realm of Creation elected one of their own to go to the Earth so that he could teach mankind the importance of unity even among enemies. To see past the differences of one another and instead see what makes them human. 

The strange thing though was the last sentence was incomplete simply reading 'The Watcher has been chosen, he will be known to mankind by his given name of-' with the last word unable to be translated. Amelia got ready for the day and took her findings to Dr. Allen who, after reading the translation, told her to see if she could decipher it. As she poured through journal after journal, she grew frustrated due to not finding what she needed. As a result she sat at her desk staring blankly at her open books and iPad which had the untranslated word that vexed her mind. Suddenly it came to her.

The word consisted of six letters not just Babylonian but each letter was from a different language of the region. One was from the Sumerian language, another from Assyrian, and Amorite. She wrote out the letters in order, finding them to make sense as she translated them down to the English alphabet. Finally it spelled a name she could read but, despite her eureka moment, she didn't want to reveal it just yet. She went to Dr. Allen, who then took her to see Dr. Malcolm, and needless to say he was surprised by her discovery.

"I think we should consult our guest." Dr. Malcolm said, leading them to the holding cell. This time the Angel was reading a book with a hard cover and a title in Italian. He closed it before standing to greet the trio as the door closed behind them.

"Doctors Clark, Allen, and Malcolm. How are you all this day?" He asks.

"We believe that we have finally translated your tablet, and your name, thanks to the work of Dr. Clark." Malcolm said.

The Angel's brow arched as he turned to Amelia.

"You believe you know my name?" He asked.

"I do, and though I am new here I also believe that these two can be trusted with your secret." Amelia said.

"For security purposes, this device was programmed with your name, whenever your name is said the device will distort it. Keep in mind though that my superiors will be able to hear the unaltered version. Knowing this, are these measures satisfactory?" Dr. Malcolm asked, showing a small recording device.

"They are." The Angel said after a moment of thought.

Once the measures were in place, Dr. Malcolm and Dr. Allen let Amelia take the lead. 

"Your name...is Anauel." 

The Angel, who was hovering in place, landed on his feet. His eyes had a glossy glow before but they now took on a more human color, that of a bright blue.

"You are correct." He said before he took a seat, the rest following suit.

"You have many questions, I will answer them as well as I can. No holding back." Anauel said.

[itgetsdarksometimes35]

Grace, Too one shot

18+

Pairings: Dark Steve Rogers x reader

Summary: Following up with the reader from grace, too by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor 9 years later.

Warnings: Dub con, kidnapping, multiple pregnancies, children, brainwashing, lots of errors because I just wrote this and didn’t check for grammatical errors, that’s about it I think

A/N: Please be aware of the warnings, they’re there for a reason. Although this story isn’t really going in depth of what happened, I do suggest reading the actual story by the wonderful @darkficsyouneveraskedfor In fact, I’m not suggesting. I’m telling. Go read her stuff becaus it’s legit the best, don’t be dumb. This story couldn’t have been possible without Roo, and I love her so much for allowing me to do this. She really helped bring these dark thoughts I’ve always had out and she has helped inspire me. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy it! Make sure to give me feedback, it’s my first dark fic/fic in general! Without further ado:

Grace, Too

It has been 9 years. Three of which were spent locked in the basement because I couldn’t be trusted. During the time of the 3rd year I became pregnant. Not a glorious pregnant that you would see in tv, but the kind that makes you feel like you’re actually going to die. Pregnancy with a super soldier baby is regular pregnancy on steroids. Your back hurts 10x more, the kicks are more extreme and happen way before they normally should, and don’t even get me started on the morning sickness. All the while Steve was there being the most dutiful “husband.” We got married the 4th day. I kicked and screamed and punched and all it got me was a sore ass. He insisted I start cooking with the mini kitchen down in the basement. “Can’t trust you with the big guns yet” he had said while chuckling. I wasn’t much of a cook, the most I could afford, really, was ramen. Steve seemed angry at first about this, he face split for just a second before turning into the golden boy America knows and loves. “That’s okay, honey, I’ll get you a cookbook.” So I learned how to cook. It was a bumpy road but all the while Steve was encouraging, even when I totally bombed the food. He’d pat my leg and say “don’t worry you’re meant to succeed. There’s a reason I chose you, right?.” That smile of his I grew to despise. Partly because after a while I forgot what other smiles looked like on other people. Were they usually that perfect? I couldn’t remember. Another part was because I felt a tug at my heart, after a while, every time he smiled at me. I won’t say the tug was love, more like a tug that a prey would feel if it’s hunter found it to be too adorable to eat. I kept the basement spotless. Not very hard considering I only had a small kitchen with a stove, a mini fridge, a closet with utensils and food, a cooler that he filled with ice everyday, and a small counter; a sitting area with 2 chairs and a table (where Steve and I had dinner); a bathroom with a sink, toilet, small bath with legs, and a cabinet for storage; and finally a main room with a bed, and a tiny bookshelf with 3 books, aside from the 5 cooking books he got me. Steve told me I’d be rewarded with a new book every time I was good. I’ll tell you now, I only got 5 more books during those 3 years. I never really read the 3 books. Sure, my eyes glossed over them from cover all the way to the end, but I couldn’t tell you crap about Animal Farm or how it ended. Everyday he would come down after work and ask me how my day was, as if it could’ve possibly changed from the day before. He would inspect the small area I was forced to call my home, and he would smile with approval if it was up to his standards and punish me if they weren’t. The first few weeks were rough to say the least.

“Honey, you haven’t cleaned. You know what my expectations are.”

“Fuck you and you’re expectations. You’re batshit, you kidnapped me and you’re forcing me to be your wife! You need help!”

After that he’d put me over his knee and make me count. If I lost count he’d start all over. That’s the Steve I grew to know. Not the helping old ladies across the street Steve, not the I saved the world again Steve. The Steve that was broken down and tired from all the world threw at him was the one that kidnapped me. After checking to see if I did my chores, he then checked to see if his dinner was ready. One time I made a singular chicken leg. He didn’t find it funny. He didn’t hurt me often, unless it was sex or a spanking, but that day he slapped me in the face and yelled at me for being disrespectful.

“Don’t you see all that I’ve done for you? And you have the nerve to do this? Don’t be a bitch, y/n.”

“Please, Steve, just let me go.”

After that he realized what he’d done and held my crying form until I fell asleep. I woke up with an already made breakfast and an apology note.

After dinner we had sex. No, sex isn’t the right word. That would imply it was mutual, it wasn’t. But what other choice did I have? The first few nights I did try to stop him, but what’s the point? I’d wake up with bruises on my wrists from him holding me down tightly. So I just laid there. Sadly, he wasn’t too keen on that either. He’d just hit that one spot hard over and over until I was a moaning mess beneath him, begging for him. Begging for what, I still don’t know. Most times he’d make me cum over and over, just because he knew I had no other choice. He knew that I thought bed was my last source of self control; he made sure to show me that not even there I could escape the way he wanted me to feel, to think. After he was finally finished he’d roll over and pull me to his chest. We spent every single night together. He’d caress my face and push the hair out of my eye and give me such a lust blown stare.

“You know I love you, right honey?”

He wasn’t really asking

“Do you love me too?”

If I said no he’d climb back on top of me and either deny me orgasms until I was begging for him to let me cum or he’d make me cum until I was too weak to say anything but the banter of his name and “I love you, too”

The “wedding” was stupid. That’s the only word for it. Nobody was in attendance, except the spider in the corner, but he acted like there was a full house. He made me walk down an “aisle” that was really from the bathroom to him in the middle of the main room. I wore a white gown that looked like it was plucked out of a I Love Lucy episode with a pearl necklace that would make Audrey Hepburn squeal. The shoes were kitten heels that made me feel like I was walking on glass. He wore a plain black suit with a bow tie. He gave a speech and gestured to people not there and then motioned to me. I repeated some of his lines like “I knew it was love when I first saw you” and “I couldn’t be happier than in this moment.” Then he slipped the ring on, we kissed, we signed a paper, and then we danced. During which we both cried. He cried because his twisted fantasy was going his way and I cried because I realized the weight of what I’d just lost. My freedom, my job (even if it sucked), my chance at a real beautiful wedding with the wedding dress of my choosing and the man of my dreams. Most of all I wept for my future. Where was I headed?

I don’t know why it took so long for me to get pregnant. For a while I just thought we couldn’t. The serum obviously had a negative affect on his swimmers. I wasn’t going to suggest this, of course. Then he would find another way to get me pregnant, and I didn’t want that. I could handle the cleaning, the cooking, the persona of a perfect 1940’s housewife, but a baby? Before this I didn’t really know if kids were in my future, but now that I was in the situation that I was in I knew I couldn’t bring a baby into these living conditions. Born into a prison they can never escape from. Some part of me feared it was my fault. I swallowed this theory as well, this could be worse for me than the other one. If u were the problem what would Steve do? It wouldn’t be as easy as letting me go, I’ve seen too much of his true side. The fear ate me alive for 3 years, the entire time I suffered in silence just like I did everything else. Steve didn’t seem too upset about my lack of fertility, and if he was he didn’t show it. He was always so... chippy. Three years straight and never once did he get angry about the lack of a child. One day I was cleaning the room when Steve came in. I immediately jumped up while a cold sweat came down my body. Why is he here? I didn’t cook dinner yet, will he be mad? I don’t have on my housewife dress yet, it gets in the way of my cleaning. He strode in like he’d been given a raise.

“S-steve?”

He hummed but didn’t look up from the bag he had carried in and was now looking through on the kitchen table.

“Why are you home so early? I haven’t made dinner and I’m not dressed properly yet...”

“That’s alright, darling, I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?”

My heart fluttered at this. Was he going to let me walk outside? Or was it more of an object gift? Did he bring me a cell phone? Or a watch? The only way I could tell time was when he woke me up to tell me he was leaving and that he needed a kiss goodbye. I knew I had a while before he got back but the actual time and date was lost on me.

He chuckled, again not looking up. “Well, two gifts actually.”

I start stepping closer, the anticipation killing me. He pulls out a box. He finally looks up and smiles at me. He pushes it towards me and says “open it.”

I do and inside is a onesie with a Captain America shield on it. Right next to it is a stick I’ve grown very accustomed to seeing with one line on it.

“Steve, I don’t understand..”

“I figured it’s been a while since the last time we checked. Why not give it another go, hm? I’m feeling lucky about this time.”

It was in that moment I became aware of everything in slow motion and HD. Was it always this hot in here? Is the basement really this small? Has the fridge always made such an annoying sound?

Steve walked me to the bathroom while I followed absentmindedly. I sat on the toilet and peed. It was in this moment I realized I couldn’t remember my last period. I also became freakishly aware that my stomach has been killing me for days and my boobs have been extremely tender. But I wrote them all off as being his fault. My breasts were because he was too rough in bed, my period being out of wack because I haven’t had contact with another female to sync up with (or maybe I just couldn’t remember because I had no sense of true time), and my stomach because I had been working tirelessly and I hadn’t seen the sun in years. As a timer on Steve’s phone, that I hadn’t realized he even pulled out, he immediately grabs the test. He grows a wicked smile and grabs me and gives me the tightest hug. Turns out it was his fault I was feeling the way I was feeling, it just had nothing to do with any of my theories.

After that he moved me upstairs. He made it such a big deal, I was just being moved from one prison to another. This prison was slightly nicer, though. He had a full kitchen that was bigger than the whole basement. A living room with a tv (I was on restriction from what I could watch but it was still better than those dusty books) A radio, that told me the time and gave me a date every morning (complimentary from man named Joshua Tucker that played the “best classics”). The biggest room in the house was the room I’d be sharing with Steve from now on. There were locks on the windows and doors that could only be unlocked by Steve’s handprint, but I at least got natural lighting up here. Down there all I got were a few dull lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling.

As Steve put it this meant more responsibility. More room meant more things to clean. He said he believed in me. He said I’d been a good girl lately and seeing as I’m not pregnant, I needed a better place to stay. He also mentioned that he wouldn’t hesitate to put me back downstairs if I didn’t behave. I believed him and decided that up here was better. So I behaved. He gave me prenatal to take and another medicine to help with my body’s pains. He was less rough with me in bed but he still had that edge to him. He always rubbed my growing belly, kissed it good morning and goodnight, and sometimes he would talk to it. Once I woke up to him reading to it. It was almost...normal.

One day while walking (more like waddling) around the house with my 3 month belly that, thanks to the serum, made me look 7 months. I came across a room I hadn’t been in yet. Steve didn’t introduce me to it so I hadn’t felt the need. I was ahead on my chores and the radio said I had a few more hours before I had to start dinner, so I let myself in. I figured if I were to get into trouble for going inside I would just tell Steve that I was trying to clean it, although lying with him was never my strong point. Inside was a nursery. A black toy car ford was in the corner, big enough for a toddler to ride around in. The crib was gray with a stuffed bear inside, the walls were a gray color, matching the crib, with a white accent wall. There was a changing table and the closet was open spilling at the seams with clothes. There was a toy box and a million picture frames that were yet to be stripped of their generic photos of a happy family. I knew this day would come, where would the baby sleep? It nonetheless freaked me out. It was too real. I was pregnant. I was locked in the house like a prisoner. My baby was now going to be a prisoner. Did Steve want a boy? Everything was a generic boy theme. There was even a photo album on the table that said “daddy’s little boy.” What would happen if it were a girl? I quickly leave the room shutting the door behind me. I look down the hallway and realize there’s several other rooms I hadn’t been in. Were they always there? How big could this house get? There were at least 7 other rooms and every one of them was a nursery. One was a boy nursery another was a girl, there was even a twin themed nursery. This was just baby number one.

By the time it was time for me to give birth, I was so big I couldn’t see a good 2 feet directly below and ahead of me. My hips hurt, my back hurt, my feet hurt. If I would’ve felt several kicks I would’ve said I was pregnant with quadruplets. I knew it was just a single birth, though. I always felt two feet kicking me on one side. I had no actual medical care, Steve said I didn’t need it. He said his grandmothers had given birth to both his parents at home with no problem and during their entire pregnancy hadn’t seen a doctor once. I gave birth on our bed. I felt like I was pushing for hours and the pain was the worst thing I had ever felt. Steve delivered the baby. He was a healthy looking baby boy, to which he named after himself. He had my laugh and my smile but his father’s everything else. Steve was right to name him after himself. The next pregnancies went the same way, none of them getting easier. Sarah was next, she was a spitting image of me, but she acted like Steve’s mother (or so he says). Next came the twins Peggy and Joseph, then Mary-Ann then Virginia-Lynn. I had no say in Sarah’s and Stave’s names but I chose the others. He did give me a list I was told to chose from, but I got the final say nonetheless. We filled up the house pretty quickly.

Now here I sit, pregnant, while Steve helps the kids open their presents. I made hot cocoa while the kids and Steve were out playing in the snow. I was allowed out while pregnant with Sarah, Steve said it was good to have fresh air while pregnant and Steve Jr was getting a little stir crazy while being kept in the house all day. I never tried anything, where would I go? What would I do? Who would believe me? It was better to just sit there, look pretty, while pregnant with my husband’s children. All with grace, too.

@jtargaryen18

[dokuhebi]

ℒ Pulling them into a hall/alley to kiss them passionately. / Kabuto, femme fatale B)

Acts of Affection. Send in a symbol from YOUR muse to see how MY muse will react to yours! ℒ  Pulling them into a hall/alley to kiss them passionately. // @raichoose​ Tall champagne glasses clank and chime when knocked together, dim yellow and white lights casting shadows on the guests, guests dressed to the nines, guests chattering and laughing, their voices climbing higher in volume to compete with one another and the music. There are so many people, so many sights, so much to do, see and entertain themself with. But amber eyes search the room, in their ever subtle and vixen like manner, for a particular sight, a particular guest, for a particular source of entertainment. Would it be too pitiful to say that when they can not find him, their ever witty detective, when no phantom shadow of a silver haired male with midnight eyes hidden behind black frames can be seen, that they suddenly feel they have wasted their time. Wasted their time coming here, wasted their time getting all dressed up. For there was only one man they cared to be sighted by, to the point that even when potential test subjects throw themselves at the serial killer, they barely even notice the opportunity. To what extent had his enchantment hexed them? To have the hidden assassin in the room not even spy an opportunity, to forget about their research. And how they swore to be married only to their work. A glance in the large gothic window shows them their own reflection, a faded grey cast over their figure as if they are but a portrait in the window turned mirror. A black dress wound around a svelte figure, jewelry the detective had once glanced at during a conversation and they had read as admiration, long black hair held half in to bun, while the rest tumbles down their back, hiding the pale skin that peaks out from the dress itself. They aren’t even finished their drink, when they put it down on an empty tray a passing server is carrying. Leaving the champagne they had been nursing, it remains the only mark of evidence they had been here, as the smudged coat of lipstick now stains the rim of the glass. They are asked by multiple familiar faces why they are leaving so soon, and they offer the same lukewarm answer, “I’m not feeling well,” a quick excuse to abandon the event they had only agreed to when they thought he would be attending as well. They had been digging through their bag, elegantly strung from their shoulder, oblivious for a moment to the street they have just traded the party venue for, when suddenly a slender arm feels a hand link around it. They are startled for a mere moment, their hand still halfway submerged in their bag, when their back is pressed against the wall and their eyes meet that stunning and sought out midnight. They had in that split second, pulled from their bag a needle, holding a rather strong tranquilizer. They hide it at their side when they realize they don’t need a makeshift weapon - a rather suspicious defense weapon of all things given the current serial killer wandering the streets. The needle is held just behind them, as a devilish smile rises to their lips. Lips that soon meet his, as they allow their free hand to slip around the back of his head to bring him nearer. Deepening a kiss they could see lingering in his gaze, nipping at his tongue after coyly encouraging him to explore their mouth with it. They lose themself rather steadily to the impromptu kiss, hesitant to pull away, unsure if they truly needed breath more than they needed this. So lost in fact, they forget the needle in their hand and how sharp his eyes are, how perceptive he is, how handling anything even remotely close to the last crime scene is probably a red flag. The needle drops to the floor, as they place their hand on to his waist after tracing it down his side, nails clawing at his shirt, as they finally draw back to offer him a pleased smile. “You chose an auspicious time to find me dear, the party is dreadfully dull, I was hoping for more... beguiling entertainment,” they say, bringing their hand that had cradled the back of his head around to wipe away a stain of red lipstick now left behind on his lips. Careful their nails don’t scratch him, as they use their thumb to wipe his mouth with a most coquette gaze. Only for their gaze to flirtatiously trail down his form, spotting their forgotten needle in the process. When he almost follows their gaze, or their hidden panic tells them he might, they lightly grip his jaw to force him to look at them, then slightly to the side as they lean forward to kiss his neck, “these streets aren’t safe at night,” they say, lining the curve of his neck with two, three, four kisses, the fifth matched by the prick of teeth, “don’t you think it would be the decent thing to do, to walk me home?” As if they are not the most dangerous person on these streets, as if a small stature and delicate build has ever stopped them from ripping out hearts - both with the ability to render a grown man tongue tied and dejected when they play their verbal games, and when they surgically decide to take that organ out to see how it works for themself. “If you do, perhaps I’ll do the decent thing as well, and invite you inside,” they purr suggestively against his ear, before slipping their hand in to his and stepping in to him, so that they can in one fluid movement twirl around his form and force him to follow the movement. Now facing the street rather than the wall and their discarded weapon.

[diedieri]

WIP - Unfinished- Holiday Brickercup (that sounds like a cookie)

So I really really wanted to get this finished the for Holiday but..Kinda lost steam.

I loved the idea of fluff n smut and I was like I need to get some Brick and Buttercup action so it doesn’t bleed too much into the main fic (LOLOLOLOL WELP)

so...this is unfinished, it’s a one shot, who knows maybe I’ll feel motivated later. I had a whole vision for this and for a Butch x Buttercup one shot too

alas...

I legit have not reread a damn word of this.

Little ficlet under the cut. I guess a bit of a warning-- i love all the dumbass holiday movie tropes. xDDDD;; so that’s what this (and the other) were supposed to be. Self indulgent lol  WHEN AM I NOT YOLO.

If motivation does hit me, i will prolly put the finished product up on AO3

happy holidays merry christmas, mask up and stay safe

Christmas.

 Cookies. Presents. Families. Snow. And escape plans.

 Year after year, Buttercup had told herself she was going to skip it. Tell her family oh sorry, she had other plans. Every year, she came closer than the last. Last year had been that final straw. Buttercup, the only single sister watching everyone laugh and clap at the serendipitous surprise of both Blossom and Bubbles being proposed to. Buttercup was happy for them, and hateful for every family gathering to follow. Every time her sister’s promised they knew a girl, they knew a guy, that she would just love if she gave them a chance!

 Buttercup hadn’t been looking for love or waiting for it. There was a city to save. Work to be done.

 So this Christmas, she had a plan. From Halloween on she’d been dropping hints and planting the seeds of her having someone to see. Being late due to a date. At last when Blossom proposed the time the meet at the house, Buttercup laid out her cards.

 ��Oh, this year I’m actually going out of town! It’s nothing, big…Just.” She had to downplay it and let her sisters assume it was her pride getting in the way. They were elated and made her swear next year she’d insist the plans be back at the Professors.

 It would have been just as easy to stay home in her apartment to play out her rouse. The more Buttercup had begun to imagine her would be date, the more she had decided to be accurate, incase anyone asked questions. She’d tell them which cabin she was going to, how cold it was going to be. She researched every night until one day she had done it. She booked a cabin from a small mom and pop place. They had pictures on their website but you had to call to make reservations.

 What would Christmas be without a little self-indulgence? Wine, lingerie, bathbombs, and cookies were all on the list. It was her first vacation ever, the first ever alone at least. Bubbles had given her a gift just for the trip, a freshly knitted scarf and cap. Blossom bought her an expensive leather jacket. The professor got her doc martins. The guilt bled in a little. Only a little. She need the time away. To feel good and sane again. The distance would help her love her family and not strangle them.

    “Ms. Utonium! You’re. Here.”  The disappointment had never been more obvious. Buttercup barely got in the door, she hadn’t been able to shut it quick enough without letting snow blow in. Even her vision had been questionable in the brewing snow storm. Her cheeks were red and fingers nearly frozen shut around the handles of her duffle.

 “Yeah,” Buttercup didn’t smile to met the woman’s nervous countenance. She was portly and rosey cheeked, though Buttercup would argue it was more flustered than natural. She set her bag at her feet. A distance from the counter.

 “Oh sweetie,” Her distance instantly recognized, “I didn’t mean anything by it, it’s just. Well.” She shuffled from behind the counter, her hands wiped over her apron hand stitched with an abundance of Christmas decorum. It matched the check in cabin nicely. Two trees. Real pine. A burning fire place. There were presents neatly placed under the pine and stockings stuffed to the brim. The lights on this cabin had been a dead give away when she wasn’t sure where to check in.

 “You see with the storm coming, folks haven’t been checkin’ out. I couldn’t kick them out without a plan on Christmas. And with the planes grounded, I didn’t think anyone else would be coming in.”

 At the mention of anyone else Buttercup turned completely to the red couch just behind her, another guest with a long black coat and red cap. If there had been any surprise he had since collected himself and left Buttercup alone to flounder.

 Brick. Rowdyruff Brick was sitting with crossed arms staring her down. Of course the only two people with super powers had braved the storm and made it up to the mountain.

 “Well darlin, you see, we have one cabin left.”

 “So you gave it to him?” Buttercup asked with a snap, eyes still on Brick. If there was anything a Ruff could manage to take from a Puff it was their happiness. Buttercup’s one holiday she’d given herself. The chance to be without ridicule and out from under a microscope, the only one single and alone—her perfectly planned cottage get away. Stolen.

 “No.” Brick answered for her. “She wanted to be sure no one was coming.”

 “Goodness gracious,” The woman fanned her face despite the chill. She’d said it like a swear and the tone had Buttercup turning her back on Brick. Somehow she suspected this woman rarely swore and her meltdown would be a bigger threat than Brick.

 “Hey, Ma’am its—”

 “We know each other,” Brick cut in. He stood shoulder to shoulder with Buttercup, a visual representation to calm the ailed woman. “We can split it.”

 “What?” The hostess and Buttercup asked together.  

  “But she’s,” a she, the woman might have said.

 “I can handle myself lady.” Buttercup stomped out the fear without batting an eye. The point of this vacation was to be alone, right? If Brick had come this far away from Townsville it had to be no different than her.

 “Is that alright?” Her cheeks were less fire engine emergency and more Jack Frost had nipped at her cheeks. Buttercup made fists in her pockets and damned the will of the people.

 “That’ll be just fine.” Hardly. “Brick is a real gentleman. Righty Bricky?” She had been queuing up for a pack mule joke, but he had already shouldered her bag and taken the key from the Mrs. Klaus look alike.

 “Oh dearie, take this. You’ll need all the extra you can get.” She hoisted a bundle of logs with both hands, Brick took it with one. “Oh, goodness and why don’t you take this on the house. For the trouble. We normally host a Christmas party, a little raffle.” She gifted Buttercup with a blanketed basket.

 With the way Mrs. Klaus had been apologizing, Buttercup had been expecting the worst pick of the lot. Brick, drove their rented car slower than she’d ever seen him move up the twisted Mountain Road. It was farther than the other cabins. Brick gestured to the crude map that had come with the key.

 “The Christmas Cottage. Really.” Buttercup snickered and noted the ghost of a smirk on Brick.

 “What do you expect? I booked the one on Rudolph road.”

 “I thought Snowflake Lane was winter themed.” It had been the cheapest of the bunch and even for her fake trips, Buttercup had kept to a budget.

 The outside was small, decorated modestly with lighted candy canes noting the start of the long driveway up to the cottage. They framed the walkway up to the door, keeping its guest on path. This far up the mountain and back into the wood, the snow had piled on high and thick. The candy canes barely had any light to them under the grey sky and hidden under blankets of snow.

 The chill was enough to have Brick and Buttercup moving quick. Neither dawdled over their situation and wanted to get in the cabin and warm themselves up. Brick fumbled with his things and the keys, he barely stepped in before back tracking to the car. He had thought a little deeper into the lodging, bringing multiple cooking supplies where Buttercup had a bag of goods to make pancakes, cookies, sausage, eggs, popcorn and frozen pizza. She thought about dining out one of the nights, she hadn’t thought about that being weather considering. Weather had played a very small part in her fantasy get away.

 Of course Brick had considered everything. Buttercup hung in the doorway, Brick maneuvering around her to set down the large yeti cooler. He shut the door behind them,

 “It’s warm.” He held out a palm. Buttercup kept hers tucked under her armpits. Her breathe wasn’t visible in the cabin and the chill closed behind them she thought anything might feel warm.

 “Stomp off the snow and kick off your shoes.”

 “I know how snow works,” Buttercup chirped and carefully undid the laces. As much as she loved the new kicks it was a relief to be out of them. The backs of her ankles were no stronger than anyone else’s when it came to breaking in new boots. She floated above the wood flooring to the cream colored carpeting.

 Brick turned on every light as he walked, carrying the cooler to the kitchenette first. Buttercup couldn’t believe her own gasp.

 The sharp ‘what’ died gently when he saw just what the switch had turned on. Every eve above the head was wrapped in white lights, the door frames lined with lighted garland and a tree just in front of the balcony, across from the dark fireplace. Blossom was a master interior designer, but Buttercup had never oo’ed and aw’ed like this before. It was a scene out of a movie, she was staring at a real life Christmas card. A red plush blanket tossed over the couch. Matching mugs on the wooden coffee table, Mr. and Mrs.

 “Oh shit,” Buttercup held one up, a packaged cocoa nestled neatly inside. “I guess this is why she sorry.”

 “Honeymoon suite.” Brick agreed and held up a bottle of champagne. “Oh. And there’s cake.” He read the card,

“A small wedding cake for the lovely Mr. and Mrs. Rudolph.”

 “You’re shitting me,” Buttercup floated behind him. The damn thing was even decorated with the two reindeer. Either the couple would have hated or loved this. Likely loved it considering their location of choice.

 “Well. Mr. Rudolph. We have cake.” Buttercup had no shame. Free wedding cake? She’d take the name if it came with a prize.

 “I bet there are more surprises, Mrs. Rudolph.”  His joke knocked a grin onto her face. Brick was snide and snarky. His remarks could cut as deep as his fist could punch. Something said without it being at the expense of any person was a bit of a surprise.

 “Should we see what else the happy couple left four our honeymoon?”

 “Wouldn’t that be stealing?”

 “We’re helping them not be wasteful. Come on.”

 “Go on, I’m going to start the fire.”

 “Oh because that’s such a challenge for you.”  Buttercup reached, her nail dragged from his collar bone and over Brick’s adam’s apple. Her sister was an ice breather and he had a belly of fire.

 “I don’t need to use shit to start a fire.”

 “Uh-huh, I’m sure you can.” Buttercup batted her eyes and walked down the hall, “I’ll turn up the heater. Don’t want to freeze out.”

 Buttercup didn’t really doubt the resourcefulness of the other. The boys had lived on their own, who knows what tricks each of them had picked up to sustain themselves. The banter was just another dialect, part of Buttercup’s language. A natural problem starter and shit stirrer.

[proxylynn]

Underfell: File Name not Edgy Enough #25

WARNING: I WANT NO RESPONSIBILITY OVER SPOILING THINGS FOR OTHERS. THAT BEING SAID, THIS IS HOW FILE NAME NOT FOUND WOULD FUNCTION IN THE AU OF UNDERFELL. BEFORE YOU READ THIS, UNLIKE THE NICE TIME OF UNDERTALE, THIS WORLD IS KILL OR BE KILLED. THIS STORY WILL BE GRAPHIC, GORY, USE SWEARS LIKE NOBODY'S BUSINESS, AND DEAL WITH SENSITIVE SUBJECT MATTERS. FOR EXAMPLE, THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVE READ THE FILE NAME RELOCATED SPOOF WILL KNOW HOW I PICTURE THIS VERSION OF LYNSIE COMING TO THE UNDERGROUND. IT IS NOT AN ACCIDENT. IT IS NOT BECAUSE OF SOMETHING DUMB. IT IS BECAUSE SHE CHOOSES TO END HER LIFE. SO TAKE THIS WITH A GRAIN OF SALT. I MADE IT BECAUSE I NEEDED TO LET SOME OF THIS EDGINESS OUT OF MYSELF. WHICH I GUESS MAKES UNDERFELL LYNSIE EVEN MORE TRUE TO WHO I REALLY AM. ANYWAY, ENJOY. ^_^

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

Hell hath no fury like this fish woman. For Undyne's rage casts a near-visible aura of hate as she stormed her way into Hotland. Clad in her special armor, keeping her form from dehydrating, she intimidates those that witness her barreling towards the Lab. With a mighty kick, she almost hurls the doors from their hinges before continuing inside. Knowing all too well where her intended target is. Cameras follow her movements but do little to warn their owner in time. Alphys receives the signal just as the echos of hurried stomps reaches her ears. By the time the doors are thrown open, Alphys has made the scene a little more authentic and hides away her more sketchy items. As one can imagine, the Captain of the Royal Guard is less than pleased to see a human being given treatment instead of having its soul collected.

"U-Undyne...W-W-What a surprise."

"Cut the crap, Alphys. How long have you known about it being in the Underground?! Why wasn't I informed?! And why, in Asgore's name, are you keeping that thing alive?!"

The disgruntled captain points at the unconscious human strapped to a bloody slab with several machines around her. Thick bandages cover the wounds given on-screen, the eerie beeps of the machines that are annoyingly loud in the silence, sticky liquid crimson softly dribbles from the slab edges to a small pool draining on the floor as tubes and wires are placed on vital areas. The scene looks like a medical mess. For what good it does to try, Alphys puts on a straight face and gets professionally cold to defend her work.

"Your Captain of the Guard status does not mean I report to you or have to inform you of anything."

The rage of Undyne only increases.

"What did you say?!"

Alphys adjusts her glasses, snidely flipping Undyne off with her middle finger.

"I am the Royal Scientist. I work under and report directly to the King himself. My rank supersedes yours. And as such, unless it is a matter that requires your assistance, I will inform only those that are needed to be informed. Understood?"

Undyne snarls beneath her helmet. This type of thing wasn't uncommon. She knows that Alphys separates herself when it comes to her work. Undyne does it too but tries not to be so obnoxious. It's moments like this that make her crush a little less on this lizard girl.

"But to answer your question...This human has been living in the Ruins for quite some time. Sans and Papyrus have been monitoring her for me."

The skeletons? Those sneaky bastards! She bet Papyrus was thinking he'd use this to one-up her.

"Why use them and not me?"

"Really? You can't stand the cold and they live there. It's a no brainer."

Good point.

"Okay...But why monitor? The law clearly states that the soul of any human is to be collected. No exceptions!"

Undyne summons a spear and readies to spike the human through the face. That is till Alphys moves over to the human and interacts with one of the machines, making her soul slowly emerge...it's white. This sight has the captain of the guard drop her weapon and remove her helm to ensure her eye was not playing a trick on her. Without her helm, the true visage of the Captain of the Guard is shown. Undyne is a piscine anthropomorphic monster. She has blue scales and a long red hair she keeps in a wild ponytail. Red and blue fins on the sides of her head act like ears, she has no nose to speak of. Her teeth are sharp yellow daggers like a barracuda or shark. She has red eye shadow and has an eye-patch on her left eye. Her good eye has a black vertical pupil and a yellow sclera.

"It's...White? What the hell? It was light blue on TV. I saw it!"

"We all did. And it was purple when I first examined her. This is why I've had her under severance and not executed. This human...It's not like the humans we've encountered or the ones in our texts. She seems to be able to change traits or possesses multiple traits."

"How is that possible? Is that even a thing? Is that a thing humans can do now?"

"I haven't collected enough data to determine that. My current theory is that she may be a random mutation, an evolutionary anomaly of sorts. Though, from the information I have gotten, it seems the humans of now have indeed fully lost their usage of magic."

"I thought those past ones seemed off."

"Yes. The previous humans were lacking in their levels of magic but they still possessed it. This one, however, according to my scans had no magic in her soul prior to coming to the Underground."

Scientist say what?

"Wait...What's that supposed to mean?"

Alphys pulls out what looks to be her cell phone and moves it over the soul, scanning till it beeps. She then shows the results to the Captain.

"There's at least 20% to 30% magic now resonating in her soul. Enough to trigger magic prepubescence."

Undyne snickers at the thought of such a thing and it nearly breaks Alphys's composure.

"You can't be serious."

"I am. I had to stabilize the flux with those patches we give out to teens. It's why she's about 30%."

"Dare I ask...How a non-magic soul suddenly has magic?"

"Not sure. Perhaps it's the nature of such a weak soul to pull magic when it can, however, it can. Be it from the surroundings, food, or contact with other beings of magic. Who's to say? Or her soul could be like a parasite and leeching magic for as of yet unknown reasons. I'm just throwing ideas at this point."

"So...What you're saying is the human is dangerous."

"All humans are dangerous, Undyne. But this one? *scoff* Since being down here her LV hasn't budged from its base level."

The Captain is intrigued.

"Has it not been in a fight?"

"Quite the opposite. There's plenty of telltale signs, not to mention video surveillance, that indicates she's been attacked."

"So the wimp flees? Pathetic."

"Sometimes. Most of the time they endure the fight and find a way to end it without fighting back."

A gruff laugh leaves the fish woman.

"Pacifism? Down here? Now that's a joke."

Alphys checks on a liquid-filled bag that's emptying into the human's veins.

"As dumb as it may be, her strategy is a good thing..."

She increases the dripping.

"By not attacking, she isn't killing anyone. And by not killing anyone, she isn't gaining LV. And you know what that means."

Undyne grins like a hungry barracuda.

"It makes it all the easier to collect the last soul."

Alphys nods and removes her glasses to clean them.

"Still...With the number of unknown variables, I'd have to insist on further study of this soul and not just yet bringing it to the King, even if she dies."

"How come?"

"Like I said, too many unknowns. If Asgore wishes to fuse with the seven souls it would be best to make sure this one doesn't overpower or corrupt his own."

"Hmmm...I guess that's fair. We don't need to waste the human souls and lose the King if we can help it."

"My thoughts exactly."

Alphys puts her glasses back on and steps away from the human.

"Come, Undyne. We must leave now."

Confusion comes to the Captain.

"What? Why? You're really going to leave her unattended?"

Alphys grows colder.

"Do not be so stupid."

Undyne had to bite her tongue hard.

"I never said she'd be alone."

With a simple button press on her phone, the sound of speeding rubber screeches towards them, the door opening seconds later.

"IS IT TIME? SHE'S IN STABLE CONDITION?"

Mettaton skids to a stop with excitement.

"She's stable. And under heavy sedation. You may proceed with the prep work."

Digitized giggling pours from the automaton.

"EXCELLENT. LADIES, IF YOU'LL EXCUSE ME..."

Undyne is ushered out by Alphys before she can question things.

"Um..."

"Don't think about it too much."

"But..."

"As they say...The show must go on. I suggest you stick around and watch what unfolds."

Undyne groans to herself.

"I'll make that spicy ramen that you like."

"...Extra chili flakes?"

"Yep."

"Hot damn!"

With the women gone, Mettaton turns his attention to the human on the slab.

"OH DARLING..."

A compartment opens on his side and he extracts what looks like a kit of some kind.

"WE HAVE SO MUCH WORK TO DO."

[AN HOUR AND A HALF LATER-BEHIND THE LAB]

The wall of the building opens up, a split door allows the heat of Hotland in while the unconscious human carried by the killer robot comes out.

"FINALLY...THE SHOW CAN COMMENCE ONCE AGAIN."

While two of his arms set the human down his other two open a bottle of smelling salts and wave it under her nose, slowly rousing her back to consciousness.

"WAKIE WAKIE, DARLING."

She groans in delirium and sits up. Medical grade sedatives really pack a punch.

"FOCUS DEAR. HOW MANY FINGERS AM I HOLDING UP?"

Mettaton holds up his four arms and each is displaying two fingers. Her head wobbles with dizziness and she rubs the sleep from her eyes.

"Mettaton? *yawn* Why is it so hot?"

Why did she have to be so cute when so messed up?

"I'LL ANSWER YOU IF YOU ANSWER ME."

She shakes her head clear and stares at him for a bit.

"Eight."

He sighs with relief and helps her up before patting her head.

"GOOD. YOU'RE PERFECTLY FINE."

"Not entirely sure that's what I'd call it after the game you made me do. But whatever. Least I ain't dead."

"THERE WE GO. ALWAYS LOOKING ON THE POSITIVE SIDE OF THINGS."

Her senses coming back, she looks at her form and begins growling at the mechanical television star.

"IS SOMETHING THE MATTER?"

"I'm going to ask this as calmly as I can and I want you to be honest...Did you dress me in my sleep?!"

In Mettaton's defense, it's not like he could leave her in her bloody outfit or the medical gown. And to his credit, he made it for her to be both fashionable as well as comfortable in Hotland's arid heat. A black zip back cutout crisscross cami top with MTT emblazoned in red across the chest, waist-high black garter shorts with tiny Mettaton studs along the straps, black ripped footless tights end in knee-high black riding boots that have red MTT zippers, and to add to her annoyance her nails were also painted red. The only normal thing about her was he kept her hair tied in a ponytail but moved it higher up to be more lively than her usual dead weight droop.

"TO BE FAIR, DARLING, YOU WERE A BLOODY MESS AFTER THE SHOW. IT WOULD BE TASTELESS TO HAVE MY CO-STAR CONTINUE IN ANYTHING LESS THAN THE BEST."

She gets flustered.

"That's not the point! You could've waited till I was awake and I would've dressed myself! Instead, you did so while I was vulnerable."

She shudders and looks away from him.

"To think...I started to like you."

An exclamation mark flashes on his screen.

"But it seems you're just as bad as the scum on the surface."

He panics and waves his hands in defense.

"W-WAIT A SECOND, DEAR, IT'S NOT LIKE THAT!"

"Then...Aside from seeing my frail body, do you deny the obvious usage of me as brand advertisement?"

The look she gives him is cold and hurt, making him flinch.

"UM...WELL...I..."

She turns around with her hands on her hips and smirks.

"We're not on camera right now, are we?"

His screen flashes in confusion.

"...NO? NO CAMERAS ARE ACTIVE AT THIS MOMENT. WHY?"

"Heh...Because you're being you right now. The same guy I got to know over the phone. TV you is more cold and sticks to the script, like a soulless machine. This you, the ghost in the shell, this guy I like and willing to work with."

He's caught off guard by that remark.

"UM...WHAT EXACTLY DID YOU MEAN BY THAT?"

"Which part?"

"GHOST IN THE SHELL."

"Oh, that? It's the name of a manga/anime series. The setting is a future where technology is so advanced that it becomes an existential crisis if souls can transfer over to pure machine bodies and if artificial intelligence can gain humanity through cyber-evolution. It's really deep."

"OH."

"It also is a play on the fact you're literally a ghost in a robot shell."

He flinches.

"W-WHAT? I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'RE..."

"Dude, don't lie. We're not on camera and Alphys already confirmed my suspicions."

He blanks for a moment sighing.

"WELL...BRAVO, DARLING. YOU'VE SOLVED MY GREATEST SECRET."

She shrugs.

"It's no big deal. And don't worry about anyone else knowing, I ain't a snitch."

"SUCH A CLEVER GIRL. I KNEW YOU'D BE PERFECT FOR THIS."

Her arms fold.

"While I was messing with you before, I am pissed about this."

"WHICH PART?"

"This! This isn't my style. It feels weird and shows way too much skin for my liking."

At this rate, he was lucky she couldn't see her reflection or she'd be pissed about how he did her makeup. Red eye-shadow to create a smoky effect on her eyelids. Mascara to make her long lashes even longer. A bold black swoop of liquid eyeliner all the way to the outer corners of her eyes and swept a little up at the end. And the pièce de résistance is the luscious red lipstick to make it all pop.

"BUT, DARLING, YOUR OLD CLOTHES WERE RUINED. BESIDES, WITH HOW THICK THAT FABRIC WAS, YOU'D DIHYDRATE IN MOMENTS OUT HERE. AND NO ONE WANTS A SWEATY DRIED OUT SACK ON SCREEN."

She leers.

"NOT SAYING YOU ARE ONE. MAKING THAT CLEAR HERE."

She sighs.

"I see your point. I ain't happy about it, but I see the reason behind it."

"GOOD."

She checks herself and gets upset.

"My items? Where are my items?!"

"I TOLD YOU, YOUR CLOTHES WERE A MESS AND I CHANGED YOU INTO THIS."

She grabs him.

"Metta, my buddy, I need my gear. My stats are crap without my items. Please tell me you didn't trash them...Please?!"

To understand her panic he checks her.

[Lynsie - LV:1 - HP: 40 ATK: 20 DEF: 11 - Too nice for her own good.]

Her HP increased? How? Her LV hasn't increased. Did she earn EXP in the game and recovery? Wait...The other stats are dangerously weak. Hmmm...This gives him a wicked idea. If his screen could grin it would be wide and twisted.

"OH HEAVENS NO, DARLING. YOUR POSSESSIONS ARE SAFE."

Her eyes light up.

"Sweet! Can I please have them?"

He grabs her waist and scoots her back from him a bit.

"UNFORTUNATELY, I DO NOT HAVE THEM ON ME."

"But...W-Where are they then?"

All four hands point out into the distance.

"YOU CAN HAVE YOUR ITEMS BACK...ONCE YOU MAKE TO THE NEXT FILM SET."

Her jaw drops.

"Dude! Are you freaking serious? Do we see the same stats? Because I'm fairly sure I can get one-shot killed out here."

"RELAX, DARLING..."

"Relax?! Says the guy that literally can't be hurt!"

He waves dismissively.

"AND THEY CALL ME DRAMATIC. LOOK, I CAN'T JUST GIVE YOU THEM BACK NOR CAN I TAKE YOU TO THE NEXT SET. YOU SHOULD KNOW THE REASON WHY."

She glares before pouting in defeat.

"The law requires you to still attempt to 'capture' me."

His screen flashes.

"BINGO! AND TO PROVE THAT I AM FOLLOWING THE LAW WHILE STILL WORKING WITH YOU, YOU WILL BE TELEVISED AS YOU MAKE YOUR WAY THROUGH MY SHOW GAUNTLET."

She looks at him funny.

"TO BE HONEST IT'S JUST NORMAL ENVIRONMENT AND PIPEWORK FOR THE CORE. BUT I DID ADD OBSTACLES AND PUZZLES, SO TECHNICALLY IT COUNTS."

Her funny look grows.

"And you film back there in all that?"

"IT MAKES MORE SENSE WHEN YOU SEE IT."

"I guess."

All four hands slap together in a loud clap.

"GREAT! NOW THAT THAT IS ALL SAID AND DONE, HERE'S THE DEAL. ONCE YOU TURN THAT CORNER AND BEGIN THE TREK, YOU'LL BE BACK ON TV."

"Okay."

"TRY NOT TO BREAK THE FOURTH WALL, WE DON'T NEED VIEWERS KNOWING YOU'VE BEEN HERE LONGER THAN ADVERTISED AND WITH THE HELP OF OTHERS."

"True, very true."

"AND SINCE YOU DON'T HAVE YOUR PHONE..."

"Can I get that back too? I swear I won't make calls."

"OR TEXT?"

"Did you even see my phone? It can't text or take pictures."

"HMMM...I'LL THINK ABOUT IT."

"Please and thank you."

"LIKE I WAS SAYING SINCE YOU DON'T HAVE IT AND MAY NEED HELP UNDERSTANDING A FEW OF THE MORE TRICKIER PUZZLES..."

On hand retreats into his body and pops out with a small clip-like earring that, you guessed it, looks like him.

"ATTACH THIS TO YOUR EAR AND YOU'LL BE ABLE TO HEAR MY MELODIOUS VOICE WHEN I NOTICE YOU'RE NOT PROGRESSING."

"Not that I'm against it, but isn't this cheating?"

He chuckles while bringing her close and clipping it to her right ear.

"DON'T THINK OF IT LIKE THAT. IT'S LIKE YOU SAID, YOU'RE WILLING TO WORK WITH ME AND WE BOTH DON'T WANT YOU DEAD. YOU'LL STILL BE GOING AT THIS ON YOUR OWN, BUT WITH A LITTLE LIFELINE THAT GIVES YOU CLUES AND NOT FULL ANSWERS. NOW DOES THAT SOUND MORE OKAY?"

"FANTASTIC!"

He spins around and shoves her to the ground before retracting his wheel to begin hovering.

"WELL, DARLING, THE NEXT WE MEET I HOPE IT TO BE SOON AND WHILE YOU STILL BREATHE."

"Um...Me too."

He takes off like a rocket to the next stage, kicking up dust and smoke in his wake.

"FAIR THEE WELL...!"

The cloud takes a bit to settle and the human finds herself alone. The path ahead is unknown but the only way to go. Somehow being behind the building she thinks she was held within and with no door to speak of insight. She silently prayed that her trust in the robot that abducted her was well placed...even though that thought made her question her ability to pick people to trust. Either way, her journey through game show hell begins now as she walks the lonely road that is way too narrow and high up for her liking.

[Snowdin: Skeleton House in present time]

Nothing. Nothing but re-run filler has been on the TV for hours. And all they could do was wait. Wait for any change on that damn picture box. Papyrus was doing his best to keep a worried Toriel and tense Grillby from burning the house down. Sans on the other hand was lost in his mind, retracing the history of his time in the LAB and its many rooms. Where were they hiding the human? What new rooms were added since he left? Could Alphys still be using the old underground facility?

*obnoxious fanfare*

The television cuts from its old showing to Mettaton live out in Hotland, on real clues can be seen as he hovers about the volcanic rock.

"SORRY FOR THE DELAY MY DEADLY GUYS AND DOLLS. SEEMS I WAS A BIT TOO ROUGH DURING OUR LAST GAME AND MY CO-STAR NEEDED EXTRA TIME TO RECOVER. GUESS I DON'T KNOW MY OWN STRENGTH."

His nonchalant attitude and words were far from comforting to the four.

"BUT FEAR NOT, AS SHE HAS MADE A FULL RECOVERY!"

A weight is lifted from the room.

"IN FACT, SHE'S ON THE START OF THE NEXT PHASE OF OUR SHOW. A DANGEROUS GAUNTLET OF OBSITCLES, DAUNTING PUZZLES, AND THE RANDOM VAGABOND THAT MAY OR MAY NOT JUST HAPPEN TO BE WANDERING AROUND."

The video feed shifts to the human on a conveyor belt. Merely scrolling along in a tacky outfit and makeup trying not to look down.

"The fuck is she wearing?!"

Grillby fumes. Toriel is equally unhappy about her daughter's new look. Sans rolls his eyes, finding it somewhat funny that Grillby is displeased by this when did way worse before.

"HER GOAL, REACH THE END TO BEGIN OUR NEXT SHOW SEGMENT. SHE WILL REPEAT THIS TWO MORE TIMES BEFORE ENDING WITH OUR FOURTH AND FINAL ENCOUNTER."

That doesn't sound good. The feed zooms in on her.

"WILL SHE SURVIVE AND EARN HER LIFE TO LIVE FOR ANOTHER DAY? OR WILL THIS BE THE DAY THE LAST SOUL IS COLLECTED? WE SHALL FIND OUT SOON ENOUGH. IN THE MEANTIME, I NEED TO AQUIRE A FEW ODDS AND ENDS, SO I LEAVE YOU TO OUR DARLING'S DARING DO. ENJOY."

The camera switches to a different angle and continues to follow her. Before the words can even leave Papyrus's mouth Sans is already shaking his head.

"i still don't know where that is."

"ARE YOU SURE?"

"trust me, i don't recognize where she's at."

"Don't you have a post in Hotland?"

Grillby points out much to Papyrus's puzzlement.

"YOU HAVE A POST IN HOTLAND?"

Sans sighs.

"it's like i told ya, i do more than ya think i do. i have posts at the start of snowdin forest, waterfall's beginning, level two of hotland, and i am the one that waits in the judgment hall."

Papyrus is even more confused but Toriel starts to broil.

"You...You were the one all along, were you not?"

Sans balls his fists, bracing for this.

"You were the one that killed the humans that left the Ruins."

No Tori...not all...just one...over and over again.

"no. i haven't killed anyone."

That gave her some relief. But more questions.

"Then if not you, who does harm them?"

"asgore does."

And that killed it. Her eyes sink with a flame, one of hate and despair. It's painfully obvious. She's going to snap.

"ya should know he doesn't take pleasure in doin' it."

Her expression falters.

"it's a lot of weight on that old goat's shoulders. what with bein' a king and everyone expectin' him to solve all our problems, like breakin' the barrier. it's one thing to kill someone that's wronged ya. it's much harder to look an innocent in the eyes and end them."

She frowns, seeing some truth in his words.

"ya may hate his guts, but he's harborin' the biggest burden. bein' the one to harvest the souls."

"But..."

Does she still wish to fight?

"But the law states humans are to be killed on sight, right? You can not tell me the Guard has not spilled blood in all this time!"

"ACTUALLY..."

Papyrus chimes in.

"WHILE IT'S TRUE, THAT IS THE BLUNTEST FORM OF THE LAW, IT'S NOT THE EXACT WORDING. *AHEM* IF A LIVING HUMAN IS FOUND IN THE UNDERGROUND THAN THEY ARE TO BE ENGAGED AND CAPTURED. EXTREME CAUTION AND VIOLENCE IS TO BE USED IN THE APRENTION OF HUMAN SOULS. NOWHERE IS IT SAID WE ARE TO KILL ON SIGHT. BUT THE CURRENT CAPTAIN OF THE GUARD HAS INTERPRETED THIS LAW IN HER OWN WAY AND INFORCES IT AS SUCH...DEATH TO ALL HUMANS. NO EXCEPTIONS. OVERTIME, THAT'S HOW THE LAW EVOLVED TO BE KNOWN TO THE PUBLIC."

"Why?"

"captain undyne lost her family in the war. that kind of wound doesn't heal easily. it didn't help much that the hammer of punishment took her in as his own."

That name struck a chord.

"Gerson? I suppose that does make sense. He was ruthless in his prime. And he left our court when we choose to surrender. Said we were showing weakness by giving in. So many were already lost...We wanted to end the slaughter before the dust count became unrecognizable."

"seems that spite got passed on in undyne."

"OUR CAPTAIN GOES BY ANOTHER...THE SPEAR OF PUNISHMENT."

Her worry overcomes any animosity she held.

"I pray my child never encounters your Captain."

One can only hope.

"Shit..."

Grillby gets their attention.

"She's been spotted."

Eyes return to the television and the footage shown. The human had passed the large system of conveyor belts going forward and backward. Exhaust ports of vermilion flame burst from nearby pipes in the background, the wooshing sound of steam and cogs adding to the scenery. Reaching the end of the conveyor belts, the human comes into view of several small islands surrounded by boiling lava. Most of these islands hold steam vents. However, the human is unaware of this due to being blocked by a Tsunderplane.

[HOTLAND: LEVEL ONE]

Damn this heat. Damn this plan of yours, Mettaton. And damn this odd-looking monster that won't get out of my way. It appears to resemble a regular real-world modern airplane, an Airbus A340-300 to be exact, wearing a black mob cap with thin red ribbons on it, a faint blush tints its nosecone.

"Um...Do you mind?"

I move slightly to the side, trying to give it room while avoiding the edge. But it just moves the same as I do, almost like a mock mimic. Maybe it's just a fluke. I try it again. And again it does it.

"You're not gonna let me by, are you?"

My soul feels gripped and without skipping a beat, my blue soul comes out, a battle begins.

[Tsunderplane gets in the way! Not on purpose or anything.]

Wait...Don't tell me that name means what I think it does. What are my options?

[FIGHT]

[ACT]

[̴͝SP͜͞E͡L̵͜L͟͠͏]͘͢

[ITEM]

[MERCY]

That weird one came back? It looks so...messed up. I won't touch it. Maybe as a last resort, but not if I can help it. Let's see what this thing is made of.

[ACT selected.]

[New options available.]

[CHECK]

[FLIRT]

[APPROACH]

I am not doing those last two before I know what this thing can do.

[CHECK selected.]

[TSUNDERPLANE – HP: 80 ATK: 25 DEF: 26 – Seems mean, but does it secretly like you?]

"The fuck...?"

This plane catches an attitude.

"No way! Why would I like YOU?!"

Especially since we've only just met. Wait...

"You can talk?!"

It moves it's wings up, summing its attack. Several smaller planes fly horizontally straight from either side above me, dropping bombs that look like miniature nukes. Once a bomb hits the ground, a vertical line of toxic smoke appears and blocks my sight momentarily. All in all, this is not easy to avoid because of the lack of space and I end up taking a really nasty hit.

[HP ████████████████ 15/40]

I'm too afraid to check my wound. My ears are ringing and I feel damp somewhere on my side. I won't stand another hit like that. Damn it! I need my defense items!

*bang*

My head is smacked hard by metal.

[Tsunderplane "accidentally" bumps you with its wing.]

It pushed me back. It's keeping distance. Why it's not like it needs the room, damn thing can fly. I wonder...What'll happen if I get close? But first I need to heal.

[ITEM selected.]

I need to remember to thank Flowey when I see him again. If it wasn't for his prodding I'd have nothing in my inventory.

["Butterscotch Cheesecake" - All HP - Butterscotch cheesecake, one slice.]

"Mmmm...So good. Thanks, mama."

[You ate the Butterscotch Cheesecake. Your HP was maxed out.]

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

Ah, much better. Now I just need to avoid getting hit again. My turn ends.

"Hmph! Id... Idiot! Don't get in my way!"

You blocked me, asshat.

She uses a different attack but one that's somewhat easier to deal with. Large planes fly directly at me, leaving a horizontal-moving toxic trail of smoke balls. I am grateful this was it's second go. I dodge this one better, no damage taken.

[Tsunderplane shakes its nose dismissively at you.]

"_... Human..."

Now it speaks in emojis? I mean, I guess that's a thing that can happen, Gaster speaks in hands and junk.

"Something wrong? I can't help but notice."

Going off its behavior and name, I put some real emphasis on the word notice. It flinches. Got you.

Tsundere is a Japanese term for a character development process that depicts a person who is initially cold and sometimes even hostile before gradually showing a warmer, friendlier side over time. The word is derived from the terms tsun tsun ('to turn away in disgust or anger') and dere dere ('to become affectionate'). They're the opposite of a Yandere. Yandere is a Japanese term for a person who is initially very loving and gentle to someone or at least innocent before their devotion becomes destructive in nature, often through violence and/or brutality. The term is derived from the words yanderu (a mental or emotional illness) and dere dere. They are different and yet have one weakness...Wanting the attention of Senpai, the person they have a fondness for. Why do I know all this? Because I'm a big freaking dork! I can use this. I just don't understand why it would have such feelings.

"...H-human ... ...?"

Now to test my theory.

[APPROACH selected.]

[You get close to Tsunderplane. But not too close.]

"Eeeeh? H-human ...?"

It's getting flustered. I'm not proud of this method but if it works to keep me alive, so be it.

"You don't mind me getting close, right?"

[Tsunderplane looks over, then turns up its nose.]

"Huh!? Y-you sicko!"

It spins on heels it doesn't have and nearly takes my head. This ain't going to be easy.

The mini planes return but something's off. Six planes attacked me before, but now there's only three. Easier than before yet still dangerous. That smoke is noxious and obnoxious.

[Tsunderplane gives you a condescending barrel roll.]

"Don't think I'm going easy on you! It's not like I LIKE you."

Your actions say otherwise, so does that growing blush. Time for phase two.

[FLIRT selected.]

[You tell Tsunderplane it has an impressive wingspan.]

"I must say, birds wish they could have wings like that. Very cool."

It covers its nosecone in its wingtips.

"Ah...is that true...?"

"Why would I lie?"

I think this is working. It summons the large planes again but this time the planes are surrounded by narrow green auras and the smoke trails aren't moving. Curiosity has me touching the green and finding it does two things. One, it doesn't hurt me. And two, it's blushing more excitedly. After touching four Tsunderplane is practically glowing, or it could be the headlights. And when that last sixth plane passes Tsunderplane looks away shyly and starts to give off the smell of an airport perfume counter. Maybe just one more to seal the deal.

[FLIRT selected.]

[You tell Tsunderplane it has cute winglets.]

"Awww...Those wingtip fences are so cute! Then again, on such an adorable aircraft, that's to be expected."

It loses its mind. Jetting high up and aileron rolls three times before zipping off into the distance.

[YOU WON!]

[You earned 0 XP and 60 gold.]

Damn! That's some gold! Much needed due to spending all my gold in Waterfall so long ago.

"Not my worse fight but one of the more interesting ones. Till we meet again, Tsunderplane-chan."

I wave to where I saw Tsunderplane fly off and return to my journey. However, this is short-lived once again, but not by a monster. I think this is one of the obstacles Mettaton told me about. The land is broken. Vents shoot out big gusts of steam. I think he intends for me to use these to traverse the area since there are painted red arrows on the one in front of me and the one across from it. The flaw in this plan of his is this...In trying to have seen any of this, I ended up looking down.

Sweat begins to slide down my brow, but not from the heat. My wide eyes can't look away from the high as hell drop to lava that I'm meant to cross. My body starts to tremble. My breathing harsh. I'm going into a panic.

[Snowdin: Skeleton House in present time]

That was a stressful fight to watch. The massive damage the human took at the start made it clear she had been stripped of her armor, adding harsher levels of difficulty to an already challenging task. But they know her well by this point. She's clever. She's adaptable. She's stubborn as hell. And she knows they're likely watching.

["Butterscotch Cheesecake" - All HP - Butterscotch cheesecake, one slice.]

"Mmmm...So good. Thanks, mama."

[You ate the Butterscotch Cheesecake. Your HP was maxed out.]

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

Toriel's motherly heart was swelling. This one. This was the one she believed could survive in this hell. And her non-violent victory against the Tsunderplane made it more clear that her daughter wasn't so much the child she believed her to be.

"Yeah! Way to go, pussycat!"

Grillby is at least in better spirits. He nearly torched the couch when he thought of Mettaton stripping her of her armor.

"SHE'S NOT MOVING."

True. The human had won the fight but was now frozen in place by the vents, fear dripped from her face.

"uh oh."

This got attention.

"What is wrong? Why does she not continue?"

"pap and me found this out about her when she first came out of the ruins. she's afraid of heights. and if she doesn't move soon, she'll pass out under the pressure."

"But...It's not like she can just leave. And if she falls..."

No one wanted to finish that thought.

"THE HELL...?"

Something new appears and has their attention.

"Flowey?"

[HOTLAND: LAB]

Undyne had been watching the many screens Alphys controls as part of Mettaton's live feed broadcast. Nothing had been particularly interesting, not even that bogus fight with the Tsunderplane. But then...

"The fuck...? Alphys, you seeing this?"

Of course, the lizard was scribbling like a madman on her notepad. This was something new.

"Huh...Show me what ya got, human."

The fish woman resumes watching with a hearty slurp of noddles.

[HOTLAND: LEVEL ONE]

It's happening again. My legs turn to jelly and I drop to my knees. I can't do this. I can't move. What if I fall? I don't want to burn to death. I heard it's not quick either like how movies portray it. The pain overload is what kills you. I don't want that. I ̕ca͢n̛'́t ͢de̶al͏! Í ̸c̷̨a̴n'͡t!͘

*STATIC* HELLO? DARLING? CAN YOU HEAR ME?

The earpiece Mettaton gave me goes off. But something's interfering.

*STATIC* YOU NEED TO GET GOING, DEAR. DON'T WORRY ABOUT THE STEAM. IT WON'T BURN. THOUGH YOU MIGHT GET A BIT TENDER IF YOU PLAY IN THEM TOO LONG.

T̷̵h̷́at̵̨'̧͞s̵̸͞ ́̀not ̷̕͜h́el̴͘̕p̛i̸͜ng͟!̢͟

I feel it starting. The blood dripping from my nose. Why? Why am I so weak?!

*STATIC* DARLING? COME ON. YOU NEED TO MOVE. WE HAD A DEAL.

F̴̶͢u͘͞c̶͞k͏ ͟͏̴ý̢ou ̸́a̶̕͜n҉͞d҉̛ ̶̀y͢o̡u̸͠r̸ ̧́͝d͞e̢͜ą̕l͢͝! ̨̛I͝͞͝'̶m̢҉ n̡o̡͜͝t̴ ̵҉̛m̀͏o͘͝v̴́͠i͏̀n͟͡ǵ͜!̴

Strange energy begins to crackle around me. I don't know what it is and it's freaking me out more!

"There you are..."

Life returns to me upon hearing Flowey's voice.

"You just always seem to...The hell is up with your face?!"

"B̢͢͞ŗ̡̀o̸t̡h̡͟e̵̛r͘̕͞?"

The strange energy slowly dissipates, Flowey being here is calming me down, though the sight still unnerves him.

"Easy now. Just calm down. You don't want to overtax your soul."

"S̨-̀Sơr͡ry̷.̛.͞.I.̶..͢*shaky inhale*I looked down."

Flowey moves over to me and pats my leg with a tiny vine.

"Don't worry, your big brother's here for you."

I give him a nervous smile and wipe my nose.

"So...What's wrong with my face?"

"Uh...Nothing. You look fine."

I look at him flatly.

"I have makeup on, don't I?"

"Well..."

God dang it, Mettaton.

"Fudge it. As long as I'm not dolled up like a clown, ignore it. Right now I need help."

"Fine with me, but first...I want an apology for that stunt at the bar."

I nod.

"I'm sorry. It was a dirty move. But..."

He pouts.

"You wanted to talk to him without me butting in."

I claw the ground.

"...There are things I still can't tell you."

"When? When can you open up to me?"

"Soon. Lots of stuff I know is in pieces. I just need to figure out how it all fits to understand."

"Like what?"

"Well for starters...Getting through this crap."

Flowey looks out at the vents.

"You really can't do this?"

"No. My acrophobia, paranoia, vertigo, and lack of self-confidence prevents it."

"Sheesh. At least your honest."

I sit on my heels and slap my face a few times, trying to psych myself out.

"The body and mind both have their own ways of keeping themselves safe. Even if one of them is tricking the other. My body won't move if my brain keeps telling it no because it feels in danger."

"Hmmm...And I take it you're not up for that blindfold idea again."

I look at him confused.

"Over lava?!"

He sighs.

"Yeah, fair enough."

This sucks.

"Oh! I got an idea. What if I carry you over?"

Flower-goat-boy say what?

"Not to put you down, bro, but I ain't exactly light and I don't want you to hurt yourself trying."

He winks.

"Trust me. I'm stronger than you think."

I don't doubt you, I'm more worried I'll freak out if he does. But what choice do I have? Sit her forever or move forward.

"Okay. But not yet."

"Huh?"

I feel the ground again.

"This is rock and yet you're moving through it..."

"Yeah?"

"Can you scout ahead through this vent thing? Tell me if other monsters or crap is hiding?"

He nods.

"Can do."

He sinks into the ground. Here's hoping he stays out of sight of any hostiles. A few times I see his petal head pop up from time to time, but in areas I can't see I get a bit shook. Especially when he's out of sight for too long. I count the seconds between each puff of steam, giving up because it's too fast. A small rumble off to my side, part of Flowey's stem is protruding but seems to be having trouble coming out. With some wiggling and what looks like some tugging, he emerges yet only partly.

"*strain* H-Hey...I found something you can use."

I'm curious. I help chip some ground away and something metal appears. Looping my finger through a hole, I help him pull this mystery thing out and wow it puts up quite the struggle. With a final double pull from the both of us, the object reveals itself...a frying pan?

"The hell...?"

"I found it at one of the areas off over there. It once belonged to a human that fell a long time ago."

All this mismatch stuff. What were the humans that fell before even doing to fall with such stuff? Whatever, an item gained is better than no items at all.

[You equipped the Nasty Pan.]

[You gain 10 Attack.]

[You don't know if it's covered in old food or gore. Either way, the damage is rather consistent. Consumables items will heal 4 more HP.]

"Damn. Was really hoping for some defense boost."

"Sorry. How uneven does this make your stats now?"

"See for yourself."

He's confused till he CHECKs me.

[Lynsie - LV:1 - HP: 40 ATK: 30 DEF: 11 - Too nice for her own good.]

"What the...? What happened?!"

I stand and stretch.

"I got mugged."

He frowns.

"The robot?"

I answer with a nod and change the line of chatter to current events.

"Was there anyone out there?"

He shakes his head.

"At least that's some good news. So how do we do this?"

He moves back, over to where the path sort-of splits.

"This way."

With no other moves, I follow him to a spot where a vent is missing and he points to the land across it.

"Over there is the exit. If you can not freak out, I should be able to take you over there."

My spine shivers.

"Are you certain you can lift me over? That's at least a ten-foot gap, give or take."

"Trust me. I know what I'm capable of."

I swallow what little courage I have and shut my eyes tight.

"Please, make it quick."

"Don't worry, I got you."

There's silence for a bit. Then something slithers under then over my shoulders and slinks to wrap around my waist. I want to look but when my feet leave the ground my entire body clenches.

"Easy now. No sudden moves."

That doesn't help.

I do my best to block out everything. Like the feel of wind brushing past and intense heat that wafts up from below. My nerves are threatening to go off again. The instant I can feel a foot touch anything solid my eyes shoot open.

"See? Told you I could do it."

He's already on this side with me. Probably moved here first then reached over and carried my dumb frightened ass over. Bless you, super flower-goat-boy! The vines release and I'm once more on terra firma. I use this moment to hug Flowey.

"Thank you!"

He chuckles and now it's two going through Mettaton's show. If only I didn't leave my bag at home. Then he'd be riding with me. Then again, Mettaton would've taken that too and really screwed me over.

FINALLY. AS TOUCHING AS THAT WAS, DARLING, YOU NEED TO GET MOVING. WE'RE ALREADY BEHIND SCHEDULE AS IT IS.

I pop my neck and nod. The sooner I get through this the sooner it ends and we can go home.

"You okay with following me in case of other bull?"

"Oh yeah. You're going to need me. There are more vents past this.

I groan and silently curse everything before walking. Upon entering the north path past the steam vents, we come across another path made of pipework that veers to the right. This would be super chill if it weren't for the freaking lasers!

"This shouldn't be a big deal."

I look down at Flowey funny.

"Dude...Do you not see the lasers?"

He shakes his head.

"Don't think of them like you think they are. Those are made with magic energy. You remember what I told you about orange and light blue magic, don't you?"

It takes a second for that to click in my head. My small smirk lets him know I'm not completely stupid.

"See you on the other side."

He retreats to the ground and has to move through that, not like he can go through metal shit. So I take on this obstacle. There are nine lasers in total that go the order of orange, orange, cyan, orange, cyan, orange, cyan, cyan, and orange, with the cyan ones moving around. So by the logic of magic properties, I move through the orange ones and pause for the cyan ones till it's safe to keep going. In no time I'm at the end, a large metal pillar has a big red switch and out of spite I flip it. This effectively turns the laser off. Sweet! That was easy. Onward I go. The path veers upward and, can you guess, has more of those damn vents. A base one that changes directions, a one on the left and right side as well as in front. The path wants me to go forward but is blocked by a locked door. No doubt each side has a puzzle that opens each lock. Gotta love real-life video game logic.

"Not so bad, right?"

Speaks the emerging flora to my right.

"Still in one piece."

I joke to myself to keep the dumb side of me from saying something to jinx me.

"Need another lift?"

Looking at the gap between vents, it's not so evil as the first ones, maybe about four or five feet.

"I think I can manage this one."

He's relieved, thinking I'm being a big girl and fighting my fear.

"Great! I knew you could...wait...What are you...?!"

Don't think. Just act. Fear can't affect you if you don't realize it's there.

I take a short sprint and make nice bound over to where he's at. He's rather confused.

"The hell? What about your phobia?"

"Easy...Didn't think about it."

I head for the puzzle and he's flabbergasted.

"Wha...but...You still could've used the vents!"

"Nope!"

He catches up to me as I get distracted looking at two monsters sitting at the cliff's edge.

"You scare me something."

"How do you think I feel? I scare myself and I'm the one doing it."

There's a room nearby but these two just pull my attention. There's what appears to be a pale-green dragon in a black business suit and slick shade, like some sort of scaly lawyer. A black wisp-like monsters that reminds me of Grillby, even sporting glasses, in a gray tank-top and red pants drinking something steaming hot, dude looks chill in this heat. They don't seem to notice us and I can hardly hear bits of their chit chat. Something about how they're glad that the reactivated puzzles are preventing them from progressing as they do not want to go to work. They are also muttering some other stuff but I head for the room before they see this random human.

Inside the puzzle room, I'm met by two things. The puzzle itself and a disembodied fox head wearing sunglasses. The fuck am I tripping on?!

"The door leading through the area is closed?"

Dear God, it bounces as it talks and speaks with an upward inflection like valley speak! It hurts my brain. Good news, it has no clue what I am. Yay!

"So I tried the puzzle? But I kept running out of ammo, and it kept restarting?"

"...Bummer."

"And my two co-workers won't help? It's like they don't even wanna go to work?"

"Harsh."

"Why don't you try? Try using the console?"

I shrug and give this thing a little checking out. No real help from the fox so maybe the puzzle will tell me what to do. Oh, look! The convenient "?" icon is super tiny and hidden in the corner while also being somewhat the same color as the background. That's not a dick move, oh no, not in the slightest.

(Shoot the opposing ship!)

(Move the boxes to complete your mission.)

Okay, that's useful. Let's see...Four immovable blocks, two movable ones, and two open spaces. The immovable blocks are in each corner and the movable ones are in my way. And to top it all off, I get only two shots. Scoot the two away, shoot, and puzzle solved.

(CONGRATULATIONS!)

That's one done, another to go.

"Wow? You solved it? I'm impressed? You must be a total nerd?"

...Jackass.

Leaving the room has Flowey grabbing my wrist with a vine and tugging me to get moving.

"Bro, chill, what's wrong?"

"I heard them talking. They've been watching Mettaton's broadcast on their phones."

Yeah, that's our cue to skedaddle.

"Please use the vents this time."

I speed past him much to his chagrin.

"Screw...the...rules!"

I shout with each leap taken. I know deep down he wants to call me dumb and yet I'm kinda proud I'm able to forget about the incredibly high path we're treading that drops into freaking lava. He rejoins me as a non-moving cyan laser seemingly impedes my progress. However, it's waist level in height and nothing is stopping me from crawling underneath it.

"Wow."

"I know, right?"

Like on the right side, the left has the puzzle room and two monsters just hanging out on the cliff. These two monster girls are wearing what look like red and black Japanese school uniforms. The fuck? Not sure what's weirder, everyone's bravery by being that close to death or how the hell they got those clothes. Either way, one girl is purple with possible tentacle hair and has red eyes with black sclera, she is so clearly a tom-boy with her red back facing cap and skateboard. While the other girl is made up of lime green flame and gives off this way too innocent vibe for being here and with the bad-girl. Hotland does seem more and more to be Grillby's former home. How many more fire elementals live here?

"You think the laser has them stuck here?"

"Maybe. I know I wouldn't crawl on the floor with a skirt like that."

I enter the room and thankfully there's no head laying around that speaks in headache-inducing jabber. Let's see...Are the rules the same?

(Shoot the opposing ship!)

(Move the boxes to complete your mission.)

Yep. Same rules but different layout. Five immovable blocks, six movable ones, and five open spaces. The three immovable ones are in corners, one is above a corner, and the last is touching the corner of a corner block. And once more I get two shots. The movable blocks from a backward jacked letter C. This one is a bit more complex. The majority of the blocks move in one push. I have to try this a few times before I'm able to have it clear enough to shoot through one block and then the target.

(CONGRATULATIONS!)

If my calculations are correct, the door should be open now and further progress can be made. I leave the room and notice the laser is off. Flowey is also nowhere to be seen, probably due to the girls having moved from their original spot.

"Finally! Someone turned off that laser!"

Don't thank me, I'm just awesome.

"Now that we're free we can... Well, uh, I guess we'll just keep standing here."

"Hm? Nice try, but your loitering technique still needs work."

They chat with themselves. Great time to be invisible.

"Loitering around... What's the point?"

"Beats being in school. Why should we bother going to school, anyway...? What's the point in learning how to make a buncha puzzles? There's GOTTA be a way to cancel school."

"But isn't it summer vacation?"

"...Auuuugh! This world's got no future!"

A bit overly dramatic. Whatever. Back to business. I rush to make my final leap and almost trip on the pipework floor. Yeah...Not gonna be doing this jump thing anymore. Lost my nerve for it. Motion activates the door and it slides opens into the rock.

"Okay, Metta...Here I come."

Going through the door leads me to a small bit of land that turns to the right and three widely spaced vents in a row to reach the next...Is that kitchen linoleum? I can't be seeing that right.

"Seems like you have no choice this time."

Flowey appears.

"Can't at least hurl me across?"

He shakes his head.

"I can't support carrying you that far and I'm not risking you falling to death."

"Yeah, my luck as of late would be that level of crap."

I smack myself a few times to ready my timid nerves.

"Any words of wisdom before I do this?"

He thinks for a moment.

"Beware of chainsaws."

"What?!"

He sinks into the ground and I internally scream...Fuck my life!

Stepping onto the vent blocks the steam for a bit. The building pressure launches me from one vent to the next. By the time I reach solid ground I'm about ready to vomit my still-beating heart out.

"I hate heights!"

I'm gonna punch him. I swear, even if it breaks my hands, I will beat the shit out of Mettaton for this.

Still shaken I crawl my way into the next area. It's very weird. As if the linoleum wasn't odd, I'm now in what looks like a kitchen set. Oh...Oh god no...This can't mean...

"Don't tell me this is what I think it is."

As if on cue, low and behold, my metal master of moronic mayhem hovers down from the heavens wearing a chef's hat.

"OHHHH YES! WELCOME, DASTARDLIES, TO THE UNDERGROUND'S PREMIER COOKING SHOW!"

(Cooking with a Killer Robot)

"PRE-HEAT YOUR OVENS, BECAUSE WE'VE GOT A VERY SPECIAL RECIPE FOR YOU TODAY! WE'RE GOING TO BE MAKING...A CAKE! DEVIL'S FOOD CAKE TO BE EXACT."

Two of his hands stretch out and grab me, despite my pointless clawing at the floor, to present me to cameras I can't see.

"MY LOVELY ASSISTANT HERE WILL GATHER THE INGREDIENTS. EVERYONE GIVE THEM A BIG HAND!"

An applause sound effect goes off as well as confetti falls. I glare at myself.

"*mutter* You better have my stuff as promised or I will purposefully make sure your ratings bomb."

He pulls me in so only I hear him.

"*WHISPER* DO THAT AND YOU CAN KISS YOUR ITEMS GOODBYE."

I snort a huff and try to put on a smile. This seems to be what he wants.

"WE'LL NEED SUGAR, MILK, FLOUR, CHOCOLATE, AND EGGS. GO FOR IT, SWEETHEART!"

He's being overly flashy and fantastic. I should play along...but I'm too pissy and bitter. Plus calling me sweetheart irks me. You want a nice human? I'll be so sweet your blood sugar will spike!

"*giggles* Golly-gee. Thanks for having me on your show, Mr. Mettaton. Let's make the bestest best cake ever!"

This is stooping to new levels of pettiness that I might want to find a therapist for later. I'm pushing for a nearly unbelievable level of childish innocence as I scope the set and gather ingredients. All the while he watches every little skip and mean-spirited twirl I make before bring it all back to him a dopey smile.

"All done, Mr. Mettaton. This is going to be the most choco-lickity-yummiest cake in the universe!"

He puts two of his hands together and one on my head before sighing.

"DARLING...I LOVE WHAT YOU'RE DOING, I REALLY DO. BUT FOR THE SAKE OF THE AUDIENCE, COULD YOU LOWER THE CUTE DOWN A BIT?"

I give the puppy dog eyes.

"Am I in trouble? Did I do something wrong?"

He flinches and without thinking he slams my head into the counter. I roar and cover my face, trying not to burst into a hurricane of swears while he goes about the show.

"PERFECT! GREAT JOB, BEAUTIFUL! WE'VE GOT ALL OF THE INGREDIENTS WE NEED TO BAKE THE CAKE! MILK... SUGAR... FLOUR... CHOCOLATE... EGGS..."

He gasps suddenly while I check if my nose is broken. Good news, it's not.

"OH MY! WAIT A MAGNIFICENT MOMENT! HOW COULD I FORGET! WE'RE MISSING THE MOST IMPORTANT INGREDIENT!"

I wipe a small bit of blood off my forehead.

"And what ingredient is that? This was everything you told me to get."

Some of my attitude is coming out but not too much.

"WHY, IT'S NOTHING WE HAVE TO GO SEARCHING FOR. YOU BROUGHT IT HERE WITH YOU."

I look at him funny until I see him pulling two chainsaws out from under the counter.

"A HUMAN SOUL!"

My heart sinks as he revs them up. Yet when he begins to do a slow methodical approach...My brain remembers to do one of my many pointless talents. Poking holes things with needless but true knowledge.

"Objection!"

The nerd in me is giddy for being able to make him pause with that.

"YES?"

I slap the counter.

"This recipe is bogus. What kind of cake calls for an ingredient that is so rare and priceless as a human soul? I submit my dumb argument, because I'm willing to admit the idiocy of saying this, that a human soul would serve a far greater purpose than being used for baked goods. Such as breaking the barrier. What say you, Metta? Do you have anything to back up your reasoning to use my soul in this cake?"

I wonder if Napsablook has an emulator on his PC? I want to play Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney now.

His screen blinks a little in thought. Before one of his arms leaves the murder weapon to go somewhere off set and return to put a can on the counter.

"...What is that?"

"THAT, MY DEAR, IS MTT-BRAND ALWAYS-CONVENIENT HUMAN-SOUL-FLAVOR-SUBSTITUTE! AVAILABLE AT ANY OF MY FINE RETAIL MARKETS! PROOF THAT THIS IS SOMETHING RATHER COMMON DOWN HERE AND THEREFORE, NOT A COMPLETELY UNREASONABLE IDEA AS TO WHY USE OF YOUR SOUL WOULD BE IN COOKING."

I stare dumbfounded at this can.

"This...This thing holds stuff that tastes like a human soul?"

He turns one chainsaw off and leans on it like a villain does with a cane.

"IT IS WHAT IT IS, DARLING. THE LABEL DOESN'T LIE. I SELL ONLY THE BEST. AND I GUARANTEE, IF YOU TRY IT, YOU'D NEVER KNOW THE DIFFERENCE."

My mouth opens but nothing comes out. I put my hands together, hold them to my face, and ponder the meaning of life."

"Metta, my dude...This is some messed up stuff right here."

"HOW SO?"

I sigh through my nose and lose my ability to be subtle.

"You do know that souls can be used as sexual organs, right?"

He slips from his cool pose in shock.

"DARLING! CAREFUL WHAT YOU SAY! THIS IS LIVE AND KIDS MIGHT BE WATCHING."

"Do not change the subject by insinuating children don't have the ability to understand. Kids are always learning and they find things out quicker than others give credit. Such as their body's and, because it's a monster's core, soul. You can not expect me to believe that knowledge of that caliber is unknown."

I grab the can harshly.

"Knowing that, the fact this can exists and as you claim is indistinguishable from the real deal, it insinuates that you or someone else on your staff knows what a human soul tastes like. Meaning...Someone has had oral sex with a human soul."

He falls over at my accusations. Chainsaws long forgotten. But I'm not done.

"Further more, this can opens a can of worms in its implications. Forgive my armature knowledge on the subject, but in the old myths above, there is no mention of monsters feeding on human souls. Such things usually are connected to demons. So this concept is either new to the Underground or you're making it up purely for this show!"

My head is swimming with weird thoughts and I'm unable to keep them to myself.

"Fearing that the humans would one day turn on monster kind and slaughter their people, absorb their few boss souls and become dominant over them, the monsters decided to launch a preemptive strike. That's what the old text said, but...If this feeding on souls it true..."

I glare at the can, not liking the thoughts it's making me get.

"Then humans had a reason to seal you away."

Those words are bitter and I spit them getting angry, squeezing the can with force.

"Tell me I'm wrong."

It crunches, metal splitting to cut into my hand before furiously throwing it at the fake window behind us.

"Tell me I'm wrong! Don't make me feel bad for humanity!"

I'm physically shaking. My rage tapering on the verge. It's not even towards anyone. How can it? What's in the past is there forever. But this...Don't tell me this is real and in the present.

"Please..."

I lick my hand, trying to focus on the sting and hint of copper to calm me down. Finally able to recover, Mettaton dusts himself off. Taking note of my behavior and picking his words carefully.

"WOW, DARLING. SUCH RAW EMOTION. THE PASSION. FEAR. ANGER. AND DESPERATION. IT'S PERFECT IN EVERY WAY!"

A low snarl from me reminds him that I'm in no mood for his fabulous side.

"BUT TO ANSWER YOUR RATHER INTERESTING QUERY...NO. IT'S NOT TRUE."

A small sensation of relief begins to hit me as he opens a compartment under his screen and pulls out a small advertisement poster.

"I FIGURED THIS IDEA WOULD WORK MAINLY BECAUSE..."

He lightly touches my face.

"YOU'RE SWEETER THAN ANY DESERT~."

With the whole 'about to kill me' and fucked up line of thought thing that happened seconds ago, his little flirt has no effect and I slap his hand away. He's taken by this yet keeps his composer.

"BUT I SEE NOW THAT WAS FOOLISH. USING YOU IN A SIMPLE COOKING SHOW WAS A MASSIVE UNDERESTIMATION. ESPECIALLY TO PROMOTE MY NEWEST PRODUCT."

He crumbs the add and tosses it away.

"BUT AFTER THAT SCENE, I CAN KISS THOSE SALES GOODBYE. IT WAS WORTH A SHOT THOUGH. YOU NEVER KNOW WHAT WORKS WITHOUT TAKING RISKS."

I am so done with all of this it ain't even funny.

"YET THIS WASN'T A TOTAL LOST. I LEARNED YOU HAVE A REAL TALENT."

I eye him cautiously, getting the bleeding to at last stop.

"CLEARLY A COURTROOM DRAMA IS PERFECT FOR YOU!"

I hate my luck.

"I NEED TO MAKE SOME CALLS! GET A SET MADE! OOOOOH! THE SCANDALOUS SCRIPT IDEAS I HAVE!"

"I think you're jumping the gun a bit early on this."

He puts a finger to my lips.

"NOT NOW, DARLING, I'M WORKING."

I gesture to where I assume a camera is that he's nuts.

[RING-RING]

His phone goes off.

"THIS BETTER BE IMPORTANT! I'M ON AIR RIGHT NOW!"

Damn it. I can't hear the caller.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE WON'T MOVE?! YOU TELL HER..."

He's cut off.

"W-WHAT?! HOW MANY OF YOU ARE THERE LEFT? ...JUST YOU?! DAMN IT, BUGERPANTS, SO HELP ME IF THIS IS A PLOY TO GET OUT OF YOUR SHIFT..."

While he's distracted, I use this time to move the chainsaws away and out of sight. No need for them to come back into play.

"WAIT...SAY THAT LAST PART AGAIN. ARE YOU CERTAIN IT'S HIS POST?"

Post? What post? Who's post?

"*HUFF* FINE. RETURN TO YOUR POST. I'LL DEAL WITH THIS MYSELF."

He hangs up and is not too happy.

"*MUMBLE* DAMN SPIDER AND HER STUPID PET, KILLS MY MINIONS AND STILL DENIES MY BUSINESS DEALS!"

"You okay?"

My voice snaps him out of his thoughts and he calms down.

"UM...A CHANGE IN PLANS HAS COME UP. YES! DUE TO SOME SET ISSUES AND TIME CONSTRAINTS, OUR SHOW RUNS ON A STRICT SCHEDULE YOU KNOW, I'M GOING TO PERSONALLY DROP YOU OFF AT THE NEXT LEG OF THE GAUNTLET."

Well, that sounds like a load of bullshit. But my dumb brain has to dumb brain.

"So what you're telling me is we're not even going to finish this segment by making the damn cake?"

He pulls me into an uncomfortable side embrace.

"I KNOW, IT'S HEARTBREAKING. BUT YOU SHOULD'VE MOVED FASTER AT THE START OF ALL THIS."

"I have a fear of heights!"

"NOW WE'LL JUST HAVE TO LIVE WITH NOT KNOWING HOW GOOD THE CAKE COULD'VE BEEN."

"Don't ignore me."

"OR HOW MUCH MORE DELICIOUS IT COULD BE IF EATEN OFF MY BODY."

"The fuck did you say?!"

"BUT COME ON, DARLING, I'M ONLY MESSING WITH YOU AND OUR MALICIOUS VIEWERS. HAVEN'T YOU EVER SEEN A COOKING SHOW BEFORE? I ALREADY BAKED THE CAKE AHEAD OF TIME! SO FORGET IT! BECAUSE YOU'RE NOT GETTING ANY OF IT!"

"Is the screaming in my ear necessary?"

"WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT! RIGHT ABOUT NOW IS WHEN WE HAVE OUR COMMERCIAL BREAK! SO STAY TUNED TO THAT SCREEN AND CONTINUE WATCHING AS OUR DEAR DARLING DARES TO DART FORTH INTO DANGER ONCE MORE!"

"Can you at least tell me I don't have to do any more vent platforming?"

"SORRY, BUT I'D BE LYING IF I DID."

I start trying to swear but I end up roaring out in meek frustration.

"SEE YOU ALL AGAIN REAL SOON."

A few seconds go by and he lets me go.

"OKAY, WE DON'T HAVE MUCH TIME..."

He moves to the sink and opens the cabinets under it.

"WE HAD A DEAL. DESPITE THAT LITTLE SHOW YOU PUT ON, I AM IF ANYTHING A MONSTER OF MY WORD."

He tosses me a bag with his face on it. Taking the hint, I open it and find my missing gear. Though...no phone. I take this small victory without a fight. I'm fairly certain I know who has it anyway. That cat is so getting skinned. I equip my items and CHECK my stats.

[ HP: 40 ATK: 45 DEF: 27]

"Someday, I swear my defense will be decent, damn it!"

"ALL SET?"

I may look ridiculous with all this all but it's not like I was a supermodel before.

"Yeah, I'm good. Thank you."

"UM..."

"What?"

"I WANT TO APOLOGIZE."

I scoff.

"Forget it."

"NO. I...WHAT I DID WAS STUPID. I SKIMMED OVER THINGS AND WASN'T EXPECTING HOW YOU'D REACT. A GOOD SHOWMAN IS MORE PREPARED AND KNOWS HIS CAST BETTER. FOR THAT...I'M SORRY"

No matter the mood I might be in, I know how hard it is to swallow one's pride and admit a wrong. I just wish he wasn't such a flip-flopper because this personality switching is making it difficult to trust him fully.

"*sigh* ...I forgive you. But don't ever pull that kind of crap again. Got it? I like you monsters. I like being here. I don't want to feel bad for my kind and see THIS punishment as justified."

He nods, or what I take as the equivalent to one for a guy without a neck. With that now all said and done he once again snatches me into his arms and he blasts off like a rocket. Where to? No damn clue.

[HOTLAND: LAB]

"Well, that was disappointing. Freaky, but disappointing."

Undyne collects another bowel to enjoy.

"Not his best move. That's for sure. All that controversial fuss."

Alphys had cut the feed but was still viewing the robot and human.

"Yeah. He didn't even use those chainsaws. Such a wasted opportunity."

"Still, the way she interpreted all that from a simple can of spice...And that reaction..."

Theories were coming to Alphys.

"Definitely something to remember for future use."

Undyne takes a long slurp of ramen.

"It's a freak, Alphys. Plain and simple."

Alphys's companion's lack of imagination made her sneer.

"At least he's prolonging her activity. That provides data. And that's all that matters."

Undyne rolls her eye.

"Still...I wonder what that phone call was about?"

Alphys, being the one that sees all, knows the answer to that question. She just finds it more interesting to see if her hot fish friend can figure it out for herself. Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive.

[Snowdin: Skeleton House in present time]

They weren't sure what they just watched. Such a strange buildup and quickly smothered show. Sure this wasn't over but no one honestly thought that second showing was going to be over in about twelve minutes. Still...The lingering questions remained when the commercials played.

"This is nerve-wracking."

"I know. But at least there's some good news. He's moving her further. She'll be done faster."

"I suppose that is true."

"OR SHE'LL BE KILLED QUICKER."

Toriel and Grillby glare at Papyrus.

"WHAT? I'M BEING REALISTIC BY SAYING THE OPTION YOU'RE IGNORING."

The glares and fire strengthen.

Papyrus takes the hint and walks away. Maybe Sans had some sort of idea and won't want to beat the shit out of him as the others do.

"you need to work on your people skills, bro."

He growls but that's it.

"i got an idea as to what happened near the end."

"REALLY?"

"yeah. i think someone tipped him off about my post there."

"YOU SURE?"

"got no other clue as to why he'd move her himself and not let her walk."

"HOW MUCH DO YOU THINK HE'LL HAVE HER SKIP?"

"who's to say? i only know what i can see from my post. and it ain't much."

"WHY DO YOU HAVE SO MANY POSTS?"

"do ya know anybody else that can teleport?"

"...GOOD POINT."

"you sound underwhelmed."

"I DON'T KNOW...I JUST DON'T SEE IT. YOU WORKING THAT MUCH? IT'S WEIRD."

"if it makes it less weird, i sell hot dogs at those stations."

"THAT...THAT MAKES MORE SENSE."

The television flickers suddenly. The commercials end and the human is back onscreen. Her exact location is odd in that there doesn't seem to be a path to leave on. There's a signpost they can't read and random cacti. Among the positives, she is sporting her equipables again and thus have her stats boosted. On the negative side...she isn't there alone for very long.

[koreabooeauty]

It had been difficult to accept your feelings, he was your brothers best friend, and a year younger than you to boot.

Lee Felix, the perfect boy in your eyes. You and Jisung had moved to Seoul when you were younger, he had become one of your brothers friends almost instantly.

Soon enough he was over at your house every day after school, even on weekends he showed up. It was like you were trapped in your own house.

It was along your second year of high school, when the duo had entered the same school as you that everything had begun to change.

Slowly but surely, the duo had stopped hanging out. Instead of hearing the two of them cackling at their stupid jokes, you were met with a shut door and silence.

The two didn’t speak to each other anymore, and you were in the middle of it all. You were a part of the same dance club as Felix, but you were also related to Jisung so you steered clear of running into the other whilst with one.

Needless to say, you were tired of tiptoeing around, exhausted of lying to the both of them. Most of all, you were upset that you didn’t even know what had made the two of them stop speaking.

So instead of attempting to ask them what had happened (which you had tried on multiple occasions) you stopped talking to both of them. Which sounds a lot harder than it actually was, you just stopped making plans and getting home early.

Both of them had their own lives and why couldn’t you? It wasn’t your job to look after them, they were almost as old as you were.

The first few days they had assumed something was off, maybe you were mad or just busy. After the second week, they knew something was wrong, but hadn’t asked.

You missed them, you missed watching movies with Jisung and hanging out after dance club with Felix. But what was the point hanging with them if you felt guilty? You’d rather feel miserable like this instead.

It’s been three weeks, no questions, no calls. Nothing that made it seem like they missed you. Sure, you lived in the same house with Jisung but at this point it felt like you were nothing more than strangers.

“Han Jisung! Take your lunch!”

You were eating breakfast at the table, watching your mother nag Jisung. If it had been any different you would’ve stopped her, distracted her. But those times had changed.

“Mom, I’m leaving.”

Grabbing your bag, you squeezed past Jisung and slipped on your shoes. Opening up the door and leaving, shutting the door behind you.

The leaves were beginning to change. From their green they had become a red, they clutched onto the trees so the wind wouldn’t sweep them away.

This time last year, you had hung out with Felix. You had skipped school and went to a cat cafe, stopping by an arcade on the way.

That was the day you had accepted the butterflies swirling in your stomach.

“Ya! Get out of the way.”

A certain brunette rustled your hair, pushing you. Sighing, you stepped back onto the sidewalk, rolling your eyes at Hyunjin.

“You ever planning on growing up?” You asked, avoiding the cracks on the cement.

“Nope!”

Hyunjin laughed, swinging an arm over your shoulder. It made you stumble, only regaining your balance after you had taken some wonky steps forward.

“You are my least favorite person ever.” You glared at the teen, making him shrug with a grin plastered on his face.

You had become friends with Hyunjin before the three of you split up, but the two of you hadn’t been this close. His mom loved it, calling you a good influence on her son.

That was a nice change, you liked people wanting you around. You wanted to be liked, to be needed. There was a hole in your heart from the two boys, and while Hyunjin wasn’t a replacement, he was someone you could make room for.

“Mom wants you to come over tonight, does that fit in your schedule, liar?”

Hyunjin questioned, shaking his head from some leaves that had fallen. You though for a second, nodding in agreement.

“Sure, ugly.”

He stuck his tongue out at you, before running off, mumbling something about printing some papers. Shaking your head at him, you smiled.

As ridiculous as he was, he meant well. He had a good heart and was serious about his dreams, the reason you had become friends with him.

-

Classes carried on like usual, until lunch. At lunchtime you were told by a group of girls that some guys wanted to talk to you.

It seemed over the top, what was your life now? A drama?

Nonetheless you skipped lunch and headed to the classroom, ignoring the tension that had begun to build inside your stomach.

Unlike the warm feeling you’d get when you were flustered, this one was nerve wracking. The kind that made knots in your throat and made it hard to breathe.

The feeling grew even larger once you had opened up the door to the classroom, two familiar silhouettes staring at you.

“Hi.”

Jisung waved awkwardly, glancing at your reaction. You raised an eyebrow at him, trying your hardest not to show how confused or upset you were.

“Hey.”

You sat down at a desk, the closest one to the door, just in case you needed to make a quick get away.

“Have you been avoiding us?”

Felix asked, twiddling his fingers nervously on top of the desk. For the first time you realized that he wasn’t as perfect as people had made him seem. He was still a teen going through the same things you were.

Perhaps it was your lovestruck ridden brain that made him seem so wonderful, but through the constant torment you’ve been through, the fog had cleared and you could see him clearly.

He was a teen in the same ways you were, he had small scars and stories, he did dumb things without another thought.

“Yeah. There was no point being a part of your dumb fight,”

You paused, watching them both look at the ground before you continued, appreciating that they had some part of them that felt guilty.

“I mean, you’ve fought before. But me? I did nothing, I’ve been the one trying to fix your messes all the time.”

You shrugged, knowing that they could see through the fake charade you were putting on.

“We haven’t done that.”

You glared at Jisung, knowing that the sheer shock on his face. You two were siblings, it was always you getting him out of trouble, the two of you against the world.

“Maybe you’re a bigger dumbass than I thought.”

You chided, standing up and heading to leave. Pausing before actually leaving.

“I’ll be home late tonight, tell mom.”

You left the classroom, your heart beating and your mind racing. You had imagined how the three of you would make up, how everything would go back to how it used to be.

A hand grabbed your wrist, stopping you from continuing your power walk.

“Can we talk?”

Your heart fluttered, you turned to face him, removing his hand from your wrist. He was so close, you could feel his breath on your face. He smelled like strawberries, of sunshine and memories.

“I don’t have anything to say.”

A lie.

“Then listen. I like you Y/N, that’s what our fight was about. Jisung has heard me talking to Chan and got angry, that why I wasn’t around.

You shivered, your mind continued to overthink. It wasn’t like that meant he had to avoid you, they could’ve said something. You had nothing to do with the fight, you were a victim in the crossfire.

“Okay.”

You said, shrugging once more. Ready to turn around again, Lunch was almost over.

“That’s it?”

The sadness on Felix’s face was almost enough to make you ignore the fire building up in your chest, to assure him that everything was fine.

Almost.

“Yes, that’s it! What else do you want from me, Felix? I liked you too, but you ignored me! You made me feel like I was dumb and making things up between the two of us. So I appreciate your apology if you call it that, but I don’t accept.”

With one last quick glance at his sprinkles of freckles, his soft dirty blonde hair and sad eyes, you left.

Your walk turning into a run.

You were so tired, what you had wanted had come true, Felix liked you, you should be happy!

But you weren’t. Not at all.

Looking around your surroundings, you notice that you aren’t surrounded by classrooms and other teens anymore, instead by trees and other types of nature.

Picking your phone out of your pocket, you dialed the number that had become your most frequent person to talk too.

Someone who’s agreed that you were being treated badly and had allowed you to cry.

“Hi, Hyunjin. Wanna skip the rest of the day?”

Maybe it was true that first loves never worked out, but that was okay.

You had another one around the corner.

[snappedsky]

Fanatics 73.3

The mysterious agents strike against the Battalion. Previous! Next!

--

Government of Doom Part 3

           Devi sits in front of her computer, grumbling agonizingly as she struggles with a design interface. She very carefully tries to paste a scan of one of her paintings onto the document, but when she does, the picture takes up the whole page.

           “Fuck,” she grunts, “who would’ve thought being a freelance painter meant having to use computers so much.”            Her work is interrupted when the door flies open and Dib, Pepito, and Squee burst in.

           “Devi!” Squee exclaims.

           “Squee?” she questions as she gets up from her desk. “What’s going on?”

           “You okay?” he asks, “you haven’t seen anything weird? Nobody strange has approached you or anything?”

           “No,” she replies with confusion. “I haven’t even left my computer all day. Making my own business card is really hard.”

           “Oh, I could help you with that,” Dib says, “I’ve dabbled in web design.”

           “Now’s not the time, Dib,” Pepito points out.

           “Right, sorry.”

           “What’s going on?” Devi asks again.

           “We’re not really sure yet,” Squee replies, “we had to be sure nobody was in any immediate danger. Nny should be dealing with that right now.”

           “We should regroup back at Zim’s and figure out who these guys are and what they want,” Dib says.

           “Yeah,” he agrees, “I’ll get Tenna and we’ll meet you guys at the Epic.”

           Squee splits off and heads down the hall while Dib and Pepito go the opposite way, Devi following somewhat confused.  

           Squee hurries through the halls to Tenna’s apartment. But just before he can burst through the door, a chill runs up his spine and he freezes, his hand hovering over the knob.

           “Something’s happened,” Shmee warns.

           Squee remains frozen for a second longer before steeling his nerves and throwing open the door.

           The first thing he sees are two men dressed like the agents they captured. And one of them is holding unconscious Tenna under his arm.

           They both look at Squee, surprised, as he glares angrily at them. Before either of them can react, he reaches into his bag, pulls out a Flashy Bomb, and tosses it into the room. He ducks around the corner as it goes off, and the agents cry out in pain from the bright light.

           As they struggle to gather themselves, Squee races in. He spots Tenna on the floor where the agent dropped her and drapes her arm around his neck, lifting her up.

           “I got you, Ten,” he whispers as he activates his rocket wheelies. He zips backwards out of the room and runs normally down the hall as he struggles to carry Tenna and type on his phone. He sends a single message in the group chat: Danger!

           “Squee!” Shmee shouts.

           Squee turns around at the last second, just as something pierces his shoulder. His phone and Tenna slip from his arms as his body gets suddenly limp. As he falls up against the wall, he pulls a dart out of his shoulder and glares at a third agent approaching from the down the hall, a gun in his hand.

           Squee’s vision quickly grows cloudy and he collapses to the floor next to Tenna.

           Meanwhile, Dib, Pepito, and Devi are waiting in the parking lot by the Epic. Pepito and Devi lean against the vehicle while Dib paces around.

           “What’s taking Johnny so long?” he questions.

           “Johnny’s here too?” Devi asks.

           “He was gonna deal with the two agents that were watching you and Tenna,” Dib explains, “I figured he’d be done by now.”

           “Squee’s taking a while too,” Pepito adds as he watches the door to the building.

           Just then they receive a message in the group chat. After checking their phones, Dib and Pepito blanch.

           “Get in the car now!” Dib orders.

           “But what about Squee?” Pepito points out.

           “What’s going on?” Devi asks.

           “If he wanted help he would’ve said so,” Dib argues, ignoring her. “He sent that message so that we would get away.”            “What message?” Devi asks impatiently. “What’s going on?”            “Just get in the ca-!” Dib’s cut off when a dart is suddenly fired into his back. His body jolts as he chokes on his words before going completely limp and collapsing in a heap.

           “Dib!” Pepito and Devi cry.

           His eyes looking around frantically, Pepito shoves Devi to her knees behind the cover of the surrounding vehicles.

           “Get in the car, Devi,” he orders. She quickly obeys and crawls into the backseat.

           A dart flies for Pepito. With inhuman speed, he catches it and it burns up in black flames.

           “Gotcha,” he snarls and throws off his leather coat. His wings burst out of his back, through the open space of his newly designed tank top, and he takes off. He flies in the direction from where the dart came and spots one of those agents ducked behind a vehicle on the other side of parking lot, holding a sniper rifle.

           The agent aims at Pepito and fires. He swats the dart, utterly destroying it, and dive bombs towards him. The agent stands strong, gun raised, as Pepito rapidly approaches.

           Before he can attack, something splashes into Pepito from the right and his whole body burns up. He hits the ground immediately, writhing in pain, as steam rises from the clear liquid covering his body.

           “Holy water,” he snarls through gritted teeth and glares up at a second agent holding a large super soaker. The first agent approaches, drawing a pistol, and aims at Pepito. He can only lie there, in pain, as a knock-out dart is fired into his chest.

           “Nice shot,” the first agent comments to the second as he lowers his super soaker. They both look up at the door as the three inside the building exit, carrying Tenna and Squee who are both unconscious.

          “What happened to you?” the second agent asks two of them, who have very red, wet eyes.

           “Don’t ask,” one of them grumbles.

           “We’ve got one left in this area,” the first agent says, “she’s in that pink car.”

           “I’ll get her,” the third agent grunts and approaches the car. But when he peeks in the windows, he finds it empty.

           “We’ve got a runner,” he announces into his radio.

           Devi is indeed running. She slipped out the other side of the Epic and through the parking lot while the agents were busy with Pepito. Now she’s booking it down the street, wondering just what the fuck she does now.

           When she can’t run anymore, she ducks into an alley, panting as she leans against the wall. Johnny was supposed to be nearby. Where is he?  

           She hears a vehicle coming down the road and presses up flatter against the wall. A black, windowless van passes by but quickly stops just a few feet away.

           “Fuck,” Devi hisses and races down the alley. She tries to jump the fence at the end, clambering over the top, when something pierces her lower back.

           Her whole body going limp, Devi slips off the fence and back onto the dirt. Her vision quickly fades as she sees two of the agents standing over her before she passes out.

           Meanwhile, across the city, Zim and Tak with Gaz have quickly arrived to the Membrane house, only to find it devoid of spies. They look around the entire the block and scan it with Tak’s cybernetic eye but find nothing suspicious.

           “Why would they leave?” Tak asks.

           “Maybe cause Dib and I were gone,” Gaz suggests.

           “That is sloppy spying,” Zim scoffs and grabs his phone. He starts to send a message in the group chat when a message from Squee beats him to it. Gaz and Tak grab their phones to read it too.

           Danger!

           “Back to the base now!” Zim orders as his spider legs come out. Tak does the same and Gaz holds onto her before they take off. They hurry through the streets back to Zim’s house and just make it to the yard when something pierces Gaz’s side.

           “Ow!” she cries out and looks down at a dart before her body starts getting weak.

           “Gaz!” Tak exclaims as she slips from her spider legs. Tak drops to the ground and barely manages to catch the now unconscious Gaz.

           Zim skids to a stop and turns back to the girls as Tak scans the surrounding area with her cybernetic eye. She spots multiple people hiding on the roofs of the buildings all around them.

           “Zim, we’re surrounded!” she exclaims and lifts her robot hand to begin blasting the roofs to the right. Zim draws his laser guns and does the same to the roofs on the left. They immediately hear people crying out as they scramble to not get hit.

           Something flies at Tak from the shadows. Whatever it is, her spider legs smack it away and she blasts the area where it came from. But another flies at her from the opposite direction, attaching itself to one of her spider legs. She sees it’s some kind of metal device before it sends a horrible electric shock through her body.

           “Tak!” Zim exclaims as she cries out and collapses. A similar device flies at him. Zim blasts it to pieces with his gun. Another one from the back. His spider leg stabs it.

           Zim barely fends off the flying devices as he backs up to the base, feeling cornered. He has no idea what’s happened to the rest of his team and without Tak’s eye, he can’t tell where his enemies are. Just that he’s outnumbered.

           He pants as he steps into his yard and glares at his hidden opponents. Then he takes a deep breath and shouts, “Computer! Activate lockdown!”

           Immediately, the house gets covered in impenetrable metal plating with no point of entry and Zim smirks. “You won’t be getting Zim’s secrets.”

           A device flies at him along the ground and hits his boot. Immediately, he convulses as the shock travels through his body. He collapses, his guns slipping from his hands and his spider legs going limp. He sees more of those agents come out of the shadows as his visions fades. He can only hope one of his team managed to make it out.

           Across the city, on the roof of Devi and Tenna’s apartment building, two agents are backpedaling fearfully, their dart guns raised.

           “H-hit him again!” one of them orders.

           “We’ve already hit him with enough to knock out a bull elephant!” he points out, “anymore and we might stop his heart!”

           Johnny stumbles after them, about ten darts sticking out of his chest. He pants heavily as his vision swims and he struggles to stay upright. But he still advances on them like an angered beast, a knife in each hand.

           “Who cares! I don’t think he has a heart!” the first one exclaims. “Shoot him!”

           They both fire and the two darts pierce Johnny’s chest. He freezes and his shoulders slump, his knives slipping from his hand.

           “Did…did that do it?” the second agent asks.

           Without warning, Johnny lunges. Both agents scream, completely unprepared, as he tackles them. His sharp fingers dig into their throats and they gurgle on blood before he crushes them entirely.

           Johnny kneels over them, panting heavily as he lifts his bloodied hands out of their bodies. His vision is so cloudy, his head is swimming, and he barely has the strength to stand. But he knows he can’t stay here. It’s not safe.

           He shakes off the blood and starts pulling the darts out of his chest one by one as he leaves Devi’s roof by the fire escape. A tenant is sitting out on his window leading to it, enjoying a cigarette. He jumps as Johnny passes, noticing his haggard breath and bloodied hands, but Nny barely sees him.

           Johnny lumbers through back streets and dark alleys before finally reaching Grave Road after what feels like an eternity. He drags his feet up to his house and opens the door.

           “Jesus Christ, Johnny!” Cammie exclaims, sitting up on the couch. “What happened?”

           He’s not able to reply as his body finally gives out and he collapses to the floor.