#Taken Shortly Before 1:00 AM

[edwardos]

[mikerickson]

I worked as a poll worker for the first time yesterday

After the primaries in the summer, our County recognized that they had a poll worker shortage leading into the election this year and started putting out advertisements to bring new people in. I realized that I didn't know literally a single person in my life that had been a poll worker before and that it was something I had always taken for granted. With this looming shortage however, I decided to step up and do my civic duty because why not? After a three hour in-person training session and a two hour online training session, I was ready to go.

More under the cut because honestly some of these interactions with voters are kinda depressing:

I had only signed up to do a half-day shift from 5:15 AM to 1:00 PM because I figured I'd be wiped out and exhausted if I did a whole day. Well turns out that my replacement who was supposed to take up the evening shift never showed up, so I ended up staying. I got to the polling location (a local high school) at 5:00 AM and left at 9:30 PM, effectively working a 16.5 hour day with only a 1 hour lunch break. I'll get a $300 check in two weeks, which, hey, beats jury duty!

By law our polling center was supposed to open to the public at 6:00 AM sharp, but we were scrambling and not ready yet when the vote-before-work crowd started banging on the door. Very stressful start to the morning and we immediately had a big line that didn't dwindle down until about 7:30 AM. I unironically wish I had gotten there even earlier.

Our polling location had four districts, and each district had four workers (two to man the check-in table, one to operate the voting booths and ballot scanners, and one to float/rotate out every so often). I was paired with a man and a woman both in their seventies and a woman maybe in her mid forties, but they were all clearly uncomfortable with technology. Two of the other districts were also staffed by old people who just gave up at the first sign of a problem with a touch screen or a printer jam. I'm talking just a complete lack of problem-solving capabilities. I ended up running triple duty checking people in, making sure voters were set up in their booths properly, and doing on-the-fly tech support and troubleshooting. It felt rewarding multitasking and hearing, "get Mike over here, he'll fix it" over and over, but I kinda wish I didn't have to?

We only had two voters make a scene over the course of the entire day. During the morning rush right after opening a woman raised her voice asking why there was a line and stressing out that she had to leave to go to work soon (she stuck it out in line and then bolted out of there). Later around lunch time a guy at one of the other districts' tables shouted something like, "oh, so my dad can vote here but I can't?" He stormed out in a pissy mood shortly after, but I never got the full story of what was going on there.

I had one man who had recently moved and hadn't updated his registration with the board of elections, so his address didn't match what was on file. I explained that he could still vote if he did a provisional ballot, which is basically like a mail-in ballot that you put in a special envelope and leave at the polling station instead of taking it to a drop-off box. Apparently that was a step too far and he just said, "forget it..." and left. Seemed odd to me that he 1) physically drove to a voting location to vote and 2) waited in line to sign in, but that filling out a single sheet of paper was no longer worth it.

Once we were fully set up and getting into the flow of things most of the delays and reasons for lines were the voters taking too long inside the booths. It was basically a giant touchscreen monitor to select your choices, then you review everything one last time before printing a physical ballot. I had multiple people enter the booth and then wait about five minutes before calling for help saying they didn't know what to do. Also the second page/backside of the ballot was for the local Board of Education candidates, and this was really tripping up a lot of people. Also a staggering amount of people just did not see the giant "NEXT" arrow at the bottom right hand side of the screen. Poll workers are not allowed to enter the booth with them, so I had to do a lot of blind troubleshooting from the other side of the curtain.

Lots of men coming in with their wives and girlfriends and just waiting by the wall while the women voted but they didn't.

There was a smattering of young people, but not many. I did have to turn one girl away who recently turned 18 because New Jersey is not a same-day voter registration state. She was visibly bummed out and I felt bad about that.

Our oldest voter of the day was this ancient Polish woman who didn't speak a lick of English. Her daughter, who must've been in her eighties herself, had to sign a special permission slip to enter the booth with her mother to help. They were in there for a good 15 minutes, but luckily this was during a calm period of the day.

In terms of voter attire, we only had two Harris shirts and one Harris/Walz hat we had to ask people to cover up because that's not allowed within 100 feet of the polling station. Lots of Puerto Rico flags, and one guy had this obnoxious shirt of a coquí painted like the flag that I loved. Also had one man come in wearing a very sharp suit with the loudest red tie I've ever seen in my life who proudly shouted, "Let's make voting great again!" as he left after he finished.

One older Hispanic lady (I think she was Puerto Rican) had very broken English and had to do a provisional ballot for some reason. She was so worried she was going to do it wrong, but I walked her through it with my very broken Spanish and after about 20 minutes she was good to go. She was extremely thankful and gave me a hug.

I had one woman, maybe in her mid-forties, call me over to help when she was inside the booth. She asked, "why are there so many names?" I asked what she meant, and she started listing the down-ballot candidates in the other rows below President and Vice President. She said, "what is 'Senate'? What does that mean?" I explained to her that there were other contests to vote for, and after a telling pause she responded, "...okay..." Not entirely sure I got through to her.

One woman took her very young daughter into the booth with her and a few minutes later called me over. Her screen displayed a "USB device disconnected" error. I looked down and saw that the printer had been turned off. I asked how that happened and the little girl started laughing. Her mother was mortified, but I got them sorted out.

We had one teenager who we had to help insert her ballot into the scanner because her hands were shaking so violently. It was her first time voting and she was extremely nervous. I hope she's doing okay today.

Towards the end of the night this contractor with filthy hands comes in and he's clearly exhausted but wanted to vote anyway. We were shooting the breeze while he signed his voting authority and I said, "I bet I got you beat though, I woke up at 4:30 this morning." He looks up at me and deadpans, "I've been up since 3:30." I yielded and he laughed with me.

Our second-to-last voter of the day was some early-twenties guy who moseyed on in at 7:55 PM (polls legally close at 8:00 PM sharp) and said, "I heard this was going on today." Somehow he was registered and was able to get in and out in no time, but that was just such a casual remark to make that it floored me.

Our absolute last voter of the day was a woman who was on her cellphone the entire time trying to coax her husband - who was in his own car about two blocks away from the sounds of it - to hurry on over before we closed. I could hear him hemming and hawing over it, making some excuse. He didn't make it.

Closing the polls was equally as confusing and stressful as opening them was because there are a lot of very detailed ballot reports to print and specific zip ties with specific barcodes and serial numbers to close up the machines. We were missing a certain lock for the ballot bag that we was preventing all sixteen of us from leaving (no one can leave until all districts at the polling location are ready). Eventually I (because of course it was me) found it in a trash can; someone had thrown it out for some reason but no one owned up to doing it.

As we were leaving and all saying goodbye, some of the other poll workers joked, "see you guys in four years!" I pointed out that there are elections every year, and that in fact New Jersey has a gubernatorial election next year, and some of them basically said, "I didn't know that."

Overall a stressful but memorable day. Today I was talking to some co-workers that voted at different locations within my County (so using the same equipment I was trained on), and they were telling me stories of waiting between 45 minutes to two and a half hours at most. My location never got a line that bad, which maybe had to do with the location I got assigned, but it's also just as possible that me and one other guy around my age (shout out to Giovanni working District 27!) held our shit down and prevented that from happening.

It was a very long day that wiped me out. In a vacuum I don't know that I would want to do it again, but after seeing the incompetence of the standard ilk of poll workers and learning what was happening at other locations, I really feel like I need to. I'd rather these things be run by people like me than not.

[legilimensims]

Marco Setaccioli, an Italian pro-Ukraine activist and writer I follow and admire, is currently in Kyiv and I want to share this post he wrote this morning on Twitter (in Italian):

"The night that just passed was a very complicated one. Shortly after 1:00 AM, the Air Alert app (essential for security here in Ukraine), which is programmed to bypass the phone's volume settings, started to ring deafeningly, and for the first time we heard the air raid siren echoing throughout Kyiv.

Finding yourself leaning out of a window while the sound of sirens, which in your life you have only heard in war movies, echoes on streets made deserted by the curfew is something you discover you are unprepared for only when it happens and that makes you wonder whether the decision to leave for Ukraine is courage or recklessness.

A Telegram channel reports that a dozen shahed drones had taken off from Russian territory headed for various oblasts, including the capital. The alarm is called off within minutes, because the aircraft are all shot down long before reaching their destination. But two and a half years of war reporting teach anyone who has followed this criminal operation that for Vladimir Putin terror is a weapon like many others and that therefore those drones are just an appetizer, as well as a way to test the reaction of Ukrainian air defenses.

Two hours later (3:10 am) a new alarm and the sirens again. The intuition was right. This time, in fact, they are missiles from the north-east that are keeping several eastern regions on alert and again also Kyiv. Since the previous alarm I have been “sleeping” dressed and with my backpack ready, with the essentials inside. 20 minutes pass and the app warns that the alarm has been called off and a guttural voice concludes in an almost surreal way “may the force be with you”.

At 4:48 am the third alarm. The anti-aircraft sirens drown out the noise of the few cars that had started to circulate again after the end of the curfew. But the app goes crazy. Three consecutive warnings invite you not to underestimate the alert, to find safety in a shelter or to place at least two walls between you and a possible point of impact. The Telegram channel in fact reports the news of at least one ballistic missile launched from the south-east and headed towards Kyiv, an obvious target, since the Ukrainian forces penetrated Kursk.

Minutes of waiting follow, which in a mind unaccustomed to war are equivalent to hours. Then two anti-aircraft shots in the distance. The alarm is called off.

Shortly after 7, the fourth alarm in 6 hours. I am already (again) in Maidan Square to watch the wives and children of fallen soldiers bring a greeting or a flower to their heroes, in this improvised memorial that has sprung up in the center of downtown Kyiv. Three MIG-31s ​​took off from Russian territory headed who knows where, but none of the many passers-by who are already populating the streets stop even for a moment to scan the sky, something that I do almost compulsively until the alarm is called off.

In this storm of emotions, I wonder if what the Ukrainian people are showing is strength or resignation. But I believe that here between the two there is no clear boundary. After all, I think, for me it is only the first day of bombing. Those who live here and have chosen to stay have now stopped counting the days."

🌻🌻🌻

[monasteryicons]

The Two Easters and Tomorrow’s Annual Miracle

The Patriarch of Jerusalem brings out the Holy Fire from the shrine encasing the Tomb of Christ

Every year on Holy Saturday according to the Eastern Orthodox calculations, a miracle takes place in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem, where Christ was crucified and entombed, and rose from the dead. The miracle of the Holy Fire has taken place at the same time, in the same manner, in the same place every single year for centuries. No other miracle is known to occur so regularly and so steadily over time.

Beginning the afternoon of Holy Friday pilgrims wait in anticipation for the miracle, camped as close to the Holy Sepulchre as possible. Beginning at around 11:00 in the morning on Holy Saturday the Christian Arabs chant traditional hymns in a loud voice. These chants date back to the Turkish occupation of Jerusalem in the 13th century, a period in which the Christians were not allowed to chant anywhere but in the churches. "We are the Christians, we have been Christians for centuries, and we shall be forever and ever. Amen!"- they chant at the top of their voices accompanied by the sound of drums. The drummers sit on the shoulders of others who dance vigorously around the Holy Ciborium. But at 1:00 pm the chants fade out, and then there is a tense silence, charged with the anticipation of the great demonstration of God's power for all to witness.

Shortly thereafter, a delegation from the local authorities elbows its way through the crowd. At the time of the Turkish occupation of Palestine they were Muslim Turks; today they are Israelis. Their function is to represent the Romans at the time of Jesus. The Gospels speak of the Romans that went to seal the tomb of Jesus, so that his disciples would not steal his body and claim he had risen. In the same way the Israeli authorities on this Holy Saturday come and seal the tomb with wax. Before they seal the door, they follow the custom of entering the tomb to check for any hidden source of fire which would make a fraud of the miracle.

How the Miracle Occurs

The Orthodox Patriarch then enters the Holy Tomb alone. Listen to this account of Patriarch Diodorus, who was Patriarch from 1981 to 2000:

"I enter the tomb and kneel in holy fear in front of the place where Christ lay after His death and where He rose again from the dead. I find my way through the darkness towards the inner chamber in which I fall on my knees. I say certain prayers that have been handed down to us through the centuries and, having said them, I wait. Sometimes I may wait a few minutes, but normally the miracle happens immediately after I have said the prayers.

"From the core of the very stone on which Jesus lay an indefinable light pours forth. It usually has a blue tint, but the color may change and take many different hues. It cannot be described in human terms. The light rises out of the stone as mist may rise out of a lake — it almost looks as if the stone is covered by a moist cloud, but it is light. This light each year behaves differently. Sometimes it covers just the stone, while other times it gives light to the whole sepulchre, so that people who stand outside the tomb and look into it will see it filled with light. The light does not burn — I have never had my beard burnt in all the sixteen years I have been Patriarch in Jerusalem and have received the Holy Fire. The light is of a different consistency than normal fire that burns in an oil lamp.

"At a certain point the light rises and forms a column in which the fire is of a different nature, so that I am able to light my candles from it. When I thus have received the flame on my candles, I go out and give the fire first to the Armenian Patriarch and then to the Coptic. Hereafter I give the flame to all people present in the Church."

When the Patriarch comes out with the two candles lit and shining brightly in the darkness, a roar of jubilee resounds in the Church.

The miracle is not confined to what actually happens inside the little tomb, where the Patriarch prays. For the blue light is reported to appear and be active outside the tomb. Every year many believers claim that this miraculous light ignites candles, which they hold in their hands, of its own initiative. All in the church wait with candles in the hope that they may ignite spontaneously. Often unlit oil lamps catch light by themselves before the eyes of the pilgrims. The blue flame is seen to move in different places in the Church. A number of signed testimonies by pilgrims, whose candles lit spontaneously, attest to the validity of these ignitions. The person who experiences the miracle from close up by having the fire on the candle or seeing the blue light usually leaves Jerusalem changed.

How Old is the Wonder?

The first written account of the Holy Fire dates from the fourth century, but authors write about events that occurred in the first century. So Saints John Damascene and Gregory of Nissa narrate how the Apostle Peter saw the Holy Light in the Holy Sepulchre after Christ's resurrection. "One can trace the miracle throughout the centuries in the many itineraries of the Holy Land," writes the Russian abbot Daniel, in his itinerary written in the years 1106-07.

Only the Greek Patriarch

The awesome honor of invoking the miracle of the Holy Fire is reserved for the Orthodox Patriarch – literally reserved by divine fiat. Several times over the centuries clergy from other churches or Moslem conquerors tried to exclude the Patriarch from the Holy Sepulchre on Holy Saturday. When this was attempted in 1579, as the Orthodox Patriarch Sophrony IV stood sorrowfully with his flock at the exit of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre near the left column, a divine light split this column vertically and the Holy Fire flashed out near the Orthodox Patriarch. A Muslim Muezzin, called Tounom, who saw the miraculous event from an adjacent mosque, immediately abandoned the Muslim religion and became an Orthodox Christian. The split column can be seen to this day.

Seeing is Believing

Numerous online videos of the Holy Fire are available on YouTube. One of the best is this 30 minute documentary:

"For those who believe, no explanation is necessary. For those who do not believe, no explanation is possible."

The Two Easters

Easter is a moveable feast, meaning it is not fixed in relation to the civil calendar. The First Council of Nicaea (325 A.D.) established the date of Easter as the first Sunday after the full moon (the Paschal Full Moon) following the northern hemisphere's vernal equinox. The date of Easter therefore varies between March 22nd and April 25th.

Why do the Western and Eastern churches sometimes celebrate Easter on different dates?

The Eastern churches base their calculations of the date for Easter on the Julian Calendar whose March 21 corresponds, during the 21st century, to April 3 in the Gregorian Calendar. So their celebration of Easter therefore varies between April 4 and May 8.

[truecrimecrystals]

Katelyn Markham was just days shy of turning 22 years-old when she vanished in August 2011. At the time of her disappearance, Katelyn was a student at The Art Institute of Ohio, and she was passionate about her studies. She was also working two jobs and participating in an internship. By all accounts, she was a responsible person and reliable employee. Katelyn's disappearance left both her inner circle and investigators baffled. After Katelyn was reported missing, it was determined that she was last seen alive by her fiancé, John Carter. On the evening of August 13th, John went over to Katelyn's condo in Fairfield, Ohio after she had finished her day at work. A friend of Katelyn's also came over to hang out with the couple, but she ended up leaving after she sensed tension between Katelyn and John. The friend noticed that Katelyn seemed quiet, which John said was due to magic mushrooms that the two of them had taken.

According to John, he left Katelyn's condo between 11:00 PM and midnight to go hang out with some friends who were having a bonfire. The couple reportedly continued to text throughout the night. Katelyn sent her final text shortly before 1:00 AM. She was never seen or heard from again. John returned to his own home around 4:00 AM. He sent a "good morning" text to Katelyn shortly before going to sleep until the late afternoon. When he awoke to go to his job at Papa John's, he noticed Katelyn had not responded to the text. John said he continued to call or text her throughout the afternoon, but he never got a response. Worried, he left his job early to go check on Katelyn at her condo.

  John used his own key to enter the residence. When he got there, nothing seemed out of place - except Katelyn's dog, which was found locked in an upstairs bedroom. This was not the usual spot where Katelyn kept her dog. It also appeared that the dog had not been let out at all that day, which was unusual. Additionally, Katelyn's car was parked in its normal spot outside the home, but Katelyn herself was nowhere to be found. At this point, the worries for Katelyn continued to build. Soon, John learned that Katelyn's friends and family members had not heard from her either. He also learned that Katelyn had never shown up from her scheduled shift at David's Bridal. Shortly before 8:00 PM, John called police to report Katelyn as missing. The search began shortly thereafter. Over the next few weeks, volunteers passed out fliers, and search teams scoured the surrounding areas. Unfortunately, nothing was found. Over time, Katelyn's case went cold. Police followed tips and conducted interviews, but they seemingly got no closer to locating her. Then, on April 7th, 2013, human remains were found at Big Cedar Creek in Cedar Grove, Indiana - located approximately 30 miles from Katelyn's condo. A couple was searching for scrap metal in the area when they spotted what looked like a human jaw wrapped in a grocery bag. Police were called, and a search of the area resulted in the discovery of more remains. Dental records later confirmed that the remains belong to Katelyn Markham.

[read more]

[cobrakaisb]

5 times robby fell in love with you + 1 time he actually said it

requested: no

a/n: hey besties it’s been a hot minute! i promise that part two of modern day romeo and juliet is in the works but here is a little robby imagine because i have been in my robby feels lately. :)

summary: read the title besties :) you and robby are already dating in this imagine. 

word count: 1832

one: wheel training

“i don’t know about this mr. larusso,” you mumble as you take your sweatshirt off to climb into the pond. robby was already in there, shivering from the coolness of the water. “you’ll be fine y/n,” mr. larusso says encouragingly. you nod, slowly entering the shallow pond with robby’s help. together the two of you approach the wheel in the middle, each of you on your respective sides. “okay now climb on,” mr. larusso instructs, and you look nervously at robby, who just nods. together the two of you climb onto the wheel.

after countless tries and many failed attempts the two of you were able to perform the technique semi-decently. “we did it!” you shout as you come up from the water. robby and mr. larusso laugh at your excitement. you splash some water up in the air, laughing as the droplets hit your skin on the way down. robby looks at you adoringly, a smile on his face. “alright you two, that’s enough for today. i’ll see you tomorrow,” mr. larusso says, smiling at the two of you as he walks towards the house. 

once he’s inside the house, robby wades through the water to you. “we did it robby!” you cheer, throwing your arms around his shoulders, a proud smile on your face. “yes we did baby,” he answers, resting his forehead against yours. “just imagine us doing that in a fight! we’d be unstoppable!” you exclaim and robby just nods his head. he wasn’t really paying attention to what you were saying, instead he was thinking about how happy you made him and how contagious your smile was.    

two: during the mall fight

“get behind me,” you instruct demetri, pushing the tall boy behind you, while sam took care of the others. “back off,” sam tells hawk, and you nod your head, getting into your fighting stance. hawk scoffs at the three of you. “i don’t want to have to hit a girl,” he says, looking between you and sam. now it was your turn to scoff. “funny how you think you’d even stand a chance against us,” you say confidently. now robby was beside you, the three of you covering demetri.

“five against four. more like three and a half,” hawk remarks, nodding towards his friends, signaling the start of the fight. you were fighting off two boys in the back while robby was fighting off two of them in the front. sam was taking care of some boy towards the middle of the group, while demetri just stood in the center, not fighting anyone. slowly, one by one, you and your friends had taken down the cobra kais, well all of them except for hawk. 

you look over your shoulder to see hawk charging towards you robby, who was cornered up against a table. you knew that robby could handle himself, but a wave of protectiveness washed over you. the next thing you know, hawk was lying on the floor of the food court while you stood in front of robby. everyone ohed at the sight of hawk lying on the ground, but you didn’t pay them any mind. you turn to face robby, grabbing his face in your hands. “are you alright?” you ask, looking over him worriedly. robby chuckled at you, pulling you into a tight hug. “i’m fine baby, thank you,” he answers with nothing but admiration in his voice as he kisses your forehead.  

three: he catches you singing

robby jogs up the stairs to your room. today the two of you were taking a break from karate and planning on watching a movie together. robby knocks on the door, but there was no answer. he cracks the door open and sees you jumping around your room. you were wearing one of his shirts and a pair of shorts, your hair brush in your hand, as you belted out the lyrics to teenage dirtbag. “oh yeah! dirtbag!” you sing along with zayn malik. robby smiles as he watches you sing and dance around the room. 

now you were standing in front of your mirror, pointing to yourself as you sang, completely engrossed in the song. at one point you tilt your head back, really getting into it. robby continues to watch you sing the song, a loving smile on his face the entire time. he only makes himself known when he claps his hands once the song ends. you freeze, turning towards the door where your boyfriend is clapping. a blush immediately coats your cheeks, as you throw your hairbrush on your bed. 

“i didn’t take you as a singer y/n,” robby points out, stepping into your room. your blush turns an even deeper shade of red as you look away from his hazel eyes. robby closes the distance between the two of you, placing a loving kiss on your lips. “i thought it was cute,” robby confesses once you seperate. “especially since you’re wearing my shirt,” he continues, a giggle escaping your mouth. “stop being cheesy,” you say, pushing him away from you. “but you love it,” he remarks, sitting down on your bed. you roll your eyes, “i guess.”    

four: your date at the roller rink

it was 80s night at the roller rink, and you and robby were long overdue for a date night. you and robby decided to go as people from the outsiders. robby as a soc and you as a greaser. “an enemies to lovers typa beat,” you explain, fixing his jacket. robby just nods along, too busy admiring you in your ripped jeans and leather jacket. 

“i’ll go get the skates. wait here,” robby says, kissing your cheek as he walks towards the rental counter. shortly after, robby comes back with two pairs of skates. “thanks robby,” you say, placing a chaste kiss on his lips as he sits down on the bench next to you. “okay ready?” robby asks, and you nod, grabbing his hand as the two of you head over to the roller rink. 

together you skate leisurely around the rink. laughing and singing along to the 80s songs that the dj is playing. while the two of you are skating hand in hand when the song i would die 4 u by prince comes on. “oh my gosh! i love this song!” you cheer, excitement all over your face. robby chuckled at your words, “i know. i may have put in a request with the dj.” you smile so big when robby said that. “you’re the best robby,” you say, and robby could tell that your words were genuine. robby just smiled at you, listening to you sing along with prince.       

five: midnight baking session

you couldn’t sleep. it was 12:00 at night, and you could not fall asleep. robby on the other hand, was fast asleep. well you thought he was fast asleep when you left your room to go to the kitchen. it turns out that robby wasn’t asleep because he was now standing in the kitchen, watching as you grabbed different ingredients. “what are you doing y/n? it’s twelve am,” robby asks, a tired yawn escaping him. “i couldn’t sleep so i decided to make some brownies. want to help?” you ask him, and you're practically begging him with your eyes to say yes. “why not,” robby mumbles, joining you. 

“yes! okay so can you go get the medium saucepan? it’s in that cabinet over there,” you instruct, pointing towards the cabinet. robby nods tiredly and gets you the pan, wrapping his arms around your waist once he brings it to you. “tired?” you ask him, measuring out the flour. “just a bit,” robby replies, resting his head on your shoulder, kissing your neck. you giggle, moving your head away from him. “stop that tickles,” you say, looking at the snoop dogg cookbook. 

about forty minutes later, you and robby are sitting on the couch watching friends and eating brownie sundaes. “these brownies are so good,” robby says, basically moaning at the taste. “yeah babe? do you like them?” you ask, cuddled up to his side. robby nods vigorously. “they are so good. you better make these more often,” he says, looking at you. “i will,” you promise and robby nods gratefully. the two of you continue to watch the show and eat your ice cream.

“hey i’m done. do you want me to put your bowl in the sink?” robby asks, sitting up from his spot on the couch. “yes please,” you respond, handing him the empty bowl. robby takes it from you, but not before placing a kiss on your cheek. “what was that for?” you ask, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “you had some chocolate there, and maybe i just wanted to kiss you,” robby replies and a huge smile encompasses your face. 

it was now three am and george lopez was playing. you were asleep on robby’s chest, while he was watching the show. “i love you robby,” you mumble tiredly, cuddling into his chest more. robby tenses at your words, but he smiles and places a kiss on your forehead, quietly repeating the phrase back to you.    

one: when you visit him in jail

you sat down at the table, waiting for robby to come out. you were fidgeting with the tupperware of brownies you brought for him. even though you had come to visit robby multiple times, you always got nervous waiting for him. the door opened and teenage boys were walking into the room. your eyes immediately searching for robby. he saw you right away, and walked over to your table.

“hi robby,” you say quietly once he sits down. robby gives you a small smile, “hi baby.” it was quiet for a minute, but you quickly broke the silence by shoving the tupperware container towards him. “i made you brownies. the snoop dogg ones because they’re your favorite,” you explain and robby smiles widely at you, grabbing your hand that was resting on the table. 

“thanks. i’ll eat them as soon as i can,” he says truthfully. “are you okay? they haven’t been bugging you have they?” you ask him quietly, looking over his face for any bruises or cuts. robby chuckles at how worried you are. “i’m fine y/n, i promise. you don’t need to worry about me,” robby says and you roll your eyes at him. “i worry because i care and because i love you,” you answer, casually slipping that three word phrase in there. robby sits there in shock for a minute before an even bigger smile takes over his face. “i love you too y/n,” he says, squeezing your hand. a smile as big as robby’s takes over your face too. 

“so what’s been going on?” robby asks and you immediately jump into a ramble about the newest book that you’ve been reading. meanwhile, robby just smiles, proud of himself for finally telling you how he feels. 

taglist: @iwantahockeyhimbo @estupidteen​ @funprincess101​ @mrfeenyisswag   

[parksunghoonbro]

come here》 p.sh {pt.3}

«───────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ─────────»

<3 pairing: chaebol!stepbrother!sunghoon x chaebol!fem!reader                   (some chaebol!bestfriend!soobin x reader)

<3 genre: angst, fluff

<3 warning: sunghoon gets jealous, he is unwillingly an asshole, making out, mentions of love (sorry if any of you guys are triggered by anything else)

<3 word count: 1.9k 

<3 summary: park sunghoon, the most popular rich boy around town, who you are super attracted to becomes your stepbrother. what happens when you realize that he is also extremely attracted to you?

<3 xtra stuff: Soobin is the same age as Sunghoon. They are both 20 while y/n is 18 (2 years older). If you guys have watched Tempted/The Great Seducer y/n and soobin’s hang out is inspired by Shihyun, Sooji, and Sejoo’s (the three friend’s) hideout. (Soobin and y/n have been friends since y/n was born. Like 2-year old Soobin held y/n when she was a newborn)

«───────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ─────────»

You wake up to being surrounded by a comforting warmth. You felt Sunghoon’s muscular arms wrapped around your waist and your face against his chest. After a couple of minutes of admiring the face of the man in front of you, you remember that you had an appointment with your stylist at 10:00 to plan an outfit for an event that your mother’s company has every year. It currently was 8:13, so you tried to squee yourself out of Sunghoon’s tight hold. Finally being able to sit up you were about to get out of his bed, but you suddenly felt two strong arms pull you back into bed. “Where do you think you’re going?” Sunghoon asked in his raspy morning voice. “I have to get ready to meet with my stylist later.” You responded snuggling back into his hold. Sunghoon groaned softly shoving his pace into the crook of your neck smelling your addictive scent. “Just cancel and stay with me,” Sunghoon whined. You wish you could stay but you had to go. This event was a pretty big one. ”What are you meeting your stylist for anyways?” Sunghoon asked curiously. “My mom has this big event that she hosts every year and I need to go to a fitting for the brand I am representing today.” You answered in a soft tone. Sunghoon thought for a little and then jokingly asked with a small chuckle, ”So who’s gonna be the lucky man who gets to be your date?” You suddenly remembered something. You were going to have a date! You blanked out wondering who it was this year. Of course, you wanted it to be Sunghoon, but it was obviously not him. the Assuming from a joking tone you’re sure that he doesn’t know that you’re going to have a date. “I don’t need a date.” You said with a flip of your hair. “I’m perfectly fine by myself.” Sunghoon grinned, “That’s my girl” After cuddling a bit more you finally got out of the bed and got ready. «───────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ─────────» Arriving at the salon you met your stylist. “Y/N!” You heard your names being called so you turned around. “Sohee unnie!” Your stylist of 8 years smiled. “Are you ready for this?” You smiled,”Yup! I’m ready” After hours and hours of looking over dresses, makeup, and hairstyles you finally finished your look. Since you were done you started to pack up. “Oh right! Before you go I have to tell you who your date is!“ Yoy looked back in anticipation of who it was although you already had someone you were almost 100% sure who it was and Sohee continued,”You’re date this year is the one and only Choi Soobin as always.” Yup. That’s right. Your date and the person you were expecting was Choi Soobi, your date since you were children. Choi Soobin was your best friend and although he lives in Jeju now you guys are still very close. He comes and visits every once in a while for events, meetings, and of course just to see his best friend of 17 years. When you finished your small conversation with Sohee you went home.

«───────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ─────────»

Walking through the door all you saw was darkness. The lights were off. No one was home. You wondered where Sunghoon was, but you didn’t worry because it was only 5:30 pm.

-2:00 am-

Its already 2:00 am and Sunghoon isn’t home yet. You’ve called him a couple times and he didn’t pick up. You were worried sick and you were waiting on the couch.

«───────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ─────────»

It was the next morning and you woke up in your bed with the amazing feeling of warmth next to you. You smiled Sunghoon was home. You turned around and saw Sunghoon looking back at you. He smiled at you and pulled you in closer to kiss your forehead. “Why did you wait for my love? When I got home you were asleep on the couch in your clothes and without a blanket! I was so worried that you were gonna get sick.” You put your hands on his stomach and started to touch it. “I was worried!” Sunghoon had an amused face by now, “Worried enough to fall asleep?” “Shut up” You answered back. Sunghoon raised his eyebrows. “Is that a challenge?” You panicked and jumped out of bed. Sunghoon laughed at you and stood up. “Let’s get ready and eat breakfast.”  After getting ready you came down to the kitchen to see Sunghoon already sitting at the table with breakfast ready waiting for you. “Where are you going today?” Sunghoon stroked your head, ”Yesterday my stylist informed me that I would be attending your mom’s event. Today I have a fitting.” You smiled and shortly after it faded. You realized that he would have to have a date. Everyone brought a date that their stylist chooses and of course sometimes with the assistance of the person, but the thing that irked you the most was that his date wasn’t going to be you and it would be some other girl. Sunghoon noticed the change and mood and asked why you were upset. “What do you mean? I am not upset.” You said in a normal tone. Raising his eyebrows in confusion Sunghoon decided to not ask questions and answer with a simple “ok”. After a breakfast of hand-holding and flirting Sunghoon left.

«───────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ─────────»

Being at home alone was becoming a little boring. You thought it was surprising that you weren’t enjoying it because you’re a homebody, but maybe it was because you had spent so much time with Sunghoon. You were about to go out alone, but suddenly your phone rang. You checked the caller id. 🐰Binnie 🐰. Soobin was calling you. You excitedly picked up the phone. 

“Soobin! I missed you.”

“I missed you too. I heard auntie is getting married again. Are you okay cutie?”

“Yeah, I guess. Surprisingly I hope this marriage doesn’t last.”

“Why? Isn’t your mom getting married to Park Sungho, Park Sunghoon’s dad?

“That’s why Soobin!”

“Ohhh. Even though you don’want them to last they seemed pretty happy Y/N. I met your mom and Mr. Park in Jeju before I left.”

“I know I shouldn’t be selfish. WAIT rewind. You are in Seoul!?”

“Yes, dummy when am I ever not in Seoul before the gala? I have moved away from you for 2 years already and you haven’t remembered my schedule.”

“Well Soobin I am a busy girl”

“More like distracted. But let’s meet up now. I wanna hang out with my date!”

“Hmph. Alright, let’s meet. Our place?”

“Of course see you there”

“Bye”

«───────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ─────────»

-Flashback-

(7th grade y/n)

“Soobin look at it! It is perfect!” you exclaimed looking at the place in front of you. You guys’ mothers had built a hang out for you and Soobin in a secret room behind a big painting on the first floor of their newly merged company building. “It is. This is our place from now on!” Soobin said back providing the same energy. 

Soon even as you guys grew older it stayed as you guys’ place where no one else knew the password and was allowed not even your parents. It became a comfortable place for both of you guys where you guys would go to find each other no matter what.

«───────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ─────────»

-At the Hideout-

“Soobin? Come out! I know you’re in here” You stated in a loud voice. “Boo!” “AHHH!” Soobin laughed at you until he was on the ground. “Choi Soobin you’re dead!” You said annoyed. Soobin realized that he had messed up and ran for his life up the stairs to the loft. You chased after him. When you got to the too you couldn’t see him. Then all of a sudden you felt a pair of strong arms pin your hands to your back. “Ha! Got you!” Soobin said with his signature smile. He let you go and hugged you which you gladly returned. You guys hung out for the rest of the day getting food, shopping, and playing video games in the hang-out. What felt like 10 minutes was 10 hours. You didn’t realize it but soon it was 1 am. Soobin looked at the clock and his eyes widened, “I should get you home now little one. It is late.” You looked at the clock shocked, ”Yes, I should get home now.” You guys turned off the TV and the lights and started to walk home. Yes, walk home. This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence with you and Soobin. Starting in high school you guys would always hang out until late into the night and walk home even though you only had to have one call to get home by car. Your houses were close to the hangout and it gave you a taste of what it felt like to live like normal kids. Not heirs to big companies, not kids who were born with silver spoons in their mouths, not brand ambassadors, just normal kids. You have always felt safe around Soobin. Soobin was your haven and will always be your haven.

«───────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ─────────»

When you guys got to your house Soobin walked you to your door and you hugged him bye as always. Not until you get to the door did you start worrying about Sunghoon. Unlocking the door, you quietly took off your shoes and started into the house. Not even getting halfway to your room you were stopped by a fuming Sunghoon. “What were you doing out this late!? I was worried sick! And who was that guy who walked you through the door!?” You were taken aback. Sunghoon had never raised his voice at you. Suddenly feeling vulnerable you answered in a nervous, small voice. Studdering you said, ”M-my friend came back from Jeju to visit. We were just hanging out.” Sunghoon in a loud and intimidating voice said, “There is no reason for you to be hanging out this late! Especially with another boy. Are you even hanging out!? What if you’re doing something else? You said you wanted to see where things go with us, baby!” “How could you say that?” Your eyes filled with tears. You couldn’t take it anymore so you ran into your room and started sobbing. Realizing that he had hurt you Sunghood ran upstairs. Sunghoon felt a pang of guilt hit his heart hearing your sobs outside of your room. He knocked on the door. “C-come in,” you said quietly from inside your room. “Oppa is sorry princess. I just got worried and jealous and I couldn’t hold it in. I didn’t mean to make you cry. Please don’t be upset with me.” Sunghoon said his eyes brimming with tears seeing how he had hurt you. “It’s okay oppa. I understand.” You said as you came closer to him cuddling into his side. He grabbed you tightly and pulled you into his chest as he laid next to you. Sunghoon suddenly had an urge to kiss you, so he landed his lips on yours, and you guys passionately made out until one of you guys had to pull away for air. “I love you princess.” Sunghoon seriously stated. “I love you too, oppa.” you said back, and that night you guys fell asleep happily and full of love.

«───────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ─────────»

[secretpajamas]

a different kind of rush;

an Ezra x reader fic

pairing: ezra (prospect) x female reader

rating: explicit

genre: romance/smut/and they were roommates (oh my god they were roommates)

words: 2.7k

part 1 of 2

please scroll to the end to “content” if you would like to know specific smut-related content before reading!

---

Ever since the rush ended, mining work was somewhat scarce. Most aurelac miners—the ones who didn’t strike it rich, had already squandered away their profits, or ones that worked under flat-rate contract and not profit-share—had been swept up by the large-scale mining companies at the Ephrate.

You, unfortunately, had a falling-out with the head of your crew shortly before the end of the rush, and you were left out in the cold with little more than the clothes on your back and the helmet on your head. 

Now you operated alone, picking up what seasonal jobs you could. The ones that payed more tended to be more dangerous—you had a good sense as to which jobs would require you to stash extra knives on your person and demand your own private tent. That demand would often eat into your wages, but it was worth the peace of mind.

You were coming up on the last of your income from last season, which is how you found yourself scouting shuttle stations for work. Most of the bulletins at the larger stations were already picked clean. Now, at one of the smallest stations in the Reach, you hoped against hope you’d find a decent job posting.

Mostly scrap haul jobs—one odd request for a live-in massage therapist, and you knew what that was code for—but when you were about to give up and move on, one last blip on the readout screen caught your eye.

seeking experienced miner for short-term contract work (one season). small-scale operation, compensation negotiable. food and board included. helmet must be supplied by employee, O2 freely available. radio callsign alpha-echo-six, will be monitoring channel 07:00 – 23:00 universal time.

It was contract work, not profit-share, but what the hell. It was the best you had come across in your search so far and you doubted you’d find anything better. Checking the screen, you noted it was nearly 23:00—but you pulled out your radio, entered the posted callsign, and gave it a shot.

“This is radio callsign alpha-sierra-two, inquiring about job posting on shuttle station R-Twelve,” you said into your device. “Is the position still open?”

You waited for a minute in dead silence before you heard the line crackle to life. “Hello, alpha-sierra-two,” a thick drawl replied. “Long as you can hold a pickaxe steady, the job’s as good as yours.”

---

When you met him, the first thing you noticed was the shock of blonde hair. Nobody out in the Reaches had much use for cosmetic hair products, so it must have been a natural occurrence of some sort. It struck you as profoundly odd—but also incredibly attractive. You took a deep breath and swallowed down the nervous lump in your throat.

The second thing you noticed—well. It was a little hard to miss.

“Name’s Ezra,” he said with a sly smile, extending his left—and only—hand.

You weren’t sure which hand you were supposed to shake his with. You decided on your left, to match his. It took some fumbling, but you managed a firm shake in the end. You introduced yourself and then let your hands drop.

“Sorry if that was weird,” you said, “I’m not used to shaking hands with my left.”

Ezra chuckled darkly. “Me neither, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. Normally, you’d hate hearing that come from a man you’d just met. It would’ve felt like a belittlement. But not with this man—it just seemed to roll off his tongue without a second thought.

Then, you realized the implication of his statement. If he wasn’t used to shaking with his left, the loss of his right arm must not have been too long ago. In this line of work, any number of horrors could have caused it. You decided it was best not to dwell on the subject.

“Allow me to escort you to your quarters,” Ezra said, gesturing for you to follow.

He brought you to the only man-made structure within sight. He must have built it himself. He zipped the entryway door shut and clumsily removed his helmet with one hand. You swiftly removed yours, glad to get the sweaty thing off of you for the first time in hours.

The tent was sturdy and spacious enough to feel a little less like a hovel and a little more like a home. It was certainly nicer than most accommodations you’d been given on mining contract work before. There were two beds—well, just cushioned mats on the floor, but definitely an upgrade from a cot—separated by makeshift room divider in the form of a bedsheet tied between two of the tent supports.

“I can fashion a proper partition if you’d prefer,” he said, “the kid was prone to nightmares is all. Didn’t like feelin’ shut off. Took that tent wall down the next day, put the sheet up instead.”

“Kid?” You prompted.

“She’s livin’ in the Ephrate this season,” he said. “Got a scholarship to that fancy Academy an’ everything. Awful proud of her.” You could hear the fondness in his voice.

“That’s nice,” you said,  “she must have a good father.”

Ezra chuckled, the sound tinged with something bitter. “Unfortunately, I do not hold such a grand title,” he said. “Her parents are deceased. I am but her guardian.”

Oh.

“Well, get yourself settled and join me outside when you’re ready,” he said as he went to retrieve his helmet. “It’s not as complicated as aurelac, but it’s still a bitch to mine.”

---

After just a few days of harvesting starstone, you were inclined to agree with Ezra’s statement. It was an absolute bitch. If you so much as tapped it at the wrong angle it would completely lose its integrity. Then, as soon at was harvested, it had to be soaked in a complicated solution of enzymes so it would retain its color—if you waited too long to get it in the enzyme bath, it would turn pale and lose its shimmer. How the hell anyone managed to transport it without massive damages, you had no idea.

You voiced this to him. He simply shrugged. “Not my problem,” he said. “The buyer is arrangin’ her own transport. We just have to hand it off.”

“What is this stuff good for, anyway?” You asked.

“It’s pretty,” he said, “and if there’s one thing I’ve become privy to in all my years of prospectin’, it’s that all sorts of folk will pay a pretty penny for pretty things. ’Specially if those things are rare.”

“There’s no accounting for taste, I guess,” you mumbled, looking at the bright green and orange whorls of glittery stone around the two of you. Ezra snickered at your comment, and the sound of the raspy, almost boyish laughter made your stomach do somersaults.

“I can assume you have no such affinity for pretty things, then,” he said with a grin.

“Well,” you started, looking into those pretty brown eyes of his, “now and I again I might.”

Ezra just arched an eyebrow before returning to sifting through rock.

---

You and Ezra fell into an easy rhythm. He would wake up early to prepare the enzyme solutions for the day’s mining. You both mined as long as it stayed light out, going back into the tent as needed for a ration bar or a toilet break or just to rest your weary head for a minute. After dark, it was your responsibility to prep the filters and O2 tanks. As days turned into weeks, you found yourself finally adjusting to the man’s odd manner of speech, and even found yourself laughing at his dry wit.

And if you were honest with yourself, you were harboring quite the crush.

But this was job, damnit, and even if it wasn’t profit-share, Ezra payed far more than any other boss you’d had for contract work. You weren’t going to compromise that. A sexual relationship with someone who was technically your superior was never a good idea—you didn’t want to get yourself kicked off this planet without a full season’s pay.

This dwarf planet’s climate wasn’t as harsh and unforgiving as the Green. The air wasn’t breathable, which is why oxygen tanks and helmets were necessary, but there was nothing like the deadly moon’s dust you remember from the rush days. The one complaint you had: the weather was always hot, some days painfully so, and today was one of those days. You had both decided to cut the workday short and stumbled back to the tent, sweaty and exhausted.

You wrenched your helmet off of your head and immediately planted yourself in front of one of the air circulators. You heard Ezra’s helmet fall to the floor with a clank and several frustrated grunts as he began to unzip his suit. You knew by now not to offer help—even though it took him a long time to dress and undress, it seemed to be a point of pride to him that he do it himself.

You shucked off your own suit, leaving yourself standing in a sleeveless top and shorts. Cooler now, but still utterly worn-out, you all but flung yourself on your cot. You rucked up your shirt so you left as much of your skin exposed to the air as possible without stripping down to your underwear.  “Too fucking hot,” you grumbled.

“Preachin’ to the choir, birdie,” Ezra replied, finally kicking his suit off and out of the way. “Pardon my selfishness, but I’m inclined to take the first shower.”

You groaned, but you had taken the first shower yesterday, so you didn’t protest. Ezra took long showers—you guessed it was because of his arm situation—so you’d have to wait to get all the sweat and grime off. But hey—at least you had a shower. In some of your past gigs you had to wipe yourself down from head to toe with a wet rag.

The shower was attached to the main tent on the east-facing wall: your side of the sheet. Ezra walked by you to access it—he was shirtless, clad only in the pair of black compression pants he wore under his suit. You couldn’t help but sneak a look at him from where you lay—you had come to appreciate the broad expanse of his back and shoulders, his skin kissed all over with fading white scars, the little paunch of his stomach, and the dusting of dark hair that began below his bellybutton and traveled down beneath his waistband. He sighed and stretched before unzipping the partition and shuffling tiredly to the shower.

Seeing him half-naked had lit a spark in your belly. You swallowed thickly, your mind trailing into territory you usually reserved for late at night when Ezra was asleep. Yes, you were attracted to him—but it was more than just a baser instinct. Whenever you got yourself off in the past—or gotten someone else off—it had been quick and quiet and easily forgotten, something to take the edge off, to scratch an itch. You never really fantasized about romance or, Kevva forbid, love, but the longer you spent with Ezra, the more you caught yourself wondering what he would be like as a lover—if he’d hold you gently against his chest after, if he’d press a soft kiss to your forehead, if he’d tell you that you were beautiful.

You scoffed at yourself. Fantasies like that were for naive girls, not for a grown woman, especially not a world-weary miner who knew that men in the Reaches weren’t like that.

But maybe Ezra was different. He was already far different than any man you had ever met.

And maybe you could allow yourself the fantasy.

As you listened to the hum of the shower running, confident in your assertion that Ezra wouldn’t be out for some time—you snaked one hand down under the waistband of your shorts and underwear, rubbing at yourself in the way you usually did—in the way that would make you orgasm quickly. If you drew things out, that just gave your brain time to strike up ridiculous fantasies of Ezra making love to you.

Making love. There you go again. Why can’t you just call it fucking? But what you were thinking of wasn’t fucking—would he gaze into your eyes as he filled you? Would he whisper to you how good you felt, call you sweetheart like he did the first day you met—and nearly every day since?

Damn it, you said you wouldn’t think about it, but here you were. You rubbed yourself faster, just hoping to get this over with and move the fuck on—

“Shower’s all yours,” you heard Ezra’s voice ring out, and you froze. You didn’t breathe, didn’t move a muscle. How had you not heard the water turn off? How long were you daydreaming?

There was no way Ezra didn’t know what you were doing. You didn’t even have the plausible deniability of having a blanket over you. You were so fucked.

You moved your head a tiny fraction to look at Ezra. He had a threadbare towel around his waist, precariously held by a twist-and-tuck at his hip. He was staring at you, wide-eyed and stock-still, as droplets dripped down his forehead from his still-wet hair. You weren’t sure he was even breathing.

Neither of you moved.

Then, Ezra licked his lips, flicking his eyes from your face down to where your hand was still stuck in your shorts, then back to your eyes again. Slowly, deliberately. He quirked an eyebrow at you.

You hitched your hips up a little under his gaze, almost involuntarily. He watched the movement with intensity.

Fuck. Was this really happening?

Ezra brought his hand up to his mouth, rubbing at his lower lip with his thumb. He looked to where your hand was trapped between your legs, and gestured with a nod.

With your heartbeat hammering against your chest, you began to move your hand again, eyes locked on Ezra. His breath hitched as he watched you touch yourself, his eyes intent on your body, pupils blown wide and dark.

You rubbed at your clit, your legs tensing as you brought your hips up to press into your hand. Unable to help it, a moan escaped your throat, and Ezra answered back with a low hum of his own.

Hearing him respond to you made your body light up like lightning. You closed your eyes and sucked in frantic bursts of air. The oppressive heat around you was unbearable, the pressure building in your core even more so. Your pulse roared against your eardrums as you frantically worked at your clit, almost sore now, needing to come now more than ever, needing that release—

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Ezra said, and the sound of his voice had you coming hard, thighs shaking. You chased your high as long as you could, clit nearly rubbed raw, until you winced at the overstimulation, dropping your hips back to the bed and letting out a heaving sigh. Almost in a daze, you opened your eyes, chancing a glance at Ezra. He was staring down at you as if he’d seen Kevva’s gates open up before him. He was also visibly tenting his towel, holding onto where it was tied at his hip in a vise-like grip.

“I’m,” you started, catching your breath, “I could use a shower now.”

“As very well could I,” Ezra replied as he shifted his weight back and forth, voice strained, “an’ a cold one at that. But I’d be remiss to waste the water.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled. About the shower or the impromptu peepshow, you weren’t sure.

“Quite alright. But don’t be alarmed if you emerge to find me in a similar position when you’re done in there,” he remarked, gesturing to the shower with a jerk of his head.

You planted your face in your pillow, mortified beyond belief, hot shame washing over you. Ezra simply chuckled.

“No reason to be embarrassed, sweetheart,” he said. “Close quarters make for... sticky situations such as these.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled as you stood up, walking past Ezra to make your way to the shower.

What the fuck just happened?

---

a/n: this was supposed to be a quick smutty oneshot (oops) but it was getting long so I’ve split it into two parts! Part two should be out by the end of this week.

content: masturbation, voyeurism (but is it voyeurism if both parties are aware of the voyeur-ing?)

READ PART 2 HERE

[leah-halliwell92]

Princeling

Summary: After seeing what the Dursley’s are when it comes to Muggles, Professor Minerva McGonagall makes the judgement call to take Harry in before the worse can happen.

Part 1 – Part 2 – Part 3 – Part 4 – Part 5

Previously:

“Good morning Aberforth,” Severus said without turning.

Minerva gasped when she saw Abe at the doorway. Could that really be him?

Aberforth shifted on his feet but stood his ground, he wouldn’t to be cowed by his nerves. Changes are happening, and he was going to do his very best to roll with it, as the saying goes, and land on his feet as his own man after years of being under his brother’s shadow.

//00//00//

Part VI

The trio and babe had their breakfast in a companionable silence. They would occasionally shift their attention to Harry as cooed and laughed as he ate his scrambled eggs and bacon. 

Severus, ever mindful of what he is lacking baby wise, made a note to hire a nanny elf for the days he would not be able to keep Harry with him. 

“Severus,” he heard from miles away, “Severus? Are you alright?”

He looked to find Minerva giving him a worried look.

He nodded and said, “Just thinking of what I have to do for him.”

Minerva and Aberforth shared a look of concern.

“No need to worry,” Severus said with a small grin, “I’m just...thinking of everything that needs to be done before I am certain we can live in peace.”

The elderly pair nodded in understanding and continued eating the latter amusing Harry by making spark with their wands.

“Before we go into the alley, Harry needs to be glamoured,” Severus said seriously, “We don’t need the attention nor does Harry, especially for something he has no fault in doing.”

Minerva and Aberforth stared at Severus eyes wide.

“Lily’s love,” he said plainly, his voice filled with pain feeling the loss of his best friend, “A mother’s magic is never one to trifle with...a mother’s love.”

Minerva nodded understanding where he is coming from. 

The trio breathed a collective sigh, at least now the know that it wasn’t Harry who did the Dark Lord under. 

Breakfast was over not too long after that and the plates floated to the sink. Now they could finalize the last details of the first part of their plan. 

“There is a possibility that I will be arrested as soon as the air clears from the Potter’s deaths,” Severus said neutrally, “As such we need to move quickly, the only negative to this is that if our urgency is seen questions will be asked.”

“We need to get to Gringotts Severus,” Aberforth said thoughtfully, “For now what we can do is disguise the babe to the public whilst we make our way there.”

Minerva nodded at this and wave her hand over Harry changing his features slightly to look like Severus.

Severus gasped at this, and saw what a mix between him and Lily would have been. But now...his love for her could fade and translate onto her son. 

Harry smiled and giggled at the tickle of magic over him. 

“I’ll need some disguising myself for the time being,” Severus said and did as Minerva had done to Harry, “Now we need to leave before Albus does anything.”

//Time Skip – Gringotts//

The trio walked in baby in hand and asked to speak with the goblin in charge of the Potter estate.

“Griphook is in charge of that account,” the goblin said, “He will be with you shortly.”

As promised, Griphook arrived and said, “How may I be of assistance.”

“We are here to read the Will of the late Master James and Lily Potter,” Severus said bowing his head in respect, “There is cause to believe there will be tampering.”

Griphook nodded and motioned for them to follow him into his office.

“Before we proceed,” the goblin began, “I need verification of whom I’m speaking to and whom this will involve.”

Aberforth and Minerva presented their respective keys as Severus made quick work of the glamours that were on Harry and himself. He then procured his own key.

“And the infant?” Griphook said looking pointedly at Harry who was sucking his thumb, “You all know I cannot do anything without a verification of next of kin.”

Severus understood and procured a needle from his robes.

“Blood if there is no key if I recall correctly,” he said with a raised brow.

The goblin nodded.

Minerva took Harry from Severus and tried to keep the lad distracted as Severus drew the blood.

As expected Harry began to cry but settled when Abe took him. 

The blood proved that Harry is, well, Harry and so their dealings could proceed. Griphook summoned a file and began to read.

“The will was sealed by one Albus Dumbledore,” Griphook said as he looked through the file, “Reasons are unknown for now.”

“Can it be unsealed?” Minerva asked eyes wide as Albus’ involvement came to light.

Griphook nodded and did as was expected and began to read.

“There are letters here for one Sirius Black, Remus John Lupin and Severus Snape,” he said taking the sealed envelopes out, “The will reads as so, I James Fleamont Potter of sound mind leave everything to my son Harold James Potter...”

There were vaults to set aside for Sirius and Remus, but Minerva would look into that later.

“...Should anything happen to either Lily or myself custody will go to our son’s godfather Sirius Black. Should something, Merlin forbid, happen to him custody will fall to Severus Snape. My reasons for this are stated in his letter, and my wife and I are both in agreement that under no circumstances is Harry to go to Petunia and Vernon Dursley. So mote it be,” finished Griphook.

The trio shared a look at this in alarm, all thinking the same thing, Albus may have read the will and gone against it for his own machinations. 

“Sirius Black has been taken to Azkaban and Remus Lupin is still in hiding from the war,” Minerva said keeping herself as neutral as possible, “Is there a way for us to deliver the letters to them?”

Griphook nodded and passed Minerva the two letters before handing Severus his own. 

“Before you go,” the goblin said as he cleared the desk, “The boy carries unnaturally dark magic in him.”

They all looked at the babe in question.

“Earthen magicks are part of a goblin’s magic, we feel magic and how it flows through all living things,” he said stoically, “The child’s magic is yet to manifest, he does have a core but there is something deeper there...something darker.”

“I will pay whatever it takes,” Severus said voice pained, “Will your healers tend to him?”

Griphook lifted a brow at him but nodded and waved his hand.

In almost no time at all they were taken deeper into the bank where two goblins were waiting. 

“Set the child on the table please,” the taller of the two said.

Severus despite his paranoia, did as was asked and remained by his young charge’s side.

“Healer Redtooth will tend to him as all small ones should,” Griphook said and nodded for Severus to follow him to seated corner of the darkened room. 

The group talked in low voices, Severus ever the cautious one kept an ear out for his boy. 

“Madam are you aware of the spell on your person?” Griphook asked in curiosity. 

Minerva looked stricken at the though and shook her head.

Severus cast a diagnostic on her and found a scar on her fingers...it looked like a knife wound. 

“Minerva, how did you come about this?” Severus asked quietly. 

She got lost in thought as she thought about how she might have gotten that scar. 

“Might I try something?” Griphook asked.

Minerva nodded and felt as if a fog had been lifted the moment he began chanting in goblin. 

Minerva seemed to collapse into herself and break into tears and sobs as her memories became clear.

“Whats wrong with her?!” Aberforth yelled pulling her into his side as she shook. 

“Her memories had been tampered with...” Griphook said as he breathed. 

“Severus I think yours have been tampered with as well,” Minerva said through her tears, “When you were still a wee lad just barely into Hogwarts I’d received a message from Eileen. We’d known each other in school and had been good friends. She’d been making arrangements for her boy in case Tobias became unbearable.”

Severus’ eyes widened at what she was saying.

“My boy...my lad...” she broke down more in her grief.

“The name on file for you madame is that you’ve listed a son as your heir and kin,” Griphook said appearing out of nowhere, “It is said to be one Severus Tobias Snape.”

Aberforth’s eyes darkened as Severus’ mind seemed to stall.

“I had been taking you in during the summer to keep you from your father as per Eileen’s request,” Minerva said tearfully, “I love you as my own I always have.”

“But Albus can’t leave well enough alone,” Aberforth said voice deep and gravely as he fought to keep his temper.

Severus looked to Griphook, “I’ll pay whatever fee is called, but please...show me.”

Griphook nodded and did as asked.

Once his memories were restored Severus fell onto his mother’s lap his own body shaking with the strength of his sobs his hands holding onto Minerva’s as they grieved for what they lost.

Mother and son cried as lost memories were returned and what could have been was lost. But one thing was certain neither of them were going to play into the same trap twice. And Minerva was in the mind of killing whoever decided it was a good idea to take her boy from her again.

//00//00//

A/N: Like and reblog if you enjoyed reading!! Let me know if you want to be tagged.

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[lauravias]

The Zodiac Killer

The self-proclaimed Zodiac Killer is an unidentified American serial killer. He took credit of several murders in the San Francisco Bay Area between 1968 and 1969, but only five are directly linked to him. He taunted police and made threats through letters sent to newspapers in the area from 1969 to 1974. The police never caught him. The mystery surrounding the murders has inspired numerous books and movies, like Dirty Harry, in 1971, Zodiac, in 2007, and Awakening of the Zodiac, in 2017.

Zodiac Killer’s murders timeline

DEC. 20, 1968  The first confirmed murders attributed to the Zodiac Killer took place on the night of December 20, 1968, on Lake Herman Road, just inside Benicia city limits. The victims were high school students David Faraday and his girlfriend Betty Lou Jensen, who were shot to death in their car; shortly after 11:00 p.m., their bodies were found by Stella Borges, who lived nearby. 

Newspaper page about the murders of David Faraday and Betty Lou Jensen

JULY 4, 1969   Just before midnight on July 4, 1969, Darlene Ferrin and Mike Mageau, her boyfriend, were sitting in a parked car in Blue Rock Springs Park, Vallejo. A car parked beside them, almost immediately drove away, and then came back after 10 minutes; the driver exited the vehicle and approached the couple with a flashlight. He shot them seven times each. Within an hour, a man called the Vallejo Police Department to report and claim responsibility for the attack; he also took credit for the murders of David Faraday and Betty Lou Jensen of six and a half months earlier.

Photos of  David Faraday and Betty Lou Jensen

SEPT. 27, 1969    On the evening of September 27, 1969, the Zodiac Killer approached Cecelia Shepard and her boyfriend Bryan Hartnell as they were picnicking on a shore of Lake Berryessa, in Napa County. The man was wearing a black hood with clip-on sunglasses over the eye-holes, and a bib-like device on his chest that had a circle-cross symbol on it. He approached them with a gun, claiming to be an escaped convict from a prison, and told Shepard to tie up Hartnell, before tying her up. The man drew a knife and stabbed them both repeatedly, badly injuring the couple, then went back to their car and drew the cross-circle symbol with the inscription "Vallejo/12-20-68/7-4-69/Sept 27–69–6:30/by knife". At 7.40 p.m. on the same day, he called the Napa Police Department, to report and claim responsibility for the attack. When the police arrived, Shepard was still alive and described the attacker; she died two days later at the hospital, while Hartnell survived.

Photos of Cecelia Shepard and  Bryan Hartnell

OCT. 11, 1969    Two weeks later, on October 11, 1969, taxi driver Paul Stine was found dead inside his taxi. He was shot in the head by a white male passenger, who had requested to be taken to Maple Street; for strange reasons Stine did not stop there but one block after, in Cherry Street. Three teenagers that lived across the street witnessed the passenger shooting Stine, and called the police while the crime was still occurring; they also stated that before running away, the man wiped the cab down. In the meantime, two policemen, Don Fouke and Eric Zelms, noticed a white man walking and entering inside one of the houses in the street; the suspect they were looking out for was supposedly black, and since the man they witnessed was white they did not stop him. As the murder did not seem to fit the Zodiac’s pattern it was initially thought to be a robbery, until the San Francisco Chronicle received a letter from the Zodiac Killer claiming the crime.

Crime scene of Paul Stine’s murder

MARCH 22, 1970    On the night of March 22, 1970, Kathleen Johns was driving with her newborn daughter on Highway 132 near Modesto, when a driver flashed his headlights at them. Johns pulled off the road and stopped, and so did the man; he told her that her right rear wheel was wobbling, and offered to tighten the lug nuts. After doing such, the man drove off, and when Johns pulled forward to re-enter the highway, the wheel almost immediately came off the car. The man came back and offered to drive her and her daughter to the nearest gas station. He drove them around for a long time, passing several gas stations, and when he stopped at an intersection Johns jumped out the car with her daughter and hid in a field. She later identified her kidnapper as the man depicted in a wanted poster for Paul Stine's murder, the Zodiac. Police never officially attributed the incident to the Zodiac.

Newspaper talking about Kathleen Johns kidnapping attempt

During the 1990s, many investigators claimed to have identified the Zodiac Killer; the most likely and most often cited suspect was Arthur Leigh Allen, a Vallejo schoolteacher who had been institutionalized for child molestation.            The police were able to create a sketch of the Zodiac, using the descriptions of several witnesses; for example, the three teenagers who saw the man leaving the scene of Paul Stine’s murder, and Kathleen Johns, who identified the man that tried to kidnap her from the sketch of the Zodiac. Despite the mounting evidence and the numerous suspects, the killer remained at large.

Sketch of the Zodiac Killer made by the San Francisco police department

Letters and cyphers

The Zodiac sent several letters containing cyphers to various newspapers located in San Francisco, the San Francisco Examiner, the San Francisco Chronicle and the Vallejo Times-Herald. The newspapers received the first letter on August 1, 1969, where the killer took credit for the Benicia and Vallejo murders. To convince the police that he was the author of the murders, he included details that only the killer could have known. Each letter was closed by a circle with a cross through it, that would later become the Zodiac Killer’s symbol. High school teacher Donald Harden and his wife, Bettye, were able to solve the first cypher. 

A couple of days after the murder of Paul Stine, on October 15, 1969, the San Francisco Chronicle received another letter from the Zodiac, where he took credit for the murder; this is also the first letter in which the killer uses the name “Zodiac”. At the end of the letter, the killer mused that he would next shoot out the tire of a school bus and "pick off the kiddies as they come bouncing out". The Zodiac Killer continued sending letters to the San Francisco Chronicle, where he claimed to have committed several more murders and mocked the police for their inability to catch him. The letters stopped in 1974.

In 2020, after 51 years, one of the messages written in code and attributed to the Zodiac Killer has been solved. The cypher does not reveal the killer's identity, however, it confirms his image as an attention-seeking killer who revelled in terrorizing the Bay Area in the late 1960s. 

The three men who decrypted the code are David Oranchak, a software developer in Virginia, Sam Blake, an applied mathematician in Melbourne, Australia, and Jarl Van Eycke, a warehouse operator and computer programmer in Belgium. The F.B.I., which employs a team of code-crackers in its Cryptanalysis and Racketeering Records Unit, said they had verified Mr Oranchak’s claim of having broken the code. 

It read: “I hope you are having lots of fun in trying to catch me that wasn’t me on the TV show which brings up a point about me I am not afraid of the gas chamber because it will send me to paradice all the sooner because I now have enough slaves to work for me where everyone else has nothing when they reach paradice so they are afraid of death I am not afraid because I know that my new life is life will be an easy one in paradice death.”

Though he had claimed to be responsible for 37 deaths, no Zodiac victims have been discovered since 1969, and in both the known and presumed Zodiac murders no suspect was ever arrested. Since the Faraday-Jensen murders, the inability to identify the Zodiac Killer has continued to frustrate law enforcement.

Sources:

Zodiac Killer - Biography

The coded message has been solved - New York Times

Zodiac Killer -  Wikipedia

Zodiac Killer Timeline - San Francisco Chronicle

[underthewingsofthblackeagle]

Foto: Panorama Helsinki / Finland - Dom und Parlamentsplatz (by tap5a)

“We only do this for Fergus!” is a short Outlander Fan Fiction story and my contribution to the Outlander Prompt Exchange (Prompt 3: Fake Relationship AU: Jamie Fraser wants to formally adopt his foster son Fergus, but his application will probably not be approved... unless he is married and/or in a committed relationship. Enter one Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp (Randall?) to this story) @outlanderpromptexchange​

Chapter 1: Life offers you many surprises

Berlin, Französische Straße Friday, 25 July 2025, 8.50 a.m.

         Five minutes earlier, Claire Elisabeth Beauchamp had entered the large, light gray house, built in the neo-Renaissance style that dominated the whole Forum Fridericianum. In the lobby, which was dominated by marble and dark wood, Claire was greeted by a receptionist. She was asked to sit down for a moment in one of the dark leather armchairs, of which four were grouped around an elegant round table. As she waited, her eyes wandered up the high walls of the entrance hall. A few steps of a staircase led out of the hall through a large glass door that ended in a round arch at the top, reminiscent of a gate entrance. Above it was a large ornament of dark stones inlaid in the light marble. The ornament showed a circle, which, as it seemed, was formed from a belt. The words "Je suis prest" could be read in the curve of the circle and in the center of the ornament was the head of a stately stag, which looked directly at the observer.

“Französische Straße Berlin” by Jörg Zägel / CC BY-SA (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)

         Claire knew that the French motto meant "I am ready!", but just as she was wondering what the sign meant, an older lady approached her. She introduced herself as Mrs. Fitz-Gibbons. This employee, whose blue costume gave the impression of a uniform, led Claire down various small staircases and long corridors to the room where she was now sitting. Wherever they had gone in this house, it had been extremely quiet. The heavy, dark red carpets that covered all the stairs and hallways, had swallowed every sound of their footsteps. Now she sat in a room whose furnishings were characterized by dark wood and light brass and whose dimensions were more like those of a hall. But it was the antechamber of the CEO’s office of "Fraser & Son International" and behind the large double-winged door that Claire was now looking at was the study of Dr. James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser, one of the country's leading business owners.         Until two weeks ago, Claire did not know the man's name or that of his company. She didn't care about the gossip press, which also reported on the local "high society" in Berlin. But then Geillis Duncan, her best friend, came by one evening and showed her a job ad from the "Wirtschaftswoche" newspaper. At first Claire was completely surprised. How did Geillis, who loved to read the gossip press, come to show her an ad from Germany's leading weekly magazine for managers?

         "Dave left it on the kitchen table, and since I didn't have anything else at hand, I looked into it while having breakfast. But now take a look at this job ad!"

Geillis had emphatically pointed to an ad that featured the same ornament as the one she had seen in the lobby.          Claire had started reading. A pedagogically trained caregiver was needed for an almost seven-year-old child. The woman should speak fluent German, English and French. Further foreign language skills were welcome but not required. Furthermore, an extensive general education and an impeccable curriculum vitae (i.e. no entries in the Federal Central Crime Register) were expected. Special emphasis was placed on the knowledge and practice of the literature written by Adolph Freiherr Knigge. Three times the current monthly salary was offered, 30 days paid vacation, free board and lodging, private health insurance 1st class.

         "Just imagine Claire!" the girlfriend had exclaimed enthusiastically, "If you got this job and worked there for a few years, all your problems would be solved!”

         Geillis was right, well, almost. Surely not all her problems would be solved. But the financial problems she had to deal with could at least be significantly reduced by this job. She had to acknowledge that and so Claire, Geillis and her friend Dave met that very evening to write a letter of application. Dave, who worked for a large media company at Potsdamer Platz, immediately agreed to help her with his knowledge. The next day, Claire had sent off the application. Then she had bought an updated edition of "The Knigge" and started reading it. Shortly after, Geillis came and brought her a large pile of current newspaper clippings so Claire could learn all she needed to know about the person of James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser and the family business he ran.

         She learned a lot about the company from various business magazines, but the person of James Fraser seemed almost like a phantom. It seemed to her that this man also didn't care about the so-called "high society" and obviously he didn't deliver any headlines to the gossip press. There was neither an article about him nor a photo of him on the company's homepage. Even a Wikipedia article with his name only gave the basic data (birthday, place of birth, family, studies) and otherwise dealt more with the globally active company. "Fraser & Son International" was one of the few family-owned companies that to this day had no shareholders and, having invested in a wide range of economic sectors, not only survived the financial crisis of 2008 well, but had even emerged from it stronger. In this Wikipedia article, however, there was a photo by James Fraser. It showed him with a group of business leaders at a national conference. However, this picture was over eight years old and also very pixelated. At some point everything turned in Claire's head and she hoped that she had not learned all this information for nothing. If she would at least be invited for a job interview.          Ten days later, she hadn't dared to hope that she would ever hear of Fraser & Son International, and to her surprise, her smartphone rang just before the lunch break began. A Dr. Ned Gowan called on behalf of the company, explained that he was the lawyer for "Fraser & Son International" and asked if she could come for an interview at the company's headquarters two days later at 9:00 am. She told him that she had to ask her department head to give her time off first and would call back. As the summer vacation period was over, it was no problem to get a day off and so she called Dr Gowan fifteen minutes later and agreed to meet him (and Dr. Fraser!) two days later. Claire had to be extremely restrained not to cheer out loud. This would have immediately drawn the attention of her colleagues in the department, and she definitely did not want to tell them about it. During lunch break, she left the clinic and sat down on a bench in a nearby park. From there she called Geillis and told her the good news. Right after the end of her shift, the friends met in the parking lot of the clinic to go into town together and pick out a suitable "outfit" for Claire's job interview. Geillis, who had worked as a freelance fashion consultant for many years before she met "the rich Dave", dragged her friend directly to the fashion department of the KaDeWe. There, after a while, they found a muted dark green business costume that emphasized Claire's figure but still looked respectable.

“Kaufhaus des Westens (KaDeWe) - Foto by Avi1111 dr. avishai teicher / CC BY-SA (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0)

         "That's perfect," exclaimed Geillis as Claire stepped out of the dressing room.          "Yes, perfectly too expensive for me. Have you seen the price?"          "Don't worry about that," Geillis replied. Then she whispered:          "I'll pay for it. If the job doesn't work out, we'll just give it back afterwards. And if you get the job and want to keep it, you'll give me the money back when you get your first salary.”

         They bought the costume and also a matching blouse and shoes. Claire was not allowed to think about the amount of money they had spent within a few hours or she would get sick.          But that was all forgotten at that moment. Now it was time to concentrate and make a good impression.          Mrs. Fitz-Gibbons had led her into this room and instructed her to use one of the twelve large brown leather armchairs. With the words          "You will be called in when it is your turn,"          she had said goodbye.          Claire had taken a seat and scanned the room as inconspicuously as possible. Seven other women sat in leather armchairs of the same type, which were set up on three side walls of the room, each separated by a small table. On the tables were glasses and bottles of mineral water, but none of the other women had made use of them. Claire had not intended to drink anything either. She was far too excited to drink, and she was afraid that she might have to go to the bathroom in the middle of her upcoming job interview. Slowly, her gaze wandered across the light-colored carpet to that large, two-winged mahogany wooden door. On each of the wings was a coat of arms, divided into four sections. On the upper left and the lower right quarter were three white flowers on a blue background. The upper right and the lower left quarter each showed three red, pointed crowns on a white background. Behind this door, Claire assumed, must be the director's room. What would she expect there? She did not know. Why had she only gotten involved in this thing that Geilis Duncan had suggested to her? Out of desperation? She wasn't sure. Only one thing was sure: she had never thought that she would have to have another job interview at the age of almost 30. But that was her life. Much of what had happened in her life had not been planned, nor had she ever expected her life to be like that.          Claire Elisabeth Beauchamp, almost divorced Randall, had lost her parents in a car accident when she was five years old. For the next fifteen years she was raised in the loving care of her uncle 'Lamb'. Dr. Quentin Lambert Beauchamp, an archaeologist and Egyptologist whose research focus was on the Old Kingdom of Egypt and who was highly revered by his students, came to Berlin in 2015, where he taught at Humboldt University in the last years before his retirement. There Claire had also met her future husband, Dr. Frank Randall. He had been assigned to her uncle as a research assistant. Randall had courted her like no man before and they had already married in May 2016. The first four years of their marriage had gone in a way that Claire would still describe as happy today. Although, she was no longer quite so sure. What did happiness actually mean? Was there a definition for this term? And even if there was a definition for the term "happiness", was it really valid for all people? In any case, the first four years of her marriage had not been very negative. Together they had made regular trips to Paris, Madrid, Prague, Budapest, Dubrovnik, Palermo, Venice, Turin, Marseille, Amsterdam, Florence, Milan, Barcelona and Bruges.

“Palermo/Sizilien” by  nataliaaggiato 

         Claire enjoyed getting to know these cities and experiencing their cultural particularities. When Lambert Beauchamp died unexpectedly in February 2019 as a result of a stroke, Frank had been kind and, in her opinion, very sensitive to her needs. But in the spring of 2020, a strange development had set in with him. At first Claire had blamed it on the effects of the corona pandemic. After the start of the lockdown, Frank was mainly at home, giving lectures via Zoom and otherwise writing a new book on the history of the Scottish Jacobite uprising in 1745. Claire, on the other hand, was working as a nurse in the children's clinic of Berlin's Charité hospital, as she had been before the crisis. Frank had insisted that Claire should give up her job. The possibility that she could become infected with the virus seemed too high to him. But Claire could not bring it over her heart to leave her fellow nurses alone, especially in such a severe time, and thanks to the strictly observed precautions she got through this difficult time without any problems. While she could be happy about the successes in her profession, the problems in her marriage with Frank seemed to become bigger and bigger. At some point, she felt that Frank was becoming more and more monosyllabic and that they were drifting apart rapidly. But evem then she thought this was a temporary phase that would end after the pandemic at the latest. At least she hoped so. When a vaccine against the virus was finally found in July 2021 and became available in December 2021, Claire breathed a sigh of relief. She and Frank would get vaccinated and then they could travel again. This would change Frank's mind and make her marriage blossom again. But it all turned out differently. Once they were vaccinated, Frank suddenly didn't feel like traveling anymore. Again and again he put off his work. Regularly he worked until late at night at the university and sometimes he spent whole nights there. It was always about important analyses, which he published in specialist publications and for which there were tight deadlines. Even on evenings when Claire was off, he was rarely at home, and whenever she tried to initiate a little marital tenderness, he was too tired for that. In the spring of 2022, they had slept together for the last time. A few months later, Frank had stopped kissing her goodbye, as he usually did when he left the house.          What happened then had the potential to throw her completely off track. By the fall of 2022, a hunch that Claire had suppressed again and again had been confirmed. Frank had a mistress. When she returned from her work at the children's hospital one evening in October, she saw Frank saying goodbye to a slender blonde at the door of their shared house, kissing her intensely. She stood there frozen. Everything inside her urged her to turn around and run away. But then the anger that built up within her gained the upper hand. Like a burning ray that shot out of her stomach through her whole body, he took a breath. She ran to the front door, unlocked it and found Frank standing at the sink in the kitchen, where he was just rinsing out two wine glasses. He turned to her in surprise, but before he could say a word, Claire's purse hit him in the left half of his face with full force. Frank had lost his balance and had fallen over. His glasses had come off his head and had broken when he hit the kitchen floor. Claire no longer knew what insults she had used to call him. Frank had picked himself up and collected the parts of his glasses. He had not even set out to explain the situation or apologize.Claire would not have listened to him either. She had turned on her foot and had run into the shared bedroom. When she arrived there, she had taken Frank's bed linen, run back downstairs with it and threw it all into his study. Then she ran back into the bedroom again and locked herself inside. She did not know how long she had cried angrily. But before she had fallen asleep, she had made a plan. The next morning she went on the morning shift. During a break she called a lawyer and that same afternoon she went to see her to discuss the formalities of a divorce.

“Brille” by  jottbe

         Frank had had the injuries Claire had inflicted on him treated, but had not reported them to the police. It was only later that he let it show that he had orchestrated the whole situation. He had simply been too cowardly to have a conversation with her about a divorce, as two adults normally do. He probably wanted to make her feel guilty, too. Claire was convinced of that, at least. Frank had always been against her going back to work. When she accepted the job at the children's hospital a year after their wedding, he had expressed himself very negatively about it. What kind of impression would it leave on his colleagues if the wife of a prospective professor went to work? And in the last year of their marriage he had not missed any opportunity to tell her how much he felt neglected.            It took three months before Claire was able to move into a small room in one of the Charité nurses' homes. During these three months she did everything she could to avoid Frank as much as possible. Anything she couldn't take with her to the nurses' home, she stored in her friend Geillis Duncan's basement. Claire hoped that the divorce would be finalized in October 2023 after the obligatory year of separation and that she could finally start a new life. But this time, too, everything turned out differently than she had hoped.          It was a rainy autumn day in September 2023 and it was to be the last day in the life of Dr. Frank Randall. On a country road near Lübeck, where he had attended a conference for historians, Frank's car skidded for some unknown reason. The car broke through the barrier and then came to a halt in a field. There it was discovered the next morning by a farmer. When the police arrived at the scene of the accident, Dr. Frank Randall was strapped in the seat belt and sat in the driver's seat as if nothing had happened. He was uninjured and even still wearing his hat. But Frank Randall was dead. An autopsy performed later revealed that Frank had had a heart attack that caused him to lose control of the car, causing it to veer off the road. It was, as the police later said, very lucky that no other car had been hit. Claire was shaken.

“Lübeck”  by scholty1970 

         But an even greater shock struck her on the day of the reading of the will. On that day, the notary told her that she would not inherit any money, only debts from Frank. Her still-husband had bought a condominium for his mistress for 250,000 euros, which he had signed over to her. For this gift Frank had gone into debt and Claire, who was still married to him by law, inherited his debts. It was one big nightmare. Although Claire had also inherited the rights to Frank's books, these reference books sold only in very manageable numbers and brought in little money. With her salary as a pediatric nurse, it would take her decades to pay off Frank's debts. Meanwhile, Sandy Travers, this  bleached ...., was sitting in her apartment, probably enjoying herself with her next lover. Once again the anger about Frank rose in Claire's heart, but before she could think about him any further, a familiar voice tore her from these thoughts. 

[jeongyunhoed]

Past-Present-Future

What do you do

When everything you’ve done

Comes back to haunt you?

Group: ATEEZ

Superpowers AU!

Mutants, assassins, confronting the past! a little dive into the concept of  romantic soulmates! 

with OCs

Genres: Fantasy, Supernatural, Adventure, Angst, Implied smut, Fluff, Gen

Flashback-heavy

Featuring mentions of: Park Jihoon (solo), Chanyeol, Dean, Zelo

Warnings: Blood, gore, death, violence, character deaths

She has lived with guilt. Slowly remembering details of her checkered past when  interned at a sanitarium years ago. The sudden reemerging of a person she remembered dying and the resurgence of a powerful crime syndicate will have her trying to walk the line between the person she has become and the person she was once destined to be.

A/N: I wasn’t sure if I wanted to post this at all, but I guess it’s worth a try to increase my works on this platform again. The masterlist for this will be up shortly once I figure out/try and make a good graphic. Keyword: TRY (as I suck at photo editing)

Chapter 1. 

“As of today, the seven of you will become a unit, a covert unit. To put it simply, if I want someone killed, you will do it for me, if I want people killed, you will do it for me, if I want information, you will retrieve it for me, all in all, if I want something, you will get it for me, I am good they are bad,” A woman, whose face was obscured in the dark, told the seven people - six men and one woman, all of whom had vacant expressions and were staring into space. 

They were lined up in a padded room, a secret room in the sanitarium that doubled as a training room from the shelves upon shelves of sharp weapons on display at the very end of the room. She knew they could hear her, they just couldn’t speak. 

“Kim Hongjoong, Park Seonghwa, Jeong Yunho, Song Mingi, Jung Wooyoung, Choi Jongho, and,” A man said this time, his face also obscured in the dark, reciting each of their names before rounding on the sole woman in the lineup of people wearing sanitarium uniforms. “Lee Mirae,” the man was smirking in the dark. “The future of our program, you will lead this unit, your progress from all the training these past few years has been exceptional, near-perfect, I would like to think.” 

Mirae said nothing. “Quite an impressive one you are, Lee Mirae,” The woman spoke again. “It’s almost as if you were born for this kind of job. Changseok, what do you think? She is the most successful one we’ve trained under the program, right?” 

“Quite right, honey. Lee Mirae, you are the most successful experiment in this program of ours. It’s not hard to see why, you were born with the mutant gene,” The man seemed to stare at her. “Your own parents didn’t realize your true potential when they interned you in here, but consider this as a way to lead you to what you are destined to be. The most-feared mercenary the world has ever known. The mere sight of you will bring even the most powerful people to their knees, begging you to spare their lives.” 

Mirae still said nothing. Like the others, she could hear them, she just couldn’t speak. “You will be pulled out whenever we have a mission for you. This will entail traveling to faraway parts of the world. While you’re all built to be killing machines, I don’t think any of you are invulnerable to harm. But don’t worry, after every mission, upon returning, you will all be subject to electroshock therapy. Just enough to make you forget what you’ve done, where you went, and whom you might have killed,” The woman spoke again. 

They could hear her. They just couldn’t speak. “You are all ready for your first mission. It’s in Busan. You will be briefed on the way. It’s time to open Pandora’s Box.” 

The seven of them twitched in their places. As the man known as Changseok began to repeat the last two words, the seven of them continued twitching, tilting their heads as if hearing something that hurt their ears. It sounded like nails on a chalkboard, forks scratching ceramic plates. When Changseok stopped, all of them stood still, a blank look in their eyes as if in a trance. “Remember, regardless of the weapon you pick, you are the true weapon.”

~ 

Seoul. 9:00 p.m. Present day.

Five years have passed since the Seoul attack that changed everything. Almost everyone that was part of trying to stop it was gone, either dead or missing. Lee Mirae stared at the rain tapping on the windows of her apartment. It was now four years since the Utopian cult, the encounter that gave her a rude awakening, the encounter that made everything seem like a lie, the encounter where she lost her adoptive brother Jihoon. There was a memorial in place for the lives lost during those times, placed on the site where the Center for Paranormal Research once stood. 

This was no longer the place she once knew. Even the brightest colors from the lights by the river seemed to have a grey, almost black tinge to it all. For some reason, the place she called home was no longer as bright as she knew it to be. It was a lot darker, and it wasn’t only because of the constant dark clouds hanging over the city, but it was also because the crime rate was still at its highest. Gangs were rampant all over. Law enforcement couldn’t be trusted. It wasn’t hard for Mirae to realize how much things weren’t so bright and cheerful since the Seoul attack. It was never bright and cheerful. She just wasn’t paying much attention. 

Mirae was a mutant, and had the ability to manipulate energy. She turned the smallest things into extremely explosive projectiles, and she often did it with a deck of cards. Being an omega-level mutant, the fullest extent of her powers allowed her to turn into an energy being, aside from a healing factor that made her almost immortal, and it also slowed down her aging process. She was a fighter, gifted with many forms of combat, and she was often told by her adoptive brother that no one could beat her in any way, but she knew that wasn’t true nor was it going to be true. She often used a steel bo staff made for her by Junhong, one of the surviving tech guys from the attack, who also took it upon himself to make changes to some of her things, including her car and the windows of both her apartment and the record store she owned and operated. 

Her powers didn’t stop there. From the two big events that shook the city came her ability to trap souls into objects, usually her cards. This also resulted in a white streak in her hair that she never bothered covering up, not even when she tried to dye her hair. 

She heard the door open and turned around. It was her half-brother, Choi San, coming back from getting take-out at the nearest restaurant. San was a mutant like her, and was also gifted with the ability to manipulate energy, only he channeled it through his harpoon. His healing abilities were just as strong as hers, granting him near-immortality. San was also skilled in combat, and when they reunited, he was working as a mercenary for hire. He still was one. Like her, he also had a streak in his hair, a purple one that seemed to cover up the white that formed upon using his powers to their fullest extent. 

Mercenary. The mere word made her shake her head. That wasn’t her. If it was, then it was the old her. She was no longer under the control of her Utopian cult. The trigger was gone, taken out of her head. She knew this well. She was the one who drove the sword into the leaders of that cult, her own adoptive parents. 

“I’ve come back bearing meat, I figured we could grill some over the stove for dinner tonight” He said, holding up a black plastic bag. San tilted his head. “You had another dream, didn’t you?” He figured. 

“Yeah,” Mirae let out an exasperated sigh. She had trouble sleeping, knowing that her dreams would present her flashes of memories from her time at the sanitarium. Only this time, the memories she would have would lead her to wake up in tears as those memories were of Jihoon. Jihoon, whom she promised to protect with her whole life when he got out, whom she practically raised, and whom she ultimately failed to save. 

“What was it this time?” San asked, already bringing out a griddle pan to pan-fry the meat instead. 

“The first mission I had, or at least that’s what it sounded like, the usual stuff,” She replied, setting the table while he cooked the meat. 

San’s expression turned into that of concern as he glanced at her. It made him wonder how he could somehow help her get out of this, out of her inability to sleep. “I could get you sleeping pills if you need it,” He said carefully. 

“Thanks, but no thanks. Whether or not I take them, I still have those dreams,” Mirae shook her head, helping him out with cooking this time. 

“Hasn’t Junhong… tried to come up with something to help you? What about your friends? Chanyeol? Hyuk? Have they thought of helping you?” San’s tone was becoming increasingly concerned. 

“How can they? Hyuk’s not that powerful a telepath, what can Chanyeol do, burn my head? Ino… well, he’s too caught up in trying to manage his own powers to even try and help out other people,” Mirae answered. “Even if they tried, when the trigger was taken out of me, the psychic block in my head grew stronger, they can’t read my mind even if I wanted them to.” 

San frowned. He hated that he couldn’t do anything to help her either. “I hear you crying in the middle of the night sometimes,” he said, partly wondering if it was the right time to point it out. “At first I thought you were crying because you missed Jihoon, but over time I realized it was something else,” He quickly turned the meat over in time before one side burned. 

“I will always miss him. But every time I go to sleep I’m always haunted by what happened to me before,” Mirae muttered. “I’ll be fine, San. Really, I’ll be fine, I can cope with it,” She assured him. “Maybe some sparring will help clear my head. Want to spar with me later?” 

“Will you let me win this time?” San teased, in an effort to lighten the mood. 

“I can’t promise you that,” Mirae teased back. 

~ 

“I thought you said you were training yourself?” Mirae asked later on in the training room down the hall from their apartment later that night. She managed to put San down on the mat in less than a minute during their first try. 

“I was!” San argued, sounding frustrated as he got back up on his feet. “You’re just that good!” He pointed out, charging towards his sister, who easily blocked every strike he made while he did the same yet with a few maneuvers later, he was back down on the mat. 

“That’s not true, you’re probably just not training enough,” Mirae pointed out, helping him back up. 

“Hey! I really was!” San got back up. “Maybe we should just go through the obstacle course kind of training instead,” He said. Although he was frustrated at how he never seemed to be able to one-up Mirae, he couldn’t stay frustrated for long. He wanted to help her clear her head and he was determined to make it happen, even if it was at his own expense.  

“Deal. I would never fight you anyway, unless you need to because I might be hypnotized or something,” She assured him, flipping one of the switches to start the courses in front of them. Several dummies were already positioned at the end along with spiked gauntlets that were rotating. 

When Mirae flung a few cards towards the dummies in front of her, it signaled San to attack as well, his harpoon gun piercing through the dummy head and as the arrow pulled back, the head was nearly ripped off. The two of them rolled over to either side of the room, picking up the nearest weapon they could get their hands on: Mirae, her staff and San with a pair of nunchaku. 

They attacked the spiked gauntlets at the same time with their weapons, kicks, and punches. Their attacks seemed incredibly effortless and precise. San smiled to himself at how they attacked at the same time, and he could tell Mirae was smiling as well, some blood staining the backs of their shoes from kicking a little too hard and breaking the spikes off. When they reached the end of the course, they looked at the nearly broken down obstacles, satisfied with what they did. Mirae handed him a pair of shurikens and the two of them kicked each one towards the dummies that fell out from the ceiling. While San’s hit the dummies on the legs, Mirae’s hit them squarely on the chest and on the head. 

They hit high fives. “Close enough, but we did great!” San enveloped her in a hug with one arm. “One day, I’ll hit those dummies just as good as you did” He said, eyeing the shurikens on the legs of the dummies hanging from the ceiling. “I’ve always wondered why you don’t have guns in here.” 

“These weapons existed long before there were guns,” Mirae pointed out, retracting her staff. “And they’re a lot cooler to use,” She winked, making San chuckle. 

“Okay then, let’s call it a night, I’ve got a game to play and we’ll clean all of this up tomorrow, don’t clean it up, let’s do it tomorrow” San pushed her towards the doors before she could object. 

Mirae allowed herself to be led, still feeling the rush from their training session. As she set foot outside the room and into the hallway, she froze as she saw a tall man dressed in black from head to toe, wearing a mask and a fedora. She could tell he was looking right at her before he fled. The way he was dressed seemed familiar to her yet she didn’t know how, it felt a little too familiar as if she wore something like that before. He himself also gave off that familiar feeling. 

The man fled before she tried to follow, but as Mirae ran and tried to catch up by the elevator, he was already gone. San caught up to her. “What is it?” He asked. 

She shook her head. “Nothing, a stray cat got up here” She muttered. “Let’s go back inside.” 

San frowned. “We could’ve taken that cat inside, gave it food, it was probably hungry” He said as they turned back to their apartment. “We could’ve even taken it in for good, like a pet” He eyed her. 

Mirae shook her head again as they entered their home, taking their stained shoes off, revealing the bloodied socks they were both now sporting. She was still thinking about the man in black. Why was he so familiar to her? “You can shower first, I’ll go in after you” She said, heading to her bedroom. 

“Really? Okay then, I’ll let you know when I’m done” San raised a brow, sensing that something was on her mind. Not wanting to ask further, he went straight to the bathroom. 

~ 

“Remember our promise, okay?” Yunho choked, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth as Mirae tried to hold him. They were in the middle of a desert-like place, somewhere far away. “Remember it-I’ll look for you-I’ll find my way to you when either of us get out, okay?” He sputtered, looking up at her, eyes becoming glazed over. 

The strong wind hit their faces but Mirae didn’t care. Hot tears were streaming down her eyes as she held him, trying her hardest to stop the bleeding coming from his side but failing. “Mirae! Get back here! Leave him!” Hongjoong was yelling as they were on their way back into the military plane, trying to get away from the larger group of what looked like soldiers that worked for their target. 

“He’s a lost cause, you can’t save him, Mirae,” Seonghwa tried to pull her up but Mirae refused to budge. “You’re our leader, we’re not leaving without you” He added. 

“Go with them-go with them” Yunho sputtered. “I love you, Lee Mirae. I love you. Remember that” and his eyes closed, his form collapsing under her. 

More tears fell down the sides of her face as she held his lifeless body close. The pain she felt was slowly being replaced with rage, and as she saw the oncoming soldiers running towards them, about to fire their weapons, her eyes glowed red making all of them combust, exploding in front of her including the weapons they were carrying. 

Seonghwa and the others stared at the scene in shock. Tears were still flowing down the sides of her face as the glow in her eyes faded. He was gone. Yunho was gone.

~ 

Mirae’s eyes shot open in the middle of the night and she sat up. An overwhelming sadness came over her and before she realized it, tears were already flowing down her face. Her hands were shaking as she sobbed into them, She had forgotten his name, but he must have been someone important to her. Whoever he was, his death felt like a heavy blow, like her heart was being broken over and over. 

She had been dreaming about him a lot more lately. Mirae got out of bed and stepped out of her room, sneaking past the sofa bed that San was sleeping on and going to the kitchen. She still felt that overwhelming sadness as she took a drink of water, trying to wipe her eyes from the tears that managed to escape even as she felt like she had already cried her eyes out for the past few minutes. 

The more she thought about it, the more she realized how her time at the sanitarium was more than just a blur, more than Jihoon, more than the electroshock therapy sessions she often had to go under. Mirae figured she fell in love while interned, with the guy she was dreaming about, the guy whose face she was being made to remember. 

“Mirae,” San was already sitting up, looking at her with one eye open. “Are you okay?” He asked. 

“Go back to sleep, I’m fine,” Mirae assured him quietly. 

“It’s getting harder for me to see you like this, I can’t just go back to sleep,” San got up and made his way towards his sister. “What was it this time?” 

Mirae didn’t know how she could tell him. “Someone who isn’t Jihoon, dying in front of me, I killed a lot of people in return. I can’t remember his name, but I’m remembering his face more and more.” 

“Must be important to you, whoever they are” San said. 

“He must be. Otherwise I wouldn’t have killed all of those people in front of us.” 

San rubbed her back and wrapped an arm around her. “Like what you told me, sis. You’ll be okay. This is what’s helping you heal.” 

“I hope so, San,” She looked up at him, feeling the overwhelming sadness and heartbreak again. “I hope so.” 

San stayed up with her to keep her company for a little while more until she urged him to go back to sleep. Neither of them were aware that the man, dressed in black from head to toe with a mask and a fedora hat, was looking up at them from outside the building. 

[elisabethloxx]

Wilma Mccan, a 26-year-old mother-of-four from Chapeltown, became the Yorkshire Ripper's first victim in October 1975.

Wilma was attacked by Peter Sutcliffe in the early morning hours of October 30 1975. The night of October 29th saw Wilma McCann in a familiar pattern. At around 7:30 pm, she said goodnight to her four children, leaving the oldest, at aged 9, in charge, and headed out of her council house on Scott Hall Avenue, in the Chapeltown area of Leeds, walked past the nearby Prince Phillip Playing Fields, and headed for the pubs and clubs.

Drinking whiskies and beer, she was seen in the Regent, the Scotman, the White Swan, and the Royal Oak. With a weekday closing time of 10:30 pm, she ended up at the Room At The Top, a drinking club. She left the nightclub shortly before 1:00 am October 30th, carrying a container of curry and chips. (blood samples taken from her body by Professor David Gee revealed that she had consumed 12-14 measures of spirits in the few hours prior to death).

Even though it was a short walk back home, Wilma McCann staggered around recklessly and in front of traffic in hopes of getting a lift home. She had flagged down a lorry heading towards the M62, but when greeted by an incoherent mixture of instructions and abuse, the driver declined to pick her up, and drove on.

Peter Sutcliffe was driving through Leeds in his lime-green Ford Capri GT after having a few pints, when he saw Wilma McCann thumbing for a lift. He pulled over and she jumped in. Just before setting off, she asked him if he "wanted business?" When he asked what she meant, she said, "Bloody hell, do I have to spell it out?"

Sutcliffe suggested that they do it on the grass, and she stormed off up the hill. He put his coat on the grass, while he concealed his hammer in his right hand. She then sat down on the coat, unfastened her trousers, and sneered, "Come on, get it over with." Sutcliffe replied, "Don't worry, I will." and promptly struck her several times with his hammer.

Wilma McCann's body was found at 7:41 am the following morning by milkman Alan Routledge, and his ten-year-old younger brother Paul. At first Alan thought it was an abandoned Guy, or a bundled of rags, until his brother exclaimed, "It's a body!"

Wilma McCann was found lying on her back, her trousers down by her knees, and her brassiere lifted to expose her breasts. Her strawberry blonde hair was matted with blood, and she had been stabbed in the lower abdomen, chest, and neck. Wilma McCann was the first known murder victim of the man who would soon be known as the Yorkshire Ripper.

[dailyaudiobible]

09/23/2021 DAB Transcript

Isaiah 41:17-43:13, Ephesians 2:1-22, Psalms 67:1-7, Proverbs 23:29-35

Today is the 23rd day in the month of September welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I’m Brian it is a joy and an honor to spend a few minutes of this day with you around this Global Campfire that we make each day, it's oasis to let God's word wash into our lives. And, so, let's take that next step forward together. We are working our way through the book of Isaiah in the Old Testament and we’re just getting going in the letter to the Ephesians in the New. We’re reading from the Evangelical Heritage Version this week. Isaiah chapter 41 verse 17 through 43 verse 13 today.

Commentary:

Alright. I want to just requote Paul in his letter to the Ephesians just a couple of verses today for us to look at. “Indeed, it is by grace you have been saved.” Like we could just sit there, and we should. We should take each part of this and just contemplate it at different points of the day. “It is by grace you have been saved through faith and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God.” Again, “this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God not by works, so that no one can boast. For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared in advance so that we would walk in them.” This is a reasonably well-known passage. You've probably heard it before, but have you ever just sat with it? “It is by grace you have been saved through faith and this is not from yourselves. It is the gift of God.” That is really really good news. That is the good news. You…you can't get good enough. You can't work yourself into this. That's not what's going on here. God is trying to offer a gift freely. Your part is to believe that the gift has been given and then life is transformed. And then what we do falls in line with who we are and who we are, according to Paul, is God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works. So, we can see that we have good work to do, and that good work is part of us being in Christ, But the fact that we can be in Christ, there is nothing we can do to make that happen other than believe because it is a gift, it does not come from ourselves. We cannot earn it in our own power, which also means this cannot be stolen from us. We could reject a gift. We could walk away and abandon the gift. We can treat a gift as it's…as if it's garbage but this gift is the restoration or renewal or re-creation, the making new of our inner selves. The transformation of our Spirit, the…the changing of who we truly are. Do we not spend our whole lives trying to tweak who we think we really are? And normally what we’re doing is trying to tweak our behavior, trying to tweak our personality so that it's more effective at coping with the world and getting people to do what we want them to do in some form or fashion, otherwise known as manipulation. What Paul is talking about here is so much deeper, so much deeper than all of that façade, all of that mask wearing. It is at the essence of what is core, what is deeply true of us, what is created in the image of God. This gift transforms us, changing everything about us, including what we do. There's like not a whole lot of better news than that. I mean would you rather have your…I mean this is an odd question…but the phone call that makes you rich or the awareness that you are being transformed into something that has the Spirit of the living most high God involved and within? I can't say much about the phone call that will make you rich but this second piece, this is already true. Let's spend some time contemplating it, contemplating this truth and what it might mean. That we can spend some time thinking about what this might mean, that we can live true, that this cannot be taken from us, that our identity no matter what anyone might say cannot be altered. We are children of God. Think about that today.

Prayer:

Holy Spirit, we invite You into that. It's the reality that's been spoken to us from the beginning. It's a reality that the Gospels reveal. You came and were willing to sacrifice Yourself in order to give us this gift. And yest we just kind of live as if it's just a thing, like it's just always been here, and it's just a thing. We’re just trying to figure it out and we’re just trying to be better when You have offered us the gift of utter and complete transformation if we will utterly and completely surrender to You. Come Holy Spirit, help us to think on these things today, we pray. In the name of Jesus, we ask. Amen.

Announcements:

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And, of course, if you have a prayer request or encouragement there are number of ways to reach out. If you’re using the app, you can press the Hotline button. That's the little red button up at the top. You can't miss it. You can press that and share your story from wherever you are in the world or there are a number of telephone numbers that you can use depending on where you are. In the Americas 877-942-4253 is the number to call. If you are in the UK or Europe 44-20-3608-8078 is the number to dial. And if you are in Australia or the lands down under 61-3-8820-5459 is a number to call.

And that is it for today. I'm Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hello, my DABalonians DABaruskis, my DABster's what's going down? This is Casey Sean Peirce from beautiful sunny Eloa. How are you today? I wanted everyone to join me in prayer if you could if you would be so kind for the beautiful Shemira Pierce my wife. Heavenly Father please bless Shemira and give her extra piece and extra joy and strength to…to do the things she needs to do in Jesus’ name. Amen. If anyone else wants to pray for her that’d be super cool. I'm not really that good at prayer. She recently quit doing all drugs and tobacco products and alcohol and she's got a lot of family issues that she's dealing with, that she's talking to a custody lawyer right now. We're handling a lot of kids in and out of the house and with different parents, her biological kids. Her mom lives with us. There was a reason she drank and did drugs, my wonderful wife and now that we don't that it kind of takes away what was protecting a lot of things that she needs to just overcome now. And, so, if anybody can help her with prayer to do the things that she needs to do that would be great. I love all you guys. God bless you and God bless your day.

Hey everybody my names Kara I live in North Carolina, and I just wanted to put in a prayer request for one of my friends. About 10 days ago she lost her son who's only 19 years old and it was very unexpected and suddenly. And his funeral was on Saturday. And I saw her for the first time since this has happened, and it just broke my heart to see her. And I just pray that she feels lifted up and comforted and finds peace. And I just I'm asking for all you guys to pray for her period she she's…she's having a hard time and she also has another son that's his…the other boy’s twin. So, I can imagine that would be very difficult. So, yeah if you guys could just pray for her and with her up, I would really appreciate it. I love this community and everything it stands for. And thank you Brian for having this community. It's definitely kept me going in difficult times. So, I appreciate it. Love you guys. Bye.

Heidi DAB family it's Shanda from South Dakota. I was doing my Bible study this morning and I felt prompted to call and ask for some prayer. We did our festival and it turned out great. Thank you for those prayers. However, my son was assaulted shortly after pretty badly. Had someone not stopped he feels like maybe he wouldn't have lived. And the people that are salted him are still threatening him. He feels like he needs to go buy a gun for safety. And I am praying for him. And I still have some fear. He's my baby. I'm just calling to ask for prayer for his safety. I'm just in this place of praying to the Lord and…and going back and forth. I trust the Lord and I trust His plan and I know He has plans for my son's life. I still just feel a little fear. I am praying for all of you, and I thank you so much for your prayers. Have a great day everyone.

Good morning, everybody this is God's Smile here. It's a beautiful morning and I just wanted to share a little…little __ I had with the Lord. As the lights are drawing in, I've noticed by the time I'm able to get down the stairs. And, you know, I only get about an hours’ light before I notice it starting to draw in. And I thought, wouldn't it be lovely if I could just get up in the mornings and be able to get downstairs physically. So, here I am at 9:00 o'clock in the morning. Thank you, Jesus for that. Isn't He great? He even hears the sighs of our heart. So, Brenda I would like to pray for you because you rang in about your mom in a nursing home and it's on lockdown due to COVID and it's not been easy on a dementia ward. And she's had a hard time remembering conversations and when she last saw your family. She loves the Lord. She's been a pastor’s wife for 35 years and she feels abandoned. Father God thank you that you’ve not abandoned Nancy. Thank you that Jesus lives inside her and Your precious Holy Spirit. Father I ask for Your peace to be…to abound Lord, that Your grace would impart Father and a stillness in Nancy's heart to know that everything's OK. And I know You do this with me Lord when I'm in distress and I have faith and trust in You that You will calm her and soothe her Lord and let her witness be from Brenda the next time she calls. And times ticking away and Bob’s chirping away. I'll have to go now guys. Kiss kiss. I love you. Bye-bye.

Good morning DAB family I've got a prayer request and also a praise report but before I start this story, I'm a bit sick so hopefully you can hear me OK, my voice sounds alright. But my praise report is that I…I got my university results back and I graduate with a first. And I can't even explain like. Like I got it like a week ago and every single day since, I just keep thinking about and I’m like oh my goodness, how on earth did I graduate with a first. Like so grateful, so happy and like I…I just owe everything to God because like if someone had told me I was going to graduate a first I would have been like oh, stop it. Believe it or not people said yeah you will, and I was just rolling my eyes like ok please like stop expecting so much from me. And I did. And I just…like it's honestly the weirdest feeling but like the best feeling at the same time. So, that’s some good news because I struggled a lot especially like balancing uni stuff and work. Well…I did it, but my prayer request is for my brother. He's just so lost. And like we had a conversation last night and it just honestly just made me really realize how lost he actually is, and it's just been on my mind like the whole night even when I was sleeping and when I wake up today. It's been on my mind like and like the love I have for my brother is so much like I don't love anyone else the same way that I love him, and I care for him, and I want him to add like have the best life he can possibly have. But like I just don't know what he's doing. And he's drifted so far away from God it's ridiculous. Like he's just…he's not even putting in any effort to spend time with Him. And like He's just doing…he's doing what he wants, and I don't know whether or not he cares that what he's doing is like not what he's supposed to be doing and if like…I just…I…I don't know but I just I guess I…I…I I'm just asking for you guys to pray for guidance and wisdom and for him to actually have a relationship with God…

[harrylee94]

Log Entry XXXXXX - Chapter 1

Summary: A new space station, complete with the most high spec and up to date technology there is to offer, has been set up at the edge of the known universe, a new way point for explorers to keep in contact with the rest of the human race. It has been carefully designed by the best scientists and engineers Earth could offer, and now 7 brave souls are being sent out to ensure everything works perfectly.

However, when Logan wakes from cryosleep from the journey, he is informed that several things are now in need of repair, though everything had been in perfect working condition when the station had been reconstructed before he and his crew had arrived. They will have to solve the problems they've been left with before the station is up and running, and yet Logan can't help but feel he's done this before...

Relationships: Intrulogical (Remus/Logan)

Warnings: Blood, Gore, Parasites, Remus having an overactive imagination, It’s an Among Us crossover so there will be bad stuff afoot.

A/N: For those of you who don't know, this story is based off of a comic by @fangirltothefullest which I HIGHLY recommend you check them out on the link above! Their art is AMAZING.

Note to everyone before we begin; there will be graphic descriptions of gore, dismemberment, possibly torture, and any other awful things that come with the territory of writing a story in an Among Us universe.

To read it on AO3 please click here.

Chapter 1: Log Entry #1

Stardate: October 17th XX20. 6:00 AM

Logan blinked his eyes open as the dim light of the cryodeck slowly brightened, emulating the rising of the sun back on Earth and offering a gentle escape from his induced hibernation. He waited patiently as his body began to realise that it was awake again and started to carefully move each digit. The tingle of pins and needles washed over him like a wave, but he'd been expecting it; he had taken the chance to research the effects that cryosleep would leave on the body, and had found it quite a fascinating read. Apparently it was very similar to freezing meat the preserve it, but the science behind it meant that the human body would be kept alive throughout the process, just severely slowed down, so when the process was reversed the human body had to take some time to recover. Hence the pins and needles.

He was just starting to curl his hands into fists when he heard the thud and slap of a body hitting the floor nearby, shortly followed by a long, low groan.

"You're supposed to wait until your blood flow has returned to normal," Logan said, his voice cracking for disuse.

The groan sounded again, followed by the sound of whoever it was who had decided that getting out of the pod immediately was a good idea crawling closer before a blurred dark head of hair with a streak of white revealed itself over the edge. Logan frowned.

"I thought Virgil was supposed to be in the same chamber as me."

Remus pouted. "Aw, don't you love me anymore, Ana-Logie?"

Logan raised an eyebrow at him at the nickname. "We were given specific cryochambers in which we were to be stored during our journey here. I can recall quite clearly that you were supposed to be with Roman while Virgil had been positioned next to myself."

Remus blew a raspberry at him and folded his arms over the edge of Logan's resting place, setting his chin on them. "Since when do I do what I'm told?"

That was a good point. "Then where is Virgil?"

"We swapped," Remus replied, biting his lip as he looked Logan up and down. "I didn't want to end up burning in an oxygen fuelled explosion and disappearing into the empty void of space unless it was by your side."

Logan smiled softly up at him and pulled his still tingling arm up to cup his cheek, humming when Remus leaned into it. "It is highly unlikely that we would have died in our journey. Everything was monitored by several A.I. systems, all of which have been tested on hundreds of previous missions. The chances of failure were miniscule."

"But it was possible," Remus said, his grin stretching the way it always did when he was thinking of something disturbing. "The cryochambers could have malfunctioned, turning us into frozen chickens, and we would have shattered into a thousand pieces when the chambers tipped over, which would have melted and we would have been all these bloody bits of bone and flesh, all mixing all over the floor, like a swamp where all the fish have died and it's turned the water rancid, and then the maggot and flies would have feasted on--"

Logan pulled himself up and shut him up with a kiss, making Remus freeze for a second before relaxing into him. Fingers wove into his hair, and the scientist sighed into Remus's mouth before pulling away, eliciting a moan from the man. "We didn't. We're fine. We are both awake and alive, and it is time we change."

"But I like you in skin tight latex," Remus said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"It would be more accurate to call this a synthetic polymer," Logan told him, pushing himself into a seated position and reaching past Remus for the glasses that had been stored in the side of the cryochamber, slipping them onto his nose he gave Remus an expectant look. "You know the only reason we would have been awoken would be that our arrival to the Station was imminent. I would much prefer it if you were wearing the correct safety gear for when we arrive."

"But wouldn't it be interesting to see what it was like for a human body to be exposed to the vacuum of space?" Remus asked, only to cackle when Logan pushed his face away.

"Get changed, Remus."

_______________________________

Stardate: October 17th XX20. 7:04 AM

Logan shifted the weight of his helmet under his arm as he headed towards the depressurisation chamber, the ship itself having docked only a few minutes after he and presumably everyone else had been awoken. Remus had taken every chance he could get to distract him and slow him down, so his usual twenty minute change into his suit had been prolonged, and he hadn't noticed the message until he was almost out the door.

Each member of the team had a set of keys, a security card and a tablet. Normally Logan would have checked the tablet for any news as soon as he had awoken, but it was only now he was stepping through the last door that he was reading the most recent message.

"Wasn't it supposed to be brand, spanking new?" Remus asked from where he was reading over Logan's shoulder. "Just spanking new?"

"Yes, that was the case," Logan said with a sigh, putting the tablet away in its pouch as the door closed behind him.

They were the last to arrive, as he had expected, and he did not appreciate the smug look that Janus was sending their way from where he was lounging in one of the seats near to a crate of supplies. Virgil was currently being led by Patton through some breathing exercises on the other side of the room while Roman rubbed his back in comfort. Orange was, as always, minding his own business, scrolling through his own tablet in the corner, his helmet beside him and ready to go. Remus immediately took the opportunity to flop on his friend in the yellow suit, much to Janus's chagrin, and Logan sighed.

"I take it everyone is aware of the situation we currently find ourselves in," he said, looking at each of them to observe their reactions before continuing. "It seems that the Station has been damaged in transit, so it will be our main focus in the upcoming days to repair the systems. It shouldn't take more than a day I expect."

"But what... What if it was something else?" Virgil asked between breaths, his eyes deeply shadowed despite the long sleep. "What if it was sabotage?"

"Yeah," Remus agreed with his usual grin. "What if it was the engineers who built it; maybe they made it to malfunction and kill us all! Or it could be a new HAL 9000, ready to blast us off into space one by one. Or maybe aliens-!"

Janus shoved him off his lap, shutting him up before Roman, who had been turning an alarming shade that almost matched his suit, could step in, Virgil's breathing becoming more erratic with each suggestion.

"The likelihood of it being anything other than some damage caused by transit is slim to none," Logan told them, adjusting his glasses. "I assure you, there is no reason to be afraid."

"And I shall be there to protect you," Roman said, placing a hand on his chest and posing as much as he could without removing himself from Virgil's side. "As is my sworn duty. No harm shall come to you as long as I am by your side."

Virgil did not look entirely convinced, but he nodded all the same, smiling at the flamboyant display.

"Either way, as we are all now here and have presumably taken a sufficient and healthy breakfast, shall we proceed?" Logan suggested.

Patton raised a hand.

"You don't have to raise your hand to speak, Patton."

"Oh, well then," the man in the light blue suit said with a happy grin. "I was just wondering if chocolate chip pancakes were healthy."

Logan blinked at him. "How can you-?"

"Yes, Pat, they're perfectly healthy!" Roman exclaimed, pulling Virgil towards the door. "Now let's go!"

Orange huffed and rose to his feet as he donned his helmet. "We're all ready, Blue."

"Yes, well," Logan said, adjusting his glasses one last time before twisting his own helmet into place. "I suppose so. Helmets everyone."

"Do we have to?" Remus moaned from where he'd been rolling around on the floor. "Wouldn't it be more fun if we-?"

"Put on the damn helmet, you rat in human form," Janus almost hissed, kicking him in the side for good measure. Remus laughed but put his helmet on, being the very last to do so, and shot up to his feet where he bounced in place as he waited, like a child on a sugar high.

The doors hissed as they opened, sliding apart to reveal the Sanders Space Station, the hallways near spotless and the lights bright and clean. It was almost like stepping into an Ikea or a show room, even coming with the smell of disinfectant, but a lot more technical. Having memorised the map over breakfast, Logan led the way through the maze of corridors to the cafeteria, as good a place as any to be called a base of operations, and stood by the central table as he waited for the six others to gather around. From the looks of it the integrity of the walls seemed intact, and nothing serious was wrong, as they knew, but still, it was better to err on the side of caution while they had yet to determine the status of the air.

"I thought we already had breakfast" Orange said, looking around in confusion.

"I thought it would be a good idea to set up a-" Logan pulled out his tablet and looked through his notes, "-'home base'. There are many tasks for us to do and I believe it would be more efficient if we split up to achieve them as quickly as possible."

"Because there is no 'I' in 'team'!" Patton agreed with a bright smile.

"Correct, you do not spell 'team' with the letter 'I'," Logan agreed with a nod, ignoring how several of the others snickered. "Now, from the list that has been sent to each of our tablets I can see that the Reactor has yet to be started, so I would suggest that Orange, as the most qualified with such things, would be perfect for the task." Orange hummed. "The engine would be a good place for you to move once you have completed that. Patton, I would suggest you take charge everything in Navigation, and Janus can take charge of tasks in Communications."

"I take it I've got the Medbay?" Virgil asked, his arms wrapped around himself, something he tended to do when he couldn't put his hands into his pockets.

"I'll go with you, Charlie Frown," Roman said, nudging him with his elbow.

"Actually, Roman, I was hoping you could-" Logan began but Roman waved him off.

"I will continue to ensure the safety of this vessel at Virgil's side," he said. "There's no need to worry, Specs."

"... Indeed," Logan drawled, turning to Remus at his side. "In which case, you can be in charge of the Weapons section. You and Roman can decide who can tackle the other sections that involve the security of the station."

As expected, Remus pulled him in for a hug, their helmets banging together as he tried to squeeze him through the fabric. "You're the best, my bleeding, puss riddled heart."

"Is there anything else we will be needed for in the near future?" Janus asked as the others either made disgusted faces as Remus's nickname or snorted as Logan tried to extricate himself from his partner's grasp.

"Uh, I just want you all to know that, should you come across any problems you come across that you believe will need a group effort, just set off the beacon in our suits and we can all meet back here. Any other tasks -- Remus would you put me down -- any other tasks you can do would be helpful."

"Sounds good," Orange said and spun on the spot, heading towards the reactor with a lazy wave over his shoulder. Roman and Virgil followed him soon after, the Medbay between the cafeteria and the reactor, and Janus went on his own towards the Communications room.

"Isn't this exciting?" Patton asked with a bounce. "I'm over the moon about everything!"

Logan sighed. It was going to be a long day.

_______________________________

Stardate: October 17th XX20. 11:27 AM

Logan had spent the better part of four hours trying to ensure that the oxygen filter was in correct working condition, along with all the wiring and such, but at last he felt he could safely say that it was up and running. For the last half an hour he'd been checking the oxygen levels in the Station and was pleasantly surprised to find that they had always been capable of supporting human life, so he checked it off his list with a satisfied smile.

He had heard Patton working in Navigation nearby, and Remus's maniacal laughter as he blasted the various detritus that had been gathering around the Station through the gun systems had been an enjoyable accompaniment, if a bit annoying after a while, and highly unnecessary, but now, as he rose to his feet, he could appreciate a break. Heading out into the corridor he took a quick left turn and came up behind Remus, who was sat on the the seat in the centre of the control area, and watched as he blasted a few more things on the screens.

"Take that you dry buttholes!" the man in green yelled as something exploded into dust on the right screen.

"Having fun?"

Remus immediately spun the chair around and pulled Logan into his lap. "Nerdy Wolverine!" he said, making sure Logan was straddling his lap and wrapping his arms around his back. "Here to give me a saucy lap dance?"

"I've actually decided that it was about time I had a break," Logan informed him, keeping his distance by setting his hands against Remus's shoulders. "That and..." He pushed himself back enough to be able to sit up without falling into his partner's chest and removed his helmet. "The air is breathable."

Remus stared at him for a few seconds before scrambling to remove his own and dropping them both to the floor with hollow thuds as he puled Logan in to kiss him thoroughly and invasively. Logan was all too happy to respond, grasping at the metal ring of Remus's collar. They had been asleep for years, travelling light years away from home, away from everything they knew, and while it might have been only a single sleep for them, it still felt like forever.

And yet the moment was broken, the beacon in their suits blaring loudly at them, and Logan pushed himself away from Remus in surprise.

"I'm going to disembowel whoever did that," Remus grumbled, allowing Logan up.

"I'd prefer it if you didn't."

"Don't be alarmed!" Patton said as he came in behind them. "I'm sure it's-. Hey! Your helmets are off!"

"Yes, the air is safe to breathe," Logan said, pulling Remus up.

"Did you do this?" the moustached man demanded with a sharp finger.

"No," Patton said with a frown. "I was just making sure the steering was straight and true."

Remus continued to glare at him for a few seconds before turning away, following Logan into the cafeteria.

No one else had arrived yet, though the three of them had been the closest to the cafeteria, and so Logan sat himself down at the central table as Remus wandered around the room, taking out his tablet to check on the tasks that still needed doing in the ship. From the looks of things they seemed to be on schedule, so whatever this was would only be a small hiccup in the scheme of things. Roman and Virgil had entered the room as he'd been studying the list, but still there was no sign of Orange or Janus.

"So we can take our helmets off now?" Roman asked as he looked between the three of them, all of them now bare-headed. "Thank God." He removed it quickly and set it down on the table, Virgil following his example, though he kept hold of it as they sat.

"Where's Orange?" Patton asked, looking past them.

"Oh, he's probably just-"

"He's dead."

Everyone turned to the door opposite the windows that showed the great expanse of space beyond. Janus stood there, leaning against the frame. There was a thick, shiny red liquid on his glove and smeared over his thigh.

"... What?"

_______________________________

Stardate: October 17th XX20. 11:51 AM

Orange was lying face up in the storage area next to the fuel tank, a smear of blood on the floor beside him, undoubtedly where he'd been lying face down before Janus had found him, as the majority of the front of the suit had been stained with his blood, and there was an uneven tear, revealing a mess of flesh, internal organs and bodily fluids. Blank eyes stared up through a cracked helmet. The six of them were stood around it in shock.

"... Are we sure we're alone on this ship?" Virgil asked after what had felt like an eternity of silence.

"We... We should be," Logan said, uncertainty rocking his foundations. This was supposed to be a safe mission. They were supposed to man the station until the rest of the crew arrived. They were only supposed to make sure everything was in working order. They were supposed to be safe!

"Should be?" Janus repeated with a sneer. "Orange is dead!"

"Yes! I've noticed that!" Logan snapped back, rubbing at his mouth as he watched Remus examine the body. "This... This shouldn't have happened."

"Well it did, didn't it," Roman said.

"What.... What should we do?" Patton asked, looking between each of them.

"We should put Orange in his cryotube before his bowels empty themselves everywhere," Remus said, getting to his feet. "Though I doubt we'll make it in time."

"Yes but, after that."

"Staying in groups," Logan said with a decisive nod. "Two or three per group at least. The more of us there are the less likely we'll be..."

"I'm with Log-in," Remus said, looking around the room and picking up a crate lid to shift Orange's body onto. "Need a hand, Ro. And preferably the rest of the body as well."

"Can you not!" Roman said in disgust but helped him move Orange onto the make-shift stretcher. "Storm Cloud, you're with me."

"Yeah, I'm not complaining," Virgil said.

Patton turned to Janus with an uneasy smile. "Well, I guess that means it's you and me-"

"I'll tag along with you two," the man in yellow said, pointing between Roman and Virgil.

"-Logan and Remus!" Patton continued as though that had been what he'd intended to say all along.

"Alright," Logan said and moved ahead of the brothers to ensure the pathways was clear for them. "Let's... get this over with."

_______________________________

Stardate: October 17th XX20. 12:20 PM

Orange had been sealed into his cryochamber, a task that had taken more effort than any of them had wanted, and there were now a few empty stomachs after smelling the half digested remains of his breakfast. Knowing the workings of death was not the same as experiencing them and no one was ready, not even Remus who was looking paler than usual. They were back in the cafeteria, sitting at the table and keeping an eye on all the entrances both Roman and Remus now with patches of blood on their suits from having to physically having to move the body.

Normally at his time Logan would have suggested they east something, but he knew none of them would be able to keep it down.

"What should we do?" Virgil asked, helmet now firmly back in place. "We can't just... wait here to get murdered."

"Logan did say that the more of us there are in one group, the more likely we'll be able to defend ourselves," Patton said with a forced smile. "Why don't we just, you know, stick together?"

"But then the alien might be going around sabotaging the Station," Remus pointed out, eyes flickering to every shadow as he touched each finger to his thumbs over and over again. "I mean, did Orange finish working on the reactor? And the engines; what if we weren't where we needed to be when the rest of the team arrives? They'd have to search for us, and that could take weeks! And then there's the Oxygen-"

As though Remus's words had been a prophecy the Station's alarm sounded and a yellow light flashed.

"Next time, keep your mouth shut," Janus said, pushing himself up from the table.

"We have to get to two panels," Logan informed them, painfully aware of the countdown that the overhead had begun in a tinny voice. "There's one in Admin and another next to the oxygen filter."

"We'll take Admin," Roman said, nodding to Janus and leading both him and Virgil in the right direction.

Logan, meanwhile, headed back to the oxygen station, but before he could get too far Remus caught his shoulder.

"Remus-"

"I'll go first," he said, moving ahead as he sent a grin his way. "If anyone's going to get disembowelled by a murdering alien it's me."

Logan felt almost physically sick at the thought but gave him a nod and followed behind.

Though there were only a few corners to turn to reach their destination, each one held a horrible danger and a potentially deadly encounter, turning the once safe and comforting realm into a nightmare. They held their breath as they stepped into the oxygen lab and Remus stood guard at the door, letting Logan get on with repairing the error. Although Patton's fidgeting at the side was a little distracting, Logan did notice that the error was actually fairly easy to fix, and it seemed to have been created remotely. That was odd. Very odd indeed. The only way for that to happen would be-

The voice stopped its countdown and the lights went back to their sterile glare as he closed the casing, confirming that the others had fixed their end, and they all relaxed minutely.

"That was a close call," Patton said, undoubtedly trying to sound optimistic but the wobble in his voice broke the illusion.

Logan nodded. "Let's go back to the cafeteria."

The three of them moved carefully back towards their meeting place, constantly on guard and feeling incredibly vulnerable with every step. It was an oversight to not keep something on the Station with which to defend themselves, and it was something Logan would certainly be bringing up with their eventual co-workers, but for now all they had was their suits and their tablets.

The cafeteria was empty and quiet when they returned, the vast expanse of space looming dark and cold out the thick, reinforced windows. Against all logical reasoning it made Logan feel more alone than ever and he reached out for Remus's hand, which he took with a squeeze in silence. They wandered to the central table, clustering together as they watched the door to Admin, waiting. Seconds passed, and those seconds turned into minutes, until the tension in the air could be cut with a knife.

"They should be back by now," Logan said, pressing closer to Remus's side.

"May... Maybe they went to check on the engines," Patton suggested, having come to stand on Remus's other side.

Remus continued to watch the stretch of corridor for a few moments, his face more blank -- more serious -- than Logan could ever remember seeing it before. "We should check."

Patton swallowed. "D-do we have to?"

There was another long pause before Remus nodded and he looked between the two of them. "I don't think they've gone to the engines."

Logan swallowed but nodded, having come to a similar conclusion himself. They would have returned here as soon as the oxygen situation had been resolved. He released Remus's hand to give him greater movement and followed close behind him when they headed onwards.

Each step seemed to echo, their breaths loud in his ears and the air was almost too cold. He didn't know what to expect, so his mind created images for him; a craze worker left behind by the construction crew wielding a bloody screwdriver, an android system that had become corrupted and was disguising itself as the very walls around them, some alien creature from the movies he and Remus had watched late at night back on Earth, using the shadows, the ceiling, and whatever else it could to get to them without being seen. Whatever it was it was still out there.

It was still out there, and it had killed not only Orange, but Janus as well.

The once yellow suit was now almost entirely saturated with blood, the domed glass of the helmet shattered and Janus's face stuck in a look of shock. Logan didn't know where all the blood had come from exactly, but it had started to pool around the body, and he stepped closer, almost hypnotised by it. The human body held approximately 10 pints of blood. There were a myriad of veins in the body. Janus was dead. If a main artery was punctured, say in the leg, neck or arm, it would take 30 seconds before unconsciousness and 3 minutes until death. Janus was dead. Similarly it could take up to 5 minutes to die if the heart was--

"Logan!"

He blinked, surprised to find Remus was holding his face.

"Hey, Nerdy Wolverine. You back with me?"

Logan blinked again and nodded.

"Good," he said, planting a kiss on his brow. "Now, we still don't know where Roman and Virgil are. It might be that they were taken by whoever-"

Darkness. Complete and utter blackness fell over them, the lights clicking off. Patton squeaked in fright somewhere near the door. Logan clutched at Remus. Remus pulled Logan close.

"Electrical," Logan said. "We have to go to electrical to fix the lights."

"How can we fix it if we can't see?" Remus asked, his warm breath brushing against Logan's cheek.

"The panel should have some battery powered light in it," Logan said, cursing that he'd left his helmet in the weapons bay; though it wasn't much they had a small light in them, one which would have been incredibly useful now. "Patton, can you come closer so we can all stick together?"

Silence.

"... Patton?"

Still nothing.

"Logan," Remus said, his voice low, almost a whisper. "I think..."

Logan's grip on Remus tightened and he nodded, the cold seeping into him as they stepped forwards together, creeping through the blackness. Until their feet hit something soft and wet. Logan whimpered.

"We have to get to the shuttle," Remus said, starting to pull Logan down the hallway, leaving Patton's corpse behind them. "We can lock the doors behind us and-"

"What about Roman and Virgil?"

"They're probably dead," Remus said, choking on the word but pausing all the same. "They're probably in pieces. Roman... We can't think about them. We-" The words cut off, choked with a gasp, and Logan felt him stiffen.

"R-Remus?"

"Logan... I love you. I love... I love you so much." Remus said, his voice wet and broken. He could hear a smile in his voice, and then he felt him fall. "You're... the best thing that ever happened to me."

"I love you too," he replied, tears streaming down his cheeks as he collapsed down beside him, reaching for his face to hold him. "Remus. Remus I love you so much." He could feel a presence behind him, the certainty of death creeping over him, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Remus had stopped moving had stopped breathing, and he sobbed in agony at the loss until he felt something sharp and serrated slice through the flesh of his throat.

It takes 30 seconds of blood loss from a main artery until unconsciousness...

_______________________________

Stardate: October 17th XX20. 6:00 AM

Logan blinked his eyes open as the dim light of the cryodeck slowly brightened, emulating the rising of the sun back on Earth and offering a gentle escape from his induced hibernation. He waited patiently as his body began to realise that it was awake again and started to carefully move each digit. The tingle of pins and needles washed over him like a wave, but he'd been expecting it; he had taken the chance to research the effects that cryosleep would leave on the body, and had found it quite a fascinating read. Apparently it was very similar to freezing meat to preserve it, but the science behind it meant that the human body would be kept alive throughout the process, just severely slowed down, so when the process was reversed the human body had to take some time to recover. Hence the pins and needles.

He was just starting to curl his hands into fists when he heard the thud and slap of a body hitting the floor nearby, shortly followed by a long, low groan.

"You're supposed to wait until your blood flow has... returned to normal," Logan said, his voice cracking in a somehow familiar way.

The groan sounded again, followed by the sound of whoever it was who had decided that getting out of the pod immediately was a good idea crawling closer before a blurred dark head of hair with a streak of white revealed itself over the edge. Logan frowned.

"Have... Have we done this before?"

[lins-fandom-hub]

09/01/1998 (1)

Part 1 || Part 2

Here’s part 1 of a 2-part fic that I wrote that commemorates Clara’s Hogwarts friends/peers lost to battle against the forces of evil.

The concept of time was humankind’s greatest enigma. It cared not about what happens in the life of any one person. Like the river in the wood, it flowed, knowing not of the stones overturned or the sediments caught in its current. Once a mark had been made, there was no erasing it; once a phenomenon had come to pass, there was no reverting it to what once was.

Time was supposed to help the dust settle over the ruins. Thoroughly damaged beyond repair, yet shrouded in the remnants of what once transpired, the image of what history left behind would only be made clearer after time had passed. Time was supposed to help the physical cuts heal. The open lacerations seeping blood through the flesh would have scabbed and closed with patches of new skin depending on how deep the wound was. Even as they happened, though, time would never let anyone forget the phenomenon that had ensued. Time didn’t care how anyone healed, grieved, smiled, or cried.

Time certainly didn’t care how anyone lived or died.

Clara closed her fingers over her wand and stood from her chair, empty eyes that once bore tears lingering on the sunny scenery outside her window. All those years ago, she had prayed for a sunny day to greet her on the day she departed home for Hogwarts, and every year, it had always been either cloudy or rainy--she even remembered the stormy day that commenced her third year all too well. A small sigh escaped her lips as she looked at the clock by her writing desk--it was 9:00 am. If she was still a student, she’d be travelling right now in one of the Ministry cars her father borrowed from the Ministry with him to King’s Cross Station, her mind abuzz solely with plans to find Jacob and bring him home. If she was still in China, she’d be drilled through military exercises set by the captain of the Chinese Wizarding Task Force without a single thought of her past. Those days were long gone, though--the past was now behind her. Today was a special day, but not for a good reason. Today, she and what remained of her circle of friends would throw a special celebration in memory of all the friends who had fallen, and all of those who sacrificed their lives to help Harry Potter defeat Voldemort at Hogwarts.

Merlin...the Battle of Hogwarts seemed so long ago. It had taken so long for the dust to settle over the relics, but she couldn’t move past the horror that she had witnessed. Her chest ached as visions began to swim in her mind--the corpses of her friends lying in the rubble, the crack of every spell relentlessly attacking those who still remained standing. She recalled the number of spells she had to deflect with her steel fans from the Task Force when her protective barriers shattered, the triangle of Death Eaters surrounding her at once threatening her to collapse. If she closed her eyes, she could see every misfired curse shattering the stone walls, tossing bodies back as if they were only rag dolls…

The soothing touch of her fiance’s fingers tracing over her arm eased her breathing, but it did nothing to stop the tears pricking at her eyes again.

“What are you thinking about, Clara?” Barnaby asked her quietly, gently wrapping his strong arms around her from behind and holding her close to him. She could only hum as she leaned back into his chest, exhaling quietly as the tears spilled over her cheeks.

“It’s the Battle, is it?”

Clara nodded. “Well...sort of.” She opened her eyes, turning to face her fiance. “There was something Dumbledore told me so long ago, back when we were still sixth years. He said that if there was one thing anyone could count on, it’s death. It comes for everyone in the end. But you know how quickly it took a lot of our friends--Rowan in our sixth year, Cedric the summer before I left for China…”

“I know,” Barnaby murmured, lifting a hand to wipe her tears away. “I know.”

“It’s hard,” Clara whispered. “It’s so hard…”

She buried her face into his shoulder, wrapping her arms tightly around Barnaby as she tried her hardest not to sob. The terror that first gripped at her when she fought apart from him snaked its way back into her chest, not unlike the cursed ice that spread through the school in her second year. Death took so many people she held dear to her over the years, it was a miracle that she still remained standing. Rowan...Ben...Tonks...Fred...Talbott...heck, she couldn’t even begin to believe that Merula was dead, too. Even Dobby and Cedric, whom she didn’t know very well, felt like kin--and yet they too were brutally murdered long before the ultimate siege.

“What do you think they’ll be doing?” Barnaby wondered, tilting his head slightly. “You know, in the world of the dead.”

Clara winced slightly at the question. “I don’t know,” she mumbled eventually. “Maybe look down upon us like angels would.”

“I know Rowan is. She’s your best friend, after all--what best friend wouldn’t want to shield you from harm?” Barnaby said, slowly rubbing a hand over Clara’s back to calm her down.

“To think that everyone went into this battle not trying to protect me for the vaults this time, but fight against the one all wizardkind feared,” Clara mused. “I shouldn’t feel guilty, but I do. I just hope that what we invited everyone to do today would be enough to finally find closure and…”

Barnaby nodded as she trailed off, tilting her head up with a hand to look her in the eyes. Her glasses were smudged from the tears now streaming over her face.

“I’m sure they will love it,” Barnaby reassured her softly. “Not just all the ones still alive, but those who passed on. I know I would.”

It’s taken Clara weeks to pull herself together after the battle, and even more after that to seek solace from those who still remain. Only a few days ago did she finally settle the date of their wedding, yet it didn’t feel right to celebrate a day of union without sharing it with all their friends, alive or dead.

Two days to go. After that, our lives might change for the better.

She had to hold it together. Not just for them, but for herself too. Closure would not be given to those still vulnerable to breaking.

“Yeah,” she finally murmured, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “I would, too.”

---

There was no bachelor and bachelorette party for this couple--heck, they couldn’t imagine the consequences for the other should a disaster occur while they were apart. Instead, a few weeks ago, Clara had sent her owl, Wagner, out into the world with letters for all their friends and loved ones. Today, everyone who was willing to come would Apparate to their house, and then gather in their vast open backyard in the evening where the ceremony would commence. 

“And done,” Barnaby declared as he delicately placed the final cherry on the top of a massive white-iced three-layer cake. A slow grin spread across his face as he looked at his best baking masterpiece--no, it was not their wedding cake, but it looked good enough to be one.

That was when the doorbell rang, and he jumped, almost knocking the cake over.

“I got it!” Clara called, running down the stairs and securing her crimson crystal hair tie around the single braid over her left shoulder. “Just set the parlour up, Barnaby.”

“Will do.” Barnaby nodded and carried the massive cake to the parlour, humming a little tune to himself.

Clara opened the door to reveal Penny and Beatrice now standing at the threshold. Both of them were wearing black dresses that went down to their knees. The plaits that were normally in Penny’s hair were now combed out, her hair now split into two braids down her shoulders. Beatrice’s hair, for the first time since Clara could recall, was held back with a headband, revealing both of her blue eyes cast down with a sad glimmer.

“Clara!” Penny greeted her friend with a hug, which Clara wholeheartedly returned.

“Hey, Penn.”

Time had changed the little girls who became friends in their first year to young adults who had survived more than one war. As they broke the embrace and looked at each other, they both caught the matured gleam now stripped of whatever carefree sparkle once graced their eyes, the tragedies they both withstood in their time at school, the weariness that came with demands that required their individual expertises.

“You hanging in there?” Penny asked Clara quietly. “I know it’s been hard on all of us.”

Clara nodded solemnly. “Trying to. It wasn’t hard when the names in the list of casualties were still unrecognizable, but it’s different now when everyone you knew gave their all to protect the school and the Boy Who Lived. Not to say I regret it--”

“I know what you mean. I’m sure none of them regretted it either,” Penny assured her.

“At least we’re still together,” Clara said with a shrug. “Jacob, little Em and I at least escaped the war unscathed. And you’ve got Beatrice, too.”

Beatrice nodded as she produced another stuffed Puffskein from her pocket--almost similar to the one she gave Clara when they first met--and gave it to her. “Is your sister coming?”

“She should be,” Clara confirmed with a nod. “Do come in, both of you. We have cake and Butterbeer in the parlour, and I think Barnaby should almost be finished with grooming the Puffskeins.”

The second one to arrive, much to Clara’s surprise, was Skye Parkin, her Wigtown Wanderers jersey billowing in the wind as she hopped off her Comet 290 in front of their house.

“Skye!” Clara exclaimed upon her arrival. “I wasn’t sure you’d make it, what with training for your upcoming tournaments.”

“This means a lot to you, doesn’t it? I might as well be there for it,” Skye responded shortly, giving Clara a small smile. “Besides, one of our Chasers recently came down with a serious bout of Scrofungulus. We don’t have any backup players to properly play against the Applewood Arrows today.”

“Oh. That’s a bummer. You wish I was there to step up to the plate?” Clara asked, remembering fondly her short tenure as Chaser for the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

“It would be nice. But I figured you need time to...you know,” Skye said uneasily, and Clara nodded in understanding.

Shortly after Skye went in to help herself to some of Barnaby’s cake and chat with Penny, Andre, Murphy, and Orion made their appearance on Clara’s doorstep. Andre’s Pride of Portree jersey flapped in the wind behind him, in the same manner as Skye’s jersey. Murphy’s colourful tie worn for all his Quidditch commentating duties was swapped today with a black bowtie. Orion was also wearing all black from head to toe.

“I told the staff that I wasn’t feeling well,” Murphy explained. “And I’m not! There’s a 95.7% chance that after such a travesty it’s hard to think of the light ahead.”

“But what is light without darkness?” Orion asked. “It’s with light that we have darkness.”

“Or should it be the other way around?” Andre queried, raising an eyebrow. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re doing this, Curse-breaker. In a time like this, I think we all really need it.”

“Thanks, Andre. And I’m happy to see you’re alive and well too, Murphy and Orion,” Clara said, bowing them into her home where they went to the parlour to meet Penny, Beatrice, Skye and Barnaby. 

Soon, Chiara, Jae, Diego, and little Em all arrived together, the girls holding onto extravagant bouquets of colourful flowers. Jae was holding tightly onto Chiara’s free hand, balancing a large box of delicacies in his other hand. Diego’s fingers were interlaced with little Em’s, his scarf from his old school days wrapped around little Em’s shoulders to keep her warm.

“Darn it. I miss my hoodie already,” Jae muttered, his teeth chattering slightly.

“Relax, Jae. It’ll only be for today,” Chiara consoled him with a small smile before turning towards Clara. “How are you doing, Clara?”

“Faring as well as I can,” Clara simply said, smiling wanly at the group. “Thanks for coming, guys--really, it means a lot.”

“Anything to get to spend time with you, Clara,” little Em reassured her older sister with a hug. “I would not miss my sister’s wedding for anything in the world.”

Diego nodded in agreement as little Em returned to his side shortly after. “Indeed. How swiftly childhood leaves us as we emerge as veterans from a war well fought and won.”

“I just hope that this celebration would mark the first chapter of genuine happiness for all of us,” Chiara finally piped up. “With all that’s happened, I figured we all need it.”

A little while into the afternoon, Tulip, Liz, and Badeea arrived together, Badeea’s hands still smeared with paint as she brought in a giant portrait of their fallen friends. Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Percy, George, and Angelina followed swiftly, George still trying to hold back tears as he held fast to Angelina’s hand; Clara couldn’t blame him. George didn’t just lose a brother in the battle, after all; he lost his twin, his second half who understood him better than anyone.

How quickly everyone’s grown, Clara realized, as she closed the door behind the Weasleys and followed them into the parlour. Glancing around at her friends grabbing drinks and some of Jae’s homemade delicacies or the cake Barnaby made, talking in low voices among themselves like old friends, she could see the hint of sadness in their eyes along with the gleam of maturity that long replaced the carefree, happy spirit they once felt. They fought more than just one battle, leaving them all with more scars than they’d hoped for--yet through their grief, they remained standing strong. They had weathered through so many storms together that they became the storm themselves.

“Is that everyone?” Chiara asked quietly as she sipped from her bottle of Butterbeer, watching the large crowd mill around the parlour and the kitchen. “Or are we still waiting for a few people?”

Clara frowned as she glanced at the clock--it was now five in the afternoon, and there were still a few last stragglers she had yet to see. “I think we have Ismelda and Jacob to wait for,” she eventually answered. “Jacob I know is with my parents, but Ismelda...I haven’t heard from her since the end of the war.”

“Ismelda’s still alive?” Penny asked, raising a brow and glancing at Beatrice.

“What are you looking at me for?” Beatrice inquired, grabbing another piece of cake from the dainty multi-tiered platter on the table. “I haven’t kept tabs on Ismelda either since I graduated from school.”

CRACK!

A sudden Apparition within the house made everyone jump, Beatrice almost dropping her cake in the shock--when the smoke cleared, Clara saw Ismelda and Erika standing in the middle of the parlour, travelling cloaks fastened tight around them. Ismelda quickly drew her arm away from Erika, massaging her upper arm to rid it of the soreness in the potential death grip.

“Did you have to grip onto me that hard?” Ismelda grumbled, shooting Erika a death glare. “And I thought I already told you I didn’t want to go!”

“I had to do what I could to make sure you got here in one piece,” Erika shrugged. “And if you say another word about this gathering being nothing but a waste of time--”

“Fine, fine.” Ismelda shook her head, a groan escaping her mouth. “Anything to save you from using me as your practice dummy.”

“That’s more like it.” Erika gave her a little smirk, her eyes darting about the rest of the group. “So this is what a party for the dead looks like.”

“Not much of a party so much as it is just a time to come together,” Murphy corrected her. “And it’s a good thing Clara’s hosting this for us. I figured we all needed it.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s just get this show on the road,” Ismelda finally said. “Is there anything we can do besides just…” She gestured around the room. “Eat cake and drink Butterbeer and mope?”

“Well…” Clara glanced around at the group--it felt a lot like the Circle of Khanna all over again, except this time there was no one else to stand by her for support. The days when Ben and Merula flanked by her were long gone now, both of them now buried in their graves a few feet below. “We prepared a bonfire pit in the backyard, and enough sky lanterns for all of us.”

“Sky lanterns?” Tulip asked, intrigued. “I haven’t seen one of those in so long. They’re part of the ceremony, right?”

“Of course,” Clara nodded. “They’re an integral part, so to say.”

“Nothing’s ever been the same since, well…” Skye glanced awkwardly at the group around her. “I mean, I’m not one to go all mushy but...I can’t imagine all of us losing people we care about so much. And all of you are great people in some way--”

She was suddenly cut off by Penny embracing her in a hug, which Skye returned hesitantly, burying her face into Penny’s shoulder.

“The people who love us never really leave us,” Barnaby piped up then. “I remembered how bad I felt when Rowan died...and then I thought I would lose Clara too when she left for China. But time taught me that they’ll always be here with us no matter where they are. Bright souls will shine like bright stars in the sky, now and forever. I found a lot of comfort in looking at the stars every night.”

These words brought a scarlet dust to Clara’s cheeks, and she smiled at him ruefully as she took his hand, lacing her fingers with his. Whether that was a vow intended for their wedding or not, she would never know, but it was enough for her to make her melt on the spot.

“You’re right,” Bill nodded thoughtfully at Barnaby’s words, taking Fleur’s hand and squeezing it tight. “The stars provide comfort for those who need it most. It’s really in the darkness where we can find the light.”

At this, Andre gave Orion a pointed look, and Orion just shrugged it off, nodding at Bill.

“I suppose there’s really no use in waiting any longer,” Clara eventually said--the sun was just beginning to set, and the group was getting much too large to accommodate indoors. “Let’s all head outside to the backyard. Barnaby, can you lead them? I have...something to collect from upstairs.”

Barnaby nodded at his fiancee, kissing her lightly on the cheek. “Of course, my unicorn.” He then motioned to the rest of the group to follow him. “Come on outside, everyone.”

As everyone filed out, Clara headed towards the stairs and began to ascend two steps a time--the moment she reached the landing she wasted no time in heading to her bedroom and opening the door to her closet. Peering into the mass of fabrics, her eyes landed at the bottom of the cabinet, where a single dagger laid in its black sheath lined with golden dragons, laced through the leather belt she had to wear in her days at the Chinese Wizarding Task Force.

To most, it seemed like a simple ornate dagger, most likely an article of decorum worn by royals in important ceremonies. With a polished ruby pommel at the end of a leather grip hilt, and a few engravings on the blade, it looked insignificant, almost ordinary. But to those who served in the task force it meant so much more--it was a weapon she had used in the fight against the Japanese dark wizards on more than one occasion. Where magic failed, the dagger had helped her lay many a blow on those too fast to hit with a spell, those who resisted the effects of magic in ways she would never know. She fought along those who had also given their life for the cause, fought with the same blade she held now--never a day went by when she didn’t think of them. Some survived, some died, and all for a united cause.

She honoured so many of the unknown dead with this knife strapped to her side. It only seemed fitting that she did it now, too.

“Clara? You coming?”

Clara turned around just as she looped the belt around her waist--standing at the doorway to her room was her little sister, head tilted in intrigue and eyes shining in concern.

“Yeah. Sorry.” Clara adjusted the belt over her clothes and walked over to little Em. “I was just...getting this dagger. Custom to wear it for funerals when I was working with the Chinese Wizarding Task Force.”

“Ah.” Little Em nodded thoughtfully. “Sorry, I should have knocked.”

“No need to apologize.”

It had been much too long since Clara last saw her little sister, her little Em--four months since the end of the Battle where they fought together but not at each other’s side, never getting to see each other after the dust had settled over the ruins and the wounds had all but healed in their natural time. What once were two young children who bonded in a sole promise to protect each other within the walls of Hogwarts were now two women who had no idea how to shield each other from the other side of the world. It was only a miracle that they hadn’t lost the other to the perils of the world turned upside down by none other than Voldemort himself. Moments like these between two sisters bound by blood were far and few in between since then.

“I’ve missed you so much, Clara,” little Em finally admitted. “I was worried about Jacob in the fight but when I heard you were there at Hogwarts too…”

“I thought I’d never see you again, either. I wasn’t sure if I was able to make it out of the war alive,” Clara mumbled. “How, though?”

“Stuck close with Diego. It helps to have a strong dueller at your side,” little Em said. “And you?”

“I was with Tonks at first, but when she was defeated I had to hold my own,” Clara replied. “It wasn’t easy to feel that drive to fight after seeing a casualty right in front of your eyes, but I’ve had enough practice.”

“You shouldn’t have to keep suffering, Clara. I know why you joined the task force in China, but...promise me that at the end of all of this you’ll find some peace and happiness,” little Em pleaded. “All your life you’ve been fighting, and I understand it was for a cause. Just...I don’t want you to break under all the pressure. You have so many people who worry about you, and it would break my heart to find that you’ll never find happiness again at the end of the day.”

“Em.” Clara turned to face her sister now, a small smile on her face. “All I want is to make you happy, to fight for your happiness and safety every day. Knowing that you’re here and you’re happy and safe is enough for me to feel happy and safe.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Yes, I promise.”

Little Em smiled, a brief second of relief, before taking her sister’s hand and leading her out of her room. “Come on. Everyone’s waiting for you.”