#and doctors to hound about their research

[lucifers-rubber-duck]

𖤓 Can we keep them? 𖤓

Characters: Charlie, Lucifer, Alastor, Angel & Husker.

Warnings: None.

Summary: Reader suddenly appears with a baby Hellhound on their arms and asks to keep them, what would their reactions be?

𖤓Charlie

• She's extremely surprised when you appear with a baby Hellhound on your arms, even more when you asks if you could keep them.

• She would probably say yes without thinking, with her eyes shining of how cute the little dog looks, before she quickly shakes her head and tries to stand her ground better.

• She would probably lecture you of how much of a responsability it is to adopt a Hellhound, especially when they're still little and can't do much by themselfs, she would probably also info dump to you about them.

• She makes you promisse that if you're going to keep them you'll take good care of them, she actually helps a lot since she grew up taking care of Razzle and Dazzle. She acts like the cool aunt of your new baby.

• She's probably the best influence you could get for your child, she's just the sweetest and will help you teach the baby what's right and wrong, will read them bedtime stories, will teach them to sing and to dance. She's simply the best person you could ask for.

𖤓Lucifer

• He's a little confused at first, he never put much thought onto the creatures of Hell, but the moment you show him the cute puppy's face, he's melting and allowing you to keep it.

• He would try to help to take care of them but wouldn't be very good at it, he never did a proper research on the beings of Hell, he disliked sinners already, he saw no reason to even pay attention to the other beings his past actions had created.

• But after you adopt the little hound, he will personaly go talk to Beelzebub and ask her what he should do. He asks her tips, about the best snacks to give them, how many baths should a pup get by a day, he's going full dad mode.

• He doesn't take care of a child since Charlie was little and everytime your new baby runs to his arms when he walks in the room to say hi he's in the verge of tears, he'll hold your child on his arms and act like he's the actual father.

• Don't even think twice if you need anything for your pup, he's going to give it. They got sick and need a doctor? He's calling someone from the Ring of Sloth just for them. Need diapers or clothes? Boom, they're already at your door. Want to take your child somewhere fun? He'll give you two free access to his theme park Lu Lu Land all rights reserved.

• Man is just happy to be able to experience being a father all over again.

𖤓Alastor

• The moment you show him the Hellhound you can hear static piercing your ears and the air getting colder, a green energy coming out of him as his antlers grow bigger and his eyes turn dark with only red dots to be found in them.

• You get that it's a no pretty quickly and hides the puppy away before he can do anything about it.

• But you're not known for giving up easily and keeps the Hellhound even so, making sure they never get too close to Alastor, and by to close I mean in the same room, breathing the same air.

• You'll have to try your best to make Alastor slightly fond of the puppy. First trying to give up some signs that you wanted to adopt a baby, then start talking about all the perks a Hellhound has and then later slowly introduce both of them in the same spaces.

• Is like showing your old pet your newer pet and praying they get along, but the old pet in question is a powerful Overlord that can easily kill both of you and broadcast your screams to all of Hell and the new pet is a creature that is in the bottom of Hell's hierarchy.

• After weeks of trying he would just let you be to be honest, he says you can keep it if you stopped annoying him about and forcing him to interact with them. But sometimes you would find yourself trying to calm him down because the Hellhound decided to walk too close to him or even chewed a part of his coat off.

𖤓Angel

• He probably wouldn't mind and say that you could stay with them, it's not his business, it's yours, you do what you want.

• Would eventualy grow attached to the hound, probably not as much as some others, but he does enjoy their company.

• He likes being the bad influence and would 100% teach your child swear words. He wouldn't be as inappropriate around them tho, he knows his limits and was scolded by you enough times about his actions around such a young figure.

• I think if the hound ended up getting friends with Fat Nuggets he would care more, he treats his little pet pig as his own child and would find it rather adorable if they got along togheter, you know for sure he's snapping photos.

• Likes to play dress up with you and your child, he would already lend you some clothes and help you take care of your skin or paint your nails, etc. He would do the same with your Hellhound, dressing them up to look all fancy, brushing their fur and giving them little accesories. Y'all probably have matching shirts he buyed for fun.

• “Where did you found them again toots?”; “Doesn't matter, check out this new trick they learned.”

𖤓Husker

• Would probably say something like “I'm not your dad, do whatever the fuck you want” and keep going with his day.

• He would try to ignore the Hellhound as much as he can, he doesn't like children very much and his cat instincts can get the best of him sometimes, making him hiss at the sight of the dog.

• But he'll definitely call you out if you end up doing something wrong while taking care of them, he says he doesn't care while teaching you the proper way to hold and to feed them. If you ask how he has so much experience he'll flip you off.

• After some time with the Hellhound around, he'll start to accept babysitting them if you ever need to go out to work or to do a importat thing, don't blame him if the pup ends up learning a bad word tho, you are the one leaving them with a drunk bartender in his bar.

• The Hellhound and him would start to go really well together and you would find them sleeping in the couch of the hotel's lobby when you return late to the hotel thanks to work, your now adopted child sleeping on top of the man's chest, snoring and with Husker's wing around them both.

• You took a photo just to always remember the sweet moments and maybe use against Husker if you needed a favor from him, it always works and you get cute photos so it's always a win-win for you.

[fyxestroll]

Please can you write something with Magnus the Red? Doesn't matter what

pairing: magnus the red x reader (gn.)

warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, descriptions of body horror, angst

notes: tried to make this as gender neutral as possible. please tell me if I missed any feminine terms. first time writing for magnus hope I did him right.

There’s an old saying that “there’s a fine line between genius and insanity.” 

Magnus begged to differ. Genius is insanity, as it is what society labels it so; to break preconceived notions is viewed as insanity.

And then he met you.

You, the brightest pharmacist in all of Tizca with nearly enough accolades to match his.

You, the most insane scholar to ever roam Prospero’s medical institutions.

Prospero was most known for its sorcerers but at the end of the day, it was the land of scholars meaning any and all avenues of knowledge were pursued, including medicine. You, specifically, specialised in concocting medicine from the planet’s flora and fauna to assist in a patient’s physical recovery from psychic maladies.

That was how your paths crossed.

See, the thing with contracting psychic illnesses is that those afflicted have either gone mad or are days away from passing on. Ignoring ethical concerns—but you always cared about those, the latter were too unpredictable and the former would rather spend their final days with their loved ones which left you without any test subjects.

So you decided you would become the test subject. 

And you had proudly proclaimed so when proposing your research to him. He had baulked at the proposition. It was suicidal, and while Magnus is the last person to preach about caution, he wasn’t the one running around asking for money to consume poison.

He rejected it the second you finished your presentation.

In response, you continued to push, hounding him like a dog. You were practically there at every turn approaching him with passionate—— near manic eyes. He continued to reject you for years, hoping you would eventually wear yourself out, but that never happened.

Instead, he became your research partner.

Somehow, you had managed to convince him, and somehow he had let himself be convinced.

Maybe that was a sign of what was to come, a sign that that partnership would grow into something more.

Or maybe he was just as insane as you.

No, that’s not right, isn’t it? You always made far better decisions than him. Always.

Either way, the endeavour was a success, and together, you discovered several treatments in quick succession. You went on to open a clinic; it was a humble place compared to the towering pyramids that overshadowed it, and on the day of its grand opening, you asked him to marry you. 

Right. In. Front. Of. Everybody.

And he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

You became his, his partner in study and in life. Magnus was never one to believe in blessings, but you were his, and he couldn’t imagine a world where he didn’t meet you. It was a good marriage, all things considered. Propsero prospered under your care; you and he were at your happiest, and that didn’t change when his Father, his progenitor, finally came for him. You simply became a parent to his legion, to his Thousand Sonds.

Sadly, by his fault, it was short-lived.

He sought to resolve the issue of the Flesh Change that plagued his legion and paid a far heavier price than he thought.

In the beginning, you had joined him in looking for a cure. 

But his legion, his sons, continued to die. 

Bit by bit, he watched as your hope for a cure dwindled. It broke you; you, the brightest star in Prospero, the doctor who cured the incurable.

“We’ve know that this illness is connected to the Great Ocean,” you had said, looking over the cadaver of a legionnaire, an apothecary who had ended his life as soon as the symptoms of the Change worsened, “But its cause is unknown and those affected are not limited to the physchically gifted of your gene-line.” 

You looked to him, forlorn, “I’m starting to believe there is no cure. We simply do not have enough knowledge about the Great Ocean to find one.”

He should have left it at that, grieved those lost and shifted his focus to palliative care. 

But he didn’t.

Giving up did not mean you would abandon the pursuit—not even the Emperor Himself could stop you from attempting to save a life, and the research would simply be put on the back burner. He knew you had hoped that if you did not find a cure yourself in the present, you would in the future, if not, years down the line, someone would. 

You had the patience to wait.

Magnus did not.

You were always his better half.

He delved into the Depths of the Great Ocean against his better judgment and his Father’s warnings. Then It came along and It offered a deal—a cure in exchange for a piece of his soul and a piece of his flesh.

He took it, and you paid the price.

You see, when he married you, he tied his soul to yours. It was a vow of loyalty in that he would have no other but you. However, to those who looked into the Warp, they would see the two of you as one, entwined forevermore.

When he Resurfaced he had found you screaming as you attempted to claw your eyes out. Only, you had no eyes, just smooth skin where they should have been. 

The same happened to your mouth, days later. 

Next week, your ears.

By the end of the month, you were nothing but a sack of conscious flesh with a hole for a nose.

The rest of your body was in similar condition. Limbs multiplied or disappeared, and bones rearranged themselves under your skin. His best apothecaries could find no source for this unknown affliction, but Magnus knew.

He was paying his dues.

A piece of your flesh. A piece of your soul.

You suffered for months, physically screaming out in pain, begging him to put you out of your misery. He couldn’t, he couldn’t bear to let you go. You were his better half and he could not accept that he had done this to you.

He promised you a cure. 

That was for naught.

One night, you fell silent, your soul disappeared. 

To where?

Magnus does not know.

Ten millennia later, your soul still eludes him.

Perhaps, it is better this way.

Prospero, your beloved Prospero was razed and now it was being rebuilt. However, gone were the beautiful gardens, sprawling plazas and towering pyramids of Tizca instead, there was only a great war forge. 

Every bit of his homeworld will play its part in the great game.

And you would hate that.

Your clinic, your research would no longer be used for cures but to create the ailments. Some would say such an act would be more befitting for the followers of the Plaguefather but the Changer of Ways appreciated such twists of fate.

In this way, you, his beloved,  would be remembered.

You would hate this.

You would hate him.

[turtletaubwrites]

Numbers Game ~ Chapter 37

The Man of Your Dreams

Pairings: Cross Guild Polycule x Shanks x Fem!Reader x ???

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 6k+

Ao3 Link

Ongoing Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

Chapter Tunes: Teenage Dream (Cover) ~ Fractures | Fake it ~ Holy White Hounds

Summary: Your favorite shipwright has earned his private date.

Ch. 36 Recap: Detailed recap is directly below the cut!

Author's Note: I was really nervous about this one, so I hope you enjoy it! Also, I hope my research on boats was adequate. I grew up by the ocean, but I like being on the cliffs watching the waves. I think I watched Titanic when I was too young, lol. Boats are scary 😅

Dark Content Warning: I haven't marked any dark content for this chapter, but this is the reader's date with Iceburg. If you are hesitant to read it, I've added a detailed summary of the chapter in the end notes.

Also, I hope everyone remembers the tag/warning: Cross Guild Boys are VILLAINS. It’s been there since day one, so 🤷‍♀️

Alternate POV Symbols:

🌲 ~ Reader | 🐊 ~ Crocodile | 🗡 ~ Mihawk | 🤡 ~ Buggy | 🔴 ~ Shanks | ⏰ ~ Flashbacks for listed POV | ⚫ ~ Scenes depicting Dark Content as listed in Author's Notes

!!! SPOILER WARNING !!! Fic currently contains spoilers for up to chapter 1064 or episode 1093. As we get further into Egghead Arc where our lovely boys are showing up more, there will be more spoilers as time goes on. Sorry y'all, I'm trying to keep most spoilers small details, but Cross Guild is endgame, lol.

Rating/Warnings: Author May Choose to Exclude some Warnings to Avoid Spoilers for Certain Chapters, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Use of Y/N, Dark Content, Blood & Violence, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Dissociation, Mental Illness, Grief, Hospitals, Doctors, Mental Health Treatment, Toxic Family, Childhood Trauma, Swearing, Alcohol, Cigars, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Guilt, Drama, Jealousy, Manipulation, Pet Names, Power Imbalance, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Threats, Relationship Drama, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Shameless Shameless Smut, Uncle Cedrick Has Become His Own Warning, Death of an Unnamed Character, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

Ch. 36 Recap:

Buggy felt guilt that he wasn't telling the truth of what reader had said to her sister, but asked Crocodile if he would believe him and leave her alone if he said she was happy.

Crocodile worried about his clown, before fighting of rage at the thought that she was happy with Iceburg.

Mihawk found a smuggling ring in Doerena, and took a break from his violent hunt for information on the feed to watch his little rabbit on the screen. He thought he saw a flash of rage in her eyes, and promised to help her "paint it red."

Shanks gained an advantage in the Hunt after speaking with the Concealer. Giberson used a jamming snail to give them privacy, and offered to tell him about his competition because Giberson wanted to bet on the winning horse. Shanks learned that Iceburg and Katakuri were his toughest competition, and struggled with the fact that Iceburg didn't have much dirt on him, and didn't seem phased by his threats.

You enjoyed your date with Ichiji, but even happier to learn that your sister seemed to be enjoying time with his sister Reiju even more. You tried not to feel hopeful, but you kept finding little moments of thinking that you might end up with a decent life. Uncle Cedrick still found ways to humiliate and torture you, but all you could think of now was the date with Mr. Iceburg. You decided that you didn't care what kind of man he was. You wanted to enjoy this.

A flashback showed reader in her father's office while he spoke to Mr. Iceburg over snail. She was flustered by the praise Iceburg shared for her, and her dad suggested that they would see him soon. Iceburg reminded Arbo to wait until storm season passed.

Yonji won the next private date.

Cracker taunted the Vinsmokes until Niji retaliated, and they were both kicked out of the Hunt. Cracker encouraged reader to choose Katakuri because he likes her, and they would protect her.

Now only Yonji is left without a private date and the only Hunters left are: Shanks, Iceburg, Katakuri, Ichiji, and Yonji.

The Man of Your Dreams

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

The golden sky cleared your mind, adding to the mystical gleam of the boat that shouldn’t exist. There were no stars yet, but the redwood trees surrounding the lake seemed like a sacred chalice, ready and waiting for the night to pour in.

“You alright, girlie?”

Your own laughter brought you back, too real, too filled with awe at the beautiful dream you’d stepped into. Time was absent until you shook yourself enough to realize that you were really here.

“She’s beautiful,” you thanked your favorite shipwright.

“You know, the best way to get to know a boat is to sail her,” Mr. Iceburg hummed as he squeezed your hand, his eyes soft while he scanned your face. “Would you feel comfortable sailing Eve further out? I checked for snails already, but I’d like to get away from the noise.”

You didn’t want the real world: the old memories and fears, or the gluttonous leeches along the shore, their squeals carrying over the light breeze.

“Why didn’t you say we’d be sailing,” you scolded with a smile. His eyes warmed at your tone, and you fought not to bounce on your toes after you kicked off your heels. “The dress I almost picked would have been a pain to sail in.”

“Mm, well, it all worked out,” he laughed, making you gasp when he pulled your hand up to spin you. “This dress suits you. Now hop to it, numbers girl, our dinner will get cold if we don’t get moving.”

True laughter poured from you while you flew across the deck. Following his instructions felt so freeing, until your body sank into old movements, coaxing the light breeze to help you drift away into the center of the lake.

You couldn’t be mad at the light sheen of sweat on your skin when he helped you tie up the sails, his lovely fingers brushing a bit of hair from your face as you finished up.

“I’ll be right back,” Iceburg promised after guiding you to the cushioned bench along the stern. Thoughts crept in too fast, and you almost ran after him while you waited under the darkening sky.

Nothing’s real. Nothing matters. Just this.

“Sorry for the wait, girlie. You still like spicy food, right?”

Mr. Iceburg pushed a pretty cart between you, and your thoughts went away again while you dined, falling into laughter and light topics to keep the world at bay.

It was such a strange, sweet feeling to be here with him.

“Would you like to take a tour below deck,” he offered. Tempted.

“Yes, please.”

You were so, very eager.

Who cares if he’s a monster, a leech? I want to feel this. Something good. A daydream to keep for later when the world goes dull and dark.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🤡🐊🤡🐊~~~

Water 7 was a shit place for devil fruit users, but if she was there, if she was happy….

Buggy could find her.

I’ll just steal my ear back. Pretend it never happened.

“What do you need right now, little clown?”

“I need her to be happy.”

Crocodile wasn’t good at this.

He could spoil people, but caring for them was strange, especially when his own rage and fear sharpened his tongue too much.  

Especially after endless hours of watching her torture projected on the wall, helpless to save his sweet girl from the past or the present.

“Do you think that Sylvad is just going to let her be happy,” the scarred man growled, eyes clenching shut at the thought of that taunting voice that had kept calling Y/N at the asylum each time she tried to face her fears.

Regret filled him while he met the tired, empty eyes of his little clown, but Crocodile couldn’t stop his own pitiful bargaining, his own worthless hopes.

“Even if she wants to be with Iceburg, Cedrick might—"

“I’ll just keep listening. Until the curtains drop.”

Buggy let out a soft gasp at the touch of a large hand pulling him close, but he allowed himself to be pressed against that chest, that warm silk such a comforting sensation now.

“She loves you, little clown,” the scarred man breathed. He would not let this be defeat.

He would not let his lovers stay broken, even if he had to break his own heart, his own mind to change this.

“Of course she does,” Buggy agreed, his voice too soft before he curled up against Crocodile, letting himself be held.

~~~🤡🐊🤡🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

The cruising sailboat was large enough for the blue-haired shipwright to stand comfortably below deck and each step into the warmly lit space sped your pulse, hardly able to hear his deep voice while he showed off his work.

“It’s been a long time, but I’ve kept her maintained for you,” Mr. Iceburg shared while he guided your hand to press along the lovingly carved embellishments that seemed pulled from your dreams and fantasies. Eve seemed to have been built from your mind before you’d lost it all.

And here he was, the man of your dreams.

You hadn’t heard a word he’d said, but you knew he was talking about his work, that slow, peaceful smile on his face. His warm hand still held your wrist, pressing your hand along the counter in the kitchen area before sitting beside you on the cushioned bench.

He was here with you, and you lost yourself when he leaned close to meet your eyes.

“Y/N, I need— “

You needed this. You needed to disappear into daydreams, so you rushed, pressing your lips against his.

It was barely a kiss, but your lovely dream shattered when Mr. Iceburg pulled himself away, out of your reach on that pretty bench he’d carved.

“Whoa, hey, girlie,” he soothed. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Why?”

The parade of stupid feelings that ran through you made no fucking sense.

He doesn’t want me.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he hurried, patting you on the shoulder. “I didn’t… That’s not why I’m here.”

Humiliation followed that little heartbreak, yet something far more palatable, but far more dangerous followed close behind.

“Just here for the berry then,” you spat,” your control shattering along with that lovely dream. “Or did Uncle promise you a few forests too?”

“Well, he did say—but that’s not…”

Fuck. Stop. Don’t let him see.

“So, you’re not a monster, just a leech.”

Sick, angry laughter escaped you. Laughter that could ruin everything.

“Y/N,” the leech breathed, that deep, dreamy voice making you want to scream.

“I should have known,” you snarled, your mind still begging you to stop, to hide. “You were never his friend, were you? Just humored the rich asshole so you could line your own pockets. Is that why you never came to visit after he… Couldn’t get shit from me until now, could you?”

The boat was too small for your rage, and you pressed yourself against the wall while you shook, grinding your teeth to keep from crying.

“I am so sorry, Y/N,” the shipwright implored, his pained face making your mind ache with too many fucking things. “I should have come sooner. I knew something wasn’t right. I knew…”

Nails dug into your own forearms to stay here, but it only worked a bit. You pulled your legs up to hug them to you and huffed a laugh at the thought of the too-tight dress you’d almost worn for him.

“Mmsorry,” you slurred, eyes looking nowhere while you gave a weak smile. “Forests are nice. Everyone can be nice in a forest. We can pretend.”

“Shh, it’s okay.”

His voice was so deep.

He didn’t touch, but he was close while your head fell back, and you hummed from the thought of your favorite shipwright beside you.

“I don’t want berry, Y/N,” that voice promised such lovely lies. “I came here to help you. Please, tell me what Cedrick’s done. I know Arbo wouldn’t want this. He wanted you—”

Danger clawed you back into the world, fear reminding you that you were real.

That you didn’t have the luxury of giving in.

Clearing your throat, you noticed the crease between his brows when you shook yourself back to reality.

“Uncle Cedrick is following dad’s wishes.” You spoke clearly, and your sudden steadiness seemed to build that confusion in his eyes. “Thank you for your concern, Mr. Iceburg, but if you do not want to marry me for love, lust, or money, then you should leave. I am trying to find a husband.”

Iceburg held your gaze too long and if you weren’t still distant, you might have caved under his silent scrutiny.

“I tried to visit,” he admitted softly.

Your dream was pulling you down, dragging you into nightmares, but you couldn’t hold your face calm and beg him to stop at the same time.

“They wouldn’t—I kept asking why you were missing, why you weren’t at the funeral, or back at school. After a few weeks, I was going to report… I should have reported them.”

He came toward you slowly, stopping before touching your hand. You could barely see him through your wide eyes, lined with the sting of tears you needed to fight.

“Then they told me about the call,” Iceburg nearly choked, the pain on his face making your fingers scrape into your skin. “Cedrick and Delaine were afraid that seeing me would trigger you because he was on his way… I am so sorry, Y/N.”

Your head was shaking back and forth as part of you screamed inside your head to run, to leave, until rough, gentle fingers finally touched your hand.

“I should have kept trying, but after Tom was executed, I lost myself in my work, in keeping his dream alive.” He bowed his head while you tried to find a way to feel. Those fingers on your skin were the only anchor you could find. “I am ashamed of my cowardice. I was afraid that you would be scared of me, that you would hate me. That it really was my fault he was out there that night…”

stop please stop please stop

There was no way to make him stop, the word unable to push through the choking pressure in your throat.

“I stopped asking,” Mr. Iceburg confessed while he squeezed your hand, “until a few years ago. One of my interns got a little too drunk and said something that made me start asking again.”

“Stop,” you hissed, too soft and slow to change anything.

“Kev said he gave up the perfect girl for his dream. That he missed her, but that he couldn’t say no to—”

“No.”

Iceburg finally stopped, his gaze too heavy. Too real.

His voice was almost demanding now, distant, firm.

“What has Cedrick done, Y/N? It made sense with your trauma why you would wait a few years. Then I assumed he wanted you to finish school first, but you still haven’t taken over. Arbo told me he wanted you—”

“Dad wanted me to get married first, Mr. Iceburg,” you taunted, your voice teetering between a purr and a snarl. “Are you going to help me with that or not?”

Iceburg’s lips parted in gentle shock, and you laughed, fighting for control.

Another pause was so long that you let your head fall back against the wall while you counted the planks of wood above you, timing the numbers with your breath.

“I thought that might be it, although I found it hard to believe that Arbo would…. But it does confirm my suspicions. Cedrick paid Kev off, didn’t he,” Iceburg declared, his conviction making you cringe. “And your girlfriend? I looked for her after you broke up. I wanted to ask her what happened, to be sure.”

“I don’t,” you trailed off, wanting to run away from this stupid, real world.

“There’s no trace of her, Y/N. It’s been a year and half, and I still can’t find anything. Do you know what happened to—”

“She was fake,” you snarled now, angry laughter spilling from your lips when his eyes widened. “Kev was just weak, just a kid. Pathetic.”

“Y/N,” he soothed, but you didn’t let those lovely fingers touch yours again, clenching your fists above your thighs.

First love had his name back.

Second love never had one.

“I figured it out too late,” you laughed again, manic hate ripping through you along with your memories. “I tried to find her too. I didn’t want to believe it. I was an idiot. She was too perfect. She was everything I wanted, everything… She was a fucking con artist. Pretend. It’s all pretend!”

The voice that left your throat seemed to slice you into pieces on its way out. It felt like you would die from the effort it took not to fight, to hurt, not to let him see how broken you truly were.

“I am so sorry,” Mr. Iceburg sat back, his pity, and his hands rubbing along your shaking arms sinking you out of rage until stillness and silent tears were all you could feel.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

“I’m just going to freshen up,” you purred, pulling your hand out of your date’s insistent fingers.

“Don’t be too long,” he demanded while he snapped those fingers to get the server’s attention. “I’d like to buy you a new dress before we get to the theater. You look lovely, but that’s a little low cut for the opera, don’t you think?”

“Thank you, I’ll be right back.”

This fucker was pushing your smile to its limits, and you needed a break before you shoved his diamond-studded tie pin into his throat.

~~~⏰🌲~~~

The bathroom was a headache-inducing mix of white marble and pale pink and gold accents and probably cost more to build than your entire apartment complex. Your reflection still fit, so you calmed yourself by calculating the hours, the minutes, and the seconds until the date would be over.

It had been a while, and if you waited too long before trying, mom would start to nag you, until Uncle Cedrick would find some way to force you into another boring date with another boring leech.

“The opera will be over in about eight thousand one hundred seconds, and if it takes another half an hour to get away from him, and twenty-three minutes to get home, then that’ll be about eleven thousand two hundred eighty—”

“Wow, that sounds like a really good time.”

“Fuck, uh, sorry,” you yelped when you opened your eyes, gawking at the woman that had interrupted your pathetic whispers.

It was your server, smirking at you while she blocked the door.

“Why the fuck are you sorry?” She made a face at you, untying the long, black apron she wore over her uniform. That uniform distracted you enough that you forgot to answer, just stared at the gorgeous woman while she slinked toward you.

Men shouldn’t wear tuxedoes anymore. She owns them now; you thought with a smile.

Then your mind went blank.

“I think you deserve some fun after the shit date I just watched,” your second love tempted. She grabbed your chin, and the touch of her fingers made you gasp while she examined you. “Wanna get out of here, cutie?”

She made another face, raising a lovely brow while she dared you to say yes. There was suddenly nothing in the world but this ugly bathroom and your need to impress this stunning woman.

“Yes, but—”

“Don’t worry about that creep,” she laughed, her sultry voice sending shivers over your skin. “He won’t see us.”

Laughter bubbled out of you now, and you swallowed it down before it could echo in that marble box.

“But aren’t you working? What about your job?”

She jerked her head, motioning for you to help before responding.

“Fuck this job. You know that rich asshole didn’t even tip?”

Your second love laughed while she climbed onto the heavy side table you’d dragged below the window, and her offered hand seemed like a dream.

“Are you coming, cutie?”

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

There was a blanket over you when your breath finally calmed. Mr. Iceburg was still holding your hand, and you didn’t know how long you’d let yourself be lost.

“I’m sorry.”

“Gods, please don’t be sorry, Y/N,” he huffed a laugh, soft and sad. “I’m sorry it took me so long to see you. I wish I had been there for you. Please, let me know how I can help. How can I get you out of this?”

A sigh left you, true grief now that the real world had shattered your pretty dream.

“Where’s the bathroom?”

~~~🌲~~~

Your reflection wasn’t as horrifying as you’d expected. The makeup that had trailed down your cheeks along with dangerous tears was easy to wipe away, and your hair was already mussed from sailing, so you let it be.

Even after all of that, the piece of you that held that sweet crush won out. He didn’t want you, and you’d just fallen apart in front of him, but…

He was still Mr. Iceburg, and you wanted to look good for him.

“I made you some tea,” his voice found you before he did, his eyes pouring over you when you met him in the living area. He stood to guide you to a couch, and his gentle touch along your hair made you want to drift away, just sleep it all away.

His heat on the couch beside you felt so soothing.

Right now is good. Just be here right now.

“Girlie, I…”

That voice brought your eyes to his, but you wished that it would be light again.

“I don’t know if we’ll get another chance to talk like this. Please, tell me how to help you. Tell me how to stop him,” your favorite shipwright begged.

“Can you pretend?” It was barely a sound. You knew you shouldn’t try, shouldn’t hope. Hope could kill you, break you more than any pain. But the compassion that radiated from him was too strong to resist. “I need to get married. I know you don’t want me, but if we…” 

His frown drained the energy from you, so you let that hope go.

“There has to be a way to stop this, Y/N, let me help you.”

You smiled at him now, soft and true, deepening the frown on his concerned face.

“Thank you for trying, Mr. Iceburg, but I need you to leave. I will not leave this island until I get married.”

“Y/N, please. What has he done? I’ll help you. All of Galley-La will help you. Just tell me.”

Iceburg turned on the couch to grip your shoulders, imploring you to let him die for you. For nothing.

“Take me back,” you tried to command. You tried to protect this long-lost dream, this perfect man. A sick, selfish girl wasn’t worth the world losing someone like him, but you were weak, your Sylvad smile failing you when your voice cracked. “Please, I want to go back.”

“Girlie,” he breathed, and the touch of his hands on your face broke you down. Your favorite shipwright caught your tears again, pulling you against him while your silent grief left salt along his chest. “I will not abandon you again.”

Letting out a sigh, you enjoyed his touch for one more greedy moment before pulling yourself back.

I won’t be selfish again.

“You don’t need to feel guilty. Dad was out there because he trusted his numbers too much. It wasn’t your fault he didn’t wait.”

He held himself silent, but you didn’t give in this time, breathing out the pain in those memories.

“I am exactly where I want to be, Mr. Iceburg, and I will truly hate you if you interfere.”

“Please— “

“Thank you for the date, and for this beautiful gift,” you smiled as you stood. It was time to wake up. “I’m ready to— “

“Marry me, Y/N. I’ll do whatever it takes,” he vowed. You should have walked away, but the sight of Mr. Iceburg on his knees for you made you gasp. “I don’t want you to be forced into this, but if marrying you is the only way I can save you, then I will win this game. Please, let me take you away from here.”

It was laughable how pathetic you were, and the choked sound you let out made him grip your hands in his, chaining you to wicked hope.

It would be stupid to let hope in, to think you could be free. You were nearly broken already.

It would be stupid to reject the offer. If he really…

It was absolutely idiotic how disappointed you were that Mr. Iceburg hadn’t come here to take you, to use you, to let you disappear into lust and burn all of that stupid hope away.

“I don’t want you forced into this either,” you finally answered in a small voice. “Not if you don’t want— “

“Y/N, I would be a lucky man to have you by my side.” Your favorite shipwright let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping a bit while he gazed at you. “It only fuels my guilt. I left my friend’s child to suffer for years, and now that I finally have the courage to face you, I see that child has grown into… I failed you, girlie. I don’t deserve to be rewarded for it.”

His strong hands were still trapping yours, squeezing slightly as his last words came out in a rasp. You couldn’t understand, until a soft, dangerous hope flooded back in. There was no way to stop it, so you just braced for that naïve crush to crush you.

“I’m not a child, Mr. Iceburg,” you declared, surprised by your own wistful smile when you fought the urge to roll onto your toes. His eyes softened before you pulled your hands from his grip. “And I am not a reward.”

“Y/N, I…”

Just this moment. A little daydream.

He let you guide his hands to your cheeks, those carpenter’s fingers cradling your face. The sensation was enough to make you sigh, your knees going weak.

“Hey, girlie,” that deep voice poured over you. “I’m here. Please, tell me how I can help.”

Your eyes fluttered open, and you didn’t care if you were crushed now. Something sweet, almost electric, sang through your body until every piece of you was humming.

“Marry me,” you breathed, letting him see the heat in your eyes, the need in your desperate body while you swayed beneath those rough, gentle fingers. “I want you, Iceburg. This is my choice. If you want me too, please, take me. I want you to take me, to touch me, to—"

Mr. Iceburg was kissing you.

He’d pulled you against his chest while he tasted you, so slow and thorough that your eyes rolled back. He hummed at your little noises, and the sound was so deep, it left you shaking, clutching at him until you let out a yelp.

“Oh my,” Iceburg laughed when he pulled away slightly, one of his hands on your hip to keep you steady while you stared at the little creature you’d almost crushed with your desperate fingers in that striped jacket. He held Velociraptor up to the dimmed light before smiling that perfect smile at you. “I’m so sorry, I forgot to put him in his enclosure.”

“I’m sorry, buddy,” you laughed, petting the mouse before Iceburg stood, offering you his hand once again. The smile he gave you now caught your breath, offering something that you ached to have.

“There’s one more room to see, numbers girl. Would you like to drop him off and finish our tour?”

~~~🌲~~~

Biting your lip against the urge to squeal and rush toward the cabin kept you quiet, but watching Iceburg caring for his pet made you melt.

He was just so sweet. So silly. So fucking sexy.

Oh, that crush was back.

“I hope you like it,” Iceburg gestured to the cabin. The soft lights picked up the veins in his forearm along with the carved images along the walls. “Please let me know if you’d like me to make any changes—”

“It’s beautiful,” you smiled, happy to speak the truth. The cabin was stunning, so much redwood carved into fantastical creatures in magical forests. The touch of the raised wood felt so soothing under your palms; the familiar scent of the room made you feel safe.

The berth could be two smaller mattresses, or one triangular bed. The edges were together at one point, with another triangular section that you enjoyed watching Iceburg lock into place between them before he sat on the dark, green bedding.

 “Y/N, I am going to marry you, no matter what. We don’t need to—”

“Please, don’t make me say all that over again,” you teased, stepping between his legs.

He stared at you, his eyes so heavy that you thought it was over.

“What if I want you to say it again?” Your favorite shipwright chuckled when you moaned from the sound of his voice, and his strong hands gripped your waist when you swayed. “Will you say it again for me, girlie? Tell me what you want?”

“Fuck, I…”

Iceburg left his request along your ear as he breathed you in, pulling back to watch your eyes while you tried to remember how to speak.

His eyes were dark, a look you had never seen there before.

And you wanted more.

“I want you, Iceburg, please,” you begged, shamelessly begged. He kept staring, just a bit of movement at the corner of his lips while you fell apart. “I want you to take me, to fuck me. I want…”

“There’s not enough time for me to fuck you tonight, girlie,” he broke your heart with a satisfied laugh. “But I’ll—”

“Please, Iceburg,” you scolded, trying to forget the world outside of this lovely dream. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and teased your fingers along the undercut that suited him so well. “We’re getting married, so you can fuck me as slow and thorough as you like for the rest of our days, but for right now I want you to fucking take me.”

“Mm, well,” he hummed before his rough, gentle fingers teased under your dress. He took in a sharp breath, eyes darker than ever while he rubbed over your clit, your panties already soaked from him. “If that’s what my fiancé wants, then that’s what she’ll get.”

“Fuck! Iceburg, please,” you cried out at the perfect stretch of the two fingers he’d just plunged into you, sliding around your panties with a skilled touch that made you stumble against him. He sat you on one of his thighs but never stopped.

“Come on my fingers first, then I’ll give you everything you—Mm, that’s it, girlie. Fuck, you’re gorgeous, Y/N.”

“Don’t stop,” you managed to beg while he laid you down on that bed he’d carved for you.

He helped your struggling fingers, freeing you from your clothes before stripping, and your mouth was gaping by the time he crawled up the bed.

It was Mr. Iceburg.

Naked.

“Are you sure—”

“Yes, please,” you reached for him.

Your mind went blank at the touch of that perfect cock in your hands, and the deliciously deep moan it had earned you. Then you whined, when he pulled out of your reach.

“No time for that,” Iceburg teased you, and you couldn’t take it. You melted at the touch of those hands, letting him guide you where he wanted, until he was smiling down at you between your spread legs. “But I promise you…”

“Oh gods, oh f—fuck.”

The way he was looking at you…

The way his cock felt when he teased the tip around your clit before shoving into you…

“I promise that the next time I fuck you, I will be thorough,” Iceburg threatened over your moans as he slammed his thick cock into your desperate cunt. He snapped his hips up, hitting you so fucking deep that it hurt, but he had you coming again before you could care, while you scraped your nails down the lovely, purple tattoos that graced his shoulders and arms. “I will touch and taste every little piece of you. We’ll take it nice and slow, huh, girlie?”

Iceburg pulled your hips up, those incredible fingers holding you in place so he could fuck himself into you.

“Mm, you’re going to take it slow for me tonight, aren’t you?”

“What,” you managed to choke out while he changed position.

“The wedding won’t be for another week or so.” The shipwright made your eyes roll back when he brought a thumb down to dance over your clit, making you twitch while he took you, just like you’d begged for. “So, I want my fiancé to prepare for our wedding night. I want you to play with yourself tonight and every night, nice and slow, and think about how thorough I’m going to be when I fuck my wife.”

“Ice…”

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” Iceburg panted before kissing you deep, keeping you in this lovely dream. “Can I come on your pretty stomach, girlie? Mm, come one more time for me first, I know you can—So good, fuck. Right here.”

You were twitching with so much pleasure, your legs still spasming when he pulled out of you, only to press the length of that swollen cock against your skin.

It was too much. The look on his face, the praise he moaned for you, the feel of his twitching cock, and the ropes and ropes of his come that painted your skin kept you going until you went limp.

Bells rang out, far too close over the water.

“Fuck,” you whimpered.

“Don’t worry,” your favorite shipwright hummed, already cleaning you gently, and refusing to let you get up yet. His deep voice, and light kisses sent shivers down your body, but the real world was getting louder. “I’ve got you.”

You wished you could hang onto all those feelings, but it was turning gray. It would be a lovely daydream for later, but right now, you were going numb. You had to.

“Hey, girlie,” Iceburg tugged on your hand before you could leave the cabin, and you turned to find him smiling, your locket dangling from one of his lovely hands. You nodded at his gesture, letting him wrap that chain of guilt and brightness around your throat again.

Don’t think. Stop thinking.

“Looks like we were thorough enough to lose your jewelry in the sheets,” he laughed while he took your hand to guide you back to the world. “You should probably take it off next time. I’d hate to make you lose something so pretty while I fuck my pretty wife.”

~~~🌲~~~

Such a lovely dream.

If only it could have lasted forever or destroyed the world when it ended.

You couldn’t hang onto the incredible feelings and dangerous hope your favorite shipwright had filled you with, and you couldn’t follow his intoxicating orders.

Your fingers couldn’t reach for pleasure tonight.

Instead, your fingers clung to guilt and brightness while you sobbed over too many broken dreams.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴 ~~~

His image wasn’t spread across a screen, but the Emperor of the Sea could feel the eyes on him while he lounged at a little table by the lake. He’d only had one bottle so far, but the stench of self-pity that surrounded him made him feel sicker than wine ever had.

Time to move.

He could have moved faster, but it would look like an attack.

Shanks could kill him.

The red-haired pirate was having too many thoughts.

Just move. There he is.

Iceburg had finally left that pretty sailboat after staying behind when Y/N was whisked away in a fluffy robe. Applause rang out from the drunk, disgusting leeches as she went.

Shanks could kill them all.

Not yet.

“So, what did you think,” the villain purred, tasting a hint of pleasure at the tension in his prey’s shoulders when he crept up behind him. “Your best friend’s daughter is so precious. So very sweet, huh?”

Iceburg rounded on him, only to meet his gaze, silent and judging.

“Or did you prefer her back then,” Shanks taunted, letting himself enjoy the snarl on the other man’s lips. His enemy pulled it in, so he kept pushing. “I had to try sooo hard not to break her, but she is an eager, little thing, isn’t she? Did you train her for us all those years ago?”

“Keep talking.”

Now it was Shanks’ lips that twitched into a snarl as he stood off against a wall of ice.

“I just thought I should thank you.” He fought not to choke the man that was besting him, and knew he’d have to walk away soon to keep from doing it. “I never did like them so young, but whatever you did to her worked wonders. Did you teach her that little—”

“Come on, boys, we’re all friends here.”

That sickeningly satisfied voice froze them both before Cedrick Sylvad stepped between them with his guards close behind. He gestured back toward the crowd, and toward the screens that showed off the rage in the emperor’s eyes, and the coldness in his enemy’s gaze.

“It’s so good to see how serious you both are about my dear niece,” the monster beamed. Sylvad threw his arms over their shoulders, forcing them to walk with him, to smile with him, as though they weren’t a breath away from violence. “Honestly, it warms my heart. I wonder if either of you will pierce hers.”

Y/N’s wicked uncle laughed, pleased with his game.

No matter how it ends, this man needs to die.

Shanks had too many thoughts.

~~~🔴🔴🔴 ~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Rough, gentle fingers kept catching your eyes during breakfast, but you had to stop. Just smile, pretend, the same as all the rest.

“I hope you all come visit us after the wedding,” Iceburg hummed, his confidence raising your sister’s brows, so you faked a sip of your drink before your face could betray you. “We’ve made some improvements on the old boom boat design. I’m certain they’ll speed your logging transport for some of your smaller operations, and they are quite fun to sail. Maybe we can have a race?”

“That sounds lovely, Mayor—”

“Of course,” Cedrick cut your mother off, chuckling as he leaned toward the confident shipwright. “First you need to win this race, old friend. You must have had quite the night to be so confident.”

You had schooled your features, giving your Uncle nothing but your Sylvad Smile.

 “I came here to win,” Iceburg countered, steady and pleased while he raised his glass. “Galley-La and Sylvad’s Lumber & Shipping are a perfect match, and I’m certain that Y/N and I will be the same.”

“At least your priorities haven’t changed,” Uncle Cedrick laughed as he sent you a taunting look. “Wood before women every time, huh?””

“Water 7 is always first,” Iceburg managed his own smile, schmoozing with your Uncle while he spoke with too much truth. “But I’m here to win the woman and the wood that will help me save my home. Help our island sail to safer waters.”

“Cheers,” Uncle demanded, interrupting your spiral to make you toast your favorite shipwright. “Cheers to perfect matches, good deals, and useful, little brides. Good hunting, old friend.”

Those distracting fingers snagged yours from across the table, calming your hurt from being used. Saving Water 7 was a good reason to be bought, a good price for your freedom. You wanted to pay him back for saving you, especially if last night wasn’t really a dream.

Water 7 might be your new home.

The sudden rush of storms within you made your throat dry.

Were you willing to pay the price of freedom if it came with that storm?

Swallowing down your fears was rough with that dryness still closing your throat, but you put it all away. First, you had to survive this twisted hunt.

Then you could face the storm.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you!!

Author's Note: Sooo, maybe one day I'll be able to talk to humans again. This hermit mode episode is quite excessive. Thank you for all of your comments. Hopefully I'll be able to respond soon. Y'all should see my text, voicemail, and email notifications, lol. I was super nervous about this one, as the Iceburg situation could be very triggering. I hope that it didn't cause strain for anyone, but if you chose to skip it, here's a summary of the chapter. Thank you so much for reading and taking care of yourself. Please know that you are not alone, and you deserve to feel safe 💜

Chapter 37 Summary:

Reader wanted to have this date, this daydream, so she kissed her favorite shipwright, only to feel rage when he pulled away. Iceburg stated that he wasn't there for that, so she accused him of only caring about money, asking if that was why he never visited after her father died.

Iceburg confessed that he had tried to visit, that he was concerned about why reader had been missing from the funeral and school, but that he stopped asking after Cedrick and Delaine told him about her father's last call. They told him that it would be triggering for reader to see him. He stated that it made sense that reader would wait after the trauma, but as more time went on, he became suspicious since Arbo told him that he wanted reader to take over.

Iceburg was ashamed of himself for not coming sooner, but his guilt over what happened, and fear that reader would hate him kept him away, and he lost himself in work after Tom was executed. He began asking again after one of his interns drunkenly said something. Reader resisted, but Iceburg stated her first love's name, sharing that "Kev" said he gave up the perfect girl for his dream. Reader revealed that Arbo wanted her to marry before taking over, and Iceburg shared his suspicions that Cedrick paid Kev off.

Iceburg looked for reader's girlfriend after they broke up a year and a half ago, but there was no trace of her. Reader stopped him from saying her name, and said she had looked for her too, only to realize that she was a con artist. A flashback of the reader meeting her second love showed reader stuck in a boring date, and her second love helping the reader go have some fun, offering to help her climb out of a bathroom window. Reader was enamored with the gorgeous woman that called her "cutie."

Reader felt Iceburg didn't want her but said she wouldn't be leaving the island without being married. When he resisted, trying to find another way, reader decided to let him go and told him it wasn't his fault her dad died. She didn't want to get him killed, but Iceburg declared that he would marry her.

After reader said she didn't want him to be forced into this, Iceburg shared that he would be lucky to have her but expressed his guilt. Iceburg said he failed her, and shouldn't be rewarded for it.

Reader realized what he meant, and declared that she was not a child, she was not a reward, and that this was her choice. She expressed her desire for him, and they spent the rest of the date being intimate, while reminding each other that they were going to be married in a week or so.

As the date ended, Iceburg saw that reader's locket had fallen off in the bed, and suggested she take it off next time. After the date, reader couldn't hold onto the good feelings she'd felt that night. Instead, she held onto her locket and cried.

Shanks waited for Iceburg and taunted him about being with the reader in the past. The heavy tension between the two hunters was interrupted by Cedrick wrapping his arms around their shoulders, stating that they were all friends.

During breakfast, Iceburg shared his confidence and described them as a perfect match along with their companies. Cedrick laughed and accused Iceburg of caring about wood before women, but Iceburg said he cared about Water 7 first, and that he was here to win the woman and wood that would help him save his home.

Reader realized with fear that if she did marry him she would move to Water 7, but knew she had to survive the hunt before she could face the storm.

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @caniseethefourthsword | @hey-august | @chaoticqueen33 | @destinationmars | @novakitten0901 | @h0n3y-l3m0n05 | @dorky-birdie | @szired | @pinejayy | @laws-wife-things | @jadeddangel | @gingernut1314 | @urlocaltwink | @blue-rae18 | @bontensbabygirl | @bbnbhm | @0-sparkling-lace-0 | @ihearthazuki | @mikisspeak | @djloveyou3000 | @mercymccann | @horse-and-writer97 | @napagent

Chapter 38

This world is hard, and finding ways to help can be overwhelming. Operation Olive Branch is a volunteer, grassroots effort committed to the collective liberation of all peoples, and they prioritize transparency and community. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of fundraisers, as well as other ways to help.

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

[beardedmrbean]

Few in the media seemed eager to attend a ceremony last week in Washington, D.C., where the prestigious American Academy of Sciences and Letters was awarding its top intellectual freedom award.

The problem may have been the recipient: Stanford Professor Dr. Jay Bhattacharya.

Bhattacharya has spent years being vilified by the media over his dissenting views on the pandemic. As one of the signatories of the 2020 Great Barrington Declaration, he was canceled, censored, and even received death threats.

That open letter called on government officials and public health authorities to rethink the mandatory lockdowns and other extreme measures in light of past pandemics.

All the signatories became targets of an orthodoxy enforced by an alliance of political, corporate, media, and academic groups. Most were blocked on social media despite being accomplished scientists with expertise in this area.

It did not matter that positions once denounced as “conspiracy theories” have been recognized or embraced by many.

Some argued that there was no need to shut down schools, which has led to a crisis in mental illness among the young and the loss of critical years of education. Other nations heeded such advice with more limited shutdowns (including keeping schools open) and did not experience our losses.

Others argued that the virus’s origin was likely the Chinese research lab in Wuhan. That position was denounced by the Washington Post as a “debunked” coronavirus “conspiracy theory.” The New York Times Science and Health reporter Apoorva Mandavilli called any mention of the lab theory “racist.”

Federal agencies now support the lab theory as the most likely based on the scientific evidence.

The Biden administration tried to censor this Stanford doctor, but he won in court

Likewise, many questioned the efficacy of those blue surgical masks and supported natural immunity to the virus — both positions were later recognized by the government.

Others questioned the six-foot rule used to shut down many businesses as unsupported by science. In congressional testimony, Dr. Anthony Fauci recently admitted that the 6-foot rule “sort of just appeared” and “wasn’t based on data.” Yet not only did the rule result in heavily enforced rules (and meltdowns) in public areas, the media further ostracized dissenting critics.

Again, Fauci and other scientists did little to stand up for these scientists or call for free speech to be protected. As I discuss in my new book, “The Indispensable Right,” the result is that we never really had a national debate on many of these issues and the result of massive social and economic costs.

I spoke at the University of Chicago with Bhattacharya and other dissenting scientists in the front row a couple of years ago. After the event, I asked them how many had been welcomed back to their faculties or associations since the recognition of some of their positions.

They all said that they were still treated as pariahs for challenging the groupthink culture.

Now the scientific community is recognizing the courage shown by Bhattacharya and others with its annual Robert J. Zimmer Medal for Intellectual Freedom.

So what about all of those in government, academia, and the media who spent years hounding these scientists?

Universities shred their ethics to aid Biden’s social-media censorship

Biden Administration officials and Democratic members targeted Bhattacharya and demanded his censorship. For example, Rep. Raja Krishnamoorthi (D-Ill.) attacked  Bhattacharya and others who challenged the official narrative during the pandemic. Krishnamoorthi expressed outrage that the scientists were even allowed to testify as “a purveyor of COVID-19 misinformation.”

Journalists and columnists also supported the censorship and blacklisting of these scientists. In the Los Angeles Times, columnist Michael Hiltzik decried how “we’re living in an upside-down world” because Stanford allowed these scientists to speak at a scientific forum. He was outraged that, while “Bhattacharya’s name doesn’t appear in the event announcement,” he was an event organizer. Hiltzik also wrote a column titled “The COVID lab leak claim isn’t just an attack on science, but a threat to public health.” 

Then there are those lionized censors at Twitter who shadow-banned Bhattacharya. As former CEO Parag Agrawal generally explained, the “focus [was] less on thinking about free speech … [but[ who can be heard.”

None of this means that Bhattacharya or others were right in all of their views. Instead, many of the most influential voices in the media, government, and academia worked to prevent this discussion from occurring when it was most needed.

There is still a debate over Bhattacharya’s “herd immunity” theories, but there is little debate over the herd mentality used to cancel him.

The Academy was right to honor Bhattacharya. It is equally right to condemn all those who sought to silence a scientist who is now being praised for resisting their campaign to silence him and others.

[bugs1nmybrain]

First of all, love your writing! I especially love reading your headcanons 😁

Would it be alright to ask for headcanons on how Stein would be with a S/O that’s chronically ill/has a weak immune system? Like winters for them are hell because they know they’re gonna catch a cold come September and coughing fits, doctors visits and medication refills are just apart of their daily routine(may or may not be speaking from experience TTwTT)

🤍⚡️Franken Stein (Soul Eater) x Immuno-compromised Reader 🔩 🩺

I haven't written for Stein in forever!!! I hope I write this with sensitivity! I'll research a bit on it to make sure I write this as accurate as I can.

Warnings: Gender neutral reader, sfw, chronically ill reader, not proofread yet

Mister Doctor man is on the case!

If you don't tell him upfront that you have a weak immune system, he'll notice quick that you seem to be constantly under the weather

Will pry about it, and ask you if this is regular for you

When you tell him that you're chronically ill, it isn't a surprise. He'll help

Stein is proficient in most areas of medical care, so he'll make sure your medications are constantly available to you and even offer to be your personal domestic doctor. You'll tell him it's a conflict of interest as a joke, but he insists

He knows how to make sure you're as comfortable as you can be, making sure you're properly nourished and getting meals that incorporate a proper amount of vitamins

It isn't exactly a cure, but it helps

If you're feel especially sick, he encourages rest. If you need doctors' notes for work or college or the like, he's on it.

He doesn't treat you like you're made of glass or anything because he knows better, but he's definitely vigilant of your symptoms and reminds you to make sure you're taking your medicine and taking it easy if you're having a hard time

Coughing fits don't gross him out and he'll be there to help you feel better however he can

Will hound on treatment regimens

He'll try soooo hard not to ask if he can dissect you

Ofc will remind you to wash your hands regularly, but he knows you're already aware of that. His reminders are more his way of telling you he cares about your wellbeing and that he loves you (don't let him convince you that he doesn't)

If you need someone by your side when you're bedridden, he's there. Even if he has to take off time from work, he will, and don't feel guilty for it. He'll sit beside you and have the silliest conversations with you, whether they are theoretical or just casual talk. If you win him over he'll snuggle, but this man is TALL so get yourself a big bed, okay?

He will try to keep his smoke out of your face so that it doesn't stuff you up

He's here to help you to the best of his abilities. He can only imagine how hard it is, but he's a smart guy. He'll take care to make sure you're as healthy as possible.

[good-beanswrites]

Kazui adopts Amane

Kazui marries Shidou

Amane goes ballistic

LMAO she can never be free 💀💀💀I shifted things to work as a single silly scene, but omg it was incredibly fun picturing a feature-length comedy of Amane trying increasingly ridiculous ways to sabotage Kazui's wedding. For this scene, though, it was fun enough picturing what a quirky life these two would live on their own 😂

When Kazui told Amane the good news, she did a victory lap around his apartment. It was a silent, stoic march that made him look on in worry, but she assured him it was all in celebration. 

Now the day had finally arrived. She checked the clock, eagerly awaiting the newest arrival to the household. Kazui said he’d still be taking things slowly, but asking this mystery partner to move in was a huge step if you asked her.

And she was thrilled. No one had listened to her voice throughout all of Milgram, she’d been put through trial after trial, but things had finally made the switch for the better. She was getting her reward for her behavior. The prisoners listened to her pleas and allowed her to go home with Kazui. She’d have no more controlling wardens and sinful doctors hounding her all the time. She’d have a picture perfect home. She went from not having any kind fathers, and by the end of the night she’d practically have two.

Kazui had been a bit vague about this new man he’d been getting serious with. He said Amane may not approve of him, but she should give him a try. She denied all his concerns – she knew Kazui was likely still embarrassed about moving in with a man in the first place. So, as any perfect daughter would do, she proved her acceptance by reciting some facts that she’d researched about homosexuals. She wore the shirt with cats and rainbows that Mahiru had bought for her. In the days leading up to their meeting, she asked Kazui for the man’s name so she could pray for him before bed each night. 

Each time, however, Kazui found a way to skirt around the conversation and avoid telling her the name. That was no issue to her. It wasn’t anything new since coming to live with him. Sometimes he planned on cooking noodles for dinner, but felt the need to speak vaguely on the topic until the dishes were on the table. Sometimes he needed to fix a home appliance, but crept around the place with the type of secrecy you’d expect from a burglar. Amane was learning that he was simply not a forthcoming man, and that wasn’t anything to worry about.

She checked the clock again. And again. Kazui had come home late from his shift, and was busy showering in the bedroom. He said he’d hurry out, but she was thrilled with the responsibility of answering the door. She would get to welcome their new guest into the home and make a good first impression. She would do this perfectly. 

She paced the kitchen, keeping her arms behind her back like Kazui had a tendency to do. She crept to the door, pressing her ear against it. Hearing nothing, she resumed her stiff pacing of the kitchen. She heard the water shut off, and worried Kazui would be out in time to steal away her chance at the welcome speech she’d been rehearsing. 

But then – there it was. The polite knock on the door.

“I’LL GET IT!” 

She flew across the room, throwing the door open. Her beaming expression immediately melted away.

“Oh. It’s you.” Kirisaki Shidou stood in the doorway, smiling down at her in his sweet, infuriating way. Amane had seen a few of the others since everything had ended, but she was struck with how odd he looked in casual clothing. Her frown deepened. She much preferred the prison uniform for him. 

“Hello, Amane-chan.” 

She shifted the door an inch, showing her intention to close it momentarily. “I’m sure Kazui-san would appreciate your visit, but we have other plans tonight. You should come back another time. We’re expecting a very, very important guest.”

“Are you now?” Shidou’s smile didn’t fade, like she hoped it would. Instead, it almost seemed to grow warmer. 

Amane moved the door another inch closed. She felt rage swirling in her chest. What if Kazui’s partner showed up now? What if her speech was ruined because Shidou had absolutely no manners and wouldn’t leave when asked?

“We are. I’m terribly sorry–” the look on her face communicated just how sorry she really was “–but you’ll have to leave. It would be horribly rude to our guest if you’re still here.”

“I see… you don’t wish to be rude to this guest.”

She shifted it more closed. “Precisely.”

“Well, then, I suppose I can come in? It would be rude to make me wait out here, would it not?”

Amane scoffed. “I just said –” Her eyes widened. He smiled. 

Reaching above her, Kazui opened the door all the way. His voice boomed. “Shidou-kun, I’m so glad you could make it!”

Amane looked at Shidou’s expression. Then Kazui’s. Then back to Shidou’s. She took a steady breath. So this is how it was, mm? 

She grabbed the edge of the door and slammed it shut.

[schwarz-san]

Danny is a normal fourteen year old boy in a household in a normal family.

His parents are doctor and engineers and has a smart older sister who likes psychology. He has a goth and a technerd as bestfriends in a normal highschool.

Then all of a sudden he's been kidnapped to be used as a sacrificed to a Eldritch Death God from beyond by some cult that literally came out of nowhere—

---

Danny is a normal kid.

Well, as normal as a kid of a couple with triple doctorates in Chemistry, Engineering and Demonology as well as black belt in multiple martial arts could be anyway .

He has a older sister that is interested in Psychology and proficient with Matial arts.

He's friends with a rich rebellious goth girl who likes plants and a tech genius boy who could probably hack pentagon if wanted that likes meat.

Life is fine.

Then he got interested in demonology and started reading his parents books.

(Maddie and Jack is so proud, their boy is following their footsteps!)

He then read something about a High Ghost King of The Infinite Realm from one of their ancestral books from his dads side. Way back when the Fentons was still called Fentonightingale's and still worked as the greatest and most infamous supernatural hunters around in the olden days.

He got hooked very quickly.

He studied and research more and more about the Ghost King, learning that its existence could be seen through out multiple civilization and mythology all across the globe and has been around way, way back to ancient greece, china, japan, egypt and so on.

He learned that it was considered as a Death God, Eldritch in nature in some cases. That its also represent life and death, balance, Stars, Planets, space and the entire cosmos itself as well as the sea of possibilities, that is simply known as the multiverse in modern culture.

It was known through various titles such as The Balance between Realms, The Absence of Heat, The Protector, The Great One, Halfa and many more with the title High Ghost King of the Infinite Realms being his most notable one.

Danny loves learning about the ghost king and the infinite realms.

On how it was the afterlife, and how it hold all other afterlife with itself. Its pantheon, its customs and its king.

Life is fine.

He graduate highschool with honors and recently got accepted in college, aiming for Engineering.

(He may love studying the supernatural but he still loves space and still defenitely aim to be an astronaut.)

Life is fine.

Then it reality came crashing down all in a blink of an eye.

His family got caught in a rouge accident while visiting gotham, only danny survived.

People who wants his parents tech and research are all hounding danny for their patents, for their tech, their researchs.

And they never stop.

Time passess and Danny is just tired of everything.

He dropped college.

He's pennyless.

Jobless.

His friends are out of reach.

(He heard rumors about the government and high standing people hounding them as well due to their connection with him)

And pretty much after that, he loss just about everything he has.

All except his fenton family heirloom books and his parents researchs.

So he lays on the floor of his crappy rundown apartment, disheveled, thick dark lines under his eyes, and unshaven face. His books, his parents research scattered and discarded around him on the floor along with numerous empty bottles and cans of beer and alcohol. Some bottles were even broken.

Danny is drowning and life is not fine.

Despair clawed deep in his chest as he continue to drowned in just about everything.

Despair

Sadness

Anger

Hate

Loneliness.

So on, so forth.

It was too much. Too much for a simple man like him too bear alone.

Until one day, he just can't anymore.

Broken shard from empty bottle of beer fall on his hand and his mind swirls. Every emotions, every suffering and all of his despair cultivating in to a potent, potent poison like poisonous critters fighting inside a poison jar.

He raised the broken shard in his hand before his bloodshot eyes fell on a discarded open book on the floor.

The Fenton family heirloom.

One that mentions the King of the Infinite Realms.

Then all of a sudden, memories rush back to Danny like water from a broken dam.

His childhood.

His parents.

His sister.

His friends.

His dreams of flying out of the planet.

His obsession with the ghostking and the ghost zone as his family labeled it.

His happy memories.

The accident that take everything away from him.

On how he loss everything.

On how… he doesn't have anything else to lose.

The fact that he doesn't have anything else to lose.

Tired, resigned and resolved, danny made his decision and blood fell to the floor.

--

Danny is an engineer.

A very smart one infact that he was often compared to the likes of Tony Stark and Reed Richards.

CEO of Fenton Works and formerly, Dalv co. (His Godfather insisted of making Danny inherit everything and Danny doesn't have the heart to refuse a dying man) , which he merged with his parents small company with the same name Fenton Works.

They are advance compared to other tech companies and could keep up to Stark's tech (probably one of the very very few that could keep them on their toes) that continue to ridiculously advance at a terrifying pace due to continuous study of alien tech that Stark manage to observe and get his hands on due to his superhero stint.

(No. Danny isn't jealous. Not by the fact that Stark could go in and out of space at his leasure. Not by the fact that he could go to other planets or the fact that he could meet real life aliens. No, shut up Tuck. Seriously dude, stop laughing–!)

Life is fine, he's engage and happy with his life and his family.

Then he got on a accident.

Sam is in coma, with no concrete time on when she'll wake up.

Her parents were angry of course but relented when they saw that state danny was in.

His arms were crushed and he cant feel anything from them.

The vary same hands that he use to craft. The very same hands that sam compliments whenever he made a new invention that made that hammer dude green with envy and made stark speechless.

Fenton work is declining. It wasn't obvious yet but they are slowly losing footing in the industry. All because he couldn't make anything new.

His parents helped, and the only reason that the company isn't crashing and burning to the ground yet. But even they could not totally prevent the company's slow and steady decline.

They then tried to find a way restore his hands.

They tried a lot of things, cybernetics to medical operations and medication, so on, so forth. They worked. But only by little as everything felt horryfyingly wrong whenever he tried any of his options, but for the sake of the fenton works, danny endured. Everything to ensure sam that everthing is alright the moment she woke up from her com.

It's been half a year since then.

Danny was in his office, typing on his computer with the Fenton Ghost Gloves on his hands that let him do work despite the condition of his hands when Wes suddenly barged to his office holding a flyer, yelling something about a way to permanently heal his hands and a possible way to wake up Sam from her coma.

That immediately got Danny's attention.

With hope in his eye and determination burning in his chest, Danny take the flyer and went to the place right of the bat. Lets just say that it wasn't what he was expecting at all.

Danny new of the supernatural. Kind of hard not to when your family have a been written in history books a the worlds greatest and infamous Supernatural Hunter bearing the Fentonightingale name and with Gods and all the magical shenanigans that keeps happening left and right that the Avengers have to deal with.

Which means that he shouldn't have been surprised that magic is involved with the flyer promising miraculous healing.

It's also strange (hah) to meet Stephen Strange again.

He knew the man, a little arrogant but definitely have the skills and talent to back it up. He also heared that he had an accident similar to his that led him to give up his medical career entirely unlike danny who make do with his fenton gloves.

Now he's a sorcerer, not just any sorcerer but The Supreme Sorcerer and may have been a Avenger now for all he knew. Doctor Strange, then gave him the option to either help him heal his hands or learn magic.

Danny chose magic of course.

(Sam would be so mad the he went on and learn magic on his own without her and Tucker)

Now, he just need to learn the magic to wake her up safely.

A year pass and Danny is a full bown sorcerer.

It baffled everyone how fast he learned that he's already nearing the Supreme Sorcerers level with only just a year. Definitely faster than the progress that Doctor Strange himself shown.

They all shuddered in horror once they heared his family name though, and Danny understand their reaction. A descendant of Fentonightingale himself, the greatest Witch Hunter, having magic is a image that they never would have imagine.

That said, it's also been a month since Sam woke up ( there was so much crying involve) and has been in rehab ever since.

She's mad that he learned magic own his own as expected and demanded that she and tucker learn it as well.

(He couldn't say no to her)

It also a shock to learn about Tuckers potential with magic, something about having Egyptian roots. Sam is jealous. Well, that was until she obtain some form of plant magic and make herself a walking terror to everyone.

(The illegal loggers and companies were not ready)

Meanwhile, Danny's specialty is tapping and looking through diferent dimentions, secretly of course, and space magic as well as exorcism related magic in honor of the Fentonnightingale name.

Life is well.

Until one day when he was scrying through other dimension, he encounter a very very large, endless dimension consisted of green skies. It's a dimension that Danny doesn't recognise so he got intrigue and he knew he should have told Doctor Strange immediately but well… his curiosity get the better of him and he take a peak. Just a little wee bit of peek and—

A massive Eldritch Eye looms and stare back at him.

"Uhhhhh—GAAAAAAAAAAHHHH—!"

-

It's been Eons and Danny has been The High Ghost King for quite a time.

Probably more considering that time in the Realms never really flows in a linear Fashion.

(He could tell, with all the time he spent at Clockwork's Lair, his position as the High King, dominion over Space and the fact that Time and Space are always intertwined and are lowkey perpendicular to one another so it's nly natural for him to do so)

Danny just got back from his vacation to another universe and may or may not have traumatize a lot of people (Arceus still won't remove the barricade he put at the Hall of Origins, Giratina may be traumatize as well but enjoys watching Arceus suffer so its worth it. Revenge for being lock away in his own lair. Hah!) And is feeling great! Sure Tuck and Sam were mad that he leave them with his own paperworks but can you say no to this adorable face? (Sam and Tuck grumbled as Danny make the Ookemon team he got from vacation to do puppy eyes with him and aim it to Sam and Tucker, like seriously, its not fair! Hes thousand years old how can he stay adorable after all that years!)

They forgave him but demand that they be included along when Danny decide to have another vacation. Though not before stealing his Pokemons and dumping athe backlogged paperworks on his desk.

Great…

So there he is, doing work like he hadn't taken a vacation and a Mt. Everest worth of paperworks.

(Danny doesn't know what he'll do with out his duplicates)

He's done about half of them (what can he say, hes fast and just want to go to bed) when he felt something.

He could feel it. The ripples from countless universes hapening everywhere all at once, they touched the surface of the Infinite Realms and made themselves known. Normally, ripples isn't something to be worried about. There will be people, gods, cosmic beings and such that will always deal with them one way or another so beings from the realms rarely bothered. This one though is different. Because it messes with the realms, something that almost never happened before.

Further more, he could feel something tugging at his core, which only happens when he was being summoned most of the time.

Putting his paperwork aside (oh yes, finally a valid excuse), Danny take a look to the one he could feel is scrying throigh the realms with magic.

He tuen Eldritch and peak back to the rude person peaking without permission.

Danny wasn't expecting to see a version of him scrying through the realms with sorcery of all things.

He shut his Sorcerer version's spell as he heard the man scream in terror.

(Danny snorted, for some reason, he found it hilarious)

Welp, I guess it's about time to visit Clockwork.

[ape-apocalypse]

Road To The Kingdom - Firestorm Tie-In Novel

Dawn of the Planet of the Apes: Firestorm is a prequel novel written by Greg Keyes for the second movie in the reboot trilogy. It takes place soon after the end of the first film, about a week after the apes escaped into the redwood forest beyond San Francisco and the Simian Flu began to cut through the human race. This novel is a fantastic bridge between Rise and Dawn, giving us more insight into characters we met in the first movie who will feature in the next, as well as fleshing out the fall of society. 

The book does very well juggling between the two massive plots of Caesar's apes avoiding their human hunters and the Simian Flu tearing through the city. Though we don't see Will or any other humans we met in Rise, they give us many new human characters: a reporter trying to make the connection between the escaped apes and the new virus, an emergency room doctor dealing hands on with outbreak casualties, and an ape researcher and a former hunter who have been brought in by Gen-Sys to capture Caesar's group. While I thought I wouldn't care about the humans because the apes are always my favorite characters, all these humans in different locations and with different stories keep the story from dragging; I ended up enjoying the final days of humanity almost as much as Caesar's story. The book also gives us the first introduction to a human character who will become important in Dawn: Dreyfus, the leader of the human colony played by Gary Oldman. Going into the movie, his backstory isn't very clear other than he was in some position of power before the end and he lost his wife and children. But the book goes really deep into his story of a former police chief running for mayor and wanting to protect humans. Rereading the book in 2024, the parallels of the Simian Flu with the Covid outbreak definitely rings true (much like the YouTube shorts).

But no matter how good the human characters are, what I enjoyed most about this book was seeing Caesar and his escaped apes start to adapt to life in the wild. Even while they're being hounded by the humans chasing them, they have to figure out how to care for sick/injured apes and where to get food without humans to feed them. A great moment for Caesar is when he thinks to himself that he never thought beyond escaping from the human city; his realization that there is more to figure out than just dodging humans shows how he goes from the accidental ringleader of the sanctuary to the wise authoritative leader of the apes of the next two films.

Though surprisingly, the true star of this book isn't Caesar; it's Koba. We get numerous detailed flashbacks of Koba's life before ending up in the Gen-Sys lab and receiving the brain enhancing drugs. From the death of his mother to being an abused TV star to arriving at the labs as a test ape. In the films, Koba's hatred of humans shines through and is unquestionable; you don't need the backstory to understand why he carries a grudge against all humanity. But reading the details really did break my heart. And getting his backstory revealed as he learns to work with other apes, as he proves his loyalty to Caesar by rescuing injured apes rather than wrecking vengeance on humans, you actually have hope that he could be happy now that he was free with other apes. 

Another great part of the book is getting to see the very beginning of Caesar and Cornelia's courtship. Since one of my disappointments with the films are the forgotten female characters, I was glad to see Cornelia here, challenging Caesar's orders when it came to taking care of injured apes. Though her role is still small, I liked seeing her get a little time to flesh out her character.

Firestorm is officially labeled as a prequel (which is why I have it listed first as I'm trying to go in chronological storyline order), but I actually enjoyed reading it after seeing Dawn. While I think it can still be appreciated in any order, I liked getting to meet Koba in the movie and seeing him as a great complicated villain, before then learning his backstory and growing your sympathy for him, while also thinking about how tragic it is that he couldn't let go of his hate. Whatever order you decide to read them in, Firestorm by Greg Keyes is a wonderful expansion on the movies that I would label as required reading for fans for the expansive and enjoyable story it shares.

Intro / Previous / Next

[myemuisemo]

In approaching the first chapter of The Hound of the Baskervilles in this week's Letters from Watson, I initially felt that I was sort of cheating as I know I've read this more recently than middle childhood. Then I read the first chapter and realized my memory of the story consists of a vague impression that it has a moor and a dog. Oh well.

Mortimer's staff being referred to as a "Penang lawyer" reminds us that when you live in a colonialist society, the mindset is everywhere. The staff is presumably made from Licuala acutifida, a sort of cane native to China, southeast Asia, and Pacific Islands. By 1889, when the novel is set (five years after the date on the walking stick), British Malaya had been under direct crown rule for a couple decades. The Brits had owned Penang since at least the secret Burney Treaty of 1826.

Dr. Watson's initial wrong guesses provide a window into his world and preconceptions. My first reaction was "how did he think hunt rather than hospital when he himself has medical training?"

Growing up in the genteel countryside would explain "hunt." But Charing Cross Hospital, then located just off the Strand, would have been only about two miles from Baker Street. How do you miss a large hospital?

There might be a titch of snobbery in play, as Watson did his residency at much, much older Barts (St. Bartholomew's). Barts dates from the 12th century, while Charing Cross Hospital was an early 19th century upstart. Watson also went for additional training at the military hospital at Netley.

Watson really puts up with a lot, though.

James Mortimers' publications focus on the idea that illness stems from throwbacks to a more primitive state, an idea also applied to criminology of the day. Through 2024 eyes, this is unlikely to be a good thing, but let's see where Doyle goes with it. I have faith in Holmes due to his love of that book that attributes much of human civilization to non-white world cultures. (Coveting Holmes' skull reeks of phrenology, but I can't believe this was meant as an appealing trait.)

After being informed that Sholto was based on Oscar Wilde, I'm wondering which of Doyle's acquaintances was the pattern for James Mortimer (who is not addressed as "doctor" because he's a surgeon; it's a British thing).

While Holmes describes Mortimer as "amiable" before meeting him, he does not find being described as "the second highest expert in Europe" all that simpatico. There's some impatience in Holmes' chapter-ending request that Mortimer explain why he's there.

At this early stage, I dislike James Mortimer. It's partly the nature of his publications, but also the false humility of calling himself a "dabbler in science" when he in fact has publications, an award, and a degree. It's dabbling to collect bones or bugs or whatever and be perpetually working on a treatise that never gets finished or published. It's not dabbling when you have official recognition within your chosen career for your research.

So what is Mortimer here about?

[peony-pearl]

A little Lumi and Hollander plot I keep rotating in my brain like all the time is one of the first scenarios where Lumi realized she has feelings for him

Hollander goes off on a mission with some SOLDIERs; standard stupid stuff, he tells her. But he gets a free hotel and meals so whatever. Sometimes there's decent sightseeing, depending on wherever you're sent to. He's going to pick up some monster samples to test for research; SOLDIER does the dirty work; Hollander pokes around before the bodies return to the planet.

After going on the mission, he keeps in touch with her for several days until, one evening, he hasn't responded. Lumi understands he may have fallen asleep, so she doesn't hound him.

The next day, during work in the Shinra Lounge Coffee Shop, she's approached by a Turk known as Cissnei; her stomach drops. Have her conversations with Hollander about their anti-Shinra rhetoric come to light? She maintains her composure until Cissnei tells her:

'Miss Ucello, you were found in Doctor Hollander's phone as an emergency contact. There's been an incident.'

Emergency contact? Incident?

Lumi listens as Cissnei pulls her aside.

Anti-Shinra rebels had intercepted the mission data and found where Hollander and the SOLDIERs were stationed. During the night their rooms were ambushed.

Hollander was in critical condition. They'd already used multiple healing spells on him just to keep him going until they could get him back to Midgar.

Lumi listens, feeling the familiar emotion of fear - the chalk white that ran through her veins that she remembered during her time under Corneo's thumb. She thought she'd lost this emotion.

But Cissnei can see it. She tells Lumi the helicopter will be arriving and landing shortly, and she offers for her to be there as it does. Lumi immediately agrees to go, hangs up her apron and rushes off with Cissnei.

As the helicopter comes into view and lands, Lumi feels sick. Her hands have been wringing together the way they used to every morning down in the slums, awaiting the fresh horrors of the day.

A crew wheels Hollander out on a stretcher, hooked up to as many wires as possible for the stretcher. He looks unrecognizable, bruised and wearing ripped clothing still stained in blood. Lumi isn't fazed by the bloodied visage - but she is fazed by the fact that it's her only friend.

She stands next to Cissnei, her mind screaming to see him, but she can't stop them from wheeling him to be treated. She barely registers another Turk, Rude, approaching Cissnei.

'It's fifty/fifty,' Rude says. 'His ribs were already broken before they could do CPR.'

Lumi hears a 'hmm' from Cissnei.

It's unconcerned. Lumi knows Hollander's reputation. She looks to Cissnei, holding back tears in her olive eyes and thanks her. She asks if she can be notified once he is cleared for visitors. Cissnei nods.

Lumi, doing her best to not tremble, thanks them and... leaves. She staggers back to the coffee shop, her mind racing until she tells herself she has a job to do and no one wants to see her cry. Old habits kick in and she shuts down, going back to her duties in the coffee shop. She finishes her shift, gets her things and then...

What next? She clocks out, thinks about going home and...

She runs to the bathroom to lock herself inside and fall to the floor sobbing. It's the first time she's cried since well before coming topside. She's feels like she's dying. She sounds like it too. She's in there for what feels like an eternity, trying to process what she's feeling.

She receives a call. She looks at the phone - it's been two hours since the end of her shift. At least six hours since Hollander was brought back.

The person calling her is Cissnei.

'He's out of surgery. You can visit him for a while, if you'd like'

Lumi's voice clears, free of emotion. 'Thank you.'

Lumi is escorted to the infirmary. She is brought to his room, where, once the door closes, her composure shakes. She approaches her friend, asleep, covered in wires, hooked up to IVs, his big mouth full of stupidity is blocked by a breathing tube. Lumi walks over, barely feeling in control of her feet, and she sits in a provided uncomfortable chair next to the bed. She listens to the machines in place of his voice. Her hands grip the checkered fabric of her pants before she reaches out to touch his bruised hand. Her fingers brush the hospital bracelet on his wrist.

'You can't leave me yet, you idiot,' her words are barely a whisper. 'We've got too much to do.'

Too much to do together.

She reluctantly leaves when time is up. She has no choice but to go home. She doesn't eat, she barely sleeps.

The night seeps into the morning; she blearily gets up for work, her mind and body still wracked from fear. She goes into work, where everyone can tell she's just a little off... but she still works efficiently. Her breaks and time after work are spent sitting and dissociating or visiting Hollander. Her full day off is spent only being able to see him for an hour. Otherwise she lingers around town, aimlessly going from place to place, sitting at cafes, or on street benches. She holds onto her phone like a lifeline, just in case.

It's easy to be alone. She thought she'd done well to remain distant; but once again she's proven wrong. She has no photos to look at; but she does have voice messages. She listens to to old clips of him telling her where he'll be waiting for her when they've met for drinks. She's spiralling... but differently.

Days pass; she goes to work. She goes to see him. His bruises are slowly changing. She feels hopeful.

One day after work, she sees a missed call - under his name. No voicemail.

She calls him back, hopeful, feeling every second that the phone rings crawl by until-

A click on the other end.

'Hey,' his voice is raspy and faded, but it's him. 'It's been a while.'

Lumi blurts out his name of 'Silas' before she can control herself. 'Oh my god how are you feeling?!'

'Well... bad. But-' he makes a sound as he tries to get comfortable. 'I suppose I could be dead. That would put a damper on things.'

For the first time in almost a week, Lumi laughs; its soft and relieved; but the best laugh of her life so far.

'I'll be right up-'

'No, no,' Hollander insists. 'I've got doctors all around me now that I'm awake. We won't get any time to talk. I just wanted to check in with you.'

Lumi closes her eyes in relief. 'I had a Turk come to get me because you put me down as your emergency contact. Do you know I almost shit myself seeing that? You could have warned me, you know.'

The broken, but real laugh on the other end caused her to smile.

'Ahh, but where's the fun in that?'

Lumi shook her head as she heard doctors murmur. 'Get some rest, jackass.'

'I missed you too, bitch.'

Lumi wipes the tears of both relief and happiness from her cheek.

'I missed you too. I'll bring you some coffee tomorrow.'

'... I'd like that. Go rest, Lumi.'

'I will. You too.'

She ends the call, looking at his caller information on her phone. She lets out a shuddering breath before holding her phone to her chest.

Dammit.

Dammit.

Goddamn it all.

She loved him.

[fandom-lover2]

The Hound

Chapter Two - Ghost Stories

-image not mine-

Chapter One - A-hunting We Go

I shifted in my seat, reaching for my water bottle and taking a drink.

This road trip had been very, very, uneventful.

Aside from Mrs Hudson and her love drama as we were leaving, nothing happened.

Train ride, nada. Car ride, zip.

John and Sherlock only spoke when necessary, otherwise in their own worlds.

I tried reading, but it was a boring book about something I didn’t even like. Sherlock’s attempts to train me to be just like him were annoying at time. Who the hell even reads about the psychology of a person’s cheese preferences for fun anyway?

And John, he was nose deep on his phone with that blog of his. I swear, he loved it more than me and Sherlock.

Sherlock was taking everything in, having to take moments to close his eyes so he didn’t become overwhelmed by it all.

Last thing we needed was another guy hitting him after he exposed a cheating wife.

I looked out the window of the hired car, to the rolling green hills.

Other than those 2 days at Christmas, I’d never been to the English countryside. I had been expecting more soggy field, sheep and stone walls, but this looked like a normal countryside like back home.

Other than ‘looking for the hound’, I didn’t really know what we were going to be doing here. But hey, a couple days off school and some quality time with Sherlock and John, I wasn’t going to complain.

Following the map, because they both still insisted on a map, we drove for a good hour before pulling over onto the side of the road.

Climbing out the back, I stretched and began to follow the men up a hill with a large rock cropping on it.

Sherlock scaled the rocks, trench coat and shoes and all.

I tried to follow after him, but John grabbed my arm to stop me. “Absolutely not.”

“Please.” I begged.

“She’ll be fine.” Sherlock called down, halfway up.

“She could slip.” John argued.

“She’s more agile than you think.” Sherlock reasoned.

“Please John. I’ll step exactly where Sher does.”

“John,” Sherlock called down, when it was becoming clear that he wasn’t going to let me go. “I’ve got her.”

The doctor sighed, realizing he wasn’t losing this one, and released me. “Be careful. And you, watch her.” he threatened up at Sherlock with a finger.

With Sherlock’s instruction, I stepped where he told me, scrambling up the rocks behind him. At the top, he helped me the last step up and then led me to the middle of the outcropping.

“Why are we up here?” I asked, taking in the world below.

“To get a clear lay of the land.” Sherlock murmured.

I knew nothing of hunting, but it was fun being up here. I could see everything. And feel the sun’s warmth on the skin, and the breeze through my hair.

I’d spent too much time locked away in the city. Fresh air felt thin, and strange in my lungs. And my skin soaked in the sun like a wilted flower.

I tilted my head back, taking a moment to relish the nature.

“There’s Baskerville.” John spoke up from below, Sherlock and I both turning to look where he pointed.

The large facility, all white with large fencing around. A lab of some kind, Google said.

“That’s Grippen Village.” John turned almost 180 degrees, pointing to the town behind us. I couldn’t see much but a falling down castle, the rest of the village beyond the ridge.

“So that must be…” John spoke to himself, re-checking the map before pointing back towards the research faculty, where there was a thick cluster of trees. “Yes, Dews Hollow.”

Where the Hound had killed the client’s father.

“What’s that?” Sherlock pointed towards the research base, or rather just below it.

John hummed, then pulled up his binoculars. “A minefield.” he informed. “Technically Baskerville is an army base, so I guess they’ve always been keen on keeping people out.”

Ok, so avoid the active minefield.

“Clearly.” Sherlock mused. By his tone, I could tell he was already working on a theory.

“Now what do we do?” I asked.  

“Find some food and a place to stay for the night. You need dinner and bed.” John answered, folding the map.

“Yes Mom.” I mumbled, which earned a snicker from Sherlock.

“What?” John called.

“Nothing!” Sherlock and I replied in unison, giggling.

“Sherlock, help her down. And make sure she doesn’t break her neck.”

“I’m not helpless.” I said to no one in particular, beginning to pick my way down the rocks.

When I reached the last bit, I leapt down and landed beside John, much to his annoyance.

And then I took off, racing down the hill towards the car.

I hated running, when being told to, but being out here with no people to avoid, or students to compare myself to, it felt good to get the crisp air in my lungs and to feel so free.

I raced the wind, leaping over stones, and skidded to a halt beside the car.

John and Sherlock were still up the hill, slowly making their way down.

“Hurry up!” I called, and I didn’t actually expect them to do it.

 But then Sherlock was rushing down, leaving John behind. A moment too late, I realized he wasn’t just running to the car, but running right for me.

“What the hell did I do?” I yelped, turning tail and beginning to run around the car, opening the door and diving in, closing the door behind me just before he reached me.

“Testing your reflexes.” Sherlock panted, like it made sense.

He was so weird at times.

Climbing into the driver’s seat, he started up and car and we waited for John, who finally made it down the hill.

“Ready to go?” John asked, climbing in.

I rolled my eyes at his attempt at humor.

Getting back on the road, Sherlock headed for the village.

It was small, really small, and a stereotypical old English town.

We pulled up to the Cross Keys, a bar/restaurant/hotel. Unfortunately, their website didn’t allow for online booking, so we just had to hope they had rooms or we’d be sleeping in the car because this was the only accommodation joint in this town.

We got out the car and made out way to the entrance, passing a group of tourists standing around a guy obviously hamming it up for them. At his side, a sign saying “Beware the hound” with a crudely drawn wolf.

“And remember, stay away from the wood at night if you value your lives!” the guide joked.

I settled in between Sherlock and John, side eyeing both of them as they looked at one another, Sherlock turning up his coat’s collar and defending himself from John’s mocking glance.

“There isn’t actually something to worry about out there, right?”

Apparently, I didn’t do a good enough job of keeping the worry out my voice, because John reached over to wrap an arm around me.

Sherlock didn’t say anything, not that I expected him to.

Of course it was stupid, fearing a gigantic dog was running around these woods. It was like believing in bigfoot.

We stepped inside, and I noticed a sign saying they did vegetarian cuisine.

John spoke to the man behind the bar while I began to wonder around inside.

It was cute, and quaint, and old.

While I was enjoying the scene, Sherlock was doing his thing. And John did his, chatting up the barman and getting some information.

Sherlock caught my eye, beckoning me over when he saw John had the keys and was readying to leave.

“Have you ever seen it? The Hound?” I heard John ask as I approached.

“Me? No. Fletcher has.” The bar keeper pointed to the guy who was doing the speech outside.

He continued to talk, yapping on about something. Sherlock stepped out, and I followed after him.

Going to a table, he took a half glass of beer someone had left and approached the guy. “What do you see?”

I scanned him. Mid 20s, probably wanting to get the hell out of this town. On the phone, meaning in a moment of distraction. Newspaper in his pocket, ‘Racing’ and then something, meaning an interest in betting.

“Got it.” I muttered to Sherlock, just as we arrived to the table.

“Mind if we join you?” Sherlock started, taking a seat when the guy showed he didn’t. I sat beside him.

“Have you really seen that Hound thing?” I started, adding a bit of wonder into my tone.

“Sarah please,” Sherlock admonished.

I know cover names were supposed to be something simple, easily remembered and forgotten, but Sarah? He knew of my beef with Sarah from Bio.

“Dad, he said he’s seen it.” I insisted, before turning to the guy. “He’s such a non-believer.”

The guy did a once over of Sherlock. “You from the papers?”

I laughed, something mocking and disbelieving.

“No, nothing like that. She just watched that documentary and wanted to see for herself. Have you seen it?”

“Maybe.” He acted nocholant, trying and failing to make his answer seem mysterious.

Sherlock nudged me to start. “Got any proof?”

He turned to us, offended. “Why would I tell if I did?” He moved to stand, John coming over just in time. “Excuse me.”

“I called Henry-”

“Bets off, sorry John.” Sherlock interrupted.

“What?”

The dumbass took the bait. “Bet?”

“My plan needs darkness.” Sherlock looked down to his watch. “Looks like we’ve got another half an hour of light before-”

“Wait, what bet?”

“Oh, my dad bet John 50 quid you couldn’t prove you’d seen the Hound.” I answered, pulling out my phone and beginning to ‘type’ a message, giving the illusion of losing interest. People hated when kids ignored them. “Guess that documentary was just crap.”

“Yeah, the guys in the pub said you could.” John tagged on, finally understanding what was going on.

The guy huffed a laugh. “Well, you’re gonna lose your money mate.”

“Yeah?” Sherlock pushed.

“Yeah. I’ve seen it. Only about a month ago, up at the Hollow. It was foggy, mind. Couldn’t make much out.” He pulled out his phone, beginning to scroll through his camera roll.

“So no witnesses, I suppose.” Sherlock asked, rolling his eyes when the kid agreed. “Never are.”

“But, wait.” He held out his phone towards Sherlock and I.

Well, it was a large dog. More wolf than dog. And given the angle of the shot, it could have been taken to make the dog appear bigger.

Not believable, but not bullshit either. More probable that photoshop was used.

“Is that it?” Sherlock scoffed, and the guy turned his phone towards John, who squinted at the screen. “It’s not exactly proof, is it?”

“Photoshop.” I taunted, refocusing on my note app as I typed nonsense.

“Sorry John, I win.”

“Wait, wait. That’s not all.” the guy cut in, pocketing his phone. “People don’t like going up there, you know?”

Yeah, we’d heard. And Sherlock was still planning a midnight hike. We weren’t normal people.

“It’s the Hollow. Gives them… a bad sort of feelin’.”

“Ohh, is it haunted?” Sherlock mocked. “Is that supposed to convince me?”

“Nah, don’t be stupid. Nothing like that. But I recon there is something out there. Something from Baskerville escaped.”

“Clone? Super dog?” Sherlock carried on, doing a good job at playing an asshole.

“Maybe. God knows what they’ve been spraying on us all these years, or putting in the water. I wouldn’t trust them as far as I could spit.” the guy continued.

“That’s the best you’ve got?”

Maybe that was it. I mean, he seems more the show off type than the show for it. I mean, he had a freaking werewolf mask sticking out his bag. For all we knew, he was the damn dog thing.

But, tour guide stupid actually seemed to get serious, looking to me and John before talking. “I had a mate once who worked for the MOD. One weekend we were meant to go fishing but he never showed up, well not till later. When he did, he was white as a sheet. I can see him now. ‘I’ve seen things today, Fletcher’, he said. ‘That I never want to see again’.”

He looked just a spooked as his friend.

“He was sent to work at some secret army place. Maybe, maybe, Baskerville or somewhere else. In the labs there, the really secret labs, he said he’d seen terrible things. Rats as big as dogs, he’d said. And dogs…” He pulled a slab of cement from his backpack. “And dogs the size of horses.”

It was a casting of a footprint. A canine footprint. A canine footprint of something you’d expect to find of a dire wolf.

“We did say 50?” John cut in, taking a sip of his beer.

Sherlock continued to analyze the mold as he pulled out his wallet and pulled out some notes, throwing them onto the table for John.

“Ta.” John thanked him, taking the notes as Sherlock stood and headed for the car.

Draining his beer, John stood and followed.

I reached out before the guy put the slab away, testing my own hand against the print. It was bigger than my hand, a lot bigger.

I shoved the cement back to him, running to catch up with Sherlock and John.

They were already in the car, strapped in and waiting for me.

“Ok, it was bullshit before but something had to make those prints. Are we really going to go out there?”

Sherlock looked at me through the mirror. “Scared of a ghost story?”

“We’ll see who’s laughing when you’re being eaten.” I mumbled, looking away from him.  

Tags: @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing

[eneiryu]

So you write a lot about extreme supernatural things happening in your fics so I'm thinking about like, Monroe maybe finding a way to temporarily bring the Dread Doctors back, or to bring a version of them back, or even just a physical manifested memory, because she's fascinated by their methods and thinks they can give her the key to ending the war on the wolves once and for all and really, it's so inconvenient to research through their notes when she could just ask them in person and have them work on things for her. The Doctors, now somehow returned, go looking for Theo because they can sense he's alive somehow or something, I don't know, and it's a battle between Theo trying to protect the McCall pack from the Dread Doctors' ire and making sure they don't become another of their experiments (imagine what the DD could do with a true alpha, a hell-hound, a banshee) and the McCall pack trying to keep Theo out of their clutches and keep him from sacrificing himself while also bearing witness to some of his trauma. Can you imagine it? I can't remember the name of the fic right now, but you already wrote about Argent being worried about him reading the novel and going to the operating theatres in that fic where he made a cure for wolfsbane for Alec. Everything they knew about Theo and the DD happened behind the scenes or when it was already over. Imagine what they would learn/witness if it was happening right in front of them, the fear, the pain, the torture. He'd have to come clean about SOME of the things that were done to him in order to give them context and properly explain why fighting them is a bad idea- I can't imagine Liam would give him the chance to hide it any longer

It’s definitely an interesting thought. And maybe more to the point, entirely within something that an actual season of Teen Wolf might have tried to pull. 😆 The idea of the Dread Doctors and Monroe tag-teaming I will say is horrifying, though there’s an interesting element there of—how would that last and would it work? I can’t seem them actually successfully working together for any point in time before one or the other would turn on the other.

But to your actual point about what Theo would have to confess—it’d definitely force the issue in a way little else could, most likely. And it’d certainly make it real, in a way that things in the past—that had already been “survived”—couldn’t.

It’s an interesting idea! I’ll see if anything sparks.

[guhamun]

@caemthe said (inbox):

[ medical researcher v. ] A gentle smile adorns the researcher’s face when he turns to greet the mercenary leader. It makes quite the contrast with the scenery behind him: a desolate and scorched earth, the typical aftermath of a resonator who overclocked. Except that it’s a calamity with no victims, the mercenary who succumbed to overclocking resting under the shadow of a tree that miraculously survived, attached to a few small machines checking her vitals. “There’s no need to worry, she’s just sleeping due to the exhaustion. As long as she gets enough rest the following days, no problems should arise. But, with that said, I would like to be granted permission to enter the Ghost Hounds’ headquarters to check on her condition.” He doesn’t immediately explain why the resonator overclocked, waiting for the ones who came with their leader to take their comrade away. Only then, he speaks again. “She lost someone dear recently, am I correct?” It’s a question that doesn’t sound like one. Jiyan sighs. “These past few months have been especially difficult for all due to the constant attacks from the Fractsidus. It has taken a toll on the Midnight Rangers as well. It’s one thing to lose your loved ones to TD, and another due to the actions of other humans.” There were plenty of things the doctor left unsaid, things he didn’t specify, but he didn’t have to. “How have you been, Calcharo? It’s been a while since we last met.” ‘Like this,’ he purposely forgot to add.

ALTHOUGH HIS GAZE DID linger upon Jiyan for a moment, sharp eyes were quick to fall upon his resting mercenary. He had expected the worst when he had received word of what had transpired here, but it seemed that everything was under control aside from the scenery. Thankfully no one had been caught in the intense heat, especially since situations like this one often didn’t always end on a positive note. Eyes narrowed slightly, such nearly imperceptible as his concerned rose for the one hooked up to machines – passed out, but getting the rest that their body so severely needed after an overclock episode. As if reading his mind, Jiyan was quick put his uncertainties aside, a feeling of relief washing over the mercenary leader despite his expression remaining the same. The only difference was that his gaze softened slightly, the nearly missed furrow of his brows melting away. ❝That’s fine. I see no reason to refuse your visits.❞ She would appreciate too, no doubt. Jiyan, after all, was a face that many became used to, his accomplishments numerous. However, what won over his wary Ghost Hounds was the fact that he was so…approachable.

     This made him easy to speak to.

     Falling quiet once again, he merely watched his mercenary’s slumbering form, hesitant, almost, to speak of matters that were not his own. However, he supposed there was no reason to feel as such, and so he broke his temporary silence. ❝Yes. Two weeks ago. I knew that Alessia was taking Fenno’s death hard, and had told her to rest rather than take on more missions, but she wouldn’t have it.❞ He knew from experience what she was doing: trying to drown out the feelings through keeping the self busy. He should have been much firmer with her about hanging back at headquarters. In the end, he had softened due to sympathy for what she was going through, believing that perhaps – just perhaps – this would benefit her. Calcharo should have known better. ❝I can only guess that she must have found the location of the group involved in his death, and thus came to handle them herself without assistance. The rage must have bubbled over… The pain…❞ His words trailed off, a small sigh slipping from him before he turned his gaze back to Jiyan. ❝TD at least make sense. You would think that humans would be more focused on a singular enemy; however, I guess that’s asking too much.❞

     He scoffed.

     As the direction of the conversation shifted to him, he hummed softly, arms crossing over his chest. ❝I have been fine, as usual.❞ Questionable. ❝What of you? Shouldn’t you be back in Jinzhou? I can never understand why you always personally come out like this.❞ Calcharo knew why. Jiyan was just like this. He was not the type to sit back and merely observe, and had always been the kind of person who would rush forward to aid another. It was for this reason that his more…cautious…nature never flared when he was around the researcher. They were just too genuine in their care for others.

[tma-reader-inserts]

Not a insert but something worse

Some food for thought

Other avatar backgrounds

(tw: self-harm in the desolation)

The eye

- journalist/ columnist

- Junk man

- Highschooler in charge of the gossip circle

The vast

- professional pool cleaner

- Landscaper

- Architect

The lonely

- librarian

- Artic circle researcher

- At home worker

Desolation

- self harming person with fire

- Incinerator worker

- Crematory worker

The corruption

- A couple obsessively in love with each other

- Bee keeper

- Forensic entomologist

The flesh

- Model

- Masseuse

- Surgeon

The stranger

- Model

- Sculptor specialising in realism

- Musician

The dark

- electrician

- Spelunker

- Sleep analyst volunteer

The buried

- grave digger

- Tube worker

- Gardener

The spiral

- drug dealer/drug addict

- Thrill seeker

- Artist

The web

- old lady crochet

- Video surveillance security guard

- Toxicologist

The slaughter

- war reenactor

- Axe thrower

- Enthusiastic carnivore

The end

- er nurse/doctor

- Hospice volunteer

- A cat who can tell when someone’s about to die

The hunt

- truancy officer

- Father searching for their lost child

- Blood hound

[adrowsypirate]

The Whitechapel File Chapter One and Chapter Two

I am thinking of continuing one of my writing samples and naming it The Whitechapel File. As a history enthusiast and a fan of Sherlock Holmes, I have always been fascinated by detective work. In fact, Sherlock Holmes was one of the reasons I wanted to become a detective—but I never did nor will I ever. Honestly, I think I would suck at it.

I’ve spent time researching old unsolved cases and developing my own theories about them. This passion also ties into my love for Gravity Falls, a show that captivated me with its mysteries. I didn’t watch the analysis videos about the series until I was older—long after it had ended.

Here is the next chapter of my story. (Warning: Murder scene and some blood ahead.} {I added this to a blog named The Whitechapel File}

-Chapter One {John Watson}

Watson, momentarily taken aback by Sherlock’s abrupt shift, straightened his coat. “You intend to take the case, then?”

Sherlock tapped a long finger against the letter. “The Whitechapel Murderer—if indeed it is he—has struck again. Scotland Yard will blunder about as usual, and the press will hound them for answers. I would rather not wait until another poor soul meets the same fate.” He stood abruptly and paced toward the window.

Watson followed his gaze outside, where the fog rolled thick over Baker Street, dimming the glow of the street lamps. “Do we have any leads?”

Sherlock smirked. “We shall begin where all mysteries unfold, my dear Watson—at the scene of the crime.”

Chapter Two: The Crime Scene (Sherlock’s POV)

They arrived at Swallow Gardens just before dawn, where a group of constables struggled to keep curious onlookers at bay. The body of Frances Coles lay beneath the dark stone railway arch, her throat slashed. Blood had pooled onto the damp cobblestones, seeping into the cracks like ink on old parchment.

Inspector Greg Lestrade, looking weary and cold, noticed them and sighed.

He was a lean, thin, and sharp-featured Irishman with a sallow complexion. His dark brown eyes, framed by messy red hair, carried a mixture of exhaustion and irritation. He wore a navy-blue suit with a high collar, a dark tie, and a brown leather overcoat. His polished shoes, now speckled with mud, hinted at his long hours spent on the streets.

“Holmes, I suppose I should have expected you.”

“Indeed, Inspector,” Sherlock replied. “And what have we here?”

Lestrade handed him a bloodstained handkerchief. “Found near the body. No sign of a struggle. A witness claims to have seen a shadow moving away just before the body was discovered, but no clear description.”

“This is between Chamber Street and Royal Mint Street,” Sherlock murmured, scanning the surroundings. “I heard she was still alive when found but succumbed before medical help could arrive.”

Lestrade nodded. “Aye.”

Sherlock’s gaze sharpened. “Who was the last person seen with her?”

“A man named James Thomas Sadler.”

Sherlock crouched beside the corpse. Frances Coles had minor wounds, but a noticeable injury on the back of her head suggested she had been thrown violently to the ground before her throat was cut—at least twice. The first incision ran from left to right, and then the blade was drawn back again, deepening the wound. Otherwise, there were no mutilations, leading some to believe that her assailant had been disturbed by Ernest Thompson, the man who found her.

His fingers hovered just above the wound without touching it. “A clean cut—precise. Not the hurried work of a mere thug.” His sharp eyes flicked toward Watson. “Would you say, Doctor, that this wound was inflicted post-mortem?”

Watson knelt, carefully inspecting the edges of the gash. “Difficult to say. The bleeding suggests she was alive when it happened, though she may have been unconscious.”

Sherlock nodded, deep in thought. “A practiced hand. Someone who has done this before—perhaps even enjoys it.”

Lestrade shifted uncomfortably. “You believe it to be the same man?”

Sherlock stood, dusting off his coat. “I believe we are dealing with a killer who is methodical and deliberate. But whether he is our infamous Whitechapel fiend… Jack the Ripper—” He trailed off, his piercing gaze sweeping the alleyway.

Then, with a flicker of excitement, he turned to Watson. “Come, we have a train to catch.”

Watson blinked. “A train? Where to?”

Sherlock grinned. “To the past, my dear Watson. To find James Thomas Sadler—the last man to see Frances Coles alive.”

[dathen]

“I have no doubt, however, that your researches will soon clear the matter up.”

“My researches!”

“Hence the health-giving expedition to Lausanne.”

Lmaaaaooo he WOULD see an investigation as a health-giving trip, given how eager he is to dive into mysteries on his own doctor-mandated vacations. Surely it would be the same for Watson, yes??

This also makes me place this story before Hound of the Baskervilles. Watson is much more shocked about going solo here than he was in that story, even though Holmes offered his help without checking with him first there! This definitely feels like the first time, and that would explain why he was less surprised then.