#a bit bulkier than I wanted but eh
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silkspiderrr · 6 months ago
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Mommy bought herself a muzzle
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rorywritesjunk · 3 months ago
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(Day 19. "Is this for me?" SunnyxBuggy with some ThistlexMarco. This AU I gave Sunny an injury to her hand which ended her apprenticeship early and had her joining Buggy sooner.)
"So, what are you getting him for his birthday?" Thistle asked as she and Sunny watched Buggy carry around little Rayleigh. The little girl decided Uncle Buggy was the absolute greatest person and refused to be held by anyone else currently. The little visit the four of them arranged was nice: head to an island that would be neutral territory for both crews. Buggy still took some issue with his sister being part of and married to a member of Whitebeard's crew but he stopped complaining about it when he was given the baby to hold.
"I ask and he either says he just wants all the treasure..." Sunny began to say before glancing over at Thistle. "Or... He gets very lovey and says that I'm his greatest treasure so... I don't know yet."
"He's such a romantic nowadays, isn't he?" Thistle hummed as she watched her brother with her daughter, how he kept lifting her up to show her some trees, point out birds, little things like that. All Rayleigh wanted to do was grab his nose. "He's grown up so much."
"I really want to get him something special." Sunny sighed as Buggy tried to keep his head away from his niece. She kept reaching for his face. "I just don't know what."
"The only thing I remember him loving more than treasure was some pancake whale stuffy I stole for him when we were first taken in by Roger and Rayleigh." Thistle told her as Buggy finally caved and let the baby grab him. "He chucked it over the side of the ship when he turned 10 after some asshole said he was too old for that sorta thing."
"What?! That's so mean!"
"Eh, not everyone was always nice." Thistle shrugged. "I stole all of that guy's shoelaces after that, however. I didn't like what he said to Buggy."
"Why shoelaces?" Sunny asked.
"So he had to walk everywhere barefoot." Thistle told her. "And sometimes there were sharp rocks and broken glass."
"... Huh, okay."
"Anyway, you'll think of something. I wouldn't worry too much."
Sunny nodded, a look of concentration on her face as she watched her husband. How could someone say that to a child? She looked back at Thistle.
"Could you draw it for me?"
~
Sunny's birthday came first. Buggy gifted her with pretty fabrics his crew looted from a merchant ship, along with some nice kitchenware. He offered to give her the jewels he found, but it wasn't necessarily her idea of treasure so she let him keep it. He made her dinner, got drunk, told her all night how much he loved her, then crashed on the bed at midnight.
She made sure he was comfortable before she went to clean the kitchen as she thought about what to do for his birthday. She had a small idea but wasn't sure how she'd accomplish it.
~
Buggy's birthday came faster than she expected but she was ready. She cooked him a tasty dinner and gave him his gifts. Three new cravats she found at a shop, two new bandanas (one cut from the same fabric of a dress she managed to make from his gift to her, the stitching was a little rough in places but Buggy said nothing as he tied it around his hair), and the final gift she almost hesitated to give him. What if he thought it was weird? Would he get mad at Thistle for telling Sunny about it? She didn't want the siblings upset with each other, they only just reconnected after all those years apart.
She hesitated on the last gift, keeping it behind her back while Buggy finished fixing his hair under his new bandana. He spotted the polka dotted wrapping paper and looked up at his wife.
"Is this for me?" He asked, pointing with one hand while the other snuck around to grab it. Sunny tried to take it back from him but he kept it out of her reach. "Ohhh, what didja get me, babe? Hm? What's got you so shy?"
"It's-"
"Oh, maybe sexy lingerie you wanna wear for me?" He grinned at her as he brought the gift back to himself. "Feels... A bit bulkier."
"It's not lingerie, honey." She told him. "But... I don't want you to get upset."
Buggy frowned at his wife before looking back at the parcel in his hands. Glancing back at her, he carefully unwrapped it, wondering what she was going to give him. Divorce papers, maybe? No, she loved him. She told him this morning in bed when she was in his lap, her hands touching him as he held her close, grateful for her to be in his life.
The paper fell to the ground and he held up a mishaped flat whale. The fabric was a dark blue with light blue polka dots. The stuffing was uneven in places and the eyes were stitched on lopsided. Buggy swallowed heavily and looked up at her.
"Thistle told me about this. I... I thought maybe you'd like it." She laughed nervously as she reached for it. He hated it, didn't he? Not only did she likely stir up sad memories from his childhood, the thing looked ridiculous. She struggled to do some of the most simple tasks now that nothing came out right. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"
He set it down before standing up. Sunny stood her ground, wondering how he would react, but he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her close as he let his cheek rest against the top of her head.
"Buggy?" She wrapped her arms around him and looked up at him. "Honey? Are you okay?"
He pulled back and cleared his throat, wiping at his eyes. "It's perfect, babe. Don't stress, okay? It's-uh, it's a one of a kind thing, y'know? And *I* have the only one!"
"You like it then?" She asked. "I-I went off a drawing your sister did for me. She told me what happened and I felt so bad for you and-and I wanted you to have a good birthday since this is the first one since we got married and-"
Buggy silenced her with a kiss. He didn't want her to doubt the appreciation he had for the gift. He knew she worked hard on it, knew it would have been difficult for her to cut out the pattern, sew everything together, and wrap it. Her hand injury made things difficult for her and the fact she took the time to make it for him told him how much she really loved him.
When he pulled back from the kiss, her eyes were wide and shiny with tears but she was smiling at him.
"I'm glad you like it, Buggy."
"Yea, well, I'll like anything you give me, babe." He grinned as he leaned down to cover her face with kisses. She let out a surprise yelp, trying to wriggle away from him but not making much of an effort. He let one hand venture over to the table, wanting to touch the gift once more.
He couldn't believe she made that just for him.
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falcon-eye · 4 years ago
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So I’ve been writing on my phone and this one almost made me lose my shit because when initially hitting “copy” I accidentally hit “paste” and deleted the entire fucking thing. Thank GOD gmail keeps a copy of your notes. Holy shit.
Again made for @inexplicifics Accidental Warlord AU
Veko and Eloise’s domestic adventures continue! I’m so happy people actually like them! I’ve grown so close to them both. This will be part of their bigger story, because since I’ve been writing on my phone they’ve been really small and when I expound on them I want to add more details before all this, like about Veko and Hamra and all that. So consider these teasers I guess? That’s why the endings feel so abrupt. Or that’s the excuse I keep telling myself. I don’t know. But when I finally post everything it will be on AO3, and I may put these little ficlets on AO3 as a fic as well.
Anyway hope you enjoy this one! Veko and Eloise return!
——————
The next time Veko saw Eloise was just as bizarre as the first. Except this time, she ended up helping him as opposed to him saving her father again. It was, somehow, even more awkward.
It was a few weeks of a full year later. What was supposed to just be one kikimora turned into a while nest, and despite this, the alderman barely wanted to pay him what he said he would for the one kill, let alone a whole cluster of them. He wouldn’t even let Veko inside. Luckily it had almost literally just stopped raining. But it was getting to the point where Veko was having to take a few calming breaths between the arguing; the alderman was a miserable prick, but Veko didn’t want to snap on the guy.
“You take what I give ye an’ be done with it!” the alderman shouted, reaching for the dagger at his belt. “Or you’ll get no coin and—“
“Husband!” a woman’s voice rang out. Veko and the alderman jumped; fucking rain and yelling, making Veko’s senses dull. A small force practically ran into him from the side and wrapped a hand around his elbow. “What seems to be the problem?”
“Uh—“
“Eloise!” the alderman exclaimed. Oh shit, that’s where Veko knew her from! “Nothing t’ worry about, this Witcher was jus’ leaving.”
Eloise turned to Veko, pressing closer. “You were?” she asked, faking concern to apparently Veko’s ears only. “But darling, you just got here!”
Veko’s mind went totally blank. “Hello?” he said dumbly.
The alderman’s eyes narrowed. “What?” he hissed. “Eloise, this man—“
“Is my beloved,” Eloise cut in. The alderman’s mouth shut with an audible click. “Last year, don’t you remember? The Witcher that saved my father from those drowners!”
Veko continued to stare at her.
“But—“ the alderman stammered.
“Now what’s with all this shouting over here?” Eloise barreled on.
“I sent this Witcher here to kill the kikimora roamin’ about,” the alderman said.
Eloise gave Veko’s arm a little shake to snap him back into the conversation. “I, uh,” he stammered. “It wasn’t just one. There was a whole nest.”
Eloise clapped a hand over her mouth and gasped dramatically. “A whole nest!” she exclaimed, drawing the attention of the townspeople nearby. “My goodness! I’m so glad it’s been taken care of! Oh, Lennart, I don’t know what we would have done had a whole nest of those beasts descended upon the town!”
People were starting to whisper. The alderman—Lennart’s heart rate sped up. “Oh, well yes, I, eh, was good indeed.” He looked like he was trying to both glare at Veko and keep the shock of Eloise’s outburst off his face at the same time—and failing.
Eloise finally let go of Veko and took the alderman’s hands. “Do you need help with the coin?” she asked innocently. “For the additional kikimora? I know things have been difficult since Nora left—“
“I can handle it!” Lennart exclaimed, eyes darting around at the growing mass of people who’d come to hear about the monsters. The alderman patted Eloise’s hands and laughed nervously. “I mean, that’s alright dear! I-I’ve plenty of coin for the Witcher here! Let me—I’ll go get it.”
Lennart raced back into his house and the crowd of people began to disperse, clearly boring of the now dwindling conversation. Veko was still not sure what the fuck just happened. But before he could ask, the alderman burst back outside and practically threw a pretty hefty sack of coin into Veko’s hands.
“Splendid!” Eloise exclaimed, and then turned to Veko one more. “Shall we go, darling?”
Veko nodded, letting himself be led away, once again, by this bizarre woman. But just before Lennart went back inside, Veko turned to him, held up the bag of coin, and winked. Lennart turned an ugly red and slammed the door behind him.
“Fucking weaselly prick,” Eloise hissed. Veko guffawed.
“Holy shit,” he said. “Where did you even come from? How did you find me? What—what the hell was that?!”
Eloise held up a hand and ticked answers off her fingers. “I was in town putting an order for paints in, saw your horse tied to a tree near the edge of town, and Lennart is a right prick but easy to exploit because of it. His wife Nora left a few weeks ago with some adventurer who came through town. She knew he’d been trying to bed any girl in sight and rightfully left.”
Veko pocketed the bag of coin. “Well I’m not going to complain,” he said.
Eloise tucked her hand into the crook of his arm again. “Are you planning on staying?” she asked. “Papa says it’s supposed to rain; he can feel it in his knees, he says.”
Veko started itching at his burns. “I, uh—“
“Right, coming with me then.”
Veko laughed again and Eloise guide the way.
——————————————————
For having apparently acquired Eloise and her home, this was the first time Veko had actually been inside. It was cozy, the walls painted a pale pink and yellow. The kitchen was warm and smelled amazing, Eloise having apparently left something cooking while she’d been out.
Peering into the next room, the apparent main room of the house, Veko found bottles of paints and an assortment of brushes set up at an easel against the far window (splattered in paint); blank canvases were piled behind it. But actually giving the room a look-around, his attention was immediately drawn to the walls lined floor to ceiling with the most beautiful paintings Veko had ever seen.
Landscapes of what Veko recognized as the local stream and the goat paddock out back, faces he didn’t recognize but could have started up a conversation with him with how real they looked, random assortments of everyday items put together to make some interesting structure—there was art everywhere.
Veko didn’t realize he was gaping until he heard Eloise chuckle. “Like what you see?” she asked.
“They’re amazing,” Veko replied, reaching towards a painting of a young boy.
“Don’t touch!” Eloise snapped; Veko jumped. “Sorry, sorry, they’re just—when they dry the colors fade of you touch them.”
“Sorry,” Veko said, shoving his hand into his pocket.
Eloise shook her head. “It’s always been a dream of mine to be a famous painter. Sometimes I get commissions or sell some in Oxenfurt. There’s a man who comes by to take them to market every now and then. Anyway, apparently my father went to bed early,” she said. “Stew?” Eloise chuckled. “I can paint a delicious meal but actually cooking it, eh...”
Now it was Veko’s turn to laugh. “I’d love some, whatever it tastes like,” he said. “And—thank you, for that shit with the alderman.”
Eloise waved him off. “Honestly? Bringing you up has been doing wonders around here,” she said.
As Veko sat down at the table, he remembered: “Did you call me husband?”
“How long ago was that and you’re just realizing that now?”
“In my defense, you came out of nowhere!”
“Aren’t you supposed to be this great warrior with heightened senses?”
Instead of answering, Veko leaned forward and smirked. “You think I’m great?”
Eloise stared at him for a moment before scoffing and shoveling a spoonful of soup into her mouth. “A great pain in my arse,” she said, “and you’ve only been here five minutes.”
“Might I remind you that you’re the one who dragged me here.”
“Yeah, because you looked like a bloody kicked puppy when I asked!”
“Kitten.”
Eloise blinked. “What?”
Veko tapped his medallion. “I’m from the School of the Cat, so I’d be a kitten.”
There was a moment of silence before Eloise let out a ‘PFFFT!’ and burst out laughing. “Did you really just—“
“I can leave right now!” Veko exclaimed, but there was no heat behind it. Eloise’s laugh was loud and hoarse, hardly ladylike or cute, but for some reason Veko liked hearing it. He wanted to hear it again.
Eloise wiped tears from her eyes. “Just eat your stew, Witcher,” she said.
“Veko,” Veko said. “My name is Veko.”
“Veko,” Eloise repeated, like she was getting used to how it sounded. “Nice to officially meet you, husband.”
Veko started scratching his burns. “Oh gods.”
Eloise smacked his hand like she’d done last year. “Stop doing that,” she snapped. “You’re going to make it worse.”
“I’ve had it for fifteen years; I don’t think it’s going to get worse.”
Eloise was quiet. “How—? Never mind.”
“No, it’s ok,” Veko reassured her. “My brother and I got into a fight. Or something. I can’t remember. But it was an accident, either way.”
“Is your brother also a Witcher?”
Veko nodded, having just stuffed his face with stew again. “Yah,” he said, his mouth full. He swallowed. “Identical twins, actually. Though my hair’s longer and he’s a bit bulkier than I am. His name’s Hamra.”
“Veko and Hamra,” Eloise said, “twin Cat Witchers, huh?”
“Yes ma’am,” Veko replied. Over the course of the meal, Veko explained the basics about the Cats and their caravan, how they worked and why they occasionally split up. Eloise, for her part, only asking questions when he’d finished a story and let him talk most of the conversation. Normally, talking is what Veko was used to, but both times he’d been with this woman she’d shocked him into silence. It was nice to be comfortable again.
Night settled quickly and when they finished their respective meals, Eloise took both their bowls to wash. “I’m going to set a cot up for you,” she said over her shoulder.
“What, no bed?” Veko teased.
“Other than my father's bed, there’s only one other and it’s mine,” Eloise replied.
“Not enough room for husband and wife?”
Eloise suddenly turned serious. Without even turning to him she said, “I’ll not bed you, Witcher.”
Veko held his hands up in surrender, even though her back was still turned. “Ok,” he said softly. “Just messing around, sorry. Didn’t mean to upset you, truly.”
Eloise sighed deeply and finally turned to him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I just. I don’t want that. From anyone, ever. It’s—it’s hard to explain. Just thinking about... that... makes me... extremely uncomfortable.”
Veko nodded. “I understand,” he said. “I mean, I don’t, but I respect that.”
Eloise smiled. “Thank you,” she said.
“Is that why me being your husband is useful?” Veko asked; Eloise’s heart rate sped up. “I don’t have a problem with that!” he quickly assured her. “It’s just, last year you said something to that effect.”
Eloise looked him in the eye for a moment, maybe trying to assess if he was telling the truth? And then nodded. “Yes.”
“Well, that’s no problem here,” Veko said. “Gods know I only really come through this area once a year. I could swing by to keep up appearances.”
“And I could help you bleed Lennart dry of all his coin.”
Veko smirked. “I like the way you think.”
Eloise smirked back. “I think this is going to be a very successful partnership.”
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askmyboys · 3 years ago
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I’d call these more, my own interpretations instead of just OCs
I’ll tell you how this happened tho, i was literally just comin back from a l o n g ass road trip listenin to the musical and my tired lil brain started thinkin bout these boys and i was like ...what if i just,, made my o w n versions of em? What if I just,, and then boom, out popped well, this-
| Names: Henry Jekyll and Edward Hyde
| Nicknames: Jekyll doesn’t much care for nicknames but Hyde calls him Jek, Hen or Hen-Hen, or Henny which he REALLY hates. For the other, it’s either Ed or just simply Hyde ...Jekyll has given him many ‘nicknames’ mostly they are hateful ones tbh.
| Genders: Henry goes by he/him and Hyde goes by he/him and it/its
| Ages: Unknown but they are both adults
| Heights: Jekyll is 5’7” and Hyde is like 6’6” for sure (even tho they inhabit the same body, fuck it, im makin the rules ..andchangingthemfromtheogthing but i say height changes when Hyde’s in control)
| Species/Races: Henry’s a human ofc and Hyde? Honestly, idk what this thing is, all i can tell you is he’s stinky
| Eye Colors: Jekyll’s eyes are a Baby Blue color and Hyde’s eyes are Blood Red (ooh e d g y man)
| Hair Colors: Jekyll’s hair is honestly a messy curly undercut and the color of it is a dark brown and he has gray on the sides meanwhile Hyde’s hair is Black and in a spiked quiff style and he also has gray on the sides
| Skin Colors/Body Types: Jek’s a BIT pale but Hyde’s a much more- his skin is definitely more so a Whitish Gray kinda color so it’s definitely more noticeable than Jek’s skin if you look close enough at that (things do have to change when a certain one is in control of the body, can’t be EXACTLY the same or else it might give away that their the same person hehe) and their body types don’t really change- Jek’s body type is skinny (nothing TOO bad ofc, just a tad bit) if Hyde had his own body he’d definitely be a more average kinda bulkier build.
| Appearances: Okay first things first- they both have circle beards EXCEPT Hyde’s is a LOT more scruffier (he also has thicker sideburns btw!) and a BIT more grown out than Jek’s which is trimmed a bit more and groomed perfectly.
Jekyll usually has the typical lab coat on and a baby blue turtleneck underneath it, he also has blue pants that he wears with it as well and some oxford shoes that match the outfit, he also wears circle glasses as well (they help him see a lot better p much whereas when Hyde’s in control he doesn't really need em actually) Henry has a GOOD amount of scars all over his body, whether it be by accident, inflicted on purpose, or something more… It’s partially why he keeps his turtleneck on mostly and the lab coat helps as well- he’s ashamed of the scars and he tries to hide them especially so no one will worry about him, also for some more minor details- he wears a black watch on his wrist as well (he has no piercings or nothin like that) that’s p much it for Jek tbh, his features are p much 100% human so uh yeye
Now onto Hyde’s outfit- And yes, keep in mind- he’s still kinda,, an entity or whatever the fuck he is inside Henry’s body essentially but he DOES change his clothes when going out- his main one for going out is usually a black cloak he wears around himself (the outfit underneath is a black suit vest with a long dark red tie (his shirt underneath the suit vest is a dark red long sleeved shirt), he also wears black pants, and dark red oxford shoes, and of course he’s got a black top hat on (the band on it is red, definitely keeping a black n red themed appearance here aint he?) (his other outfits, hm I can leave up to the imagination tbh this is just for when he’s travelling around and so other people don’t spot him nearly as easily, especially when it’s n i g h t t i m e…) he’ll wear whatever the fuck he wants, and it doesn’t have to be fancy in the s l i g h t e s t- he has a variety of options.
He also has pointed ears, razor sharp teeth (got them bear trap teeth but not only that, he’s got a lot more s e c r e t teefs than that ;) he’s a lot more monstrous on the inside than the outside i’ll say that much, Jek’s n Hyde’s anatomy does change and transform depending on who gains control ...honestly it probs hurt to have your body transform and shift like that ouchie) he also has multiple tongues, he has claws that he painted black and red for the a e s t h e t i c s ya know- and hell at this point he might as well have tentacles ...He might- but I mean if you really wanna know, fuck around and find out for yourself and fuck it- he also has a dark red devil style tail since he wanna act like fuckin Satan himself smh
...I made him a lot more monstrous than originally planned but eh its fitting- bc this is Jek’s body even with a LOT of changes in these regards, he’s got the same scars n such as that, he also wears black and red spiral gauges in his ears (I should also say, he can technically hide these features to make himself appear more human, i didnt originally intend on giving him any actual monstrous features except maybe sharp teeth, claws, n the pointed ears but here we are, he still gotta not arouse suspicion around him too much tho) also his eyes have dark circles around them, not because he’s a tired man he’s just a fucking- hellish bastard who loves to look intimidating.
| Personalities: Let’s uhh start off with Jekyll because he’s better and nicer and not nasty and gross n smelly looking- He’s kind, sweet, compassionate, caring, honestly wouldn’t hurt a fly himself- could never willingly hurt someone! A sweet babey man! He’s very intelligent- I mean,, he IS a Doctor after all, he takes pride in his work but it’s not that overbearing narcissistic type pride, he’s just proud of the breakthroughs he’s made ...Granted, there is one “breakthrough” he wished he could take back .. -glancing slowly at Hyde in the reflection of the mirror- ahem- but he’s always been pretty outgoing but a lot has changed since, that abomination came into his life, sure he still tries his best to be a good person, he tries his very damnedest to find some sorta way to separate or better yet a way to destroy this evil vile beast that plagues his and everyone else’s lives! He’d rather destroy Hyde than separate from him because even then, it's still back to square one only with worse damage since he’d be of his own free will now.
He shuts himself away in his Lab a LOT, as much as he can anyways to avoid going out and risking something more happening to anyone else, of course…
There is no avoiding the outside world forever, he needs things to eat and drink, he needs things to keep his body functioning and not to mention not going outside could drive him, well, more insane than he already feels he is- He just tries to be as quick as he can about it before the other takes control or tries to, Jek definitely has a lotta anxieties and fears, and ya know at this point I mean,, hell- the man’s got trauma- Sometimes he wonders if any of this is actually real, if he had just gone insane and was just imagining all this, sometimes his head hurt because of all the thoughts and potential scenarios along with their outcomes plagued his mind, he feels a lot of things he never thought he’d feel towards anyone, he feels anger and hatred toward Hyde but in a way aside from feeling so negatively toward the other, he can’t help but admire the way Hyde wishes to just simply l i v e, and even before this beast became apart of him… He was always anxious deep down and almost scared to take that jump when needed.
But Hyde? Hyde doesn’t seem to even c a r e! That thing lives it’s life without any care whatsoever, he doesn’t have any anxieties or fears at all it seems! In a way, Henry might even be a lil envious toward the other’s carefree attitude and that he’s free of anxieties and fears ...H-He still doesn’t want the other around, he still wishes to destroy Hyde of course, even with the envy and maybe a slight bit of admiration he has his morals and principals, and if Hyde continues to exist or w o r s e gets his own body it could prove v e r y perilous.
Now onto… Eugh, Hyde- The bastard man himself- He’s stinky- an evil bastard who really needs just a good punch in the face (god don't do it yourself tho, he’ll probs eat ur entire arm) Hyde’s absolutely disgusting, will do ANYTHING to get what he desires, he can be narcissistic in some regards, VERY prideful and greedy in many ways, he isn’t above committing murder like really, was he EVER above it? If he wanted, he’d literally murder you not even for a bag of corn chips but literally just one, psh- selling you to satan for one? Bah that’s amateur’s work! He’s somehow a minor inconvenience who can commit REALLY nasty and horrible atrocities at the same time if he feels like it, if he finds out something annoys you or REALLY pisses you off he’s going to keep doing it, he will literally try driving you insane just for the fun of it, really at this point it doesn’t seem like he HAS much of a goal but to just l i v e and cause chaos, destruction, and mayhem wherever he goes, he despises Jekyll in many ways, one being for trying to destroy him first and foremost but also Henny is just s o fucking weak, such a weak man with far too many anxieties, fears, etc- He’d be SO much better of a man if he’d simply let Hyde take control and STAY in control!
It’d make everything a lot easier, then Jek wouldn’t have to worry about ANYTHING ever again! No more of that pathetic nonsense! If it were possible, Hyde would absolutely l o v e to have his own body, separate from Jekyll, that way he could have his own life separate from that pathetic weakling’s! But… Even then, Jekyll and Hyde are one, in many ways they are absolutely apart of one another, two sides of the same coin, even with their MAJOR differences in personality and Hyde almost seeming like an entirely different entity just merely possessing Jekyll, after all, Hyde will admit it himself, he spawned from deep within Jekyll’s mind, he’s tried to get the other to see time and time again that he’s always been apart of the other deep down, Jek’s always had a more mad and evil side to him! Even if the other will deny this and take the denial to his grave, Hyde always persists in trying to get the other to see the truth in front of his eyes!
Aside from that tho, Hyde is just generally a dick and loves to mess with Jek and terrify him sometimes for literally no reason, hell he could be bored one day and decide “Hey Henny, fuck you, you suck” he loves to start drama, he loves to cause problems on purpose- Both of them would give anything to separate from each other, even if Hyde knows the truth deep down bout the both of them, even if he were always originally a part of Jekyll, it didn’t matter, that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t jump at the opportunity to get his own body, away from that pathetic coward of a man!
| Side Facts: Jekyll rarely ever gets to relax or any free time, he’s too worried to give himself that in fear he’ll lose control, he’s almost CONSTANTLY fighting to keep control over the other, even though he knows it's physically impossible to do so, after all, he can’t stay awake forever, sure that doesn’t stop him from trying to stay awake as long as he can before his body practically forces him to pass out and he’s MUCH weaker than he used to be, I mean hell, given how long Jekyll seems to have been around, fighting SO much and almost EVERY single day has practically worn his body down but whenever there is an opportunity for any “free” time he usually spends it trying to figure out an antidote or a way to get rid of Hyde (I will say, before Hyde REALLY started doing bastardous n horrendous things, Jek would still get annoyed with him bc he was always that way but he actually, I’d say tolerated him more so than he does by now) and Hyde even- well, he still disliked Henry IMMENSELY so, but he definitely wasn’t as bad or as awful as he is to the other now, it was more so I tolerate you and we dont have to seriously fight or struggle with each other for control and back then Jek would even sometimes let Hyde have control.
But then… A serious incident (I wont name what exactly) but a serious incident that happened caused the two to absolutely despise each other (i didnt say up there, yes, Hyde absolutely despises Jekyll but there is some heavily hidden admiration in regards to the other’s determination, his persistence, and even somewhat of his creativity, Jekyll despite being an annoying nuisance in Hyde’s way, he does have some admirable things about him) but anyway- ever since that incident occurred, Jek has tried almost EVERYTHING he knew of to get rid of Hyde, even if separation from his body would still be bad bc that could mean Hyde would obtain his own body honestly? I believe Jekyll would still take that opportunity if he were given it, if he needed, he’d try and find someway to stop Hyde’s evil, maybe it’d be easier even if the other had his own body, he didn’t know, he just wishes he could be free from all this torment and agony like gosh damn give this man a b r e a k. Give him some fruit gummies and an appy juice carton and leave him be!
When Hyde is in control he wastes little time in finding things to do, being able to be out, to see the world, the world ripe for chaos and destruction, he wastes little time in getting straight to work with whatever his devious lil mind wants to think of- also for more monstrous purposes, back up there, I was p vague with the mention of teeth on his insides- p much teeth going down his throat and hell who knows, the bastard probably has teeth on the inside of his stomach at this rate- Another not so fun fact, this man can unhinge his jaw! Yaaay so u can see sharp teefs! ...He does have to kinda set his jaw back in place though bc god forbid Jek takes control then.
Smh imagine taking back control of your body only to have a fucking dislocated j a w wouldn’t that be hellish?
Hyde rarely ever does this for a few reasons- he only does it if he’s in the mood for just takin a big chomp outta someone (big chompy) just, just please- lock this thing away- or kill it, it's a menace to society and deserves nothing good- two more things btw, tbh I genuinely wasnt even considering inhuman features at first but ya know, I compromised- he has them he just chooses to hide them more often and speaking of, while Hyde says he’s always been apart of Jekyll (well this version I made anyway) that deep down their two sides of the same coin, can you really believe him? I mean, I’m not going to spoil it and tell ya anything in that regard, but who knows, who knows what Hyde REALLY is, whether or not he’s always been apart deep down inside of Jek or just some form of entity that spawned via that wonderful little formula.
And the final thing is, their voices are p much based on the musical ones' voices- Hyde’s is that deeper n raspier kinda voice while Jek’s is much softer and ya know POLITE sounding.
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in-class-daydreams · 5 years ago
Text
Blue Star | Oikawa x Reader | Ch.1
- Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x Reader
- Word Count: ~ 3,900
- Genres: Fluff, angst, Ushijima doesn’t know what a meme is
- CW: Mild swearing
- Summary: Sometimes, (Y/N) wonders if it was hard for her father to send her away. To a new prefecture, a new home, a new school. It all just might be worth it when after becoming the (suspiciously knowledgeable) manager of the Aoba Johsai boys’ volleyball club, she meets Oikawa Tooru. Together, they do their best to exorcise demons they thought would never leave. They learn about progress, when to strive for it, and when to accept the realities that cannot be changed. 
Chapters: First | Previous | Next
Sweaty and shaking, (Y/N) sat upright in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room. The walls were eggshell white, bare, pristine as if they had been untouched. There were no souvenirs or personal belongings anywhere, save for a short pyramid of boxes sitting in the corner.
Stiff, unused sheets wrapped around her, nothing like her beloved bed set back home.
                ‘Oh, that’s right…” she thought, ‘This is home now.’
Her mind flashed back to the busy day before, where she said goodbye to her mother and had the movers bring only some of her belongings to her new apartment so that the space didn’t completely fill up with unpacked boxes.
After some long, deep breaths, (Y/N) turned her attention to the obnoxious noise her phone was making.
The overly bright device read ‘6:20’.
(Y/N) flopped back down on her bed.
She ran a hand down her face, groaning. 
“I don’t really need an education, right? I’m still pretty flexible. I could probably drop out and become a stripper, right, Hubble? The club down the street is always trying to hire new people.”
Across the room, the round orange tabby gazed back at her judgmentally.
The teen rolled her eyes at her pet, “Thanks for the support, Hubs.”
Once in the bathroom after a long struggle to drag herself out of bed, (Y/N) rested her weight against the sink. Gently touching the bags under her eyes, she sighed.
“I’ve looked better,” she said to herself, “Hey! Bad kitty!”
She tried to nudge Hubble off the counter, only for the feline to look at her with a look of even lesser interest than she gave frogs or mice.
Realistically, (Y/N) could lift the cat of the counter herself, but honestly, she didn’t have the energy to do so.
Rather than get dressed for school, she sat down on the edge of the custom made bathtub.
Lips pursed, she said to her cat, “Hey, at least you got to come with me, rather than stay home with mom and dad. That’s good.”
Hubble gave her the facial equivalent of crickets chirping.
Snatching her new uniform from its hook, yanking the brown plaid skirt up her thighs, she grumbled to herself, “First I get exiled to a whole new prefecture, and now I’m talking to my cat, who has also decided to be a dick to me, but this is what I needed, right?” she asked sarcastically, “A ‘change of pace.’”
She tucked in the lilac dress shirt far more aggressively than necessary. Her sigh of relief was cut short when she spotted the cream vest and a blazer that she had to wear.
“Why does this stupid uniform have so many damn layers!” she screamed into the empty apartment.
Soon after, her shoulders sagged in resignation. Expertly lacing up the uniform tie, she sighed for the nth time since she woke up. There was no use fighting it any more. This empty, desolate apartment was her new home. Aoba Johsai was her new school. No amount of anger was going to change that.
She recalled the conversation she had with her childhood friend before she left.
“Wakatoshi said to just keep to myself. That’s easy. I can do that. Of course…” she glanced over to the box pyramid on the other side of her bare apartment.
(Y/N) stalked over, picking up the box on top, securely sealed with red duct tape. A scowl marred her already unpleasant expression.
Desperate to get it out of her sight, she shoved the box unceremoniously into her deep bedroom closet, where it (hopefully) would never bother her again.
~~
“It’s kind of weird to get a transfer student in the middle of second year.”
“Maybe one of her parents got a new job or something.”
“What if she’s a delinquent?”
‘You know, it costs you nothing to mind your own freaking business.’
“All right, class, settle down,” the teacher raised her voice just slightly. “This is (L/N) (Y/N). She’s our new transfer student, and she’ll be the boys’ volleyball club manager this year. Make sure you all treat her well. Please have a seat in front of Iwaizumi-san.”
(Y/N) bowed, “Thank you, Yukino-sensei.”
The woman nodded, “Of course. I hope you enjoy your time here at Aoba Johsai.”
(Y/N) slid into the desk in front of a tan, spiky-haired boy who she recognized from middle school, only now it looked like his biceps were about to bust his uniform sleeves. It took her a second to realize who it was.
“Hajime!”
(Y/N) froze, worried they were no longer on a first-name basis, but the teenager just smiled back at her.
“(Y/N)! How’ve you been?”
“Eh, same old, same old. But it looks like you’re doing great! You’ve gotten so much bulkier since middle school! What have they been feeding you?” she said, causing him to laugh and ruffle her hair.
In fear of Yukino-sensei’s wrath, the class stayed relatively quiet. Though, people were stealing glances at her a noticeable amount. In their defense, they had a valid reason. One of the most intimidating students alive was being extremely friendly to an unknown, unheard transfer student. The stares were annoying, but not distractingly so.
The moment the final bell rang, a cluster of students swarmed (Y/N)’s desk.
“(L/N)-san, why did you transfer?”
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
“(L/N)-san, how did you get the manager position?”
Ah, the manager position. That one came up a lot. Honestly, she didn’t see why people were so worked up over it.
She couldn’t exactly ignore her classmates, so she responded in as few words as possible, “I had to,” “No,” “I asked for it.” She kept her answers brief, hoping her fellow students would find the lack of response boring rather than alluring.
“(L/N),” Iwaizumi called out.
Her head immediately snapped to where he was standing by the door.
“You’re our new manager, right? Want me to show you where the gym is?” he asked gruffly.
(Y/N) grabbed her school supplies and practically ran over to Iwazumi, who had a tall brunette boy standing behind him.
“I’d appreciate that, thank you.”
On the walk to the gym, Iwaizumi introduced the brunette, Oikawa, to her.
“I was Iwa-chan’s handsomer, much more popular friend, remember?”
Oh, she definitely remembered him. Was she about to tell him that, though? Not a chance. She pretended to think for a moment, then shook her head.
“I’m sorry, Oikawa-san, that doesn’t ring a bell.” She tilted her head, “Besides, Hajime here is a perfect 10, so I don’t know where this ‘handsomer’ business came from.”
While Oikawa stopped in indignation, (Y/N) walked on as Iwaizumi followed, laughing shamelessly. 
“It’s not like you remember me, either,” she added.
Oikawa pouted, “That’s not my fault! I was invested in volleyball, not cute girls.”
(Y/N) ignored him and the three of them walked along the school hallway in silence for a while. (Y/N) did her best to keep her mouth shut, but her curiosity got the better of her.
“Hajime? Do you know why the manager position is so important to people around here?” she asked tentatively.
Iwaizumi barked a laugh, “That’s because--”
“-because I’m on the volleyball team! The manager gets to spend time near me, which is something pretty much everyone around here wants,” Oikawa winked and made his signature peace sign.
He grinned charmingly at (Y/N). Iwaizumi facepalmed. (Y/N) stared back blankly.
“Sure,” she deadpanned.
“Huh? You’re the one that asked!” Oikawa protested.
“She didn’t ask for an egotistical answer like that, Crappykawa,” Iwaizumi growled. He turned to (Y/N) once again, “As annoying and stupid as that answer is, he’s not entirely wrong. He’s really popular for some reason.”
“Weird.”
“I know, right?”
“Hey, don’t gang up on me!”
(Y/N) ducked under Oikawa’s arm into the gym, turning slightly to thank him over her shoulder. The first person to greet her was the short, stout Seijoh head coach.
“Well, if it isn’t (L/N) (Y/N). You have no idea how happy I was to hear you’d be transferring to our school,” Coach Irihata gave the teen a small nod. “Though, I wish it were under different circumstances,” he grimaced.
(Y/N) bowed at him respectfully, “You and I both, Coach. I’ll put all my focus into being your team manager from now on.”
The older man laughed, “I don’t doubt that. Let me introduce you to the team.”
He led her to stand at the edge of the court.
“This here is Mizoguchi, the coach. He’s a bit of a hardass.”
“Are you allowed to be saying these things, Coach?”
“Were you planning on reporting me, (L/N)?”
“Touche.”
Coach Mizoguchi had all the boys line up. The two coaches and (Y/N) walked down the line.
“These are our first-years, Kyoutani, Watari, and Yahaba. Our second years, Matsukawa, Hanamaki, Iwaizumi, Oikawa--”
‘They’re an odd group. Not horrible mismatched, but definitely not inherently interwoven like other teams I’ve seen.’
“We’ll be playing quick, 3-on-3 practice matches so (Y/N) can see what you can do.”
Some of the boys looked surprised, others even leaned over  and whispered confused words to each other. At the same time, their new manager felt every drop of blood draining out of her face.
(Y/N) leaned in, “Coach, may I speak to you for a moment?” she whispered frantically.
Irihata allowed her to lead him out of earshot.
“I know I’ve asked a lot of you lately, Coach, but if we could call as little attention to me as possible, I would be eternally grateful. I doubt anyone will say anything, but if we could avoid giving them unnecessary hints, that would be ideal.”
He quirked a brow slightly, “(L/N), this is just a small request. You don’t have to grovel every time you ask something of me.”
(Y/N) fiddled with her track jacket, “I know. You’ve just done so much for me already.”
“So much by your standards, very little by mine. All I had to do was put in a good word for you. You secret’s safe with me, (L/N). Do your best as our manager,” he clapped her on the shoulder before gesturing for her to head back to the courts.
By the time practice was over, the players were all dog-tired and drenched in sweat. Despite the fact that her brain had gone numb from the busy analysis, she felt she had gotten a good grasp of the team’s individual and group abilities, having written mini reports in her notebook about all the players, their habits, and how they work together. Each player’s individual page included a few people they worked especially well with, but (Y/N) noticed that everyone worked especially well with Oikawa. He seemed to bring out the most ability and talent in everyone he set for.
It was unfair, really. Such amazing athletic talent, coupled with fluffy brown curls and a sharp jawline, only to be spoiled by a smug, flippant attitude.
Earlier, she’d made the mistake of letting him catch her staring once. The corners of his lips quirked up slightly, causing her to look away quickly.
(Y/N) changed back into her school uniform and locked up the main gym. Shouldering her bag, she noticed the lights on inside one of the smaller gyms.
She stepped inside to see Oikawa practicing his sets against the wall. He’d taken the time to change out of his sweaty practice gear, but he just changed into clean, dry practice gear.
“Oikawa-san?” she called out.
The setter caught the ball and turned his attention to her, “Ah, (Y/N)-chan! Heading home already?”
She nodded, “Yeah. You’re still going to be practicing for a while?”
A look of annoyance flashed across his face before returning to his usual carefree expression.
“Yes, I will be.”
(Y/N) nodded, taking a few steps in to set the master key on the bleachers, “I’m heading home, so please be sure to lock up when you’re finished.”
Had she stayed just a second longer, she’d have seen the slightly dumbfounded, mostly intrigued look on Oikawa’s face.
~~
“Wakatoshi, I’m having the time of my life!”
“That’s an unexpected response, though I’m happy for you,” Ushijima’s slightly pixelated voice came from (Y/N)’s firepods.
“I’ve been keeping to myself enough where no one bothers me, I get to manage the volleyball team, and I’ve had two whole weeks of fucking peace here. All my hopes and dreams have come true.”
“Well, not all of them--”
“Stuff it, Ushijima, I know,” she grumbled.
A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest, “Sorry, sorry. Have you met Oikawa Tooru yet?”
(Y/N) frowned, dodging a group of boys walking down the hall in the opposite direction.
“Yes,” she said in a small voice.
“Why did you say it so quietly?”
“No reason,” she said just as quietly.
“You find him attractive, don’t you?”
“What? Him? But he’s so-- he’s such a flirt! He always has girls hanging around him and he always looks so pleased with himself. Not to mention he’s a genuinely amazing setter and he’s a considerate captain and--”
“So, you do find him attractive?”
“I mean,” (Y/N) huffed, stopping outside the equipment room door, “Yes.”
“More attractive than Semi?”
“I’d say they’re about the same.”
“Wow. That’s a high compliment coming from you.”
“Isn’t it? But-- Oh, I gotta go, Wakatoshi, I need to fill the water cooler.”
“I’ll talk to you tonight.”
“Later!”
(Y/N) was breathing hard as she carried the water cooler from the equipment room to the gym. She wondered if they could get a wagon or some sort of wheels so she didn’t have to pull a muscle just to fill the cooler every practice. Better yet, maybe just let them die of dehydration so she wouldn’t have to move at all.
Sigh.
No, (Y/N), this isn’t that type of school.
Finally making it to the gym, she took a deep breath and shuffled inside. Almost immediately after she set foot in the gym, all of a sudden, the water cooler had slammed back into her, pouring its icy contents all over her and her uniform.
She fell flat on her ass, rubbing the sore spot on her chin where the plastic had knocked into it.
‘Someone around here wants me to relieve them of both their arms,’ she thought.
“Kyoutani!” she heard Mizoguchi yell, “How did your spike end up all the way over there?”
She didn’t get the chance to hear the first-year’s reply before Coach Irihata kneeled in front of her, the boys crowding around the two of them.
‘No, no. Deep breaths, (Y/N). It was just an accident. Breathe in, breathe out. In, then out.”
Taking a final deep breath, she looked up, smiled sweetly and said, “Don’t worry. It’s just a little water.”
Iwaizumi came up behind her and hauled her up by the armpits, “You alright?”
(Y/N) nodded in affirmation.
Oikawa passed her a large - presumably his -  Seijoh BVBC sweater. She fully expected him to say something that would get him smacked by Iwaizumi, but was surprised to see him walk away almost immediately.
~~
Stepping out of the locker room, (Y/N) looked up at the dark evening sky.
“It’s already this dark?” she wondered aloud.
“Yep. It’s that time of the year,” came a voice from behind her.
Oikawa stepped out from the boys’ locker room, hair still damp, and aqua t-shirt clinging to his skin slightly from the moisture.
She stared at him.
He tilted his head. “I do take breaks sometimes, you know,” he said as if he’d read her mind.
“Could’ve had me fooled,” she replied, gathering her composure and making her way towards the front gate.
“See you tomorrow, (Y/N)-chan,” he waved her goodbye.
“See you tomorrow.”
Exiting the school gate, they both turned left, ending up walking the same direction anyway. They chuckled awkwardly.
“Never mind, then,” Oikawa smiled.
“I’m getting on the G-train and going down 6 stops. You?”
“G-train, 8 stops,” he gasped,  “(Y/N)-chan, we live so close! We can hang out together every day!” he teased.
(Y/N) huffed, turning away so the brunette couldn’t see her smiling, “We already hang out every day, nerd.”
“How hurtful! I can never spend too much time with you, (Y/N)-chan,” he nudged her playfully with his elbow, letting out a small ‘oof’ when she pushed him back.
They got on the G-train, which was mostly empty around this time of night. Their car held them and two other girls from their school, who seemed to pay them little mind, aside from the occasional glances that were typical in Oikawa’s presence.
The brunette stared down his nose at her, “So. Are you ever gonna tell me why our brand new lady manager has an abnormally thorough knowledge of volleyball?” he questioned.
(Y/N) took a seat across from Oikawa. He made himself comfortable opposite her.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about Oikawa-san,” she said innocently.
Oikawa leaned forward in his seat.
“I saw your notebook. Your notes are way too detailed for anyone less than an expert. Did you or a family member or a friend or whatever play?”
Her gaze turned downcast. The train car was relatively empty, and he seemed genuine enough for her to softly reply, “I used to.”
There are two specific expressions (Y/N) saw the most of in the months following the incident.
One was less common. It was a thinly-veiled smugness, poorly hidden behind feigned sympathy. It was a look that said, “You got exactly what you deserved.”
The second was much more common, and on the days that made her want to lay in bed all day, seeing that expression plastered all around her like wallpaper just made her want to dig into the earth and make a home for herself there forever.
Pity.
It’s the same look every time. Their eyebrows go up, then furrow, finally slanting down as the realization dawns on them. Their mouth will drop open like they plan to say something, but no words come out because what are they supposed to say?
He must have seen the look of anguish on her face, because his expression morphed through each phase of that second type, word for word.
“You don’t play anymore because you won’t or because you--”
A dark shadow crossed her face, “I’d rather not talk about it.”
Oikawa nodded, “Okay.” His pretty brown eyes rolled up to the ceiling in deep thought. “What’s your favorite cake flavor?”
(Y/N) blinked at him confusedly for a moment, then her expression shifted to one of realization, and she gave him a small smile, the most genuine he’d ever seen her wear since she arrived at Aoba Johsai.
“Red velvet!”
“That’s just chocolate with red food coloring.”
(Y/N) gasped loudly, “You take that back!”
Oikawa raised his hands in defense, “I’m sorry, I only speak facts. Is now a bad time to mention I love pineapple on pizza?”
(Y/N)’s jaw dropped, “Are you serious? Do you even have taste buds, pretty boy?”
The taller male laughed and teasingly batted his lashes, “You think I’m pretty, (Y/N)-chan?”
She rolled her eyes, “I don’t know how to tell you this, Oikawa, but everyone thinks you’re pretty. You literally have a fanclub. They bring you homemade cookies on a regular basis.”
He got up from his seat across from her, only to settle down in the seat beside her. They sat there, shoulders against each other’s. Oikawa Tooru smelled like mint and the breeze on a summer night and a little bit of man sweat, but that’s to be expected coming straight from practice. It was a very distracting few seconds.
“But I don’t care about everyone’s opinion, (Y/N)-chan, I want yours.”
(Y/N)’s cheeks buzzed with heat. Ugh, he’s unfairly cute, isn’t he? But! Even if she would never tell him, she remembered him from middle school. He didn’t remember her. A guy like Oikawa was probably flirting with her because she didn’t fall desperately at his feet. She wasn’t going to be a part of that game. Not now, not ever. 
At the sound of her stop, she stood and made her way over to the door. Just forcing the blood in her cheeks down through sheer willpower, she said, “I’ll see you in school tomorrow, Oikawa-san.”
Oikawa leaned back in his seat.
“Hey, (Y/N)? You’re not thinking I’m flirting with you because I’m some tail-chasing fuckboy, right? Because if you are,” he quirked a perfect eyebrow at her, “That’s hardly fair, is it?”
‘What? How did he know??’ she internally screamed, ‘He’s right, though. A lot of girls like him, but it’s not like he has a reputation for sleeping around or anything. Even if he did, that’s not for me to judge.”
(Y/N) braced herself against the open train doors. The cool night air blew into the train from behind her, ruffling her uniform skirt. She groaned.
“That smug face you make when you know you’re right? Yeah, I hate it.”
The setter’s hand came up to rest under his chin, “But you do have an opinion about my face?” 
“Goodnight, Oikawa.”
“Text me when you get home!”
“I don’t--”
“Ask Iwa-chan for it! Goodnight, (Y/N)-chan!”
The train doors shut, and Oikawa sent her a wink through the glass doors before it departed. The breeze ruffled (Y/N)’s hair. There she stood, staring at the empty tracks. Rooting through her bag, she yanked her phone out and dialed a number.
“Wakatoshi, I’ve been a dumb hoe.”
“(Y/N), I told you you shouldn’t--”
“I shouldn’t belittle myself, even as a joke, I know, I’m sorry, Wakatoshi.”
She could feel him shaking his head in disapproval, “Right. Now, what’s your issue?”
Fingers fiddling with the hem of the borrowed oversized Seijoh sweatshirt, (Y/N) pressed her phone between her ear and shoulder.
“I accidentally made friends.”
Ushijima sighed on the other end of the line, “(Y/N), when I said to keep to yourself, I did not mean you had to become a total recluse. You may not want to hear this from me, but meeting new friends is a good thing.”
(Y/N) slowly shook her head, “They’re pretty popular, though, and the last thing I wanted since coming here was to call attention to myself.”
“You may have gotten some unwanted attention at your old school, but maybe you can start over at Aoba Johsai. If we want the rewards of being loved, we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known.”
“...are you using a meme to give me advice?”
“A what?”
“A meme, Wakatoshi. It’s a joke passed all over the internet. Come on, there’s no way you haven’t seen them, even accidentally.”
“I am unfamiliar with the term. Anyway, I was quoting renowned columnist and cartoonist Tim Kreider. I was trying to make you feel better.”
Though he couldn’t see it, (Y/N) smiled warmly at how hard he was trying to help.
“You did a great job, Wakatoshi. Hey, I just got home, I’ll call you back and we’ll talk all about your day. How’s that?”
“Alright, get inside safely.”
Upon hanging up with Ushijima, (Y/N)’s hand stopped just short of putting her phone away. Perhaps against her better judgement, she reluctantly sent one more text.
[SENT] To: Iwaizumi Hajime-Kun [8:37 pm]
~~
- Admin Mango
119 notes · View notes
connorandersons-blog · 5 years ago
Text
Oh goodness I wrote the prompt and kept going. So uhhhh warning for smut! (I'm so sorry fksbsk)
@fortyfivefries
-----------
Their computers were glitching. It wasn't too uncommon but it was still incredibly frustrating. He had to actually submit a report into a computer, and now the high-tech computers they had were out of commission. 
So they had older models brought in. They were so much bulkier than the other types. They should still be fairly easy to use. 
He sat down in front of the computer and booted it up. Why he had to actually use a computer and not do it from his brain was beyond him. Police politics, ugh. 
Anyway, back to the matter at hand. The report. He started writing it up, easily doing so from his memory. The case was simple enough but it had ties to red ice, so they had asked Gavin to help out. 
He worked for a bit until Gavin interrupted his train of thought. 
"Hey, Tincan it's about lunch, so we're gonna head out. You wanna come?" Gavin calls. He still didn't have the necessary parts to eat, but he appreciated the offer nonetheless. 
He looked down at his half-written report and stood up, turning the computer off. He stands and grabs his jacket from the back of his chair. "I'd love to." 
Gavin nods then squints just slightly. "Did… did you save? Some of these older computers don't save automatically." Connor felt his heart stop. Everything saved for you now, he hadn't even thought of that. 
Now he had just hasted so much time. He should have known! If he wasn't so distracted by Gavin's request he would have thought to save, but he hadn't. "Shit," He grumbled, reaching up and tugging at his hair. 
Gavin chuckled and walked over. "That was by far the stupidest thing you've ever done." Connor sent him a glare and sat back down. There was no way he could take a break now. "Don't worry, I'll help." 
Gavin grabbed a chair and wheeled it over, plopping into with a sigh. Connor really wanted the help, and Gavin's company but humans needed to eat. 
"Detective-" he starts, but Gavin sends him a glare, "Gavin, you don't need to help me. It was my mistake. You should go enjoy lunch." He turned the computer back on, trying to stare at it instead of Gavin. 
"Eh, not that hungry anyway." He shrugged. 
"Do you know how to fix this? Is there a way to get it back?" He really fucking hoped there was. If so then they could go to lunch, if not? Well Connor was screwed and not in the fun way. 
Gavin snorted and shook his head. "For a computer with feelings you don't seem to know much about computers." That was fair but that didn't stop him from reaching over and cuffing him over the head. 
Gavin yelps, even though he didn't hit him that hard. "Fucking androids." Gavin muttered, but he didn't mean it maliciously. He hadn't meant it maliciously since before the revolution. 
The old computer finally loads up and they get back to work, this time with many more interruptions. "Get me a coffee, dipshit." Gavin mumbles. Connor rolls his eyes and stands. 
He really didn't mind getting him coffee, after all, he was helping him. He jogged over to the break room and quickly made the coffee the way he knew Gavin liked it. It wasn't the first time he'd helped him and Hank on a case. 
He walked back over and sat down, handing Gavin the cup. He looked at the screen and sighed, rolling his eyes. "Gavin, using bullet points isn't acceptable in an official report like this." 
He reached over and batted Gavin's hands away from the computer, trying to keep his blushing at bay. Gavin was definitely a tactile person, and Connor could be too, but hands were generally very… personal part of androids. They could interface with other androids this way, which was often used between couples or loved ones. 
"So pushy, if I didn't know better I'd say you just like touching me." Ah, yes. How could he ever forget that fact. Once Gavin's friend it seemed he'd flirt with the person, no matter his interest in them. 
Connor hummed and bumped him with his shoulder. "Maybe I do." Gavin snorted and rolled his eyes like that was an impossible concept. That was another thing about Gavin, no matter how confident he acted he was always so self-conscious. 
Most people wouldn't notice the way he tried to blend into the background when he didn't want to be seen. Or how he made self-deprecating jokes. He almost never doubted himself on a case, but Connor could tell he overthought most other things. 
"Let's get back to work." Gavin said, changing the subject. Connor sighed but nodded, looking at the computer. 
Gavin made remarks, not all pertaining to the case, as they worked. He did give good insights, but he was more distracting than anything else. That was completely Connor's fault, but he did his best to stay focused. 
He tapped a pen against his lips in thought, before holding it between his teeth as he used his hands to type. It wasn't unusual for him to bite, suck, or just hold things in his mouth as he worked. 
He didn't even realize he was doing it until Gavin reached over and pulled it out of his mouth. He blinked a few times and looked over. Gavin's face was flushed, and eyes wide but he wasn't looking at Connor. Actually, it seemed like he was trying to look anywhere but. 
"Gavin?" He asked, tilting his head just slightly. Gavin glanced at him, then quickly away, his face becoming even redder. 
"You were fucking sucking on this thing like a-" he cuts himself off, shaking his head. 
He tries to go over his memory of what he had been doing but it mostly comes up blank, his mind being too focused on the case and Gavin. "Like a what, Gavin?" 
Gavin sighs and drops the pen onto the desk. "Like a fucking dick. Or maybe a sucker, I don't know!" 
Connor's eyes widened and quickly looked at the pen. Had he been doing that? He hadn't meant to, but maybe he did. Oh goodness, he knew his face was turning blue. 
But… he quickly looked up at Gavin. He didn't even need to scan him to know his heart rate was higher. Gavin shifts in his seat and Connor's eyes slide down and… fuck. Huh. He was not really expecting that. 
"I… uh," he stutters out. 
Gavin quickly stands, "fuck." He practically runs to the bathroom before Connor can stop him. 
He had a few choices. He could go after Gavin, talk to him and maybe… help with his problem. Sit here and wait until he comes back and talk to him about it. Or, he could try to forget. Yeah, two out of the three options didn't sound as good as the first. 
He quickly stood and jogged over to the bathroom, not bothering to knock. He walked in, and saw only one stall occupied. "Gavin?" 
"Fuck off, Tincan." Gavin calls out. There's a thud which Connor assumes is Gavin banging his head on the stall. 
Connor walked over to the stall, hesitating for a second. "Gavin… I could—no—I want to help." He knew his voice didn't sound as confident as he wanted it to. 
There was a brief second of silence where Connor was sure Gavin would turn him down. Then the lock clicked open, and Connor took the invitation. 
The stall wasn't big so he didn't have too much room as he walked in, locking the door behind him. Gavin's eyes were wide, and his pupils were huge. 
He once again hesitated for only a second before reaching out and gently cupping Gavin's face. He knew he could just slide down to his knees, do it and be done. But he wanted this. He wanted Gavin. 
"Fucking hell." Gavin muttered before closing the very small distance between them. Connor makes a small, please sound at the back of his throat as they kiss. It was far from romantic, being in a bathroom and all, but that didn't make it any less enjoyable. 
It doesn't take long until Gavin is panting, and Connor pulls away to kiss and bite down his neck. "Fuck! Fucking-ah-fucking hell Connor." Gavin moans out, eyes fluttered closed. 
Connor grins and finally sinks to the floor. He unzips Gavin and pulls his pants and underwear down in one fluid motion. Gavin's eyes fly open and he looks down at Connor. 
Gavin runs his hands through Connor's hair as he licks him from base to the tip. He looks up through his eye lashes as he slowly takes him into his mouth. 
Gavin's hands tighten in his hair, trying to keep himself at least somewhat quite. The pulling makes Connor whine, but he doesn't pull off. He doesn't need to breathe and he doesn't have a gag reflex, benefits of being an android. 
He starts off slowly, holding Gavin's hips still against the wall. Of course, Gavin tries to squirm, but Connor keeps him still. He swirls his tongue around the head, smirking when Gavin's breath caught. 
"Fuck, Connor!" Gavin sighs, wanking on his hair, and Connor takes him completely in his mouth again. Part of him wants to draw this out, he wants to watch as Gavin comes undone. But, they had work to do. 
He gently massaged Gavin's thighs where he held them, making a pleased hum when Gavin sighs. "Fuck, Con, I'm close." 
Connor hums around him and speeds up his pace. Gavin whines and yanks on his hair. Connor takes the hint and takes him all the way, swallowing around him. That seems to do the trick as Gavin let's out a mix of a shout and whine, coming down his throat. 
Once Gavin is completely finished Connor leans back, and wipes at his mouth. He'd have to do a system clean, but he didn't mind. Gavin is still panting and leaning heavily on the wall as Connor stands. 
"Fucking hell, Connor. Where the fuck did you learn that?" Gavin mumbled, not even bothering to clean himself yet. 
Connor smiled and brushed a few strands of hair out of Gavin's face. "I just did what felt right." Gavin gave a small hum, then his eyes went wide. 
"Wait, fuck have you even been kissed before?" Gavin reaches out and gently holds his hand. 
Connor blinks a few times. "I have been kissed, but it didn't go anywhere." He had been kissed exactly three times, and one of them he'd rather not think about ever again. 
"Shit," Gavin cursed under his breath. "Sorry your first time, well first time blowjob, was in a bathroom with me."
Connor frowned and gently cupped his face again, leaning in to kiss him slowly. He pulls back, even though he doesn't want to. "I'm very glad it was with you." 
Gavin's eyes slowly open and he grins at Connor, pulling him into another kiss. 
They both freeze when the bathroom door opens, but thankfully the person just goes into a stall. They don't say anything as they stare at each other. 
Whoever it is doesn't take long, and is out of the bathroom quick. Connor sighs and Gavin chuckles, finally reaching for the toilet paper to clean himself up.
Connor tried to give him room, but the stall was quite small. "We should get back to work." He says, pulling them out of the stall once Gavin's pants are back on. 
"Yeah, yeah. Just don't suck on any more pens and we'll both live." Gavin said, reaching out to hold Connor's hand. 
"I make no promises."
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angelofrainfrogs · 4 years ago
Text
A Recollection
Fandoms: The Bartimaeus Trilogy 
Description: Upon finding a book about unexplained events in human history, Bartimaeus recalls one of the many times he and Faquarl were forced to work together towards a common goal.
Rating: K+
Genre: General/Humor
Read on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28322109 
Note: This fic is dedicated to rat man and was written for the 2020 Holiday Secret Santa in the Bartimaeus discord server. The request was to write something including Faquarl and as I was thinking of historical events to write about, the one included in this fic came to mind and wouldn't leave and, well... here's the result! Enjoy and Happy Holidays!
A Recollection
“So, Nat… any pressing tasks I need to take care of?” I asked, leaning on the corner of the boy’s desk and resting my chin on my palms, staring up at him with wide, imploring eyes. “Would you like a cup of tea? A shoulder massage, perhaps?”
A noncommittal grunt was the only response I got, Nathaniel’s eyes glued to the stack of papers in front of him.
“Maybe you’d like me to go fetch some fresh water from the Thames? I’m sure it only has a few hundred toxins that could kill you.”
Another grunt, this time accompanied with a vague hand gesture to go away. I sighed, annoyed.
“Or maybe, you’d like a kick in the—”
“Bartimaeus, will you shut up?!” Nathaniel snapped, finally acknowledging my existence for the first time that afternoon. “I don’t need anything right now; just go read a book or something and stop bothering me. I have a lot of paperwork to review about these recent Resistance attacks.”
“You know, you could always dismiss me if you have no need of me…,” I suggested, a hint of false hopefulness in my tone. I knew full well the boy would do no such thing, and the withering look he gave me proved as such.
“Ugh, just…” He paused, then pointed to a bookcase on the other side of his fairly large office. “I charge you to go read a book from that shelf over there.”
“Doesn’t work if I’m not in a pentacle,” I said smartly, but he merely rolled his eyes and went back to his work.
I sighed again, deciding to it not worth the effort of my waning essence to harass him anymore[1]. Instead, I walked to the other side of the room and looked at the decently-sized bookshelf, wondering what sort of texts a young member of the British government read in his nonexistent free time.
I pulled one out at random; the title read “Unexplained Phenomenon of the Americas” and had a grainy black and white picture of a forest with some unidentifiable, luminescent creature on the front cover. I opened it to a random page, curious to see what sort of things were in here that could easily be explained by magic. My eyes widened as they scanned the page.
“Unbelievable,” I murmured, reading the heading and date of the event. Instantly, my mind drifted back a few decades, remembering a time I’d been working with an all-too-familiar djinni…
***
“So… where exactly are we meant to be dropping this stuff off?” I asked, one beady vulture’s eye trained on my companion.
“We weren’t given a specific place; it’s up to us to make sure that whatever we do with this, it’s ‘untraceable.’” The other, slightly bulkier vulture[2] said, metaphorically rolling his black eyes. “Weren’t you listening to the instructions?”
“Eh… not really.” I attempted a shrug, a difficult gesture to do with wings, let alone ones that were currently being used to fly. “I was more interested in trying to figure out what in the world this stuff is…”
“It’s none of our concern, is it?” My cohort let out annoyed sigh. “Let’s just find a place to dump this and get back; the sooner we can be rid of this charge, the better. My essence is starting to ache.”
I hummed in affirmation and focused forward, scouring the ground for a perfect spot to release our mysterious packages.
As most would surely have guessed, we only appeared as vultures on the first plane. The packages we were carrying were a bit too bulky to conceal with magic without some complex maneuvers that, frankly, neither of us had the strength for.
Faquarl and I had been summoned together a few months ago, an unexpected surprise[3]. The magician was some shady man living in rural America during the 1870’s. He seemed a bit mad, honestly, but to our dismay had at least enough wits about him to perform a summons with all the correct seals to keep us from escaping our bonds. Thus, we were once again forced into servitude by the will of a human.
He had some sort of nasty hobby that I tried not to speculate about, but I never actually got to learn what it was[4]. Our main assignment was to constantly transfer mysterious packages to and from the man’s farmhouse in rural Kentucky. I hadn’t spent much time in the Americas and was curious to explore, but the constant travel was exhausting… not to mention the company I was forced to keep.
Faquarl and I had never gotten along at the best of times, but being the only two spirits around for miles and connected by the same magician forced us to spend much more time together than either of us would like.
“Can’t we just drop this and be done with it?” I asked, debating whether to just go ahead and let the mysterious package fall to the ground. I didn’t need Faquarl’s permission to do anything, of course, but our mutual charge meant it was best to be on at least somewhat of the same page[5].
“Just wait, Bartimaeus,” Faquarl snapped, and I could hear the snarl in his voice. I glared at him as best I could.
“I’m trying to suggest an easy solution, but you just don’t care what I think, do you?”
“No, not really.”
I gasped dramatically, affronted. “Well! Excuse me for trying to make our lives a little less difficult. You’ve always been so stubborn.”
“I’m stubborn?!” Faquarl barked a laugh. “Remember that time in Indonesia when you had to-”
“Hey, hey, we agreed never to bring that up again!”
“You agreed with yourself; I made no such promise.” The vulture’s face remained passive as stone, but I caught a glimpse of Faquarl’s snide grin on the 7th plane[6]. I grumbled something under my breath, and then a brilliant idea occurred to me. If Faquarl wouldn’t go along with my plan willingly, maybe there was a way to make him follow along unintentionally.
Still keeping partial focus on my wings to assure I stayed in flight, I skillfully reached into the sack hanging from my claws with a talon, took out a chunk of undistinguishable meat, and hurled it directly at the djinni beside me. It missed him by a mile[7], but the gesture had certainly been noticed.
“Oh, really? Now you’re going to throw a fit?” Again, Faquarl rolled his eyes on a higher plane. “How childish.”
“I’m not ‘throwing a fit,’” I retorted. “I’m trying to add some entertainment to this incredibly dull task.” I quickly grabbed another piece of meat and threw it, this time hitting Faquarl in the side. He squawked indignantly as I let out a gleeful laugh.
“Alright, two can play at this game!” he responded, and I managed to dodge as Faquarl lobbed a chunk of meat at me. It broke into two pieces as it fell to earth, and I jerked my beak towards them in a huff.
“No fair!” I exclaimed. “You can’t throw two at once!”
“I don’t recall there being any rules to this challenge.” I could hear the grin in his voice and suddenly a soft, wet sensation hit my right wing. I nearly lost my balance in the sky but managed to right myself just in time.
“Alright, that’s it!” I yelled, and thus the battle commenced.
I’d like to say it was a brilliant affair, full of wild tricks and subterfuge, but it was hard to do much when your only weapon was various chunks of mystery meat[8]. The fight lasted only a few minutes, stopping when we both realized that our sacks were empty. We glanced at the ground far below to see it littered with pinkish-grey dots. Some pieces had landed on and around a little house, outside of which a woman was currently standing with her husband and looking quite frazzled.
“Oh, now look what you’ve done…,” Faquarl groaned, surveying the damage. “Now we have to go clean all this up!”
“Do we?” I asked, and he trained a questioning beady eye upon me. “I mean, our charge was to dispose of the contents in the sacks, correct?”
“In an untraceable way, yes.”
“We’re miles away from our master; I doubt the humans would be able to trace this back to him. Besides-” Faquarl looked about to speak again, but I continued. “Have you been able to tell what this stuff actually is?”
“Well… no,” the djinni admitted reluctantly. I knew he always hated when I was right[9].
“Then do you really think mere humans will be able to distinguish it?”
“…Probably not.”
“Exactly!” I did a summersault in the air, one of the only flashy gestures I could make in my avian form. “So, technically, our charge has been complete.”
Faquarl remained silent for a few moments, desperately trying to think of how to prove me wrong. I did realize that my logic regarding the situation wasn’t rock-solid; I knew a particularly clever human could probably figure out the type of meat, and maybe enough investigation would eventually trace it back to the magician. Faquarl could easily bring these things up, but I knew he was just as tired as I was and presumably wanted go back to the Other Place equally as bad.
“…Fine,” he relented with a sigh. “We’ll go back and tell our master that our charge is complete. But if this comes back to bite us, you’re taking all the blame.”
I made an astonished noise as we simultaneously turned around and began flying back towards the magician’s house. “Now, now, you were a big part of that fight; you can’t go blaming me! I thought we were in an equal partnership here!”
“Only in your dreams are you in any way equivalent to me, Bartimaeus.” I heard the sneer in Faquarl’s voice and wished I’d saved one last piece of mystery meat for a surprise attack. As it was, I merely grumbled back something that I shall not be repeating here, then quickly sped up as my fellow djinni let out a screech of rage and dashed towards me.
A few days after we returned to our master’s house, we were dismissed. I bid Faquarl a not-so-friendly farewell and blissfully returned to the Other Place, not knowing when I’d see my unwilling compatriot again.
***
“What in the world are you smirking at over there?!” Nathaniel’s shrill voice cut violently into my reminiscing. I glanced at the boy to see him staring at me with a pinched expression on his face.
“Oh, just remembering the old days,” I said, sighing wistfully. “The days when I had masters who knew how to buy clothes that fit properly, and to wash their hair more than twice a year—you really ought to take a shower, though, Nat—and who—”
“Be silent, demon!” the boy hissed at me, and I placed a hand to my heart in mock horror.
“Goodness, someone’s in a bad mood today!”
“I’m trying to work and you’re over in the corner giggling and grinning like a maniac. If you can’t be silent, I’ll send you out on your rounds earlier than usual tonight.”
“Alright, alright,” I grumbled, not in the mood to go out into the dreary streets of London any sooner than was necessary. “For the next few hours, you won’t even know I’m here.”
“See to it that I don’t.”
I rolled my eyes as Nathaniel focused back on his papers. I closed the book in my hands, lingering over the cover for a few seconds before slipping it neatly back into its place on the shelf. Then, I flopped down on the rather uncomfortable couch and waited for night to fall, casting my mind back to my most recent encounter with Faquarl a few years prior and wondering what, if anything, the djinni was up to now.
***
[1] At the current moment, that is. I’d be back at it again by suppertime.[Return to text]
[2] Though he would never admit it, I knew the slightly more formidable appearance was an unnecessary but very deliberate attempt to ruffle my feathers. It didn’t work, of course.[Return to text]
[3] Yet surprisingly not unwelcome. Though we considered each other nemeses by this point in time, it had been so long since I’d seen a familiar face during a summons that it was a welcome relief to be around someone I knew, even if we did hate each other’s guts.[Return to text]
[4] I was quite happy about this, mind you; most humans are weird, but some are just plain depraved. I had a feeling this man fell squarely into the latter category.[Return to text]
[5] I don’t need permission from anyone to do as I please, but the threat of a magician’s crippling fire can be quite convincing at times.[Return to text]
[6] Though it was hard to tell exactly what expression his true form was wearing, what with all the writhing tentacles and other assorted bits.[Return to text]
[7] What can I say, I was out of practice. I hadn’t tried to physically fight Faquarl for decades, since the last time nearly ended with my ear being sliced off by a wayward kitchen knife.[Return to text]
[8] Although I did perform some particularly stellar acrobatics in midair in my attempts to dodge.[Return to text]
[9] I, however, rather enjoyed watching Faquarl fume when he was proven wrong.[Return to text]
Notes: The Kentucky meat shower was a real event that happened in on March 3, 1876. For a few minutes between the hours of 11 and 12 in the morning, what appeared to be chunks of red meat fell from the sky in a 100x50 yard (91x46 m) area near the settlement of Rankin in Bath County, Kentucky. There are several explanations as to how this occurred and what the "meat" was, the most popular being the vulture theory, in which a group of vultures regurgitated their meals; and the pieces fell to earth from a reasonable height. The exact type of meat was never identified, although various reports suggested it was beef, lamb, deer, bear, horse, or even human.
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emotionaldepravity · 5 years ago
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HCs of TFP arcee groaning a horse alt mode, and a male equestrian reader tacks up her horse mode with black English horse tack, and rides her horse alt mode liek a proper horse rider
Eh I hope you don’t mind that I just played around with the way she got the alt mode. It made this a bit more interesting for me. If the idea of experimenting on live and unwilling sentient beings is triggering, don’t read.
- Ever since Megatron decided to shut down Project Predacon, Shockwave had been working on a new devious project. He had been researching triple changer technology, and the only way he had been able to induce any promising results was combining organic material with CNA. 
-Though he considered carefully what sort of animals to use, he did not have access to many options where his lab was currently located. 
- With a horse ranch being the only source of animal DNA within about 100 miles of the lab, and Megatron refusing to let Shockwave have any aid to look for better samples, he used what was available.
-Even when it came time for testing, Megatron refused to let him use any Vehicons or Seekers due to just how small his army had become. This frustrated Shockwave and make him have to put his experiment on hold.
-By chance, Arcee had been notified about odd activities near some caves, Shockwave’s lab, and went to investigate. It didn’t take long for Shockwave to notice her sneaking around. Typically Arcee was careful when patrolling alone, but despite her speed, she just couldn’t overpower Shockwave when he caught her by surprise. Finally, he had the test subject he needed.
-Despite his curiosity of her reaction as he started the experiment, he had to keep her sedated for most of the altering. 
-When she woke up, she found her frame just a bit bulkier and having strange audial receivers on her helm as well as a tail.
-At first she was mortified at the modification. What sick things had Shockwave done to her? Of course, the rest of Team Prime was able to rescue her before she had a chance to ask him directly.
-After a lengthy check up from Ratchet, he determined that other than mods added there was nothing wrong with her. However, due to how Shockwave altered her circuits, removing the mods would be a lethal endeavor with how limited the technology Ratchet had access to. Luckily, her motorcycle alt mode was only a little longer which made her feel a little bit better about being stuck like this. It was during transforming back from being a motorcycle that she noticed a new protocol for transforming. From the little data that was taken the lab, it was decided that the alt mode was the form of a horse.
-Miko was quite interested in seeing Arcee in her new alt mode, but Arcee was a bit worried about using it. After making Miko promise that she wouldn’t bother Arcee about it and since you had some experience with riding, you offered to help Arcee if she ever wanted to test it out.
-You didn’t want to pressure her into using the alt mode so happily waited for her to come to you. Though it took almost a week before she did, she eventually pinged you to try it out.
-Her legs felt a bit shaky like a new born colt after the initial transformation. She did her best to get her balance and then took a chance at walking. 
-As her confidence grew, she learned to trot and finally to run. 
-With some patience and some practice on her own, she felt comfortable enough with moving to let you put your tack on her to ride. You were careful to make sure that Arcee was comfortable in the new contraption and adjusted the straps appropriately. 
-When you finally climbed up her back, you were quick to let Arcee know you were ready to go. She broke into a trot and off you went to the outstretched Nevada desert. You felt the wind blow through your hair and the landscape around you turn into a blur as she began to run. For the most part, you just held on to the reins to non verbally ask her to change directions.
- After riding around for a while, she admitted to you that it felt odd to have someone else try to lead her around, but at least for non-mission related exploring, she saw that it can be fun.
-After some intense testing, to Smokescreen and Bumblebee’s chagrin, she found that she was even faster than them at her top speed. 
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katatty · 6 years ago
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Hi! I was wondering whether you use any body presets or custom sliders? I'd love to have a bigger range of body types in TS2 but I'm not sure where to start.
Yo! I’ve only just started dipping my toes into custom bodytypes - it’s a little complicated in TS2 compared to later games, but can be done. I’m definitely not an expert though, perhaps simmers who use them more than me can weigh in?
In TS2 we have custom sliders for faces, but not bodies :(
For more body diversity beyond the default “fat/thin” binary, you have to download specific “bodyshape” clothing (and skins, if you want them to show up when they are nude).
Sophia Joque in my game, for example, uses the “Momma Lisa” bodytype. I had to download specific everyday/underwear/swimwear/pjs/formal/outerwear just for her in order to keep the bodytype consistent. The illusion is broken when she’s naked but eh, it’s not a dealbreaker for me and the custom skins really seem like too much hassle.
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It’s not all that popular, mainly because it does kind of bloat your download folder, but off the top of my head a few creators who make bodyshape stuff include @kaylynn-langerak, @simhow & @withlovefromsimtown. A lot of the meshes originate from insimenator.org - but some of the content is a little dated these days…
EDIT: also found these at MTS, if maxis outfits are your thing!
It’s kind of awkward to explain, but hopefully that helps! Right now I only use momma lisa, merpeople (for my fantasy game!) and the androgyny bodyshape for some of my NB sims, but I’d like to branch out more in future. Maybe make some of my gym bros a bit bulkier, haha.
And this is only half related, but you can also permanantly change sims height in SimPE, so I’ve read! I think the idea of this is pretty cool, also adds a neat bit of extra diversity.
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iamthegaysmurf · 5 years ago
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luckywantstoknow
replied to your
post
:
luckywantstoknow replied to your post: ...
I realize your original post wasn’t about the uniform, but I do think about it a lot. I personally always thought the S3 uniform looked odd, like a mishmash of pieces. You’re never going to fit a bulletproof vest under that (admittedly appreciated) body-hugging blouse, and you wouldn’t wear a carrier vest over it. Nonetheless, I’m no expert on uniforms of the world, so maybe there’s a police agency somewhere who would wear something like this. I honestly have too many thoughts about the uniform!
Actually, the S3 uniform is fairly similar to one of the variations my department had.  Generally speaking, we did the normal Class As like S1 -- god, I hated those goddamn polyester pants; I don’t blame Nicole/Kat one bit for wanting to get out of them -- but we also had a set where we wore the Class B tactical pants with the button-ups if we were doing a lot of field work or any kind of search and rescue, etc.  (Keep in mind, we were a very rural county, and besides the farmland that took up the majority of the area, there was also a State Park and part of a Federal Game Reserve within our jurisdiction, too.  So there were times when we’d have to spend an entire shift out in the woods for one reason or another.)
Having a uniform option like that available was extremely convenient, and it also strikes me as something that would be pretty realistic for an area like Purgatory, as well.  Not just Purgatory proper, but the rest of the county that surrounds it.  We see them out on deserted backroads, and wandering around in the woods at various times.  The tactical option (at least for the pants and boots) seems to be a pretty good fit for their location and the type of work they do.
As for the bulletproof vest?  Eh.  Nicole’s button-up is admittedly more form-fitting than strictly necessary, but even with that, she could still wear one of the lightweight kevlar vests (the kind that are usually white, rather than the bulkier black ones) under it.  (That certainly wouldn’t be my vest of choice, but it’s still functional.)  I mean her S3 shirt isn’t really any tighter than her S1 shirt, and she put a vest on under that, so...  <shrugs>    @luckywantstoknow
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melodiouswhite · 6 years ago
Text
Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde rewritten Ch. 11
11. Revelation When he opened the door to the sick room, Edward Hyde was sitting upright on his hospital cot, dressed in a night gown that was too big for him and supported by a mountain of pillows, looking a bit tired and waiting for him. “Good morning, Mr. Hyde���, he greeted him politely. Hyde smiled and replied: “Well, if it isn't my saviour! Good morning, Mr. Utterson!” I see, his smile has not grown any more pleasant just yet … okay, maybe a bit. At least for now. Must be, because he's tired. But the lawyer pushed these thoughts back and nonchalantly asked: “How are you feeling?”
Hyde shrugged lightly. “Eh, you know … shot.” His sense of humour definitely hasn't. “I reckon you do”, Utterson remarked drily. “But I guess, as long as you can make macabre jokes about the wound that almost cost you your life, you're not on the verge of death just yet.” Hyde snickered a little: “No, I suppose not.” “That man who shot you … did you recognise him? Could there be anyone, who holds a grudge against you?” Hyde raised an eyebrow in amusement and pointed out: “Mr. Utterson, I'm a terrible being. There are countless people who hold a grudge against me.” Good point. And oh, he's self-aware! Wait … why did he say 'being' instead of 'man' or 'person'? “… But to answer your question – Mr. Utterson, are you listening?!” “Ah! Sorry, please continue”, the lawyer apologised. The younger man rolled his eyes and continued: “But to answer your question, no, I have no idea who that was. Nor do I know why he did it. Usually, when someone assaults me, they tell me what their problem is.” “You get assaulted a lot?!” Hyde waved it off with a nonchalant laugh. “Wayyy too much! Either out of jealousy, revenge or simply because they don't like my face. Usually it blows up in theirs, but this was the first time someone pulled a gun on me.” He stopped laughing and his expression became so murderous that, for a moment, Utterson was seized by an irrational fear for his own life. “And I swear, once I get my hands on that cowardly bastard, he will go through a bloody world of hurt, I will–” “Do you really think he's worth being sentenced for murder?”, the lawyer asked him calmly. Thankfully that snapped the younger man out of his bloodlust. He took a deep breath and said calmly: “You're right. My apologies. Anyway, if I had met that bloke before, I would have recognised him, even in the dark of the night. But it was completely foreign to me.” “What happened exactly? I heard two voices and then the gunshot.” Hyde hesitated. For the first time he seemed insecure. “I … I don't remember … it's all a blur. I only recall … I … bumped into him … I don't even remember what he said … then he pulled that revolver on me – it went so fast, I hardly saw it! And … and …” The memory caused Hyde to hyperventilate and almost lapse into a panic attack, but the older man grabbed him and rubbed his arms soothingly, before it could get this far. “Calm down, Mr. Hyde. Take deep and slow breaths, everything is fine. You're safe here.” After a while his breathing slowed and he closed his eyes. “It was too dark to make out much of him”, Hyde mumbled quietly. “But I remember the frame and the voice. That was definitely a man.” Utterson enquired: “Can you describe him to me?” “A bit taller and bulkier than you. Two, three inches, maybe. Broad shoulders and short, wild hair, perhaps red or something of that shade, I'm not sure. Was wearing a long coat in a light colour, but no hat. A relatively deep voice.” “Thank you”, the lawyer said, “That was helpful information, considering how dark it was.” The other hummed in acknowledgement. “I'm still going to make him suffer”, Hyde muttered after a while. “That bullet wound hurts like …” “You better think about that, before you try to kill someone ever again”, Utterson interrupted him sharply. Bilious green eyes opened and blinked in confusion. “What?” “Now you know first hand what mortal fear feels like, what it is like when someone tries to kill you for no reason. Keep that in mind next time you lash out at someone for no reason. Because that's what Sir Carew felt like, when you almost beat him to death. He may have forgiven you, but he will be scarred and crippled by the experience for the rest of his life. I hope you understand that now.” He hadn't meant to be harsh, but for some reason his anger at the entire situation leaked into these few sentences. Hyde's eyes grew huge and he looked at the older man with a mixture of wonder and disbelief, very much like a child marvelling at something new. Then he threw his head back and laughed heartily. Utterson felt his left eye twitch. What the hell is so funny?! “You're a really interesting man, Mr. Utterson! So full of surprises!”, Hyde snickered. “No one has ever spoken to me like that before!” “Well, I suppose that I have the honour of being the first, then”, was the lawyer's dry comment. “Indeed”, the other replied with a strangely bitter smile. “Not even Jekyll has ever talked to me like that. Usually he just curses me and blames me for everything that goes wrong in his life.” Oh. That must be frustrating. So much for my suspicions. I can't decide, if I'm relieved or even more worried than before. “Alright”, Utterson sighed, “I'm sick of all this secrecy. I want real answers now. What is your relationship with Dr. Jekyll really?” The young man looked at him calmly. “Not what you think it is. However, you will neither like, nor believe my answer.” “Try me”, the lawyer challenged. Hyde's tone became uncharacteristically serious. “I will show you something, then. But I must warn you: it will be a terrifying and diabolic experience. Dr. Lanyon has beheld it himself, even though I warned him against it. His shock did not come from nowhere.” That sounds a lot like what Lanyon said. But still … I need to know. “I take that risk”, he decided. Hyde smirked and a hint of the familiar devilish glint returned to his shrill green eyes. “Well then, if you would give me that vial with the green liquid? I can't reach it and it's too painful to stretch.” Utterson took a look at said liquid, before giving it to Hyde. It bubbled strangely and was of the same venomous green as Hyde's eyes were. Then he handed it to the younger man, who took it with the same evil grin he usually wore. “You know, if I hadn't given my word to Lady Summers and if you hadn't saved my life, I'd never show you this. It's both mine and Jekyll's darkest secret”, he informed the older. “I feel privileged”, the lawyer retorted drily, while he mentally prepared for the worst. What is that chemical anyway? It can't be poison, if he's going to drink it himself. And what does he mean, it's his and Henry's darkest secret? Hyde downed the liquid in one gulp. Only a few second later his face twisted into a mask of pain, he dropped the vial, it shattered on the floor and he started to wind and scream in agony. Utterson jumped out of his chair and wanted to get help, but Hyde leapt forward and caught his wrist in a painfully tight grip, which resulted in a scream, that was probably more thanks to the wound than whatever he was going through. “Look … look!”, Hyde gasped, then broke into more screams and convulsions, as if he was having an epileptic seizure. But despite Hyde's warnings and mentally bracing himself for the worst, nothing could have prepared the lawyer for what came next. A change began in the younger man. His face became suddenly black and the features seemed to melt and alter. His limbs grew longer, his entire small and skinny frame became larger, his chalk white skin was replaced by skin that was a bit darker and rosier. The dark rims around Hyde's eyes vanished, wrinkles appeared here and there, the bone structure changed, his shoulder-long dark brown hair receded and turned blond. When the screams and convulsions finally subsided, the lawyer was looking in horror at the shape lying before him, gasping for breath, feeling around and blinking insecurely. It was so entirely unexpected, yet so very, oh so painfully familiar. “H-Henry?!”, he whispered. When Jekyll opened his eyes, at first everything was a blur, as usual. But then he heard a small voice whisper his name and turned to see his best friend stand next to the bed he was laying on. Utterson's blue eyes were wide with horror and disbelief. No … no, no, no, no! His eyes widened and he stretched out a hand. But upon that, his old friend's face darkened and he stood up. “Gabe …”, Jekyll begged, but the black-haired man had already stormed out of the room. Suddenly a new pain filled the doctor, coming from his heart. No … I can't lose him, I can't! Jekyll ignored the agonizing pain and slowly stood up. But he only managed a few steps, before his legs gave away and he fell onto his knees. Was it the dizziness that blurred his sight, or was that tears? “Gabriel!”, he wailed, but he knew it was too late. His dear friend wouldn't hear him, he wouldn't come back. It was over. He had lost him forever. Just like Lanyon. He was all alone now. “No … no …” The tears spilled, sobs escaped from his mouth and he began to cry shamelessly. He cried for the loss of his friend, for his own regrets, for what had become of Lanyon and what now might become of Utterson and, of course, he also cried because of the infernal pain from the gunshot wound in his guts. “Oh Jekyll~” He shuddered at the sound of the raspy voice in his head he had grown oh so familiar with. Then he could feel the devilish presence of Hyde surround him, while his evil half continued to whisper into his ears. “Oh my poor doctor. Look at how they all leave you. In the end, your beloved lawyer is no different from all the others, is he?” Jekyll shivered and his throat constricted, as he felt cold, ghostly hands caress his neck and shoulder. “How could you …”, he croaked, “He was never supposed to …” “Oh, but Jekyll! I just stuck to the deal I made with the Lady! That I made to save us both, may I add! She kept her part of it, so keeping ours was only fair. And obviously you wouldn't have. But guess what? I do not want to find out what that little witch does to deal breakers, and unlike you, I am a man of my word! Don't forget, we'd both be dead without her! And speaking of which – your dear friend saved our life last night, even though he hates me. The least he deserves is the truth, don't you agree? Not that it matters. He'll surely hate you now”, Hyde stated gleefully. The doctor was too tired, too broken, too much in pain to fight Hyde's influence, and had the other not been so severely weakened himself, he would have taken over their body already. He felt so dead on the inside, so dizzy and cold. Without Utterson, his life seemed to have lost its last bit of sense and worth. It was all too much and any moment he would– Suddenly he was snapped out of his daze, when two hands gripped his own and pried them away from his face. When he looked up with teary eyes, he recognised the blurry shape of – Can … can this be?! “Oh!”, Hyde's voice called out in surprise and his ghostly presence vanished. “And just what do you think you're doing out of bed?”, Utterson growled. “G-Gabe?!” “Who else?! You didn't seriously think that I would just run off after seeing that, did you?!” Now, that his sight cleared, he could see his friend clearly and noticed two figures standing behind him: Lady Summers in her black mourning dress and Lanyon in a blue morning coat, frowning down on the scene. The lawyer sighed: “Now back into bed with you, you idiot. How has that wound not reopened from all the moving around?” It was only now that Jekyll noticed something. “I … I can't get up”, he mumbled awkwardly. Lady Summers spoke up: “You should have thought of that, before you tried to run after your friend. He wasn't running away, he was just getting me, because he was worried. Also”, she turned to Lanyon, “Why are you here? You too are supposed to be in bed!” “I was just worried!”, Lanyon protested, “And …” “Papperlapapp!* No excuses! You lie down over there. Both of you stay in bed now and if any of you attempts to get up without my permission, I will bloody chain you to those beds!”, she threatened. The look in her ice blue eyes gave away just how dead serious she was. Both doctors gulped and Lanyon hurried to lie down on the bed next to Jekyll's own. Awkwardly the latter turned to Utterson. “Uhm … can you help me please?” Then he yelped in pain and surprise, when the black-haired man, instead of just supporting him, scooped him up. “Careful!”, Lady Summers and Lanyon cried in unison. “I'm trying, alright!”, the lawyer snapped in agitation, carried Jekyll over to the bed bridal style and lay him on it as gently as possible. Jekyll felt his face grow hot with a scarlet blush and mentally cursed himself for being unable to hold it back. “Hyde was much lighter than you”, Utterson noted and tugged him in. “I reckon he was”, the doctor grumbled, trying to ignore the jealousy bubbling in his chest. And to top it all off, Hyde started to snicker in his head. “Oh yes, his arms were really comfortable!”, his alter ego cackled from the back of his conscience. Hyde, shut the hell up! “You're so mean to me!”, Hyde huffed, but fell silent. “Although, my back is still aching and I have cramps”, Utterson continued, “I'm getting too old for this.” “It was quite a sight, though”, Lanyon spoke up from the other bed, “You with that little demon in your arms, turning up at the Lady's door and crying for help.” Jekyll chortled; he couldn't help it. Lanyon grinned, either at his reaction or his own “funny” joke, the blond wasn't sure. “Good to know that you two find that so funny”, Utterson stated, “I certainly did not find it funny that someone got shot and almost died on me!” The other two fell into awkward silence. “And I also don't find it funny …”, the lawyer continued, dropping his emotionless facade, “… that my best friends have lied to me all this time! Hyde told me that you knew, is that true?”, he barked at Lanyon. The other silently looked away, avoiding his eyes. So did Jekyll. Utterson threw his hands up in exasperation. “Perfect! Just perfect! Everyone here knew, except for me! That Lady Summers didn't tell me is forgiveable, she practices professional discretion …” “I would have told you”, Lady Summers piped up from behind, “But I wanted him to tell you himself and I knew you wouldn't believe it, if I told you.” The black-haired man ignored her and went on: “But that my two oldest and best friends have lied to and kept secrets from me all along! That goes too far! Do you have the faintest idea, just how important that information is to me, not only as your friend, but also as a lawyer? When were you planning to tell me, huh? Oh wait, let me guess: never?” “Same reason as Lady Summers”, Lanyon defended himself, “Also, I still can hardly believe it myself.” Jekyll felt anger bubble in his stomach. Of course you can't, you dogmatic – “And you, Dr. Jekyll?! Why the hell did you withhold that vital information?! What's your bloody excuse?!” “What was I supposed to say?!”, Jekyll snapped angrily, “That Hyde and I are one and the same person?!” “YES!!!”, Utterson, Lanyon and Lady Summers snapped back in unison, startling him. He wanted to disappear and get away from the three pairs of eyes glaring at him; the sky blue eyes of Mr. Utterson, the ice blue ones of Lady Summers and the mismatched grey-blue and amber ones of Dr. Lanyon. All three of them looking at him reproachfully. He bit his lower lip. My life is over, they all know, my reputation is ruined, I can never show my face anywhere again, my friends hate me, a foreign young noblewoman has revealed my secret and – “Now you're just being dramatic, Dr. Jekyll!”, Lady Summers interrupted his process of thought rudely and turned to leave. “You three settle this among yourselves. I'm a busy woman and need to tend to my duties. See you, gentlemen.” As soon as the door closed behind her, Utterson turned back to his friends. “Right”, he sighed frustratedly and sat down on the chair between their beds. “I'm sick of the lies and the secrecy. Have been for months. I want an explanation and I want it now. Especially from you, Jekyll. If you ever were my friend, you will tell me everything, and I mean everything, about that thing with you and Hyde!” Oh no … Utterson drew a deep breath, before he spoke. “So … just to make sure I got everything right. You wanted to separate your evil side from yourself.” The blond doctor lying on the bed to his right nodded. “Yes.” “And you invented a potion … chemical … formula, whatever it is, to do that. And tested it on yourself.” “Yes.” “But it didn't exactly have the expected results.” “No. Instead, an alter ego was created, a personification of all of my sins, desires and vices.” “And you named him Edward Hyde. Gave him papers, clothes of his own – because yours obviously don't fit – that flat in Soho and a bank account.” “Yes.” “And you made him your heir, just in case he would overpower your soul.” “Yes.” “Then you trampled a little girl, almost murdered a man, got into a fight with a lady and did god knows what – and don't you dare say 'that wasn't me, that was Hyde!'. And shortly after assaulting Sir Carew you were taking a walk in the park, when you suddenly turned into Hyde without taking the potion.” “… Yes.” “And that's where Lanyon comes in?” Jekyll nodded and Utterson turned to Lanyon. “You received a letter signed with Jekyll's name, that was actually from Hyde?” “I did. But I couldn't tell – it was the exact same handwriting.” “Interesting. And you thought that Jekyll had lost his mind?” “Of course I did! That letter didn't allow any other conclusion! I mean, what sane person would ask an estranged friend to break into their house, rummage through their things and gather up a set of chemicals?!” “I was desperate!”, Jekyll hissed, “That tends to make people sound insane!” “But you still followed the instructions of the letter?”, Utterson asked Lanyon. “Yes. It sounded serious enough to arouse my concern.” “And a few hours after you had arrived at home with the chemicals, Hyde showed up?” “Yes. He was wearing Jekyll's clothing, it was way too big for him. It would have been funny, had the boy not been so hysterical. And he had this ominous aura, but I suppose that's nothing new to you.” “No, it isn't. And then you let him in and gave him the chemicals?” “Yes. We had a short discussion – he wouldn't tell me, who he was and in retrospect, I can't blame him. At that time he was still being searched for, after all. Anyway, Hyde mixed the formula and asked me, if I would allow him to take it home without an explanation or if I'd take the risk and make him show me what it was for. Of course, despite his warning, I picked the latter.” Lanyon smiled ruefully and looked up to the ceiling. “I should have listened to him. The memory of the transformation is a trauma I will never be able to forget. If it wasn't for Lady Summers, I would have died from the shock, but even so, I'm still suffering.” Utterson turned back to Jekyll: “And as soon as you were you again, you confessed everything to Lanyon and went home, just like that.” “Yes.” “And that's why Lanyon wanted nothing to do with you anymore …” “'Wants nothing to do with you anymore'”, Lanyon corrected and threw a glare at Jekyll. Utterson ignored the animosity between his two friends for now and ended: “And that's why you isolated yourself from everyone and refused to see even me.” “… Yes.” “And apparently even Hyde himself is angry at you for some reason. And if you say 'yes' one more time”, he added, when Jekyll opened his mouth, “I will forget my bedside manner!” He took another deep breath to calm himself down, but his anger wanted to reveal itself and he was in no mood to keep up his professional mask. “And you two – both of you – kept something like that from me. And here I thought I was your friend! Last time I checked, friends trust each other with their secrets! Am I not trustworthy enough?! Well, I'm sorry, that I'm apparently not good enough for you to trust me!” “Gabe, please–“ “Shut up, Jekyll! I'm too angry to hear any of your pathetic lies and excuses!” The blond doctor whimpered and shrunk under his glare, and in any other situation, Utterson would have felt guilty, but right now, he was feeling way too upset and angry to care. “Gabriel, calm down”, Lanyon began gently and touched his arm in a pacifying manner, but the black-haired man tore himself away. “Calm down? Calm down?! You two have lied to me for weeks – months in Jekyll's case – and you ask me to calm down?! I have been calm for way too long, it's enough! You know what, I ought to leave the room for a bit, before I say things I might regret later.” He stood up and rushed out of the room. If Jekyll's heart hadn't been in shards already, it definitely was now. He bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut, but the sobs and tears found their way out anyway and soon resounded in the entire sick room – and to add insult to injury, Lanyon was still here and could hear him cry, which made the whole ordeal even more humiliating. He gasped, when suddenly a gentle hand began to caress his hair in a soothing manner. Its owner was sitting at the edge of his bed, stroking his head. “Shhh”, Lanyon whispered, when he wanted to question him, and dried his tears with a handkerchief. His grey-blue and amber eyes were full of sadness and disappointment. “You know”, he said sadly, “If you just had been honest about your feelings right from the start, all of this could have been avoided. If you just had told us the truth, we could – and would – have helped you, despite our differences. I thought you knew that. That's what friends are for, not just as a last resort, when you get into trouble. Remember that in the future.” The white-haired man stood up. “We'll continue this conversation later. I will go and talk to Utterson. You rest now.” At the door, Lanyon stopped and spoke to him one last time: “I'm not angry at you anymore, Jekyll. Nor do I hate you. Right now, I just pity you.” Then he left. For a few minutes Lady Summers had been furious. The client who'd been supposed to meet her had spontaneously cancelled his appointment, and she hated spontaneous cancellations. But as soon as her butler had announced Mr. Utterson, her fury had subsided and she had re-assumed her countenance as a therapist. Who cares about that twit anyway, Utterson is my priority now. When the lawyer stood in front of her, she didn't even need to read his mind – his face said it all. “Come”, she said and he immediately broke down in tears and cried into her lap. “That's right. Let it out”, she cooed, “Shhh …” After a few minutes of him crying relentlessly into her black dress, she noticed something and looked up. Wordlessly, she waved her new visitor over and he complied. “Mr. Utterson?”, she said softly and he looked up in tears. “I think, Dr. Lanyon wants to tell you something.” Before the black-haired man could say something or even notice his friend, someone crouched down next to him and took him into a tight embrace. “I'm sorry”, the other said regretfully, “We both are. We had no idea, what you were going through. We're sorry. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you. But I was scared, confused and shocked and I couldn't handle any of it myself. That's why I gave you that confidential letter. I'm sorry, that I told you to read it only after I'm gone. When I wrote it, I thought I wouldn't live much longer anyway. As for Jekyll, I don't know what he was thinking, I can only speak for myself. But I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I failed you. And I know that Jekyll is sorry too.” Lady Summers watched Utterson slowly calm down and finally reciprocate his friend's hug. “It's fine”, he mumbled quietly, “And I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have lashed out like that.” “Hey now. It's not your fault, my old friend. No one blames you, so stop blaming yourself.” Dr. Lanyon let go and grinned at his friend. “I must say, I'm in awe. I haven't seen you this sentimental since … actually, I don't think I have ever seen you this sentimental!” “Guess not”, the lawyer replied and dried his face with a handkerchief. “I'm sorry. How unbecoming of me.” “Nonsense!”, Lady Summers finally spoke up. “You're human. Humans break down from time to time. I've seen politicians and hardened war veterans burst into tears right in front of me. There is nothing wrong with crying.” She turned to the doctor: “Sit down for a while. Since you're here, we will have a chat.” “Can't you allow me to get dressed first?” She threw him an icy glare. “No. Because as soon as we're done here, you will go back to bed. And no back talk. You're still sick and I will not allow you to exhaust yourself, before I'm positive that you're perfectly healthy. You take such good care of me, so it's only natural that I return the favour, Dr. Lanyon.” She held back a smile, when she saw him blush. Utterson lifted an eyebrow and recovered his professional mask. But his eyes gave away, that he was snickering on the inside. Alone, he chose not to say anything about what he was observing. Lanyon huffed: “So what were we talking about again?” Utterson's face darkened: “About how Jekyll has been lying to us for several months.” “Oh yes. Uhm, Gabriel, you seem … uh, disproportionately upset about it, especially by your standards.” “Well, how did you react, when you found out?” Lanyon shrugged: “Well, to be honest, I was less concerned about the lying thing, than about the fact that one of my oldest friends was a wanted criminal. So, I punched him in the face, gave him a talking-to and kicked him out of my house. I'm not angry at him anymore, just disappointed at his behaviour and attitude. But you seem much more hurt than I was. I understand that you're hurt, because he didn't tell you what the problem was, but try to see it from his point of view. Lady Summers, I think you know that better than I do.” Both men looked at her expectantly, so she sat up in her rocking chair and cleared her throat, then began to explain: “Well, when he made the chemical, he didn't know that it would work the way it did. And once Edward Hyde existed, he couldn't just tell everyone about it, because – well, they're one and the same person. Being able to assume the guise of Edward Hyde gives him so many freedoms he could never have as Dr. Jekyll. You see, he is so self-repressive and has so high expectations towards himself, that he denies himself everything he enjoys, even the smallest things. Problem is that the dry life of study he leads as Dr. Jekyll is not one he's cut out for. You know that, don't you? That he was rather wild in his youth?” She could hear what they both were thinking: Now that she mentions it … “The Henry Jekyll everyone perceives is but a facade. A facade that suffocates him and sucks all life and happiness out of him, but he never takes it off, because he fears for his reputation. He is so hell-bent on not only being seen as a perfect gentleman, but being one as well, that he wants to get rid of everything that taints him. He doesn't accept his flaws as a part of him. He just sees them as a disease to get rid off, but doesn't realise that the human nature doesn't work like that. Our flaws are a part of who we are, they define us and make us human. There is no such thing as true purity.” “Are you saying”, Mr. Utterson asked, “That Edward Hyde is more Henry Jekyll than Henry Jekyll himself is?” She swayed her head from side to side. “Mhh, yes and no. Mr. Hyde embodies all of Dr. Jekyll's flaws and desires, all of the traits that he hates about himself. Whatever stays hidden in the doctor comes out in his alter ego. Hyde is cruel, because deep down all humans are, and in the wrong situation, that cruelty reveals its ugly face. You can tell what Jekyll wants deep down, by looking at Hyde. However, Hyde's mind is very warped as a consequence of what he actually is and all of his darker traits are more intense than they would be in a normal person. To say that he's mentally unstable is an understatement. That's what happens when you reject a part of your personality, when your soul is violently torn apart. Dr. Jekyll wants to be a better man, but all he does is destroy himself. Suppressing and rejecting your feelings, wishes and desires isn't healthy – it can have disastrous consequences on your psyche.” These words reminded Utterson of what Hyde had told him the night before: “… But you need to stop deluding yourself. You're acting just like Jekyll. It's not healthy.” So this is what he meant … Then suddenly something occurred to him: he was fond of Henry Jekyll, but he disliked Edward Hyde. But if Hyde was a part of Jekyll, what did that say about his, Utterson's, feelings for the latter? Lady Summers noticed his affliction. “You're conflicted.” It wasn't a question. Utterson sighed. He really didn't want to discuss this in front of Lanyon, but since he just had found out about the darkest secret of the two doctors, maybe he could find a work-around. “It's just … Jekyll is my friend, even though I'm currently angry at him, but I don't like Hyde, even though I see him with different eyes since last night. But since I now know that Hyde is a part of Jekyll … what does that say about my friendship with Jekyll?” “Friendship?”, Lanyon repeated doubtfully. The lawyer questioned: “Why that tone?” The white-haired man frowned and took his pince-nez off to clean it on his morning coat. “There is no need to beat around the bush. I already know, what you really feel for him.” Utterson paled and threw a glare at Lady Summers, who raised her hands in defence. “I didn't tell him!”, the Prussian protested, “You know all too well, that I would never do that!” “She really didn't”, the doctor came to her aid, “It wasn't necessary anyway. I've noticed it a long time ago. You have a certain look in your eyes, when you think of him. I can't describe it, but I know what it is. I'm not blind, Utterson, so stop pretending. You know Jekyll's and my darkest secret, so the least you can do is be truthful to us and yourself.” Lady Summers grinned in self-satisfaction, prompting the lawyer to throw her another glare. There is no need to be smug about it! Oh, but I think there is!, she answered telepathically, still grinning. He groaned, turning back to Lanyon: “You must be disgusted.” But the other shook his head and put his pince-nez back on. “I'm not that hypocritical. I once felt the same for him – thankfully that's long over – so I won't judge you for feelings you can't help. I have come to terms with it, so you can talk about it freely in front of the Lady and me.” Utterson wanted to cry. He gave his friend a hug instead. “You're such a good friend, do you know that?” Lanyon chuckled: “No, I'm not. But thank you.” Jekyll couldn't bear lying around in the sickroom all by himself, while Utterson and Lanyon were doing God knew what (probably talking to Lady Summers). He wanted to justify himself, wanted to explain, why he did what he did. And he wanted to do it now. Maybe he would never have another chance again. He remembered all too well how Lanyon, after witnessing his transformation, had informed him that he never wanted to see him again. Surely Utterson thought the same now. But he wanted to at least be heard, before the people he held most dear both turned their backs on him forever. But where were they now? They had to be here in the house, since Lanyon was sick and Utterson's messy clothing was being cleaned. He remembered that Lady Summers received her clients in her greenhouse and that both his friends were clients of hers. So he would look there first. Slowly and carefully, he rose from his cot and stood up. His legs were wobbly and he seriously doubted that he would make it all the way to the greenhouse, when his eyes caught sight of something. It was a walking cane – probably made of Ceylon ebony – beautifully adorned with a golden, bejewelled handle. He spontaneously guessed that it belonged to Lady Summers, whom he knew to be immensely rich. A walking aid and another excuse to go there, how convenient! Of course the cane was too short for him, the Lady couldn't be any taller than Hyde, but it was stable and did its purpose. Carefully and quietly as possible he crept down the hallways, until he could hear faint voices talking and smell the scent of exotic plants and he knew he was there. Slowly he sneaked up to the door and listened in on the conversation. He knew it was wrong, that he shouldn't do this, but maybe– Right now, Lanyon was speaking: “… So let's start again. You were questioning your feelings for Jekyll.” It was Utterson's voice that answered: “Yes, that's right.” Oh no … “What I meant to say is: I don't know what I'm feeling for him right now. Henry is very dear to me, always was and always will be, even though I'm angry at him right now. I …” Jekyll could hear him hesitate, which made his heart clench. “… Right up to this morning, I could safely say that I loved him.” He … he loved me? All this time and I never knew? How could I not notice?! God and all this time I thought, that there was no way he could ever – oh, if only I had told him … so that's why he got so uncharacteristically emotional over … oh god, Gabriel … “But I dislike Edward Hyde, even though I see him with different eyes after last night. So how can I, now that I know that they're the same person, still say that I love Henry Jekyll? If I don't love Hyde, who is a part of Jekyll, then I don't really love Henry, right? Doesn't love mean that you take someone with all their flaws no matter how dark they may be? Does that make me shallow?” He slid down the wall, clenched his chest and pressed a hand to his mouth to prevent any treacherous sounds from breaking out. What is that … breaking glass? Oh wait no, that's my heart shattering into pieces yet again! Dammit … if only I hadn't … now it's all too late. He forced himself to pay attention to the conversation again and heard the Lady answer: “No. The fact that you worry about this proves that you're not shallow. In fact, I'm glad that you're asking yourself that question. Because if you didn't, if you just decided that you love Jekyll but hate Hyde, or even hate both of them, without considering that they're one and the same person - that would make you superficial indeed.” “Oh, so I'm not that terrible a person. That's a relief.” Now Lanyon spoke up again: “You're not terrible at all, Utterson, what the heck! But what are you going to do now, with that question in the room?” Utterson seemed to consider, then he said: “I want to be able to say that I love him again.” Jekyll felt a flicker of hope in his chest. Does he really mean that? “But in order to properly love Henry Jekyll, I have to love Edward Hyde as well.” His hope was crushed immediately. Loving Edward Hyde? That was never going to happen, he knew that. Utterson would never truly love him. Once again he cursed Hyde's existence that ruined everything for him. Why? This is not fair! Why can't he just love me and leave Hyde out of this? “Whoa, what the hell is going on here?”, Hyde piped up. Apparently he had woken up from his one-hour-hibernation. Damn. Lady Summers spoke up: “Well, you shouldn't force yourself to love him.” “Of course not.” “Do you want to love him?”, Lanyon asked. It sounded doubtful and rightfully so. “I'm not sure. Right now, I'd tend towards no”, Utterson confessed. “But after what I've witnessed last night, I do want to know him better.” “What is he talking about? Jekyll–“ “Well, you always have been a curious individual. So you want to give it a try then? This is going to be interesting – stop laughing, Dr. Lanyon!”, the Lady snapped, when the man began to giggle. “I'm sorry. But Utterson and Hyde … as lov- pfff, oh god, I can't! This is …” Then he broke into full on laughter. And then Hyde's incredulous voice: “Wait … is he saying–?!” Jekyll withheld an annoyed groan, when his alter ego joined in Lanyon's laughter with his own evil cackle. Utterson's voice was a small aid in blocking out the evil voice in his head. “I can't say that I love Jekyll without loving Hyde as well. So yes, I do want to try this, unlikely as it may be. After all, so many unlikely things have happened lately.” “That's the spirit. It will be for everyone's good, especially Dr. Jekyll's. And speaking of him – I KNOW, THAT YOU'RE THERE! STOP HIDING AND FACE US LIKE A MAN!”, she suddenly barked, startling everyone, especially Jekyll himself, who froze in terror. When did she notice, that – “Just go! Before she gets even angrier!”, Hyde cried and for once he found himself agreeing with his other half. Slowly and a bit insecurely, he rose to his feet, leaning on the cane and tumbled into the glass room. Everyone was, unsurprisingly, glaring at him. “And just what exactly are you doing out of bed again?!”, Lanyon growled. “What are you thinking, walking around my house in that state?”, the Lady demanded to know. “How much of our conversation did you hear?!”, Utterson asked with obvious dread. Before Jekyll could utter an answer, Lady Summers rose from her rocking chair. “Sit down”, she ordered in exasperation, “You can have my chair, it's more comfortable. I'm surprised that you can stand and walk around at all in that state.” With great care, so as to not reopen the wound, he sat down in the rocking chair (while the Lady held it in place for him). “Uhm”, he mumbled awkwardly and held out the cane, “I came to bring you this.” The Lady looked slightly surprised. “My sword cane! So that's where it was! I have been searching it for weeks and it was in the sickroom the entire time? As a reward for finding it, I will overlook that this was just a sad excuse to come here. But next time you want something, just ring for one of my servants. It was my fault anyway – what was I thinking, leaving you unsupervised.” “I'm sorry”, Jekyll mumbled in shame and covered himself with the blanket that was hanging from the back rest of the chair. “It's forgiven. Now, would you do us the courtesy of answering Mr. Utterson's question?” Everything he could have said was lost in stuttering and intense blushing, much to Lanyon's glee. Impatiently, the noblewoman waved her hand. “Thank you, that's enough. We don't need to hear more. That reaction says it all. Do you want some tea? If I remember correctly, Earl Grey is your favourite.” Jekyll couldn't help but marvel at the nonchalance she changed subjects with. She poured him a cup, added a spoonful of sugar and a tad of milk. Wait, how does she know that I prefer my tea like – eh, never mind. “You want to justify your actions”, she said, while he was nipping at his tea. “But they are hard to justify. Why don't you try to explain your motives instead?” “You already know”, Jekyll stated. “I do. But your friends don't. And they deserve to know more than anyone else.” Looking at his tea cup Jekyll noticed, that it was almost empty. Damn it. He drank the rest, before he turned to his oldest friends: “Maybe you remember, that I was … uhm, rather decadent in my youth?” “Of course we do”, Utterson confirmed. Lanyon chuckled: “Do you recall that one time we got absolutely plastered on a Sunday evening and you were still drunk the next morning? Or when the fairest girl in town tried to kiss you and you pushed her into the nearby pond?” “That was an accident!”, Jekyll protested. The Lady chuckled: “As amusing as this is, we digress.” And so Jekyll went into detail about his revulsion towards his flaws and how he had come to his conclusion, that the human nature was not one but two, at least as far as he knew (at that theory, the Lady shook her head in disagreement, but said nothing). But as he was about to finish, Utterson interrupted him: “That is interesting, but still doesn't explain your true motives.” “…” Utterson frowned: “Well? We're waiting.” “I … I thought that … if I could rid myself of my darker self … that I would be content. I thought that if I could separate my evil self, that my life wouldn't feel so empty anymore. That I would be pure and that abstinence wouldn't be so torturous for me. I thought that, if we became separate identities, I could lead a good life and walk that path firmly and securely without risking shame and disgrace, while my evil twin could go on his way, free from all my expectations and pangs of conscience. It would be that simple, I thought. But at the same time …” It was hard for him to continue, to admit his more ulterior motives, but he felt so bitter right now and what more did he have to lose? How could it get any worse than it already was? “I wanted to be free. Free to do what I wanted, but couldn't, because it would have ruined my reputation. I came so far in science and yet I was just so discontent with my life. Maybe I wanted my life back and be young again, alive and carefree, do what I enjoy and not be ashamed of it. Maybe I was tired of faking smiles and laughs, while I was feeling dead and hollow on the inside, sick of pretending that everything is fine! Maybe I wanted to feel something other than perpetual depression from not living up to the goals I had set for myself! Joy, excitement, grief, anger, anything!” He was talking himself into a rage, he wanted to be heard, to be understood, to finally let out all his bitterness without being judged for it. “But it didn't work, it did not work! Yes, I did manage to split my evil away from me, but even though Edward Hyde was fully evil, I was none the better a person, I was still the same old Henry Jekyll! I'm still so bloody unhappy with my life, but every time I become Edward Hyde, my cares all disappear and it feels so good, it feels so bloody good and I can't get enough of it, I … I …” “And here we go again: waterworks in three … two … one …”, Hyde commented drily, then Jekyll began to bawl. Lady Summers handed him a handkerchief out of pity. He nodded at her gratefully and continued: “Maybe, if I hadn't approached the deed with such ulterior motives … if my goals had been more noble, maybe then my alter ego wouldn't be –“ “You're wrong, Doctor”, the Prussian interrupted him. Wrong? Wrong?! What did this young lady know about science and– She chuckled: “I'm flattered that you think me young, but as much as I would love to confirm it, you're wrong there too – I turned fifty on the 15th October.” She is … only a few months younger than I?! Jekyll looked at her with huge eyes. “You are fifty?! But … but … no way!” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Utterson and Lanyon grin gleefully. “She is, trust me”, Utterson chuckled, “As her lawyer, I have her documents and papers – she was born on the 15th October 1835 in Potsdam, Prussia.” Jekyll shot her a glare. “Tell me what your secret is!”, he demanded. She smiled and shook her head. “I'm sorry, but I have to refuse.” “Why?!” “Nobility has their secrets. Although, some day I might be going to consider telling you this one.” “But it's not fair!” Everyone laughed, when he began to sulk. He couldn't help his childish huffiness in this regard. Nor the immense envy he suddenly felt at how youthful and lively this strange widowed Lady from Prussia seemed, opposite to his own weariness. If she noticed – and she clearly did – she didn't mention it, choosing to return to the earlier topic instead. “Glad that I could lighten up the mood, but to answer your question of how I can tell that you're wrong … well, I'm going to state the obvious here: you played God. And that means something coming from me, because I'm not a particularly religious person. You tempered with something that should never be tempered with in any way. And that is the human soul. You're also wrong with your assumption, that the human nature is not one, but two. It's far more complicated than that, and you can trust me on this, because no one knows more about the human mind than I do. But I see that you're getting tired, we should get you and Dr. Lanyon back to the sickroom”, she suddenly changed the topic – again. Jekyll blinked. Him and Lanyon? “That's right”, Lady Summers confirmed, “You both will go to bed and rest now, just as I promised – and you will stay there for weeks. You're wounded and your friend is still sick.” Lanyon blinked: “What do you mean, I'm fine! Just exhausted from last night!” But she just took one of her gloves off and felt the temperature on Lanyon's forehead. “Oh no! Is that a fever I feel? You need bed rest immediately!” “Don't treat me like a child!”, he snapped. “Right now you're as fragile as one, so try to bloody stop me!”, she snapped back. “I'm siding with Lady Summers”, Utterson finally spoke up again, “Go to bed, Lanyon. You need the rest.” "You back-stabbing weasel!", cried Lanyon angrily. Before Utterson could make a retort, Lady Summers ended the dispute with her typical firmness. “Go to bed. Das ist ein Befehl.”** The imperious, very Prussian tone of her voice left no doubt that she was serious. Both Lanyon and Jekyll gulped and Lanyon muttered something the lines of “Yes, Milady”. She rolled her eyes and rang for her servants, who fetched a litter and carefully carried Jekyll back to the sickroom, while she took Lanyon by the arm and lead him there, Utterson following them. Once there and with the two patients in bed, Utterson returned to his previous seat on the chair between them. Lady Summers turned to them and said: “I will leave you gentlemen alone now, since I have work to do. And you two-” she pointed first at Jekyll, then at Lanyon, “-will not do anything stupid, or I will make good on my promise of chaining you to those beds. Marie and Kasim will bring you lunch at one. And this one is for Mr. Hyde, whom you should let out, before they come to bring the food: don't be rude to my nurse and don't openly stare at her chest. Ever. She's Austrian and will not take nonsense from anyone, not even a patient.” Jekyll heard Hyde swallow inside his head and informed her: “Duly noted, Milady.” She nodded: “Good. See you later, gentlemen.” Then she left, muttering things in German under her breath Utterson stared at Jekyll. It was still hard for him to wrap his mind about the fact that Jekyll and Hyde … Ugh … I'm giving up. Jekyll and Hyde are the same person, there is no point in pondering on that any further. “Soooo …”, he started awkwardly, “How will you transform back to Hyde? I don't assume you have any more of that … whatever it is.” “It won't be necessary”, Jekyll informed him tiredly, “I only need it to turn back into myself. In the recent months, transformations have been happening on their own accord. If I grow too tired or let my guard down too much, he comes out. He doesn't even need to try to.” “It will be one o'clock soon”, the lawyer informed him, after checking his pocket watch. The blond nodded and closed his eyes. But only a few seconds later, they flew open again, he gasped for air and began to convulse, first groaning, then screaming in pain. The black-haired man instinctively grabbed Jekyll's hand. That was all he could do. Sit there helplessly, ramble comforting words and hold his friend's – his love's – hand, while he was winding in agony and transforming into someone else. Oh my god, this is horrible, I can't look!, he thought and squeezed his eyes shut. Hearing Jekyll scream was terrible enough, even worse than with Hyde, he couldn't bear to see him writhe in pain too. The other was clutching his hand so tightly, that Utterson felt as if his finger bones were being crushed. After a while, he sensed the first changes. He heard Jekyll's usually gentle and smooth voice change into the high, raspy one of Hyde. He felt the large, firm and white hand, that was gripping his own, turn lean, sinewy and deathly pale, could feel the slender, well-groomed fingers of Henry Jekyll morph into the long, spidery digits of his alter ego. Eventually, the screams turned into low groans, then into laboured breathing. “You can open your eyes now”, Hyde's voice finally spoke and Utterson opened his eyes to find the small, young man lying on the bed in front of him, looking as tired as he had before turning into Jekyll. “Interesting, how you care about Jekyll, no matter how angry you are at him”, the brunet noted, then noticed something and lifted a brow. “Why are you holding my hand?”, he inquired. The lawyer blushed. “I can't see people suffer and since there was nothing else I could do … uhm, speaking of which, could you please let go? Or at least loosen your grip a bit?” Hyde blinked and let go. “Oh. My apologies. I hope I didn't break any fingers?” Utterson flexed them. “I don't think so.” “Good.” Lanyon stood from his bed. “I'm going back to the guest room”, he informed the lawyer, when he wanted to object, “Tell Lady Summers that I'm there. I don't wish to stay here any longer.” Utterson knew fairly well, what his friend meant. And it was obvious that Hyde did so too, because a shadow ran over his face, before he shrugged coolly, which didn't escape the lawyer. So it does bother him, when people are repulsed by his very presence … “Stop right there!”, Hyde suddenly growled. Utterson blinked in confusion. “I wasn't doing anything.” “I can't read minds like the Lady can, but I can tell that you were about to pity me. I saw it in your eyes. Listen, Mr. Utterson, I'm used to everyone being uncomfortable around me, so there is no need for you to feel bad about it.” “That doesn't make anything better”, the lawyer retorted. He leaned back in his chair and sighed in frustration: “Now, that I know who you really are … ugh, this is far over my head.” “You're still taking it a lot better than Lanyon did, though”, Hyde noted. “Maybe I'm also a bit relieved”, the lawyer couldn't help but admit. The younger man lifted an eyebrow in interest. “Oh? Why is that? Do enlighten me!” Might as well tell him … he probably won't be surprised. After what we said to each other last night, before- “I had the wildest speculations on what exactly the exact nature of your relationship to Jekyll was. I can't help but be relieved to see that they're false.” “You thought I was blackmailing him, didn't you?” “Among other things.” “Be more specific. I hate it when people are vague.” The older man blushed in embarrassment. He didn't want to admit to his insane suspicions in detail and he feared that the smaller man might be offended. “Well?”, Hyde said after a while, impatience clear in his voice. “Go on! Don't be bashful about it!” “To be quite honest with you … I thought that you were – or used to be – physically intimate with him and that you were threatening to expose him, should he not do as you wished. And that you were hurting him in the worst ways.” The other seemed completely unimpressed. Furthermore, after a few seconds, he chuckled: “I can see, where that suspicion is coming from.” His laugh was completely mirthless, but he didn't seem to be surprised or offended at all. The older man was ashamed of himself and mumbled an apology. Hyde giggled, this time in amusement: “You're actually ashamed of it, how adorable! But let me tell you something: Lady Summers told me, that, before she saw me and read my mind for the first time, she actually suspected that I might be Jekyll's bastard son!” Utterson silently admitted to himself, that this thought had occurred to him as well. Hyde snorted: “Don't see, why anyone would think that – I mean, Jekyll and I look literally nothing alike! There is not a single feature we share!” “But there is”, the lawyer contradicted. The other looked at him, as if he had just grown a second head. “You're joking.” “I'm not.” The young man scoffed: “Is there? What feature do we have in common then, eh?” Utterson pointed at his chin. “Your lower jar and chin have the same structure. And the curve of your neck is the same as well.” Hyde stared at him for what seemed like minutes, much like a mesmerised cat. Then he laughed; but for the first time since the lawyer knew him, it actually sounded half-way pleasant. “You actually noticed that! Not even Jekyll and I did! Oh, Mr. Utterson, you really amuse me!” The black-haired lawyer frowned slightly. “I can't decide, if I should be flattered or offended.” “Oh, be flattered!”, Hyde giggled, “Now I can see, why Jekyll is so fond of you!” He stopped giggling and looked at him strangely. “When he isn't busy with work, monologuing, making up excuses or wallowing in self-pity, he thinks about you. And because I'm in his head, when he is in control, I have the dubious honour of having to listen to his every thought. It's so annoying.” Utterson couldn't help but smile. Hearing that Henry felt this way for him, made him feel happier than was appropriate. “Then I hope, that your annoyance won't stop the two of us from getting along well.” The wounded man smirked lopsidedly and the devilish glint was back in his eyes again. “I know what you're getting at, Mr. Utterson. Jekyll – and therefore I too – overheard your talk with the Lady and Lanyon and let me tell you, it's not going to happen. As surprised as I am, that you actually want to put effort into this, I will never truly be fond of you. I will tolerate you, because you entertain me. Nothing more.” Utterson wasn't surprised by that statement – he had expected nothing less from the young man, who was currently lying on a hospital bed, grinning like he was plotting his imminent demise. But he also remembered, how that very man had clung to him the night before, bleeding, sobbing and crying in mortal fear, yet marvelling at the lawyer's display of compassion at the same time. He grinned back, something he almost never did, but his fighting spirit was awakened. “I accept the challenge, Mr. Hyde.” 
(A/N: This chapter is angsty again. I’m not sorry.
*Papperlapapp - German for 'Balderdash' **Das ist ein Befehl - German for 'This is an order' Utterson learns the truth and is upset, Jekyll is being a whiny bitch, Lanyon is just done, Lady Summers is even more done and Hyde finds the situation really comical. Utterson takes the news better than Lanyon, but he's still super upset, that he's been lied to by his best friends. Lanyon is still suffering from the shock (and might be having a brain fever). Jekyll doesn't have Hyde's gunshot wound, since he wasn't the one who got shot, obviously, but he's still affected. Lady Summers is everyone's nanny and everyone is done with Jekyll's self-pitying. Hyde doesn't quite get what's going on, but he thinks it's funny anyway.)
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nitewrighter · 6 years ago
Text
Dragonback Pt. 2
Dragonback Part 1
The quest to get Rei’s dragon back (Finally!) continues! Now with lots of Shimada Lore Dumping!!!
---
A draft blew into the hangar of the Talon Croatia base. Reaper watched as a small crew readied the Vaquita, Talon’s small, long-range stealth flight unit. The hems of Reaper’s long coat rippled in the breeze. He glanced over at Andrea-- she was just as tall as Maximilien, and even bulkier than him between her SEP serum, tactical gear, and Maximilien’s own sleek suit. He didn’t want to think about how old she was, how old she was really. Moira said the artificial aging process within the amnio tube still took several years, and was slowed even then by the brainwashing process, and she was aged up even older than Aedan. It made his gut wrench. A strike team of four was checking their weapons before heading into the Vaquita themselves, their heads and identies all completely concealed by Talon helmets. Pretty standard six person mission. 
“I hope you understand this tracker represents no small investment of time and money,” said Maximilien as Andrea turned the tracker over in her hands.
“So if I’m not her controller on this mission...” said Reaper, putting a hand on his hip, “Who is?”
“That would be me,” a French-accented voice spoke behind him and Reaper turned around to see a pale girl with champagne blonde bobbed hair donning what appeared to be a Talon tac-gear variation on a chauffeur’s uniform. Her temples were pocked with neuroprosthetics.
“Oh... you,” said Reaper, maybe 75% remembering her, “...Fossie?”
“Faustine,” Faustine and Maximilien said at the same time, 
“You’re sending your daughter to watch my daughter,” said Reaper flatly.
“I’m sending my protégé to watch your clone, yes,” said Maximilien. He gave a slight pat to Reaper’s shoulder, “Knight and Bishop. Just like us, eh?”
“I don’t play chess,” said Reaper, folding his arms. 
“I could give you a few lessons sometime,” said Faustine with a smile, tugging at her black driving gloves and smiling, she gave a glance over to Andrea, “Knight and Bishop are very effective in the endgame, especially for taking a King.”
Reaper scoffed, “I know enough about chess to know that kid is not a King,” he muttered.
“Certainly not,” said Faustine, “Just a pawn who has no business being on that side of the board.”
Reaper just grunted.
The nanite tracker in Andrea’s hands started beeping suddenly. Andrea turned it on and it projected a small hologram of a globe, with a little red dot blinking in northern Japan.
“Speaking of no business on that side of the board...” said Maximilien, “You have a long flight ahead of you.”
“And you have much work as well. Au revoir, Papa, we’ll see you when the mission’s over,” Faustine kissed Maximilien on the cheek and Maximilien gave Faustine an affectionate touch under the chin. Andrea looked at Reaper, stood at attention and saluted before boarding the Vaquita.
---
Shirakami-Sanchi forest was quiet. Then again, growing up between Oasis and lab facilities with heavy amounts of  internal security that would fence him out of whole sections, Aedan decided he probably had not walked in enough forests to determine what was a ‘quiet’ forest. There was sound--the wind rifling through leaves, the odd bird call cutting through the air---but there was an eerie tranquility to this place… or it was probably just eerie to him. He watched the Shimadas as they easily walked through the forest paths. Despite a red-eye flight on a drop ship, they kept a pretty mean hiking pace. 
Aedan was the outsider here, as always. If Angela were here, maybe there might be someone to share in the alienation of being a scientific mind on what could only be assumed as a spiritual mission—Mercy hated his guts, he was aware of that much, but it would have seemed less isolating, at least. Aedan watched Rei, easily ambling after her father and uncle as they walked deeper and deeper into the forest. Despite Rei’s teasing, his time on missions with Overwatch and environmental research trips with Mei had made him a bit hardier in the wilderness. 
“So…” Aedan broke the silence with a human voice, “You all… come here often?”
“That is not your concern,” Hanzo said crisply.
“Uncle used to bring me here for ninja training when I was younger,” said Rei, smiling.
“Rei,” Hanzo said her name in warning.
“What?” said Rei, “We can trust him.”
Aedan reddened a little.
“I mean, this isn’t exactly Overwatch-breaking information, anyway,” Rei added, “It was fun! I wore this big, dorky ankle weights and I’d have to chase after him along all these paths and jumping from tree to tree…”
Hanzo huffed.
“I think most of our tree markers from that time are still here,” Genji said, his eyes scanning the light filtering through the leaves above. He sighed a little wistfully, “You were so little, then.”
“Dad—“ Rei started with an eye-roll.
“You tried so hard,” Genji’s fingertips were pressing along his faceplate.
“Dad,” Rei’s voice was harsh with exasperation. She looked back at Aedan, beet red. Aedan kind of liked the mental image of a smaller version of Rei jumping from tree limb to tree limb. It seemed like her, anyway.
“Our father trained us in this forest too,” said Hanzo.
“If by ‘training’ you mean, ‘Left us alone for 5 days in the wilderness,’” said Genji, “Which, it turns out, is not a normal parenting thing.”
“According to Angela,” said Hanzo.
“According to most of the Watchpoint,” said Genji.
“Which, as we have discussed, are not a good model on which to determine what is ‘normal,’” said Hanzo.
Aedan gave a glance over to Rei, who was furrowing her brow as her father and uncle bickered. Aedan only shrugged at her. The term ‘normal parenting thing’ gave him some pause—after all, he had known from his very inception that his existence would not be a normal one—exactly how abnormal it would be he wouldn’t find out until later, but Talon had raised its children with the idea that Talon would change the world, that they would live in Talon’s world—Overwatch, well it wanted to make the world a better place, certainly, but it wasn’t the same vein as Talon. It wasn’t willing to burn down everything to start from scratch. It raised its children to adapt to and understand the world around them as it was. He sort of envied them for that. He, or Rei, or Samir or anyone could raise a question regarding the morality and legality of their actions and it would be considered just as seriously as if they were a senior member like Jack or Ana or McCree. Overwatch was an organization that was constantly facing the mistakes of its past… while Talon’s morality was malleable enough so they didn’t really have to grow, and thus, didn’t.
“So this forest has… a lot of meaning to the Shimada family, I take it?” said Aedan, looking at Rei’s pained expression and hoping he might take the focus of the conversation off of her and the proper means of raising her.
Both Genji and Hanzo looked over their shoulders at him and he suddenly felt very small.
“You… could say that,” said Hanzo slowly.
“Uncle, it’s where the clan got the dragons,” said Rei.
“He does not have a right to that information!” Hanzo snapped.
“Well he’s here, so he should know,” said Rei.
“He is merely a medic whose standing within Overwatch is probationary at best!” said Hanzo.
“Well… I told Angela in the early months of the Recall,” Genji said quietly.
Aedan could feel his own face burning at this point. He wasn’t sure how comfortable he was having his relationship with Rei compared to that of Rei’s parents.
Hanzo, apparently thinking the same, looked sharply to Genji. Aedan looked to Rei, who was still hiking along, but with her face buried in her hands at that point.
“The relationship is not comparable,” Hanzo said flatly. Everyone avoided eye-contact with each other for nearly half a mile after that.
“So!” Aedan managed to blurt out after the insufferable silence, looking at Rei, “How the clan got the dragons, huh?”
“Which is a story reserved for those within the clan,” said Hanzo, tensely.
“I told Angela,” said Genji.
“Well as I’ve said earlier, you’re married and the relationship is not comparable—“
“And McCree,” said Genji.
Hanzo closed his eyes and inhaled slowly and deeply through his nose before exhaling through his mouth. He opened his mouth to retort to Genji but was cut off as Rei cut in.
“And… maybe people outside of the clan should know the story?” said Rei, “I mean… you both put so much effort into collapsing it…”
“Moira was trying to understand the origin and purpose of the Shimada dragons for years,” said Genji, quietly, “If we were telling Jack or Ana or Pharah, I’m sure the story would be yielded more freely but…”
Aedan’s stomach knotted. Usually any mention of Moira tended to shut down any discussion of anything near him. As far as Overwatch knew, he could still be her Trojan horse.
“Well I’ll give him the abridged version,” said Rei, putting her hands on her hips and slowing her pace slightly so Aedan could walk alongside her.
“What?” said Aedan.
“What?” said Hanzo.
“So, the whole dragon thing started back with this lady in the Heian period, Reiko Shimada,” said Rei.
“Rei…ko?” said Aedan.
“Yeah, Dad named me after her. ‘New start’ and all that. But anyway she was like… super pregnant during this hardcore siege on her family’s castle--”
“‘Like super pregnant?’” Hanzo repeated Rei’s words, arching an eyebrow, “The story is well over a thousand years old. I think you owe your namesake a bit better than ‘like super pregnant.’”
“Fine, heavy with child,’” Rei imitated Hanzo’s dramatic timbre, “Anyway, during the battle, her Lord husband got killed, and she gave birth the night her family’s enemies finally broke through their defenses, and she named her baby boy Hikaru Shimada. And then her most loyal servant put both her and her newborn into a wheelbarrow and wheeled them as far away as he could from their burning castle until he got an arrow in the neck and she had to continue on foot. And she managed to make it to this forest. And she and her newborn son survived for 5 days here before her baby got this fever, and she thought she was going to lose him, but then she found the shrine of moonlight.”
“The shrine of moonlight?” Aedan arched an eyebrow.
“It sounds better in Japanese,” Hanzo said tersely.
“But the Shrine of Moonlight is where the dragons descended on her all like, ‘I shall protect you and all your bloodline for as long as a Shimada child lives!’ And baby Hikaru miraculously got better, and I guess all Shimada have dragons now…” Rei trailed off, “Except… y’know…”
“Except we’ll find the shrine and get your dragon back from it,” said Genji, slowing enough for her to walk up and meet him, where he tucked her hair back slightly. He had his visor on. Aedan wondered if Genji would still have his visor on if he wasn’t there. It became very clear to Aedan that this was a family affair, that if Mercy wasn’t busy patching Jack together from his latest foray in a battle he was far too old for, that she would be here, not him. Rei’s mother should be here, not him. She rescued Rei from Urdr, not him. Maybe if Mercy had resurrected Rei and not him, maybe Rei would still... Aedan felt his pace slowing, the Shimadas easily maintaining their hike ahead of him. Aedan tried to clear his thoughts. No, he was a medic. He had a place on this mission. He had to see this through, too.
Rei’s voice suddenly cut through his melancholy. “Wait--’Find?’” she said, “’Find’ as in, you don’t already know where it is?”
“Well Hanzo found it before,” said Genji but Hanzo glanced off.
“Uncle...?” said Rei.
“Well... it was more like it found me,” said Hanzo.
“Oh scheisse,” Rei muttered under her breath, “The storm arrow story.”
“Rei, I wouldn’t bring you out here if I didn’t believe there was something in these woods that can help you,” said Hanzo.
“You were bleeding out and delirious!” said Rei, “You said yourself you don’t know if you dreamed it!”
“Wait-wait--back up--Storm arrow story?” said Aedan.
Hanzo and Genji exchanged glances. Genji looked expectantly at Hanzo. Hanzo scoffed. 
“Fine,” he said, “So long as we’re spilling all of our family’s secrets to an ex-Talon clone of a mad scientist--A few years before Rei was born, I was dependent on a weapons supplier for a unique arrow called the scatter arrow. Our meeting point was at the border of this forest. Unfortunately while I was resupplying myself with his product, I learned the hard way that he had sold me out to my family. I was unprepared, and set upon by several assassins. I managed to dispatch them as well as my traitorous supplier, but in doing so, destroyed the resource for my most powerful weapon aside from the dragon. I stumbled through the woods, losing track of time and space--” 
“And you were bleeding out,” said Rei.
“And I was bleeding out,” Hanzo conceded, “I tried to clean out and patch up the worst of my injuries at the river but... ended up passing out into it.”
“If you sit by the river long enough...” Genji quipped but Hanzo rolled his eyes.
“I remember a blue light and a distant voice--I remember the feeling of the dragon dragging my mind back to consciousness...” said Hanzo, “When I came to, I had washed to a riverbank, and all my injuries were healed.” He extended his arm and the blue light of his dragon spiraled around it, “And in that moment I knew, something had awakened in my dragon as well. It felt... brighter, stronger...more present in me than ever before,” he looked back at Rei, “There is something in this forest Rei. Something connected to the dragon. I would not be here otherwise.” 
“So the dragon saved you,” said Rei, furrowing her brows.
“The dragon is dependent on me, Rei, there had to be something else.”
“Or someone else! What if a hiker just found you and happened to have a biotic cannister on them and they healed you and just... left?”
“A hiker? In the middle of the night? Leaving me in a river where I could still get hypothermia?” said Hanzo, “Seems unusual for someone trying to save someone...”
“Well... you are kind of heavy,” said Genji, but Hanzo gave him a sharp look and Genji cleared his throat.
“It was the shrine,” said Hanzo, stopping and looking at Rei, “I know it was.”
Rei pursed her lips, “We’re really scraping the bottom of the barrel for getting the dragon back, aren’t we?” she said quietly.
“Rei--” Genji moved to put a hand on her shoulder but she shrugged it off and picked up her pace.
“Rei...” Hanzo started after her.
“You said you found it when you fell in a river, right?” said Rei, her voice bitter, “We’d better start walking if we’re going to find it. Maybe if I’m lucky I’ll get a head injury on the way and we’ll definitely find it!”
Hanzo sighed and rubbed his forehead, Genji paused, unable decide whether to catch up with her or give her her space. Aedan did decide. Despite having longer legs than her, he still had to practically jog to catch up with her, far enough away from Genji and Hanzo to be out of earshot, but close enough so that even in the brush and trees, there was still a faint visual.
“Rei--” he spoke after her.
“Don’t,” said Rei.
“I know it doesn’t look certain--”
“You said we’d get it this time!” Rei whirled on her feet at him.
“...I said this time would be different,” said Aedan, glancing off.
Something wet glistened in Rei’s eyes for a second but she bit the inside of her lip and turned away from him. “But you didn’t know,” she said “You don’t know.” 
“I don’t,” Aedan admitted, “But... I believe it’s different this time.”
Rei’s face dropped. “Believe? Aedan--you’re always going off about science and empiricism and all that stuff. You’re not a ‘believe’ person.”
“And you’re someone whose family has this thousand year old legacy of pulling magical dragons out of thin air! And--look--back at Urdr--I didn’t know I could do what I did. I didn’t know. And look, my Mum, she probably analyzed as much of your dad’s DNA as she could get her mangled hands on, and she still couldn’t figure out where the dragon came from--How it worked. For me, Fading is like flexing a muscle that... that isn’t there. And bringing someone back that was... It was something inside me--something that was always there that I just had to figure out how to call. And I think the dragon is something similar for you. There’s another element at work here that none of us could understand... not yet... and I think that requires heading off into the unknown for that.”
Rei was silent, staring at him, eyes wet and shining. Aedan hesitantly reached forward and grabbed her hand. “You’re right. I’m not a ‘believe’ person. But I believe in you.” 
Rei looked down at his hand clasped around hers, and then back up to his eyes. Heterochromatic, earnest, searching, always a little anxious. Aedan felt her fingers squeeze around his.
“Aedan--” she started but was interrupted by Hanzo pushing through the brush behind them.
“Rei,” he was saying, “I know the situation seems--Oh--I’m sorry I didn’t mean to--”
Rei’s hand jerked from Aedan’s in a second.
“It’s--it’s nothing,” she stammered, “It’s fine. I’m fine now.” 
“Oh... Well... good,” said Hanzo as Genji pushed through the brush after him.
“Ready to keep going?” Rei forced a smile.
“You were painfully accurate earlier,” said Hanzo, “As you said, we do believe our best bet is looking for a river or similar body of water.”
“Well, I guess we should find it then, shouldn’t we?” said Rei.
Hanzo and Genji gave a nod and the four continued on their way.
Rei looked over her shoulder and mouthed a ‘thank you’ to Aedan, and Aedan gave a small thumbs-up to her.
“What did you say to her?” Genji’s voice was barely audible, even to Aedan, but Aedan just awkwardly shrugged.
“Y’know I... let her know I have a good feeling about this,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.
---
“Arriving in Tōhoku airspace now,” the Talon pilot said as the Vaquita glided over the ocean.
“Excellent,” said Faustine, sitting primly in the co-pilot’s seat. She extended a hand to Andrea. “If you will,” she said.
Andrea handed over the nanite tracker. Faustine peeled off both of her driving gloves, revealing the mosaics of neuroprosthetics on the backs of her hands. Faustine extended the fingers of her right hand toward the tracker while extending her left hand toward the Vaquita’s GPS on the dash. Andrea tilted her head with some curiousity as vein-like wires slid out from beneath Faustine’s fingernails and threaded themselves over the tracker, and likewise wires from her left hand stretched taut into the dash.
“Triangulating new coordinates,” said the Vaquita’s AI as the pilot tilted the ship slightly.
“You know you could just plug it in,” said the pilot.
“Well, as Maximilien said, it’s a highly delicate and expensively produced piece of machinery,” said Faustine, “Should there be any fluctuations on the vaquita, I can insulate it from the surge.”  Faustine’s eyelids fluttered slightly as she looked at the GPS, “Shirakami-Sanchi?” she arched an eyebrow, “You hardly struck me as the outdoorsman, Aedan.”
“Do those hurt?” asked Andrea, watching as Faustine inhaled and wires extending from her fingertips seemed to twitch like veins.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” said Faustine, “Nervous disorder when I was little--you know, pain is in the mind. And the nerves. And sometimes it’s not real. But thank you for your concern.”
“I was only asking in case such modifications might make me more useful to Talon,” said Andrea, “If the pain distracts from my missions, such modifications are best specialized to you.”
Faustine smiled. “Oh they are definitely best specialized to me,” she said, “Knight,” she motioned with her head toward Andrea, “And Bishop,” she nodded for herself, “We all have our parts to play.”
“Hm,” Andrea gave a nod.
“New Coordinates found,” the Vaquita’s AI spoke up again, “Adjusting course.”
“I have a good feeling about this,” said Faustine.
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vamillepudding · 6 years ago
Note
Love your work! Here’s an idea: Tommy seems to have pretty strained relationship with his family in your fics (and in the show tbh), at least the way he sees it. He gets sick, or injured (maybe something minor that leads to an infection?) but doesn’t tell anyone. Doesn’t want to cause a stir, misjudges how serious the situation is, feels that he needs to keep working, along those lines. No one notices, and he pushes himself harder each day to keep it that way. 1/2
2/2 Until eventually of course, he can’t. Maybe he’s gone to visit Alfie and stay there for a few days, but when Alfie opens the door, Tommy all but collapses in his arms? OR for added family drama: Alfie comes to Birmingham to see Tommy, only to find him as he’s on the verge of collapsing in his office, unable to even get home on his own. Alfie takes him home and stays to make sure Tommy gets back on his feet. Tommy finally gets some much needed comfort. Do what you will with this! x
A prompt !! And such a lovely one too ! I had a lot of fun writing this, and I hope it lives up to expectations ! (I’ll upload this on my Ao3 account too but I’m kind of wary of linking it because what if it doesn’t show up on the tag and no one will see it ??? My life would be empty and meaningless for sure.) //
Three things happen to the Shelby family on that rainy afternoon in November: Ava’s son says his first word, Esme leaves John in charge of dinner to go to the bathroom and finds the kitchen on fire upon her return, and Tommy is stabbed in the shoulder.
Karl’s first word was duck. In 10 years, he will chase a duck and almost drown in the pond, in another 10 years, he will meet a girl in a yellow dress with ducks sewn onto it, and 10 years after that they will give their daughter a stuffed toy duck. 
This is not that story. 
Tommy’s assailant is shorter than him, but bulkier, and he’s got the element of surprise, which plays in his favour. Tommy, having grown up on those streets and lived to see the age of 30, manages to throw the man off, but by that time, the damage is already done. 
He cuts out the man’s eyes, then slits his throatand leaves him in the alley where a slight rain has begun to fall. The knife isstill stuck in his shoulder, so Tommy pulls it out in one swift move, pleased that it doesn’t appear to be much more than a shallow wound, certainly nothing to make a fuss about. He’ll wrap it up when he gets home, maybe chew some leaves for the pain, and that’ll be all there is to it.
Only there is no time for such luxuries at home, because as soon as he stepsthrough the door, three different family members rush at him, all with their own concerns. 
“Arthur has shot someone in the Garrison, and where were you to stop him?” Polly asks in the same moment that Esme says: “Your brother blew up the kitchen”. 
He can only assume she means John, but doesn’t have time to ponder the matter, as Finn now jumps in with: “Tommy, I think Isaiah broke his wrist but he won’t show me so how will I know?”
“Everyone, shut up” Tommy snaps. He’s hurting, but not enough to justify shutting himself away in his room for a few hours. “Let’s focus on the most important thing first, eh? Who did Arthur shoot and why?”
“An Irishman who ‘looked at him funny’.” Polly’s voice is cool as ice; the airquotes practically visible. “The coppers didn’t come knocking yet, but you bet they won’t stay away for much longer, and God only knows how you’ll turn this one around.” 
“Where is Arthur?”
 “Still at the Garrison. Drunk by now, probably.”
 “I’ll talk to him and fix this” Tommy says, more to himself than to his aunt, who doesn’t need to be told this anyway. She already knows. “Finn” he continues as Polly leaves, “you can tell Isaiah that he’s got the choice between letting himself get checked out this instant, or come talk to me. If I don’t see his wrist bandaged by this evening, I’ll make the choice for him.”
Finn nods sharply and follows Polly out. Only Esme left now, so Tommy allows himself to be led into the kitchen and shown the damage, which really is quite extensive. Great. They’re making good money at the moment, but that doesn’t mean they can afford to have an entire kitchen replaced. Tommy pinches the bridge of his nose to stave off the headache he feels forming.
“How did it even get this far?” he asks. “Did John wash the furniture in oil before setting a match to it?”
“How would I know?” Esme snaps back. “I was gone.”
“Gone for half the day by the looks of it.” Tommy reaches out to touch the blackened wood that used to be the counter, then shakes his head. “I guess this means no more homecooked meals for a while then.”
It’s a good thing he didn’t even bother taking off his coat, because the next stop is the Garrison. “Not that you ever eat any of them anyway” Esme calls after him, but he’s too far away to make a reply necessary.
At the bar, Tommy spends thirty minutes yelling at Arthur for being so quick to draw his gun, and then another half hour yelling at John for not stopping him, and then it’s time to both reassure the coppers and get the victim’s uncles not to stab Arthur in the stomach. One Shelby knife wound is enough for the day, he reckons, reminded again of the still unattended injury. It hasn’t bothered himin quite a bit, which isn’t exactly a good sign seeing as his entire left arm is numb by now, but it’s not like Tommy can just tell everyone to stop fighting for five minutes so he can take a quiet moment and examine how much damage has been done.
At one point Isaiah turns up, rather sheepish it seems, but clearly he followed Tommy’s order and got his wrist seen to. On some level Tommy is aware that he’s being a hypocrite. It’s different though, he thinks to himself. Isaiah is, what, 15 years younger? Practically a child.
It’s important that he learns how to take care of himself, that he knows not to ignore injuries or else they will only get worse.
If Tommy were adept at following his own advice, he’d presumably have had more successful long-term relationships.
Speaking of which – he really will have to call Alfie at some point. It’s been about two weeks since Tommy was last in London, and usually they’d have talked on the phone by now. The only reason they haven’t is that they both seem to be constantly busy. Still. Tommy feels like he should make the effort.
Soon, though, this thought gets banished to the back of his mind since there are other matters that demand his attention. The whole ‘keep Arthur out of jail’-operation takes all day, and by the time evening rolls around, Tommy is more exhausted than he’s been in years, more than he has any right to be.
He falls asleep immediately, which is another surprise, as he’s used to turning and tossing for ages before he can finally settle down. It’s something that annoys Alfie to great lengths, but it’s not like there’s anything Tommy can do about it.Tonight, though, sleeps overcomes him within seconds of his head hitting the pillow. And yet, when he wakes up in the morning, he feels worse than before.
The numbness is gone from his arm, replaced by a burning pain that brings tears to his eyes. He slept in his street clothes, having been too tired to get undressed yesterday, and he sorely regrets that decision now as he removes his shirt and finds that it rips open the wound all over again. Shit.
He barely has enough time to wash himself, carefully avoiding getting any soap near the cut, before some yelling comes from downstairs. Undoubtedly the next family drama has already started, so Tommy grits his teeth and joins the others in their shouting match.
He doesn’t call Alfie that day either.
The next day, he tries to get out of bed and is hit by a wave of dizziness that has him sitting back down. It’s gone as quickly as it arrived, so he doesn’t give it another thought. When he was a teenager, Tommy suffered from low blood pressure and fainted more than once, so he’s no stranger to this unsteady feeling that comes from standing up too quickly.
It’s no big deal, only a tad annoying. He still gets it when he forgets to eat for a couple of days, which is less often nowadays. Today is, apparently, one of those times. What was the last meal he ate? He can’t recall, so he puts ‘eat something’ on his To-Do-List for the day.
Tommy cuts himself shaving that morning, another thing that hasn’t happened in a while. Ages, actually. His hands shake ever so slightly as they hold the razor. What was on his agenda again? Did he just have a thought about that? He can’t recall, so it couldn’t have been important.
He does end up eating a slice of bread. The phone stays untouched.
On Thursday, three days after the attack in the alley, Tommy is freezing. There must be something wrong with his window, he thinks. He’ll get it fixed soon, it’s a miracle there is no frost forming yet.
He dresses in more layers than usual, which does absolutely nothing to warm him, goes into his office to finish some paperwork he left for too long, and the next time he becomes aware of his environment again, the late afternoon sun is shining through the windows. He must have missed the entire day just sitting at his desk and, what? Staring into the distance? Napping?
At least his shoulder is numb once more. His headache is already bad enough, hedoesn’t need more pain.
Why is it so cold here too? Has Birmingham gone back to the ice age? Or does no one here know how to fucking heat properly?
Tommy stands up to find someone to shout at for the cold, only to notice that he can’t get up. His legs won’t work properly somehow. It’s cold, too, he thinks. Why is it so cold in here?
Maybe he’ll just sleep for a while. If anyone needs something, they’ll come looking for him, he knows, so he isn’t in danger of missing anything important. He’ll just sleep for a little bit. Isn’t it kinda cold in here?
The next time he wakes up, Alfie Solomons is saying his name.
**
Alfie hasn’t heard from Tommy in nearly two weeks. He tells himself that it’s fine, Tommy is just busy, but immediately images from their first meeting spring into his mind, and he can’t help but wonder if something bad is going on that Tommy doesn’t want him knowing about. Seems likely, that. Seems just as likely that Tommy just forgot though.
One way to find out. He leaves Ollie in charge of the bakery and drives to Birmingham, where he hopes to find his boyfriend nothing but overworked and slightly annoyed that Alfie questioned him.
Well, if Tommy wants to avoid unannounced visits like this one, he should start answering his goddamn phone every once in a while, shouldn’t he? Maybe then Alfie wouldn’t have to go to Small Heath, of all the miserable places, and track down someone who might know Tommy’s whereabouts.
As it turns out, no one knows. Alfie runs into both John and Arthur Shelby, and neither has any idea whatsoever where Tommy might be.
“You’re telling me, right, that you don’t even know the last time you saw your own brother? The man who lives in the same house as you and runs the family business? And you don’t even fucking know when you saw him last?” Alfie’s voice is rising, and he lets it. John and Arthur exchange vaguely uncomfortable looks before Arthur says:
“Why do you want to know, anyway? Don’t tell me you can’t get a good fuck elsewhere.”
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that, mate” Alfie says pleasantly. “Because if you did say that, then I’d have to fucking shoot you, wouldn’t I? And I don’t think Tommy would be very pleased with me then. But to not be pleased with me, he’d have to be here first, wouldn’t he, mate, which naturally brings us back to my original question of where the fuck he is."
“You could try the office”, John offers. He puts a hand on Arthur’s chest in a placating gesture, and since Arthur hasn’t punched anyone yet, it seems to be working.
“Why, thank you so much for your cooperation.” Alfie leaves them to their own devices and goes to follow John’s reluctant suggestion.
It’s somewhat of a surprise that John was right. What’s more of a surprise though is the state Alfie finds Tommy in: Slumped over in his chair, even paler than usual, his shirt drenched with sweat. A quick touch to the forehead tells him what he already suspected, Tommy is burning up. “Fucking hell” Alfie mutters. “Tommy? Tommy! For fuck’s sake, wake up.”
And Tommy does – wake up, that is. He opens his eyes to stare straight back at Alfie, and fuck if that’s not the most beautiful sight Alfie has ever seen.
“Alfie?”
“That’s right” Alfie says, fighting to keep his temper under control. Tommy doesn’t need him lashing out right now.
“You’re not…why aren’t you in London?” Tommy’s speech is slightly slurred as he struggles to get the words out.
“Figured it’s been way too long since we saw each other. Let’s get you home,eh? Can you get up?”
Despite the nod that follows that question, it’s painfully obvious that there is no way Tommy is getting out of that chair on his own.
The great thing about the Shelby Company Limited, or whatever they’re calling themselves these days, is that it’s located right next to Tommy’s house, even equipped with a not-so-secret passage and all.
It means that there is even less of an excuse for Tommy’s family not to have noticed Tommy’s ailment, but right now, it perfectly suits Alfie, since he is able to carry Tommy into bed without putting too much pressure on his back. It takes less than five minutes, during which they blessedly haven’t run into anyone who might ask questions.
Alfie has never been great at taking care of people, has, in fact, a history of steering clear of all family members and employees who show even the slightest sign of illness; not because he is afraid of getting sick himself but because he literally does not know how to deal with it. He doesn’t have much of a choice at the moment though. Because Tommy is his lover, and also because there is no one else to do the job.
(Why isn’t there anyone else to do the job? What point is there to having more siblings than a fucking puppy if none of them stick around to notice you have a fever?)
Until now, he was sure that this is a normal fever – until he touches Tommy’s shoulder to get him to focus again, and Tommy winces.
A man who has been shot, stabbed, burned and, on one memorable occasion, hit over the head with a bottle of rum (an effective way of ruining booze for him forever), Alfie recognises when people are injured. Tommy clearly is, so he decides to just go down the easiest route and cuts open Tommy’s shirt to get quicker access to whatever is causing him pain.
And there it is now, laid out before him like a present of the worst kind, a cut that might not even be that deep but obviously got infected. Yellow pus is covering it, and the area around it is red and inflamed. Alfie curses again, which is all he allows himself to do before getting to work.
He briefly considers asking Tommy if they keep any antiseptics in the house, but his lover doesn’t look very coherent right now, muttering softly under his breath with a heated flush still grazing his cheeks. The fever is an issue, but first the eound has to be cleaned.
“I’ll be right back” Alfie says, not that Tommy appears to hear him, and goes downstairs to either find the necessary supplies himself, or get someone to do it for him.
The kitchen, as it turns out, is of no use. For some reason it’s burned to a crisp, and Alfie finds that he really, really doesn’t want to know, so he leaves it be and opens a few cupboards in what passes as a living room in this shitty house.
The click of a gun being uncocked stops him in his tracks. “What do you think you’re doing?” Polly Grey asks.
“You see, I really wasn’t sure if maybe your family hadn’t all either been turned braindead or left the country, so you could say I’m over the fucking moon to see you. Maybe you can even tell me where you keep the iodine.”
Polly knows about him and Tommy, and it must be that knowledge that has her tucking the pistol away into the folds of her dress. Her suspicious glare doesn’t fade, though. “Why?”
Alfie is glad she asked. “Because your nephew, right, is upstairs, and it seems that not a single member of his family would even notice if he was dying. Which he won’t, if you would ever so kindly answer my question.”
“Don’t be ridiculous” Polly says, even as she starts rummaging about a small cabinet Alfie didn’t even see. “Thomas enjoys the attention. I’m frankly surprised you haven’t noticed.”
She hands him a bottle that must be the iodine heasked for, followed by some cotton and another bottle that’s labelled aspirin. He’s suddenly glad that his hands are full, because otherwise, he might have done something he’d almost certainly regret, especially when Polly continues: “You can take that to him, but I wouldn’t be too sure that he needs it. Now excuse me, I have to go see my son.”
Telling himself that it wouldn’t solve any problems to hit a member of Tommy’s family, he returns to the only Shelby he actually likes.
From this point on, it’s easy and nothing Alfie hasn’t done before. He cleans out the wound, then adds more antiseptic to a cloth and uses it to cover the cut. It’ll need to be changed, but not for a few hours. If the fever hasn’t gone down by then, they’ll have to think of something.
For the moment though, this, too, can wait, so Alfie settles down next to Tommy. He kisses Tommy on the forehead, taking advantage of the fact that his partner isn’t actually conscious enough to complain about the beard tickling him, and then he spends the rest of the night keeping watch.
He technically knows that no threat will enter the bedroom, but that doesn’t stop him from tensing every time he hears footsteps on the stairs. But no one comes and nothing disturbs Tommy’s sleep, which has finally passed from a feverish tossing and turning to a steady and calm state of dreamlessness. And so Alfie, too, falls asleep eventually.
Three things happen on that clear November evening: Ava’s son says his second word, John gets into a small shooting that he wins and gets out unscathed, and Alfie does something Tommy rarely allows when fully conscious, which is to take care of him.
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dukevividwriting · 6 years ago
Text
Existence (part 1)
A Guilty Gear Fanfiction
Sol trugged his way though desert of Neo New York. A long day of training with the Ky had passed again. One step closer to being able to truly fight that bastard, Asuka. It wasn't hard training, per se. He just wasn't used to using tatics and complex strategies in a fight.
'More like convoluted...When did the boy-scout become such a slave driver anyway?' The passing thought allowed for a small appreciative grunt. He would never admit it, but he feels lucky to have the first king's help. Too much has happened..IS HAPPENING in this point in his life and with the upcoming showdown Sol wanted to be sure to walk away victorious, even if it means "trying his best".
As he continued his way up a steep hill, lost in his thoughts, he heard a voice called out to him.
"Fre~derick!"
Sol looked up, stunned at the name and voice. Two hundred plus years later, and her smile still makes his heart skip a beat. Waving happily as she always did before all the bullshit. Bullshit that Auska, Aria, and himself had a hand in creating. Though, Aria was more of an victim than anything.
A victim of their weakness. Thier incapability to protect the one person who meant something to the both of them. Their personal ambitions choices, and acts repentance. Their centuries age feud, many times over. It was both a blessing and a curse to have her back in this savage life.
"Tsc! You're up and about." His voice held very minuscule bit of teasing. He was eased to see her up, though her appearance caused him a bit of paused. Shoulder length silver hair with a crimson under in placed of vibrant red. Skin a shade darker than usual. Eyes of sparkling emerald. She looked like a cross between the Aria of old and Jack-o of now.
"Well when you've been out of commission for as long as I have..."
"Yeah.. I get it. So You came to pick me up? Thought you would be trying to explore with Dizzy or one of your 'sisters'."
"I ..Did..but I came to meet you..To speak with you one on one...Like old times."
Sol noticed the uncertainty in her voice. The way she played with a left front lock of her hair, a nervous tick that Aria had and made both him and Auska swear not to mentioned it. Sol folded his arms and looked towards the setting sun silently, before giving the slightest invitation to join him. Aria smiled as she walked to his side. She took a moment to drink him in. He was so different compared to what he was all those years ago and yet so familiar.
"Two centuries been good to you. Still have that infamous deposition of yours though."
His skin was a bit tanner, hair much longer; body was stronger, taller, and bulkier than she recalled. The most striking thing was his eyes, the color of fine burbon, slightly draconian in nature; and strkingly cold on the surface. Aria knew better though he always had eyes like that, even as her stringly, lone wolf, genius with ocean green eyes. His eyes held so much hidden emotion and turmoil. A hunger to succeed, a need to find a place in the world. She poked his bicep with a curious appreciation.
"Where did my twig of a scientist go?"
"I ate him."
Aria gave a faux gasp and playfully looked away. "My, oh my..Is that to say my darling Frederick is gone and all that left is you, Sol?...Eh I can live with that."
Sol clicked his teeth but let a smirk grace his lips as he felt her lean on him. Aside from the primal instinctual urges (that he belive came from the human, gear and seed within him) from feeling her body upon his, her touch was calming, her voice melodic, it been such a long time since he felt this human.
"This feels so surreal, being here with you." She clenched fist feeling a strength and power she never had in the past, no trace of TP either.
"Hmm, I would say so. You haven't been you in so long."
"Its haven't been long...Not for me. The last thing I remember is sleeping. After that, everything played like vivd dreams and nightmares, but I know that's not the case...Those 'dreams' are memories..."
The pain in her voice killed the Sol many times over. He kept towards the setting sun,l ooking at her through his left peripheral. Her smile; contemptible yet gracious.
"I know so much about this world and its workings, yet this is the first time I ever breathed its air, felt its sun, stepped on its surface. It's disorienting."
"I would suppose so. It'll take a while, but you'll find your place."
"Do I deserve one?"
That caused the immoral flame to look directly at her, his eyes burning with anger. She glared back, fist clenched.
"The hell make you think you don't? Of course you do, just as much as anyone else."
"How can you be so sure!? After everything I've done, do you really believe that I deserve to be alive?"
"Aria, you aren't responsible for that damnit!"
"Bullshit!"
Sol was stunned at the force of her voice, the fire in her eyes, threating him to interrupt.
"DON'T YOU DARE PATRONIZE ME! You might think of me as innocent, but the fucking scenes in my head say different. I've orchestrated a fucking war that put this world and humanity to the brink. I killed kliff Underson; Yours and Ky's master. "
It was then that the tears fell freely, but she held her glare. " I tried to kill my...OUR daughter...OUR FAMILY in the baptism 13 event...I tried to kill YOU. God, I tried to kill you multiple times."
She couldn't stand to look at him anymore and turned her back towards him. "You especially suffered so much because of me."
"If you remember those events, you must remember that I KILLED YOU AT LEAST TWICE!"
"I was a threat to the world at the time..You had to do it."
"Tsch! Now who's being patronizing! Just so you know if I knew I wouldn't have kiiled you."
Aria looked over her shoulder at the gear, who glare turned a look of annoyance.
"You are just as much as a victim of as anyone else. You didn't sign up to be used by Asuka, by the Universal Will or any other asshole. You were violated..Your DNA... Your very soul and existence, used as tool by forces out of your control."
The reborn woman turned directly to him face full of rage and disgust "IT WAS STILL MY SOUL! MY EXISTENCE! THAT CAUSE THIS WORLD! NO MATTER BY WHO COMMAND..IT WAS STILL..Still.Aria Hale?..Justice?...Valentine?..Jack-o?..
Aria let out a broken laugh as she felt the anger subsided and a deep emptiness set in..."My god..I don't even know who I am...am I any of these names that I said..." She looked at Sol pleadingly. "Why did you save me?"
Sol growled harshly before grabbing her by the wrist, pulling her towards him..into a surprising gentle and familiar embraced. "Cause you're Aria, Damnit."
She tried to fight his grip, fruitlessly. Whether it was due to her emotional fatigue in opposition to his gear strength or how reminiscent it felt; as if they were back in their lab, she didn't know but she quickly gave in; trembling against his chest, unconsciously gripping his back for dear life.
"Who is Aria? There so much thoughts, emotions and memories about me..you..us... but I have not existed long enough to have any one them. So what make you so sure?"
"Other than curves of your body?"
The sound of her sucking her teeth, the feel of ger punching his back, followed by her distinct pout cause a smirk on Sol's face.
"Really? Must you always be insensitive, Frederick. 200 years..and you're still horrible at flirting."
"200 years and you're still easy to tease." Sol looked down at her before sighing deeply. " Still you're as much 'Aria Hale' as' Frederick Bulsara' is me. We have their souls and past. It's unfortunate, but we are what left of those two. Tasked with living in the world the three of them created through their own selfishness. The result of their sins."
Aria let out a cold chuckle but kept her hold. " So what do that make me..make us? A replacement, a place holder, inheritors of their guilt and sin?"
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thetakenpokemon · 6 years ago
Text
Act 1 - Compact Preparations
[Kiana]
Although my ‘workshop’ constantly changes whenever I move to new locations, what really makes me at home is when I’m simply tinkering and building things.
My current ‘workshop’ is simply a large room in this bunker, a place where I can properly dump all my parts in and have plenty of space to work on things.
And I have to say, with the numerous heists we’ve been pulling lately on HWDP-owned warehouses...I got quite a few things to work on.
My brows furrow slightly as I twist the last of the screws in, my fingers only just starting to ache slightly due to the constant work I’ve been putting into this thing.
After making sure the plate won’t budge, I get up from the floor and take a step back to admire my work.
The ‘Condensed Offensive Mobile Perimeter-Control Turret’. ‘Course that’s quite a mouthful, so I call it the ‘Compact’ for short.
The first time I built one of these was when I was re-purposing a stolen Sentinel-Class CCW when my squad and I started doing some ‘freelancing’. My original intention was to create a turret that was smaller and easier to deploy, unlike the larger and bulkier Sentinels.
My solution for the Compact was easy, but actually building it was another problem. I couldn’t use many of the parts of the Sentinel besides its AI chip and camera, yet even then I had to create my own program for the AI chip if I wanted it to do stuff I wanted it to do.
Ultimately the final design was a four-legged turret that goes no higher than my thighs. Its deactivated state however is in a box-like shape that can be easily moved and stored, also not including its relatively light weight.
Pulling out my tiny datapad I swipe my finger across the screen, causing it to light up to show the statistics of all currently operable Compacts. The list shows four in total, yet after a few moments a fifth one pops up after it registers the newest one I’ve built.
Tapping on the fifth icon it brings up the statistics of ‘Compact #5′, and upon touching the ‘Activate’ icon the thing immediately comes to life.
The four legs immediately unfold from its sides, the sharp ends of the appendages easily digging into the tiled floor. With proper leverage made it lifts its frame off the ground, soon following with the M19 Carbine unfolding out from the top.
So far so good...
I tap the ‘camera-view’ icon on the datapad and I’m immediately shown with an Infrared view of myself. A small icon is labeled on my form, signifying that I’m an ‘Ally’.
Good... Now the next part...
I step away from the turret and pull up the ‘Admin’s Access’, prompting for a password. Upon putting in the code, several options show up. I tap the ‘test-fire’ button followed with the ‘fire at detected movement’.
Okay...
Grabbing a small metal plate off the ground I throw it into the Compact’s field-of-view.
Immediately the gun’s barrel follows the plate and I hear the soft sound of rapid clicking, signifying that the gun is trying to shoot it.
“Very nice...” I mumble to myself, giving an approving nod.
Now...for the final bit.
After turning off Admin Access I deactivate the turret, in which the thing folds back into its box-like shape.
I smile with satisfaction.
Although I know how to build these things now, it still takes a lot of damn work to actually get them fully-operable. Lots of testing and tweaking is required, since the last thing I want is for them to unfold improperly or have its camera malfunction in the middle of a firefight.
And honestly? That can still happen, thus why constant maintenance is a must.
All that’s left for me is to take the thing to the home-made shooting range we built in this place, so I can have the Compact actually shoot bullets so I can test the Bullet Feed system as well as the accuracy of the Compact.
I check my watch, showing that the time is ‘18:12’.
Eh, I’ll do it later. The Doc said to for all of us to meet him at 18:30, since we’re gonna go over the first big step in our plans.
‘Cus all of those heists we made? Stealing all that gear and stuff from the HWDP? It’s to prepare ourselves. Very soon we’re gonna start a chain of events that’ll bring that organization down to its knees.
And damn, it’ll be one of the most highest paying gigs my squad has ever participated in...
But it won’t be easy.
No, it’ll be difficult as hell... But if we succeed? Progria will be changed forever, for better or worse.
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rungian · 7 years ago
Text
Burns/Smithers, but it’s a rewrite
So ages ago, right, @hrgwin put up a picture and it utterly killed me, to the extent I wrote a drabble for it (picture and drabble together here http://rungian.tumblr.com/post/172003827747/hrgwin-they-got-kindnapped )
Turns out that I wasn’t satisfied with just that, so I wrote another ‘drabble,’ except this one is 3000 words long. Oops ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Some people are bad influences and forced persuaded me to post it. So, uh
Burnsmithers fic beneath the cut
The first Burns knew of it was when he opened the front door of his mansion to greet the morning and was instead greeted by a huff of bad breath and the business end of a handgun being waved in his face. Before he could even think of letting out an indignant “what the devil?” a young-ish, scruffy man with a scarf pulled up over his mouth forced his way across the threshold.
“Get in the truck,” snarled the intruder, waving the gun at him and gesturing back to a windowless Transit van, “or I'll blow yer fuckin' brains out.”
“I beg your pardon?” asked Burns, somewhere between taken aback and sneering contempt. “Are you actually trying to kidnap me?”
“Trying and succeeding, if you want to keep your face!”
In an instant, Smithers was between them, his hands held up disarmingly.
“We'll come quietly.” His voice was calm, soothing. Burns glared at him, trying feebly to push him out of the way, but Smithers glanced back with an expression that stilled him instantly. The gunman watched them, eyes narrowed with suspicion.
“Who said anything about we?” The tip of the barrel twitched towards Burns. “He's the only one of any value.”
“We'll come,” repeated Smithers. “No need for threats.”
“Poppycock, Smithers, I have no time for childish buffoonery!” Burns brushed past Smithers, staring down his nose at the gunman with an expression of detached disdain.
“Sir, please!”
“Release the hounds!”
“Do anything,” snarled the kidnapper before Smithers could move, “and the old man dies.”
Smithers froze as the gun was pointed once again squarely at Burns' head, but Burns did not seem in the least bit perturbed.
“You don't have the stomach,” he taunted. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Smithers desperately shaking his head and waving his hands, but he was far too confident to pay his subordinate any heed. “Besides, where's the sense? If I were to die, who would you hold to ransom? Smithers? He's hardly worth anything to anybody.”
The ugly look that crossed their attacker's face caused even Burns' thin blood to run cold. “Or, if I kill you both now, grandpa, then who is there to stop me taking the money anyway?”
Suddenly, Burns realised he was staring down the barrel of the gun into the steely, determined eyes of a man who was not at all afraid to pull that trigger and snuff his life out. He swallowed nervously, bravado instantly gone.
“Now now,” he said, backing away a step or two, “let's not be hasty. I'm sure we can come to some sort of agreement, eh...?”
He'd been shot before, he'd felt that pain before, ripping through his withered body – would he really die this time? Burns' voice died in his bone-dry throat as he watched the finger squeeze insistently against the trigger, slowly – slowly –
Burns instinctively threw himself to the ground as the shot rang out, but the bullet he expected to tear through his flesh never came. Instead, there was a loud grunting from above him, amid the sounds of a scuffle. Hesitantly, Burns dared to open his eyes and peek through his fingers, half expecting a second shot to silence him for good, but instead –
Smithers had leapt in front of him again and was trying to wrestle the gun away from the intruder. There was a smoking hole in the ceiling; it seemed as though the weapon had accidentally discharged during the struggle, or maybe Smithers had shoved against him as he fired and thrown off his aim at the last moment. Either way, his assistant's quick action had probably saved Burns' life again.
Even though the gunman was far bulkier than Smithers, Smithers definitely seemed to have the advantage as he twisted the man's arm around firmly and started striking both hand and gun against the wall in a valiant attempt to loosen the iron grip. For a moment, it almost looked like Smithers would overpower him. For one sweet moment, Burns could see an escape route for both of them.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a movement. He barely had a chance to curse his own stupidity. Of course there would be a driver...
The second kidnapper brought the baseball bat down on Smithers with stunning force, striking him hard in the temple and shattering his glasses. With a soft groan and a brief stagger, Smithers lost his grip on the other man and sank slowly to the floor, clutching at his head. Almost immediately, taking the barest moment to collect himself, the gunman recovered and started kicking cruelly at Smithers, who curled up into a foetal position, arms raised desperately to shield his face.
“You nasty meddling little bitch!” Kicks rained down into Smithers' ribs and stomach, connecting each time with a sickening meaty thud and, occasionally, a quiet cry from the helpless victim. “I'm gonna beat the shit outta you! Didn't your daddy never tell you, don't be a fuckin' hero!”
As he aimed another kick, this time at Smithers' face, his companion grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back.
“Woah, woah, hold up, man, he's had enough. He'll die if you keep kickin' him like that.”
“So? No loose ends, right? Dead men don't snitch.”
“Yeah but that don't mean you should leave a stiff on the doormat. C'mon, let's get 'em shipped over for now, we can fret small shit later. He's not gonna cause any more trouble now, an' what's the old guy gonna do? Gum you to death?
“... right, yeah,” said the gunman eventually, though it took a considerable effort. He had paused mid-kick and now lowered his foot, but not before nudging the motionless Smithers.
“C'mon, let's go and get the truck ready. They're not going anywhere.”
“Right.”
With one final kick at Smithers, the two attackers disappeared, leaving a stunned Burns alone with his assistant, who was lying in a slowly-expanding puddle of his own blood.
Smithers had come out of his ball but was now lying so very still. Burns dropped to his knees next to him and, with shaking hands, carefully pulled the remains of Smithers' glasses from his face, gently brushing leftover shards away.
Smithers... was so pale. Blood was gushing from his nose, which was bent in a most unhealthy way, and was already crusting around his eyebrow from the head wound which had brought him down. A thick red bubble near the corner of his mouth rose and fell with each laboured breath and there was a worrying gurgling coming from his throat. Even now, Smithers' brow was swelling, and there was the start of an ugly bruise forming around his eye.
“Smithers,” whispered Burns, as though the quiet summons would wake him. “I... I'm so sorry. I'm... please wake up, Smithers...” he swallowed, licking his dry lips. “I don't – I don't know what to do!”
Smithers' body spasmed in a sort of retching cough, blood spattering from his mouth across Burns' hands and arms. Panicking, Burns strained to pull Smithers' head up on to his lap; it was all he could think of to stop his assistant choking on his own vomit.
Briefly, Smithers' eyes flickered open. Burns' heart rose with hope, but Smithers didn't appear to be conscious, and with another exhalation that sounded far too close to a death rattle, his eyes closed again, his body limp and lifeless. If not for the slight unsteady movement of his chest with each breath, Burns would have sworn he had died right there in his arms.
There was nothing to listen to but the rasping sound of Smithers' shallow breathing and the heavy footsteps of a returning kidnapper as a truck engine revved to life. Burns clutched at Smithers, refusing to leave him, no matter the cost.
                                                             oOo
Waylon awoke to the sound of birdsong.
Even without opening his eyes, he could feel the warmth of a sun shaft against his face, and the softness of pillows against his head and shoulders. For countless, seemingly endless minutes he lay there, content to listen to the sounds of spring.
Slowly, slowly, his eyes slitted open. Squinting against the onslaught of brightness after so long in the dark, Waylon blinked several times as his vision adjusted. Everything was blurry, out of focus – he didn't have his glasses on, after all – but from what he could tell, he was in... yes, he was in a hospital room. From the size, it was one of those small private rooms off the ward where they put the seriously sick.
Why was he here? Was he sick? He felt... weak, but he couldn't quite remember why...
Waylon rolled his head to the side limply and his breath caught in surprise.
Mr. Burns was sitting on a visitors' chair at his bedside, his head tilted back and mouth wide open as he snored his way through a light sleep. The very sight of him brought memories crashing back – the kidnappers, the gun, the fight, the white-hot pain in his chest as his vision started to fade...
But why was Mr. Burns here...? Come to think of it, how did he get here? The last he remembered, they were being taken away... had Burns managed to get them out?
Almost instinctively, Waylon moved his arm to reach for Mr. Burns, but the instant he moved his left shoulder his chest came alive with sharp, relentless pain, intense enough to take his breath away. A loud moan of discomfort escaped Waylon as he let his arm fall back to the bed and waited for the throbbing to stop.
“Ah – wha - ?” Burns shot bolt upright, woken by Smithers' whimper. He blinked once or twice, disorientated. His eyes were red and his cheeks sunken and hollow, but his gaze landed on Waylon's bed as though he barely dared hope. “Ah... Smithers...? You're awake?”
Slowly, Smithers nodded. Glancing down at himself, he saw that he was propped partially upright in his hospital bed. His chest and left arm both were swathed in bandages and fresh surgical gauze, a line connected his right arm to a medical bag filled with some unknown fluid which was slowly dripping in to him, and he was covered in bruises.  Ha. He looked like someone had tried to use him for a piñata.
“Oh! Smithers, you are awake!” With a note of clear relief in his voice, Burns sat forward. “They said it would be today that the anaesthesia wore off. They said they'd call me, but I don't trust those quacks to give you the attention you need, and I was right, wasn't I? They're nowhere to be seen at all!” His voice lowered a little. “Do you remember?”
“... a little...” croaked Smithers hoarsely. God, why was talking so exhausting? Why was he so short of breath? He tried to sit further up again, but sank back down with another groan as his shoulder screamed in protest.
Burns laid a hand on his chest, careful to avoid the bandages. Smithers could feel the thin fingers trembling against his skin. “Don't try and move, you idiot, you'll have the nurses sedating you again if you keep yelling.”
“Sorry, sir...”
Carefully, Burns picked up a pair of glasses and the world slid in to focus as he manoeuvred them on to Smithers' nose. “I found one of your spares in your work desk,” he offered by way of explanation. “Your other ones are too damaged to repair.”
“Oh.” Smithers paused, catching his breath. “How did you... how did we... escape?”
Burns made a face. “It appears that federal agents become involved in kidnapping cases, and they have, aha, a rather higher degree of competence than our local constabulary. You'd left quite a clear smear of blood on my doorstep. Apparently, it wasn't that hard for the cadaver dogs to track us after that.”
“... cadaver dogs?”
Once again, Burns couldn't quite meet Smithers' gaze. “... from the blood at the mansion, they were fairly convinced there'd be at least one body.”
For several dragging moments, they sat in awkward silence, the only sound the laboured wheeze of Smithers' breathing.
Finally, Burns' head fell into his hands. “I'm... relieved.”
“Sir...?”
“You had me... frantic, Waylon. You... you saved my life, but you so very nearly lost your own.”
“It was... that bad?”
Burns made a noise which could have been a strangled laugh, or possibly a cut-off sob. “That bad? Two black eyes, a concussion, broken nose, dislocated left shoulder, four broken ribs – one fractured, three cracked – punctured lung, ruptured spleen... God, Smithers, I'm – I'm so sorry. If I hadn't been such an uppity fool...”
Waylon was silent. Five broken bones and one dislocation... no wonder he felt as though he had been run over by a tank, and that was before he even touched on the organ damage and the bruising. A punctured lung! That certainly explained the trouble he was having catching his breath!
“You saved my life,” said Burns again. “... thank you.”
“Of course... I'd do anything for you.” Waylon managed what felt like a smile, though through his bruised and swollen face it probably came out looking more like a grimace.
“Yes, yes, because I pay you and it's your job. But for God's sake, Smithers, I don't pay you to die! What would I ever do if you left me?”
Smithers' chest hitched as he let out a shuddering, painful breath. Burns saw it and buried his face in his hands, eyes downcast toward the floor.
“I stood right by, Smithers... you jumped in front of that man for me as he was about to shoot me, and I just stood right by and watched you – I was too much of a coward to even tell them to stop! I know I've treated you ill in the past, but I have never been so in your debt...” his thin frame shivered in what might have been another suppressed sob. “Ask me, Waylon, ask me for something, anything – let me make this up to you...”
“Anything...?” asked Waylon softly.
“Anything,” said Burns, still staring  down at the polished linoleum.
Smithers looked up at the ceiling in silence, his brow furrowed as though he was trying to reach a decision, or possibly search for courage. As the seconds passed, Burns watched him keenly and, finally, those gentle eyes came back down to meet his.
“... a kiss...”
There was a dragging silence.
“Mmph!” Burns sat upright, no longer meeting Smithers' gaze. “I'll – I'm going to fetch the nurse, Waylon. There's – it's – you're still a bit confused.”
As he rose from the chair, however, Burns was stilled by Smithers' hand closing around his wrist. He looked back at his assistant, whose face was scrunched with pain from the movement but who still clung on gamely as though his very life depended on it.
“... please.”
“Anything,” said Burns again, almost desperately. He couldn't be hearing this right, Smithers must still be concussed, or disorientated from the anaesthetic – Smithers must think he was someone else – there was no way –
“Just... a kiss...”
“That's all?”
“Mm...”
Burns stared helplessly as Smithers' hand fell away from his wrist. “Don't you want money? Don't you – you don't want a new house? I can move you out of that poxy little apartment you still squat in! Don't you want a new car, or a – or a –”
He tailed off. Smithers was still watching him tiredly. Burns found he couldn't hold that gaze for very long. The guilt had gnawed at him for the whole while; he'd already been responsible for the death of one Waylon Smithers, after all...
“You just want me to kiss you?” he managed finally, his voice cracking just the smallest amount. The unspoken why? hung heavy in the air.
“Yes.”
Well, he certainly sounded sure. Burns grimaced. Maybe Smithers really was still reeling from that blow to the head? Why would he want to be kissed by Burns? Why would he want to be kissed by Burns?
“And you're sure there's nothing else you'd rather have?”
“Is it... that repulsive...?”
God, Smithers sounded so sad. Burns' hand hovered briefly over one of the bandages before he gripped the bridge of his nose.
“It's... damn it, Smithers, I don't know. I've never even thought about kissing you!”
Smithers closed his eyes. “I'm sorry,” he whispered eventually. Burns only just heard it. “I shouldn't have asked...”
Something ached inside Burns, right where his heart would have been if it hadn't shrivelled with cynicism decades before. What was he doing to this man? To poor Smithers, who had always supported him along the best path; Smithers, who quietly obeyed his every reasonable command and gently chided his unreasonable ones; Smithers, who unhesitatingly tackled a man with a gun for him...
“You're a damn fool, Waylon,” mumbled Burns as he leant over his assistant's bedside, “but I'll be damned if I'm not one too.”
Waylon's eyes flickered open just in time to see Burns' face, with his heavy-lidded eyes and slightly furrowed brow, in the instant before his mouth was captured and the taste of Burns' lips filled his world. Burns pressed a little closer and raised one hand to hesitantly brush his fingers against Smithers' cheek. In that moment, as he closed his eyes fully to commit as much of this wonderful feeling as he could to memory, Smithers knew that, despite the pain and the injuries and the worry, he was very much the happiest man alive.
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