#and so I was doin some research on places then deliver

[iced-souls]

I simply wish to order me own lapel pins….. and alas why money be so much

[angie-long-legs]

Angel made no effort to hide his scathing eye-roll as Travis lamented the tossed-aside take-out. So the guy was running errands in the middle of Angel's rescue mission? Wow. Way to make a guy feel special.

"Yer a delivery driver now?" Angel snorted. "What, ya doin' research for a script or somethin'?" Travis was really hitting the tropes this time. "Ya got a big sausage pizza back there, too? No, don't tell me, ya already delivered it, but the poor broad didn't have any money! Luckily, she thought of anotha' way ta... make it up ta ya," the spider drawled comedically with all the sleaze he could muster, before holding a hand up in a halting gesture and scornfully adding, "Stop me if ya've heard this one."

Eagerly, he swiped the lighter from Travis, placing both cigarettes in his mouth and igniting them, this time with ease. A hand plucked one from his lips to offer to Travis and another dropped the lighter back into his lap, while a third reached for his own cigarette to take a long, hard-earned drag. Finally. With a tilt of his head, the porn star exhaled the smoke out of the half-open window, feeling himself begin to unwind for the first time that night.

"Wrong and wrong," Angel muttered, tapping the ash out of the window - not that a few cinders would have looked out of place in the dumping ground that was Travis' car. "Fuckin' wish I was coked-up. This crash is killin' me."

The spider massaged his forehead, his eyes fluttering shut. Was it the come-down? Or was it the fact that he had just serviced a client that had relished in making him hurt?

It was probably both. No - it was definitely both.

Angel's attention split between listening to Travis explain his tardiness and the reckless manner in which the sinner was driving. Jeez, the guy made Angel look like he read the highway code nightly. Or ever.

You'd think Travis had nothing to live for. He probably didn't.

"Ugh," Angel's head fell back to lean on top of the headrest, which was far too short for his height. "Yer tellin' me that I was standin' out in the cold, stickin' out like a sore thumb while you were goofin' off gettin' fuckin'... noodles?!" he moaned. "I wish I'd got murda'd. That'd show ya," Angel sulked, lower arms folded huffily across his lap.

"Look, who gives a fuck if some hot-shot businessman gets food that's had my ass in it? If anythin', ya should be upchargin'!" he protested. "Besides, this ass has been everywhere in that goddamn tower. Whoeva' ordered this has probably had a piece a' me!"

Angel took another long inhale from the cigarette, stewing in stony silence. He was exhausted, and all he wanted to go home. However, as he wallowed in his self-pity, an opportunity began to unfold within his mind... Yes! Oh, he could use this.

"Fine. But if yer insistin' on takin' me on some magical mystery tour, there's gotta be somethin' in it fa me, short stuff," the arachnid said silkily, turning his body to face the driver with a scheming expression. "You get me a little somethin' sweet," he euphemised, tapping the side of his "nose" in demonstration, "and I'll help ya with yer little... take-out dilemma."

If he was going to be Travis' right-hand man for a food-related emergency, he was definitely going to extort the guy for drugs.

Fair was fair.

Travis' old, beat-up cab was instantly recognisable as it hurtled along the empty street, the blaring music failing to mask the ridiculously loud huffing of the engine as the vehicle skidded to a halt. In all the time that Angel had known Travis, he had driven the same pile of crap that he could only assume would scare off ride-seeking demons in his cab driving days - why someone who made a living out of their vehicle didn't splash out on something less tragic was a mystery to Angel. Still, a ride in this shit-heap was better than spending the night abandoned on the roadside at the mercy of this seedy neighbourhood.

With a faint eyeroll, Angel circled round to the passenger side, collapsing in the seat next to his chauffer and slamming the door behind him. Looking down, he realised he was sitting on something - a take-out box? The spider pried this trash out from under him and tossed it to the floor, grimacing at the abundance of crumbs he felt coating the seat in the process. "Jeez, dontcha ever clean this thing?" he muttered, wiping the gross crumbs on his dress, before leaning back and propping his feet up on the dashboard. He'd spent enough time in this crappy car with Travis over the years to feel he'd earned the right to make himself at home.

"What took ya so long?" he grumbled, lower set of arms folded across himself, while the upper set fumbled around in his chest fluff for his pack of smokes and a lighter. Fishing out the desired items, he rolled down the window and flicked the lighter as he popped a cigarette between his lips, muffling his voice as he continued: "Been freezin' my ass off out there, ya know. And my phone died. And I don't got any weapons on me or- oh, fa fuck's sake!"

As the rather fancy, butterfly-design lighter failed to produce a flame, the exasperated spider cursed angrily and threw it onto the dashboard, the solid metal item only narrowly missing the windshield. "Great. Just what I need, afta' the night I've had, my fuckin' lighta' craps out on me," he moaned, his voice dripping with sarcasm and still muted by the cigarette in his mouth.

Finally, he turned to face his Knight in shining armour, sighing as he did so. Sure, he was grateful for the ride, but an obsessive super-fan ranked fairly low on the list of people he could tolerate right now. At least he couldn't give less of a fuck if Travis saw him like this: roughed-up by a particularly brutish client, make-up smeared all over his face, coming down from whatever the hell it was that Val had given him before he dropped him off. Yet, Travis was the same as ever, gazing at him with very literal heart eyes (or eye, more accurately), practically drooling at the other sinner from the moment he pulled up to him.

"Please," Angel whined, digging around for another cigarette to give to Travis. At least he had something to offer by way of thanks, "Tell me ya got a light."

[seisoukan]

Moonrise - Chapter 2

Translated by: @seisoukan

With thanks to my proofers: Vulpes

Season: Autumn

Time: Ten minutes later

Location: Cafe COCHI

KURO: Nope, I’m not gettin’ it at all.

What the heck is this FrankenMagistrate? I haven’t seen all that many shows, so lookin’ each one of ‘em up on my phone is a real pain.

KEITO: Is this the one you’re asking about? After Vampire Shogun became a hit, this show tried to imitate its style to profit off the same genre.

Though it never became a renowned work, this legal drama depicts the famously wise and integrous FrankenMagistrate who exposed criminal masterminds behind the scenes with court trials.

This work has not been rerun since, and I have only ever heard of it. Unlike Vampire Shogun, it doesn’t even have a sequel.

SOUMA: Mm, so that is how it is… Since this work has a magistrate as its main character, it can be considered the relatively common period drama trope of detective stories[1]; that is, the criminal investigation type.

After all, in ancient times, the magistrate was the local official in charge of a territory. Kiryu-dono, could you please check the ‘Intanetto’ for a detailed description on what type of program this is?

KURO: Gimme a sec, I’m lookin’ it up.

I can’t look stuff up as smoothly as Hasumi, so ya gotta wait patiently fer a bit.

KEITO: My apologies, Kiryu. I troubled you with the task of investigating by yourself.

KURO: No sweat. You’re usually the one doin’ this kinda stuff, Hasumi, includin’ the list of information this time.

Although I’m familiar with machinery, I ain’t all that bright when it comes to all this high-tech business.

Nowadays, new media like streamin’ platforms are gradually replacin’ TV-based traditional media. I gotta keep adaptin’ to these new things.

KEITO: Haha. Kiryu’s smart; he’ll get used to it in no time.

However, it’s possible that older works like this one don’t have much information available online in the first place, so it doesn’t mean Kiryu isn’t skilled at research. Even I would have to put in some effort to find relevant information.

KURO: … Oh, I’ve got it.

There seems to be a fansite for FrankenMagistrate. The design of this personal blog looks a little outdated, but it seems to have a detailed record of each episode’s information and the site owner’s own thoughts.

SOUMA: Mm, let me see… “FrankenMagistrate is different from Vampire Shogun; it is an incomplete, incongruous hodgepodge of period dramas and monsters.”

“And that is the reason it never became passed down the generations as a classic.” That is what is written here. It seems FrankenMagistrate is not truly a classical traditional period drama created with the core ideal of punishing evil and praising good.

The story incorporates elements such as ‘the troubles of existing as a created being’, especially in the episode that describes the inner conflict of FrankenMagistrate, and received mixed reviews as a result.

KURO: Mm, looks like famous works have their reasons for becomin’ famous, and other works have their reasons fer not becomin’ famous.

The summary they’ve given is… “Integrating science fiction and period drama sets an almost unheard of precedent”. If ya just read these descriptors, it does sound quite interestin’.

SOUMA: Perhaps that is the reason why some ardent viewers were motivated to leave a record of this work.

KEITO: ……

KURO: What’s the matter, Hasumi? Why aren’t ya talkin’ all of a sudden?

Haha, is it that FrankenMagistrate’s piqued yer curiosity? ♪

KEITO: Aah, no… Alright, if I said I wasn’t interested in the slightest, that would be a lie.

However, when choosing a cover song, popularity is an important factor to consider. Even if we are able to deliver this cover to some of the work’s avid fans, whether they’d like the arrangement or not is unknown.

KURO: That’s true. Then, let’s put FrankenMagistrate into the reject category.

KEITO: … Mm. Let’s do that.

SOUMA: Mm? Hasumi-dono, your response seems to be quite uncertain. Is there something wrong?

KEITO: It’s nothing. Just seeing the impression FrankenMagistrate has left on the public makes me the slightest emotional.

Wanting to create avant-garde content, but being seen as discordant— I can feel the creator’s determination to persist in creating what their heart desires, though as a creative performer, I can’t help but ponder.

SOUMA: Mm… that is correct. Perhaps what the world is looking for are those so-called mainstream, classic works.

We as AKATSUKI are also ‘aidoru’ based on traditional culture. So, to avoid repeating the same mistakes, we must take care to maintain the ‘baransu’ between new and old. Is this what you mean, Hasumi-dono?

KURO: Kanzaki really is serious. Ya don’t hafta take everythin’ to heart, ya know?

FrankenMagistrate’s failure could be because it was too avant-garde. If it were today, the public would easily accept the originally unfamiliar Western culture, right?

SOUMA: Indeed so. ‘Harouin’ is also one of those examples.

The part of Western culture the previous generation had a hard time accepting, is now widely accepted by the younger people.

The ‘Harouin’ of today is perhaps, for those gathered in the city, the substitute for their homeland festivities.

This extremely valuable commemoration experience is rarely available in modern times. And the action of holding our ‘raibu’, could also be seen as festivities passed down ceaselessly from ancient times.

KEITO: Right. Let’s end our discussion of FrankenMagistrate here. It’s time to look at the next work.

There are many works here that have been buried by the times. At this rate, our discussion will stretch long into the night.

KURO: Yer right as always. Then, the next work we’ll be investigatin’ is the show Chivalrous Hero and Child.[2]

SOUMA: Understood. Haha, I find this work suits Kiryu-dono very well—

KEITO: (……)

(FrankenMagistrate was too incongruous, so it didn’t gain favor with the audience. That is what the reviews say.)

(Really. It reminds me of the conversation with that senior a few days ago; both things sounded grating.)

(Using a brand-new entry point to express old things— this is AKATSUKI’s policy, the path I chose.)

(However, if I picked the wrong path to walk down, I won’t be able to face Kiryu and Kanzaki.)

The word here used is 捕物帖, known in English as a casebook, or a written record of cases dealt with. When Kido Okamoto borrowed the term for his novel, it then became the name for a genre of novels featuring police officers of the Edo era.

The word used here is 子連れ (lit. taking one's child along). It is possibly a parody of manga series Lone Wolf and Cub.

Scarlet Halloween - Masterlist

[yikesharringrove]

There's a Jersey Mike's ad that says "your favorite sub, delivered right to your door" and it made me think of Steve.. Maybe Steve is some sort of sub for hire and Billy comes across his ad?

This made me LAUGH.

Sub for hire meet cute.

Smut

Holy SHIT this got really long omg

Ao3

-

Billy was scrolling aimlessly, holding his dick in one hand, stroking lazily.

He was looking for something good, some pretty boy twink getting fucking destroyed.

He scrolled to the end of the page, and accidentally clicked on the add at the bottom of his screen.

“Oh fuck.” He tried to stop it loading, but then a dark webpage had loaded.

Subs 4 U - submissives for hire Your favorite subs delivered right to your door

He snorted, screenshotting the site, knew Heather would get a kick outta this.

He scrolled through, just curious about this site, the kind of work they did.

It was all laid out in steps.

Step 1: Pick your Sub

There were about twenty pictures, different people of different genders, all with bios and kink lists. He stopped on one.

The guy was hogtied on a bed, a ball gag in his mouth. He was looking at the camera with his big dark eyes, was basically saying fuck me, please through the photo. Billy read through his bio.

Steve, 24, he/they. Steve is a bratty sub that likes being bound, gagged, and fucked. He likes being tied up, chained down, suspended, slapped, and spanked. He likes a big cock and an even bigger toy. Into painplay, full domination, humiliation, and sissifiaction. Looking for a Sir/Ma’am, a Mommy/Daddy, or a Master/Mistress.

Billy stared at his bio.

Would it, would it be fucking stupid to do this? To hire a sub to come to his door?

Billy had never really done the BDSM thing. Sure, he was naturally dominant in the bedroom, and liked a bratty little bottom, but, for how much hardcore porn he watches, he’s never, tied someone up, or flogged them, or whatever.

He clicked on Steve’s name.

It pulled up a schedule, with the title Step 2: Book your time. Steve was booked three weeks out. Billy can see why. This page has even more pictures, pictures of him fingering his ass, or in pretty lingerie, even one where he’s cuffed to a bed, and fucking crying. Billy booked a time.

Step 3: Pick your scene.

There were a few levels.

Level 1: Light domination. Perfect for beginner dominates. Subs will bring a collection of toys and gear and discuss scene options before hand.

Level 2: Mild domination. For more experienced dominates that just like an easier ride.

Level 3: Full domination. For experienced dominates. Full control (within reason) of the submissive.

Level 4: Extreme domination. For regular dominates looking for more. Please discuss boundaries with submissive.

Billy clicked on level one.

He entered his phone number and address, and put in his credit card information. It was expensive, getting a mail order sub for three hours, but he looked back and Steve’s pictures and thought fuck it.

-

Billy was making himself breakfast when his phone went off.

Unknown number: Hi Billy, it’s Steve, your sub for hire! I wanted to confirm our scene appointment and begin discussing expectations.

Billy stared at the text. He bit his lip.

Hi, Steve. Yes, you can confirm our appointment.

Steve (Sub): Great! You selected level one, meaning I’ll bring a selection of toys and gear I like to play with. Do you know much about BDSM?

I mean, I watch a lot of porn.

Steve (Sub): lol 😊 I mean like, for reals.

I’ve done some research, but very little.

Steve (Sub): Do some more before we get together. We’ll just stick with cuffs and stuff so you don’t have to worry about rope. Please get tested if you haven’t after your most recent partner, think about a safeword so you can have that ready, and what you want me to call you. Let me know if there’s anything special you want me to bring or wear. Can’t wait! 🌷

Billy stared at the little pink flower.

So he was really doin’ this. Huh.

-

Billy got a few books on BDSM to peruse during the next three weeks.

He did everything Steve asked, watched videos on some of the things Steve had listed in his bio, tutorials on how to do them safely. He got tested, came back clean as a damn whistle, and thought a lot about what he wanted for their scene.

So by the time there was a knock on his door, he was ready.

He smiled at Steve, who grinned brightly at him.

“Hi! You’re Billy, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me. Come on in.”

“Thank God. You wouldn’t believe the amount of times I’ve gone to the wrong apartment.” Billy laughed. Steve was easy to be around. He was light and happy and made some of the tension ease from his shoulders. “So, you wanna get right to it?”

“’Course.”

“You’ve got three hours. That includes set up and aftercare. Did you do some more research?” Steve had placed his big duffel bag on Billy’s coffee table, was pulling out cuffs and dildos and gags and impact toys.

“Yes, I did. Real research.”

“Cool! You got any ideas?” Billy looked at the spread Steve had brought.

He doesn’t really feel comfortable with impact yet, has been known to lose himself in things like that, and he really didn’t want to hurt Steve. He eyed a big dildo while picking up the set of nice leather padded cuffs.

“I want to start fairly easy. Cuff you up, stretch you open, fuck you.” Steve had a serious look on his face.

“Yeah, that’s cool. What would you like from me?”

“I love a good brat, so if you wanna play that up.” Steve smirked at him. “And, uh, any of the names you listed in your bio are cool.”

“Sir, is kinda my go to. And my safeword is licorice. Did you think of one?”

“I was thinkin’ Radagast.” It was the first thing that had come to mind. Steve grinned at him.

“You’re a nerd. That’s so cute.” Billy tried not to flush. “Okay, cool. So like, do you have any hard boundaries? I don’t fuck with piss and shit, and I don’t like being left alone, especially while bound or in subspace.”

“That all sounds good. I uh, I don’t want to be hit at all, and I don’t want to hit you.”

“Okay, cool. And what are you looking for in terms of aftercare?”

“Isn’t that, like the dom’s job?”

“Nah, doms need after lovin’ too. I like cuddling afterwards, but if that makes you uncomfortable, I’m good with that. I got a cat at home that’ll snuggle with me.” Billy pictured Steve curled up in a thick sweater, a cat curled into his chest.

It was cute.

“I like cuddling.” Steve smiled at him, nodding once.

“Alright, let’s walk through our scene step by step. What are you looking for?”

“Uh, I think I wanted to strip you, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah! Just don’t rip my clothes.” Billy huffed a laugh. “I’m not kidding, some asshole cut off a dress I was wearing, and I was so mad.”

“Alright, I’ll be careful.” Steve raised an eyebrow at him. “Okay, so after that, I want to cuff you. Like, arms behind your back?”

“That works.”

“And then, uh, make you suck me off, then get you stretched open, make you take this,” he held up the big dildo. “And then fuck you.”

“Great! Feel free to play into the scene, if you want to do some orgasm denial, prostate milking, whatever strikes you along those lines, is good with me.”

“Okay. I think all of that sounds good.” Steve smiled brightly at him, standing up. “And I got tested. I’m clean and I have the test results if you’d like to see them.”

“No need. I believe you.” Billy nodded once. “We can begin when you’re ready then!”

“You’re all good?”

“Yep.”

“Alright then, let’s begin.”

“Go ahead.” Billy grabbed his face, made Steve’s breath hitch in his chest.

“What was that?”

“Go ahead, Sir.”

The switch was immediate. Steve’s eyes were hazy, his body deflating just a little bit, submitting to Billy.

“Say it again.”

“Yes, Sir.” Billy let go of his face. He reached for the hem of his shirt, yanking it over his head. Steve made a disgruntled noise. “Oh, what, Baby? Don’t like it when I get rough?”

Steve shook his head.

“Words.”

“No, Sir. I don’t like it when you get rough.”

“That’s too bad, Princess. ‘Cause this isn’t about you.” He undid Steve’s jeans, pulling them down, slapping Steve’s legs to indicate which one he should step out of.

He brushed his hands along Steve’s body as he stood up.

Steve was watching him with dark eyes.

“Turn around.” Billy leaned to pick up the leather padded cuffs. Steve pouted. Billy cock stirred.

“Don’t wanna.” Billy grabbed his face again.

“Wasn’t a fucking question.” He was fully hard now, his dick flushed a pretty pink color. “Turn. Around.”

Steve did as he was told, hands behind his back for Billy to cuff.

They were each secured with a shiny silver buckle, and Billy silently thanked Steve for bringing them, not making Billy figure out rope.

He finished cuffing Steve, plastering himself to the back of his body, grinding his hard dick into Steve’s ass.

Steve sighed out a moan.

“Feel how hard you’re makin’ me, Sugar?” He leaned forward to nose along Steve’s neck. He titled his head, baring his neck for Billy. “What’re you gonna do about it?”

“Anything you want, Sir. Let you do anything.”

“Of course you will. ‘Cause you don’t have any choice.” Steve whined, pressing his ass back against the front of Billy’s hips.

Billy pushed off him, sitting heavily in his armchair.

Steve looked over his shoulder, eyes all big and pouty.

“C’mere, Baby.” Steve was on his in a flash, nestling in his lap, looking through his lashes at Billy. Billy sighed. “Did I say you could sit on my lap?”

“Just, just wanna be close to you.” Billy grabbed his face again.

“What did I say?” He spoke slowly.

“This isn’t about me.” He let go of his face, petting softly over his hair for a second. “It doesn’t matter what I want.”

“Good boy.” Steve melted. Billy leaned forward, his breath ghosting over Steve’s neck. “Now get on your knees.”

Steve slid off him, settling between Billy’s thighs. He leaned forward right away, nuzzling his face into the hard line of Billy’s cock.

Billy grabbed his hair, yanking him back.

Steve whimpered.

“You’re not listening to me, Brat. I didn’t give you permission to touch me.” Steve’s bottom lip trembled.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Sir. I’ll be good, I’ll listen. Wanna be good for you, Sir.” His eyes were all gooey with tears. Billy was fucking delighted, wanted to make him cry.

He leaned back, opening his belt slowly.

Steve watched with bated breath as he undid his jeans, pulling his cock out.

Billy stroked over himself, made a real show of it, swiping his thumb over the head. Steve was watching him intently.

“Go get me the lube, Sugar.” Steve flicked his eyes up to look at him.

“But my hands-”

“Figure it out. Go on. Be a good boy.” Steve’s breath caught in his chest.

He turned around on his knees, shuffling awkwardly to the coffee table. He was totally gonna have rug burn on his knees.

He bent over the table to pick up the lube with his mouth. Billy admired his ass, his skin pale and smooth.

Steve came back to him, bottle of lube in his mouth.

Billy took it, petting over Steve’s hair some more.

“Go fetch your toy.” Steve rolled his eyes. Billy leaned over, grabbing his face again.

He spat right on Steve’s face. His lashes fluttered.

“Did you roll your eyes?”

“I’m sorry, Sir.” Steve’s eyes had gone bright and watery. Billy resolved to make Steve cry at least once before their time was up.

“Go get your toy, and I’ll decided if you deserve to play with it.”

Steve shuffled to the coffee table, picking up the dildo, his mouth wrapped around the side of the toy like a dog with a bone. He brought it back to Billy.

He sat ramrod straight, looking up at Billy through his lashes. Billy set the dildo with the lube on the little side table.

Billy began stroking himself again.

“Open your mouth.” Steve’s doe eyes were wide as he opened his mouth, sticking his tongue out.

Billy grabbed the back of his hair, and slammed his face down onto his cock.

Steve choked when Billy hit the back of his throat. Billy pulled him off.

“You want me to fuck your face like that, Baby?” Didn’t want to get too rough, wanted to give him an out.

“Yes, Sir. Use my face. Use me.” Billy grinned, pushing Steve back onto his cock.

He guided him up and down, shoving Steve’s head down as far as he could. He could feel Steve relaxing around him, breathing deeply through his nose, keeping his throat open.

He moved his tongue expertly against the underside of him.

“How many cocks you had in this little whore mouth a’ yours? I bet lots. Such a slut.”

Steve whimpered against him. Billy tugged his hair to pull him off.

“Your ass feel as good as your mouth?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He took one moment admiring how red and swollen his lips were, shiny and slick with spit, a thread of saliva still connecting him to the head of Billy’s dick.

“Ask me to touch you. Beg for it.”

“Please, Sir. I want-I need you to touch me. I’ll do anything you want, Sir. I’ll make you feel so good, just please touch me, please.”

And they were the tears.

Billy’s gut roared as a few dripped down his cheeks, as his bottom lip trembled.

“Shh, Princess. So pretty when you beg.” He leaned back in the armchair, patting his lap.

Steve scrambled to sit on his lap, looking at Billy through his lashes. Billy wiped at his tears, sliding his hands down his body, digging his fingers into his soft hips.

“Ask me again.”

“Please touch me. I’ll make you feel so good. Let you do whatever you want.”

“‘Course you will.” He made a big show of slicking up a few of his fingers.  Steve’s breaths were short as he reached around him.

One finger went it easy, Steve’s body giving in to him.

“Such a perfect little cockslut. Sucking me in, so greedy.”

Steve melted against him, tucking his head in Billy’s neck.

“Feels so good, Sir.”

He curled his finger, gently brushing against Steve’s prostate, just teasing.

Steve pressed a soft kiss to his neck.

Billy pushed in another finger, pulling them apart, spreading Steve open.

He pressed them in deep, curling them, drilling the tips of his fingers into Steve’s prostate.

Steve keened and whined, his back arching, fucking himself back on Billy’s fingers.

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Being so good for me, Sugar.”

Billy crammed another finger inside him, Steve’s body fluttering around his digits.

“You want another one? Or do you want your toy?”

“Whatever you think I deserve, Sir.”

“Good answer, Slut.” Billy pulled out his fingers, slicking up the big pink dildo.

Billy lined up the dildo, using one hand to spread his cheeks open.

Steve’s back went stiff as he began to push the toy inside.

“Relax, Princess. Be good for me.” Steve was taking deep breaths, relaxing his body as the toy pushed inside, stretched him open.

He pushed the toy in as far as it would go, the flat base of it sitting flush against Steve ass.

Steve’s breaths were shaky.

“Did so good for me. Took your toy so nice. Does it feel good?”

“Feels so good, Sir. Thank you.” Billy pet over his ass, just left the toy shoved inside Steve.

And then he tugged on the base, began slowly fucking Steve with it.

Steve just took it, a pliant little mess in Billy’s lap His cock was hard and hot against Billy’s, smearing pre over both their stomachs.

“You wanna cum on your toy? Or do you want my cock?”

“Want, want your cock, Sir.”

“Do you deserve my cock?” He pushed the toy in a little harder, a little faster, making Steve gasp sharply.

“No, Sir. I don’t deserve anything.”

“No, you don’t, you little brat. You don’t deserve anything I give you.”

“I know I don’t, Sir. Thank you for giving it to me anyway!” Steve was writhing in his lap, Billy could tell he was close.

“Such a spoiled little Princess.”

“Yes! I’m so spoiled.” Billy was moving the dildo fast in and out of him, slick sounds and Steve’s moans filling the apartment.

“You gonna cum?”

“Yes!”

“Beg for it!”

“Please, Sir, I need to cum. I’m so close, please.”

Billy kept fucking him with the toy, leaning forward to speak right into his ear.

“Cum.”

Steve just about screamed when he came.

He covered the front of Billy’s shirt with his spunk, his hips stuttering and grinding, his back arching.

It was beautiful to watch, he fell apart so completely, his eyes squeezing closed.

Billy slowed his hand as Steve’s body relaxed, his chest heaving.

“Thank you.” His words were slurred together.

Billy pulled the toy out, made Steve gasp and whine.

“Gonna use you like the little toy you are.”

“Yes, Sir.” Steve was limp against him as Billy rolled on a condom, shifting Steve to seat him on his cock.

Billy leaned back against the armchair.

“Move.”

Steve blinked up at him.

“But,” his voice trailed off.

“Said I was gonna use you like a little toy. Means you’re gonna get me off.” Steve poked his bottom lip out a little. “Go ahead.”

His thighs were shaking as he lifted up, dropping back down onto Billy’s cock.

Billy was close, watching Steve fall apart had made him painfully hard.

Steve just kept fucking himself, his eyes hazy.

“Tighten up.” His muscles contracted around Billy. He kept going, taking sharp gasps every time Billy hit his prostate.

Billy reached down to play with his over sensitive cock.

“Sir, please-”

“I take what I want, Stevie.” Steve clamped his jaw shut, his bottom lip wobbling.

Billy so wanted him to cry.

“Faster.” He let out a little sob as he moved faster. “Faster.”

And Steve starting crying for real, his cock an angry red, hard again in Billy’s tight grip, his thighs shaking, his inner walls fluttering.

“You gonna cum for me again?”

“Don’t, don’t think I can.” Billy tightened his hold on his cock, jerking him fast.

“Cum, Princess. Wanna see it.”

He sobbed out, his sore cock giving a valiant kick some cum spurting onto Billy’s hand.

Billy bucked his hips, spilling out into the condom, breathing heavy.

He lifted Steve to pull out of him, uncuffing his hands.

“How you doin’?” Steve took a few deep breaths, wrapping his arms around Billy’s shoulders.

“Real good.”

“Everything okay?”

“Everything was fucking great.” Billy laughed, rubbing up and down Steve’s back. He checked his watch.

“We still have an hour, if you wanna cuddle. We could go to bed.” Steve nuzzled into his shoulder.

“I’d like that.” Billy took off the condom, tucking his cock back in his jeans.

He shuffled Steve about, lifting him up as he stood.

He dumped the condom in the trash on his way to the bedroom, putting Steve softly on his bed.

He took off his clothes, sliding under the covers to tangle around Steve.

“That was a good scene.”

“Yeah? I do okay?”

“Yeah, first timer. Did real okay.” Billy huffed a laugh. Steve took a shaky breath. “We could do it again sometime. If you wanted. I’d give you a uh, discounted price.”

“How good of a discount we talkin’?”

“Buy me dinner, get a free session.”

“I think that sounds like a good deal.” Steve smiled up at him. Snuggled a little closer.

[mercuryhomophony]

doin’ some research and havin’ some thoughts

I like joke sometimes about donating my uterus but I was thinking about it again recently in light of an upcoming birthday. In a few months I’ll be 29, nearly 30, and like - don’t want kids. Biological clock is not ticking, if there was a chance it’s well past. I’ll adopt all my friends kids as nieces nephews and nieblings, so like... I’ll leave my impact on them that way. 

So I’m actually looking at what would be involved in donating my uterus to someone who wanted to bear their own children and like, yes - it’s a long arduous process, and the viability of pregnancies still seems to be hesitant bc they’re trying to be careful dealing with this “new” proceedure (like 6 years, but still relatively new when you think that testing it out comes with a ~9 mo. process, right? Plus medical validity etc., etc.) Also, there’s not a lot of information I’ve been able to find about living donors and what’s involved in the process for them, which is a liiiiittle unnerving.

But the thing that hit me really hard, and I don’t know why, was reading about a procedure one woman had delivering her child with her new uterus, and came across the phrase “she had a c-section and then her uterus was explanted” and I was like - either that word doesn’t mean what I think it does, or it’s a typo or something.

I looked it up, and it looked like there were a few definitions that didn’t really confirm or deny, but after a more thorough search for other stories regarding transplants, I confirmed that it’s the removal of the uterus after childbirth? And for some reason that Really Really Got me. like, made me feel really sick? The explanation went on to say usually they removed it after a birth or two, which, SO LONG AS THE PERSON USING THE UTERUS CONSENTS TO IT, is really fine? I mean, at that point it’s done what it needs to do, right? but for some reason, it’s really churning up my gut.

The idea of not having a uterus myself isn’t a problem, either. I have nightmares about being pregnant. I used to have anxiety attacks every month over being pregnant or having late periods, whether I’d had sex or not (turns out mine are just irregular. Yay. /s). But for some reason, the idea of someone giving birth and then having their uterus removed, after going through so much to get it? 

I mean... I don’t want to give birth, I don’t want to be pregnant, but I know that some people really do, and I wonder if it’s worth it to them. I mean, it probably is. I have cousins and family who have touted the joys of being pregnant, so it exists, but... 

It’s also weird because I’m like -- Why remove it after a few kids? That thing is still loaded with eggs! But I’m not like that when it’s in me, so it’s like one of those “if you won’t do it yourself, you don’t get to complain about how it’s done.” It also leads to a probably gross question of how many times can a uterus be transplanted before you shouldn’t transplant it any more. (the answer is probably once). I just don’t know why it’s winding up my guts so much...

The other thing is, after I do more research, if I do go through with this, I’d really want a trans woman to have my uterus. I want to be able to give that to her, and help broaden the scope of research for making it a more viable option for trans women. And the sites that I’ve found so far are generally for cis women, tho a few of the medical sites mention the process for providing trans women with transplants too, which is good. There’s just not a lot of information about being like “hey I would like to get rid of this and give it to a woman who needs it!” 

Mmmmmmmleh. gotta think a bit on this. good news is, the places I’ve seen so far don’t accept people under 30 so I have a year and a month to think it over.

[foewreckem]

Prompt #21: Crunch

( Scion AU, 644 words, sometime in 2.x )

------

“And you absolutely, unavoidably have to be on that ship in two bells?” Aoife asked, shuffling through the stacks in front of her.

A novice conjurer had loosed a somehow loosed a wind spell spectacularly exceeding their ability through the whole of Vesper Bay, but their jubilation was short-lived, and anyone unlucky enough to have an open door at the time was currently dealing with the aftermath. The reception room of the Waking Sands was now papered in Y’shtola’s carefully-stacked research.

“Regrettably. Hand me that top one to your right.” Y’shtola reached across the table and Aoife handed her the sheet. “Remember, you must needs set aside anything referencing O’Ghomoro.”

“I charge two pints for a rush job,” Aoife responded, dutifully weeding out several sheets. Y’shtola frowned and cast a furtive glance over to the downward stairwell, where Urianger was out of sight, set to the same task.

She leaned forward. “I only promised him one,” she whispered.

Aoife kept working as she had been, but she lowered her voice to match. “A performer’s more expensive, aye?”

Y’shtola shook her head and resumed the frantic pace of her search. “You are incorrigible.”

“Aye,” Aoife repeated sadly. They worked in companionable silence for a few minutes until a rough yell brought their attention to the doorway. A rough-looking man shuffled in; he was obviously a few drinks worse for the wear, and obviously in the wrong place.

“Where in s...sheven hells is he?” He demanded this with some difficulty.

“Who?” both women asked in unison, curiosity getting the better of them for a precious moment.

“Tha’ bloody Wilfrid!” The man was shaking a sheaf of papers now. “Bastard needs… *hic* he needs to clear my bloody cargo!”

His tone was insistent, not yet threatening, but Y’shtola still lowered a hand to her conjurer’s wand, and Aoife closed delicate fingers around the small lamp on the table.

Damn it, they didn’t have time for this. Aoife figured it was time to earn that second pint and took point. “Did ye check in the bay? We’ve a lot to do and only a little time to do it in, lad, so I’m going to ask ye to leave and check in the bay.”

The man squinted at the sound of her voice and looked at them as though he was truly seeing them for the first time. “You say he’s *hic* gone an’ left a couple o’ Ul’dahn dancin’ girls doin’ the work?”

Whatever reaction he’d expected wasn’t the one he got. Both women looked at each other in confusion, then at the chromometer, and then back down at their work in a panic, exchanging hushed comments.

“Aoife, do you suppose he said that because we’re--”

“What’s he got against Ul’dahn dancing girls?!” Aoife was fuming, ears flat in anger, as she shuffled through the same stack three times. There was no telling how much time they’d lose if they had to knock him out themselves, and Y’shtola would possibly not be allowed to leave for her boat at all with a pending murder investigation, and gods she was going to make the conjurer responsible for this mess buy her another pint…

But when his heckling wasn’t given further fuel, the man made some disgruntled sound before turning on his heel to leave. It was a blessing of a resolution as far as their minutes were concerned, but Aoife found herself now with a level of internal frustration that needed release, somehow.

“Ye couldn’t afford us, anyway!” she hissed at his retreating back.

There was a loud thunk from the stairwell that was definitely Urianger dropping several books in shock. Y’shtola delivered a swift kick to the ankle under the table, but as she picked up the final stack of their search, her face was obviously contorted from an effort not to laugh.

“You are incorrigible.”

[defleurtradingco]

Epoch- Pain

(Previous: Cruelty, Next: Film)

Verdei’s house, considering the situation, was quite cozy. He was well to do and if anything, it kept Solaina wondering why he’d invited them all there in the first place.

She was sure it was going to be a trap of some sort.

Gray was the first to disappear, as per usual, just like he’d done at Osy’s house. As soon as they all stepped inside, he made a rush for the FARTHEST room in the house from the front door to sit and sulk.

“He did that th’ last time I had’im,” Monte had said.

Solaina could only grimace to express whatever she was feeling by that point.

Disgust? Discomfort? What?? She wasn’t exactly sure, but it wasn’t anything good.

Children...all of them…

“I know this whole thing must seem a pain, an’ frankly it is, I won’t lie ta you. Not that I ever intended ta do so in the first place.” They reconvened around the dining room table, with Verdei standing on one side, and Solaina and Monte standing on the other.

She had her arms crossed as she drummed her fingers. “Seeing as unexpected things keep happening, I want to be very brief with this. Grayson has asked me to help him locate his family. He was found out in the desert by my employee Mr. Wormbane here, and since then, he has been trying to assist him in doing so as well.

And now we are here. In your house.”

“Right then.” Verdei sighed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes back into his skull. “My turn.

Gray’s been singin’ the same song fer years about the whole family thing.”

“What?”

“Frankly I ain’t so sure about it myself. I think they up n’ left if ya ask me.”

Solaina furrowed her brows in confusion. “What do you mean?” “Y’ found ‘im out there in the desert right? Did’e have anything on’im?” Verdei turned his attention to Monte.

“Hmm...no, can’t say I did. Just himself all chewed up. Them ghouls musta gotten to’m.”

“Uh-uh.” Verdei shook his head. “Ya might think it weird fer a cop ta suddenly step outta line (you know what I mean) in regards to the whole lil’ stunt I pulled out there when I pulled ya over. Now if I HADN’T, then it woulda been off ta the slammer again fer’im fer illegal drug and supply trafficking. You think general law enforcement’s gonna know what th’ hell t’ do with someone like him?” “Wait-” Solaina pinched the bridge of her nose. She was starting to get a headache with each new reveal. “How do you know this?” “How do YOU think? Stick my nose where it don’t belong, it’s easy. Specially if ya happen ta catch the idiot on camera, along with OTHER idiots.

Ain’t like they don’t know about him. Got warrants out fer ‘im. In fact, I should be turnin’ his sorry ass in, but I never do.”

“What places is he bringing these materials to??” Solaina asked. “Is it somewhere nearby? Are there others who have been caught doing the same thing?” Her head was reeling back to the conversation she and Liam had had.

Other Weres being caught with supplies, out in the middle of the desert.

Gray was a Were. He had to have been. He was one of them.

“From what I been able ta dig up? Lil’ hospitals and practices here n’ there that so far all seem ta be privately owned by that big ol’ gene therapy lab. They do a lotta outsourcing.” “Gene therapy lab?” “Oh yeah,” Monte poked at the inside of his remaining cheek with his tongue. “I saw th’ billboard fer that big ol’ thing on th’ drive up n’ through the Strip when I got here. Phoenix Labs or somethin’ right? Din’t pay too much attention ta it, they cure like...uh… illnesses n’ stuff right?” “That’s what they say, yes,” Verdei nodded, “Heavy research inta exactly what it says. Genes. Only time anyone hears about them is if there’s bad news. They don’t tend ta publish very many things out fer the public ta see. Kinda makes ‘em look like a shady bunch if ya ask me.”

“So Grayson delivers supplies for them.

And he did not think to tell me this?” At the rate she was going, even ibuprofen wasn’t going to stop the headache that was now developing in the back of her head. What else could Gray be omitting? Why? Was it supposed to be a secret? Obviously.

“I got a feelin’ they’re watchin’ him. And by proxy, us too.” Verdei’s eyes wandered towards a window. The curtains were drawn over it so no one could look in. “’S all a work in progress on my part though. Been tryin’ ta crack THAT case fer years but THIS ONE over here,” Gray, “keeps disappearin’ on me. And y’know, doesn’t help me. At all. What with the robberies and what have ya. And that’s just ta start.”

“Boy this rabbit hole sure keeps gettin’ deeper. An’ we’re stickin’ our necks inta it further n’ further,” Monte exclaimed with a note of humor in his voice. He was far from amused by the whole lying thing though. “So then, cat-boy likes lyin’ ta folks who genuinely try ta help huh? A’right then. I’ll keep a note of that up here fer later,” He tapped at his forehead in exasperation as he turned to face Solaina. “I dunno if we should get caught up in all this Solaina. Might be best if we head off-”

Solaina had a hand over her mouth and under her chin in thought. “Why have I not heard of such a place before...I know they exist but...”

Monte shrugged. “Dunno. Whatever it is they’re doin’ though, even IF Weres are involved- ain’t that supposed ta be Adrian’s business?” “Adrian,” Solaina scoffed. “He has not done so much as lift a single finger in regards to taking care of his own district. And if he will not, then I must.” She eyed Verdei again. “I had received reports about there being other Weres found in the desert much like Mr. Randal, only they were caught with the same supplies that you described. From there they were always turned over to local enforcement, as a military base is not exactly equipped nor staffed to take care of such things. Nor is that their primary duty.” “Military base?” Verdei raised a brow. “You mean-” Before he could continue, Solaina had already grabbed a napkin off a table and a nearby pen from a cup. “Do you happen to have the address of the main building of this Phoenix Lab company? Are they here in the Las Vegas area?” The officer shook his head. “Nah, no address anywhere I’ve looked. Which is kinda weird. I thought too maybe they’d have some kinda facility open in th’ city, since, ya know, Las Vegas. Big spenders there. Nada though.”

“What about the city’s public records?” “I mean, ya could try there. I ain’t had th’ time to, an’ the few times I did look I din’t come across nothing-”

“There may be something worth looking into there, if there is anything. Or maybe-”

Monte began to tune the both of them out after a while, opting to move away from the kitchen table. That was all they’d done at Liam’s house anyway. More discussing, more table-surrounding.

He’d had his fill for one day. A day and a night rather.

So he stepped outside, hands in his pocket. Only one came out with his phone as he sat on the porch to text away.

Been a bit of a delay. Might be some more days. Solaina’s gotten her nose into something again and no one’s around to help her. I’ll keep ya posted.

Aw...ok. Well do whatever you gotta do.

I know. Big Chinese buffet night when I get back, my dime.

Sounds good! Firefly misses you.

A picture came then of a horse showing its teeth at the camera. And at a hideous angle to make it all the worse.

Monte cringed.

Gee thanks honeybee.

[savrenim]

To Stare Into Darkness: The Infestation Incident Of Black Lotus Labs

As Told By Four Letters Unsent, Three Letters Sent, And The Official Report Drafted By Acolyte Consecrate Iria Strell

For those of you who have been following the gay murder elf bachelorette campaign (official title, In Their Footsteps We Shall Follow) (or have not been following but have become interested considering the number of memes I've been spanning of Book 5 of it), it has the backstory and narrative crafting of a full series of novellas more than a DnD campaign, and the fourth book recently came to its magnificent conclusion. (hence the Book 5 memes). Which means, of course, that I have to write a novella about it.

gay murder elf bachelorette tells the story of Iria Strell, a Caedic elf and solid villain of this setting considering the Caedic Empire is an aggressively expansionist empire whose magic is fueled and religion is centered around blood sacrifice. It is equal parts Iria Strell being evil doin’ her cool evil things and Iria Strell falling in love with every pretty girl who crosses her path, so a lot of fun.

there exists a Book 2 and a Book 3 summary as well, if you haven’t read them either feel free to read them or just have fun here with context clues, this one stands alone pretty well and is a lot more readable than the others because I had to actually seriously think about what parts of it made a Good Story out of the....nearly 33 hours of recording that were made of the six chapters. and I think a Good Story did come out! so if you’re willing to stick with me, boy do I have a wild ride for you consisting of: friendship, gayness, twisted emotions of wondering if you’re good enough, coping with the slow loss of mobility from an old injury while adjusting to civilian life, mad science, more gayness, and the friends you make and bonds you forge while dealing with a surprise zombie-coral-crystal-parasite-fungus attack together at your mad science lab.

(tw very mild body horror-- third paragraph of the first (unsent) letter to Talvus, midway through second to last paragraph of the first (unsent) letter to Maldai Varricon, and third paragraph of the official report. also a mild amount of stabbing scattered throughout, but this came from DnD so what do you expect, and a large amount of stabbing in the final battle, which hopefully should be fairly obvious when it begins, also in the official report.)

_______________________

Dear Talvus,

There’s no way I’m going to send this letter, considering you disappeared without saying goodbye, let alone leaving a mailing address; but I’ve been stuck in bed for three days with a broken leg and am supposed to stay put for another two, which means I’ve really got nothing better to do than write.

So I left for Black Lotus Labs, in Insul. I work for the Department of the Craftsman now. I’m a junior researcher in Summer Division, which I was a little confused about at first, considering Winter Division is the Division doing all of the research regarding developments for the Army, but it immediately became very clear that I was assigned to Summer. I’m like a dragon amongst lizards—a scientist, not someone in the guard division, but who has active combat experience. The expedition that I was assigned to certainly was dangerous enough to merit that, hence the broken leg, although the fight with the dryad may have been the least dangerous part.

There’s something here called the Misery. It’s strange and fascinating—not magical in and of itself, we don’t think, just a stage in the life cycle of the moths. It starts out as a cloud of thick mist, although you can see the maggots on the trees before you get to the mist proper. The maggots materialize on color, and leech it away to a stark white. That’s why we had to wear these large, unwieldy full-body suits with a breathing apparatus and mask that filtered air through black cloth; otherwise, the maggots would form in our lungs. They eventually transform into moths, which eat flesh. Very unpleasant, but not particularly deadly, they don’t travel in large numbers and they die when you swat them same as normal moths.

But what the Misery was caused by—well, we call it the Catalyst. It was an artifact in some ancient temple; Talvus, the temple alone is something worthy of years of study. It had working magical wards in the walls and the floors, and it must have been abandoned for centuries. Think of what we could do if we could store spells in objects—powerful spells—that showed little to no decay, that activated on a trigger without needing a mage to activate them.

(I know, my motives are painfully clear. Can’t let the mages have all the fun. One day technology will catch up with you, just you wait.)

But the temple—two or so years back, an expedition found it, and they found the Catalyst in the center of it. They did something, and it exploded. Lux Maelius, our Senior Research Lead, and Ovir Arbutus, a Research Lead now but he was only a guard at the time—they were the only two survivors, because they were outside in a courtyard when it happened. So they managed to make it out. Then there was a hurricane of magical energy that raged for months, then it settled down into the Misery.

We set up makeshift labs in the heart of the Misery, near the ruins. We spent a few days studying it, running tests. I was able to figure out some things about Green magic and life magic that might be adaptable into better healing potions. Two researchers joined us partway—Vennikus, you remember her from when she visited us on the front?, and a friend of hers, Chaera Canth. I tried to jump in a little bit on some of the bugswarm intelligence projects Vennikus was doing, because it seemed slightly more exciting than staring at mist, but I was making more progress staring at mist so eventually I went back to that. This sort of research isn’t really my forte and I was thrown right in with barely an hour to drop my stuff off in my rooms before I was told the expedition was leaving, and I was informed about the Misery as we walked through it. It’s not like it was a waste of time, by any means. I did contribute some things. Suggest some experimental setups. But the real reason we were here became evident when Arbutus and Lux started arguing. Arbutus wanted us to bring the Catalyst out of the Misery, so that it could properly be studied. We took a vote on who would be willing to risk themselves to fetch it. I, of course, volunteered. I know she said why would you seek it, but, well, the Wolf said that to the both of us together and you weren’t here. Besides, it was Serae that was half blown off the map, not Insul.

So we went into the ruins and we set up another makeshift lab around the Catalyst. It is not particularly impressive in appearance: a large, dark, opaque crystal, perhaps the size and shape of a forearm, floating above the pedestal. More notable was how it felt, even to me, rooms away. Like something was just off. Like that twinge in your stomach right before you get nauseous, and it only got stronger the closer we got. And if that was my reaction, well, I’m sure you’d hate it. It has these sparks that seem to interact in my favorite way with life and magic and the stability of energy, namely, by exploding. We’ve tested it against leaves and small bugs—it will annihilate them completely. Felt a little bit dangerous to be doing all the tests considering we weren’t sure what made it explode into the Misery in the first place, but we managed to conclude “don’t let it touch living things and it won’t explode too much.” And we had to, in order to properly design the container to take it back. Arbutus argued and won that we couldn’t just leave it. We made a makeshift case and packed it up with the rest of our stuff to head back to the main labs.

The dryad attacked us a little bit after we got out of the Misery, so at least we could breathe properly again and had the suits half off. It made these golems that went for the carts, but we had three other ex-military folks of some kind or another on the expedition, so I left them to deal with that and leapt straight into the grove of trees and thorns that it summoned around itself, and then we just…fought it out. I was close, I was so close to taking it down. But it got a really good hit in that cracked my femur and then decided it wasn’t worth it and booked it, and delivering the Catalyst to Black Lotus Labs was more important than going after a single native resistance fighter. Although I still have no idea whether or not it was attacking us for the fun of attacking us, because we’re Caedic and this island has decided it hates all things Caedic, or if it actually knew something about the Catalyst. I tried asking it—her, maybe?—you know how chatty I get when fighting—but I’m pretty sure she didn’t speak our language, as all she did was scream incomprehensibly back at me. So now I’m here after my first successful week sitting around in the med bay with a philosophy book Vennikus brought me and some security reports and a couple of interesting research papers, killing time until I’m allowed up and about and back to the labs where I can start working on the healing potions and merging of Green magic and ritual magic properly.

Let’s see, what else is there. I’ve been making friends. There’s Arbutus, who first told me that I didn’t need to act all formal because we weren’t in as strict a hierarchy as the military when I gave him a whole rundown before the expedition about my combat abilities and drawbacks and what I’d be like in a fight because I let Silvanus down when we were attacked on the way from the ships to the labs by a satyr—Saren according to the report the guards here have on him—and these great terrible lizards called dinosaurs he had gathered, because I fainted when I shouldn’t have. After the fight where I kicked all their asses but, well. I still went down. So Silvanus has seen me faint but she was on the “let’s get the Catalyst” side and does seem to at least give me credit for my skills. She has a spear, she’s really cool. I’m still really gay. I think she thinks I’m cool. Please don’t make fun of my attention span. Anyways, Arbutus might be mad at me because a few days after his whole speech about there being no ranks here I gave a fairly impassioned rant in front of the whole expedition about how if we were going to bring the Catalyst out, we couldn’t bring it back to the labs, a separate bunker had to be made until we knew what made it explode or we’d be putting all the Empire’s research at risk, and he told me that first of all, I was right and they’d build a bunker, and second, okay there still kind of were ranks here and I should never speak to him like that again. 

Who else. Vennikus is here, and possibly flirting with me. She has a friend, as I mentioned, Canth, so hopefully that’ll go over fine, Canth seems to tolerate me without any problems. And I met Lia Bassus and Talia Aurelia on the ship over, Lia Bassus is trying to do magical transportation and so came with us into the Misery, and Talia’s working on this project that looks into other planes. As in entirely other realities superimposed over our own. There's this weird strange grey realm that she showed me, (perhaps the Arcane Other?), and though it was full daylight when she ran the experiment, through the window of the little room her team had cobbled together, I could see the distant stars of a different sky. Neither her nor Lia Bassus seemed particularly impressed by my altar when I mentioned it on the boat, so I’m pretty sure I’m not at all exceptional for what the expected level of creativity and craftsmanship is here. I guess I’ll be joining everyone for normal day-to-day research as soon as this leg heals.

I miss you, a lot. I hope you’re having just as much fun as me, wherever you are. Hopefully not with the broken leg. Still, totally worth it.

Love, Iria

———

Dear Talvus,

So I work in Winter Division now. Remember Galen Torus? The Exarch who was there when we were presenting the delayed explosive designs to Professor Acari? He showed up and requested me and just me for a special secret Winter Division project. And then promoted me to Senior Researcher on the spot because he was annoyed that I wasn’t being immediately given full access to things for the project because of my Junior Researcher status, which is one way to climb the ranks here, I guess.

There was this…mechanical contraption, found wrecked in the jungle. Some sort of war machine, we think. It looks like a humanoid—it has arms, and legs—but its interior entirely consists of clockwork. Galen and I have spent a few days examining it and nothing magical animated it. It’s just metal. But it moved and it fought and we’re going to figure out what made it tick.

He says that this work is of upmost importance to the Empire, and he’s stayed at the labs to work on it himself, but he still hasn’t pulled anyone but me for the project. I don’t know if it’s because it’s more efficient to work alone, or if the project is more secret than it appeared to be, or if I’m more useful at these kinds of things than I thought. Mechanics make sense to me.

I’ve been working as hard as I can to try not to disappoint him. I stay in the labs the entire day, except unlike you, I grab extra rations at breakfast so I can go through lunch without skipping the actual eating part. I hope that you’re remembering to eat.

Love, Iria

———

Dear Talvus,

So everything’s gone to shit, as it does.

It was just another normal day at the labs, and then the dryad and the satyr and a whole bunch of dinosaurs made the first actually organized attack. Galen and I were working on the construct when it happened. We heard it first. I had a prototype of a weapon from the construct that I was able to strap on in time for the first dinosaur that burst into the room, which at this point I was very efficient in dispatching of. Then the dryad that came after it, which I had a bit harder of a time dealing with. I fought it to a standstill, but it wasn't enough without a proper pair of weapons to gain any sort of upper hand, and all it took was a stumble for the thing to slip past me and attack Galen. I stared in horror as blood spurted from him and he was pushed backwards—only he didn't fall, and the blood didn't flow, it condensed into the shape of a sword and he flicked it out and it cut with no resistance through a large portion of the dryad's hand. She stepped back, in shock, and then turned and fled. Galen turned to me, his back straight, his face hard, his eyes bright. He tossed me the sword. I caught it.

"Finish it," he said.

I grinned and turned to chase the thing.

The rest was...it was both crystal clear and a blur to me, Talvus. I've never gone so deep, so cold, there was something bubbling inside of me like some sort of rage, a perfect insanity. The only thing that remained in my mind were Galen Torus's orders, echoing, Finish it. I know that this sounds like...like there was some sort of compulsion associated with those words, but there wasn't. It's just—he's been this untouchable, unreachable figure. I've worked with him day in and day out for over a month and I haven't been able to get any sort of read on him, or on whether he thinks my work has at all been adequate. I was so ready, Talvus. I was so ready to be responsible, to stay and guard the construct, to admit that it was no longer my role to bring enemies of the Empire to the sharp end of my blade. But in my heart of hearts, I wanted to fight. And there was Galen Torus, showing the closest thing I had seen to an emotion from him in the vicious tilt of his smile, throwing me a sword made of his own blood and ordering me to do the one thing that I wanted to do more than anything else.

In that moment, I would have done anything for him.

I tore through two—maybe three?—of the smaller raptors sprinting along the destruction the dryad had left in its wake. They barely slowed me down. I was getting to a part of the facility that I was unfamiliar with. The dryad's path led to a larger open room with cots, almost like a medical bay, which was strange, because there already was a medical bay and not really enough people getting hurt here day to day to need another. Some guards were off in one corner fighting off more dinosaurs. The dryad was in the other corner, and I lurched forwards, ready to Finish it, when someone in Senior Research Lead robes and a cane got absolutely mauled by one of the larger dinosaurs across the other entrance. I absolutely would not have cared, except with one motion of his hand he magicked his guts back together, finished speedwalking across the room, threw healing on me (which in hindsight, was much appreciated), then wheezed, "I trust from the look on your face that you're rather more of a fighter than I am. I'm going to stand behind you now, if you don't mind."

I absolutely did mind, there was now a very large dinosaur between me and my intended target, but it seemed rude to abandon the Senior Research Lead right after he'd healed me, and besides, the combination of his rank and the power he'd so casually wielded made me think that there was a slight chance that he was an Exarch too, and I couldn't risk disobeying an Exarch's orders. So I tore through the dinosaur in four angry hits, and then as there were no more dinosaurs on my side of the room, abandoned the maybe-Exarch in the corner and finally closed the last of the distance to attack the dryad.

It was a difficult fight. But it—she—could not stand against me now that I was properly armed, and certainly not with the maybe-Exarch throwing magic of every kind at me to strengthen me as I cut her to pieces. And then, as I could still feel that strength roaring in my blood, I caught sight of the satyr Saren halfway up the wall on the other side of the room and just charged him. I had to jump, leveraging myself up a wall to reach him and I plunged the sword into his gut, impaling him. He lost his grip on the wall and the two of us slammed into the ground, driving my—Galen's—blade even deeper into him. He pushed up, scrambled back, tried to run away, and had his back to me, a cowardly death, as I whipped Galen's sword around again and decapitated him. It gets a bit hazy after. I'm pretty sure I charged the remaining live dinosaurs across the room, but at that point I'd put Bishops know how much strain on my injury, and I blacked out.

I awoke in the same room, on one of the cots, with the Senior Research Lead standing over me. Up close I could see he was nowhere near as old as I'd assumed; the cane was some sort of tool of the trade. Looking at his face, he couldn't be much older than you.

He spoke first.

"I must say, you might be the best person to hide behind in a fight that I've ever met. It doesn't really take much hiding when everything goes down in a spray of blood in a matter of seconds."

I wasn't quite sure what to say back, so I just replied, "Happy to be of service."

"You should be fine to stand. I've fixed all your injuries, and that old wound, well, your muscles have cleared for the moment. It's been long enough that they've unlocked."

His robes were still in tatters, and there were bodies of guards and dinosaurs still in the room, so not much time could have passed. His wounds were totally healed, although with his robes in pieces instead of buttoned up higher than most people around here wear them, a huge, roughly circular scar across his throat was visible, which would explain the wheeze. He helped me up.

"What's your name?" he said.

"Iria Strell," I said. It felt weird to introduce myself without rank, but what was I supposed to say? My robes denoted me as Senior Researcher. Consecrated Acolyte—right, Galen Torus consecrated me, I guess he decided that I'd done enough work—still, Consecrated Acolyte didn't really seem to apply, we didn't really...go by clergy rank here. Even though it's been months since we left the Army, I settled with, "I was a Corporal Specialist before here." I guess old habits die hard.

He wasn't wearing enough jewelry for me to judge where in the nobility he would lie, and the Black Lotus Labs uniforms don't include pips on the collars, so I had no idea where in the clergy he ranked, but he was wearing gold, so he was nobility, which meant no matter what I was bowing, and he'd been throwing around a ridiculous amount of power so even if he was too young to be an Exarch, well—he'd totally saved my hide, so I went with the deepest waist bow. I know you don't care, but then he said:

"Qaedius Galseii."

Galseii.

I had nearly snubbed someone Bishop family and had just... luckily guessed that I should do the most respectful possible bow that someone from my station would give someone from a station above me because he'd been good at healing and I didn't recognize that he was Bishop family and just. Thank the Bishops, Talvus, I nearly snubbed a Galseii, I know you really really couldn't care less but that moment was more terrifying to me than the entirety of the fight had been, in an instant of ignorance I could have made enemies of someone who now I think has a great deal of professional respect for me from the abilities that I demonstrated and I didn't because I was lucky enough to guess that hey, maybe I should show more respect than might be necessary to someone with such powerful magic. Well. It was really fucking necessary.

(We've actually been professional acquaintances since, I made the mistake in our second interaction when he politely asked me about how I was and I thought he meant my research not how I was healing and I got overly excited when delving into an explanation of the mechanics of the hand razors, because the hand razors are cool! which he shut down with an "oh just because I'm personal with my patients as my patients doesn't mean we should be overly familiar in any other context" and I just wanted to die but I held my tongue and apologized at the end of the conversation with a "sorry I just get super excited about research" and I think he indicated that he understood and Talvus, it is a snakepit ever having to interact with any other noble ever. I'm bad at this. I'm bad at it and I hate it. But at least I don't think I messed this one up. And either way, I'm still the best person to hide behind in a fight that he's ever met. Haven't lost that yet.)

But anyways. Woke up in the cot, not dead. Qaedius continued, "And, well, I don't know what lab policy regarding this information is going to be going forward, but now that you're conscious, it's probably best if you left Spring Division."

Which I suppose answered the question of where I was. We have a secret Spring Division, not just Summer, Autumn, and Winter. How fun is that!

Things have settled down again. I couldn't move at all the next day because of the strain I'd put on my injury, but the day after I was walking again. I went back to research with Galen. Well, of course, because I couldn’t not, I asked Galen as politely as I could where he learned to make a sword like that from his blood and where I might try to learn it because I would never assume that I could ask him to teach me but maybe if I knew where I could study it I could figure it out on my own. He said it was a technique that only he and the person who developed it—a mysterious her—knew, so it wasn’t something I’d be able to learn or find easily. I thought it that was that, and then I came the next morning to find him clearing tools off of tables. I was worried for a moment that our project had ended; I asked if he was leaving, and he said no, this was maybe the most important work we could be doing for the Empire, just that he needed the space if he was going to teach me. Which just flabbergasted me of what, I was worth an hour off of the most important work we could be doing for the Empire? We’ve been practicing ever since. It’s hard, I can barely make my blood take a shape, let alone reach the metallization stage, but maybe one day I’ll be able to make a sword out of my own blood. Never catch me unarmed at a party again.

And now things are back to normal around here. The rhythms of research. Spring Division, which was entirely secret, has been joining us in the mess hall considering most to all of their buildings were destroyed, and now they’re somewhat less secret but we���re all quietly pretending we don’t notice for the time being and until someone higher up decides what to do about the whole involuntarily declassified thing. I’m working with Galen every day on the construct. Qaedius usually sits with me at meals. As I said, professional acquaintance, but an acquaintance enough that I can talk about my research sometimes because he's actually sitting with me and that is the only thing that is discussed at tables because we're all nerds. Vennikus thought that it was very impressive that I fought as well as I did. She always sits with me. It’s fine. Everything is fine. I wish it were fine.

It took me a day before I could walk again, Talvus. I couldn’t get up the morning after. I can walk again now but it feels worse. Like something in my back has torn. All I can think of is there’s going to be a fight that’s going to be the last time I’m able to fight in any serious capacity, I don’t know when it’s going to be, I’m probably not going to know until after the fact, I just…it feels like I should be weighing every battle I go into with an “is this worth it, is this worthy of being the very last time I’m ever able to fight,” and under that scrutiny a dryad and a satyr that the guard could have dealt with themselves—I don’t know if it was worth it. I don’t want this to be the last time I ever fight. That Galen is wasting his time on me teaching my how to shape my blood into a weapon because how much longer am I going to be able to use weapons? What would you do, if you knew that every spell that you cast might be the last needle you had the power left to thread? How would you…stay you? How do I stay me when the one thing that I was really good at, the one thing that I ever really wanted to do, is not only irresponsible for me to keep doing, but one day it’s just…going to be gone. I don’t know if I can handle it being gone.

I’ve been doing some pretty fantastic science, though. I keep developing things. The hand razors I mentioned. Qaedius didn’t think it was cool. You probably wouldn’t care much either, but the mechanical contraption we found, it had weapons hidden in its arms. I’ve been able to make modifications to these bracers with hidden blades in them, combat spurs that I can use for interception and different vectors of movement. It’s…it feels like hope. This thing has to move so much differently than we move, it weighs so much more, but if I can adapt bits of its structure, maybe I can come up with a different fighting style. One that I’d be able to keep at, even as more and more bits of me start to fail. There are all the official parts of my projects that I’m working on. Trying to make mechanical magic and all that. But I can keep hoping for an entirely new way of approaching combat in the spare time that I have.

I bet Lex will think that my hand razors are cool. He actually answers my letters. He actually told me where to send letters in the first place. You better not be dead.

Love, Iria

———

To Vilum Lex Department of the Doctor Veteris

Dear Lex,

You’ll never guess who showed up out of the blue today. Our mage friend. The big dummy, he didn’t warn me he was coming, I don’t even think he knew I was here. I still missed him so much that I can’t  be mad at him. I totally rescued him from some raptors before he even got to the lab proper, so things are back to normal. Just as stressful sitting next to him wondering who he’s going to terribly offend today, although he’s high up enough in the pecking order that I no longer have to worry about him getting in too much trouble for it. And he’s doing what he always does. He immediately jumped onto Talia’s project just hearing it described at lunch—still partially bleeding from wildlife ambush wounds, mind you, but hey, at least he was eating lunch—elbowed his way in past the project supervisor to run his own test and impressed absolutely everyone by pulling a breakthrough out of thin air. And didn’t get in trouble because it was such a great breakthrough. It’s like something has been righted in the world, I can breathe freely again, I know that he’s alive and well and still…him, and he’s back next to me.

So you’ve got to take my side on this, you appreciate sharp pointy things. I have made these absolutely revolutionary bracers that look perfectly normal, you could probably even get them to look decorative, I’m working on a new pair with lined backsides so you can’t even immediately tell if someone takes them off to examine them what the payload is, and all it takes is a directed wrist gesture and out pops a concealed, specially sharpened blade. No one here cares. And then our mutual mage friend got here and he also could not see the appeal of it other than oh, another sharp thing! Like, does he have any idea how much work went into miniaturizing the mechanical contraption to get that all to fit in a bracer? And the spring-loading, in a manner that you don’t have to take it apart to re-load it? And the way you have to temper the metal so that it’s just as strong as a conventional blade, and the attachment mechanisms of the bracer have to be such that it’s just as steady as if it were something that’s being held the way you hold weapons, which let me tell you, was a non-trivial problem to solve. And did I mention I came up with a new sharpening technique? Which I’ve been applying to everything, including the hand razor blade. That’s cool, right, and useful? It’s already saved my life once because the corridors here are too small for it to be reasonable for me to carry around a pair of scimitars all the time, but bracers are easy to just wear and don’t interfere with range of motion when doing research and anyone who thinks I’m paranoid can tell that to the trail of dead dinosaurs and Fae I’ve been carving through here. But you think they’re cool, right? Please tell me you think it’s cool. I am surrounded by scientists who only appreciate things that stab when it’s all that’s between them and toothy death, but it is objectively cool. I will show you my new knife-sharpening technique if you tell me you think it’s cool.

Unfortunately, Vennikus and I haven’t gotten any further in testing the health potion, but I do think it’s still an active project? I’d have to check with her, I’ve been moved to another division. Actually, I’ve been working on another project that might eventually make its way to the Department of the Doctor, there are these mechanical seals that are a bit hard to prepare, but once you’ve got them prepped it’s foolproof, slap them on a wound and they’ll automatically deploy: it’ll both physically bind to the body and act as a bandage, as well as it imparts magical healing. I haven’t had time to test them in the field yet but I’m pretty proud of them, they’ve worked in all the lab trials I’ve run. I’m working to try to develop them further, make them easier to store, easier to prepare, less expensive to prepare, that sort of things. Right now the design includes rubies, and I don’t think there’s an easy way to get rid of that without disrupting the energy flow of the whole thing, but, of course, that’s a significant barrier to mass production. If you have any ideas, I’m all ears.

I hope things have continued going well for you. Let me know if there’s any interesting Capital gossip. It’s all very quiet here, everyone is extremely friendly and gets along with no drama whatsoever, because drama would be a distraction from research; which is great, it means no petty fighting that gets in the way of progress, but I hate being out of the loop. I spent three years in the Army being out of the loop, I have so much catching up to do.

With sincerity, Iria Strell

———

To Celsus Strell The Strell Estate Veteris

Dear Celsus,

I refuse to fall out of contact with you just weeks after I finally got to see you again. Black Lotus Labs is a touch far for visiting, and I’m doing such important work here so I’m not sure the next time I’m going to be home—which means letters it is. I’m a Senior Researcher already. And a Consecrated Acolyte. I am doing absolutely fascinating research here, a lot with military applications, because of course, that’s my specialty, but we’re not really supposed to talk about research much.

But by the Bishops you would not believe how much drama has been going down.

So there’s a researcher here—well, I guess technically she’s an Instigator, she is in charge of starting new projects, she was a Senior Researcher when I met her out when I was in the Army—there was a Fae font that we discovered while mapping out land near the Surrian border, and she came to take samples, and we hit it off, killed a Fae construct together, and I made a joke about if she had any more potions that she wanted to test in the field, well, I’d be happy to test them for her because she gave me a really cool potion that let me shoot fire from my eyes while we fought the thing and then even though it was totally a joke and that was not a good week for trying to get Arcadia to laugh at my jokes, anyways I joked that if she had any other potions I was happy to be a test subject and she just…handed me another potion she’d been working on and said yeah great I should write and tell her what it does. So I guess it did kind of fall flat. The joke. The potion worked great, it helped me and Talvus get a lot less injured than we might have when we were ambushed by a party of Rat Clan orcs coming back from the Highlands. Anyways, I wrote to her and she wrote back and I wrote to her again and she sent me this really cool beetle that let me see magic that was absolutely instrumental in trying to test my altar designs and she was just a really good friend, so I was excited that I was going to be at Black Lotus Labs because even if everything else was horrible, at least I was going to have one friend here, right? Vennikus Callo, my brand new friend. Right?

Wrong.

Well sort of right, I’m pretty sure we are friends, she was waiting by my bedside for me to wake up after I broke my leg in a fight with a dryad and she lent me her favorite philosophy book to read so that we could talk about philosophy together and she’d said that she was really glad that I was a researcher even though she originally thought I was here as a guard because she thought I was smart and could do a lot of good doing research here and she was actively nice to me in all of our written exchanges before I got here, like, really really nice, she didn’t have to be, I was just the soldier that led her to the Fae font and did my job of stabbing the thing that tried to attack her and nothing remarkable beyond that. And then here I was an entry-level scientist with absolutely no background in magic or higher schooling, and she still finds me interesting and wants to spend time with me. Which makes us friends. I think. It’s sometimes so hard to tell, I guess I still have trouble trusting if people really are my friend. But I’m pretty sure that Vennikus Callo is my friend. Actually, I think people don’t really make friends too much here, they don’t tend to socialize out of their research groups, but I’ve been pulling anyone and everyone who wants to come to morning practice to either spar with me or I’ll teach them how to spar—so I’ve gathered Talia Aurelia, whom I met on the ship ride over and has been a morning practice and mealtime buddy ever since, Vennikus, of course, Alexis Corinthian, who is great and ex-Army so by default the most reliable to spar with—and then the breakfast table is sometimes joined by Chaera Canth and some friends from another department, which I think means that my table is the single most cross-divisional table in the mess hall. It’s a really great table. Plenty of friendly acquaintances to go around for everyone.

Anyways. Vennikus Callo. I don’t know how to describe her to you. She’s really sharp, and has an incredible wit. Her memory is insane, she can recite entire passages from books and I’ve seen her listen to information being recited at her and have it down all in one go. She’s really good at fighting, she practices with me sometimes, and she’s holding back, I can tell. Maybe not a trained soldier, but she’s fast. And she just…holds herself with this poise. She conducts herself in a manner around the labs that seems…approachable. Amiable. Easy to work with. But there are tiny bits and places where you can tell that is a conscious choice, that she would have no trouble navigating the highest circles of nobility; I suppose she just does not see it necessary, or perhaps not efficient, to run a lab like that. She is an incredible project manager. She’s actually made a couple of jokes about starting projects in areas that I have expressed interest in, which on the one hand I do think they would be interesting projects but on the other hand I was too busy at the time to jump on anything else, and it felt a little bit like trying to use my friendship to get an advantage, which, also, while she technically wasn’t my personal supervisor when I was in Summer Division—that was kind of Canth, we were partners on a project but I was the Junior and she was the Senior Researcher—but she was still kind of my superior. Although there totally was a time where I had just figured out this way to combine Caedic blood magic and Green magic in this ritual that drained the life force from a plant and then could be used for various things and we were all talking about it at dinner and she seemed really really interested in it and I was like “listen, why don’t I show you, it’s only half an hour or so” and she was like “right now? after dinner?” and I was like “unless you have evening plans?” because there are usually a few hours after dinner before sleeping and people don’t always go back to their labs and she said great and we finished eating dinner and were heading out of the mess hall and she was like “sooooo….my room?” and I was like “oh does your room have plants in it? because we need a plant?” and we just. stared at each other for a moment. As I realized that I was a fucking idiot and Vennikus was definitely interested in me and I’d just been propositioned to and Vennikus realized that I had been 100% serious about just showing her the plant thing and hadn’t been propositioning to her. And it was terrible and before I could say “your room is also fine” she said “right, we should probably do the lab.” Which she also really was interested in the plant thing, we went to the lab, she only had to see me do it once before she was able to reproduce it herself which was pretty incredible and it was definitely not an evening wasted, we both had fun.

So I ended up transferring to another division and for a while I was taking meals in the mess hall less, like, just grabbing food at breakfast to take me through lunch and then a late dinner from the kitchens, which meant we were only really seeing each other at morning practices, I hold those before breakfast. Still can’t shake that Army scheduling of rising with the sun. Anyways, so Vennikus was coming to a number of those, and there was a blood magic thing that my….supervisor? mentor, maybe? —okay this is a total aside, but there’s an Exarch who took interest in me during the Trials at first because of a delayed explosive that Talvus and I developed but then he said that he looked forward to what I was going to do with my altar so I had to do something cool with my altar which was most of the reason why instead of just trying to design a functional altar I designed an altar with bronze needles physically threaded with blood that could cast arcane magic—and I’m pretty sure that he was the one who got me the job at Black Lotus Labs. Apparently it’s not that common around here to get recruited directly after passing the Trials. I guess I showed enough promise? He also had me transferred from Summer division because there was a project he wanted me working on and I’ve been working under him and it’s—it’s great. I’m doing so much more here than I was doing before. It’s just the two of us on this project, and we’ve made so much progress. I couldn’t be more exhilarated. I am serving the Empire here possibly more meaningfully than I have served anywhere else in the entirety of my life, and that’s what matters, you know? I just can’t help but feel that I owe everything in my career to this Exarch. I wouldn’t have done anything special with my altar if it weren’t for him encouraging me, I wouldn’t be here at Black Lotus Labs if I hadn’t been noticed by the Department of the Craftsman for that even if he didn’t specifically recommend me for the job, he was the impetus behind the altar and that had to be what got me noticed. And I was…mediocre at best in my previous division. And now I’ve been promoted to a Senior Researcher and I’m working on something that I’m really, really good at but I wouldn’t have been pulled for this project if he hadn’t specifically pulled me. At least in the Army with Varricon once it became obvious that they were going to keep me in their unit, well—Maldai was Dad’s friend. And I knew what they were training me for, to be a tactician, to continue a career in the Army. I have no idea what this Exarch has singled me out for, or if I’ve even been singled out as much as it was just I was the person at the facility who had the most relevant skillset and was working on the least important things and none of it is supposed to mean anything. But it still sort of feels like he’s mentoring me. Let’s stick with my supervisor because it’s safer and that bit I’m sure about. So— there was a piece of blood magic that my supervisor gave me to practice, mostly to build up my skills because I’m not particularly experienced in that regard, and I was just getting up a quarter of an hour early to practice exercises on that before morning practice. And Vennikus, who didn’t always come to morning practice, did start coming to those because she’s good at blood magic because she’s good at everything and just. She was there to give me tips and spot me, I guess, make sure I didn’t mess up horribly and hurt myself. I was using my own blood, after all. Anyways it was just one morning like any other and we were going through the exercises and Vennikus said, “Hey. Strell. We should hook up.”

And so of course my concentration breaks and there’s blood on the floor and I tried to play it all cool and I think I said something like, “Yeah, sounds good to me.”

And then she maybe said “Great” back and all I could think of was how utterly ridiculous and not suave I was sounding so I tried to re-gain control of the situation by, like, leaning back against the wall to look cool and I tried to say “your room or mine?” except my blood was still on my floor and it was slippery and I definitely slipped in it and fell flat on my ass. And she just. Came over and looked at me. And said “you know, if I weren’t already decided on the matter, you wouldn’t be doing a very good job at convincing me right now.” And I just sat there gaping in a pile of my own blood until Talia came in the room for morning practice and Talia was like “what happened?” and I was just. Still staring after Vennikus and had a moment of oh shit, what do I do, because I had no idea how public Vennikus wanted to be, and I had no idea what Talia’s feelings for me were either, like, I think I’m her closest friend? Outside of my morning practice and thus meal group, I don’t really see her interacting much with anyone? and I wasn’t really sure what my feelings for her were because, like. She’s a really sweet person. A bit shy. Really passionate about her work. And we’d gotten close. Just, I knew Vennikus and I knew I really liked Vennikus and Vennikus just…has this way of being so bright and sharp and multifaceted and makes everyone look graywashed in her wake. But also I…my feelings towards Vennikus weren’t really the romantic sort? Just. She was someone who was already my friend. And I already liked. And she is really really hot.

So I didn’t want to hurt Talia’s feelings but I also didn’t want to lie to Talia, you know? So I just kind of. Kept staring after where Vennikus had left, and then finally got out, “it’s fine, I’m just a gay mess” because that was vague enough that it didn’t actually pin anything to Vennikus if she didn’t want to be associated with me but it was also entirely the truth. And Talia stared at me, and then turned and looked to the corridor Vennikus had gone down, and then turned to me again, and said, “Oh,” and I really couldn’t read the expression on her face but at least she didn’t look….actively upset? And then we just continued morning practice and it was fine.

Oh, the answer was Vennikus’s room, which led to my second big question of so am I supposed to dress up and try at all to look pretty, or do I just go right after I get out of the lab in my uniform and not care? And I was really torn because I have been given solid advice from several sources that I should really try harder to actually look like a noble and bother caring about my appearance, but also, we were all really busy researchers and was Vennikus going to care whether or not I bothered to waste my time and hers trying to put on makeup and I decided screw it, Vennikus had known me for a few months, she knew what a complete mess I was and what she was getting into and if I thought a little bit of eyeliner was going to change her opinion now, I was definitely being stupid, and that the wasted time bit would have been a bigger insult. Which, thank Bishops, was finally something that I was right about, this wasn’t a “put on something a little bit pretty after work and we’ll go on as best a date as we can make happen” thing, she’d already changed into her nightwear, it was a fling, pure and simple. And that bit I can do. Behind-closed-doors flings seem to be my specialty.

And then, just through—bits of conversation, I guess, who’s passing who in hallways, allusions, maybe just instinct—over the two weeks, I became almost positive that Vennikus was also seeing Chaera Canth.

So Chaera Canth. I met Canth on my first week, when I was working on a project out in the field and Vennikus and Canth came to join a few days in. She and Vennikus seemed pretty close? They had exactly the sort of “why are you doing this dangerous thing” “because I’m me? next” dynamic that you only get when you are actually legitimately fond of someone. So I figured that Canth and Vennikus were at the very least pretty good friends if Canth was watching out for her like that, and I really didn’t want the same thing to happen with her that happened between me and Impera Casque during the Trials—namely, Impera Casque decided the moment that I met her that she absolutely loathed me and everything I did, and I’m still not sure why, because I didn’t get up and leave when she and Helena sat at my table or something?—anyways, if Canth and Vennikus were already friends I wanted to make sure that I was playing nice with Canth so that I didn’t have a co-worker who hated my guts next to someone that I was trying to spend time with. And then we were assigned to work on the same project about the connections between Caedic magic and Green magic and we were cooperating just fine as co-heads and I genuinely liked working with her. I invited her to my morning practices when it looked like we were trying to develop a combat application for one of the things we were working on, and she has the background of a ritualist and cleric, not that of a warrior, and so she had been showing up to those every once in a while. She was pretty good, too. And she was one of the regulars at my table during mealtimes. And she’d sometimes catch me and pass on messages to me after morning practice even when she didn’t come when I was hurrying off to get a head start on research skipping breakfast, because that’s the sort of reliable, solid person she is, who would look out for her colleagues. But anyways. We worked together for a while. She apparently really liked my altar design for Craftsman, we had a conversation one morning in our lab with her slamming down papers in front of me and going “Strell, what is this!” and I was really terrified for a moment and this was before Vennikus so I didn’t even know what I did to make her mad except maybe flirt terribly too much and then realized that it was just notes on my altar from the Trials and I kind of shrugged and went “my altar?” and she was all “why didn’t you tell me?” and I shrugged again mostly because everyone here had been working on things and didn’t really seem to care so I didn’t think she’d find it interesting and she went “how did you even do this it’s impossible” and I was like “because I didn’t know enough about arcane or ritual theory to know it was supposed to be impossible?” and she laughed and knocked me on the shoulder and said okay, fair, that was how a lot of discoveries were made, and I really thought we were friends. Think we are friends. I still do. Think that, I mean.

But she’s a good person. She’s a fantastic researcher and an accomplished ritualist and genuinely considerate and at this point it really wasn’t “I want to suck up to Vennikus’s friends so that I can spend time with Vennikus without it being awkward” anymore, I really liked her. And she and Vennikus clearly knew each other and clearly had history from well before I came into the picture even though I definitely did not know that they were seeing each other when I started seeing Vennikus and it was one thing if casual flings were the sort of thing that happened at Black Lotus Labs, I was fine with that, but if it wasn’t—I didn’t want to ruin a long-term serious relationship that Vennikus had if she was serious about Canth and Canth didn’t know about me, but also, I couldn’t help Vennikus cheat on someone who was a genuinely good person, which means I had to try to track down Canth and see if I could…subtly ask, or something?

Celsus I am so bad at subtle. I regret so much skipping out on those tutors that Mom and Dad got for us about polite interactions, because maybe I would have figured out how to be even slightly subtle. Of, you know, tracking down someone out of the blue in a corridor that definitely wasn’t in my segment of the labs to ask “soooo how are you doing” like it was just normal smalltalk and I hadn’t obviously tracked her down for something instead of catching her at or before breakfast and when that only got a “fine,” to “sooooo how have things been going in the division” to which I got a quick update on how the research projects were going fine to “soooo how is everyone doing?” which still didn’t get me the answer of whether or not she and Vennikus were a thing or a thing-thing and at this point I’d already made a scene so I just kind of went “so, you and Vennikus?”

To which she said, “Oh, Vennikus didn’t tell you about it yet? I thought she had weeks ago. Yeah, don’t worry.” I think. Might have been worded slightly differently. That gist got across. I was already retreating (okay, fine, running away) down the hallway blurting something along the lines of “ohgreatthankBishopsIjustwantedtomakesureIwasn’thelpingcheatonyou”. Which also probably was the worst thing to say. I have stared death in the face multiple times and I don’t think any of that was as terrifying as the moment before Chaera answered that question when she was just. Staring at me. Slightly quizzically. And I had no idea whether or not I had just detonated the biggest interpersonal bomb the labs and ever seen and was about to ruin absolutely everything within the tentative web of friendships I had formed or if it was all okay and turns out it was all even more okay than I thought, she knew about us from the start.

So anyways. I think me and Canth are still friends. She’s been acting like we’re still friends. The same table of us all usually get meals together. Nothing has changed, me and Vennikus are still seeing each other and it’s still great. Quite frankly Vennikus might have actually been dropping hints on purpose of “this is not an exclusive thing, I’m seeing Canth too, you get it, right?” and I accidentally signaled that I got it but it just went completely over my head because I’m so new to this. Big exciting false alarm. I wonder if Talia and Alexis think that I’m flirting with them still. Honestly just Vennikus is enough in terms of sheer time management, there’s just so much work to be done with our research. But yeah. Me and Vennikus Callo. Score for Iria Strell. Well. More score for Vennikus Callo, I was pretty useless in the entire process.

Don’t tell Mom and Dad, or rather, specifically, don’t tell Grandmother, I don’t want her getting any sort of expectations that I’ve been forging some sort of web of social connections or Bishops forbid any ideas about me marrying up. It’s just so nice to have friends my age again. I had Talvus in the Army, but Talvus was Talvus and my best friend and that’s never going to change, but is also a guy, and even if it wouldn’t be weird to like Talvus in all his Talvusness I don’t think I like guys in that way, and here I am surrounded by a group of like-minded geniuses who do the coolest science, are down to give morning defense practices a try, even if I’m teaching more than sparring with half of them, and are also all so pretty. So pretty. It’s great. I would happily spend the rest of my life here, if it’s how I can best contribute to the Empire. I guess I had Arcadia in the Army too. I have no idea what we are to each other. Did any letters from her arrive for me at the family estate?

Anyways, I know it probably sounds like I haven’t been getting a lot of work done, but I assure you, I have been making a lot of fantastic progress on a lot of fronts and I will do our family proud. I should probably get back to said work, I feel like I’m on the cusp of a huge breakthrough. Although it’s all so new and exciting that everything is the cusp of a huge breakthrough. I hope that your work has been exciting and fulfilling as well.

Love, your sister, Iria

———

Dear Maldai,

I've been working at Black Lotus Labs, for the Department of the Craftsman. I mean, I guess you know that I've been working here. Or at least as much as I could tell you in my last letter. The letter that I actually sent. Or I guess that actually reached you. I know that I cannot send this letter for a lot of reasons, but I wanted to write it all down, before I forget a single detail.

I met the Bishop Lucan.

There was a fairly serious attack—a dryad and a satyr stirring up some local forces—and I played an instrumental role in fending it off, I killed a number of their forces then both of them—but the damage to the facility had been enough that the Department of the Architect was taking personal interest in helping us rebuild. There were rumors that the Bishop was coming. And then one morning there were rumors that She had arrived. I made sure that I was wearing the best clothes that I had, but more than that, what do you do when there is the chance that you might run into a Bishop in the hallways of your workplace? Prostrate yourself on the floor solidly out of the way when She is walking down an adjacent hallway turned out to be the answer.

(Talvus…tried to copy some of Her needle design. While She was still in the hallway. She paused for a moment and I thought we were both going to die having utterly disgraced ourselves and our names because Talvus couldn’t keep it together for one minute when we were passing one of the Eleven Bishops and then She kept walking.)

The morning went much of the same way, Galen and I continued working on the research we had been working on, which at this point I had managed to develop mechanical wands that mages could store simple spells in. After an hour or so, he sent me away. I went to make myself useful in Summer Division, as I knew my way around their main labs, and I kept myself busy for another hour. Then there was a message spell, red light and Galen Torus's voice, telling me to return to our lab.

I could feel it before I got there, radiating through the door, the air, my veins. The Bishop Lucan — She was there. I had been ordered to enter, so I entered. She was sitting in a throne-like seat woven of red light, the same needles that had been around Her that Talvus had tried to copy, I couldn't — not that I would try to look at Her, but I couldn't see Her, couldn't see any more than a silhouette and the raw radiating power.

Galen was standing off to one side. I dropped prostrate on the ground, and then She — She looked at me.

It was like my mind, my soul, my self was a knot and there was a tug and it unraveled. Every — every memory, every smallest aspect of me laid bare, there wasn't even a me anymore and I could feel Her looking through it. I do not know how much time passed. It stopped rather abruptly. I was still on the floor, trembling. I could tell that She and Galen Torus were exchanging words, but I couldn't catch what the words were. I saw Galen Torus walk over to our workbench, and put the prototype of my — our — mechanical wand down. He turned back to Her.

Everything snapped and I was — I was more myself again.

The voice resounded, thrumming, around me, inside me, everywhere.

"A promising project."

Then She rose and the throne unravelled, shifting and fading into the larger network of Her magic that Talvus said had been suppressing Her full power and who-knows-what-else, and She moved past my prone form and out of the lab.

I met the Bishop Lucan, She looked at my mechanical wands, and She said "a promising project."

I—I knew that I was in over my head, working with Galen Torus. I knew that—that the project I was working on was of vital interest to the Empire. I knew how lucky I was to have caught the attention of someone so important, to work on something so important. But everyone here is doing important things. Talvus is the one—Talvus always was the one—who knew how to do important things, who was supposed to be doing the important clever things. I was supposed to be in the Army, training to maybe be a Captain, maybe a Legionary Captain one day. I was learning to be a Captain one day. This is—it's so beyond anything I ever thought I'd be doing, and while the politics are beyond me, the science, it seems, is not. I'm good at this. I'm as good at this as I ever was at tactics. Maybe not as good as I was at fighting, but a Captain can't decide that the solution to a tactical situation is that they go and fight the entire enemy army themselves because they're the best fighter and I—I guess I never really learned not to do that. So maybe I wouldn't have made a good Captain. Maybe it's better that I'm here now, working on science, technology, weapons for the Army to deploy. Galen Torus is still the mastermind behind this project, and I might not be a soldier anymore, but I know how to be a good specialist, a good tool, I know how to be wielded to do incredible things. And I can't say that it's mine, but some of it was mine. Some of it came from the delayed explosives Talvus and I developed in the Highlands. And not just the wands. The Arcanum cannons. We've—I've—successfully adapted it, created our own. The Rose Gun, we call it. Lined with rose gold. It's smaller, more compact than the Surrian Arcanum Cannons were. Enough that one strong soldier alone could carry it. The payload is not quite as powerful, I'm not sure if we'll ever make it quite as powerful, we're still in the most preliminary of testing stages—but the tactical applications are entirely different. This doesn't need to be planted on top of a hill on a battlefield and defended because it's too large to move. This—this is far more versatile.

There's a part of me that's just waiting for another disaster to happen. Talvus is here too, which means—well, you never got the letter, where I told you about the Wolf of Ears Eyes and Hands, or what she said. How scared she was of us, and not for killing her. I don't think there's anything related to anything she saw here, nothing matches any of the charcoal drawings we took from her tent, but it's still—it's too quiet. I keep waiting for something to ambush us. At least in the Trials, things kept going wrong. There was no letting down your guard. Maybe I just...got too used to war, but I don't trust that the fighting is over. I can't trust that it's over. Things have been quiet since the dryad's attack, and it feels wrong, but there's nothing to indicate that anything is at all wrong. I guess one of the researchers in Autumn Division committed suicide a fortnight ago, and people have been a bit shaken up about that. He dug out his own teeth, which means every time I wake up with my teeth even slightly aching, I get paranoid all over again. I'm running morning practices still, same as I did during the Trials and the journey before that. Alexis Corinthian shows up to nearly all of them, she's a friend of mine from Winter Division, ex-Army, so she's good to practice with. Vennikus Callo comes mostly to watch and sometimes to test a move or a spell, but she's a much better fighter than she's letting on, I don't know why she's hiding it. Talia, who's been practicing with me from the very beginning, literally since the ship we took out here—well, she's alright, but she's not good, it's clear that the way that I'm showing her to move isn't natural to her. Which is—I mean it's to be expected, she's a civilian, and she's more a mage than a fighter. She's improved, but I don't think I'd tell her to do anything in a fight other than stand behind me or run. Not that I'm expecting anything horrible to happen, it just seems...overdue.

My injury is getting worse. It's the natural progression of things, and I have to accept it. I'm learning to accept it. It’s not like I can’t still do important things to serve the Empire. I hope yours are getting better. I hope that if—when—the Rose Guns go into production, maybe then I’ll be able to tell you it was me, I was the one who figured out how to meld magic and mechanics, I was the one who built the first prototype, I was the one who developed the theory. I hope that you’ll be proud of me.

Be well, Iria Strell

———

To Maldai Varricon 3rd Legion’s Meridionalis Barracks Serae

Dear Maldai,

I am writing because your blades have been lost. I cannot tell you why or how, just know that it was in decisively defeating an Enemy of the Empire the likes and scale of which were unprecedented. As I still have the ability to fight, I was hoping to gain from you the knowledge of how you had them specially balanced, that I might commission my own pair.

I hope that you have been healing well, and that the Empire is triumphing on the Surrian front.

May that you be well, Iria Strell

———

Official Report On The Black Lotus Labs Infestation Incident Drafted For Filing Iria Strell, Senior Researcher Acolyte Consecrate

The following is a report of the attack on Black Lotus Labs by the Infestation, and the actions taken by myself, Senior Research Lead Talvus Zhale, Senior Research Lead Qaedius Galseii, and Instigator Vennikus Callo to contain it. While the end result was rather extreme, it remains my tactical opinion that the measures employed were matched to the severity of the threat this Enemy presented; not just to Black Lotus Labs, but to the Empire as a whole. I include at the end of this report all relevant information from the months prior that might pertain to this Enemy, such that a proper assessment can be made.

On the night of the incident, I had stayed late in my lab to work on a personal project as many of the researchers do. As such, I did not take the fastest route back from Winter Division to the sleeping quarters, but rather a more roundabout way that passed near the kitchens, that I might grab rations to make up for a skipped dinner. I mention this because the route passed a corridor which connected to Autumn Division, and it was in this corridor that I encountered my first instance of an infested body. I could see a figure lurching towards me, half falling against a wall as its stumbles extinguished a candle. All behind it was darkness.

I hurried forward to try to help, and I first perceived what I thought to be Senior Researcher Lia Bassus of Autumn Division. I caught her before she fell to the floor. It felt like she was shivering in my arms. It took my eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness that I assumed had been accidental in her wake; the first sign that something greater was at play. What the dimness of the remaining candlelight revealed was as if from a nightmare: the back of her head had been caved in, as if by a blow that I would presume to be fatal or near-fatal on a battlefield. Her hair matted with blood. One of her eyes—part of her face—was gone, and there was a strange, bone-like structure growing from the cavity in its place, spines curling into the flesh of her cheek. Some of her teeth had been dug out, much like Hieronymus Acari's body had been found—the Autumn Division researcher who had apparently committed suicide a few weeks prior.

Bassus raised an arm and struck me, cutting into my shoulder, and it became clear that her hand had been replaced by crystalline spurs jutting from her forearm, a strange shade of teal that seemed greenish-black in the flickering candlelight. I could not tell whether or not she was dead; it had felt like she was still breathing. As such, I did not want to harm her if there was a way to extract this thing without killing her. Yet I could not leave her alone and run and fetch a medic, lest she wander somewhere unknown, or cross the path of another without the advantage of my combat training. So I began to lead her towards the common room off the sleeping quarters, where even at this hour it was likely I might find someone I could send running for help. She shambled after me mindlessly, all I had to do was walk slowly enough for her to keep pace.

I abandoned this plan as I reached an intersection with a corridor that led to Summer Division; there was a shout, and I saw a guard running before he stumbled and fell, and was immediately overwhelmed by three creatures that were more bone-like crystalline growth than mismatched corpse. I immediately updated my assessment of the situation: that this was not an isolated incident affecting only Lia Bassus, but rather a full-scale attack. I left what I now believe to be Bassus's corpse to run to my sleeping quarters and retrieve my weapons and armor, that I might better respond to the crisis.

When I exited my room, armed, I nearly ran into Senior Researcher Chaera Canth, woken by the distant but rapidly spreading sounds of fighting and shouts of panic. As she was a non-combatant, I instructed her to stay behind me as I escorted her to the common room as established by the new emergency procedures. There, I decided, I could take stock of which researchers had made it to relative safety. We encountered none of the crawlers or infested along the way. However, in the common room, I noticed several prominent researchers missing, and resolved to comb the living quarters armed as I was for more survivors. Senior Research Lead Talvus Zhale of Spring Division caught me before I could go and agreed to come with me. We had served together in the same specialist unit in the Army, and as such we were familiar with fighting side by side. He was not nearly as enthusiastic as I was about returning to the unsafe territory of the sleeping quarters or corridors beyond, but we encountered no enemies to or from the sleeping quarters, nothing save the last living stragglers who were evacuating. None of the researchers that I wished to find were in their rooms, so we returned to the common room, Zhale attempting to talk me out of searching Summer and Autumn Division labs alone for those who were missing.

As we turned into the common room, my senses began to fail me. Zhale said something that I could not comprehend, yet I could hear whispering across the room with perfect clarity. The walls seemed to re-orient to a tilted frame. All I could concentrate on was what felt like a point of gathering focus on the opposing wall.

Then all hell broke loose.

A thing burst through the wooden barrier, trailing infested corpses and crawlers in its wake. Everything seemed to emanate around it, to warp from it. I leapt into action, running across the room even as Zhale shouted something at me that I could not understand. The Thresher was humanoid—a strange silhouette, with the jagged bonelike spikes coming from it, the unnaturally long and thin limbs, the crystalline spikes growing everywhere, but especially at the end of its claw-like arms, its deep purple coloring in the dim lighting, a triangular armored head with no eyes but dozens of small clicking feelers beneath it—but it was humanoid and it was moving so I assumed that it could bleed; and I was not yet used to my blades failing me.

The Thresher ripped through a researcher in a single blow, and the crawlers fell upon others. I attempted to join the melee, and an old injury affecting my spine that I had received in my tenure in the Army flared, and I collapsed. A few seconds later I was able to push myself to standing, and tried to attack again, and it flared again. I blacked out. When I came to, the room was partially evacuated, and there was a crawler over me. I shoved it off, and joined those who were fleeing, the guards forming a line behind the researchers as they held a defensive retreat.

As I wasn't running particularly fast anyways, I joined the guards without hesitation. The infested caught up with us as we held out in the hallway. I had dropped both my blades as my injury had dropped me, but I was wearing a prototype of a swift-deploying hand razor within a bracer, so I activated that. The things were upon us. I turned to fight. Yet as I lunged to strike my first blow, there was a sharp twist of pain within me, and I could feel something tear in my back. Guard Captain Saturninus Strabo leapt over my prone form, and struck the blow that I could not. Another guard dragged me back and along with the civilians, and so I was delivered to the Winter Division central complex, as Winter Division seemed to be the least infected and thus the safest place we could barricade ourselves. He deposited me in a chair, then joined the guards who were fortifying the room.

Guard Captain Strabo and most of the guards who remained in the hallway did not return.

After about a minute, I attempted to stand and found that I could not. I could still feel my right leg, but it was limp, and it could not hold my weight. I fell to the ground. This caught the attention of Senior Research Lead Qaedius Galseii, amongst those who had escaped the carnage and had gathered for holdout of evacuation here. Senior Research Lead Galseii had treated injuries of mine in the attack on the labs by Saren and the dryad's forces a little over a month prior, and was familiar enough with it to immediately locate a detached muscle and perform impromptu surgery to return me to my feet.

Research Lead Ovir Arbutus took command of the situation with the poise and authority that his prior experience as Guard Captain proffered him. We did not have the manpower, weapons, or fortifications to hold out against this infestation in any room within the labs, even the relatively unaffected Winter Division central laboratory we were in, for any substantial period of time. He ordered the full and immediate evacuation of the laboratories; to move all personnel to the docks and vacate the island, until the Army could return in force. He asked for volunteer runners to attempt to locate any other survivors in the laboratory and spread the news of this evacuation, and the rest of us would make our way out through corridors we believed to be least overrun, with all who could fight holding the edges of the formation. I could not run; it was a testament to Galseii's skill as a surgeon that I could stand at all, so there was never any question of which of these two groups I would be traveling with. I had the time to duck into the private lab where I had been working, to grab the most important of my notes, and prototypes of mechanically deploying bandages (both standalone and the lightweight underarmor woven of them that I designed). My second generation hand razor prototypes were not near enough ready for combat to be of worth taken, and the partially inlaid barrel of the Rose Gun prototype was too heavy to carry in my injured state, so I left them.

The group was already organized into its leaving formation by the time I returned. I joined the makeshift collection of combatants along the rear. Zhale and Galseii were within the group. We made it a large portion of the way out through emptier corridors, but there were too many of us to move swiftly enough to avoid confrontation, and these things seemed to be tracking us through more senses than our own. They came from the back and from the sides: the crawlers, partially consisting of scattered bits of corpses and held together with wild crystalline growths. The guards and volunteers began to fight them, and it became evident that these things could rapidly regenerate, that cutting them apart did little to slow them down.

Recalling that the corpse of Lia Bassus had been putting out candles, I suggested that we use fire against these things. After a brief scramble to get a torch from the center of the group to the fighters on the outskirts, we tested my hypothesis to great success. We pushed forward with no casualties until another Thresher burst through one of the walls. Research Lead Arbutus moved to cut it off, and I to support him, when a huge crystalline monster, well larger than the largest of the dinosaurs that attack, smashed through another wall. The Thresher's aura was warping my perception of reality, but I saw it slit across Arbutus's throat, and Arbutus fall; so I leapt forward and slapped one of my mechanical bandage prototypes across the wound. The crystalline monster was simply too large and too strong to fight. I was able to kill the Thresher that had attacked Arbutus, but its warping field did not disappear; it instead felt as if to strengthen more as more Threshers began to attack the back of the column. There was no hope fighting, I lost sight of everyone but Arbutus and the guard to his right. We hoisted his body between us, and ran.

We made it outside, as did a number of the others. I blacked out shortly after from the exertion. I came to on a makeshift cot a few hundred feet away from the laboratory complex, with Senior Research Lead Galseii standing over me and tending to my injuries. A brief assessment of the surroundings indicated that Senior Researcher Alexis Corinthian had taken over organizing the survivors to move to the ships at the docks, as Research Lead Arbutus remained alive but unconscious.

Senior Research Lead Talvus Zhale and Instigator Vennikus Callo were the two who had noticed, and were discussing, the larger implications than immediate escape. There had been strange, small, coral-like growths that had appeared extremely intermittently in various locations around the laboratories over the past few months, and Callo alone took the chance to study some instead of immediately purging them. They had seemed to grow from nothing, in a sealed and sterilized container, and Callo had discovered little more than that they must have been feeding upon some outside source, and that they were remarkably resilient, before the worry of contamination led her to dispose of the samples in fire. She made the connection that these growths had been precursors of the Infestation, and that they were not merely feeding upon and incorporating all living things that they could consume, but that there must be a larger unidentified force, presumed magical in nature, supplying them with the power to expand exponentially and with nothing material to feed on. By her calculations, they would overrun the entire island well before the Army would be able to return, and the evacuation itself might still be in imminent danger.

The mention of an outside force supplying the energy for growth gave Senior Research Lead Zhale the idea: that he might be able to erect something based on the principles behind the Warding Wall, that could keep the Infestation from drawing on this power. It would be an immense undertaking, and for it to work, he would need both to lay a ritual anchor and cast the spell separately. As he did not have the raw power and blood magic expertise to lay the ritual anchor in full, he turned to Senior Research Lead Galseii, a frequent collaborator of his, for assistance in this plan. Instigator Callo indicated that she believed she could invert a Green Magic spell she had reverse-engineered over her studies in Summer Division in order to mask the life force of the casters, which she concluded from her research was what the Infestation was using to see and track its surroundings, allowing the casters to recuperate overnight. She suggested the bunker where the Catalyst was being separately kept and studied, far enough away from the main laboratory complex to ensure it would not be threatened in the case of another Misery event, as the ideal place to spend the night; after all, even hidden from the Infestation, the jungle held many dangers.

After ensuring that what I had salvaged of my research notes would make it to the ship, I volunteered to stay behind and provide martial support to the casters. No other guards could be spared. Corinthian agreed after a brief conversation with Callo that she would hold the ships from leaving until the next morning, but longer than that if she had not received a signal from us she would not risk the lives of the other survivors.

The laying of the ritual anchor went essentially as planned. Despite my injured state I was able to hold off the onslaught long enough for Zhale and Galseii to finish. I blacked out again briefly during our escape and retreat to the Catalyst bunker, and came to safely laid in a cot.

The mages—Zhale and Callo—slept immediately. Galseii and I discussed our options, as there is a stiffness in my injury that develops after extended periods of rest, and it was likely that if I tried to sleep I would wake up the next morning immobilized for hours. We concluded that it was priority that I be able to provide emergency support for the casters in the case of Callo's charm wearing off during the laying of Zhale's Warding spell or during our final retreat through the jungle, and that the two of us would remain awake. Under his supervision, I performed a number of exercises to ward off the stiffness, and in the intervening time, I finished incorporating the mechanical bandages into the underarmor I had brought along, and Galseii a series of bloodrunes that he would apply to himself to cause a continuous damage to all surrounding enemies the next morning.

Zhale and Callo arose a little after dawn. In the light, it was clear that one of the stationary growths that had precipitated the arrival of the Infestation had appeared in the corner of the bunker. Upon its pointing out, Callo stated to the group that she worried that the makeshift Warding Wall spell would not do enough; that it would cut these things off from magical continued growth, but only within the radius of the spell, and that it would mean nothing for that which was already here and could consume naturally the life around it. Furthermore, that if any remained in any corners of the island when the Army came back in force, that it might come back, again and again, never truly eradicated. And that was assuming it did not manage a way to get off the island before then.

I was the one who suggested it. After all, we were right there, and I do not believe that I ever saw the Catalyst as anything other than first and foremost, a weapon. It seemed tactically relevant to think of all possible ways to make a thing explode.

"What about the Catalyst?" I said. "Can we set it off? Make another Misery big enough to destroy this thing?"

The idea stopped Callo short. Of all of us, she had been following the research on the Catalyst, and could speak to how it worked: that it disassembled life, and the energy field from that disassembly, if it encountered more life, would destabilize in a further chain reaction, expanding until there was no life left within the field. If it were set off in the heart of the Infestation, the deepest point within Black Lotus Labs, the growth-density ought to be enough for the explosion to reach the treeline, and the blast would overtake the entire island, giving a guarantee that units of soldiers fighting through the underbrush could not of the ending of this threat for good.

As a military strategy, I recommended it to the others as perhaps the only way, given Callo's modified calculations, to secure the island even after casting Zhale's Warding Wall. But for the potential of loss of knowledge and unique abilities of those gathered within this room was also a great consideration, not when all that was needed was for one to wait behind until the others had reached the ships, push their way as deep into the complex as they could, and detonate the thing as they were overrun. Callo was just expressing doubt that any one of us four would not be able to make it in deep enough to trigger a large enough chain reaction, when Zhale woke up.

"There's another way out," he said. "Deep in that building. Deep, deep in that building, there happens to be a window into a probably-not-going-to-explode arcane realm. Big enough for a person to get through, or several persons if they're not dead."

After that, it was unanimous amongst the four of us. With the Warding Wall cast, the Infestation would lose its regenerative powers. With my fighting abilities, emergency support and alchemical prowess from Callo, consistent healing from Galseii to prop me back up, and Zhale conserving his energy for the portal to the Arcane Other that he believed using the scaffolding Autumn Division had created, he could cast — the four of us judged the likelihood of our success and our survival to be well worth the risk of the undertaking.

It was our duty.

As there was little more to discuss, we set out to return to the main labs, the Catalyst with us in its portable protective casing. The first sign that this occurrence was different than originally judged became evident as we reached the clearing in front of the complex where we had laid the ritual anchor: despite the rapid spread of growth the night prior, there was no sign of the Infestation having spread beyond the buildings.

The immediate priority was the casting of Zhale's Warding Wall spell. I can report no technical details on what he did: he wove large and incredibly complex three-dimensional needles, using his own blood to stabilize the structure, then asked that the rest of us first hold magic in place, then contribute blood to increase the complexity of the spell. Callo added her blood first. I added mine second. Galseii added his third. Upon adding my blood to the needle, I could feel a connection to the spell, and could indeed both feel and see the increase in complexity that Zhale spoke of; upon the casting, I could feel a pressure, something outside trying to push itself in, but the spell held strong and Zhale's Warding Wall cut it off.

Callo and I plotted what we believed to be the most efficient route to Autumn Division, given what had been observed the night prior with the route taken to escape through Winter Division; what Callo had seen when she had volunteered as a runner; the assumption that the Infestation had started and was concentrated in Autumn Division and had spread evenly throughout the facility; and prioritizing routes with fewer ambush points or connecting hallways so that the casters would remain as safe as possible and could rely mainly on my martial expertise to push forward, instead of dealing with attacks from multiple directions. This route ensued entering through Summer Division. The assault went with few hitches. That which is notable, I report here: besides the infested corpses, Thresher, and crawlers we had fought the day before — we did not encounter another crystalline Destroyer — we encountered crawlers with tendrils that they used to attempt to grapple, pin, and pull in prey; infested corpses of the local fauna, namely raptors and dinosaurs, indicating that the Infestation had spread the night before then pulled back to the facility; and Threshers with vine-like appendages with a reach of well over thirty feet that they used to attempt to snatch and pull in their prey while fighting. There were also stationary growths on the floor that made no active attempt to engage in the fighting nor did they show any sentience or signs of moving, but remaining standing on these growths one would begin to sink into them, become ensnared, and their insides contained both an acidic substance and many small spines. Zhale's Warding Wall cut off the ability of all of these things to regenerate, but it otherwise did not seem to slow them down. We must have fought between a dozen and a dozen and a half of all of these creatures, myself taking the brunt of the attacks but Callo protecting Galseii and Zhale with a remarkable aptitude from behind, Galseii providing healing and some magical support, and Zhale carrying the Catalyst and conserving his energy to cast for our escape.  

In the final room between Summer and Autumn Divisions, we encountered our third sign that the Infestation was being guided by some form of overarching intelligence. The ground was covered by a swarm of strange beetles. Upon lighting and sweeping a torch near them, they scattered somewhat, but more poured from cracks in the wall and the floor until we were wading through them. We stuck as close as we could to the edges of the room, when we were struck by the strong mental pressure against going right; so we eased around the left side of the room. We had gotten perhaps halfway across the room in these conditions when the beetles suddenly swarmed together to form a massive column in the center of the room. The column lashed out and specifically targeted Zhale, and pulled back with the case containing the Catalyst, leaving Zhale on the floor. I had to leap into the column myself to grab and retrieve the case; otherwise the Catalyst and the entire plan would have been lost.

We were very close to Autumn Division once we had made it through the laboratory that had been overrun by the bugs. We turned into the final hallway, to which we saw a humanoid figure, slumped slightly; its weight somehow wasn't right on its feet.

Zhale moved forward and the small light spell he'd been holding cast away the gloom. It was Talia Aurelia.

I was standing in front, so it saw me first.

"Iria?" it said.

"Talia. Rough night?" I asked. 

"Not terribly," it said. "It all went well, all told."

At that point, I readied my blades, and drank a refined prototype of a potion for increased strength and speed that Callo had given me. Zhale pushed the light further into the hallway, and it became clear why it was slumped strangely: it wasn't putting any weight on its feet because extending from its back and arching over its shoulders were articulated pointed growths and limbs made of the strange mix of crystalline outcroppings and pieces of corpses. Some were lumpy but many were jointed, clean — an enormous form, something between a centipede and a mass grave.

"So did the Infestation get you, or was this you the whole time?" I asked it.

"There never was a Talia Aurelia. There is only us," it said.

Beyond it, the room was dug out, which huge, person-sized insectoid creatures crawling constantly over and around one another, a roiling sea filling the pit of their own making. The room that we needed to get to, the metal chamber, for Zhale to cast the spell that would allow us to escape — it was more than forty feet up a sheer vertical wall.

"What was it that you thought you were going to accomplish?" I asked the thing in front of me.

It lunged, sweeping with two huge claws that loosed a spay of crystalline needles.

"To pave the way."

Galseii cast something on me as I kept fighting, kept trying to hold its attention so that the others could go around and begin to set up for our escape.

"What for?"

I got three good, solid hits in, but it did not nearly slow the thing down — it plucked me up with one of its claws, articulated spines piercing into me where it grabbed me.

"Come on, we're friends, you can tell me," I said, and thrust up through the chest where the heart would be and ripped the blade out. It looked down at me, smiled, a bit of blood dotting the side of its mouth, and flung me into the pit.

Callo took over the more martial aspects of the fight at this, pulling out a silk scarf that she began to whip around, magic sharpening the end. It took me a few seconds to climb out of the pit, at which point the thing had begun to attack Galseii, and was trying to peel his head apart. I dismembered the limb that was holding him, and took the attention of the Infestation once more.

It was at that point that I was hit by Callo's blade. Her eyes were open wide and shaking, as she slashed it across my throat, resisting but failing to resist some sort of telephysical control. I was impaled twice partially through my torso by the monster. Zhale barreled across the room, as fast as he could run still carrying the Catalyst, and tackled Callo, making up for lack of skill with pure momentum.

She came to again, and shouted, "Legs! Go for the legs!"

I turned away from the front of the thing and ripped underneath it, cutting out five or six legs' worth of musculature. Callo pushed herself up and severed another leg.

That which had called itself Talia, its body tattered and ripped to pieces, chunks of lung and the remains of what was a heart mixed with other viscera, leaned over me.

"I know you though, Iria," it said.

It slammed another of the limbs that it had been trying to use against Galseii into me, knocking me onto my side, and a row of teeth dug into my back and ripped into connection points of the musculature of my spine. The places that were weakest from my injury.

It ripped.

I regained consciousness about twenty feet in the air, in a cradle of silk carried by a massive summoned spider. Galseii and Zhale were next to me. Callo was single-handedly holding the monster off, severing leg after leg with her scarf. The three of us made it to the door in the wall, and tumbled into the compartment. Once we were safe inside, Callo started climbing.

"I need more time!" Zhale said.

Recalling once more these things' original distaste of fire, I dragged myself to the edge and set the webbing that remained on the wall on fire, and the silk hammock that had carried me as well, to throw at the monster. Callo easily dodged the burning bits on the wall, and made it through and into the room. We shut the metal door, and there was immediately a great force slamming into it, spines piercing partially through. Zhale finished his preparations, using my discarded sword to smash through the glass window that had previously been used for viewing in this chamber, and cast the spell. Galseii finished doing something that allowed him at least to prop me up.

The original plan had been for me to be the last through the portal; the one who waited, who could wait and hold fighting who-knows-what while the others got as far through the portal and away from a potential blast radius as they could. This was no longer possible. Galseii and Zhale took me, an arm around a shoulder each, and half-carried me through the portal. Callo stayed behind. When we had hobbled far enough to hopefully be safe; or perhaps when it became clear that the chamber door would hold out for no more abuse, Callo kicked the door open, opened the protective casing, threw the whole thing out, turned and dived through the window, and began sprinting towards us.

There was a booming roar, although muffled; everything was muffled in the Arcane Other, gray, strange. There was the strange sensation of the ground shaking, yet far away, or perhaps a concussive front from the mass explosion occurring right through the window reached us before the eruption of the strange flickering red and green sparks that characterized the destabilization field, blooming out like a poisonous cloud. In its initial expansion it was faster, covering the distance Callo had covered much more rapidly, and it seemed as though all would be lost; but in the Arcane Other, there was no life to fuel this outcropping of the reaction, and it seemed as though all might be well; but the cloud clipped Callo and threw her forward with a force as it began dissipating. The window snapped shut.

Galseii left me with Zhale and ran towards Callo's prone form, even as she shouted for him to stay back; but the red and green sparks that sunk into her were not quite enough to set off a new reaction. She lost her eyes, as she stabilized. Galseii tried to pull from the Caedis healing magic to treat all damages to her, but could not reach anything. Callo waved him off and stood on her own, and without her eyes, pointed us in a direction.

We walked, for what must have been nearly an hour, Callo giving small corrections when necessary. The distance felt similar to the distance that we might have walked from the laboratory complex to the ships; although I am not sure if I could report more exact details, as the exhaustion of nearly two days' without sleep, the exertion of the previous night and morning, and the injuries that I bore meant that remaining upright and moving forward took most all of my attention.

Finally, Callo stopped us. Zhale took several attempts to pull and stabilize a needle, but he did, and we saw through once more into our world: the deck of a ship, for Callo's navigation had been flawless. Galseii all but dropped me through the window, and he and Callo followed. Zhale attempted to step through as well, but had been so exhausted by the amount of casting he had done that he lost hold of the needle, and the portal closed before he was fully through, severing a part of his leg. Galseii moved to cast healing, and Zhale to stop him, but Zhale was a moment too late—alterations that Zhale had made to his blood during the Trial of the Architect to allow him to use it more freely in needles meant that it reacted poorly to the healing spell and lashed out, destroying the hand that Galseii had used to summon the magic. Healing magic was cast on Galseii, and mundane means to stop Zhale's bleeding were employed. The ship, now with all expected passengers, departed with haste to carry the survivors and this news back to Veteris. This concludes my report of the events surrounding the Infestation incident.

I believe that this Infestation represents an unprecedented threat to the Empire. It has not been eradicated, it has been pushed back, and we have no measure of how much this defeat cost it. Its advance force had in-depth research on the Empire, enough to create and impersonate a noble, infiltrate Black Lotus Labs, and to know enough about our language, culture, sciences, and magic to fit in seamlessly in both social interactions day-to-day for months and in its research team. The appearance of Talia Aurelia could not have been a magical construct whatsoever, as it sat and interacted multiple times with Senior Research Lead Zhale, who has perhaps the most sensitive passive magical senses in the Empire and would have immediately picked up on any magical influences in the appearance of its body. It cast simple Caedic needles needed for its research multiple times, and once in front of Senior Research Lead Zhale, indicating that it was not merely parroting but had discovered how to fully reproduce Caedic arcane casting. It knew beforehand of the Capital and the protections in the Capital such as the Warding Wall; Talia Aurelia attempted to engage me in conversation about the mechanics of the Warding Wall when we first met, as well as the research and capabilities of the Academy, and was only thwarted by the fact that I knew little on either topic.

The mechanism with which it used to invade Black Lotus Labs is unknown, other than that it was partially blocked by a spell based on the Warding Wall. The reason why Black Lotus Labs was targeted is unknown; it is my instinct that the project that Autumn Division was researching that Talia Aurelia personally joined was perhaps something that the Infestation planned to use to more completely manifest in this dimension. This postulate is drawn from the facts that Talia Aurelia did choose to focus on the project involving dimensional observation for months and actively contributed to research for the team, that Black Lotus Labs was targeted despite being a well-guarded Caedic stronghold instead of some easier unoccupied place to manifest, and that within the labs most of the concentration and actions of the Infestation were in Autumn Division near the viewing room of Project that Talia Aurelia had been researching and that Senior Research Lead Zhale used to construct the portal for our escape. However, I do not believe there is any evidence present that could lead us to assume that the room and project were needed in the first place for the Infestation to invade, just that it was necessary for the second stage of the invasion.  

We must face the very real possibility that we do not know how many other Caedic elves are currently being impersonated or have been created entirely by the Infestation, or that might be in the future. We must assume that the Infestation has the ability to begin a second invasion anywhere in the Empire or in the world that is not currently protected by a Warding Wall, and its advance force alone—that which was sent to pave the way—was enough to destroy in near entirety a high-security Caedic stronghold with a large military-trained guard force specifically present and on the outlook for foreign threats.

I can still feel the connection to the Warding Wall spell Zhale erected. All four of us can. The force that was pressing against it remained pressing against it, with purpose, after the detonation of the Catalyst; it was only hours after the destruction of the advance force that the pressure withdrew. If anything tries to enter the island of Insul with Black Lotus Labs, we will be able to alert to Empire immediately. Senior Research Lead Zhale states that he expects the spell to hold for the span of a month to a few months. The Catalyst now lies in the center of a storm of magic. If its last event is anything to be judged by, the storm will stabilize within the year, allowing for the Catalyst to be fetched or secured at the Will of the Bishops. As for this Enemy and the threat it represents, the actions taken by myself, Senior Research Lead Zhale, Senior Research Lead Galseii, and Instigator Callo put an end to this incident. I can only re-iterate the words that it spoke to us: that it was here to pave the way for something greater. There is more of it out there, more which survived, which ostensibly now also has all of the research that Talia Aurelia collected for months on the very thing it needed to more fully invade. We merely stopped this outcropping, and we know not when it will be back.

———

to do list before reaching Veteris

-- check report one more time for anything missing. make sure no bias. they don’t want your opinion, just the facts. -- reconstruct rest of notes of Project Pendulum for Galen. do not assume any excuses will be accepted. cannot return empty-handed, especially not after destruction of the construct and prototypes. -- Talvus prosthetic design work in mechanical wand parts so can be used for spell storage too worried it might explode (coward). work in snack secret compartment instead -- work on possibility of designing Qaedius a working magic-mechanical hand prosthetic? probably impossibly/ beyond any theory work on it anyway. mechanical anchor based on construct—try non-magical scaffolding version first to model. if works, ask someone who knows better if offering to design with Qaedius would be insult -- visit Vennikus? would she want to see you she has Canth with her, not like she’s alone. still visit, make quick, show no pity or guilt you wouldn’t want anyone to pity you -- take notes on pain in exercises every morning. mobility in attempts to get through sword forms is improving. do not push or strain. not worth it. -- practice being better noble. greetings, dialect, personal presentation. do not write off any aspect. will need.

[isaac-lacey]

Chapter 7 of my current WIP

Don’t worry it doesn’t have spoilers or anything I’m just quite happy with the fight scene in it. This is also a first draft so it more than likely will be changed at some point. ___________________________________ Elder Barrett walked through the white door to his house, he had designed his house in much the same way he had designed the remodeling of the Ferncul college of Witchcraft which meant that most of the walls and furniture were white, the only colour coming a few books and in his case the plates and cups that you would find in various cupboards. His house was all ordered and symmetrical, he didn’t remember why. The last time he had remodeled his house was well over one hundred years ago and now he simply didn’t have the time to remodel again to fit his tastes again. He had his duties as the elder representing the magic school of conjuration after all. Not only that but he had his duties as Dean to the college to attend to as well. He walked up the stairs of his house, moving quickly towards his bedroom. The whiteness of the room made the five people that waited within stand out more. Well people was a vague analysis, looking closer he could see three people who he presumed were Witches, one Werewolf and one person who looked to be a Vampire. One of the Witches was first to talk, he spoke confidently making sure he was heard. “You Barrett?” He ignored the question and took his coat off slowly, making sure not to crease it. Usually he was one for efficiency and would remove anything quickly however now that there were five, likely trained, fighters in front of him he didn’t want to startle any of them. More because he liked this coat, it was his favourite shade of white and he didn’t have the time to go and replace it any time soon, nor did he have the time to mend it, this was one of the few things in his house he had not enchanted to mend itself with the activation of the right rune. “We been ‘ired to kill you we have.” He recognized the guys accent, it was from the Te island, the Southern half. He walked calmly over to his wardrobe and hung his coat on one of the spectral hangers within, they too were white. Next he removed his pants. “Ey the fuck you think you’re doin?” He ignored the question and changed into a pair of shorts making sure they were high enough that they didn’t go below his knees. “You even listenin’ to me?” He was, he had just decided that the man was a fool and elected not to answer. In his experience the loudest ones were the first to fall. He heard the man walking towards him and felt a hand on his shoulder, finally he decided to answer.

“I never understood why you people insist on informing me of your intentions. It’s a waste of time and to be perfectly frank a foolish thing to do.”

“Huh?” The word had barely left the assassins mouth as Barrett twisted, quickly pressing two runes on his knuckles before swinging. The loudmouthed assassin went to block but wasn’t fast enough and Barrett’s fist made contact with his jaw, followed by the satisfying crunch of bone as his head snapped to the side and his jaw shattered upon impact. He fell and Barrett stepped over him, ignoring the cries of pain as two of the other assassins jumped into action. One was moving towards Barrett while the other stayed back summoning fire, the two Witches. He bent down and pressed two fingers against the invisible runes on his knees, before the closest one could get any closer Barrett leapt towards the wall and bounced off flipping over the two, he ignored them for the moment and kicked the vampire, she smashed into the werewolf and the two flew through his bedroom door and skidded along the floor along with the various splinters of wood. He ducked under a fireball and span only to be met by a fist to the nose. He took a step back, grunting as pain ran through his head and his eyes began to water. He pressed an invisible rune on his neck and it healed just as quickly as it had broken, the next punch he moved around, darting to the side. He took hold of the Witches arm and snapped his other hand up into his extended elbow. The blow was met with a loud cry as the bone snapped, Barrett threw him to the floor and weaved around another fireball, he dodged around a few more before coming up close to the assassin, this one tried to jump back but Barrett followed and punched him in the ribs, there was a loud crack and they screamed. He caught them as they fell and activating one of the invisible runes on his bicep threw them through his window. These assassins had clearly not done their research, if they had they would know that he had also been offered the position of the elder representing runic magic. He had denied the position as he already had enough duties but still. If they had known that they would have come up with suitable counters for his magic. Suddenly he was thrown through one of his walls, and crashed through his banisters falling onto his stairs. He grunted as a sharp pain shot through his body and promised to curse himself later for making the foolish mistake of assuming that a vampire would be taken out so easily. He pressed the rune on his neck again and as his broken ribs healed the vampire appeared in front of him, she shoved him but this time he was ready and as he went flying flipped himself in the air so that rather than his back hitting his wall his legs did. He leapt back towards her and kicked, he heard her neck snap as she slammed into the wall but she got up anyway, her bones already resetting. Before she could fully recover he jumped down the stairs to give himself more room to maneuver, as he did so the werewolf followed. Before the beast could attack he threw three white spectral knives that all exploded with a flash of blinding light, the beast howled and Barrett moved quickly delivering three punches and a magically enhanced kick to the beasts abdomen, it rolled along the floor but started to stand. Barrett barely managed to duck under the vampires first swing, she was holding a knife now and the blade let out a light hum as it sliced at the air. It was probably enchanted. He jumped backwards and pressed two runes on his elbows as he did, flinging his arms wide both the vampire and the werewolf were hit with a large wave of white energy that sent them flying. The vampire slammed into the stairs and the werewolf flew through his kitchen and broke through the wall, they lay outside but Barrett knew they would be back fairly soon. He leapt towards the vampire and pressed a finger to her neck, when he did black ink flooded through her skin and formed a rune. For a regular Witch, even those well versed in runic magic, this technique was impossible due to the vast amount of mana it required but for an elder such as himself it was easy. This would suppress her natural abilities, she would be slower and her healing would slow down as well which meant now he could break her bones and she wouldn’t get back up. It wouldn’t kill her but then he never intended to kill any of them. She swung and he stepped out of the way, she swung again evidently confused as to why she wasn’t moving at superhuman speeds anymore. Barrett couldn’t help the smile that cut across his face as he kicked the side of her knee, it broke with a loud snap and the bone broke skin. Thankfully there was no blood given that she had none in her body. She screamed as she fell and he punched her in the jaw, it shattered beneath his fist and the vampire fell.  “I’LL KILL YOU!” Barrett weaved around the werewolves claws and each time gave a blow of his own, the only difference being that his were actually making contact. The werewolf went for a grab and he ducked under their arms, sweeping his leg. They fell and he kicked them, they slid along the floor and Barrett followed, before they could recover he kicked them in the face, the back of their head hit the wall with a loud crack, knowing that this wasn’t enough to take them down he punched them a few more times before finally placing his finger on their chest. He couldn’t see it but he knew the rune was there, this time as the werewolf went to stand blue lightning shot through their body, they howled and fell to the floor unconscious. That was all five of them, he had to admit they weren’t very good assassins though he had to admit he hadn’t done such a great job himself. A hundred years ago they would have been dispatched within moments but now he was old and out of practice this had taken too long and now he would have to make adjustments to his schedule. Adjustments he could not really afford to make. He couldn’t help but sigh as he made his way back upstairs to retrieve his clothes, he ran his finger on one of the runes on his forearm and a loud ringing surrounded the house. Guards would be on their way soon.

[papa-rhys]

Trial: Day 1 (Justice AU)

Note: Okay, it’s here! Part 1 of my justice au! I haven’t finished it yet, but I have a solid first few parts, so imma start uploading it now. I’ve worked myself to the bone doing research for this and thinking about where certain characters would be after the events of the game, but I’m not a lawyer and I’m only human, so if there’s any mistakes/continuity errors, I’m sorry! Anyways, I’m so excited for this and I hope people like it as much as I do! Enjoy!

Summary: After a war comes what is arguably the most difficult part: recovery. And a big part of that recovery - for both the deputies and Hope County residents alike - is justice. Jacob Seed and John Seed - exactly 1 half of the guilty party - must stand trial and face the consequences for what they’ve done. After being promoted to the position of sheriff, the Deputy (reader) must now guide their recovering friends through the difficulties that a very public trial brings about; all whilst reliving the horrors of what they faced in that small county in Montana.

Word count: 1584

Characters: Reader, John Seed, Jacob Seed, Joey Hudson, Staci Pratt, Earl Whitehorse

Warnings: None that I can think of!

| Other parts to this series |  | Find more of my stuff here! |  | Ko-fi |

You make your way through the hall of the courthouse, your shoes clicking against the polished marble floor as you walk. Today is the first day of the Seed trial, where John Seed and Jacob Seed will be put in front of a jury. That jury will be the first anyone outside of Hope County has heard of the atrocities that the Seeds committed; finally, after almost a decade of suffering and isolation, the outside world will know what the citizens of Hope County have endured.

To say you’re nervous is an understatement. Quite frankly, you’re shitting bricks. You’d only been a rookie for a grand total of 8 months before you swooped into Hope County in that goddamn helicopter. You’d only just been cleared to have a firearm at the time and never in your wildest dreams did you think that you’d be using anytime soon. But you did. And that guilt consumes you to this day – following you around like a thick, black fog, looming over your head. You’ll carry that body count with you until your dying day; some weighing heavier than others, but all of them burdening you to a great extent.

Among those who’re testifying – including yourself, of course – are Hudson and Pratt, who are waiting in the corridor outside the courtroom, dressed up in their best suits and shaking violently with nerves.

You head directly towards them, passing by the door to the courtroom and joining their huddle. “What’re you guys doin’ here? You’re not on the stand today, are you?”

“No,” Hudson replies. “We came to wait outside. We didn’t wanna be at home while everyone was here. We’re not allowed in the courtroom until we’ve testified, but we wanted to feel like we were doin’ somethin’, y’know?”

“Yeah, I get that,” you tell her. Hudson pinches the bridge of her nose and begins to cry. “Hey, it’ll be okay,” you assure her, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. “You’re both gonna do great.”

“I dunno,” Hudson whimpers. “I don’t know if I can take the stand. I don’t know if I can face John again.”

You rub her shoulder. “Yes, you can,” you tell her. “You both can,” you add, turning to look at Pratt. He’s extremely pale and looks as though he may vomit at any second. “How’re you holdin’ up, Pratt? You ain’t gonna puke on my nice, new shoes, are ya?”

Pratt gives a weak smile and quickly shakes his head. “I’m g - good, I’m good.”

“Are you gonna be here all the way through?” Hudson asks you. “I definitely can’t do it without you here.”

“I’m gonna be here for the whole thing; don’t worry. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

Hudson gives a small sigh of relief, dries her eyes, and nods. “Okay.”

You lean backwards and crane your neck to peek into the courtroom. “Listen, they’ll be starting soon. I gotta go in and find a seat. You’ll be fine, okay?” They nod grimly and you make your way into the courtroom.

You politely move through the crowds and find a seat. The jury is already in their seats and the room is bustling with people, all chattering among themselves about the case and what outcome they hope for. Once news got out about Eden’s Gate being a cult, the case had quickly turned into an international one, attracting reporters from all over the world. If only this many people had cared about Hope County before, you think. Maybe this wouldn’t have happened in the first place.

You take your seat and fiddle with the collar of your shirt. The number of bodies in the room are making it swelteringly hot and you haven’t been all that good with crowds since returning from Hope County.

As you look around the room, trying to calm your raging nerves, Earl Whitehorse slides into the seat next to you. He’s wearing a tailored suit and looks a lot more relaxed after his recent vacation to the Bahamas; although you think the next few months will undo that calm demeanour pretty quickly.

“Congratulations… sheriff.” He greets you with a warm smile. “We wouldn’t be here without you, kid. You earned that promotion, that’s for sure.”

“How’s retirement treatin’ you, Earl?” You smile.

“Not bad, not bad. I’ve been a little bored, but I’m not gettin’ shot at anymore, so I can’t complain.”

You chuckle, but your eyes scan the room, nervously; constantly looking for danger that’s never there. “Boredom is a welcomed change after the year we’ve had.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” he laughs.

The room falls silent around you and it takes a few seconds before you realise that John and Jacob have entered the room.

“Oh shit,” Earl mutters, leaning back in his seat. “And so it begins.”

You stay silent, glaring at John and Jacob as they both search for you in the crowd. The way they hunt for you makes you wonder if they can sense you – maybe even smell you, like a pair of predators sniffing out their prey. It would explain why they always seemed to know where you were back in Hope County. You think of them on all fours, snarling at the woodland creatures in the forests of the Whitetail Mountains and the image makes the corners of your mouth curl up ever so slightly.

They’re both dressed in swanky suits with silk ties and polished shoes. However, all the fresh haircuts and hot showers in the world wouldn’t be enough to scrub away the look of defeat on their faces as the guard directs them towards their seats at the front of the room. Approaching their table and pulling their chairs out from under it, John pauses and looks directly at you. He nudges Jacob and the two of them stare at you for a moment before being told to sit down. You swallow the hard lump in your throat and shift in your seat.

“You alright?” Earl asks.

“I’ll be a lot better when those fuckers are behind bars.”

“All rise,” a mans voice calls.

You and Earl rise to your feet, along with the rest of the room. The judge enters the room; a big woman with kind eyes hidden underneath a stern face.

“That’s Judge Anderson,” Earl whispers. “She’s a nice woman – real fair and always knows when people are talkin’ shit.”

“That’s handy. Lord knows John and Jacob are gonna be doin’ a lot of that,” you reply.

The judge takes her seat at the bench and everyone else does the same as two guards close the main doors.

“Okay,” the judge speaks. “We have a long few weeks ahead of us, so let’s begin with the opening statements. Prosecution, if you please.”

The prosecutor, Wayne Stevens, stands up and leaves his table, approaching the jury. “Thanks, Your Honour. Members of the jury, we all know that as Americans, we value our freedom. It is the defining feature of our country. However, there are people – people like the Seed family – who want to take that freedom away from us.”

You glance over to John and Jacob. Jacob watches Stevens carefully as he speaks, whilst John simply shakes his head, looking bemused as to why people would think he was doing anything other than helping people.

“The men you see before you today wished to control people. They wished to own them. They inflicted harm on the citizens of Hope county, and in doing so, they inflicted harm on the people of America. Over the course of the next few weeks, you will hear troubling accounts from witnesses; not only civilians who were caught up in a whirlwind of bloodshed but also officers of the law who were held and tortured for weeks for simply trying to protect us. These accounts will be difficult to hear, but we have a duty to the people of Hope County to finally hear what they have to say. Those people – those good, honest, hard-working people – deserve justice. It’s our duty, as a nation that values freedom, to give them that justice. Thank you.”

Stevens returns to his seat and the judge calls for the defence to take her turn addressing the jury.

“That’s Hazel Warner,” Earl whispers. “She’s young blood, but don’t underestimate her. She’ll go for your throat.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Hazel Warner and I’m here to represent two innocent men who have been targeted by law enforcement.”

“Oh, Christ,” you groan, rolling your eyes and sinking into your seat.

“The prosecution will spin you a story about how these men are violent. Evil. Monsters. But these men were simply lead astray by their brother – the brother, in fact, that the very same officers that you will see in this courtroom killed earlier this year. John and Jacob Seed are honest members of their community.” She gestures towards John and Jacob. “A veteran and a highly skilled lawyer. Both are ordinary people caught up in extraordinary circumstances, and law enforcement now wishes to punish them for something that they had no say in. That is why, at the end of this trial, we will ask you to deliver the only verdict that makes sense; a not guilty verdict. Thank you.”

“What a load of shit,” Earl scoffs quietly.

“You think the jury will buy any of it?” You ask.

He turns his head to look at you and shrugs. “Well, I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

[yesyunniechan]

Detective Conan File 1003 [Japanese to English Translation]

Challenging the monster of the ancient capital...

A: It was a blind spot...

A: We defended the rear entrance thinkin' that the front had pedestrian traffic... 

S: That was probably part of the criminal's plan too...

S: Causing such a fuss with the tengus they recruited online...

While the police kept busy with that, they called Ihaya-san out here and killed him... Looks like that people that screamed about the tengus appearing were also recruited online...

H: Why'd Ihaya-san come outside though? He was told to stay put inside the room, wasn't he?

A: Restroom...

M: Me, Ihaya and Agata went to the restroom... but Ihaya said that he's worried about Keiko-chan being left alone in there and turned back...

A: Looks like he looked at his email before he returned...

[The second serial murder ocurred!! A crime happened at the daytime in Kyoto, so our detectives...?!]

A: So? Ihaya-san returned right away?

K: No... Nobody came back for quite some time...

K: I-I was afraid of being alone in the room...

K: And left for the restroom myself... Maybe he returned after I'd left...

A: How long were you in the restroom?

M: I left immediately, but got lost on the way back...

A: I-I got an upset stomach, so I took my time...

Se: Basically, all three of you could have called for Ihaya-san via email and killed him?

[N-no...]

A: But those bloody footprints... 

A: Looks like they were drawn with paint a good while ago...

A: 10 minutes before the corpse was found... Are you sure that those footprints weren't here at the time you were here?

R: Y-yes...

M: Could it be that all of us.... were enchanted by a Kitsune-san?

S: Hm? What the... those traces...

S: Ahlele~!! There are weird tracings around this inuyarai...

R: Eh?

S: O-on here?

S: Damn it... my usual habit...

H: Really! It surrounds it... What's that about?

R: But 'ahlele'...

So: Imitating that brat in glasses at a time like this? How shameless...

S: N-never mind that - a cipher?

S: Maybe it's in his pocket again...

A: Yes...

A: And looks like just like Nishiki-san's...

A: There is also an aralia leaf inside...

A: With this third cipher...

H: Leavin' one of these nonsensical cipher again...

H: And how exactly are those four squares at the beginning supposed to represent that Dekuri guy?"

Se: If you put those four squares in a bigger square, it looks like Dekuri's 出, don't you think?

H: Really...

S: Hattori, your phone's ringing.

K: HEIJI!! WHAT'RE YA DOIN'?!

H: D-din't I tell ya? I got a huge cold, so I had to skip school...

K: Cut yer crap!!

K: Yer bein' shown on TV!

An: We're reporting from the crime scene where the famous actor Ihaya Shinya was killed!!

H: W-well, I was searchin' for a charm to cure my cold and accidentally wandered to Kyoto...

K: Haah?!

S: That's no excuse...

H: A-anyway, I have to solve weird serial killin' and a cipher now... 

H: Don't tell dad or ma...

M: Those look like some names of Kyoto streets...

H: Eh?

M: This one is Kamigyouku's Hisashicho's Hisashi （庇）...

M: And this one on the left is Shimogyouku's Tokusayamacho's To (木）...

M: And again to the left looks like Ukyoku's Adashino's Adashi (化）...

H: This one's read as 'Adashi'?!

M: Yes!

Se: Wait a sec! You have wards with names like 'Up', 'Down', "Right'...

M: Yes! Kyoto has Kamigyoku, Nakagyoku, Shimogyoku, Sakyoku and Ukuoku... 

M: Which are 'Up', 'Middle', 'Down' and 'Left and Right'! 

Se: Then that means...

H: Could it be...

S: No doubt!!

K: ...I think I heard Momiji's voice there...

M: Ah, Happa-chan! How are ya?

M: Please leave Heiji-kun to me and continue yer zealous studyin', Happa-chan!

K: Li...

K: Like hell I could leave it to ya, idiot!! 

M: Well then, bye-bye!

G: Eh? Leave, ya said... Kazuha, ya want to finish cleanin' the classroom by yerself?

K: Ah. No-no...

A: Well then, we'll have to discuss it while en route...

A: But I hope this time you'll truly tell me everythin'?

A: About the one who created those three ciphers...

A: A man called 'Dekuri'...

[Dekuri Michio?]

Ay: This person was yer classmate at the Gion University of Arts?

K: Y-yes...

A: He was part of the art course, and I was part of the music course... 

M: And I was in the film course...

K: Me and Ihaya-kun were part of the acting course...

M: And Nishiki was in the literature one...

Se: If you all studied under different departments, how come you knew each other?

A: All of us were members of the SFX research club...

A: Well, Dekuri was in the manga club too...

M: But the movies we'd filmed was shown at the university's festival every year...

M: I was really good at SFX back then...

K: Me and Ihaya-kun knew plenty about SFX makeup...

A: And I wrote an eerie score for the movie they'd created...

A: The script had been written by Nishiki, and the designs and costumes, like that of the monster, were done by Dekuri, right?

M: He was busy with the manga, so we all helped him with it...

K: Well, the only one who actually helped was Agata-kun...

S: But the credits for the graduation project that ended up inspiring 'Crimson Shura-Tengu'...

S: It doesn't mention 'Dekuri', right?

S: Why's that?

H: What? Why're ya silent?

A: Actually, Nishiki was worried about his script...

M: And found the manga Dekuri drew as a doujinshi...

K: A really wonderful and fantastic story...

Se: And that was 'Crimson Shura-Tengu'?

K: Yes... Dekuri-kun refused, saying that he'd publish it once he'll become a professional mangaka, and to please not use it... But we had no time before the deadline...

A: So we filmed his story, thinking that we'd be able to convince him once he sees the finished project...

M: And if we had put his name in the credits, it would've become his project...

K: But when he watched the film we'd made for that art project in the club room...

D: This is not my work! Traitors! Don't put my name on this!!

K: ...he got angry and left the club room... That's why only 5 of us got the spotlight...

H: Bet he hated yer guts!!

M: Ah, but... The day 'Crimson Shura-Tengu' was announced... that night... Dekuri called me!!

D: I gave up being a mangaka and work in a small designer office...

D: So if you're going to remake that story, can you please put my name somewhere in the corner?

K: Dekuri-kun... always dreamed to see the screen version of his manga...

Ay: So? What about putting his name in the credits?

M: We were going to, but because of a minor blunder...

A: He fell into despair after not seeing his name at the first screening and commited suicide...

M: We'd actually wanted to cancel the premier... but the sponsors wouldn't let us...

[Why?]

[Why are Heiji-kun and the others allowed in, yet we're not?]

M: And that's when Happa-chan finally left Heiji-kun to me!!

I: Looks like Ayanokoji-keibu trusts him...

So: No, really, who's that?

R: Er...

R: Where should I go to be able to meet Okita-kun?

M: He's probably trainin' at the dojo right now... If ya've got somethin' to tell him, I can deliver a message...

R: Ah... no... I'd wanted to meet and talk....

[Isn't that Ran-chan?!]

R: Eh?

O: Whatcha doin' here? A place like this...

M: And what about ya?

O: I heard that lotsa tengus had appeared, so I brought some kendo club members to exterminate 'em!

M: Great job...

So: He's really just like Shinichi-kun!!

M: This girl said she wanted to meet ya...

O: What! Ya really came to Kyoto to see me!!

R: Here... Let's go over here for a sec... 

O: Heh?

[Kurachi Keiko?]

Yuk: Ah, Kyoko-chan! We co-starred in that dorama, yes!

Yuk: But the lead role was mine~

S: Kyoko-chan? Not 'Keiko'?

Yuk: Her real name is Kyoko! Some stuff happened back when she was a university student, so she put 日 on top of Kyoto's 京 and created her pseudonym, '景子’!

S: Heeh...

Yuk: Speaking of names... Nishiki-san and Mayama-san... also changed their names during that graduation art project...

Yuk: Nishiki-san's 'Taroubou' had some origin... 

S: Right, the first great tengu of Japan was called 'Taroubou'...

Yuk: Oh yeah, Kyoko-san had someone she loved during her university days... She never ended up marrying because she still has feelings for that person...

Yus: Was that person's name 'Dekuri Michio-kun' by chance?

Yuk: No way! How do you know?

S: Hm? An email from Sonoko...

S: Eh?

[O-Okita?!]

[From: Suzuki Sonoko]

[Theme: Your wifey got caught cheating <3]

[Why did Ran meet with Okita?!]

S: ...and what's with that look between these two?!

H: Kudo... whatcha lookin' at?

S: Eh?!

H: Let's go!

S: Go... where?

H: Gion Hotel!

Se: Nishiki-san tried to reserve a smoking room in this hotel, but he was initially rebuffed because all of its rooms were occupied... yet during that call, someone cancelled, and he managed to snap one up...

Se: Isn't that strange?

S: Y-yeah...

S: Right...

[Yes...]

[As you said...]

H: It was cancelled in the middle of Nishiki-sama's call... And he managed to reserve it for two nights, starting yesterday...

Ay: I see...

Ay: By the way, Agata-san's room was a smokin' one too...

H: Did ya manage to reserve one right away?

A: Yeah... Another one was cancelled out right after Nishiki...

A: We gathered at Nishiki's apartment and booked rooms together... Right?

K: Yes...

Ay: Is that so?

H: Ah, yes...

H: Right after Nishiki-sama booked  that room, there was another cancellation, so Agata-sama booked it.... even though it was a group of visitors...

Se: Speaking of Agata-san's room, a huge tengu appeared in there...

Se: Other than that, was there anything strange about that room?

Ay: Yes... At the scorched ceiling there was somethin' glue-like... but I don't think it was quite enough to allow for anythin' really big to be held up...

Ay: Imprints on the carpet from when Agata-san fell down with his chair...

Ay: And the cigarettes that fell off the ashtray Agata-san threw at the tengu...

Ay: Had left burn marks on the carpet, about 3 cm... 

Ay: And there was an extra pillow in the middle of the bed...

A: T-that's kind of a habit... My legs get cramped if I don't place a pillow under my knees...

S: Hm? What? Something was off just now...

S: Glue stuck on the ceiling...

S: Okita...

S: Traces of a fallen chair...

S: Okita...

S: Cigarette burn marks...

S: Ran...

S: The pillow in the middle of the bed...

S: Okita...

S: Argh, damn it! I can't get the picture of those two out of my head, let alone concentrate on the deduction...

S: It's just too much for me to handle right now...

S: Eh?

S: 'Too much'?

S: Damn... it's started!! And earlier than yesterday!!

H: O-oi, Kudo!

H: Ya OK?

S: Y-yeah.. I've figured out who the criminal is...

Se: Eh?

S: B-but I s-still lack the evidence necessary... to catch them...

S: C-can I please request the assistance of the Kyoto prefectural police?

A: Yes... If there's anythin' we can do, please let me know...

S: T-that's...

S: It probably looks a little silly, but...

[Big trouble! Shinichi means...?! Next issue - mustread!!]

[prettieparker86]

All For You

Part 2 Here & Part 3 Here & Part 4 & Part 5 Here

Pairing: William “Cap” Hatfield x Reader

Warning: Mentions of death and murder

Gifs: Not mine. The beautiful Cap shooting gif is by @cirunia (Still can’t figure out to tag people proper apparently) if it’s yours let me know and I’ll gladly give credit.

A/N: Sorry this took so long, I really tried to make it good since it’s my first Cap Hatfield story. The vote settled it, but I will be posting the Lyla version on another site and I’ll post the link here for anyone interested. I’m planning four parts for this. They all center around a single conversation with flashbacks to add depth and context. Also in doing research, Johnse also sometimes went by Jonce too. So I used both. The timeline follows the show. Let me know if you like it or if it’s shit. Honesty is brutal, but truthful.

XXXXX

The room is deathly silent. The air so thick you could cut it with a knife. The crackling of the fire the only sound to be heard as your heart pounds so hard you can hear it pumping in your ears.

Your eyes are hinged upon your uncle Anse as his bore into you with such stern fever you feel your body heating up under the burn of his glare. You know your uncle is loyal to his kin, but being on the wrong side of his temper has got you spooked.

His pipe is clenched between his teeth before he tugs it out once more. The gravel of his voice filling the room with dread. “Now I’m only gonna ask you one more time, who gotcha in ‘ta this predicament?”

You never wanted to bring such trouble upon your family. You already felt burden enough on your uncle and aunt, taking you and your brother in after your Pap been murdered. But this… This was too much to ask of anyone.

Gone and shamed yourself and your family in the worst way a lady can. That’s why you’d hid it as long as you could. With McCoy’s out for vengeance, bounty hunters and the law after your family, timing never seemed right to add another pillar onto the fire. That’s why it took your aunt putting the pieces together and confronting you before the awful truth came to light.

You swallowed hard against the choking lump in your throat. Your breath quivering with fear as it slips past your lips.

Your eyes shot to your aunt Levicy, a pleading in your gaze you couldn’t suspend, but her gaze was as steady as Anse, with no sympathy to be found.

Your aunt Levicy was a kind woman. Always been really good to you, raising you like her own after your mama died, but she was a strong woman too and you’d just brought a world a hurt on her home.

Your lips felt parched as you ran your tongue across them. Praying you could make your tongue do something more when you tried to speak.

You open your mouth to deliver your death sentence and own up to what you done, but before you can speak someone beats you to the punch.

“I did,” An all to distinctive gritty drawl answers behind you. A voice you’d know anywhere.

Spinning around, your skirt twirling as you go, your eyes land on Will, Cap as everyone else likes to call him. You’re not sure when he came in the door or how long he’s been standing there, but he’d clearly heard enough.

You wanna ask him what the hell he’s doing, but he never meets your eyes, holding steady on his Pa’s.

“Ya did what?” Anse sternly questions, both shock and rage waging war for dominance on his face as his attention turns to Will.

“Now hows it I raised two sons that can be so god damn dumb! Didn’ have ‘nough trouble already with yer brother, had to go make yer own mess!” You hear your uncle Anse hollering, his voice bellowing through the homestead, feet stomping against the floorboards as you spin back around to see him storming over toward Will.

“Now I told ya to stay away offa her when she came into this house!” Anse hollers, bringing up a conversation between father and son you weren’t privy to, but only made matters worse for Will.

You barely have time to follow his stride before he’s on Will, fist swinging. Blinded by his rage, Will went down without a fight. Didn’t even try to defend himself, taking it like he had it coming, accepting his Pa’s punishment.

You can’t watch him take this punishment for you. You can’t bare it. So, you charge into the mess. Trying to reach Will.

“Please uncle Anse, Please!” You desperately beg.

Likely get yourself pummeled too if Johnse hadn’t stepped in, trying to pull his Pa back. You hadn’t even realized Jonce was there either until he intervened.

You reach for Will as you crouch against the floor, trying to get between the two men and cover yourself over him, but Will still manages to hold you back at arm’s length, trying to protect you too.

Johnse manages to keep some of the blows back, before Levicy steps in. Always a fierce mama, she gets Anse to backdown from his rage.

Everyone’s huffing, tensions high as the fight breaks apart. You and Johnse help Will back to his feet, before he shakes off the hold you and Johnse got on him. Your heart breaking with the sight of his bleeding lip and busted cheek.

“Y’all go outside now. Let me ‘in yer Pa have a word.” Levicy speaks, no question in her tone.

You all move to the porch out front, the door barely shuts before your feet all come to a slow and steady stop. Pulling your coat around you against the frigid air, you feel Johnse’s eyes on you first, sharp against the fading sunlight dipping down on the mountain peaks.

You don’t know what he’s thinkin and you’re afraid to find out. His gaze is penetrating as it sweeps between you and Will.

You meet his gaze, but only briefly before turning your eyes to Will and the look pulsing through Will as he stares down his brother is enough to chill the blood in the any man’s veins.

Without a word, Johnse turns and trots down the porch steps and away from the house. You know your heart should feel heavy that he’s running scared, but you’ve never been so relieved to see Johnse’s go.

As soon as Johnse was outta ear shot, you turn to Will.

“Why ‘re you doin this?” You asked plainly, keeping your voice purposefully low as you search his face for answers in the dimming light.

Will looks down at you suddenly, finally meeting your eyes, and all you see is stubborn and steel staring back at you.

“S’ones gotta.” He answers curtly, before moving swiftly across the porch, his boots heavy against the old boards.

Five Months Ealier

Election Day 1882

Blackberry Creek was bustling with life. It was election day and people from all around these parts had come out for the festivities. It was summer time in the south; the days were long and warm, and the air was thick and sticky.

Rhythmic stomping feet and the twangy tune of the fiddle filled the forest with life. Couples danced around the makeshift floor without a care in the world. Sporadic gun fire broke through the fiddle’s sweet melody as men drank and carried on over a lively shooting contest at the edge of the festivities. While bootleggers sold their whiskey from the barrel off rickety carts, Johnse manning his own brew from his still up in the hills.

The clearing bustled with life as merchants and peddlers sold their goods from booths and stands. People laughed and mingled without a care in the world, and for a short while you’d never know two feuding families were enjoying themselves side by side.

You love election day, for you it’s a chance to get away from doing chores and have a little fun for a change.

The sun feels hot on your shoulders and head, the air thick and dewy on your skin. Your hair soaks up the sun. With curves in all the right places, you’ve noticed the way men’s eyes like to linger, but in a family of roughneck men where girls are far more of a rarity, a man would have to damn near pass through an army just to get near you. And with the circumstances surrounding your birth, no suitable man has really tried.

You watch from the sidelines as your brother Cotton Top carries on with the younger Hatfield children.

He may be your older brother by fourteen months, but it’s your job to watch over him. He requires extra attention and since your Ma passed, that’s always fallen on you and your Pa. Not that you mind it, Cotton Top is the sweetest boy you know. You can’t imagine your life without him.

“Pretty ribbon you got in yer hair.” A voice spoke up suddenly from beside her.

You turn to find none other than Calvin McCoy standing there, Randal McCoy’s son, having crept up unannounced. You offer him a subtle nod and turn back to watch your brother and the younger Hatfield children scurry amongst the grass and dirt.

“Thanks, my Pa got it for me.” You answer plainly, being polite.

“I’m Calvin McCoy,” He says, introducing himself while trying to keep your attention.

“I know who you are.” You answer back, returning your gaze to him only briefly.

“Ah, I see.” He drawls out. “Take it ya hate McCoy’s like the resta yer kin.” He questions rhetorically, a crooked grin creepy up on the corner of his lips.

You catch the glint in his blue eyes as you turn back to him.

“I try not to hate ‘nyone.” You answer honestly, fighting back the grin that’s working its way on her face. For a Mccoy he wasn’t bad looking, with dark brown hair and pale blue eyes.

“You got a pretty smile too.” His says, grin spreading wide as his eyes light up under your attention.

Your face drops as you realize he’s flirting with you. Shaking you head, you dismiss the notion as your cheeks start to burn. Was it his compliment or the sun? New to this game for two, you don’t have much experience with boys outside your kin.

“What’s goin’ on over here?” A rough voice picks up suddenly behind you.

Turning toward your other shoulder, you find Will coming at you. His gaze reaching over your head, driving nails into the young man beside you.

You can tell your cousin isn’t pleased to see you conversing with a McCoy. As Devil Anse son and Jim Vance nephew, hating McCoys has been instilled in him since he was just a boy. While your Pap had always been more reasonable about these matters and tried to raise you and your brother up the same.

Placing your hand on his arm, you try to ease the rapidly mounting tension.

“We was just talkin’.” You explains as if it were that simple.

“Ya heard the lady, we was just talkin.” Calvin throws back, with a boldness on his breath and a challenge in his eyes you know damn well is a recipe for disaster.

“Shut up McCoy, think it’s best you go on back to yer own kin.” Will snaps out, still never looking your way as he holds his ground in a standoff against Calvin McCoy.

“An’ if I don’?” Calvin throws back as he squares his shoulders, refusing to back down to Will or any Hatfield.

You can see the fuse has been lit in Will’s eye. As your favorite cousin, you’ve been watching him your whole life. You know what makes Will tick and you know if this turns anymore sour it’s going to be more than just words that gets thrown around. You don’t want that, certainty because of you.

Removing the remaining distance between yourself and Will, your hands find his chest as you plead with Will to be sensible, be the bigger man. Hoping his soft spot for you will win him over. “He’s not worth it, Will. Please.”

Finally, Will looks down at you, your touch breaking through the stubborn steel of his anger. “Please, let’s just go.” You try to reason with him, your eyes calling for him.

Before he can make up this mind, another voice steps in overshadowing the rest. “Calvin! What ‘re doin’ with Hatfields? Git over here.”

You look over your shoulder to see Calvin’s cheeks turning red with a twinge of embarrassment, he’d been caught red handed. Despite his resistance to backing down, the young man could see he no longer had a choice in the matter as he tilted his hat to you.

“Real nice talkin’ to ya,” He said before hightailing it back over to his brother, a McCoy you recognized as Tolbert. The curly red hair and scowl on his face giving him away every time.

“N’ stay the hell away from her!” You tense against the grit in Will’s voice as he leaves Calvin with a parting message.

As Calvin disappears, you feel Will take ahold of your elbow and start leading you across the grass.

“I’m s’pose to be watchin the kids.” You say.

“Robert E. can.” Will spits curtly back.

You know he wants to have a word with you as you move away from Calvin, realizing you aren’t the only one getting a lecture as you hear Tolbert’s crass words in the distance. “What ‘re you doin’ with that Hatfield bastard?”

You cringe a little with a name you’ve heard all too many times, but never quite get used to.

Glancing up at Will, you’re only relieved he didn’t hear it or this fire would have sparked back to life ten times the blaze it was moments ago.

As protective as Will is of you, no amount of sweet talking would have deterred him before he knocked some sense into Tolbert.

Will’s grip on your elbow is firm as he leads you away from the McCoy’s, out toward to the edge of the tents and booths where less people linger and there’s more room to talk.

Digging your heels into the soft earth below, you force him to stop when you feel you’ve gone far enough and tug your arm free.

“Will, we was just talkin.” You tell him. Trying to make him understand, make him see he’s making something out of nothing.

Will turns back to you, same fire still burning in his blue eye as his gaze shot out over to where the McCoy’s were then back to you.

“Yeah well, I don’ like the way he was lookin at you.” He grinds out through a tight jaw, letting out a deep huff before leaving the grounds and moving out toward the brush and trees. His feet heavy with spite.

Clutching your long skirt, you take off after him, your feet moving quick to keep up with his pace and long stride.

You hate seeing Will mad. Hate feeling like you stirred up a hornet’s nest for reasons you’re not sure you fully understand. If you didn’t know better, you’d think Will was jealous, because ever since he started looking at you differently, you’re not always sure what’s going on in his head.

“And how was he lookin at me?” You question him.

You know Will’s protective, but you’d never seen him look like that before. Then again he’d never really seen you talking to another boy who wasn’t kin before.

You’re not a fool, you’ve noticed the way Will looks at you sometimes. With that intense gaze of his that can make you feel like you were sitting over a fire pit. Your kin noticed it too, you catch them teasing him about it from time to time, but Will’s never made a move beyond that, so you aren’t sure what to make of any of it.

“Like you were a damn meal.” He grumbles out before turning to spit as if the words left a vile taste in his mouth, stomping into a set of trees and moving deeper into the forest surrounding you.

His shoulders are tight as you work to keep pace with him. His tone sharp and his breathe heavy as he works through his anger.

“Well it’s not like I’m spoken for, now is it?” You point out and instantly regret your choice of words as Will abruptly stops and turns back quick onto you.

“You wanna end up with a McCoy now?” He practically spits out, giving you a look as if you’d grow two heads.

“Course not,” You’re quick to dismiss.

Letting out a heavy breath as you finally stop. You hate seeing him like this, all wound up. You never would have talked to that boy if you knew it would bother him this much.

Your eyes sweep around you as you realize you followed him farther into the woods than you planned and you know both your Pa’s wouldn’t approve of you two off alone by yourselves, but you couldn’t leave him like this.

Turning back to Will you aim to ease the tension coursing through him as you try to explain it without making the whole thing worse.

“Alls I’m sayin is I ain’t spoken for. Boys are s‘pose to wanna talk to me, Will. How else am I s’pose to snag a husband? It’s hard ‘nough as it is.” You explain it as rationally as you can.

Girls your age were supposed to land a husband. Hell, some were already engaged, but things were different for you.

You were more than pretty enough, people told you so, but you and your brother were born on the wrong side of the bed. Didn’t matter your Pa was gonna marry your mama after you came along, only to have her die bringing you into this world. Didn’t matter you were raised by your Pa and carried his name.

You came from outside the sacred confines of marriage, and no amount of pretty was gonna make you a suitable enough for most boys to court.

Hard as that truth is, it didn’t bother you nearly as much as you know it should, because truth be told, there was only one boy you wanted to court you. One boy you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. He just hadn’t made a move.

“He’s not good ‘nough for you…” Will says firmly with a quick shake of his head for emphasis.

Pulling his hat from his head with a quick hand, letting the sun hit his face through the trees as he lets out a long heavy breath before his piercing eyes fall back onto you.

“Hell, I don’t know if any man is.”

Coming from anyone else that line would have been rich. Johnse would have delivered it with a shit eating grin on his face and a voice so smooth girls county wide would be willing to let him get up under their skirts.

But when Will says it his voice is raw with honesty as he looks at you with such sincerity you suddenly find it hard to breathe.

You don’t fancy yourself impulsive, but like all Hatfield’s, you got passion in your veins and fire in your belly.

And standing before Will as his blonde hair falls all messy around his handsome face, the intensity in his sterling blue eye as it pierces you from just feet away, has you doing the most bold thing you’ve ever done.

Without a word, you step to him, leaning up, you capture his lips. There’s no denying you surprised him. You can feel him tense beneath your lips, but seconds later, he’s giving in.

Kissing you back, slowly, cautiously as if he’s afraid if he’s not careful he might overwhelm you. Your arms tangle around his neck as your feel Will’s arms wined around your waist.

A spark of electricity shoots through your body with his kiss and you know he feels it to as he pulls you closer to him, kissing you harder. All thoughts of decency or fear of being caught, never enter your mind. All you know in that moment, all you can sense is Will and how alive you feel. More alive than you’ve ever felt before. Like a part of you you didn’t know coming to life.

You feel a strange intoxicating heat wash over you as your skin flushes. A breathy sound you’ve never heard yourself make slips past your lips as Will’s tongue strokes your bottom lip. The sound of it makes Will clutches you tighter, pulling you flush against him. His other hand tangling into your hair to hold you close as a heavy breath burst from him.

You feel a change in him, a change in the hunger of his kiss and the need of his touch, but just as quickly as it’s there, it’s gone, as Will’s hands find the sides of your waist to hold you steady as pulls away to break the kiss.

Will’s breath sounds heavy and uneven as his forehead rests against yours. His hands release you, but he won’t meet your eyes as he slowly creates more distance, his face still hung low.

When he finally looks back up at you there’s a dark heated wanting in his gaze. It makes your belly flutter and your skin feel flush, but then he looks away as he gently pulls your hands free from around his neck.

“I think we betta head back.” Will says, his breath deep and husky in a way you’ve never heard before as he steps around you, snatching up his hat from the ground before heading back toward the event.

You turn to follow him and find him waiting, but he doesn’t look at you. Your heart would ache if you didn’t feel his fingers dance faintly across your wrist as you walk side by side.

It’s then that you realize why Will’s keeping his distance, because things were getting heated back there. If either of your Pa’s had seen you, surely they would have tanned your hides.

And unlike Johnse and the mess he got Roseanna into, you know Will would never do anything that could put you in a predicament, that would dishonor you. No matter how badly he may want to.

Moving back toward the festivities you hear commotion all around. Hollering voices, feet stomping and a deep sense of dread fills your belly.

You’ll realize all too soon what’s happened to your Pa while you were away and that leaving the woods set wheels into motion you’ll never be able to undo.

[antaniashanae]

How This Fan’s Blinged Out T-Shirt Turned Into An Opportunity To Stone MISSY ELLIOTT’S Wardrobe

On August 26, 2019, the iconic, legendary MISSY ELLIOTT would receive the Michael Jackson Video Vanguard Award! The “Get Ur Freak On” and “Hot Boyz” artist, known for her eclectic style and vibrant hits has [finally] been given her flowers for such recognition.

From her groundbreaking visuals to the bass lines in her songs-Missy can’t be touched! It’s been an amazing year for Missy because she was also inducted in the Songwriter’s Hall of Fame and the first woman rapper to receive this honor. Say it with me, “LEGEND!” 🗣Congrats, Missy!

Missy’s style is truly one of a kind. The style innovator has been breaking fashion barriers for years. Remember the infamous “bubble suit” from “The Rain” video? Who has topped that? 🗣No one! The fashion icon has a style that can’t be duplicated but admired. Missy’s been in the game for over 20 years and her creativity is still respected in the industry. Everything she’s touched has been classic!

Missy recently released an EP in 14 years titled #ICONOLOGY. Very fitting, right? Missy is an icon. The title alone lets us know that Missy isn’t going anywhere. The visual for the single “Throw It Back” is straight-up art. It’s so raw! It’s also proof that you can put Missy in any genre, any generation of artists, and she will still deliver!

🎶What you doin’ now, I did for a while! -Missy Elliott, #ThrowItBack

Missy has swagger like no other. A lot of her pieces are custom made, including the sparkly, blinged-out pieces. Question is... WHO blings out Missy’s performance attire?

Meet Chris: The man behind the jewels! 💎

I met Chris via Twitter around 2013-2014, sharing jokes about trending reality and award shows. One day he posted a remake of Missy Elliott’s “She’s a Bitch” video. He actually recreated the video in his home during Halloween. Not only was it impressive, but you could definitely tell Missy Elliott was someone he had great admiration for. Looking at the details of the re-creation of the video, he definitely put in a lot of time and effort into it. Let’s just say, his efforts and admiration didn’t go unnoticed-he’s a “Supafriend” and personal stoner for Missy Elliott.

—Here’s Chris’ remake of “She’s A Bitch” video

I was able to catch up with Chris about his craft. Check out our interview here:

COCOA: Who is Chris?

Chris: Chris is just an ab normal guy hustling to find normalcy.

COCOA: For years we’ve seen your admiration for Missy Elliott on social media. You did a remake of “She’s a Bitch” in your home. What triggered you to do that?

Chris: The “She’s A Bitch” video came about because I had a random idea to re-create it and wanted to do something “different” for Halloween. I started planning and purchasing in early September. I didn’t mention it to anyone, because I was unsure if I was really going to be able to pull it off. I did a lot of research online. I dug up a behind-the-scenes video and studied frame by frame.

COCOA: Was the video remake the beginning of your collaboration with Missy?

Chris: The video wasn’t the beginning of my collaboration with Missy, just my way of paying homage.

COCOA: What's the official title of your craft?

Chris: (laughs) I am still trying to find the best way to define what I do. Missy calls me her “stoner.”I’ve been told by others that I am a “transformative artist...” right now, I don’t know if I want to truly have a definition, because I feel like that would be boxed in.

COCOA: how did you learn this craft?

Chris: I started down the road of stoning in the summer of 2017. Missy was performing at the FYF Festival and a group of us “SupaFriends” coordinated a trip to go out and see her shut it down! It was actually my first time seeing Missy perform live. I believe it was her first festival performance in over a decade. One of Missy’s biggest supporters (Ivan) worked with an artist (Nez Nash) to create imagery for the shirts. Since the T-shirts all had the same image, I had to find a way to differentiate myself. I don’t really know what made me want to stone that shirt out, but I knew I wanted it. I’m the type of person that doesn’t like to pay people to do a job/task I know I am able to do myself. I started looking up DIY on YouTube to get an idea of how it’s done. I had no idea where to purchase, what size to get, what tools to use etc., none of that! I just knew I wanted to see what I imagined come to life. With the help of some regular old tweezers and several toothpicks, I made it happen. I even added lights! (Laughs)

COCOA: what are some challenges you face when bejeweling?

Chris: Challenges…? Every project has its own challenge-from initial design, to size, to what type of materials it is made from.

COCOA: Which piece was your favorite? Why?

Chris: It’s hard to truly have a favorite piece, because each of them have a special meaning. I remember every stone I’ve placed on every project, though.

COCOA: While working with Missy, tell me about an experience where you had to be creative at the last minute?

Chris: Everything requires a bit of creativity. I’m a huge proponent of being extremely detailed and I love taking my time to make sure things are perfect, but sometimes time isn’t on my side. I recall a time when Missy and I went back-and-forth on what color stones she wanted me to use. One of the colors selected was very specific, and apparently extremely limited in the U.S. At the time, I got all my materials from one vendor in LA, but this vendor didn’t have the quantity I needed. I ended up making calls to five different vendors to get the quantity I needed. Working for Missy requires a lot of creativity and ingenuity because her visions are not run of the mill. As a HUGE fan, and a newbie in this field, I never want to be in a position where I’m not able to deliver. So, I do what I have to do to get the job done!

COCOA: Which pieces have you done for Missy? For which appearances?

Chris: I have done A LOT of pieces for Missy. From everyday items to performance pieces. I’ve worked on Missy’s Essence Festival performance pieces for 2018 and 2019. I did a piece for Pharrell Williams ‘Yellow Ball Fundraiser Gala’ in 2018. The outfit she wore on the American Music Awards when she performed “Level Up” Remix with Ciara. In 2018, I worked on her outfit for Pharrell Williams ‘Something In The Water” festival. I did work on her most recent music videos- #ThrowItBack (and maybe the biggest of all...) I did two outfits for her legendary performance at the 2019 MTV VMA’s where she finally received the Michael Jackson Video Vanguard Award.

COCOA: Which piece has taken the longest to complete? How many jewels were used?

Chris: I think the Dapper Dan x Gucci leather bomber Jacket I did for the ‘Yellow Ball’ took the longest; at around four days. That jacket took around 14,000 Swarovski crystals. I really wanted to impress with that one. It was the first time I had the opportunity to work with the legendary fashion guru; June Ambrose. The most stones ever used on one project was for the MTV VMAs. I used over 30,000 Swarovski crystals.

COCOA: WOW! This is so incredible, Chris! This has to be pretty amazing for you to do something you enjoy for someone you love and respect! I have to know and I know a lot are wondering if you do services for “regular Joes?” (LOL) The pieces you’ve done are amazing!

Chris: I’m here to serve the public! (LOL)

COCOA: Well, tell the world your social media handles! Let us know how we can be serviced!

Chris: My twitter and Instagram is under @tastefullynasty! Be on the lookout for my stoner page coming soon!

——-

Check out the pics below of some of the amazing work Chris has done for Missy!

[the-coolest-mallard]

Homework Woes

Yes, you guessed it. Louie and his experience with homework.

Words required for Lena: 2006 exactly

There were days like today where Louie desperately wished he could just drop out of school and become a gangster. Or maybe he’d ditch school and join a circus. Or somehow out of the blue he’d make it big in a rock band and never have to study for any test or do any homework ever again. Oh how badly he wished he could do any of those things instead of stare down the assignment that Mr. Lyons had given them because he hated his students. Louie was sure the guy had to be hating them.

And okay, Simba Lyons was a cool dude when he wasn’t teaching. But teaching meant that he gave Louie stuff to do, and Louie didn’t like stuff. Especially not stuff about the medieval times and the days where people smelled really bad and thought kings were the shit. Maybe the kings had the shits, but Louie was fairly sure not a single one of those old farts was any good. The only dude that was interesting was one of the Henrys, and only because he went full psycho!

But no, here was Louie, stuck writing a paper on some asshole King Richard III. Well, he was doing his best. But Uncle Donald was working, and Huey was off doing who knew what, so Louie didn’t really have any good helpers to make sure his work made sense so far. As he glanced down at what he had, he couldn’t help but be dismayed by his efforts.

Rihard the third was burn the youngest sun and was considred to be a loser. No one cared.

Well, at least Louie could kind of sympathize for the dude. Like Louie, he was the youngest probably talentless guy who nobody really cared about. Though he would guess that this Richard dude could probably spell better than Louie could. His letters were all over the place. He was all over the place. He was pretty sure this Richard dude caused a big family drama, but he wasn’t sure that he had the right family drama written down. He knew about the Henry that chopped heads off, but that wasn’t the Henry that Richard’s family was against. At least he was pretty sure. Why did English history have to have so many repeated names for royalty? It was so damn confusing!

Okay focus Louie. Focus! He told himself, eyebrows furrowing as he glanced at the textbook he had, as well as extra material he’d researched on academic sites online. Well, he’d found an article or two before he’d completely lost focus and started playing games on his computer. But he was getting there. Slowly. Probably. Well he had like two sentences written in his draft. That was two more than there had been an hour ago. God help him. Louie was going to die writing this paper, he was sure of it. 

For a moment Louie found himself tempted to try to reach out to Mark. Maybe he’d text Mark about how the next guy to die by crazy medieval death would be Louie! Or he’d text Mark and tell him that he couldn’t do anymore of this paper and that he should come over. Or he should send Mark cool pictures of himself and insist Mark send some back. Anything other than actually work on this medieval paper for History class. “Okay...okay if i just add this part here. This part is important I can do that and it’ll be...yeah.”

Richard’s bro Edward became King of England after people bitched about who was sposed to be King. He becm King Edward IV on March 4th, 1461. This made our guy Richie a royal prince.

Louie dropped his pen and sighed, staring at the tragic abyss that was all the blank space of his notebook. He’d had to ban himself from his computer to write it (though it would have good spellcheck, because there were just too many ways to distract himself on there) and now he felt like his hand was going to die. He’d only written a few sentences. God, why couldn’t Louie be smart like his brother? Or at least let him be smart for these occasions where it kind of mattered? Louie dreamed of getting through this paper with minimal crying.

His head jerked up at that, and he found his fingers already twitching for his phone. Speaking of crying, Louie should text Tae and see how bad off he had it with this whole thing. He was pretty sure Tae would hate this just as much as he did. Louie debated over what to say, before he grinned and just sent: ‘couldn’t give a fuck bot dis Richard dude. Howre u doin with ur old fart paper?’ Louie then forced himself to set his phone aside again and stare at the words on his computer screen. This Richard dude dealt with a fucked up situation. That part Louie had been able to focus on. It was just hard to write about said fucked up situation without writing it terribly. 

He already knew what comments he’d get with this: decent fact finding, but could stand to write in a more academic way. This is a research paper, not a casual conversation among friends. Stuff like that. He’d probably get more shit than that, but Louie was pretty familiar with all the red marks and comments he got for his shitty work. “Ugggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhh,” Louie whined, throwing his head back and slumping in his chair. How did smart people do this? Louie struggled so hard to get through a paragraph!

Maybe he should try music. Louie hadn’t considered that option yet, but it was definitely one that could potentially get him through his paper. Music had to be it! After all, spotify had all kinds of study playlists and shit, things to help someone get through the work they were trying to do. Maybe Louie would do that. So he went ahead and switched on one of those study playlists and started reading stuff on this Richard dude again. But then the music was so calming, and Louie’s eyelids started drooping. His head started to drop, and then the next thing he knew he was jerking awake and looking at the clock.

“Oh shit! You slept for an hour Louie? Oh goooood why am I such a fucking idiooooot,” he moaned, putting his head in his hands and shaking his head desperately. This was so bad. Louie was so doomed if he didn’t get this paper done by midnight. He had four hours left or something, but he needed every damn second of that time. Writing all of this was so much harder for him than other people. Other people didn’t struggle to keep focused on one thing for as long as Louie did. He was going to fail and end up as a horribly sad janitor and everyone would laugh at him. Louie could see a tragic future.

So he decided he was going to pep up his mood a little. He took a nap? Now it was time to play some lively music and get back into it. Louie turned on Green Day. Louie started bobbing his head enthusiastically, glancing over at his computer to see what he could add about this Richard guy. If he were truly honest, the history was kind of interesting, but Louie still couldn’t keep himself focused enough to get through it more efficiently. He was on to the next little segment for himself, eyebrows furrowing as he debated how to put it.

Richie becm duk of gloucster n a knight of the roun table? or just a knight? something bout a garter. He was placed in a house of the kingmaker guy and grew to be an adult there i guess. ADULTS WERE 16. means im an adult and-

Louie cut himself off. Not important for the purposes of the essay, but he did debate over coming at his uncle with that. Like, ‘listen Uncle Donald, I know there are some dumb rules here, but I’m an adult in the medieval world. I can do what i want!’ Yeah, that probably wouldn’t go over very well, but Louie liked to believe he could have more control over his life. It gave him a satisfying feeling. Or the pretense of satisfaction. Much more satisfying than working on this thrice cursed paper for History. 

He tapped his pen against his chin, tilting his head as he tried to review some more notes and stuff when an absolute bop of a Green Day song came on. “Oh shit, gotta turn that up.” Louie turned up the volume for his speakers and got to his feet, dramatically playing the guitar for the song. It was too good to ignore! “I walk a lonely road the only one that I have ever knowwwwwwwn don’t know where it goes but it’s home to me and I walk alone!” Louie belted it out, not caring about who would here because well, apparently none of his family was around to help him suffer less. He rocked the air guitar, letting his head rock with it and himself pretend he was the amazingly talented Mike Dirnt. He forgot himself for a song before sighing and heading back towards his table and misery. Why did history have to suck so badly?

“Okay Richard, man...couldn’t you help a guy out and write this for me?” Louie suggested with a laugh, shaking his head as he glanced down at what he’d written. He really didn’t have much at all. He was doomed to a life of failure and crime probably. While his brother Huey became Prime Minister or some shit one day, Louie would be nothing. A no good hoodlum or a janitor or a tragically broke musician or something. The longer this went on the more depressing his future looked. He could cry. “Right so so...war of the roses started again right? It stopped chilling out....when.” His eyebrows furrowed, glancing at his paper and the computer with a sigh.

The rose war started up agin in 1469 when Richard and King Edwrds bro n the kingmaker guy Warwick were like ‘f u Edward’ n seized control of Eddie an his gov. Our dude Richie stayed loyal cuz he wasnt a piece of shit bro.

Louie glanced over what he wrote and shrugged. Was it informal? Yes. Did he basically know the history of this dude? Sort of. Mostly. Honestly, at least Louie was making the story more accessible. Maybe this paper could be his Hamilton. He was just offering it to the masses. The masses wanted information that wasn’t horribly bland and basic! Louie was totally delivering on that. In his opinion anyway. He was still probably going to fail this paper. 

But he had made it so far, so Louie let himself keep trying, figuring he still had a few hours leeway to make it sound more “academic” and “boring” rather than his actual writing and thinking style. Why were academic people so lame? Louie sighed, leaning over his paper again to start writing.

Warwick n the dumbass bro reinstated one of the Henrys...3? 4? who the fuck evn knows? 5? Before our man Richie and his bro King Eddie came back n KICKED ASS MAN. Took the throne back after a year lol bitches u tried.

Louie rubbed his eyes tiredly, getting up to go grab himself a snack. He was working hard. He was doing better than usual. Usually by now he’d have given up and just started playing games (or called Mark to do something actually fun). Instead Louie brought himself some crisps, a can of soda, and some chocolate for when it got too depressing to last without sweetness. He could do this! He could do this right? As it got later he started to debate the merit of selling his soul and offering it to Mr. Lyons. Maybe then the dude would go easy on Louie’s best effort. He really had tried.

[kylebrink]

100 Scenarios: 28

Floor 37

It's been a very long day for Security Associate Simon Santos.

A street protest, complete with burning effigy and broken window. Three separate court summonses served, which he knows the boss will not receive well. And now this. An unannounced sanitation contractor shows up at closing time? At least it'll be entertaining to see how the police handle it.

"Hey, no need to hit a panic button, 'kay? It'll just cost you a false alarm fee."

She leans casually on the security desk. She's in gray coveralls, hair in a bun under a ballcap that says C&N Janitorial. Her embroidered name tag reads "Emma" in cursive lettering.

"I have no record of your visit on today's schedule. Perhaps you should leave."

She shrugs her broad shoulders. "If you say so. But the contract was pretty specific about the urgency. You looked it up yet?"

Simon sighs. "Ms...Emma, it is closing time. Even if your contract is valid, I don't have the staff to escort you and I'm not issuing a building pass this late in the day."

Without looking away from him, she reaches down to her heavy keyring and pulls it up to eye level. Sure enough, there's a Banco Credito Superior keycard. With Emma's face on it.

Simon relaxes and his hand slides away from the silent alarm. "In that case, please..." he gestures toward the card reader on the turnstile. Emma hoists the bucket of cleaning supplies and swipes her card.

All Access clearance. Simon glances up from his screen, surprised. Nobody has that but Sra. Martin.

Emma clomps in her work boots to the elevators lobby and presses the call button for the executive express lift. As it arrives, she tips her hat to him and enters. He doesn't see her again until the next day.

That night, he has the dream again. Señora Graciela Martín, CEO of Banco Credito Superior, sitting in a dark cave, hugging her knees and rocking, sobbing. He can't move, can't speak. Just sees her, hears her.

He wakes in a cold sweat. Simon is a protector by nature. Growing up, he took care of his younger siblings, his parents, his grandparents. Still does. Sometimes, that's meant facing some bad people and doing hard things. But he never shies away from it. He can't. It's who he is.

He goes to work as usual. The window is already being repaired and the streetfront is clean again. Another business day is underway. When he gets to the front desk, Javier is there as usual.

"You give her the court papers?" Simon asks.

Javier chuckles. "That's on you man, you accepted them. Here you go." He holds up the three envelopes.

Simon takes them. "Someday maybe you'll surprise me. Do something brave." He walks toward the turnstile. "Or even just a little nice, maybe."

"Was good working with you man," Javier calls out as Simon walks to the elevators.

Simon squares his shoulders and takes a steadying breath as the elevator arrives. His head jerks back in surprise as the doors open. Emma's leaning casually in the corner of the elevator.

"Heya, Simon." She tips her ballcap.

He waits. She jerks a thumb upward. "No, no, I'm goin' up. Step on in."

He lifts his chin and steps in purposefully, turning his back on her to face the button panel. No floors are selected.

He looks over his shoulder at her. "What floor?"

She glances at the summonses in his hand. "All the way up, same's you."

He looks at her a moment longer, then turns and swipes his card over the reader and presses the "EXEC" button at the top of the panel.

The doors close.

"How long you known her, Simon?"

He furrows his brow. "Señora Martín?"

"Yeah."

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, I did some cleaning last night. Long night, lemme tell you, but then I guess you know what I'm talkin' about. You look like a bag of real sad, real tired rocks."

She reaches past him to tap 37. It doesn't light up. She swipes her card and taps again. It lights up.

"I thought you were going to the top?"

"Just thought you should see something first. Something she doesn't wantcha to see." She glances at his keycard.

He shakes his head. "Some areas are restricted for safety reasons. We are doing construction on 37. Non-essential personnel don't have access until construction is complete."

"Hm. Seems like security should have access to everything."

This concerns him. She is right. But he doesn't let it show.

The elevator opens. There is no sign of construction work. There is, instead, a small lobby with two chairs and a plastic potted plant. Beyond are carpeted hallways lined with doors.

She steps out and sits in one of the chairs, gesturing to the other one. "Okay. While you quit gaping, I'll tell you about last night."

He sits silently.

"I'm here to clean up a mess. And it's a big one. So I gotta get a look at it first, make sure I don't miss a spot.

"This bank? It's the middle of the stain. BCS has been buying up and closing out all kinds of loans. Mostly real estate. Mostly residential. Some medical. Driving people out into the street. The kind of people who can't take that. Whose lives will be ruined, or lost.

"But it wasn't always like that. Remember Elena García?"

He nods. "The former CEO. Before Sra. Martín."

"Yeah. She hired us. Before she retired. Contract's still valid, at least for now. Anyhow, she said Sra. Martín changed. Got real...cold, she said. Just a few months ago.

"That's when the buyouts started, y'know."

Emma waved a hand around her. "And here, on this floor, is where she's been doin' the research. She doesn't go home at night, you notice? Doesn't sleep. She goes here. Lemme show ya."

For the next hour, Simon followed Emma from room to room to room. Each had multiple workstations connected to, from what they could read on the screens, freelance researchers on multiple continents digging into public records looking for real estate loans with specific characteristics.

"Simon. She's literally looking to find the most harm she can do."

"I...this isn't like her," was all he could manage.

"I know."

He looked at her. "You do?"

"Yes. I think she's trying to stay alive."

"What?"

"What do you know about chaneques?"

"What!?"

"Stay with me. This is important. What do you know about chaneques?"

"They...they aren't real. They are in stories. Little elves who guard sacred places."

"It's more than that. You know why I came late last night? To talk to you, Simon. Because you are the last person in this building who knew Graciela Martín before working with her. You were friends. If she's going to reach out to anyone here, it'll be you."

"You are not making sense. What does this have to do with elves? What kind of...janitor are you?"

She looks at him calmly. "Why haven't you been sleeping, Simon?"

"I..." He looks at her. For some reason, he continues. "I have dreams. Of Graciela. Alone, in a...a cave I think. I don't sleep well."

"Yesss!" She makes a victory fist. "We have a chance!"

Simon looks even more confused.

"Chaneques defend sacred places by scaring the soul out of you, then hiding it. Usually, if you don't get your soul back, that means you get sick and die. Pretty fast, maybe a week.

"But sometimes," she shakes her head slowly, "being soulless is an advantage. Soulless people can live off misery. You lose your soul, there you are dying, but then you do something that makes someone really miserable. Boom, you get a hit of life. And if you connect those dots..." she looks around to indicate the entirety of Floor 37.

Simon just gapes. Is she mad? Or is he?

"Okay!" Emma slaps her knees and stands. "Let's get this cleaned up. We just gotta get Graciela her soul back."

She presses the elevator call button.

"The dream, it's the same every time?"

Simon slowly nods.

"Perfect!" Emma hands him a business card as the elevator arrives. "Tonight, when you're in the cave, give me a call."

"From...my dream?"

"Yep!" The doors close.

A work boot pokes out just in time to reopen them.

Emma points at the summonses. "Hey, ah, don't deliver those today. Remember she's hungry for misery, yeah?"

The doors close as she tips her ballcap.