#and this document has links to other documents too. what the hell was anyone gonna share this with me

[muirneach]

my job loves to have whole documents that tells us what to do in literally every situation which is epic except none of the documents are like. shared. ever. everything i know about my job i have gleamed from reading my coworkers emails to clients

[angstylittleguy]

Introduction: Josiah Lowell

An introduction to Josiah Lowell, who has unwillingly bailed on Bennett due to his abilities.

tw: Body Dysphoria, Detachment

character context: Josiah has the ability to turn invisible, though never on his own accord. When he is invisible, he loses his sense of touch and can become intangible. Bennett frequently gets stuck in time loops and the only way to get the loop to end is for him to survive the day.

word count: 1.5k

-> In Which Everything Goes Wonderfully Wrong masterpost link: Here

-> character introductions and moodboards: Here

Bennett thought he was doing the right thing. He had the opportunity to hang out with Rory and Dalton—his friends who understood what it was like to have these stupid powers—but it felt important to spend time with his roommate, Josiah. They hadn’t hung out in a while, and with Bennett having been stuck in a loop for the past week and a half, he felt like it was time to finally have one-on-one time with Josiah. They were planning to go out tonight, the two of them. Bennett’s mouth watered at the thought of their favorite burger joint, a place they discovered their freshman year. 

He creaked open the door of their shared dorm. “Josiah? You here? Ready to head out?”

No answer.

He called out again, louder this time. The silence stretched, almost too long. Josiah’s laptop was open on his desk. The screen was left open on a word document, the cursor blinking from where he stopped typing. 

“Jo?”

Bennett’s fingers twitched at the thought of Josiah having left without telling him, but that didn’t feel like something he would do. He wasn’t the type to leave without a note or go off without warning. 

Maybe he was out with someone? 

He tapped out a text:

Hey, ready to go?

Bennett stared at the screen for a moment, tapping the edge of the phone with his thumb. The soft buzz of his phone vibrating in his hand made him jump. A new message from Josiah popped up:

Something came up, we��ll have to reschedule.

Bennett’s stomach dropped. He stared at the text, wondering what the hell had come up. It wasn’t like Josiah to leave him hanging like this. They’d been roommates for three years now. They usually made time for each other, even when their schedules were busy.

He frowned, glancing back at Josiah’s open laptop and his shoes discarded by the door. What could have come up?

He sighed, texting back quickly:

Alright. I’m gonna go hang with Rory and Dalton. Let me know if you need anything.

No reply.

Bennett’s frustration twisted into something that was hard to name. He stuffed the phone into his pocket and turned to leave. As he stepped out of the room, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Something in the pit of his stomach, nagging at him.

…

Josiah sat huddled in the corner of the room, his knees pulled up to his chest, trying to make himself smaller. His entire body felt like it was vibrating with the weight of the silence that pressed down on him. He had been invisible for hours now, trapped in this strange, suffocating state, and he couldn’t shake the deep, gnawing fear that had rooted itself in his gut.

Why was this happening? What was going on with him?

His hands trembled, and he gripped the edges of his knees harder, desperate to hold onto something real, something that grounded him. But everything around him felt so… distant. The air, the walls, the desk. Even his own skin.

He tried to focus, tried to think clearly, but his thoughts kept scattering like dust in the wind, like the particles of himself that had slipped away each time he became invisible. Josiah didn’t know how long this would last, didn’t know when it would end—or if it would end.

What was he supposed to do? How could he explain this?

He couldn’t tell anyone. He couldn’t tell Bennett.

He swallowed hard, his throat dry, but no words came. The fear clawed at him, suffocating, constricting his chest. Every time he tried to speak, nothing came out. It was as if the very air around him had turned against him, and all he was left with was the oppressive weight of his own isolation.

The phone buzzed in his pocket, dragging him out of his spiraling thoughts. He fumbled to pull it out, his fingers uncoordinated, shaking as he stared at Bennett’s message.

Hey, ready to go?

Josiah’s heart sank. He stared at the message for a long moment, his mind racing with a thousand conflicting emotions. He wanted to tell Bennett the truth. He wanted to scream it out, to explain everything that had been happening, all the fear and the confusion, the way his body felt like it was slipping away piece by piece. But he couldn’t.

With shaking hands, he typed a response, his fingers stumbling over the keys:

Something came up, we’ll have to reschedule.

The lie burned as it left his fingertips. He felt sick to his stomach. Bennett deserved better than this. He deserved honesty. But Josiah couldn’t give him that. Not when his own reality was falling apart.

The phone buzzed again—Bennett’s reply:

Alright. I’m gonna go hang with Rory and Dalton. Let me know if you need anything.

Josiah’s chest tightened painfully at the words. He pressed the phone to his forehead, his eyes squeezing shut as the tears threatened to spill over. He wanted to reach out. He wanted so badly to collapse into Bennett’s arms and tell him everything, but the fear, the shame, the sense of not being enough, it all held him back.

He could already feel the distance growing between them, even though Bennett hadn’t even left the room yet. It was like Josiah had already disappeared, and no one even noticed.

A small, broken sob escaped him before he could stop it. He wiped it away quickly, but it didn’t help. The fear was still there. It was always there.

Everything was slipping.

Josiah couldn’t breathe.

The door clicked shut, and the sound of Bennett’s footsteps faded down the hallway. Josiah was alone. Truly, utterly alone.

He let out a shaky breath, one that he hadn’t realized he was holding. His hands ghosted over his arms, but the sensation felt wrong. Dull. Like his own body wasn’t entirely real. It was always like this when he turned invisible—like he was barely tethered to the world, barely there. 

Josiah’s gaze flicked to the mirror above the dresser, a habit he hadn’t been able to shake even though he knew what he’d see. Or rather, what he wouldn’t. The glass reflected the room back at him, empty and undisturbed, as if he didn’t exist at all.

He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms just hard enough to ground himself in the pain. But even that sensation felt muted, like trying to feel through a layer of thick fog.

This was his life now. His new normal.

It had started so suddenly, out of nowhere. One day, he was just Josiah Lowell, a philosophy major trudging through midterms and trying to figure out what the hell he was doing with his life. And then the mirror had lost his reflection. He’d stared at it for what felt like hours, trying to make sense of the impossible, trying to convince himself it was some kind of prank or hallucination or anything but reality.

But it wasn’t a prank. It wasn’t a trick.

It was him.

And now, the spells came without warning, without pattern, leaving him untethered from everything he thought he knew. He couldn’t predict them, couldn’t control them. He’d wake up one morning perfectly fine, and by lunchtime, he’d be gone, his body fading into nothingness like sand slipping through his fingers.

He’d tried to figure it out. God, he’d tried. He’d kept journals, tracked everything he ate, every place he went, every emotion he felt. But nothing made sense. It wasn’t tied to stress, or exhaustion, or even some weird cosmic punishment—not that he hadn’t considered the possibility.

Josiah rubbed at his face—or he thought he did. His hands passed over where his cheekbones should have been, but there was no texture, no warmth, just the faintest whisper of sensation.

Every time it happened, it felt like he was losing something more. Not just his visibility, but some part of himself. His senses dulled, his reflection disappeared, and with each spell, he felt less there. Less real.

What was he even turning into?

Josiah wanted to scream, to punch something, to do anything to feel alive, but he was too afraid of what would happen if he lost control. What if he couldn’t come back? What if one day he just… faded away entirely? Would anyone even notice? Would they care?

He squeezed his eyes shut, but it didn’t matter. Darkness surrounded him whether his eyes were open or closed.

And Bennett—Bennett didn’t know. Couldn’t know.

Josiah’s breath hitched. He wanted to call Bennett back, to ask him to stay, to help. But the words wouldn’t come. They were caught in his throat, stuck beneath the weight of his fear and shame.

So he sat there, invisible and alone, surrounded by the empty echoes of a room that no longer felt like his own.

[wiggles-mcgee]

hey, first off the bat, im just gonna say: don't worry. Sounds stupid to say and like senseless advice, but I want to reassure you that in the end, things will turn out ok.

Secondly, I relate to this experience hard, because I've been through it. I identified as pansexual from the age of 11/12 (part of a queer friend group in an "all girls" school, like 50% of people in the school were not straight) because in my case, I had never had a crush on anyone yet, which must mean I felt the same level of attraction towards everyone. Like background radiation. My logic was flawed (but i was 11 give me a break) and i eventually refined my explanation, and kept identifying as pan.

But something didn't sit right with me, and so by 16 I'd learnt that sexual and romantic attraction were two different things. I'd had my share of crushes, or what I thought were those, so i considered myself demisexual (I told myself I'd feel it when i met "the right one") and panromantic, then later identifying as ace and demiromantic. Now? I'm settled on asexual, though some things still make me question that, and am on the aromantic spectrum, being myrromantic, demiromantic, and aroflux.

Like you, I also did a fair bit of research!!! I still have a document listing every aspec identity and microlabel i could find online and their definitions and flags, which rates them out of 5 based on how much they fitted me. I'd recommend checking out the LGBTQIA+ wiki, if you haven't already, but just generally having a look online at various aspec identities. You probably don't have to make a google doc and a powerpoint like I did, but if it helps, it helps!

In that research, I also found out about the various types of attraction, including aesthetic and physical attraction, and also gender envy, and all that stuff. The way you can stare at someone and go damn, I'd love everything about being in a relationship with you, apart from the being in a relationship part. The fact you can look at someone and go holy hell. Thats a cool look you got there. I'd love to steal it. That and the realisation that I am nonbinary helped me with figuring this aspect of my sexual+romantic identities out. The eternal question of "do i want to be them or be with them" is still an ongoing debate in my mind sometimes. And the two aren't mutually exclusive!!! So considering the different types of attraction, if you haven't already, and reading up on how they differ, might help you figure out if what you're feeling towards people is linked to your sexuality, romantic orientation, and gender, or none of these things.

I'd definitely also recommend listening to other people's experiences on the subject and seeing if they resonate with you. For me, JaidenAnimations as a pretty big youtuber being ace and her video on the subject was absolutely massive in changing my perspective that hey, this is okay. Other people get this too. I'm not alone in feeling this way. For the sole reason of it resonated with me and I understood, and that was a step closer towards internal acceptance for me. For quite a few of my friends, I was their aspec awakening because I explained what it was for me and how I felt and they had their fanfic "Oh. Oh." moment. Its reassuring to know others have been through this but have figured it out, mostly. Sure, its worrying to wonder id you'll get there yourself, but it helps knowing you aren't alone, they've been here too.

If you're searching for the right label because of a need for an identity, for one label to be the perfect one and everything to just click beautifully into place - I can understand that, I've been there, I know so many people who have. But the real kicker/beautiful thing/pain in the ass, depending on perspective, is that our identities, our orientations, can change over time. I have come out to my friend groups as different identities on like, five occassions. One of my friends has been flipping between bisexual and lesbian identities for years, trying to figure out which feels right for her, and recently is considering if she's aspec in addition to this. Another friend figured out last year they're demiromantic in addition to being a lesbian. It's ok to not be certain, or to change your mind at a later date because you've figured out that, hey, this identity applies to me a lot better than the previous one. Its about whatever is right at the time.

And you're never "just" anything - straight asexuals are still a valid part of the aspec community, along with allosexual aromantics. Even if this ends up being the identity you settle on, you are still valid and welcome here, and anyone who tells you otherwise can go fuck themselves. Being asexual or aromantic or anywhere on those spectrums doesn't make you lesser than other queer people, either. You don't have to hit a certain quota of queer to be a part of our community. You are enough.

I'm not sure how useful or relatable any of these experiences or advices are to your situation, but I want to reassure you again: you are not alone. I've been through a similar experience, I know other friends who have been through this. Our end points were all different - I'm asexual and on the aro spectrum, some of them are also ace and aro, some of them are aroallo, some figured out they were identities other than straight, and some just didn't slap any labels on because none felt right for them - but we've all been on the same journey. Even if it takes you years, I believe you'll reach a point where you feel comfortable enough in your own skin, regardless of any identity labels. And I sincerely hope that you do find an identity that suits you, that you are comfortable with.

Question: Am I asexual?

Answer:

Im 17 years old and just (6 months ago) got out of my first relationship. The first time I was kissed too (maybe I’m late to that game I don’t really care though). The first time I kissed someone I thought “how many seconds do I have to kiss someone before pulling away seems normal and not rude because this is off, I don’t know what to do”.

I conducted some research(VERY research oriented person), and now that I’ve thought about it I can’t think of a single person I’d actually want to have sex with. Like go down on me. I thought I was pansexual but now I’m worried I’m just a straight asexual person (17 F). Because someone I know is bi and she said she was really into tits but I’m not into tits is that because I’m straight or because I’m ace???

Everyone, since I was 12, has thought I was gay. I grow up in a very queer welcoming community so it’s not condemned like in many other communities but, for example: my sister once told me that she would be very sad (I was 14) if I turned out to be bi because she wanted me to be a lesbian. Most people ask me for my pronouns, because I’m a girl with short hair (can’t be tied up) and wear man’s clothes, and I run in circles where EVERYONE is gay.

Am I Demisexual and I just haven’t found someone yet? Because I think people are pretty and even hot, but I’ve never seen ANYONE and thought “oh I’d like them to go down on me”. And I’m worried that I’ve misled everyone for years and am basically going to have to come out as straight because I like girls, but I only want to cuddle with them and be domestic, same goes with guys and everyone really.

Help, if you can, with what you think, or what I could read/watch/listen to in order to figure it out. I just feel like everyone around me knows what they are, and I still don’t.

[misterewrites]

A Part of Something Bigger (Welcome to the Underground!)

Hello everyone! E here, hoping you are safe and sound and doing good! The new chapter of the Underground is here and I'm excited for this and the next chapter. I am so happy I finally get to reveal something I’ve had in my head since I first started creating the Underground! Man am I cheek E. oh puns, I’m terrible. 

:D

I hope you are all have a great week! Stay safe, wash your hands, take care of each other, get the vaccine if you can, push for companies to give it world wide all that jazz. Feel free to comment (I love feedback) tell your friends, reblog I appreciate it all!

If you’re new and curious what the heck I’m talking about, feel free to check out the whole story and have access to my other work right in the link below (cuz I’m 95% Tumblr has shadowbanned me) 

https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrE42/pseuds/MrE42

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27814297/chapters/68094967 (first chapter)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27814297/chapters/78927370 (latest chapter) 

Have a great week, E is out!

Summary:  Turns out Oliver is a part of the Choir, a secret organization that operates within the Underground. Something big is happening tonight and It's up to Oliver and his allies to ensure it does not. However, the bard has to figure out what's going on before anything else.

-----

Oliver had been many things in the 18 years of his begrudging existence: An orphan, a thief, a con-kid, hopelessly in love, a scout, fry cook that one week and an aspiring minstrel. Many masks and different roles to survive each new day.

The one he took a quiet pride in was being a member of the Choir, a secret organization whose goal was to keep the Underground free from malicious and devious intent.

Every society had their dark, treacherous shadows where evil did its business (Oliver assumed. He only really ever lived in the Underground but you know universal constants and such.) The Choir’s purpose was to ensure those plans never came to fruition.

Rather than being an openly known identity, the Choir was more a loose collection of independent agents operating under secrecy. The organization employed any and everyone who was willing to fight for the cause, each in their own way: Merchants passed coded information, tavernkeepers offered safe havens, those with some level of magical proficiency gathered to study abnormal phenomenon. Fighters fought, clerics healed with lords and ladies used their influence for the greater good.

Sometimes, as is the case now, one individual was too limited for what was required of the organization’s purpose. In these rare moments, agents were granted permission to request help, often leaving hidden messages and imagery for other wandering members to respond to.

That’s what brought Oliver here to this dark alley in the middle of the night: When he first arrived to the capital, he caught sight of the coded symbol asking for any Choir member to lend their skill set to a mission tonight. No details added but that was par for the course.

Terri was the first to recover, her slivers eyes wide with wonder “A soprano? No joke?!Flora, he’s like you!”

Terri was tall, taller than anyone else here. She wore a red vest with torn off sleeves, probably because her muscles were too thick to actually allow them to exist in the first place. Her long jet black hair was elegantly tied into braids with her dark blue leggings tucked into thick hiking boots.

Flora pursed her lips thoughtfully, irises of lavender giving Oliver a curious look “A fellow magic user? Interesting. Wizard?”

“Bard” Oliver corrected “You?”

“Druid.” Flora spoke before drifting into an uncomfortable silence. Oliver suspected she wasn’t impressed by his response.

Flora seemed unassuming but Oliver knew better than to be lured in by appearances: Long silvery hair with petals of green and yellow flowers scattered within. She wore a white blouse with splotches of brown dirt and a long green skirt. Her feet were bare and free to be soiled by the floor.

Terri rushed over to the petrified Tyrell, dragging him into a bone crunching hug “Tyrell here is a baritone like me!”

Tyrell, the youngest beside Oliver, shifted his brown eyes away from anyone’s gaze. He wore rather well kept clothes: A tunic of purple tucked under a leather vest, his leggings were dark gray that blended fairly well in the darkness. His footwear seemed a little too fancy to be workman’s shoes.

“Fighters” Oliver nodded in understanding “Always useful. And you mysterious stranger in the darkness?”

The cloaked figure had pulled back deeper into the shadows, red eyes gleaming in the shades of night. They were trying to hard to hide their appearance but Oliver caught sight of a smooth featureless bronze face. Metallic armor of a matching color and sheen covered the rest of their body, an automaton it seems.

“You may call me Sel. I’m a tenor.” the figure responded, their voice tinged with scratchy static.

“You are going very useful. Lockpicking?”

Sel shrugged casually “Among other less savory techniques. As per usual for tenors.”

Oliver nodded “Okay, fill me in.”

Flora took a step forward, pulling a letter out of her pocket as she did so “Are you aware of one Reiner Brambleoak?”

“Oh fucking hell” Oliver rubbed his eyes tiredly “Him again? What’s he planning this time: Gonna burn an orphanage? Or maybe sell moldy food to the poor? Wait, I know!” Oliver snapped his finger “He’s going to be a terrible piece of shit.”

“Right on the money!” Terri growled.

Sel let out a mechanical click “He is planning to tear down several homes in West Haven.”

Oliver narrowed his eyes “I thought it was illegal to tear down homes in that area?”

“Not if the owners signed them over.” Flora explained “Then he would have the authority to do whatever he wished with them.”

“Let me guess, he tricked them?”

Terri flexed her muscles angrily “His representatives would change languages and double talk when they spoke to the poor folks. Most hadn’t the slightest idea what was going on and the orc thugs his people brought didn’t exactly make them feel warm and safe.”

“So.” Oliver stretched his arms “He’s strong armed his way into property, going to evict helpless folks onto the street and probably fill them with his own thugs to get the rest of the neighborhood to fall in line.”

“Unless we stop him.” Sel spoke with righteous fury.

“Tonight.” Oliver chimed in “Throwing another party?”

“You are good.” Tyrell whistled.

Oliver gave a playful wink “Naturally. What’s the plan?”

Flora reached into her pack and handed Oliver a letter: it was written in such a fancy hand he swore he was getting a headache just looking at it.

“One for each of us.” Flora explained, distributing the rest to the others “A fellow Choir member secured these tonight’s mission.”

“Helpful. Alright here’s the plan….”

“Wait” Flora interrupted “Who said you are in charge bard?”

“Me” Oliver countered with a grin “Because I’ve been to these types of festivities. Have any of you?”

Flora opened her mouth then promptly closed it, irritation in her glance. Tyrell gave a sheepish but unhelpful smile, Sel remained silent while Terri gave a thoughtful scratch of her chin.

“Thought so.” Oliver tried to keep the smugness out of his voice “Look we just need to work together for tonight.”

“Agreed.” Flora spoke with a softness that did not match her glare.

Sel inched closer to the group “What is the plan Oliver?”

“Where’s the party? Merchant Ward? I assume he’s using his office to host it.”

“Correct” Sel confirmed “His office has been chosen as the venue. He claims to be throwing the party as some sort of fundraiser for a charity that is no doubt a front for his illegal operations.”

Terri huffed, crossing her arms furiously “Probably making some more deals to trick people out of their hard earn money.”

“Without a doubt” Oliver agreed “But without any hard proof, we’re not taking him down tonight. Our mission is to ensure those contracts he forced people to sign mysteriously disappear.”

“Will that actually stop him?” Tyrell frowned unhappily “What’s stop him from forging new ones? Or just bullying people again?”

“He can’t forge new ones” Oliver explained carefully “They’re a special type of document only found here in Haven’s Nest. You can only get them from city hall and they’re magically enchanted to be untamperable with. He’ll need to get the ones he has to city hall on open court day which I assume is soon.”

“Indeed. Tomorrow in fact.”

Oliver continued on “So since open court day is the only day any major changes are allowed to be introduced to the city, if we grab them he’ll have to wait a month for another chance of snatching up that land. He’ll no doubt try to bully the folks again but now that they know what he’s up to, hopefully they’ll won’t be as easily pressured and if a few rough looking folks who can take punches and give them back start hanging around the neighborhood when his goons come knocking again…”

“They’re gonna be less eager” Terri cracked her knuckles cheerfully, already savoring the feel of bruised skin and broken bones that would bless her hands.

Oliver caught Tyrell’s eyes “One problem at a time. If you look at the mountain, you’re going to get scared.”

Tyrell nodded timidly in agreement.

“So.” Sel’s voice crackled with curiosity “What is the plan bard?”

Oliver closed his eyes, mentally mapping out the Brambleoak bank: three stories of corrupted, immoral finance who preyed on the helpless and lost. He could still see the faded green hue and cracked paint of the building in his mind’s eye. The ground floor would no doubt be where the bulk of the party would be taking place: a large space with an elevated stage normally reserved for long winded speeches could easily repurposed for a band or some sort of entertainment. His guests would range from any and everyone with any amount of influence or wealth. The second floor were the offices of his lecherous employees while his office took up the entirety of the third floor.

“Alright” Oliver spoke after a moment “I have a good idea what to expect. We’re going to break up into two teams.”

Everyone stared him expectedly.

Oliver gestured to Terri and Tyrell “You two are going to hang out at the bar across the street: The Stinkeye. Charming place, ran by a former pirate captain. Sunday is sea shanty night I think."

“Whoa, wait a minute” Terri grumbled unhappily “I am not letting Flora go into that place without me! It’s enemy turf and I don’t feel comfortable with the idea."

Flora took Terri’s hand within her own “Agreed sweetie.”

“Look this isn’t exactly a fist loaded, knives out situation. Any sort of brawling inside will be dealt with swiftly and painfully. Brambleoak doesn’t like anything scaring away the prey and causing a scene inside won’t accomplish anything. Outside, however.”

Terri’s eyes knowingly sparkled, Tyrell just looked dumbfounded.

Oliver gestured with his hand, muttering a phrase under his breath as magic formed around his hand in a golden light. A small image appeared in his palm: A heavily scarred elf with ashy blonde hair, one eye a brilliant forest green the other dull and cloudy. He wore an elegant officer’s uniform, dark green with various medals pinned to his chest with a long flowing red cape that trailed behind.

Oliver opened mouth to speak but Terri’s low snarl beat him to the punch.

“Lea Foot.”

“Acquaintance I guess?””

Flora nodded, gently squeezing Terri’s hand to get her to calm down “Lea has been a constant thorn in our sides. I believe he suspects we are a part of some greater organization. He has never seen us but he sends his underlings to bully us.”

“So I don’t need to explain his whole mercenaries for hire deal. Been exclusive to Brambleoak for a while now.”

“Can I punch him?” Terri murmured darkly.

“Yes, can she?” Flora chimed in, unable to keep the plead out of her voice.

Oliver shook his head “Maybe but we’ll see. He’s gotta show up at some point but I doubt he’ll be there right at the start. Likes to push old people around, probably eat a child or two before ‘working.’ Your job is to keep him distracted at all costs. He’s a sick man that likes to watch a good fight and the longer he’s out there, the better chance we’ll have.”

Sel tilted their head quizzically “Why is it important to keep him outside?”

“Basically” Oliver cracked his fingers “He’s very perceptive and the person most likely to catch our plan in action. His crew is made up of a nobodies with a perchance for cruelty and a thirst for violence but Lea is an old hand. Keeping himself outside is the best chance for success and if you guys accidentally get too close and managed to stray a hit his way…”

Terri chuckled manically the idea. Tyrell just looked sick.

“Meanwhile Flora, Sel and I will be inside. We’ll be looking for a chance to get Sel into the stairway so he can break into Brambleoak’s office. Without any sort of information, there’s no point to flesh out a full plan but we’ll make it up as we go. It’s a giant party of people who think they’re special. Shouldn’t be too hard to cause some drama and distractions.”

Flora said silent for a moment before speaking up “It’s not a lot to work with but admittedly better than anything I would’ve come up with.”

“Agreed.” Sel added “Without proper intel, it would be pointless to attempt to formulate any sort of long term plan. This works best to our strengths. Wait and create an opportunity,”

“That’s on us.” Oliver cut in “Your job is to get in and out. Preferably without being seen but who knows what will happen.”

The group, previously lost and anxious, glowed with renew sense of purpose and determination: 10 minutes ago they had no plan and now they were ready to do what they signed up for.

“Get ready team” Oliver gestured about “We leave in five.”

Everyone broke away to prepare for the mission: Terri cracked every bone in her body, ready for any brawl she would start. Sel slunk back into the shadows and remained still among the darkness. Tyrell held leaned unevenly against the brick building nearby, trying to steady his breathing.

Flora, on the other hand, approached Oliver, her voice dropping to a whisper.

“Oliver.”

“Flora.”

“I have a question for you.”

Oliver was confused “I’m not sure what about but go ahead.”

Flora pursed her lips “You were coming from West End, delivering a package to a Choir member out there correct?”

“Yeeeeees.” Oliver unsure where this was going “The old man. Lady Rozalin said it was the upmost importance.”

Flora bit her cheek nervously “Before you left, did you see him?”

His stomach turned cold as he remembered how uneasy he felt the day he left with Archie and Abigail, the chill that ran down his spine “No, why?”

“We haven’t been able to contact him. He is not responding to our wizards long range message spells. We’re…..worried.”

Oliver could feel his skin crawl with anxiety, his pulse raced as a horrible realization dawned on him.

“He’s missing.” Oliver spoke what Flora did not.

She nodded in response “As a high ranking member, he is important to our cause and since you were the last person to see him, the higher ups were wondering if anything suspicious happened the last day you spoke with him.”

Oliver remembered it clearly: The free money, rushing them out the door, his ‘tiredness.’ There was no such thing as free money in his mentor’s eyes and Roland was never known for pushing a guest out of his house or being tired in the middle of the day. He was attempting to get them to leave to prevent something from happening.

“He was acting weird.” Oliver admitted “At the time I found it strange but he gave me little room to argue. Now I’m wishing I had.”

Flora’s face was indifferent but Oliver could hear the sincerity in her voice “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this. If you need a moment…”

“No” Oliver cut her off quickly “I’m good. We have a mission to do and we need to focus on that now. Afterwards we can talk about finding out what happened to the old man.”

Flora gave a simple nod before wandering over to Terri’s side, lightly kissing her cheek with affection.

Oliver took a deep calming breath: There was no point to let his mind wander, to worry about things out of his control. Even if he wanted to do something, he was needed here and now. Besides the Choir would investigate Roland’s disappearance and there were agents far more experienced than he about.

He would leave it up to them. For the moment he needed to balance out the universe and root out the evil that laid in the shadows.

[onecanonlife]

careful son (you got dreamer's plans)

Wilbur gasps back to life with mud between his fingers and rain in his eyes.

Wilbur was dead. Now, he is not. He can't say that he's particularly happy about it.

Unfortunately, the server is still as tumultuous as ever, even with Dream locked away, so it seems that his involvement in things isn't a matter of if, but when.

(Alternatively: the prodigal son returns, and a broken family finally begins to heal. If, that is, the egg doesn't get them all killed first.)

Chapter Word Count: 5,482

Chapter Warnings: swearing, blood, referenced (temporary) character death

Chapter Summary: In which Wilbur overhears a conversation that is not quite meant for him, and then they all set out to pick up Technoblade. It’s not the worst road trip in the world, but it’s not exactly the best, either.

(masterlist w/ ao3 links)

(first chapter) (previous chapter) (next chapter)

Chapter Thirteen: wipe the dirt off of your hands (i)

They settle on two hours as a timeline. Two hours before they leave: he, Phil, Tommy, and Tubbo, the four of them off to the tundra. He’s left the rest of them to decide whether they want to stay in the castle or be among those braving the rest of the server in order to warn the others, to bring anyone who wants to come back with them to their base of operations. Safe and sound, or as much as anyone can be, now.

Two hours. It feels like too long. Dream could be doing anything with that time. The Egg could be doing anything with that time. He feels restless, irritated at the wait, even though he knows it makes sense, knows that pushing everyone too hard too soon will do more harm than good, that two hours, in the grand scheme of things, isn’t very long.

(but isn’t it, though? two hours can change the tide of a battle, can mean the difference between success and failure, life and death, a surrender and a victory)

He finds himself pacing the hallways of the castle.

It’s in greater disrepair than he expected. Almost every room he walks into is coated in dust. No one has stayed here in—months, probably. No one other than Eret, perhaps, and he said he’d been away. It puts him in a strange mood; he remembers this place when it was new, when it was lived in, spilling over with light and movement, and he hated it then, of course, hated what it stood for, what it represented, but it made others happy. Niki, for one; she always liked Eret, despite his efforts to persuade her otherwise. Fundy,

(and the memory is fuzzy, indistinct, because Ghostbur did not want to remember this, did not want to confront his own inadequacy, but Fundy stands in front of him with papers clutched in his hand and he’s saying something about adoption and all that he feels is crushing abandonment, crushing guilt, and it is wiped away in the blue only a moment later but for that moment, he is overwhelmed by the knowledge that he has failed his son, failed him badly enough that he would run to the arms of a traitor, and the word adoption drips like sodden soil, drips like words that die useless on his tongue)

because he always liked Eret too, even though he was there that day, even though he lost a life to his machinations, his betrayal, even though he should have known better. He’s pretty sure he remembers HBomb staying here as well, though he never knew the man well enough to pay attention. But now there is no one, and the castle is empty, and every step he takes feels haunted by ghosts of people that still live.

The castle is a relic. Perhaps he is one, too. A relic of an older time. This server has moved on, has changed so much, and he plays at being the general again, puts on the general’s mask as it is needed, but he doesn’t know if that’s right, if it makes any difference at all, if the general can find his footing in an altered world. How useful is a general that doesn’t know the lay of the land?

(how useful is a general who has not won the war within himself?)

(the part of you that could lead broke a long time ago and you know it and it was not the ravine that did it you were broken before then broken under the weight of a position you did not know how to handle and your shining city stood for freedom stood for those you wanted to protect but it became harder and harder to get out of bed in the morning and you crumpled crumpled like wet paper like the documents that signed your emancipation and meant nothing at all in the end because the ideals fell apart long before you set the final nail in the coffin you built for yourself)

Two hours. Less than that, by now, surely. If Phil were to see him, he’d tell him to rest. Perhaps that’s part of why he’s doing this. Wandering alone. Because if Phil were to see him, he’d tell him to rest,

(hypocrite that he is, because Wilbur knows that Phil is not resting, knows that he’s situated himself at the castle’s highest turret, eyes cast to the distance, shoulders tense and posture still, waiting, a live wire)

but he cannot, cannot dispel the energy that buzzes through him, even though his mind is fogged with exhaustion. He cannot rest, and not least because he doesn’t know what kind of dreams would greet him, what would rise out of the darkness now that he knows precisely what lurks within it.

So he walks. Walks, and walks, and tries not to count the minutes as they pass, walks several laps through the castle’s corridors before the sound of voices breaks him out of his fugue.

“—talking about?” someone says, and it’s Tommy. He slows to a stop outside of a closed door, identical to all the rest but for the fact that there is someone inside.

“I mean it,” comes the reply. Tubbo. His voice is muffled by the barrier between them, but Wilbur can understand him perfectly. And for a moment, he considers moving onward. Whatever they’re discussing, they don’t need him listening in on it.

Instead, he inches closer, and leans against the wall just outside the door. The stone is hard against his back, unforgiving, cold.

“I can do the most good here,” Tubbo continues. “You all don’t need me to come with you to get Technoblade. That’s—Tommy, this is serious, you know?”

“I fucking know,” Tommy snaps. “I don’t see why that means you’ve got to stay behind.”

“Because I can actually help here,” Tubbo replies, his voice rising slightly. “Tommy—listen, Tommy, I know about these kinds of things. Not enough, but some, and I can help. I can try to keep it out. I can put enchantments all over the place and stuff like that, try to make sure it can’t get to us. Try and make it a safe place. That’s something we need right now.” He pauses. “Take Ranboo with you instead, yeah? He lives up there, he’s close with Techno, he should go.”

“I don’t want to leave you here,” Tommy says.

Wilbur closes his eyes. There is more emotion in his voice than this situation alone would warrant, he thinks. More history. More history that he, perhaps, is not privy to. That he hasn’t asked about, that he didn’t want to ask about, because he didn’t want to prod at wounds that have not yet closed. He regrets it, now. Perhaps then he would have context for the crack in Tommy’s voice.

“I know,” Tubbo says, his voice soft. “But you’ve got to. We’ve got to do what we’ve go to do now, big man. You and Wil go get Techno and look at Phil’s books. I’ll be here when you get back.”

He expects strong words from Tommy at that. But instead there is silence. Wilbur strains to hear, leans in closer, but there is nothing.

“This isn’t like then,” Tubbo says after a moment. “We’re both safe. Wilbur won’t let anything happen to you. And nobody here’s gonna let anything happen to me. I’ve got Eret, and Sapnap, and Puffy.”

“Oh, well, if Eret’s here,” Tommy mutters, and Wilbur jerks. Tommy’s voice is choked, wet, and for a second, his instinct is to open the door, to step inside and offer what comfort he can, but his feet feel glued to the floor.

(this is not for you not for you to heal these hurts when the root of the hurt is of you this is them their moment and you are on the outside looking in a trespasser and if you move anywhere it must be to go)

“I thought you forgave Eret,” Tubbo says.

“I do,” Tommy replies. “This is—this isn’t about that, and you know it, I just—”

“I know,” Tubbo says, “I do, I know.”

There is silence after that. A rustle of clothing. And then a few muffled noises. Wilbur knows all too well what it sounds like, someone crying into someone else, allowing themself a moment of grief, of terror, of unbridled emotion. He should leave. Leave them to it. Leave them to this. It’s the least he can do; this is his fault, his fault that they’re involved in this, his fault that they’ve been dragged into conflict once again, his fault that anything terrible happened to them at all. His fault they’re not all still at home, on a server far away, in the house that he and Tommy grew up in and that Tubbo may as well have.

(you took them with you and made soldiers out of them, soldiers out of children. you took them with you and set the weight of the world on their shoulders, and the way their eyes dimmed is because of you. the burn scars on Tubbo’s face, the tremble in Tommy’s fingers that he tries fruitlessly to hide, this is all because of you. you took children and gave them grownups’ clothes and grownups’ weapons and guided their hands to pierce the heart, guided their hands with your own and claimed the blood for yours though it did not change the way their hands were painted, and then you abandoned them, abandoned them to yourself and then, at the last, fully, abandoned them in every way possible, abandoned them to the wolves and the ruins and you should have known better, should have known that even if the land was not important to you it was important to these children, these children you sent to hell with songs on their lips)

(but then, there is this also: they would not have had it any other way. they looked at you with stars in their eyes, and perhaps they were blinded by the fire of you, but they loved you. they loved you then, and they love you still. and they will follow you yet despite it all despite what you have done they will follow you and their eyes are open to what you are and they still follow and it must be for love little though you deserve it it must be for love because love is not about deserving)

He breathes. Puts his back to the wall, and then slides down. Sits. Listens to Tommy cry. Presses his eyes shut, and then presses the palms of his hands to his eyes until spots of color flicker on the back of his eyelids.

He stays there for a long time before lurching to his feet once again.

----------

“I didn’t miss this,” Tommy mutters, rubbing his arms, glaring balefully at Phil as if he controls the weather.

Phil offers a short laugh. Out of all of them, he’s the only one really dressed for the climate; Eret offered them all heavier coats before they left, but there’s heavier coats and then there’s coats meant for a blizzard, and these are not the latter.

“We’ve got some better stuff once we get to the house,” Phil says. “I’ll make us some hot drinks, too.”

“I don’t want your stupid tea,” Tommy says, but he seems mollified.

“I’ll take some tea,” Ranboo says immediately afterward, and Wilbur is having to slowly revise his opinion of this kid. Anxious as all hell, sure. A bit of a pushover, definitely. But he’s got a streak of hardness in him, though he tends to back down upon being challenged. Like right now: Tommy directs his glare toward him, and he apologizes immediately. But he’s a bit of an enigma, this Ranboo. Hidden depths. And Ghostbur liked him, which doesn’t always count for anything, but in this case, he thinks it might.

“Everyone who wants some tea can have some tea,” Phil says, another laugh in his voice. He looks a bit better than he did earlier, though his smile seems strained, his movements rushed, obviously anticipating their arrival at their destination. His wings are hidden again, disguised underneath a thick cloak, and Wilbur hates it all the more, if that’s possible, now that he understands exactly why. He remembers Phil telling him, once, that he disliked keeping his wings under his clothes, that it was uncomfortable, itchy, cramped. And now Phil does it as if it is second nature.

“I wouldn’t mind some tea,” he says softly, and glances away when Phil looks at him.

“Of course, Wil,” Phil says, matching his tone, and then they pass out from under the trees, and Technoblade’s quaint little cottage comes into view.

The windows are dark. No smoke rises from the chimney. It’s a far cry from the last time he saw it, when it seemed to him a bastion against the pervasive chill outside, warm and welcoming, no matter his trepidation about who waited within.

“Well, that’s ominous,” Tommy says, and Wilbur winces.

“Maybe he’s sleeping?” Ranboo tries. “I’ve never lost a life here, but, um, y’know, I used to live on Hypixel. Did some of the arena stuff, respawned a few times. It always made me tired.”

“That’s probably it,” Phil agrees, but his eyes are pinched, and Wilbur can tell that he’s worried. It is an easy thing to read, Phil’s worry. Easy to read, for how common it is. He strains to remember whether this stress he carries with him was nearly as prevalent when they were kids, and he comes up empty.

“Well, let’s go wake him up, then,” Tommy declares, and strides forward with determination, still talking. “I fucking hate this place, it’s such a stupid little house—” Ranboo follows after him, but Wilbur grabs Phil by the arm, delaying him for a second even as he tracks the kids’ progress ahead of them, like they’ll fall into some misfortune if he looks away for a moment.

“You’re worried,” he says.

“Respawn can be tough,” Phil says. “I need to lay eyes on him for myself.”

He knows, of course, what Phil is talking about. He remembers the sensation all too well. Remembers the pain

(in his throat as Punz slashed it, his lifeblood spilling out on his hands as he clutched the wound, his voice silenced, silenced as he tried to breathe but choked on thick copper and it took him a full minute to bleed out on the floor, every second edged with desperate, consuming fear)

(in his back as Punz’s shot sailed true, hit his heart, his vision darkening around the edges as terror flooded him, terror not just for him but for Tommy, for Tommy, his little brother who he never intended to bring down with him)

of dying, and then the void, but not the true void, not the void he remembers all too well,

(not the void that cradled him even as it ate away at all he was)

but a transition, a place both within life and out of it, and a howling second-minute-hour in which he could feel nothing at all. And then, slamming back into consciousness, every nerve burning with the phantom agony of disembodiment, of every cell destroyed and then forced back together, made anew,

(but there was no time to rest no time to work through it because they needed to go needed to run)

gasping back to the living world shaking and barely cognizant.

Respawn can be tough. Is tough. He knows that Techno has experienced it before, if rarely, but that was on different worlds, worlds that do not limit a person’s lives. He has not lost one here. Has not lost one that counted so dearly.

But there is nothing to do now but walk forward.

The house is cold, the fire unlit. Tommy has sobered, and his arms are crossed, almost hugging himself. Ranboo shifts uneasily, gaze flickering around the ground floor, the unlit furnaces, the chests stacked against each other, the windows slanting thin light into the room. Wilbur catches Phil’s eye, and Phil sighs.

“Up here,” he says, and starts up the ladder. He waits a beat before following, something in him oddly reluctant.

He didn’t venture up here, when he visited—how long ago? Not more than two weeks.

(two weeks breathing, two weeks living, and it feels like so, so much longer)

He’s not sure what he was expecting from Techno’s room, but it was probably something like this: chests shoved against the wall, a bell out on display, an emerald block for good measure, bookshelves in every available space. It is very Techno, sparse and yet not, filled with only the things he cares deeply about, cramped but lived-in. But the bed is empty, and it takes a moment for Wilbur to spot where Techno is. When he does, his heart leaps into his throat.

Techno is sitting against the wall, and on first glance, he looks fine. But only on a first glance, because a second tells Wilbur that his breathing is labored, his eyes screwed tightly shut, sweat beading his forehead. His fists are clenched, and fine tremors run through his body, a constant shuddering that must be exhausting.

There is a new scar on his neck. Thick and white.

Ranboo makes a sound, a startled warble. Tommy inhales sharply, and is silent.

Wilbur feels frozen where he stands.

Respawn can be tough. But somehow, this feels like something else.

(his brother is supposed to be invincible unstoppable impervious to pain he is not supposed to be hurt he is not supposed to be hurt and he doesn’t know what to do for something of this magnitude because he knows how to help when the voices get to loud when his voices drown out everything else and give him migraines but this is not that this is deeper than that worse than that)

Phil steps forward, robes swishing as he kneels by Techno’s side. His hands hover, but he does not touch. Wilbur wants to join him, wants to help, but he still can’t make himself move. He’s not sure why this sight has frozen him so; perhaps it’s because he wasn’t prepared for it, even with all his knowledge of the possibilities, even being well aware that no one comes out of losing a life unscathed, ready to jump back into battle, not even Technoblade.

Perhaps there really isn’t anything that can prepare him to see his brother in pain. Even now.

(and the general is useless here, because this is family)

“Hey,” Phil says quietly. “Techno? You awake?”

To his surprise, Techno stirs. Shifts just a bit in place, wincing, and then his eyes crack open. They are dazed, glazed over, the usually piercing red dull and clouded and—

Gold. There is gold in his eyes, too, flickering, flashing, and every time Wilbur catches a glimpse of it, Techno jerks, a convulsion just barely distinguishable from the rest of his shaking. It is a shimmering gold, the same color as the burst of light that hailed his resurrection, that hailed his renewal, that hailed Technoblade never dies, the burst of energy that vibrated in his bones and sent heat skidding across his skin. The light of the totem is in Techno’s eyes, somehow, and it—

It is hurting him.

“Shit,” Phil mutters. “I was worried about this. Techno, can you hear me?”

Techno swallows, his throat bobbing, and Wilbur’s eyes are drawn

(Dream’s axe in his throat and the blood spurts hot and red and he only has a moment to stare at the gaping wound before the sentence comes down and his brother is)

to the scar again. Almost imperceptibly, Techno nods.

“Okay,” Phil says, and his hands finally land, one on Techno’s shoulder and one on his hand, and Techno immediately grasps his fingers in a death grip. Phil winces, but makes no protest. “Okay, you’re gonna be okay, Techno. Not much to do but wait it out, but I can get you some pots that should help. Would that be okay?”

Technoblade huffs, and then nods. Again, just slightly. His eyes flicker around the room, half-lidded, and Wilbur’s not even sure that he’s aware they’re all there, except then, his gaze lands on Tommy and stays there. Tommy flinches, face paling, and he edges back toward the ladder, hands clenching and unclenching, like he thinks that Techno is going to leap up and attack him, somehow, in this state.

(but that’s not it at all—this is the attack, seeing him in this way, seeing him weakened, seeing the result of the action he took, because Wilbur knows himself and he knows Tommy, and he knows that for all his efforts, Tommy takes after him in some ways. Tommy internalizes a lot. internalizes blame, takes responsibility for things outside of his control, things with vast, terrible consequences, even as he avoids responsibility for minor faults, things that no one takes much issue with in the first place. he’s strange like that, Tommy, but he knows all too well that Tommy watched Technoblade die in front of him, for him, and decided immediately that it was his fault. he would have done the same thing. has been doing the same thing)

(Dream’s voice, smooth and confident and hated: how many people are gonna have to sacrifice themselves for you before you learn?)

(the answer: at least one more, always one more, but somebody needs to get it through Tommy’s skull that he is worth it, worth a sacrifice, worth everything that people are willing to give him and more. someone needs to tell him, because he doesn’t think he knows)

Technoblade grunts something, short and clipped, and it takes him a second to realize he’s speaking in Piglin. Not for the first time, he regrets his barely rudimentary knowledge of the language. But Phil understands, and something that is just slightly too pained to be a real smile passes across his face. He answers in kind, and Technoblade relaxes marginally. He sighs, eyes falling shut, and he tips forward a bit, resting his head against Phil’s chest. Phil begins carding a hand through his hair, the motion seemingly automatic.

“Any of you have a weakness pot on you?” Phil asks, switching to the common tongue. “Healing and regen will do more harm than good for him right now. Best thing for him to do is sleep through it.”

He certainly doesn’t. Tommy shakes his head mutely. But Ranboo raises a tentative hand.

“I don’t have any on me, but I might have one at my house?” he offers. “I can go see.”

Phil nods. “Thank you, Ranboo,” he says, and Ranboo nods back, climbing down the ladder, casting once last glance at Techno before he goes. The front door opens and shuts a moment later, and the four of them are alone.

“What’s wrong with him, then?” Tommy asks, after a pregnant silence. “I mean. Respawn fucking sucks. But why is he like this?”

He’s trying too hard not to sound concerned. No one in this room is going to fall for it, except maybe Techno, who seems too out of it to be listening at all, really. But Phil doesn’t call him on it, just grimaces.

“I’ve seen it a few times before,” he says lowly. “Various wars I’ve been in. People could use a totem and then die again in their next breath, if they were unlucky. Respawning from that is always difficult, because the magic from the totem doesn’t have time to work its way out of your system, and it’s not the kind of thing that a respawn wipes away. It’s the opposite, actually. So he’s still got that shit raging through him, except now there’s nothing for it to do, so it’s stuck there until it dissipates. And it’s not—it’s not pleasant, from what I’ve seen. That shit’s potent. Not good to have it in you for too long.”

“And there’s nothing we can do about it?” he checks.

“Short of killing him again? No,” Phil says. “Even that might not work. It’s been a few hours, so he should be coming out of the worst of it pretty soon. But until then, he just needs to rest.”

“C’n hear you,” Techno mumbles suddenly. He shifts so that his face is half-visible, and Wilbur’s not sure he remembers the last time he saw his brother look so vulnerable.

(on a stage in front of a crowd, perhaps, perhaps, peer pressure that he knew Techno would be unable to withstand, an impossible situation laid out before him, to blow his cover or not, to blow his cover and ensure the death of he and Tubbo alike, perhaps, perhaps, and which is better, to pull the trigger and save yourself or refuse and damn you both? but Techno made his choice, and he can only imagine what his face was doing, because a mask covered his expression that day, as it did so many of those days, a barrier between him and his brother. a barrier between the man he became, dark and shadowed and laying out plot threads like he thought himself one of the Fates, a man with the power to chose his own archetype, a barrier between that man and the man he strung along in his wake, cold, impersonal, intimidating, distant, and nothing like what he should have been. what they should have been, together)

It is hard to imagine that this man prides himself on being undefeated. Hard to imagine that only hours ago

(and it feels like days, like weeks, like a month)

this man was gleefully engaging Dream in combat, was winning before Dream decided to play dirty, before he dragged Tommy into it, before he took advantage of what he must have known Technoblade would do if Tommy was threatened, if his final life hung in the balance. Because for all his feelings of betrayal, for all his insistence that he’s done, finished with them, finished with trying, finished with involving himself in their troubles when he gets nothing in return, for all of that—

For all of that, Technoblade still cares for them. He knows that. And Technoblade is loyal to those he loves. Despite it all.

(and it is a bitter pill to swallow, after everything, but if Techno did not want to stand by their sides, he would not have come, whether Phil asked it of him or not. but he did. he did, and this is the price, the consequence)

“Yeah? Then can you hear me calling you a bitch?” Tommy says, and absolutely none of his usual bravado makes it into his voice.

Techno huffs, and if he’s going to say anything, it gets interrupted by the door down below opening and closing again, and then the ladder creaking as Ranboo climbs up.

“Weakness potion,” he says, holding it out, and Phil accepts it, handling it where Techno can see it.

“Taking this ought to help, Tech,” he murmurs. “I know it’s not your first choice, but there’s no point in you being awake while your body sorts this shit out.”

Techno flicks his fingers, a gesture that might loosely be interpreted as meaning go ahead, and then he sags, as if even doing that much has taken up all the energy he has left. But Phil takes it as an affirmative, and he guides the flask up to Techno’s lips, and Wilbur looks away as he prods Techno into swallowing its contents. It feels strangely intimate, uncomfortable, like he’s intruding on something private. Which should be a ridiculous thought; this is his father and his brother, and perhaps he’s never seen Techno hurt as bad as this, but he’s seen him hurt, and Phil has taken care of all of them like this at one point or another.

(but you see this and you cannot help but project and perhaps the intimacy discomfits you because it is not for you because you cannot help but imagine it for yourself and come to the conclusion that you do not deserve it would not deserve it if your positions were reversed)

(or perhaps you see this, and you see yourself standing there, doing nothing, not even speaking a word, and you just feel useless)

“He’s out,” Phil says, only a beat later. “He should be better by tomorrow, maybe even tonight if we’re lucky. These things just need to run their course.” He smooths a bit of hair back from Techno’s face, which is more peaceful now, slack in sleep, only a vague tightness to hint at disquiet.

“Um, well that’s good,” Ranboo says. “What do we do until then?”

“What we came here to do,” Phil says, and gets to his feet, lifting Technoblade in his arms in the same motion. It looks a bit awkward; Techno has more than a foot on Phil, but Phil carries him to his bed with apparent ease. “We came here for information, so that’s what we’ll try to find.” He pauses, frowning. “I don’t like leaving him alone in this state, but he should be alright, and we’ll be—”

“I’ll stay with him,” Tommy says.

Wilbur blinks. Tommy scowls. He looks a bit surprised, almost, like he didn’t expect the words to come out of his mouth. But when faced with the attention of the entire room, he doubles down on it.

“Look, someone should make sure he doesn’t keel over again in his sleep, right?” he says. “Not that I care, but it’d be—it’d be downright inconvenient, now, wouldn’t it? So someone oughta stay, and if we’re gonna be looking at, at books and shit, well, that’s not really my thing. Could be, if I wanted to! But y’know, it’s boring, and I have better things to do quite often. Like, like women and shit. So, maybe if you want to be doing research, I’m not—ugh, maybe I’m not the best man to help with that. So I can stay here with him.”

Phil cocks his head, apparently bemused. “I suppose?” he says. “But, Tommy, are you sure—”

“Oh Prime, yes,” Tommy says, and flaps a hand at all of them. “I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t sure, would I? So go and, go and look through all your stupid old man books, and I’ll stay here. Look, he’s even got a seat for me already.” He stalks across the room and throws himself down on the emerald block, pulling his legs up to sit criss-cross. “It’s like it was made for me. An e-mer-ald throne. Go on. Shoo. Fuck right off.”

His cheeks are a bit flushed. Embarrassment, no doubt, at being caught caring about Technoblade, because that’s what this is, deep down. But he’s fidgeting, too, like he’s nervous, though nervous about what, Wilbur isn’t sure. Nervous about being alone in a room with Techno? Maybe, except Techno is out like a light. Nervous about the rest of them confronting him on it? Also maybe, and Phil looks confused enough to push him on it, so Wilbur decides to step in.

“Good of you to volunteer, Tommy,” he says. “Come get us if he starts making odd sounds or something, I suppose.”

Tommy pulls a face. “Odd sounds,” he repeats dubiously. “That right there, I don’t appreciate the way you said that.”

“Ookay,” Phil says. “Right, then. Come get us if you need us, Tommy. Wil, Ranboo, I’ll show you where we’re going.”

Wilbur follows Phil back down the ladder. But not before looking at the scene one last time. Techno in bed, dead to the world. Tommy perched on an emerald block, staring at their brother with intensity, something dark and inscrutable flashing in his eyes. Wilbur wonders at the wisdom of leaving Tommy alone here. There is bad blood between them. Bad blood, despite what Techno just did. And it hurts a bit, having to consider things like this, having to consider the likelihood of his brothers trying to murder each other if they’re left alone together,

(and it is partially his fault, he knows, one more thing to add to the list, the pit looming large in his memories)

but there’s nothing for it now. If he brings his concerns up, Tommy will just buckle down further, his pride rearing up. So Wilbur follows Phil and Ranboo down the ladder, and tries to think positively.

It’s difficult. He’s out of practice at it.

“Alright,” Phil says, and once again, Wilbur is struck by how old he looks, how worn down. “Suppose I’ll show you two the stronghold, then.”

A beat passes.

“The what—”

[aria-chicken-flugget]

Disney World with The Brothers (+ Undateables)

HCs that no one asked for, i’m just self indulgent✨

Link to Undateables post

*Based on Disney World Orlando Resort*

The Brothers

Lucifer 🔥

The Mom TM

Has a fanny pack with all the tickets

Made a detailed itinerary of where each of you will go when, with whom and for how long

“Our scheduled break’s not for another 10 minutes”

Says he doesn’t need to go on the rides/ doesn’t enjoy it etc

Squealing inside at how much fun he’s actually having

“Wha - is Diavolo going on that train again?”

He literally wouldn’t even go to the parks if he didn’t enjoy it, wouldn’t see the point

“I’m busy enough as it is at home do you think I need this on top?”

This Sadist TM would force people on the rides they didn’t want to ride because It IS iN THe iTinERaRy

Would jam pack the days to get the full experience, wearing most out

But you request a rest day to which he’ll oblige

“Ugh why are we going here -“ “Because MC requested it, complain again and i’ll tear your ticket.”

Tears up when it’s the last night/ fireworks display

“MC, this was a rather fun idea. If you’d like to come again don’t hesitate to ask, i’ll take you.”

Mammon 💵

Goes against everything The Mom TM has worked in the itenerary, but is quickly stopped

Easily distracted and stops in the middle of walking to an attraction.

“Hey don’t stop in the sidewalk, genius.”

Literally bounces with excitement around the parks but blushes furiously when it’s pointed out by the brothers

“Oi quit that, I don’ know what ya talkin’ about”

Would sour real fast when having to queue, getting caught by The Mom when trying to cut the queue

“Why do we have to queue, huh? This better be worth it”

It is

Has the most expressive/funniest ride photographs

“Mammon that ride wasn’t that scary -“ “Who says i was scared, huh? I was making MC feel better about being scared...” Blush

Would push the other brothers out the way if they tried to sit with you on a ride

“But it’s my turn -“ “your turn my ass, that’s MY HUMAN”

Would sour when your attention is divided by the fireworks and him

Soon perks up when you ask to explore the park together and run around like kids at night

Is probably the most fun at this time as there’s not much queing when it gets late so he’ll grab your hand and take you everywhere

Levi 👾

Woooooooaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!!

“This is like FINAL BOSS level cool! It’s almost worth being outside.”

The Vlogger TM

Literally documents anything and everything. Even when Beel’s eating a snack- makes it sound like the coolest adventure which it is

“Why are we going to THAT attraction? It’s the literal worst on all the reviews online.”

Secretly LOVES the attraction, would turn into a tomato when called out, fiercly denies it

“Y-you wanna ride with me? Uhhh ok, i guess... no no wait!”

Gets you two matching Mickey ears, along with any and all the possible merch

“In TSL, Henry went to an amusement park with all the Prince’s brothers and they had the best time and it was all Henry’s plan to help them get along and it worked, making their journey more -“ *Belphie Snores*

Looks for hidden Mickeys with you after he bought the book on them, as recommended online

*starts vlog* “Day Three and MC and I are yet to find the elusive hidden Mickeys -“

Can only really last til early afternoon before the heat/ social interaction gets too much for him and he may need to go

Recovers lightning fast when he sees you having fun with his brothers without him whilst he was taking a break

Snatches your hand to take you elsewhere, where d’you wanna go? What d’yo wanna do? Name it and he’ll do it lol Envyyy

Everyone is grateful for his vlogging by the end of the holiday, as it meant you all got to watch it back fondly when it was over

Satan 📚

Unlike Mammon, he successfully escapes The Mom and the itinerary when he wants to

However if you wanted him to stick around, he’d blush, “Alright, just for a while.”

Has a subdued smile on his face, enjoying it much more than he anticipated he would

Smiles widley at the parades, mainly because your smile was so bright as you watched

If he saw you eyeing up a giant Disney Balloon he would buy it, ignoring any protestations

Would back up any discourse over the itinerary just to mess with The Mom

“Perhaps the itinerary is not as ‘well thought out’ as you’d anticipated.”

Would begrudgingly play along with your waiting games whilst queing, secretly loving your company

Would be the one with the maps, and wouldn’t give one to Lucifer lol

Though somewhat gimmicky in his opinion, he’d deeply enjoy the Around the World showcase

Would last longer than anyone expected and would want to see the parks at night

“MC would you like to join me?”

Whilst taking your hand to explore the park’s atmosphere at night

LOVES the Haunted Mansion ride and the way you cling to his sleeve when riding with him

Asmodeus 💋

“Don’t forget to put on sunscreen! Protect your skin 💕”

Whilst Lucifer has a practical, generic fanny pack - Asmo’s is psychedelic and glittery

Packs lip balm, antibacterial gel and a mini fan

Serves all the Best Looks TM each day and takes amazing photos of everyone, with everyone

“Oh no, honey. It’s gonna be hot today you’ll want to wear something lighter like cotton or linen.”

Would whine when he starts to get sweaty around the parks

Would peck your cheek when you suggest a bathroom break to freshen up

LOVES the around the world showcase. All the people, all the culture all the music and colours!

Unsurprisingly, isn’t a fan of rollercoasters as it messes up his hair

Would buy you the cutest souvenir and gets matching bracelets with a small, sophisticated silver Mickey charm on each

Would spend lunch with you, checking on you ensuring your keeping your water up etc and feed you

Also intrigued by the parks at night but would be more interested in getting a good night’s sleep for his skin

However if you asked/wanted time in the parks at night he’d find a secluded area to watch the fireworks with an arm around your waist

Beelzebub 🍔

Would give you piggy back rides when you get tired

“When’s lunch?” “We just got here, Beel...”

Would wrap you in a bear hug if you packed snacks for him

*munch* *munch* “Do you want that? - thanks!” *munch*

Would stop at all the food stalls. Every. Single. One - “ThIS iSn’T iN ThE iTiNeRaRY”

“Here MC, try this! This looks good too, do you want one?”

Would help carry people’s belongings

Wouldn’t notice you put Mickey ears on him until he looked at the photos later

Would notice you eyeing up a parade and when you kept quiet as not to disrupt the itinerary, would speak up

If it doesnt go your way, he’ll sneak away with you “Then we’ll go see it together.” Puppy eyed smile

“Beel we gotta get in the queue or we won’t make the line in time!” “Just a second -“ *munch* *munch*

Wouldn’t mind if you wanted to ride with others, but would eventually get sour if you weren’t with him at all

Would hold your hand around the parks with one hand and eat ice cream with the other

Would put you on his shoulders so you could see the fireworks better

He LOVES the fireworks and wonders what they’d taste like “Beel, no.” “:(“

“Someone’s having fun, i’m glad!”

Carries you over one shoulder and a sleeping Belphie over the other

“I - want to come here again... with you.” Blush

Belphegor 😴

Much like Satan, Belphie would deliberately go against the Itinerary with success, and would take you and Beel with him

Would make everyone late to the park by sleeping in

If you wanted everyone to stick together, you’d convince him with a promise to let him nap on your lap later

Would say he hates being there and would actually hate being there

For the most part... what coaxes him is seeing how happy you are, and Beel being happy too

“Belphie, look how cool this ride is! Wanna go?” ‘Begrudgingly’ agrees with a smirk

Would fall asleep at lunch and would have to be slapped shaken awake

Hell would freeze over before he admitted to it... but he started to have a good time

Starts to get more involved if you hold his hand and encourage him, a small smile on his lips

LOVES Tower of Terror and any boat ride - he can fall asleep on the boat rides

He HATES the water rides but having convinced Lucifer on one under false pretences, his expression makes it worth it lol

That one Joker TM that ‘pretends’ to be asleep in any rollercoaster attraction photograph

Some times he is actually asleep in those photos, but no one knows which ones are real or fake

Doesn’t mind queues because it gives him time to chill and nap

Falls asleep on your shoulder at the fireworks

I will do the Undateables in a follow up Post! Might edit this one but have them for now because I hope they make you smile! ✨

[trillian-anders]

first blood

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

warnings:  angst, general asshole-ness.

word count: 4.6k  

description: part 3 of 5. how did you become ransom’s glorified babysitter? and why the fuck are you keeping this job? who knows. you hate it, you hate him, but... the money. 

note: tumblr is being super shitty rn so I can only post on mobile, but I really wanted to get this off my desk! will add a read more and properly link later 💕

prequel to the assistant && four christmases, spoiler free loves. 

You have to do this.

You have to do this.

You have to do this.

You don’t think your eyes will ever feel normal again. They were dry and scratchy. There were no more tears to shed. You’d buried your Mom two months ago, but you didn’t know how it would ever feel okay. She did everything for you and Julia. Everything. She worked hard, made pretty good money, allowed you to have a part time job and just focus on school. Julia was in this really nice private school, she played the cello now for fucks sake. She had friends and was talking about maybe starting soccer soon, but after funeral costs and your sister’s tuition the life insurance money was running out.

You had to sell the house.

You’d moved the two of you into a small apartment right outside of Chinatown. Not the safest area, but not the most unsafe either. You’d be fine. You had each other, and she needed you to do this. You had to do this.

For her.

You sat uncomfortably in the cheap office chair, sitting across from a woman with too many papers on her desk, everything sloppily arranged around a couple of potted succulents and a framed picture of her and her three kids, no spouse.

“So your last job was in tutoring?” She asked you. You shifted nervously in your seat, nodding your head,

“Yeah, I tutored a high school student in English and Math.” You needed some water. The cheap pencil skirt and blouse you were wearing made your skin itch. She types into her computer some more.

“So why are you here?” She asked, “Why not continue tutoring?” A few more clicks and then more typing.

“The family I worked for paid me pretty well,” You admitted, “But she’s graduating this year and they didn’t need me anymore, I don’t really,” You cleared your throat, “I don’t really have much job experience outside of that and I need to start making money now… I’ve put out job applications but haven’t really gotten any luck.” Not with the income you needed anyway. The woman nodded. The plaque on her desk said her name is Stacy Chandler.

“Alright, here you are.” A printed page, address, date, and time. A job. Clerical work. Data entry. You have to do this...

-

“How was your last day of school?” Julia sat heavily at the kitchen table, backpack slumped on the floor next to her. She buried her face in her arms.

“I’m never going again.” Came muffled from her mouth. She lifted her head to look at you. The beginnings of puberty. You’d recently gone bra shopping for the first time. Real ones, no more training bras. You’d recently taken her to the dermatologist for her acne, but she’s not good at remembering to put on the expensive creams you bought. What a hard time. You don’t envy her.

“Luckily for you,” You smiled, placing a fudgy brownie in front of her, “You don’t have to go back for three whole months!” She rolled her eyes heavily, taking the brownie and disappearing into her room presumably to sit on her computer until dinner.

She was feeling the absence of your Mother just as you were. You weren’t sure what to do here. You loved your sister and you know she loves you too, but in the last few months it’s just been closed doors and a few parting sentences. Only because you had to work so much. Only because she spent a lot of time at friend’s houses where you’d think she would feel normal for a while. It would help ease the burden of being in your mid-twenties and suddenly feeling like a single mother. Of course you can sleep over at Mila’s house, her family is going to their cabin for the weekend of course you can go!

You didn’t know what to do other than keeping her in school and alive. You weren’t ready for this. But the only other option was your estranged aunt who reeked of mothballs and was constantly asking you if you were married, or dating, or ‘You’re Mother wouldn’t have wanted this’. No. It was very clear that your Mom wanted the two of you to stay together, and that’s how it’s going to be.

This summer she was going to spend with her friend Mila at their family’s lake house. Mila’s mother was a stay at home mom with six kids under the age of 12 and would be planning to spend the summer pintresting activities and projects with them while simultaneously getting out of her stuffy-old 10 bedroom, 8 bathroom mansion. Lucky her. Lucky Julia.

The apartment would be empty without the 12-year-old pre-teen for three months, but Julia has really been looking forward to it. Her bags were packed and ready by the door.

You hugged her tightly in front of Mila’s house, burying your face in her hair, partially not wanting her to go, but otherwise knowing that she’s going to have a better time than you could ever provide her. “Okay, you can let me go now.” She shifted in your arms, trying to pull away.

“Just another minute.” You mumbled, pulling her in tighter. “I’m gonna miss you.” She laughed,

“I’m gonna miss you too.” The two of you pulled apart and you tucked her hair behind her ears, cupping her sweet face.

“I love you,” You said very seriously, “If you ever want to come home just-”

“I’ll let you know.” She was getting impatient, the car Mila’s mom was taking to the lake house, a beautifully large black Range Rover sat packed next to you, they were waiting. “I love you too.” She slowly backed away towards the car.

“If she gets homesick, my husband still comes back every week for work so he can bring her home if need be,” Andrea was her name, Mila’s Mom. “She’ll be fine.” Andy was really nice. She made a lot of the food the two of you had eaten in the early days after your Mom’s death. Her gentle reassurance soothed you slightly. It made driving away a little easier, but it didn’t stop the tears that fell as you entered your apartment, alone. For the first time in a while. You didn’t have to hold it in anymore.

You sunk down against your front door, staring out into your living room, tears rolling down your cheeks in the silence of the home. Dirty shoes lined up against the wall, throw blanket hanging halfway off the couch, dirty dishes from breakfast still in the sink, and somewhere you’re sure under all of it was the will to pick yourself back up.

You just didn’t know if you were ready for that quite yet.

But you did it anyway.

More clerical work. More data entry. More bills going half paid and others being ignored all together. Student loans you didn’t even want to think about from a school where you hadn’t even graduated. Medical bills you didn’t even know where to begin paying back, itchy stockings, and uncomfortable shoes. With every day that passed you reexamined your life. How did you get here?

A new job, a new office. Temp assigned, but you knew who worked here. The building that housed it stood tall against the Boston skyline. Contemporary. You sat comfortably in a cushy office chair. The plaque on the desk read Linda Drysdale, CEO. And you waited.

You hadn’t seen the Thrombey’s, let alone the Drysdale branch of the family, for five months. Zero contact. Joni had talked to you last, thanking you for helping Meg, but also trying to sell you eye cream. “You really should invest in taking better care of yourself.” Which was her kind way of trying to tell you that you look old. Thanks.

You couldn’t imagine what Linda would want you for. You’d been doing some filing, they were transferring all of their documents to digital and hired extra help to do so, you were one of three hired from your particular temp agency, but yesterday she had called you personally and asked you to come in for an appointment today at 3 pm. And here you are.

Waiting.

There was a portrait of her family on the wall. Linda herself sitting in a high backed intricate chair, her husband Richard standing to her right, and to her left was her son, Hugh. He went by his middle name Ransom. They were stone faced, serious looking. This painting seemed ridiculous. If you didn’t know the Thrombey’s you’d think it was there to be ironic, as a joke, a play on what rich families were like.

But they were a rich family, and this is what they were like.

Linda was self-serving. She only ever talked to you when it suited her own interests and as soon as she was satisfied she would quickly direct her attention somewhere else, to someone more important. She used you to get what she wanted and when you served her purpose you were gone. She had no time for anyone, only her father. Anything for Harlan.

Richard was a predator. He was always making an uncomfortable comment about either your body or your face. He stood uncomfortably close at times and liked to settle a hand on the small of your back. He was a well kept man, throwing his wife’s money around like it was his own. He kept a money clip of hundreds in his pocket.

Ransom was a piece of shit. He was a self-centered egotistical asshole who was sure to make your life a living hell every time he saw you. There was always a comment, a jab at your clothes, your hair, the fact that you are poor. He once ‘accidentally’ threw your cardigan away because, “I thought it was one of those fucking rags you dust with, I didn’t want it touching my burberry.” He, like his father, felt predatory. Something about being a rich white man just really got them going, and the money clip with the hundreds… a learned habit.

“Alright,” Linda’s voice came from the doorway, you turned slightly in your seat. She was on the phone, “Well we will send Michael out to show them the properties instead, I’m sure we’ll find something they like.” She gave you a finger, hold on, even though you’d been sitting here patiently waiting for her for close to twenty minutes now. “Okay,” She continued, “Sounds good.” Sitting down in her chair, tapping a few keys to illuminate her computer screen. “Alright now, bye-bye.” She took her phone from her ear, looking down at the screen before placing it face down on the desk and smiling at you.

You knew that smile. She wanted something.

“So, Y/N right?” You nodded, “I see you’re looking for work.”

“Well, I’m with a temp agency right now but-”

“Would you like something a little more permanent?” A permanent job? The Thrombey’s had paid you very well to tutor Meg, better than you were making now. Granted you had only worked 15 hours a week when you were tutoring her, so $20 an hour didn’t seem like that big of a deal, but if they were looking for something, anything full time…

“Absolutely,” You smiled, shifting in your seat, “I’ve had trouble being hired because my-”

“Okay so you’re going to need Ransom’s number, and you’ll start tomorrow.” Your smile dropped.

“Ransom needs a tutor?” You asked skeptically. She laughed.

“No, he needs an assistant.” She gestured towards herself, “I can’t keep telling him when or where to be for family events and he has a fairly active social life so I’m gifting him an assistant for his birthday.” Oh.

“I uhm,” You really didn’t want to work for Ransom. You REALLY didn’t want to work for Ransom. “How much would it…?” You trailed off nervously.

“My father paid you $20 an hour to tutor Meg, yes?” She asked, typing something into her computer, no longer looking at you.

“Yes, he did.” You moved trying to see what she was typing without bringing too much attention to it. She was drafting an email.

“So I’ll pay you the same. Ransom will set hours for you and decide what days of the week he’ll need you and what else he wants you to do,” She waved her hand dismissively, “Cleaning, cooking, whatever.” She scribbled on a post-it before peeling and handing it to you. “Here’s his number and address, you can go over the particulars of your job tomorrow morning.” You opened your mouth to speak again, ask her the million and one questions you have but before you could say anything she dismissed you, “That is all.” She said. And she was done with you.

She got what she wanted. And now she wanted you to leave.

So you did.

“Well,” He grinned, “Linda really scooped you up from the bottom of the barrel, huh?” You stood on Ransom’s front porch. The only texts you sent and received last night were ‘What time do you need me to be there?’ and an hour later the reply of ‘11’. The scumbag was standing in the doorway, leant against the frame, looking down on you. In more than one way.

“Can I come in?” You asked. You really didn’t want to do this. But a $12 an hour temp job versus $20 hour stability… hard to beat. He smirked, pushing off the frame before looking you up and down, turning to disappear into the house.

“Take off your shoes.” What a fucking joke. His house was a mess. Clothes thrown haphazardly around, a pile of dishes not in the sink, but on the counter. Abandoned cups, tv was rolling on in the background, some political documentary. The house, while contemporary and clean, well kept on the outside. The inside looked like a frat house during rush week. You didn’t want to take off your shoes in fear that you’d step in vomit or something worse.

He grinned off to the side, “Had some people over last night.” He explained, drinking what looked like orange juice from a coffee mug. The vodka bottle that was capless on the counter led you to believe that orange juice wasn’t the only thing in the cup. “You can start by cleaning up.” He gestured around, sinking back down into the sofa. “I’m sure I’ll think of something else you can do when you’re done.” The fucking prick.

You shut the door a little heavier than intended, slipping your sneakers off and placing them by the door. “You’ve got a laundry room?” You asked, he didn’t look away from the television,

“Basement.” And he was done with you too. The tone was very, don’t talk to me. Which honestly you were grateful for.

You cleaned up his messes, the red solo cups that littered almost every surface in every room, laundry was running in the basement, dishwasher working hard to sanitize the first round of plates and cups that could fit, the others waiting patiently in the sink as you wipe counters and dusted picture frames, the thick film of unappreciation. He didn’t care about his house, his furniture, the art that cost more than your apartment that lined his walls. His clothes, while having an extensive closet, some were threadbare and with holes.

He didn’t care.

And it made you angry.

You thought of the furniture you were able to keep from your Mother’s house, well oiled and kept. No scratches. The fabrics of the couches and chairs carefully cleaned and maintained.

His sheets were stained and you were unsure when the last time he had washed them actually was. The dampness made you gag. It wasn’t long before you were cleaning under his feet. His ankles crossed and feet resting on the coffee table as you straightened the area around him. You felt his eyes on you, briefly, but ignored it.

“Do you have any real clothes?” He asked suddenly. He stood from the sofa, rounding it to pull the vodka bottle back out from the cabinet you’d placed it in, pouring heavily into the coffee mug before leaving the bottle and the orange juice carton he followed with next to it.

“These are real clothes.” You stated, coming behind him to put the items away. He scoffed,

“I’m important,” He claimed, “I go to parties, events.” He took a large mouthful of the screwdriver he’d just made, “You can’t wear clothes like that if you’re gonna be babysitting me the whole time.” You rolled your eyes,

“I don’t have to go. You set my hours, I don’t-”

“As much as I love the whole, ‘I’m poor and don’t care what I look like’, thing you have going on,” Ransom laughed, “You’re gonna be around me, and as a reflection of me, you need to look presentable.” He gestured to the demin shorts a t-shirt you were currently wearing, mismatched socks on your feet. You felt your face flush. “And slap a little makeup on.” You rolled your eyes at that. Fucking dick. He smirked when you didn’t reply, turning back around to leave you and disappeared upstairs.

He didn’t come down for a while. In that time you’d finished cleaning the living area, the house looking a complete 180 from where it had been when you’d originally entered, it was nearing dinner time. Your stomach was growling and you’d realized you had been cleaning for five hours without stopping.

You didn’t get to enjoy the sense of accomplishment because Ransom came down the stairs not a moment later, dressed for his evening. If you didn’t hate him so much you’d drool. He looked good. Patterned slacks, chelsea boots, a lightweight white button down, blazer over one arm. “Let’s go.” He said, not stopping on his way towards the front door.

“Where are we going?” You felt gross, covered in grime from cleaning, sweat dried on your skin you knew you probably didn’t smell amazing, hair frizzed up in a bun. He didn’t answer you, continuing outside. You sighed heavily, throwing the pair of socks you’d just matched back into the laundry basket before slipping your shoes on and following him outside.

“C’mon!” He yelled from the front seat of his beamer, sunglasses on his nose, he was annoyed with you. Whatever. You sat heavily in his passenger seat, the dickwad not even giving you time to close the door before he was speeding down the driveway.

“Where are we going?” You asked again. One hand on the wheel, the other’s fingertips brushing against his lower lip he looked at you from behind his sunglasses.

“To dinner.” He smirked, looking back towards the road as you merged onto the interstate.

He was a fucking asshole. If you hadn’t thought he was before you definitely knew now. You were surprised the hostess even let you into this place. It was expensive, and you were very, very underdressed. Point taken Ransom. Thank you. Fucking prick.

He took glances at you ever so often, seated a few feet away from him at the long banquet style table that housed all of his ‘friends.’ Gorgeous women and equally as gorgeous men who had money to burn. You weren’t sure any of these people have ever worked a day in their life, much like Ransom himself. You’d met a few of them before, briefly, when Ransom would show up and ask Harlan for money before disappearing for a week, one or two of them would be in tow bragging about going on some guy’s yacht or flying out to some private island.

Regardless, they weren’t talking to you. You were a strange interloper, easily ignored, but only after a few poked fun at the stray dog at Ransom’s heels. It only stung a little bit when he laughed with them. You were wildly uncomfortable. You poked at your deconstructed salad, the little bits lined neatly up on the plate, a smear of salad dressing beside it. This menu was ridiculous. Why were you here again? You were so hungry and this was not your speed at all. Ransom’s booming laugh met your ears and you could feel the anger rising in your chest.

Fucking asshole. You hoped he would choke on one of the olives in his martini. His eyes met yours momentarily and he smirked. He fucking smirked, cheersing you with his martini before it met his lips again. You could kill him right now.

The money.

The money.

Technically you were still working. As the sun set behind the horizon. You’d been at work, technically, for about 10 hours. That’s $200. Okay, you can do this. You can do this.

You know he did this to embarass you. He made it clear when you’d pull up to the restaurant to give you a taunting look. Whether the dinner was already planned or he had planned it after the conversation about clothes and makeup earlier was anyone’s guess. You had the feeling it was the latter.

He’d paid the bill after all.

The entirety of it.

You’d wished you’d ordered more.

Afterward a giggling girl took your place in the front seat, you glared at the back of her head from the back seat,

“Ransom.” She whined, leaning over in her seat to press her lips to his neck, “I want you to fuck me.” Lips around his ear, sucking the lobe into her mouth. You shifted your gaze to the window, the city landscape passing your eyes as you’d pulled into another valet parking, a bar this time. A nice one.

Ransom and the bubbly girl from the car ride over slipped hastily into the bathroom, he’d sent you a dark look before leaving you to your own devices. Looking over the cocktail list while sitting uncomfortably on a bar stool while your boss was fucking a girl who’d laughed at you for being a ‘dog’ earlier in the bathroom of a bar that had a $20 old fashioned and their most expensive wine came with a thousand dollar price tag.

“You lost?” Another smirking asshole, sidled up next to you at the bar as you took a sip from the beautifully balanced old fashioned you’d tacked onto Ransom’s tab. He was handsome, the guy bothering you, almost everyone in this room was handsome. The lights low and romantic, candles on every table and across the bar, soft music played from the piano across the room where a man sat gently stroking the melodies to create the ambiance of the room. Close, cozy, romantic, and dark enough to forget yourself in.

“Oh c’mon honey.” The man slipped onto the barstool, thighs spread wide around you as you face away from him, his hand meeting your back. “I can help you find what you’re looking for.” His breath reeked of alcohol. You glanced over at him,

“I’m fine thank you.” Another sip, damn this drink was good. He chuckled, moving in closer, drifting a hand down to your thigh.

“Don’t be like that.” He laughed, “You obviously don’t belong here honey.” His hand traced your bare thigh, “You’ve gotta be wanting some company.”

Ransom had returned face flushed and you could almost see a tiny bit of white on his nose, but it was quickly rubbed away. He sat on the opposite end of the bar, the girl from earlier taking his lap. He looked down at you briefly, he had to have seen how uncomfortable you were, how this guy was breathing down your neck. He ignored it, ordering a drink from the bartender.

“I don’t want any company,” You shoved the man’s hand away, “Have a great night.” He leaned back in his seat, downing his drink before leaning back over to put his face in yours.

“Fucking ugly bitch.” He spat, standing from the stool, “Tryna give you a little charity here, you could've at least been grateful.” You wanted to leave. He shoved your shoulder slightly as he walked away from you, no doubt going to bother some other unsuspecting woman in his radius.

You needed some air, taking the last sip of your drink you’d scooted back from the bar, walking by Ransom to take your exit, walking out into the summer night. It was early summer. It was still only 60 at night. A chill went through you. You hadn’t expected to be out so late, the comfortable denim shorts and old ratty t shirt you’d chosen to wear had obviously been a mistake for this day. Ransom made sure to make you see that.

The bar was on the harbor, and it brought in a breeze that caused goosebumps to rise on your skin. You checked your phone, the battery almost dead. Julia had been texting you periodically, but not as much as you would have liked. You scrolled through the most recent messages, you asking how her trip was going and what she was up to and her stilted replies. She was busy you supposed. She didn’t need you, but right now you really needed her.

This night has been a massive blow to your self-esteem. You’d never felt more ugly and unwanted in your life. You just wanted to go home, but Ransom wasn’t done yet. You looked at him from the window, his fingers were gone between that girl’s thighs, they were both drinking expensive cocktails, completely oblivious to you.

He’d watched you exit, not giving it much thought it seemed, because he hadn’t made any motion to bring the night to a close, but you weren’t really expecting him to. It was Ransom’s world and you were just living in it. You worked for him. And you wondered if this is how every day is going to be from here on out. You really don’t know if you could do this forever, but you knew you didn’t want to go back inside.

So you didn’t.

Thankfully Ransom stumbled out about thirty minutes later, girl from earlier on his arm. “Let’s go.” He said. Valet pulling the beamer around he threw you the keys, “Take me home.”

He sunk down in the back seat, high and drunk. His words almost incoherent. Her’s were no better. They sloppily attacked each other in the back seat, indecently. And you were pointedly looking anywhere but in the rearview. Soft grunts and moans made you uncomfortable for the fourth time that night. Your skin crawling in unease as the girl’s giggles turned into breathy moans. Your foot sunk against the gas pedal in hopes you’d get back to his home faster, tears welling up in your eyes. The cry on the way home was going to be so good. So cathartic.

The gravel crunching against the wheels of the car was a sweet relief, so was the haste in which you left the keys in the car, running and skipped to your own car. His eyes met yours through the darkness as he was leant up against his car door, slacks loose around his hips, the girl’s lips attached to his neck as her hand worked quickly between his thighs. He smirked, waving a sarcastic ‘good-bye’. You turned your eyes to the road, cranking up the radio as you began to cry.

You didn’t want to do this anymore.

A text came through right as you finally laid down in your own bed, snuggling into the covers, ready to forget the night.

See you at 9.

.

.

.

taglist // @littlechillies @hellizhelusive2 @notbexmader @marvelouspottering @whitequeenasitbgan @Thegraylaway @readermia @i-believe-in-unicorns-and-you @princess-evans-addict @perplexed3001 @Diedrashouseofpain @hailmary-yramliah @sleepycvpid @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @starlywars @gifsbysimplysonia @rocknbasil @imnotelasticheart @wannabegonnie @d1sconnect3d @heyguyz13 @unimomajo @this-is-serenaa @steviemae @bemysugarbean @truefangirlheart @babiiface95 @mydarlingharry @elzzin​ @bookish-shristi​ @saturnki​ @jennmurawski13​ @geeksareunique​

[tundrainafrica]

Title: A Tale of Two Slaves (3/17)

Summary:  “Soulmates don’t exist. Fate doesn’t exist. Everything is a choice.” At that moment, Levi could only watch as she made the choice for him.“

Reincarnation AU. Levi remembers everything from their past life. Hange doesn’t.

Note: This has been sitting on my computer untouched for a while, along with the timeline I prepared for a multichapter fic. Will probs go back to it soon. Feedback is very much appreciated.

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Link to cross-postings: AO3

The forms were so painfully boring, Levi almost regretted agreeing to meet Moblit. One of the few things, if not the only thing, stopping him from backing out of the study then and there, was the hope it could give him an excuse to see her again. He planned to ease himself into the process of meeting her, not wanting to make a complete fool or a complete stalker of himself.

There was the option to ask for her number. The option to ask for her schedule. Or he could maybe just scan through enough pages on google to find some hint as to what the hell she does, where she goes and where he could possibly “accidentally” meet her. The last option had proved ineffective, Levi spent a good few hours a day doing just that. Just in case maybe, the links he found through google do change.

The sheer embarrassment and conflicted feelings that came with having delusion drive his actions, had Levi worse off than before. Although the nightmares that left him in pain in the mornings had become few and far between, he could not help but think that possibly the reason why was because he barely got any sleep anymore, kept awake by his brain trying to process that relationship he had with Hange and the story that was made known to him.

His five hours a night had dwindled into three when classes started. His brain having no time to process the dreams during classes and training, Levi found himself taking up more time lying awake in bed, building the world his dreams were telling him about and how Hange fit into all of it.    

The lack of sleep caught up to him particularly when he was sifting through the pages of waivers and information sheets in the coffee shop near campus at nine in the morning. The words started to blur into blobs and Levi became aware of how much he hated Calibri as a font, a small issue in the grand scheme of things. Lacking sleep and utterly frustrated at his lack of progress though, Levi was finding many reasons not to read them.

He eventually gave up, instead checking box after box after box. “When do you need this?” Levi asked Moblit who sat in front of him.

“As soon as possible… But I really recommend you read ---”

“Well, how much time are you gonna give me to read?”

“I don’t have any classes today so I’m pretty much free the whole day.”

“Same.” He felt the venom in his tone particularly resonate and a part of him regretted it as he said it. That day was particularly special. He had no class. With their coach out on a meeting with other schools to discuss the tournaments and line ups this year, he had given the players a day off. Levi pretty much had that whole day to himself yet, he still went to the trouble of dressing up just to meet Moblit only to find out he’d be going through pages worth of documents while half awake. “I’ll just get a cup of coffee.”

Levi was already halfway out of seat when Moblit took out his wallet.  

“Let me pay for it.” Moblit handed Levi a few bills. He had an apologetic look on his face as if he did understand the inconvenience the study would cause anyone. The look Moblit gave him suddenly made Levi self conscious about the tone he had been answering Moblit with since a while ago.

Levi took the money with a small nod of thanks. It was free coffee after all and he did not have much leeway given his monthly allowance.

When Levi got back to their table black coffee in one hand, he could see that Moblit had reorganized the papers, the uncompleted page sitting neatly on top. He had also opened the sandwich he had bought half an hour ago and was eating it already

“Before I forget, did you bring Hange’s keychain?” Moblit asked in between bites.

“Ah, I forgot about that.” Levi kept his tone emotionless for fear of having his guilt take over him. In fact, he never did forget about the keychain. It sat on the side table next to his bed, a glimmer of hope that that morning in the track wouldn't be the last time he saw her.

“Maybe I could come back to your dorm with you and get it after this?”

“Oh yeah, I forgot. I’m not going straight to the dorm. I have plans after this.” A blatant lie. Levi rarely forgot plans.

“Really?”

Levi made a show of going through his phone as he sat down. “Sorry, I didn’t check my calendar this morning. It looks like I have to work on my own stuff for my thesis with my groupmates.” Seniors did not have as many classes as lowerclassmen so the excuse for classes probably would not have worked. As Levi also was aware, the weight of the responsibility lost by only having two classes a week was replaced with the weight of the expectation of creating their own research to add to the body of knowledge in their major.

“How long is your meeting? Maybe I could stop by...” Moblit looked unsure about his own suggestion as if he too understood too the importance of thesis for any senior.

“I dunno. It’s our first meeting and it’s pretty important since we still don’t have much planned.” At that moment, Levi thanked the heavens for his course. He was taking an interdisciplinary track so people had the option to do their thesis by group or individually. His choice of his classes had made it so that he had to do his thesis individually. Moblit did not need to know that much though.

The magic word “thesis” eventually did work in the conversation between the two seniors and finally, Moblit had dropped his shoulders in defeat. “Sorry if I’m being a little pushy. I guess that keychain is just pretty important to me too. I was the one who gave it to her.”  

Levi studied the face of Moblit as they talked. Molit did not have the most memorable face so Levi had not figured it out at first glance. As he allowed himself a few seconds to focus on his features and match it to those in his dream, he realized that Moblit was the same soldier who was constantly following Hange in his dreams. “You two must be close,” Levi said. Hange and I were close too.

"We're childhood friends.”

Levi found himself envying Moblit’s place in Hange’s life. Not wanting to engage that thought though, he instead decided to digress into something more positive for him. “So you'd know why she seemed pretty enthusiastic about her thesis.”

“She’s just passionate and gets a little too excited at times.” Moblit gave an embarrassed smile from what could have been second hand embarrassment. “I really hope you didn’t end up hating her. She really wanted to get to know you.”

“Oh really?” Then why doesn’t she. Levi added to himself.

“She’s been studying athletes since we were in high school. One of our friends was actually the subject of our final thesis for high school and Hange won best research with her. She wanted to move on to studying more high level athletes and she was talking non stop about the possibility of working with an athlete here. Then when we were scouting around for athletes to possibly study, she started showing me a lot of videos of you. She could talk non stop about your form, the height you achieved, your body control. I guess that was until you guys ended up meeting...” Moblit looked like he was aware of the weight of that statement and had tried to lighten the mood with a light laugh.

Levi rearranged that last sentence in his head. Until she met me.

Moblit had trailed off from there and Levi wondered how what kind of face he was making for Moblit to realize he had felt guilty about it.

Moblit gave Levi a consoling look. “She seems to be progressing well with Elijah though.”

For a second, Levi could not fathom how Moblit got the idea that that sentence could console him. In fact, just knowing that Hange had gotten over him so fast, had his chest knotting up.

On the outside though, he made sure to raise his eyebrows and nod, to look at least a little surprised and interested. “How’s her research so far?”

Moblit shook his head in amazement. “She's working at a much faster pace than I am. After what happened with you, it’s pretty admirable she bounced back so fast.”

“I don’t hate her. I could work with her if she really wants to.”

“God, this makes me think I should have started earlier." Moblit rested his forehead on his palm. "Your suggestion might be hard... Last time I checked, she was neck deep in her research with Elijah already.”

Even as a senior, there were places on campus Levi had never visited. All of his classes were clustered in one small area of the campus.  The track he would rush to train in would be just a five minute walk away, his dorm a fifteen minute walk or a five minute bike.

He never had any reason to visit the other side which housed the science students and the laboratories. Possibly, one of the reasons why he had never met Hange until that day in the track.

It was a ten minute walk from his dormitory, in a completely different direction from his buildings and the track. He decided to abandon his bike for the more flexible option of walking. He did not know if they had have any place to park a bike nor how long he would be there. More importantly, he wanted the freedom of slowing his pace without considering the traffic as he took in the unfamiliar scenery.

Third floor. Fritz Hall.

In fact, he did not need the directions to the biology department. He could have easily asked anyone among the students there. The more important information was the room number and the laboratory name.

He clutched the keychain in his pocket and  took the stairs two at a time arriving into a narrow corridor that stretched into both directions.

Thesis labs. Or that was how Mobilit described them. Each biology professor managed a laboratory for students. There were those who focused on internal medicine, those who focused on epidemiology. In each of those rooms was an office and a lab for senior students doing research under the guidance of a professor of a similar specialty.

If he wanted to find Hange, the office was their best chance. Room 301. It would be at one of the ends of the corridors. He only had to figure out the order of the numbers and from there, walk towards the end of the hall. He gripped the handle of the door and pushed it down, only pushing slightly at the door to open a crack wide enough to peek in.

“May I help you?”

“You’re Erwin Smith…” Just like with Hange, Levi had quickly picked up the name as he saw him.

“Yes I am. Nice to meet you.” Erwin did not look surprised to see that someone had named him by face. That was enough of a hint for Levi to realize that that man was probably their professor on top of how he dressed and how he carried himself.

“I’m looking for Hange Zoe.” Levi decided at that moment not to lie. He was sure he could find a reason to justify wanting to give it directly to Hange. He did not want to consider it at that moment. He just wanted to see her.

“She has class now but you can wait for her inside the lab." He gave Levi a onceover. You must be Elijah then.”

Levi gave a subtle nod, hoping Erwin would at least not take that as a full yes later on. At that point in time, he just wanted to minimize the questions he might need to answer. HIs heart was beating hard and his mind was racing. He had gone behind Moblit’s back, taking note of the schedule shared to him and picking a time where Moblit would not be in the office. Pretense and lies were nothing new to Levi but the presence of Erwin in the room particularly made Levi feel dirty for going through all that just to meet one person. With Erwin in front of him, for the first time he felt guilty lying.

"It's obvious from your build that you've been jumping and running your whole life. I hope you could give Hange some good data. All she’s been talking about was this study since I agreed to take her in."

“What’s her research about?” Was she enjoying working with Elijah so far? Was she happy? There were too many things Levi had wanted to ask but he found himself treading along the narrow path of things only Elijah would have known.

Erwin looked at him questioningly. “She wants to do a case study. I expected she’d at least tell you that much.” He shook his head and smiled. “She always had trouble explaining science jargon to the average person.”

Levi wanted to kick himself. Erwin at least answered his own question on any suspicion he might have about Levi (or Elijah.)

“Elijah, do me a favor and ask her yourself. I’d rather Hange also learned how to communicate science to the average person.” Erwin tapped Levi on the shoulder. “Make yourself at home. NIfa’s in the laboratory right now so she can keep you company. You can also use the computer while waiting.”

Levi only noticed the book bag Erwin was holding to his side as he looked back at him. He could not help but feel a bout of disappointment as he saw the professor walk away. It felt like there was still a lot to learn from him.

Levi entered the laboratory to find a woman with auburn hair hunched over a microscope. “Where’s Erwin going?” He asked.

“Erwin?” Nifa looked up from her  “Doctor Smith you mean?”

Nifa. That’s her name. Oddly, Levi did not need to ask for her name either.

Nifa only confirmed it a second later after chastising him for calling Erwin his first name. ‘Doctor Smith did not roll out of Levi’s tongue as well as Erwin. The most Levi could hope for was he never faced a situation where he had to call him by name again. A long shot if he ended up working with Hange or Moblit. At the same time, a worry he did not want to occupy himself with again.

“Hange’s class ends at two so you’re gonna have to wait an extra thirty minutes. You can use the computer over there to pass the time.”

Levi looked down at his phone to see only one bar on the upper right.

“Yeah, problems about being stationed at the corner of the building. No signal. And the wifi is only strong enough for a laptop.” Nifa gestured at her own laptop next to the microscope.

Levi walked towards the computer. It was an older model but it looked well loved. He only had to click on his mouse for the screen to boot up to the home screen with some desktop background which looked like some campaign for underprivileged kids and untapped potentials.

He clicked on the google chrome icon. The option to restore pages from a previous session popped up. He had considered completely ignoring it but he considered it might be someone’s precious browsing history and instead decided to leave it on and to just open an incognito instead for his own personal browsing

He was ready to open one up when he saw the tabs that had opened up in front of him.

Ackerman bags gold, Miller silver in the Collegiate Cup.

Levi looked to the profile on the right to see that it was Hange’s Google profile logged into the account. She was researching him?

That small glimmer of what could have been happiness dissipated as soon as Levi figured out the pattern of the articles.

It wasn’t about him.

High Jump Superstar Miller breaks record in high school meet.

Miller commits to Paradis University.

College sophomore Miller bags gold in Horizontal Jump Event.

It was torture looking through the multiple tabs that reopened. As painful as it was, he still  wanted to confirm if Hange really was ‘neck deep’ in her research. The bookmarked pages, he also decided to take a peek at had confirmed his fear. There were fifty if not a hundred tabs with article titles mentioning that one athlete.

Levi found himself closing the tabs as he went through them, a small rebellion to the reality in front of him. Hange probably bookmarked them if she needed them anyway. He stopped as he came across a Youtube video towards the end of the string of tabs.

WATCH: College Junior Ackerman beats both personal and national record for the High Jump Category.

Rookie Ackerman bags gold in the Regional Cup with record breaking height.

Levi recognized those tournaments. Those were his best jumps, one of them the most recent one he had performed, only earlier that year.

Watching the videos with the commentary felt surreal. In the interviews, he was the one answering the questions but somehow, Levi felt like he was still learning something new from the version of himself of the screen. He never did pay too much attention during interviews, only asking the questions when asked in the manner Coach Greg had directed him too.

Not wanting to confuse himself any longer with what seemed like another out of body experience, he focused again on Hange’s Gmail account which was logged into Youtube. Just to make sure his conclusion had been real. She was still watching his videos.

She had committed to working with Elijah. Why?  

“Miller was slated to be the new superstar in Paradis University with a vertical jump of 8 centimeters  and a promising record height differential of 40 centimeters.”

Levi jumped as he heard someone talk behind him. How long has she been there? It was her voice. Yet at the same time, it was too uncharacteristically serious he did not want to believe it was her. As Levi slowly looked behind me, she only continued to talk.

“But then four years ago, Coach Gregory Rivers scouts a new kid from a small town five hours away from the city. The kid had potential. Enough potential to maybe play backup to Elijah Miller. Levi Ackerman with a vertical leap of 76 centimeters and a record height differential of 37 centimeters.”

“Elijah Miller had a higher overall record. Mike Zacharias and Nanaba Briete too." Mike Zacharias and Nanaba Briete . Those were the two athletes who had cooperated with Hange's study back in high school. Levi had made sure to read her old research, in case he would have to use them to convince her to reconsider him.

“Your numbers in high school weren’t groundbreaking. Unless we consider that you’re 157 centimeters tall." The wonder was back in her voice, completely replacing what he realized was the scientist in her talking. "You did not have the height but you had remarkable control, the core strength, the leg power and the flexibility to fly over the bar even when you’re so close to it. That was what Gregory Rivers saw in you when he scouted you for Paradis University. What he didn't expect was for you to outshine Miller or even the seniors."

Hange came up behind him and grabbed the mouse. As Levi watched her go through the bookmarks, he realized if he had scrolled further, he would have seen more bookmarks.

Rookie Ackerman bags gold in the Regional Cup.

Super rookie carries Paradis to nationals.

She clicked one of the bookmarks and played the the video that came up. Levi could only watch silently as the Levi on the screen ran towards the bar, and propelled himself through the air. His vertical was definitely much higher than 37 centimeters at that point. In college though, no one in his team was counting anymore. The importance was he got through every jump without ever touching the bar.

"I wanna know Levi. From a nobody from a no name school, how did your height differential increase twofold. More importantly, how is it that you've not failed a single jump since you entered university? It's amazing. The amount of balance, core strength and body control to keep your body flexible enough not to hit the bar. The amount of leg strength needed to jump that high. You really must be superhuman.”

“I’m not.” Regretfully, Levi’s denial was enough for Hange to snap out of her state of what seemed like euphoria.

Hange put her hand to her mouth. "Sorry, I talked too much." With that, she resisted the closeness and was once again a meter away just standing awkwardly behind him. "I guess I should go back to work. Did Moblit tell you what time he'll be coming?"

"Moblit's not coming today."

"Oh... Can I help you with something?" Once again, Hange was watching her words and her movements with him. That was not the Hange from his dreams. The Hange that had introduced herself the first time they had met on the track. It pained Levi to see her like that and he wanted to make it right.

Levi had prepared himself for possible interactions when he read through Hange's old works. At that moment, Levi took control of his feelings. " I came here because I wanted to ask if you'd be willing to consider." He kept his words as careful as Hange's were with him. "I read your case study on Nanaba Briete and Mike Zacharius. And I thought I could probably provide you with similar data, maybe better data. Let me jump for you."

"Levi…"

"No. I wanna jump for you." Levi did not know what Hange had planned to say. At that point, he did not want to give her any doubts to build on.

This time I'm not going to lose you. A voice inside him said. It disappeared soon after and Levi wondered when he had he lost her.

[what-is-your-plan-today]

CSI: Rogers and Barnes- The Serious Cereal Serial Killer Ch 13: Cap’N Crunch

Co-Written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Episode Summary: The investigation begins to slot together...with some suprising results.

Episode Warnings: Bad Language words. SMUT (NSFW) NO UNDER 18s!!!!

Episode Pairings:  Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Song for Episode:  The Imitation Game by Alexandre Desplat

A/N: This is a LONG chapter guys, but  the case  is cracked... ooooohhhhhhh!

As always we live for re-blogs and comments  

CSI Rogers and Barnes Master List // Main Masterlist I'd look at one of my stonecutters hammering away at the rock, perhaps a hundred times without as much as a crack showing in it. Yet, at the hundred and first blow it would split in two, and I knew it was not that blow that did it, but all that had gone before. - Jacob  Riis

By the time they had arrived at Pierce’s, the press were already circling like vultures. Steve called Fury on the way to fill him in on what they had found in Stan’s notes and to his surprise the Commander wasn’t as shocked as Steve had expected. Mind you, he had stated to Steve that he suspected a cover up had happened so maybe this was simply cementing his initial suspicions. The Captain drove carefully through the crowd which was being parted by a number of Thor’s officers, before the large blonde himself gave them both a nod, lifting the tape to allow him to steer his car into the inner boundary. They parked up, climbed out and headed up the drive way which led to the double garage at the side of the large house.

Tony, Sam and Bruce were already in the garage along with Bucky and Commander Fury.

“Sir.” Steve nodded to the man, watching in the corner of his eye as Katie approached the car, stopping by the driver’s side to get a look.

“I take it that’s what killed him.” She said, nodding to the body. Steve walked up behind her, stooped down and his eyes flickered to the single bullet hole straight between Pierce’s eyes.

“Yup.” Tony said. “No other marks or bruises. The blood splatter indicates that he was shot where he is now, so we’re not looking for a second crime scene, same as the others in that respect.” “Yeah, and here’s your cereal…” Bruce said, holding up a clear bag “I’m no expert but these look like Apple Puffs to me.” “Well that fits.” Bucky said “AP, Alexander Pierce.”

“Time of death?” Steve asked and Tony looked at him.

“Judging from the body you’re probably looking at between 5 and 6 hours ago.” “We’ll know more when we get him on the slab.” Sam said, and Steve nodded.

“5 or 6 hours ago means he was killed in daylight.” Fury said, and Steve took a deep breath.

“I’ll get Thor to have his team conduct a door-to-door.” he said, and Fury nodded as the Captain turned to Bucky “I take it there were no signs of breaking and entering?”

“No.” Bucky said. “Natasha and Clint are in the house supervising the detailed forensics sweep but so far nothing. No forced door, picked locks, smashed windows.”

“Which confirms, as with all the others that Pierce knew his attacker.” Steve nodded.

“This is all pointing one way.” Katie said, “Rumlow. He fits the Profile to a tee…”

“But if what you found in those files is right, Pierce has been shielding Rumlow, hell, hey all have one way or another. If it’s him, why is he targeting them? Fury asked

“And why is he suddenly breaking with his MO?” Steve asked, “None of our other bodies have been killed at home or in broad daylight.”

“Maybe he’s just getting sloppy.” Bucky shrugged

“No.” Katie shook her head “That was an execution. Nothing about this is sloppy. If you want my opinion, he’s reached the end, everyone on that list of people involved in the conspiracy is now dead. This was done on purpose so we would find him like this, he’s taunting us…look what I did before you figured it out…”

“But that doesn’t answer my question.” Fury said “Why would Rumlow target the people who protected him?”

"Maybe he's just a fuckin’ psycho." Bucky shrugged “I mean, hey, Sam…”  Sam looked up at his shout “You said the last body, Schmidt, had been beaten in a blind rage right, symptomatic with someone losing their temper?”

“Yeah…” Sam nodded before he bent back over into the car, continuing his examinations and Bucky looked at her

“Point proven, he’s a loop.” “No. He’s not. He's too meticulous.” Katie shook her head and looked at Bucky “Each killing escalated in violence right? I think he was doing that to frighten Pierce. Leading him to think he was going to meet the most violent end of all.” she bit her lip. “What is it?” Steve asked.

“Rumlow can't have known for long...that Pierce was his father I mean.”

“His what?” Bucky spluttered as he looked at Katie then to Steve as Sam let out a huff of surprise too.

“Oh, yeah, there’s a lot we need to fill you in on…” Steve looked at the sergeant apologetically. “But not here…” Bucky nodded and Katie continued.

“If he had known, he would have been using him long before the rape case to progress his career because that's what he was like, a narcissist. Everything was about him. When Sarah Klein turned him down, he took her anyway...and then tried to do the same with me.”

“So he finds out about his parentage...he tells Pierce to make the rape case go away or he blows the fact that he got an underage girl pregnant.” Steve looked at her and she looked at him.

“That’s my guess, yeah.”

“So Pierce plays ball otherwise his career and reputation are dead in the water.” Fury mused “Which leaves Rumlow free to continue at the 99…” “And then he assaulted me.”  Katie swallowed “Which is where my dad comes into it. The assault charge against me is dropped as well, and we can assume Pierce was to thank for that too, only this time they hadn’t factored in Dad’s amazing ability to kick up a shit storm…so Pierce has no alternative but to force Rumlow to resign.”  she paused again and Steve spotted the look on her face, the look she wore when things were finally slotting into place.

“That’s what this is about…” she continued and looked up at Steve, then to Fury then to Bucky “In Rumlow’s eyes they all failed him…” she looked back at Steve “Rumlow had no family, no wife, nothing but the job so take that away from him and he becomes a no-one, which is the worst thing in the world that can happen to a narcissist.”

“But why wait 5 years?” Bucky looked at her.

“He didn’t.” she said, shaking her head “He killed the person he blamed at the time- My dad. Then 18 months or so later he gets busted for the robbery and handed 3 years. Only Pierce doesn’t bail him out this time so he spends his sentence getting angrier and angrier, because everyone else is to blame but himself. He gets out, and starts hunting the rest of them down. One by one. Anyone and everyone that he feels is at fault.”

There was a moment’s pause.

“Well…” Fury looked at Katie, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards lightly “Looks like you just cracked it Stark…”

And damned it, Steve couldn’t help the proud smile that spread across his face. His girl was clever, and he fucking loved her brain as well as her beauty.

“No wonder you wanted to bring her back from DC. Well, apart from the obvious more selfish reasons…” Bucky muttered to Steve, who looked at him, raising his eyebrow.

“I told you Buck…” he said, watching Katie who was talking to Fury now “She’s the best in the business.”

“…we still need to find him.” her voice said as Steve tuned back into what she was now discussing with the Commander. “And I need to prove it too. Back it all up with facts so it isn’t merely supposition…and I still want to know for sure what the fuck the cereal is all about.”

“So do I.” Fury said, as he looked at his watch “Ok, I’m gonna head back to Plaza, speak to Rhodes and Wuntcsh. We need to handle this press release carefully.” “I think we need to put Rumlow’s face out there.” Katie said “Let’s name him, have everyone in the country looking for him.”

Fury nodded “I agree, time we went public. Keep me up to speed.”

“Sir.” Steve nodded and watched the man make his way down towards his car. He turned back to his troops just as Natasha and Clint emerged from the house “Anything?”

They both shook their heads “Nothing out of the ordinary.” “Alright, in that case can you organise and supervise the house to house, Nat, get Thor onto it. Someone has to have seen something. Meanwhile, we’ll head back to the station.” he looked at Katie, Clint then Bucky “We’ll start digging into this theory, see if we can make it tie up. We could use your hawk eyes on this one Clint.”

“Happy to oblige Cap.” he saluted, before he turned to Nat “You keep my car, I’ll grab a lift off Super Serge…” he said, patting Bucky’s shoulder.

“Lucky me.” Bucky rolled his eyes, playfully.

***** They had been back at the station for roughly 2 hours, digging through everything they could think of whilst sprawled in the Incident Room. Clint had ordered pizza in for them, and as such there were discarded boxes along with cans of soda littered around the place, adding to the general chaos of the room.

Katie had written the key points of her theory on the whiteboard, and they were busy tacking documents to the board which seemed to back the different points up. The idea being, as Katie said, they could make connections, trace one link to another easier if the visuals were right there in front of them

It struck Steve just how like Howard Katie was. She worked in a very similar way, his mantra always being that if you eliminated the impossible, no matter what remains, however improbable, it had to be the truth. His daughter seemed to do the same. She was eliminating things that didn’t matter, that couldn’t possibly be true, things that were unimportant as she was following this one thread through the entire case. She’d said right from the off Rumlow was involved, even though they’d had no hard evidence to back that up. Well, now they did, and they were uncovering more and more as they worked.

Steve looked up as he saw Katie reaching for her phone. “Yeah, you get something?” he watched as she paused, her hand running through her hair before she grinned “Tony’ you're a fucking genius..."

She put the phone down and she stood up, moving to the board and pulling the DNA results off from where they'd been tacked up

"These are duplications..." she says "Tony's been digging and talking to a few of his friends in the private sector...apparently these were run originally by a Dr Armin Zola, who was struck off not long after for malpractice. The originals were mailed out to a Mr Brock Rumlow a few weeks before the rape took place...and guess what? Zola turned up dead a week or so later...choked on a steak."

"How the fuck did Tony find that out?" Bucky looked at her.

"Ok, when I say talking to a few friends...I actually mean hacking, but that's not important. I was right, Rumlow didn’t know until that point and ever since he's been using it. Pierce keeps him out of jail but when he's done for robbery he can't…” she tapped at a photo on the board, “because the CCTV footage, everything...it's too much. It would attract attention.”

Steve looked at her, then Bucky before Clint spoke up.

“Yeah, and I've been digging into Rumlow's financials. The guy was destitute. After leaving the police he struggled to find work- was doing the odd bit of security but nothing big, and he couldn't take his pension yet. This was the prosecutions main angle during the robbery case- that he needed the money.”

“The cereal…” Katie mumbled. “Fuck, when I said about the caviar and silver spoons normally being used about making a point, people being rich.”

“He is making the same point, but the other way around.” Steve looked at her and she nodded.

“No posh or fancy silver spoons for me, just mundane cereal. He’s bitter. Bitter he never had the fucking lifestyle that being Pierces kid would have brought him.”

“So he kills Zola…” Bucky looked up “And makes it look like an accident?” Katie bit her lip and something else flashed in her eyes and her mouth dropped open.

“What is it?” Steve looked at her.

“I don’t think he did…”

“The MO…” Bucky started, but she shook her head.

“It’s different. None of the others actually died from choking. They were hit with a hammer, or in Pierce’s case shot.”

“So someone else did Zola…” Bucky looked at her and Steve let out a sigh, the dots connecting in his own mind.

“Pierce.” he said looking at Katie. “Rumlow approaches him with the evidence and he kills Zola to keep his dirty little secret quiet...”

“And then when my dad uncovers all this…he killed him, and mom too.” She shook her head, looking down before she reached for her chair sinking into it “It was Pierce…he killed my parents…I can’t believe it.”

The room fell silent as the 3 men all exchanged a look and Steve turned back to his girl, whose eyes had filled with tears. And at that point, he decided enough was enough.

"Alright, I'm calling it." he said "It's midnight, it's been a long day.” he took a deep breath “Rumlow must have been staying somewhere since he got out of jail. Tomorrow we need to find out where” he turned then to Clint, “We’ll reconvene here at 8 am sharp. Barton, first thing I want you and Nat to follow any lead, no matter how small we got from the house to house. And before you go, get onto Thor...I want all eyes out for Rumlow on the night shift. If they see him, arrest on sight.”

****

Steve, Katie and Bucky all climbed out of Steve’s car in the underground parking lot attached to the apartment block. Steve headed to the trunk and pulled out Katie’s bag, which Bucky noticed was larger than normal meaning she was intending on staying for longer than the night, but he refrained from making any snarky comment. She’d hardly spoken a word all the way home and he couldn’t blame her. Instead he simply observed as Steve reached for her hand which she took and the two of them walked slightly ahead of him to the door that led to the elevators.

They emerged onto the landing and Steve unlocked the door, swinging it open to let Katie in first. Once she was in she took off her jacket, hung it on the coat stand by the door and turned to them both.

“I don’t want to be rude but I’m exhausted. I’m gonna take a shower and get in bed.” Bucky gave her a smile “Don’t blame you Doll Face.”

She managed a roll of her eyes with a smile at the nickname and she moved to take her bag from Steve but he shook his head.

“It’s ok, I’ve got it.” he said and she smiled at him before she turned back to Bucky.

“Night Buck.” “Yeah, see you in the morning.” he said.

Steve followed her down to his room where he deposited her bag on the chair in the corner and she turned to him, wrapping her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest. The rain was beating against the bedroom window and he glanced outside, his chin resting on the top of her head as he gave a sigh. Looked like this shit weather was in for the night, which was fairly apt really all things considered. Eventually she stepped back and looked up at him and he leaned down pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

“Go get sorted.” he said, “I won’t be far behind you. Do you want a drink or anything?” “No, I’m good thanks Stevie.”

He smiled again and then left her to her own devices. When he walked back into the kitchen Bucky was sat at the breakfast bar and slid him an open beer as he dropped onto the stool besides him.

“She ok?” Bucky asked.

“Not really.” Steve sighed

“And what about you?” Bucky looked at him. “You were close to Howard. That’s bound to have been a head fuck.” “You’re not wrong.” Steve sighed “We gotta catch this bastard Bucky. Pierce will never face justice for what he did but Rumlow can.” “And he will.” Bucky said, taking a mouthful of his beer “We’ll find him.”

The two friends sat talking until their beer was finished and at that both decided to call it a night. Steve’s room was dark when he entered, the only light coming from outside street lighting which flooded through the crack in the curtains. He went to pull them shut tightly but Katie stopped him.

“Don’t, I like the light.” He chuckled as he turned to face her “Now we both know you’re not afraid of the dark, Star.” “I know…” she said as he pulled off his Henley, discarding it over her pile of clothes on the chair “I just like it, that’s all.” Once he was down to his boxers he crawled over her, dropping a kiss to her lips “I’ll be 5. Just gonna shower.” “Ok.” she yawned, settling herself down further under the covers.

Steve took the hottest shower he could stand, willing the warmth to wash away the events of the day. His shoulders ached from them being so damned tense and he rolled them slightly, cracking his neck from side to side as the water beat down on him. Once he was done he headed back to his room, towelled off, pulled a clean pair of boxers on and settled down besides Katie. He pulled her to him, her back pressed to his chest as he dropped a soft kiss to her bare shoulder just to the side of the strap of her cami top. They lay silent for a while, the only sound was the rain falling outside, but he could tell she wasn’t asleep from her breathing.

“Remember that trip we took to Camp Lehigh.” Katie broke the silence and Steve took a deep breath.

“How could I forget?” he smiled. And he meant it, that weekend was ingrained in his brain forever. He’d split up with Peggy a few weeks before hand and Katie had split up with Grant a couple of months before that as well. The pair of them had been miserable, basically slumping around her apartment or his, wallowing in their joint grief and pity before Katie had decided they needed to go and do something, something fun. Camp Lehigh had been somewhere that her parents had taken her and Tony every year as kids, an activities camp of sorts, with little cabins and all kinds of sports and activities to do, so on a whim she’d booked them in for the weekend and they’d headed off. It had been great. They’d gone hiking, done the assault courses, paintballing, kayaking, drunk round the campfire with the other people there. In fact, that was where her star necklace had come from, the gift shop. It was a cheap, sterling silver pendant but he’d wanted to say thank you as the weekend had been a balm to his soul. Upon leaving they’d vowed that was it, their lives started over and they moved forward. Which was what they had done, and every spare bit of time they had they’d filled with something fun.

“You made me take the top bunk.” She said, “You were afraid if you took it you’d come falling through and land on me in the middle of the night.”

“Well on the second night we both ended up in the bottom one anyway.” he said, his arm pulling her closer “It was raining, like it is now, and then it thundered and you shit yourself.” “I did not…” she said indignantly, causing him to snort. “Ok, maybe a little…”

They fell silent again, and she shuffled in his arms, turning to face him. “You know, that night when we just lay there and we were talking for hours until you fell asleep…I could feel your heart beating in your chest and I remember asking myself how Peggy could have ever let you go.” Steve looked down at her, brushing her hair back slightly off her face as she continued. “In fact, I think that’s the moment I realised I loved you. I mean, I’d had those feelings for you for a long time but that was the time I finally understood why whenever I was with you I got that safe, happy feeling.” Steve pressed a kiss to her lips, his forehead resting against hers. “We wasted a lot of time Doll.”

“I know.” she sighed. “So stupid when you look back on it isn’t it?” “Well, there’s no point thinking about it now.” he said softly, his hand gently sliding up and down her back “You’re stuck with me forever.” “Promise?”

“Cross my heart Star.” he said, his lips catching hers again in a soft kiss before he grinned. “Even if you are afraid of thunder.” “Piss off…” She chuckled, shoving him gently.

“You know, I always found it odd…how you could be so scared of thunder but quite like a Storm…” he quipped and she let out a groan.

“Again, Steve?”

“Sorry, sorry…” he chuckled, “I know, it’s just…well it was only a week ago tonight that I thought I’d lost you again when you left with him.” “Keep on mentioning him and I just might do it again.” “Uh-uh…” he said, grinning as he rolled her onto her back. “Like I said, you’re stuck with me forever. You’re never leaving.” “Never?” “No.” “What you gonna do? Handcuff me to the bed?” Steve let out a soft groan as she tilted her hips upwards, pushing into his groin “Don’t tempt me Star…” She bit her lip as she looked up at him. “You wanna go all bad cop Captain?”

“Yeah, well, you bring out the absolute worst in me…”

“You love it.” she teased.

“No, I love you. The rest of the shit just comes along.” he mumbled, his lips catching hers again. This kiss this time fevered as her tongue slid into his mouth, tangling with his own. She gave a soft moan which almost died in her throat as she pulled back and looked up at him, her hands tangling in his hair. It took a while for the fog to clear from his lust addled brain, but eventually Steve pulled back, searching her eyes in the dim light of the room.

“Sweetheart, you need sleep…” he said, clearing his throat as his nose brushed up against hers. “After everything that’s happened today, I-“

“I need to forget…” she whispered, cutting him off, her hand cupping his face. “Please, make me forget Stevie…” She whispered into his mouth.

And that was it. Suddenly he was pulling her top over her head, his mouth nipping and sucking at her chest as she writhed and keened underneath him. His hand worked into the waistband of the shorts she was wearing and she gasped as his fingers gently started to tease her, before he upped the pace slightly, and with a flick of his wrist pushed two inside her, curling against that soft spot that he knew would leave her boneless and pliant underneath him.

“I love you…I love you so fucking much…”He said, making her groan again as he continued to work her with his hand. Eventually she couldn’t take it anymore and she wriggled underneath him.

“You want something?” he teased and she raised her head, glowering at him.

“Steve if you don’t fuck me right now I swear to God…” “You’ll do what?” he raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll call Storm…”

“Doll, don’t threaten me…” his voice grew low. She was such a mouthy little shit at times and she knew what buttons to press and when to press them, fucking brat.

“Or what?” she propped herself up on her elbows. Oh he knew exactly what. In a flash he had reached out, and grabbed at her hips, flipping her over so that her front was pressed into the bed covers. She let out a little shriek, followed by a dirty giggle which made his already evident arousal even harder as he crawled over her, nipping at her neck. In seconds he had her moaning again, and grinning to himself he pulled back slightly and she let out a cry of frustration.

“Steve…” she said, her voice pleading. He completely ignored her as he hovered over her, his mouth tracing a line down her spine as she continued to whimper. His lips formed a smirk against her skin and as he reached the dip of her lower back he wriggled out of his boxers and grasped her hips, pulling her ass off the bed. He easily discarded her shorts before he positioned himself behind her, the tip of his aching, rock hard cock simply teasing at her entrance.

“This what you want?” he practically purred and she groaned.

“Yes, Jesus Christ…” In one swift move he was buried to the hilt and she let out a load moan, her face muffled slightly by the pillow.

“Ah, ah Star” he said, as his hand reached out and gripped her shoulder, he pulled her back so she was propped up on her elbows “I wanna hear you…”

Katie bit her lip as he started moving, hard, fast, deep. He could tell that every thrust was rocking her very core and she was putty in his hands within minutes. As his hips snapped back and forth, loud grunts and groans filled the room, mingling with the sound of skin slapping on skin as he continued his ferocious pace, his hand still on her shoulder pulling her back onto him with every pound forward he made. Steve bent over her to nip at Katie’s neck, a little harder than usual, and he spoke into her ear with a growl. "You feel so good. So fucking good.”

"So do you…" she moaned to him as he kept up his relentless pace, and she felt the release creeping up through her belly. “Shit…Captain…” Captain…fuck he loved that! He gave another nip to her neck before he pulled back, looking down at the place they were joined, were he was pumping in and out of her as he continued his salacious assault on her spot. He felt her legs go rigid and she tightened around him, her head tipping back.

“Come for me doll…” he groaned and a loud cry ripped from her throat as her hands fisted around the sheets and her entire body shook. Unable to control herself she collapsed and in a flash Steve curled his arm around her waist, he’d never let her fall. A few short thrusts and he was done, the entire world around him tilted on its axis as he spilled himself inside of her with a low growl, before he collapsed forward, letting her down as gently as he could, finally face planting onto the bed, sweating and spent besides her. Neither of them moved for a moment, the only sounds that could now be heard was deep breathing from both of them as they came down from their high, fighting for composure. Eventually Steve felt Katie move and he turned his head lazily to the right to see she was led on her stomach, her head turned towards him, and at the sight of her looking utterly wrecked thanks to him, he couldn’t help the smug grin spreading across his face.

“I kinda like Bad Cop.” She mumbled and he laughed, reaching out to brush her hair behind her ear before he pulled her face towards his for a soft, gentle kiss.

********

Steve's eyelids were heavy the following morning and he struggled to open his eyes before rubbing them and giving a yawn. His bladder was full but his mind wandered to the events the previous day, exhausting as they had been, which had led to a no less exhausting, albeit for better reasons, night. He smiled as he turned around to reach for Katie only to find the left side of his bed empty. He ran a hand over the vacated space and sighed at the cold touch.

After the customary visit to the bathroom and putting on a t-shirt, Steve went out of his bedroom and headed for the kitchen, following the clattering sounds of breakfast getting ready as if he was following the Pied Piper. When he reached the kitchen door the smell of something just baked mixed with the delicious scent of freshly brewed coffee hit his nostrils.

But something even more delicious caught his sight. Just as he had predicted Katie was already up, making breakfast. She was wearing one of his Henley shirts over her lacy panties and nothing more. He was sure. He had spotted Katie's bra discarded over the back of the chair with the rest of her clothes from the previous night before heading out. Steve felt something stir inside his boxer briefs at the sight of his shirt covering the curve of his girl's ass and how it hung over the upper part of her thighs. Fortunately, he had decided as a last minute decision to put on a pair of pyjama pants.

He couldn't deny the sight of Katie, in his clothes, making breakfast in his kitchen like she just belonged, made his chest burst with happiness. To the point that he let out a contented sigh from where he was leaning on the kitchen's door frame.

It was then that Bucky, who was sitting at the breakfast bar eating his plums, noticed his presence and turned around. He saw his friend, and observed the way he was staring at Katie and mouthed Pervert at him.  Steve just smiled and said "Morning." At that Katie turned to greet him back and Steve instantly saw the stains on her cheeks. She had been crying. He gave her a concerned look before turning to look at Bucky who didn't need any words to understand what he was expected to do.

"Erm, I'm gonna get ready." he said as he just sat up before nodding at Steve as he left the kitchen giving them some space.

Steve then crossed the floor of the room towards her and Katie simply leaned into him, wrapping her arms round his wide back. Her face pressed into his T-shirt, inhaling his scent. He didn't say anything. He just rubbed his girl's back as he thought he could get used to her being there in his arms every morning, before stepping back and wiping her face with his finger pads.

"Sweetheart, how much sleep did you get?" he asked her softly.

"Few hours." she shrugged. "I just couldn't stop thinking about mum and dad... and how Tony needs to know we're pretty sure Pierce did it and..."

Steve sensed her beginning to spiral and decided to take the matter in his hands.

"Shhhhh...Star, just breathe... let me help you with this ok? We'll go to the station, check on the status of the search for Rumlow and then we'll go speak to Tony." he cooed, hugging her against his chest again.

Katie nodded and Steve, satisfied with how things were turning out, tried again with another distraction.

"What were you cooking?" he asked nodding towards the stove.

"I did cinnamon buns, your Ma's recipe...and was just whipping up some eggs and bacon." she answered as she resumed her position in front of the bowls and pans that were scattered over the kitchen counter.

Steve realised then she had to have been up for hours if she had managed cinnamon buns as whenever she made those, she usually got them ready the night before to bake in the morning.  He shook his head in a disapproving gesture before approaching her again, hugging her from behind this time, and kissing her head.

"Ok Doll, let's get those ready and we can eat." he suggested.

"I'm not that hungry..." Katie began to explain.

"That wasn't a request. You're already sleep deprived. I don't want you fainting because you haven't eaten." Steve stated, nearly ordered, going into concerned Captain mode.

She saw Katie smile, instead of getting all pissy at his commanding tone of voice, and bite her lip.

"What?" he asked.

"You'll make a great husband one day..." she said with a simile that reached her eyes.

And just like that Steve was brought back to his ma's banter about the ring and the proposal for the second time in less than 24 hours.  And not only that. Fucking hell! It hadn't even been a week since they had got back together. What day was today anyway? Friday? Just the previous Friday he was moping around and getting dragged to the Compound in a stormy, you could say, turn of events. But then again, as everyone liked to point out lately, they went back to 10 years before any of this. Everything they've done...it really was like they had dated but without the physical side. How the fuck did he not see what was right in front of his damned eyes for all that time? Coz you're a stupid, punk. His little inner voice answered for him, a voice which was annoyingly similar to Bucky's. But back to the husband thing....

"Well, as long as it's your husband Doll..." Steve said as he felt his cheeks flush.

Katie stopped what she was doing to look at him and simply smiled again, that damned smile that got him weak, before giving him a gentle kiss.

He then grabbed a tea towel from the breakfast bar and threw it over his shoulder to start helping Katie.  He was loving the domesticity. How she directed him around as if they were a pair of newly- weds getting breakfast ready on a lazy Sunday morning. Again those marriage thoughts but he didn't mind as he helped her with the food before shoving more coffee on. And then their domestic bliss was broken by a piercing sound.

"Can I come back in now? I'm starving!" Bucky shouted from somewhere in the living room.

"Jerk." Steve yelled back.

"Smells good, doll face" Bucky said when he appeared in the kitchen a few seconds later.

"That fucking name!" Katie said, throwing a spoon at him.

"You know? I still remember the first time I called you that and you got mad." Bucky grinned catching said spoon expertly in his right hand.

"I hated you back then." Katie retorted as she whipped the eggs.

"You didn't doll face. You loved me. And HIM." Bucky said gesturing to Steve.  "Even though you pretended otherwise." he shrugged before biting another plum.

Steve then saw Katie stop what she was doing and slowly turn to look at his friend with narrowed eyes. There she is, he thought, his face cracking into a grin at the dirty look she was shooting his best friend.

"Piss off Barnes."

Bucky laughed before looking at Steve. "Steve tell her how you were mad at me coz you thought I was hitting on her."

"No...that's...I never said that..." Steve tried to protest as he looked from Bucky to Katie.

"Oh you absolutely did." Bucky said nodding exaggeratedly.

"Seriously Steve...you can't lie for shit." Katie said after watching him for a couple of seconds, a smile playing on her face.

"Remember when they all gave you the slip and I bought you lunch?" Bucky asked Katie. “Well apparently I did that because I wanted to bone you…” At that Katie let out a huge laugh and Steve sighed, shaking his head.

"Ok, maybe I was a little paranoid..."

"Yes, paranoically in love...." Bucky quipped.

"Do you wanna eat this breakfast or wear it, jerk?" Steve said with feigned indignation. Well, maybe not so feigned. Although it was true, he didn't like being exposed like that. Not that Katie didn't know how he had felt about her, though.

Katie chuckled and shook her head as she started to plate up breakfast.

Bucky then shot Steve a wink, to which the captain mouthed Thank you. He really appreciated his friend's efforts to keep her distracted from her thoughts again. Even though Bucky could be like an annoying little brother at times, Steve felt the dynamic the three of them had set was remarkably good. True Katie and Bucky had hit it off from the beginning, despite their constant bickering, but the addition of Bucky to the equation that was his and Katie's budding relationship was flawless. Mind you, he could be a teasing jerk sometimes, and there was no way he didn't hear them the previous night the way they were going at it but he hadn't passed any comment. Not yet, at least.

They headed for the station without further ado that morning. There was so much to do, so many phone calls to make, so many reports and evidence to go through once more, now the case had taken a much needed, though unexpected, turn. They had no time to waste and they were also eager to know if the search on Rumlow had thrown any light.

So Steve pulled the car into the station's parking lot after a quick stop to grab their usual morning coffee treat, seeing as it was his turn to buy and Bucky wasn't willing to let it go. No matter how busy they were, no matter what the circumstances were. Steve wondered what was with Bucky and just eating plums for breakfast first thing in the morning and not having his dose of caffeine until much later through the day. Unless he was hungover that is, which was happening a lot quite recently.

When the three of them entered the station's main office they were met with a face they weren't expecting. Sure, they didn't expect to find Wanda but her replacement had arrived fast and might have caused a stir in the organization of another precinct.

"Gina! Oh my god..." Katie squealed, approaching the woman with her arms open.

"What are you doing here? Not that I don't want you here but are you Wanda's replacement?" Steve asked, trying to understand.

"Kinda... I'm gonna be doing 2 days here, 3 at the 99 until Fury finds someone." Gina explained as she stepped back from Katie’s embrace.

"Fury didn't tell me he was calling you in." Steve frowned.

"Well, there's a lot of things he doesn't tell people." Gina shrugged, as if she hung out with Fury on a daily basis.

Steve went quiet and looked at Katie, who was unsuccessfully trying not to laugh. His own mouth was quirking as well when he turned around to look at Bucky who had an expression of utter whatthefuckness, if that was even a word, all over his face. But Gina didn't seem to be bothered in the slightest, as she continued sharpening the pencils Wanda had left in the pencil pot at the reception desk before asking. "What did you do to Maximoff."

"I didn't do anything to her, she quit." Steve informed, yet a bit offended.

"Ah, maybe that's why she resigned... Anyway Captain, your post is on your desk and I sent pretty eyes out for a Danish." Gina said, turning into assistant mode.

"Who's pretty eyes?" Bucky asked.

He had met the woman twice, once when he had been at the 99 with Katie to fetch Rumlow's case files and the other a week or so ago on the night out. He remembered clearly on their trip to the 99 Station, she had been teaching Holt how to trash talk. Frankly, the woman was something else.

"Clint..." Katie said, smiling as she sat down on her chair and switched her computer on.

"Is he married?" Gina asked nonchalantly.

The three of them then paused and looked at one another. They didn't know what to say because, truth be told, they hadn’t got a clue.

"I dunno actually, ask Romanoff..." Katie was the first to speak.

"She's kinda scary..." Gina trailed.

"No more than Diaz." Katie quipped, winking an eye at her.

"Yeah, ok, fair point. Anyway I'd love to chat all day but I got stuff to do so stop distracting me." Gina shrugged and started to sort some post on Romanoff's and Barton's desks.

Steve frowned and opened his mouth to say something to the woman but he was utterly lost for words. If whatthefuckness really wasn’t a term then someone needed to add it to the dictionary because that was the only thing that came to his mind right then. So he closed his mouth again and looked at Katie, who again was trying not to laugh.

He was so lost for words to express what he had just experienced that he didn't think too much of it when he dropped a kiss to Katie's cheek who looked up at him surprised.

"Oh... Ok... Finally." Gina said casually before heading back to her desk.

Steve then went bright red at the realization of what he had just done. That was not what he was supposed to be doing in the office he thought as he headed for his office door in a rush, cursing internally, without glancing in Bucky's direction. He didn't need to look at him to know he would be grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Thank God, Clint and Nat were nowhere to be seen.

Speaking of the devils, just as Steve was closing the door of his office he saw Clint walk in with Natasha with a brown paper bag, presumably from the deli round the corner. He could hear the banter the two detectives were having with Gina as he took off his jacket hung it over his chair's back.

He ignored the muffled sounds that came from the main office and decided to have a look at his post. He picked up a few letters and went through them. It seemed to be just the normal internal memos and stuff. There was also a note from Fury to say Gina would be starting. No shit Sherlock, he thought.

He then noticed one manila envelope that was a bit larger than normal. He frowned as he opened it to discover it was a box of special K cereal. He instantly dropped it and stood up giving a very loud “Fuck!”

Steve could hear the sound of chairs being dragged and concerned words he could not fully understand in the main office before his office door was slammed open and everyone headed inside, Katie leading them. But they all stopped on their tracks as they spotted the cereal box on his desk.

"Shit, he hasn’t finished...” Katie looked at it, as she glanced at Steve “Special K... SK...Fuck Steve, he's going for Sarah Klein." Katie stuttered, but still managed to get her thoughts expressed.

Steve blinked at the cereal box just as Katie's words sank in and instantly went into Cap mode.

"Buck, get onto Interpol. We need to inform the German Authorities, warn them. Barton and Romanoff I want everyone looking for Rumlow right now. Get Thor to step up patrols. He has to have been staying somewhere, so find him." he called it, nearly barked.

"I'll grab an evidence bag, get that to Tony." Katie offered.

"Doll, you don't have to do that, I can send someone from patrol..." Steve trailed, his voice softening.

"Did he just say doll?" Clint asked Nat, quirking up his eyebrow.

"Loud and present." she answered.  

"I can do that, Steve." Katie said, ignoring Bucky's smirk as he had overheard Clint and Nat too.

"I’ll go with you, I said I would..." Steve insisted, but she cut him off.

"No, it's fine. I want to talk to him about what we found yesterday and think its best I do that alone. And besides, you're needed here."

"Ok, get to it. I'll call Fury, keep him updated." he said after a moment’s hesitation, nodding.

And that was the cue for everybody to retreat to the main office and start working on their Captain's orders. There was no time to waste. Steve grabbed his phone and was about to dial Fury's extension number when he noticed Bucky hadn't left his office and was smiling at him.

"What?" he asked, placing the phone on his desk again.

"So, before you kissed her cheek, and now you called her Doll in front of everyone." Bucky said, slumping on one of the chairs in front of Steve's desk.

Steve groaned and blushed again before asking “Did I? Fuck... It came out naturally, I didn't mean to..."

"Don't worry, Pal." Bucky said, waving whatever embarrassing thoughts Steve might be getting with a movement of his hand.

"I should control it though, Fury..." Steve said, ignoring his comment.

"Steve, Fury is on your side. Otherwise Katie would be cleaning toilets at Police Plaza instead of being here." Bucky tried to calm him.

But he remarked the last word and Steve got what he was trying to say. It was Saturday. Officially Katie should be off the case, but here she was working on it despite Fury’s orders. Mind you, Fury had been there yesterday when she had basically cracked it and had also, albeit maybe not expressly, given Steve the permission to keep her involved on an unofficial basis…but he would be damned if he abiding by the official orders and benching her now. And he was willing to bet no one in the station would go and tell Fury. With Wanda out of the picture, they were a perfectly assembled team again, watching each other's six.

Steve smiled at him and Bucky stood up and turned to go just as Katie came back with an evidence bag and gloves. He watched as she methodically put the box in the evidence bag and looked at him, nodding.

"Ok, I'll call you in a bit." she said.

"Ok..." Steve nodded and smiled at her. Then he checked around and decided this time it was safe, no eavesdroppers or unwanted witnesses, before saying "Love you. Try not to worry."

"I will and love you too..." she said back before heading off, nodding to Thor who was passing her.

"You're in a rush little Stark?" he asked.

"Gotta get this down to the lab. Talk to you in a bit..." she nodded.

"This is taller and stronger, is he married?" Bucky heard Gina asking Nat.

For the following hour and half everyone was doing what they had been told to as if doing it was second nature to them. The bullring was like a busy marketplace, full of people talking. Thor was helping Nat organize a sting whilst Clint was on the phone talking to some contacts, all of whom seemed to be some sort of former spies if you asked Bucky based on the odd bits of conversation he could get from his desk, trying to trace Rumlow and emailing his photo left, right and centre. Bucky was focused on getting onto Interpol, Rumlow's photo was already at all major airports, but they have to alert the Munich Police force to take Sarah Klein into protective custody.

Gina was assisting them all in whatever phone number or data they might need while screening calls according to importance or relevance to the priority case and taking messages for all of them and Bucky had to give the woman credit, she was doing it well.

At some point Bucky saw Gina stand up from her desk and beeline to Nat's desk where Thor was perched revising some notes on the police operative for the sting.

"Can I get you something to drink?" she said looking at the tall blonde as she pointed in the direction of the kitchen with her right thumb. "Maybe tea?" she insisted, seeing Thor was looking at her wondering who the woman was.

"I don't drink tea." he stated plainly.

"What do you drink?" Gina asked again, now curious about the man.

"Not tea." he stated again as if it was obvious.

Bucky chuckled as he saw Gina look at Thor as if he was some kind of mixture between an alien from another planet and a God, and just as she shrugged and moved to head for the kitchen she nodded at the photos of cereal brands that Natasha was shoving back into a file.

"By the way, what's with the cereal?" she asked.

Natasha then started to explain but soon Thor cut her off and started rambling about how every victim had a different make of cereal shoved down their throats once they were dead. There had been Puffed Rice, Jump Start, Juicy Skulls and finally Apple Puffs.

"God, that's so unimaginative. It should be a cereal that represents the person..." Gina spoke her mind.

"It did." Bucky explained. "It was their initials."

"No. I mean like their personalities..." she said before elaborating on her idea. "So, I would be something sophisticated, like a Granola."

Bucky, Thor and Natasha looked at her, finding it hard to believe what she had just said and Clint snorted as he lifted his eyes from the screen of his computer. At that point Steve walked out about to ask for an update when Gina continued her charade.

"And Captain Hottie Rogers here would be Cap'n Crunch" she said with a flourish of her hand and a wide grin, proud of her own joke.

"What are you talking about?" Steve asked her. "What is she talking about?" he asked again, looking at Natasha this time.

"She's just critiquing the Cereal Serial Killer's choice of breakfast snack." the detective said, smiling slightly.

Steve took a deep breath, reminding himself she wouldn't be here for long, before speaking. "Ok, can we focus, please? Thor, report on your troops."

"The gates of hell are filled with..."

Steve stopped listening to Thor, who seemed to have been infected by Gina's nonsense rambling, as from the corner of his eye he saw Clint whisper something to Nat, who snorted. Steve then glared at her. He had too much on his plate right now as it was and they were starting to give him a headache with their shenanigans and high-school whispers.

"Care to share with the rest of the team?" he asked Clint, sternly.

"Sorry, Cap. It…it was a bad joke." Clint apologized.

"Well, it was clearly amusing so let's hear it." Steve insisted.

Clint looked at Bucky, who nodded discreetly at him. Steve had used his Captain voice, he was pissed off. You'd better answer him, pal.

"I just reminded Nat of a joke we used to make... how Katie would be your Special K, that's all, was just a..." Clint explained. “We code named our matchmaking plan Operation Cap’n Crunch and Special K…you know, it…”

"Ha, that's amusing." Thor's laugh echoed throughout the main office, earning an appreciative look from Gina. "Cap'n Crunch and Special K..." he added, shaking his head.

But instead of laughing at the lame joke a cold feeling washed over Steve as the lightbulb suddenly lit up in his head. "Shit."

"Sorry..." Thor trailed, starting an apology.

But Steve wasn't listening to him, his eyes darted at Bucky instead whose mouth had dropped open.

"It's not Sarah Klein..." Bucky mumbled, looking at his friend.

Steve pulled out his phone and pressed the call button. Bucky saw his hand tremble as he brought the device to his ear and yelled "Buck, call Tony. Check if Katie is there. Hurry!"

Clint and Nat shared an understanding and concerned glance just before Gina asked "What's going on?"

Natasha looked at her and swallowed before answering. "Special K...it's Katie Stark... not Sarah Klein."

"Steve..." Bucky's voice which was slightly shaky attracted all the attention just as Steve looked at him. "Tony says Katie hasn't been to the lab..."

"Fuck!" Steve hollered. "Son of a bitch!" he swore again, kicking a chair before turning and starting barking orders, going on full Captain mode like they had never seen him before.

"Natasha, get the CCTV up from the parking lot." he ordered before pointing at Clint "If she left in her car, get on to traffic, pull up any cameras on the way to the lab, see if they track her plate."

Next he pointed at Thor, then Bucky "You, you with me now, we'll take a patrol car and run the route to the lab..."

There was a flurry of movement in the office as everyone jumped to it. Steve, Bucky and Thor literally ran from the office as soon as Steve had grabbed his jacket. He was trying to ignore the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, but his breakfast wasn't willing to cooperate.

[rainythefox]

Nightfall (Ch.13)

Synopsis: Pre-Resident Evil 1, slight-AU/Canon Divergence. Claire Redfield comes home to visit her  brother Chris for the holidays but gets caught up in a dangerous game of  cat and mouse with Albert Wesker, the Captain of STARS, after stumbling  upon dark secrets. She can’t call the law; Wesker is the law, and she  can’t tell Chris. She is trapped…Claire/Wesker & Slight  Chris/Jill. Rated M for eventual smut, language, violence, adult content.

AO3 Link

Chapter 13: I Know You

(Warning: This chapter contains Smut!)

Claire realized she had stared down the barrel of a gun more times in this past week than she did in her entire life. She didn't really appreciate that and gave Lowery an insulted glare as he came a bit closer. Despite her perilous situation, her Redfield temper got the best of her.

"You always point a gun at students? Not exactly welcoming."

"Not typically," Lowery answered warily. "But then again, you aren't a RCU student, are you? And it never was your intention tonight, was it?"

It seemed as though William's brush off of this paranoid, quiet professor of little relevance was poorly advised. What Claire had forgotten was that William was in a position where everyone was inferior and of no threat to him, not only because of his infamy and prowess, but apparently from who he also had as a guard dog.

Either way, Claire now had a serious problem on her hands. And Wesker wasn't on the other side for help.

"I have no idea what the hell you're talking about," Claire replied coolly.

"Really? So, you don't have my missing file from the lab? The one my business partner said you dropped right in front of him?" Lowery inquired skeptically. "It's a good thing he showed up, otherwise I don't think I would've been able to catch up with you."

Claire kept calm, her eyes flicking back and forth from his steely face to the gun trained at her chest. All she had on her was her knife. She couldn't slip up now, otherwise she would be arriving back home in a body bag. "You must have me mistaken for someone else."

"Oh, it's you. I was tipped off that someone would try to steal our plans tonight. I had no idea it would be someone like you though. Hand them over or I will shoot you."

"Are you crazy? Shooting someone over some documents?"

He stepped closer, getting impatient. "I have no problem killing for them."

Claire couldn't hand it over. She had to protect Chris. The file was a requirement needed for her freedom. Besides, she was more afraid of Wesker than she was of this incompetent prick.

The file was hidden in her coat under her arm. Claire slightly raised her hands, even away from the knife in her pocket, mind plotting. "Come search me yourself. I don't have it!"

Lowery closed the short distance between them, guarded but also anxious to get this over with. As soon as he got close enough, Claire snatched the arm with the gun and pushed it away from her, kicking him hard in the groin and then slamming him into the bus behind her. He yelped in surprise, but in her attempt to disarm him, he recovered faster than she thought he would. He shoved her, attempting to grab her and they both slipped in the snow and tumbled to the ground. The file flew from the safety of her parka, landing in the snow just beside them.

The middle-aged professor pinned Claire face down, icy snow burning her face as she inhaled some up her nose.

"You stupid bitch, who sent you? Who're you working for?!"

Claire was able to pull out her knife. She blindly stabbed it up and behind her. The blade went deep in somewhere, his thigh, she guessed. He screamed in pain, rolling off and Claire sprang to freedom. Her initial instinct was to stomp his face in, but that gun came up to her face as he bled in the snow. Time seemed to slow as he pulled the trigger. She was done for.

Lowery's hand popped like a balloon, barely within the blink of an eye, bright and red. He cried out in shock and agony again, the gun flinging from his hand, blood spraying across the snow like spilled paint. Claire immediately snatched up the weapon and aimed it right back at him, not really understanding what had happened but not taking any chances. That's when she noticed the sleek, short dagger sticking out from his hand, the tip of the blade having gone completely through his palm.

Before it could completely register, a tall, muscular form stepped out of the shadows from between the buses and stalked over to the injured professor. Claire directed the gun at the stranger, but soon recognized the silver-haired man that Wesker had talked to beneath the streets of Raccoon City. Nikolai Zinoviev.

Despite the situation, the Russian mercenary had a playful grin on his scruffy face. "Looks like you picked fight with wrong girl, comrade! She's a feisty one, eh?"

Lowery hissed and groaned between gnashed teeth, glaring up at the snickering newcomer. "Nikolai? What the hell? You tipped Aaron and me off about her, why are you doing this?"

"Oh, sorry, friend. Our agreement expired because my new employer bought out yours and doubled price for his own. How is it you Americans say? Ah, right…money talks."

His hands may have been up in submission, but there was no mistaking the spite on Lowery's face. "I'll double his price…right now. Just give me my file and give me the girl."

"Just try it," Claire warned, pointing Lowery's own gun at him.

Nikolai chuckled. "She's just not that into you, comrade. Besides, she is under strict protection of my employer. If she gets just a scratch, it's my head. You understand, yes?"

Holding his bleeding hand, the college professor's defiant stare cracked, replaced with fear. "You gonna kill me?"

The younger Redfield did not like the sleazy grin on the silver-haired Russian's face. She refused to give Lowery what he wanted, but she didn't think he deserved to die. However, she got a more concerning feeling in her gut by Nikolai's smug look and shallow shrug. "Welllllll, that's where it gets interesting. I was supposed to kill anyone that got wind of our scheme here. But that little detail on agreement was outbid by his partner, without my employer's knowledge, of course! He wishes to speak with you, Dr. Lowery. You have time to chat, hmm friend?"

"W-Who?"

"You will know when we get there. Stay positive! Perhaps you two can make deal. Then we can put whole thing behind us!"

Nikolai stepped over to Lowery, holding out his hand, offering to help the wounded man to his feet. There was an underlying threat to his tone that Lowery had no choice but to come along. Claire felt his powerlessness as he glanced around, apprehensive. He raised his uninjured hand to take Nikolai's, but in the blink of an eye, the mercenary grabbed the professor and knocked him out cold.

"What the hell?!" Claire spat.

Nikolai pulled the knife from Lowery's hand and bandaged him up. He wiped the knife on his pants and inserted it into a cylindrical tube. It clicked in Claire's mind that the knife had been shot out of that when it struck Lowery. A ballistic knife. The Russian mercenary pocketed his weapon and started dragging the younger man through the snow. Claire watched, aghast, and then stomped after him.

"What do you think you're doing?!"

"The white SUV just over there," Nikolai nodded with his head. "That is our ride."

"You are my ride?"

"Ms. Wong received new orders. So now you and I get to spend some quality time together, printsessa."

She knew well enough that whatever he had called her was some kind of pet name and that rolled off her skin like cold sludge. "Fuck that. I'll walk."

He wasn't fazed by her attitude, in fact, she was sure he was fed by it. That same sleazy grin appeared as he seemed to drag the man with little effort, way stronger than he looked. "In this weather? You catch cold easily. Besides, it is my responsibility to return you to Wesker."

"Sounds like a personal problem."

Nikolai snorted as he loaded the unconscious professor into the backseat of the vehicle . "Does it? You know what else is personal? Your brother, Chris, yeah?"

Claire froze, having only taken three defiant steps away from this situation once Nikolai reached the SUV. She turned around, glaring. She aimed Lowery's gun at him, angry, protective, cornered.

"What do you know about my brother?"

He raised his hands in mock surrender, the same wily grin still in place, careful steps moving towards her and away from the SUV where Lowery was now locked away. "Oh, little of everything, I suppose. Address, schedule, hobbies..."

There was an underlying threat there. Her gut clenched, rolled like a dying animal. And all Claire could come to understand was that this dangerous mercenary knew this information with the sole purpose of killing her big brother.

In a split second the scarred mercenary disarmed her, flipping the gun around on her. Claire froze, breath hitching, and Nikolai playfully chortled.

"Ohhhh, too slow, little Claire!"

He was a complete blur, she could barely register what just happened. This man was dangerous. Very dangerous.

She kept his gaze with the dirtiest look she could muster, hiding her worry, exposing her anger. After all, if Nikolai spoke the truth about Wesker having her under his protection, what was there to fear? Especially of him?

"You're going to kill my brother?" Claire hissed.

"Only if you do not do as you're told. It's simply collateral, printsessa."

"Wesker fucking hired you to do this?"

Nikolai chuckled. "You're surprised? Comrade Wesker doesn't get his hands dirty unless he has to. Why would he when he has pawns or even paid professionals like myself?"

Claire wasn't surprised. But she was still livid. Feeding off of her anger, Nikolai continued to spite her.

"Don't worry, I'm only having little fun." He slipped the gun inside his coat and opened the front passenger door of the SUV for her. "Come along, printsessa. I take you back to where you belong. It is in my best interest that I return you in perfect condition."

Offended, she snapped, "I belong at home with my brother!"

Nikolai half-shrugged. God, she wanted to shoot that smug grin off his face. "That is not what comrade Wesker thinks."

"I don't give a damn what he thinks!"

The younger Redfield didn't have much of a choice. If she didn't go with Nikolai, he would kill her brother under orders from Wesker. But going with him also meant going into the open arms of the enemy.

Biting her tongue, fists clenched, she got inside the vehicle and her pompous companion closed the door and went around and got in the driver's seat. Claire looked back at the unconscious Lowery. Nikolai had tied his arms to the backseat in case he woke up.

"You are in interesting position," Nikolai stated after driving for a bit. "Both blessing and curse to have Wesker's protection. But even more interesting is how obsessed he seems with you."

"I'm just trying to get back to my normal life, whatever it takes."

Nikolai's hollow laugh filled the cab. "He's not going to let you go...not by what I saw."

Claire didn't say anything, both mad and upset that he was probably right. She stared out the window. Raccoon City life went on, even after dark. Busy, bustling, oblivious, day and night.

"He had girl like you awhile back...five, six years ago. Pretty little thing, not much older than you, red hair too. Emigrated here working for Umbrella, eastern Europe, I think."

"What happened to her?" Claire asked, suddenly interested.

Nikolai shrugged apathetically. "No one knows for sure. Most rumors revolve around her fleeing for some reason. Going into hiding. Personally, I think Wesker just got bored of her and ran her off. I guess we'll never really know."

Claire grew quiet, although more questions burned within her about this mysterious woman. Maybe it was best to leave well enough alone; but it did make her more curious about Wesker and the seemingly endless secrets he had. Just a while ago, she would have thought it impossible that Wesker would care about anyone but himself.

Her inner pondering got her the mercenary's sarcastic quip in return. "Oh, don't worry, Claire! She's long gone. Wesker has his eyes on you and you alone. He's all yours! Ahh, you don't know how many females would kill to be in your place right now."

Nikolai's creepy chortle unsettled her. She focused on the passing scenery outside her window. But perhaps it wasn't the mercenary's vile laugh that really unsettled her, but the way her pulse rocketed in tune with an excited warmth in her groin...

Claire began to wonder how they would get the unconscious Lowery out of the car and down into NEST when Nikolai parked the SUV in the alleyway behind an Umbrella pharmacy. Her inner questions were soon answered when a few men in black mercenary suits came outside. Nikolai barked orders at them in Russian as they yanked the professor out without an ounce of sympathy.

She had a real bad feeling when Nikolai motioned her to follow them. The pharmacy was closed, dark, but they went into the back where a security door was. A pharmacist was there waiting, dressed in her appropriate attire and swiped a keycard to allow them entry. She didn't look like she was being coerced or intimidated. In fact, she looked more annoyed than anything, as though letting these thugs through her business put a huge damper on her beauty sleep.

By the time they took a large elevator down into the sewers, Lowery started coming to. But the two hefty men carrying him under the arm pits would have no problem keeping him under control. They followed along the marked passageways that would take them to NEST.

"Oh God, no! Please, no!" Lowery cried, recognizing their surroundings. He fought with the men who carried him, pleaded even. "Just kill me now! Don't hand me over to that devil!"

But his cries went ignored. Claire felt bad for the man, even after he had tried to kill her. She didn't blame him for his futile fighting and begging. Wesker would surely condemn this man to a horrible death and write it off as some sort of accident, never to be questioned.

Even as they trekked through the clean, bright hallways of NEST, Lowery's cries for help and mercy went unanswered. Some Umbrella workers simply turned a blind eye while others paused to enjoy watching the man's misfortune.

They stopped at an intersection of hallways. Although Lowery had exhausted himself struggling with his captors, he still quietly sobbed for his life. He stared puffy-eyed at Claire and it hurt her to the bone. She was responsible for his fate. If only he hadn't followed her. If only he had let her go.

"You don't know who you're working for," he said to her. "He's a monster! The absolute worst!'

"I'm so sorry. I didn't want any of this to happen," Claire replied, feeling guilty. She wasn't sure he would believe her. "Wesker blackmailed me. I'm just trying to protect my brother."

Lowery's face scrunched up, and strangely he laughed. A snorty, "fuck-it-all" laugh that was more creepy than anything. "I wasn't talking about Wesker."

The college student was caught off guard, just assuming the professor was talking about her own captor. But it didn't take her long to realize who he was really talking about.

"Consider yourself lucky." His last words were muttered, bitter.

Nikolai nodded to his men, and they started dragging him off down one long, blindingly white hallway. Lowery had given up fighting, his eyes haunted, searing into hers as he was hauled off, probably never to be seen again.

"Come along, printsessa. Wesker awaits your return."

Claire hesitated, perturbed, telling herself that Lowery was a bad man and deserved what he got, and that she had to do what she did to save Chris. She joined Nikolai as they took a different route, her steps without as much pep as his, thinking.

"Ah, cheer up, Claire! You looked out for most important person. Yourself! This saves precious brother in end!"

She would've been insulted by his words if she hadn't been so damn confused on why Lowery was more afraid of William than he was of Wesker.

"What is William going to do to that man? Why was he more afraid of him than Wesker?"

Nikolai half-glanced at her, the corners of his lips tugging upward. "They're two different monsters, printsessa. There are fates worse than death if you haven't figured that out already."

Annette had said those very same words to her before. And although she had understood the concept, fearing that her blackmailing and enslavement to Wesker would go on forever, there was something about the way that Nikolai had said it that disturbed her on a deeper level.

"Who do you think has more empathy?"

Claire looked at him, confused. "William. Obviously."

Nikolai chuckled. "Then you do not know Birkin very well!" When she stayed quiet, he continued. "Wesker has more empathy, even if it's indirect most of time."

Claire scoffed at that. "Yeah, right."

"It's true! Take Dr. Lowery for example. Comrade Wesker would've just saved us all the trouble and put a bullet between his eyes. But Birkin has to have something more...exciting. Lowery would've preferred that bullet. Therefore, in such instance, Wesker has more empathy. And, well, there's you, isn't there? Most people would've died in your situation, but Wesker spared you...even if it was for nefarious motives. And the fact that he has given you his protection is quite telling!"

"What is William going to do?"

Nikolai shrugged. "Not for me to say. Unless, of course, you wish to purchase such secrets from me."

She glared at the greedy son of a bitch. "Not in your life."

Again, the Russian mercenary was amused and not at all insulted. "As you wish. But here is free advice, printsessa. Take it or leave it. The thing about Wesker and Birkin is that they do not have the capacity to care for anyone outside of their private circle. Wesker only cares for Birkin and his unbearingly cute daughter - besides himself, of course. And that care doesn't even extend to his own best friend's wife. But...there are some pretty convincing rumors that he cared about the last redhead that came before you. Birkin rarely cares for anyone outside his family and Wesker. Though from what I heard he's fond of you for some reason!"

Claire rolled her eyes, but unfortunately, he wasn't finished.

"Mark my words, printsessa. If one falls, the other will. Especially Birkin. Wesker will probably recover, perhaps be driven more by his hatred without Birkin to keep it at bay. But Birkin...he'll absolutely lose it. I give him two weeks before he's falling apart, showing the monster he really is, and I wouldn't doubt he'll eat his own family alive if that happens."

"You make it sound like that's going to happen soon."

"Nah...just eventually. Everybody makes mistakes, even comrade Wesker. One day they may have to reap what they have sown. And if comrade Sergei gets his wish, we will see these two partners in crime turn on each other like dogs when push comes to shove, common goals be damned. Ultimately, they're only out for themselves. Their symbiosis will come to an end one day, that's inevitable."

A large laboratory-like room came upon their left, long windows allowing Claire and Nikolai to peer inside as they made their way to the automatic door further down. Claire noticed right away that the Birkins were bickering over something near a large computer screen. Wesker was on the opposite side of the room on the phone, fingers on his other ear as if to tune his coworkers out. He was facing the window and so noticed them right away. Claire could tell by how his naked eyes caught them and he smirked.

But a surprise addition she wasn't expecting was Sherry. The little girl held up a piece of paper, trying to get her parents' attention. She went unnoticed…

When the automatic door slid open to let Claire and Nikolai into the room, Sherry was the only Birkin to notice. She looked over her shoulder with startled eyes. She barely looked at them, Claire didn't even have time to wave at her, before she spun and raced across the room. And just like the younger Redfield saw before, the child took refuge behind the monster that had Claire by a tight leash.

The first thing Claire thought was that it was sad that a young girl felt she had to retreat across a large room to take cover behind her godfather when she had been right beside her parents…Worst yet, her parents continued on, unaffected that their child ditched them to hide behind someone else and barely noticed the arrival of company.

Wesker held up a finger to tell them he would be with them momentarily. Sherry peeked her head out from behind him and instantly brightened when she recognized Claire. She came out of her "safe zone" and over to Claire, careful to avoid getting near Nikolai or looking at him.

"Hi, Claire!"

Claire greeted her with a bright, positive smile. "Hello, Sherry!"

The young girl barely allowed her to finish before hugging her tightly around the waist. Taken aback at first, the college student returned the hug and rubbed Sherry's head.

"You look so cute today! I love that outfit."

Sherry grinned. "Thanks. Look what I drew!" And held up the same paper she had presented to her parents.

Claire was expecting a random doodle kids Sherry's age often produced, with their colorful imagination. She gasped at what she was shown. It was really good. Like really good. Probably better than Claire could ever draw. It was a cat dozing on a tree limb, all sketched in pencil and shaded.

"Wow, Sherry! This is really good!"

"You think?" Birkin's little girl wondered with a blush, nervously rocking back and forth on her heels.

"Seriously, I need to take some pointers from you. Did you have a picture to look at or something?"

Sherry shook her head. "No, just saw a cat doing that on my way to school this morning and drew it from memory."

This girl had a photogenic memory apparently. That didn't surprise Claire, the young girl already acted like she was quite intelligent for her age. She looked and acted like her father a lot, and must have gotten both of her parents' gifted smarts.

"That's incredible, Sherry. I love it."

Sherry blushed even deeper, but didn't have time to say anything before Nikolai butted in shamelessly, bending down, hands on his knees to get to her level, his toothy grin making the young girl nervous.

"Ah, aren't you a clever and talented little devushka! Taking right after mama and papa! Such a bright future ahead of you!"

Claire glared at the asshole and was about to give him a piece of her mind, protecting Sherry, when a dark, tall figure stepped directly in between Nikolai and Sherry. Sherry instantly looked relieved, and clinged to her familiar wall. Nikolai slowly stood up straight, unfazed by the glare that would have incinerated most men.

Wesker didn't even have to say anything. Nikolai put up his hands in fake submission, and Claire was sure this man wasn't afraid of anything since he didn't even bat an eye to the scariest person in the room.

"Oh, forgive me, comrade. I have overstepped boundaries. I meant no harm."

"Yes, you did, you fucking asshole," Claire snapped.

Nikolai chuckled, but kept his attention on his employer. "Your lyubovnik is bold. I can see why you like her so much, comrade. Should've seen how she handled 'ol Lowery when he attacked her."

The Birkins had stopped bickering and came over to get in on the conversation at hand. And even with them being nearby, Sherry remained behind her "uncle".

Wesker's lip barely curled at Nikolai's gibe. "And where is Dr. Lowery now? Was he...taken care of?"

Claire was sure he said that in such a way just for the sake of Sherry, and that surprised her.

"Forgive me, but your...request was outbid by best friend."

Wesker glared William's way, but the eccentric researcher just fist pumped like an excited kid. "Yes!"

Nikolai chuckled. "After all, no one knows the value of human life quite like Dr. Birkin."

"Of course they don't! I mean I am a doctor, after all!" William snorted and ruffled Sherry's hair, getting her to giggle. "Relax, Al! I'll take good care of our guest! Thanks, Nikky!"

"I'm sure you will," Wesker stated as William left the laboratory, on a mission. Under William's delighted smile and hums as he left, Claire fleetingly noticed tiny traces of something dark, something ruthless. And she understood Lowery would never be seen again.

Wesker turned to Nikolai and Annette after his partner had gone. "Nikolai, I'll escort you out. We have much to discuss. Anne, dear, please keep Miss Redfield comfortable until I return."

Annette sighed. "What am I now, your babysitter? Come on, Albert...I have enough to do as it is, I'm behind schedule even without having to take care of your…," She gave Claire an unreadable glance, "...guest."

Sherry's mother turned and went back to her project at one corner of the room, where she and William had been bickering earlier, busying herself with whatever was displayed on the computer's monitor. Claire glared at her back. This woman was something else! When first meeting with Claire she seemed curious, albeit a little skeptical, and gave Claire advice on Wesker. Now this. Then again, Annette was always absorbed in her work to barely be concerned with her own child.

"Come along, comrade," Wesker mocked, motioning for the Russian mercenary to follow him.

But before he left, Nikolai had one last piece of advice to give Claire. "Remember printsessa...If you are going to dwell among wolves...you should howl like one."

He winked at her and left with that eerie grin on his face. Once it was just Claire, Sherry, and Annette, the tension in the room nearly dissipated completely. Sherry snatched Claire's hand and tried dragging her away from the exit.

"I don't see that man too often, but he's scary. C'mon, let's go sit in the break room, I have more drawings to show you!"

The college student hesitated at first, still confused over Nikolai's final advice. She shook it from her thoughts and allowed the young girl to guide her past her mother and into the little break room attached to the laboratory.

"Momma, me and Claire are gonna go draw in the break room, you should join us!"

"That's nice, sweetie," Annette mumbled while looking into a microscope.

Claire tightened the grip around Sherry's hand and stopped, glaring at Annette, but Sherry tugged on her. "It's okay, she's busy. Come on!"

It took all of her willpower to bite her tongue, only doing so because of Sherry. They went to the table and sat down. Sherry showed off her drawings in a sketchbook that was falling apart. Nearly all the pages were filled with her artwork, many loose and sticking out all over the place. The girl exuberantly showed off her illustrations. Claire was just as excited to see them all, and found joy that the young Birkin was out of her shell now.

"They're all so good. Sherry, you should become a professional artist when you grow up!"

Sherry beamed. "Really? Daddy says I'm gonna be a doctor like him some day. I want to do both. I want to help people like they do."

Claire smiled, hiding the worry from such a statement. "You are so smart and talented, you can do whatever you want to. I know it."

"Thank you, Claire!" The girl blushed with a sweet smile. Claire couldn't believe such a cute, sweet little girl could come from such horrible parents that let a psychopath raise her half the time. "I wish my parents showed as much interest in me as you. I mean, they do, just...I don't know. Sometimes they're just so absorbed in their work, that's all they know." Sherry frowned. "...or care about."

"Well, they aren't focusing on what's important then. I hope one day that they do."

Sherry nervously played with the crinkled corner of one of her artworks. "What are your parents like, Claire?"

The pain that ripped through her heart wasn't expected. Claire took a deep breath and smiled at the girl. "Well, I lost them when I was around your age. But...I remember my mom being...fearless. She wasn't afraid of anything, it seemed. She loved motorcycles. I got my love of motorcycles from her. My dad...he was patient and so much fun. He played guitar. He was teaching me before…"

Sherry was quiet for a long moment, and she grabbed Claire's hand and squeezed. "What...happened to them?"

"Car accident. It's weird...they were both special forces in the Air Force. Seemed invincible to me as a kid. And they were gone in a split second...just like that."

"Oh no! That's terrible! Were you all alone?"

"No...no. I have an older brother. He's a cop...he works with Wesker. He raised me with the help from some old family friends. We lost everything from our old home though."

"What, why? So you don't have anything from your parents?"

"My uncle...distant uncle, my mom's brother. He lives in Stone Ville. He got the house and all the belongings because my brother wasn't an adult at the time. And he never liked our father or us very much. So he took it away from us. Blamed our father for the accident."

Sherry's hands clamped over her mouth and nose in an instant, shocked by the heartlessness of Claire's uncle. "That's awful!" she mumbled from behind dainty fingers.

Claire half-shrugged, swallowing the resentment she still had for that family member. "Chris and I have come to terms with it. Most of it meant nothing to us anyway. He sold the house and most of the stuff a long time ago, but he keeps a few important things in storage. Some things we hope to get one day."

Sherry bit her lip. "Like what?"

"Pictures, mostly. My dad's guitar. My brother really wants their military medals. Me...there's just one picture I really want. It's my parents on my mom's red motorcycle, dressed in their military attire, before they had us. I remember adoring it as a kid. They looked like superheroes to me. But…"

"But what?"

Claire swallowed, ignoring the burn in her eyes. "I'm afraid I'm gonna forget what they look like one day. That picture gets more and more fuzzy as the years go by."

Sherry gasped and looked horrified, sad for her, staring up at her with big blue eyes. Claire cleared her throat, putting on a big smile. She got so caught up in her reminiscing that she made the girl just as sad she was. "Sorry. Hey, don't worry about it! It will all work out in the end. I know it!"

Sherry leaned in and hugged her close. "I hope so! Or else we can send Nikolai to scare him," the blond girl joked slyly, face crushed against her.

That tickled a snorted laugh out of the young Redfield. "Yeah, he better not tempt me! One more thing though...could you keep this between us?"

The last thing she needed was something else for Wesker to have over her head.

She pulled back with a small smile. "I promise! I sure would like to meet your brother one day. He must be strong and brave if he works with Uncle Albert!"

Claire wished she could understand the closeness she felt to this little girl after knowing her for such a short period. Maybe a little sister she never had, or a daughter perhaps that Claire would want one day.

"He is. He's the best."

Light knocking startled them both, and Claire's heart spun when she saw Wesker in the doorway of the breakroom. There was no door separating the rooms, and so she could only hope he hadn't been there long and overheard their conversation.

"Hi, Uncle Albert! Claire just told me that her brother works with you!"

The STARS Captain moved inside, a small smirk forming. He no longer sported the lab coat from earlier, but was still dressed exquisitely. "Yes, he does. He's one of my best men, actually."

"Oh, neat, are you guys friends?!"

"Best of friends," Wesker chuckled, although his ambiguous tone and smile was directed towards Claire.

"Even more than Daddy?" Sherry gasped.

Wesker's smile towards Sherry was a lot less menacing and he held out his arm. "Of course not, darling."

Sherry took his arm and squeaked in delight as he picked her up effortlessly out of the chair and let her dangle for a moment like a doll before setting her down on her feet.

"I see you were providing Claire with some pleasant company. Thank you, Sherry."

Wesker offered his hand with a sly smile, but Claire refused it. She stood up on her own with a defiant look that only made her captor's smirk grow.

"Of course, Uncle Albert! I just love having Claire come by to visit. Can't you bring her around more often? Please, pretty please?!"

"I'm sure we could work on that."

"Yay!" Sherry exclaimed, hugging Claire real quick before going over to the table to gather up her art supplies and sketchbook.

"Are you ready, dear heart?"

Claire hated that he said that pet name right in front of Sherry. As if she needed any more reasons to fantasize about them hooking up. "Ready for what?"

"We're leaving."

"W-Where?" she inwardly panicked.

"My personal quarters here in the facility. We have much to discuss."

Somewhere behind them, Sherry giggled into her hand and quickly hid her face behind her sketchbook to avoid being reprimanded for butting into their business. Wesker let it slide - for now.

Claire shook her head. "No, we can do that tomorrow. I have to get home to Chris. He'll be worried."

"He'll be fine," Wesker countered. "He's at the bar with friends, most notably Jill, which means he won't be home until late, or until nature takes its course between them. We wouldn't want to disrupt that now, would we?" He leered gleefully at her.

She glared at him, ignoring his comment about the possibility of any...lewd content...between her brother and Jill, even if she was very aware of the attraction between the two. But now was not the time nor place to be concerned over that.

"The sooner we get our "business" out of the way, the sooner you can go home."

It wasn't like she had a choice, no matter how much she fought him. Claire reluctantly agreed, for the sake of doing this quickly and getting it over with. But deep down, some strange, new instinct had awoken. She wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. She was certain going to Wesker's quarters with him alone would prove to be dangerous, bad, very bad. But this new instinct was okay with that, and it made her nerves tingle like she was high on drugs.

Wesker's private quarters within the NEST facility looked like a richy hotel room, only without a grand view of a beach or cityscape. The lights automatically kicked on when they entered. It was either hardly used or strictly kept up by a housekeeper. Immaculate. Expensive. There was a lounge area with leather sofas and a cherry wood table between them. The kitchen had expensive countertops and appliances, and even a bar. And from where she stood, Claire could see the open door that led into a large, dark bedroom.

"You should see William's quarters," Wesker stated after noticing her admiring the room. "It's nicer than his actual house. But he and Anne do practically live down here."

He took her parka from her and hung it up near the door. "Drink?" he offered, heading towards the bar. "I know I need one."

"Yeah," she mumbled, distracted, and then realized what she agreed to and glared at his back. "Only if I watch you pour it!"

"So suspicious," Wesker chuckled as he retrieved a couple of glasses and pulled out a bottle of wine from a fancy wine rack, checking the bottle over before pouring. "Trust me, if I do end up having to eliminate you, it will be a little more...exciting."

"Gee, thanks. That's totally increasing my trust in you."

He huffed a laugh and held out the glass full of a dark red liquid to her, clearly not fazed by her sarcastic comment in the least. Claire slowly took it from him and they sat down across from one another on the sofas. She gave in fast and took a sip. The redhead had been thirsty for quite a while. And a little peckish too, if she was being honest...espionage obviously made her hungry. You learn something new every day, she scoffed at herself silently. The wine was a rich merlot and it warmed her tongue and made her stomach fizzle.

"You do know you're contributing to a minor with this, right?"

"Well, I am an officer of the law. I'm quite aware of that."

"Are you sure you're an officer of the law?"

He shrugged, unimpressed, his steely grey eyes seemingly putting Claire more on edge than when he had his sunglasses on. "I have sundry jobs, if only you knew half of them. Then again, I would have to kill you if you did." Wesker smirked, unashamed.

Claire took a big gulp of her wine, either trying to settle her empty stomach or pacify her flurried nerves. "But mostly you're a corrupt cop by day and mad scientist by night. Got it."

His lips quirked in amusement. "You have me all figured out, apparently. And what about you, my dear?" There he went staking claim to her again. "Not so much a "good girl" yourself, hmm? The wine, for instance. If you're so offended by me serving you any, you could've just declined. I'm sure you're like any other college girl and drink plenty when big brother isn't watching."

Touché. She did go drinking and partying with her friends a lot. Without Chris knowing, of course.

"Yeah, so?" she challenged, and then balked, squeaking, "Please don't tell Chris!"

"Your secret is safe with me, dear heart."

Her heart did a weird flip that made her stomach feel warmer than the wine, and then she discerned it was time to get this meeting over with and get home as soon as possible.

"So, what is it you have to discuss with me, exactly? I'm sure it's too much to hope that you're finally setting me free?"

"It is. But do not fret yourself, my dear, you are making headway in our...agreement. I applaud you for your accomplishment tonight. No one else could have done it quite like you. I'm almost tempted to say...you're a natural."

"Thanks," Claire said dryly. "So, what about that doctor and other professor? What happens to them? Why hack into the hard drives of the university's research center?"

"Such questions are dangerous, Miss Redfield. You wish to get yourself deeper into this conspiracy? Best to leave it alone if you want to return to your normal life…"

She didn't say anything to that. He had a point, although it didn't make her feel any better about what kind of situation she had put these men in, whether they deserved it or not. Her being complicit in their (most probably) unpleasant fate somehow made her uneasy. Claire tried not to imagine what would await them now that their futures were at Wesker and Birkin's mercy...and would most likely be cut short.

"...unless you don't want to return to "normal"?" he smirked, a little too sanguine in his insinuation.

Claire avoided answering that, still upset over the fates of the two professors and the doctor. "Are those men bad like you?"

Wesker eyed her, sloshing around the little remains of wine in his glass. He stood, drinking the rest and then placing the glass on the table. He approached her, making her heart leap like a startled cat, and when he sat down beside her, she knew she was trapped.

"They make me look like a saint," he replied, placing his hand over his heart - or at least where it was supposed to be - in a gesture of mock sincerity. But she didn't believe him. "Trust me. They deserve whatever's coming to them."

"Yeah, right," she scoffed, and wanted to scoot away from him, but some kind of pull kept her frozen in place.

"Perhaps you should look in the mirror, dear heart. It's obvious by tonight's events that your "good girl" demeanor is merely a front to a more adventurous and daring version of yourself...the true Claire. The Claire your brother never sees or even suspects because he lives in his little bubble of self-righteousness. He would never guess that the real Claire hides from the world, afraid of judgement. His judgement. Afraid of being judged for who she really is and what she really wants. The Claire that I see when I look at you…"

He wasn't talking about her defiant and rebellious nature that everyone knew, and often associated as typical Redfield traits, but something darker. She immediately refuted it, glaring at him.

"I have no idea what you're talking about!" Although her defensive denial only made him smirk.

He's playing mind games with you. Ada and William warned you about this. Keep it together!

"I think you do," Wesker insisted. "I saw it the first time I laid eyes on you. You enjoyed being complicit tonight, the adrenaline rush, the danger, yes? The fact that you got away with it and, in a way, set up three cruel men to the fates they deserve. Satisfying, isn't it?"

His words hit too close to home. Claire could barely breathe, but stayed solid. Her heart pounded in her ear, she clenched her fingers on her thighs to where her knuckles turned white. Still, she glared at him, defying, but it was hard to keep his intense gaze.

"I didn't enjoy anything I did tonight. I did what I had to because you blackmailed me!"

Her instincts were all over the place. Some of them told her to get out of there. To move away from him, but the others told her to stay, to continue challenging him. But there was no winning either way. He was manipulating her and despite her best efforts it was working, but, in a way, she also knew he was telling the truth.

"Irrelevant," Wesker dismissed her protest. "You still went through with it. You can deny it all you want, but I see right through it. You take pleasure walking the line of morality. And lying to yourself is both pointless and a waste of time. I know you better than you think. I can read you like a book, Claire...although admittedly a riveting one."

She hated how pragmatic he was, but mostly abhorred how right he was.

Okay, so what if she did have a little fun tonight? So what if slinking around, danger at every corner, was a little thrilling to her? Was that so bad? It certainly contributed to her rebellious nature, but that didn't make her bad. That didn't make them alike, no matter what he seemed to think he knew of her.

Don't do it. Don't give him what he wants.

"Even if you were right...which you aren't," Claire retorted, and then inwardly facepalmed, because that wasn't blatantly obvious that she fell for his trap. "What exactly are you trying to get out of me?"

"Nothing much...except that I want you to stop fooling yourself. You might as well be on the same side as me. You, Claire, are a thrill seeker. You love the adrenaline of doing forbidden things, feeding off those thrills and any power or advantage you gain from them. Not all that different from me. Your excuses for not going after what you really want in life are threadbare at best…You have the potential to take whatever you want if you would just let go of your fruitless morals."

Her conscience came through in Wesker's spell of smoke and mirrors, and she shot to her feet. So fast, her head spun for a moment, the light burn of the wine she had drank sizzling in her gut.

"You know nothing about what I want. This conversation is over," Claire ordered. "We're done here."

Wesker sighed, pushing himself out of his seat, seemingly unaffected that she desperately tried to flee his influence. "If you insist. But you won't be able to run from the truth forever. Sooner or later, you'll see that I'm right."

Claire chewed on her lip, this strange mix of dread and excitement making her woozy. She wanted it to go away, but she had a feeling it was about to get a lot worse.

The STARS leader returned to her with her parka in hand, holding it as she slipped into it. He leaned in close as she got dressed, murmuring into her ear, "But I think you're wrong...I think I do have a pretty good idea of what you want, Claire...you're merely postponing the inevitable."

His hands held her shoulders as Claire stood there with her back to him, petrified at being called out. No, he's lying. He's setting you up, don't listen to him!

Okay, maybe he did have a pretty good reading on her, she finally had to admit to herself. But she wasn't about to admit it to him. No! Never!

The narcissistic asshole rubbed his hand down her spine, smoothing out the wrinkles of her parka. The electric spark that ignited every fiber of her body made Claire spin around and face him directly.

The younger Redfield was aware of what would happen if she wasn't careful. He had done exactly what she had been warned about, using her defiance and denial against her to seduce her. She felt so exposed to how easily he had read her, when she couldn't even admit it herself.

Wesker opened the door for her, but there was an underlying challenge there in his show of chivalry. "After you, dear heart."

Claire told herself there were two choices here. If she walked out that door, nothing would happen. She would be returned home to her brother. But maybe she would only be "postponing the inevitable", like he said…

But her own bravado wouldn't let her walk out that door. Wesker led her right into a standoff of power he knew she wouldn't back down to.

It was one thing to dwell among this vicious pack of wolves and howl with them like Nikolai had advised. It was another to mess around with the Alpha.

Her heart may have been beating on her ribs, but she wasn't about to give into him lying down. She had one last act of defiance up her sleeve that she hoped would wipe that smirk off his face, since her obvious hesitation told him he had her right where he wanted her.

How much worse can it get anyway? Fuck it!

The redhead pushed herself onto her tip toes and kissed him. She was so determined to spite him and gain some kind of control, she didn't care what kind of fire she had just started. And what did they say? If you play with fire, you're going to get burned.

When her brother's corrupt boss slammed that door shut after returning her reckless kiss, Claire knew she would get burned tonight. But if the smoldering in her chest and thighs were any indication, she wasn't at all concerned. Even her initial irritation at him for not being taken off guard by her initiation - had he been expecting this after all?! - was soon forgotten.

What Claire quickly learned was that he was a great kisser. The taste of the merlot was on their lips, fuel for their fervent kissing. Her hands squeezed his shirt, tugging him closer.

Just as she was cursing his height, one strong arm wrapped around her lower back and picked her up. Effortlessly. Like she was a pillow. She squeaked in surprise, having never been picked up like that before. Her legs, through no control of her own, instantly wrapped around his waist.

He walked somewhere, but Claire couldn't determine where while they smacked lips. She felt drunk, but she hadn't ingested that much wine. Eager to taste more of it on him, she pushed for entry into his mouth with her tongue.

Wesker did allow her entry for a few precious seconds before he dropped her on something soft. A quick glance as her fingers found their way under his shirt determined it was the back of one of the leather sofas, which allowed her to be closer to his height sitting down while he remained standing.

"For someone so determined to stay in denial, you sure are eager," Wesker teased.

"Shut up!"

His smirk infuriated her as he dipped lower to suck on her neck. Claire tried pushing him away but it was like trying to move a brick wall. "No marks where Chris can see!"

He seized her ponytail and tugged hard, and Claire figured he was about to reprimand her. She hissed, but soon her hair fell down all around her face. He kissed her throat, and although his hands explored, he kept her steady on the furniture.

He kissed her ear, and Claire was certain he would tell her that it wasn't his problem if he left marks on her.

"Don't worry, dear heart. It's our little secret." Wow. She was surprised he was being considerate of her wishes. Or maybe he just liked being clandestine. "No promises for next time though." Never mind.

"There won't be a next time," she claimed.

The STARS Captain didn't reply to that, although his lips quirked upward, blatantly cocky. Instead, he claimed her lips again, giving her a tongue lashing of a different kind.

Claire kept her legs clamped around his waist, helping her keep balance as they kissed and sucked and explored. She soon became quite aware of the growing bulge pinching into her thigh.

He pushed on her, as if instinct told him to pin her down onto the nonexistent floor. If she leaned any further back, she'd fall onto the cushions.

Wesker quickly grew tired of bothersome clothes. He ripped her shirt off and tossed it aside. Claire had already long discarded her stuffy parka.

When she tugged on his nice, black shirt to be tossed, he obliged without hesitation. Claire stared, her hands eagerly roaming over his muscular torso and arms. He was ripped! He made the few college guys she messed around with look like weaklings, and they were jocks.

"Like what you see?"

The part time spy could only nod, throat suddenly dry. She expected him to come back with a highly conceited reply, but he spared her once more.

"Good. So do I."

About that time, an experienced flick of his hand popped her bra strap. Her bra fell to the floor. Claire removed her hands from exploring Wesker's chiseled chest in the midst of a deep kiss to cover herself. Her wrists were snatched before she could do so.

"No more hiding...no more games," he ordered.

His hands stroked up and down her sides, over the peaks of her breasts and fondling them. His rough kisses skimmed from her lips, down her throat to her nipples, driving her mad. The younger Redfield's chest felt like her ribs would shatter any second from her heart. Heat pooled between her legs, her nerves sparked at every ending.

Wesker claimed one perky breast in his mouth, one muscular arm curled around her back, arched from the swirls and patterns from his tongue. Claire grazed a hand through his gelled hair, pushing her crotch into the hardened mass cradled in her thigh. It was so big she didn't understand how he could stand it still being confined.

A few grinds against his at attention member with her groin and he half growled, half groaned and released her breast from his teeth.

"You're awfully bold. Just remember it isn't a good idea to start what you cannot finish."

Another challenge. He knew just how to push her buttons. And that was exactly how she got into this situation, giving him exactly what he wanted.

"It's not my first time. Now, you gonna get this show on the road or what?" Claire hoped he didn't see through her false bravado and thinly veiled attempt at glossing over her nerves.

Besides, it may not have been her first time having sex, she'd done it a few times with college guys she knew, but Wesker was a whole different level than them. She was intimidated, but did all in her power to hide it.

"As you wish," he snickered. Yep, he saw right through her defense.

He leaned in, kissing her a few times on the lips, and just as Claire was relaxing, he bent and bit the side of one breast. She gasped, eyes shooting open and next thing she knew he pulled her off the couch to stand.

"Undress. Now." The authority in his voice both irked and aroused her.

She obeyed...stubbornly. Claire took her time sliding out of her pants and panties after kicking off her boots. It was hard to do with his eyes on her, head slightly cocking as he enjoyed every second of it. Why did he have to have such daunting and beautiful eyes?

Quietly, he admired her curves and athletic body. He must have sensed her incoming sarcastic comment on his silence because just as she opened her mouth, he kissed it right off her lips. One hand closed dangerously around her throat just before he shoved one knee in between her legs. He hoisted her right back up on top of the sofa, like she weighed nothing again.

It did little to interrupt their make out session. Wesker's hands were a strange mix of rough and smooth, and petting over her silky skin, it roused every little inch in goosebumps. She could feel the power in those hands, strong enough to kill her without much effort if he wanted to.

The fact that Wesker was so dangerous only fed Claire's libido. Besides it all being wrong and forbidden on so many levels, he was a very attractive man, megalomania aside. The college guys, or boys she might as well admit, she could've beaten to a pulp if she wanted to. Her brother's boss was the ultimate dominant male with a killer twist.

His hands retracted from her body, disappointing her until she heard the clinking of his belt buckle. Her pulse quickened at that and then skyrocketed when she heard his pants unzip.

Wesker slid her hindquarters out from the couch, balancing her on the back of the couch to the curve of her back. Her legs had retained their hold on his waist, but she held onto the cushions for dear life when he began kissing her breasts and stomach, slowly heading south. His hands caressed around her hips and squeezed her buttocks.

"Not to worry, Claire, I won't be dropping my prize anytime soon."

She wasn't worried about being dropped though. Strangely enough, she was used to his mocking tone by now that she knew it was his very own, if somewhat odd, way of reassuring her, even if he was bragging in the process.

He pulled out of her legs just far enough so he could kiss her pelvis and thighs. One hand spread her legs open a bit more, the touch as electrifying as a lightning storm. She was plenty wet now, could feel it lubricating her inner canal and vulva, preparing for an invasion.

Wesker tested with one finger, rubbing her clit in a soft circle before entering it inside her. He smiled into her abdomen as he sucked below her belly button. The second finger insertion caused her to groan louder than she cared to admit.

"How many partners have you had?" he asked. He sounded generally curious, and not at all mocking as he usually was.

Why did he care?

"T-Two." It was hard to concentrate with his sharp kisses in between her legs. "Why does it matter?"

He chuckled. "It won't after tonight."

What the hell does he mean by that?

The younger Redfield had no time to come up with a remark before his mouth took her pussy. She gasped, death gripping the couch cushions, letting the stimulating euphoria from her core spread through her body like a wildfire.

Her captor kissed and sucked on her clit, tongue rolling and sliding in marvelous patterns. Her previous partners never did this, only concerned with getting off themselves. Pressure continuously built as he lathered her with his tongue. Breathing became labored, her heartbeat was incredibly loud in her ears. Her legs wringed under him and she whined his name just as it became too much, on the verge of losing it.

But he stopped then, denying her right at the brink and she cursed under her breath, the high crashing from her brain and flustering her.

"Oh, did I stop too soon, Claire?" he teased. To provoke her further he rubbed his thumb over her wet opening and up over her clit and she involuntarily bucked from both anticipation and frustration.

"Sadistic asshole," she growled.

He didn't deny her insult, and probably would have agreed with her if he hadn't pushed himself over her and forcefully took her lips again. Her aggravation was soon forgotten as their kissing quickly became feverish and fierce. She let go of the sofa and let her hands explore his toned build. Her juices swapped between their lips and, really, that wasn't as bad as she thought it was going to be.

Claire slipped her hands down his exposed briefs to get her hands full. And she really did get a handful. He was way bigger than the last two. His rock hard member was at full attention in her hands, and Wesker softly groaned while kissing her jugular.

He must have sensed her trepidation though because he rose slightly, whispering into her ear. "Don't tell me you're losing your nerve just when it's getting interesting."

"N-No!" she snapped, his words perfectly rejumpstarting her resolution.

He kissed her jaw. "Then how about you finally admit to me what you really want? What I know you want…?"

A breath hitched in her throat. Claire couldn't admit it. She refused to! His mind games continued to torture her, but deep down she realized there was no hiding it. The secret was out...

"You…"

Wesker smirked. "Good girl."

Claire freed his cock from the confines of his pants. It was thick and long with a bulbous tip. The blood-filled flesh solid and ready. Quite ready.

Wesker grabbed her wrists and moved them away, sliding her legs out from the couch just a bit further. Claire gripped the couch again, her legs snaking around his waist, pulse palpitating in anticipation of what was about to happen.

Her lower back dug into the top of the couch when he bent over her again, but she didn't care. She wondered how it would feel with his whole weight on top of her. His kiss was potent, dizzying, like a shot of strong liquor.

The redhead's proverbial fiery attitude and impatient nature got the better of her, and she huffed, "I'm waiting," as she shivered, feeling his tip at her entrance.

"Good things come to those who wait," came his smug reply, his amusement apparent in his teasing undertone.

He penetrated her in one strong push, stretching and filling her all at once. Claire hissed at the pain at first, but it soon ebbed. Wesker gave her a moment to get used to him before he started rocking her. Slowly and steadily at first.

Claire's arms snaked around his back, stabilizing herself as her body see-sawed over the couch in each of his thrusts. He had a near death-grip on her hips; he wouldn't drop her.

She groaned into his claiming lips, each kiss seemingly getting more and more possessive and zealous, in league with each buck of his hips that grew stronger and faster. His dick glided in and out, covered in her juices and his pre-cum. Each time their pelvises connected, the tip of his cock rammed her cervix.

Claire moaned, the sweet, itchy pressure returning from within her canal, building at each of Wesker's powerful strokes. She squeezed her thighs around him tighter, fingers clenching into his muscular back. He returned her mewling and restlessness underneath him with a low groan, lifting her hips slightly for deeper access.

"I want to hear my name when you cum," he growled.

Several hard, deep thrusts later and the pressure blew, igniting her nerves, a drug-like high overcoming her senses as her body wracked and wringed in pure bliss. He kept pounding into her, even as she howled his name in drunk rapture. Her nails cut deep into his back as her whole body pulsated. She didn't have time to inhale precious air from her loud moans before Wesker silenced her completely with another dominating kiss.

His next few thrusts were erratic but even more penetrating, stretching her, preparing her body for his hazmat. Hot jets of Wesker's cum disgorged into her, coating her walls, filling her to the brim, almost sending her over the edge with another climax.

His slowing thrusts finally came to a stop, and all that could be heard was Claire's panting and Wesker's satisfied huff that warmed her throat. They stayed where they were for a moment, coming down off their ecstasy. Wesker still held Claire up, which was good because her limbs were useless now.

Wesker slowly, and dare she think reluctantly, pulled out of her. He picked her up off the couch and sat her on her own two feet, holding her steady. It gave her an odd, warm, fuzzy feeling to realize that he was waiting for her legs to be working properly again before he let go of her, preventing her from embarrassing herself by faceplanting right before his eyes after he turned her legs into overcooked spaghetti by the grace of his magic tongue and dick.

Huh. It's almost like he cares. Oh, who am I kidding...

He left her side long enough to get them some towels from the nearby kitchen. Claire took one gratefully and wiped up the mess between her legs. Wesker cleaned himself off and rebuckled his pants and slipped his shirt back on, watching Claire slowly and wobbly get dressed. There was no telling where her hair tie went. Her red-brown tresses would have to remain down for now.

Coming down off the high from the erotic encounter, Claire almost felt in shock of what exactly happened. She had just had sex with her brother's boss, the corrupt Captain of STARS, one of Raccoon City's most prominent men.

The younger Redfield was firstly ashamed of giving into him, letting him manipulate her right where he wanted her. She felt guilty doing that to Chris, especially in the middle of trying to protect him.

But at the same time...she was strangely intoxicated and satisfied with it. Sex with Wesker was a completely different experience than her previous, inexperienced partners. Addicting and alluring, and by far more gratifying. The thrill and danger from such an immoral coupling only confirmed that Wesker had been right about what she hid away.

That still didn't make her a bad person...right? Not like Wesker, anyway. Not like the rest of the wolves.

Her inner turmoil was only interrupted when Wesker picked up her parka and dusted it off, not that it got dirty laying on the super clean floor. He didn't offer it to her just yet, the two of them staring at each other in silence. Claire felt that Wesker was waiting for something, but she had no clue on what.

"And here I thought you would have something obstinate to say," he finally said with a smirk that was a bit less satirical than usual. "Trying to defend your recent questionable lapse in judgement, I'm sure. Strange, I only get silence."

She glared at him. "This," she motioned between them, "makes me nothing like you. And don't even think for a second it will make me help you hurt or kill innocent people. You might be a little right about the thrill-seeking, but that's it."

"It's liberating when you're honest with yourself, isn't it? More so, it's sensible," he countered. "In contrast to what you might believe, I don't purposely seek out people to hurt or kill, and they're rarely ever innocent. I only do so when they're in my way, it's convenient, or if I need to make a point." He stepped behind her and put her coat on for her. "The three men you helped me gain control over this evening, however, do, very much so. Do not worry yourself over their fates. They're well deserved, I assure you. Believe it or not, I am the lesser of two evils...this time. Now, any other self-justifying proclamations you wish to share?"

This guy was a real piece of work. She bit her tongue. "No."

He sighed, checking his watch. "Well, dear heart, I should get you home. It is getting late. Big brother will be back soon. Pity. Follow me."

He wrapped his arm around her lower back, urging her along towards the door. Her stomach flipped, the nerves in her back shivering delightfully. And she gulped on the inside, realizing her body would now naturally respond to him. She had unwittingly put herself in a much more dangerous situation because of her own stubbornness.

She only prayed Chris would never find out.

[spectraspecs-writes]

Tatooine - Chapter 108

Link to the masterpost. Chapter 107. Chapter 109.

@averruncusho @ceruleanrainblues @chubbsmomma @strangepostmiracle thank you for reading, you get a tag. @skelelexiunderlord thank you for support, you get a tag.

——–

I find myself waking up early, far earlier than I meant. But then I’m amazed I got to sleep at all, or even stayed asleep. The nightmares were awful, but I couldn’t wake up. I felt like I was being suffocated by that mask but I couldn’t pull it off. Revan’s mask. My mask. No. No. Revan’s mask. Because I’m not Revan, I don’t know what she knows, she doesn’t know what I know. Or knew - what she knew. I’m a scout. Revan was a killer. A murder. A Sith Lord. I’m not Revan. I’m not.

T3 stayed with me the whole night after Carth changed our course. And the engine isn’t making any noise, so I guess we’re here. Tatooine.

And it’s morning. I suppose I should go check, shouldn’t I?

The cockpit is empty. Carth’s not there. He’s not in the main hold, either. And I don’t sense him in the port side quarters. I guess he left. Not that I blame him.

I’ve got to get out of here. But not like this. Not these robes. This isn’t me. I’m not a Jedi, I’m a scout. And out there is a world I haven't explored. All I looked for was the Star Map. All I cared about was the Star Map. But this is not a dead world. Not even a desert is dead. Where there is life, there is water, and where there is water, there is life. That’s one of the first things you learn as a scout.

But did I even learn it? If I’m Revan, then…

No. No.

A Jedi robe does not a good scouting outfit make. The copious lack of pockets alone makes it a poor choice. I tie up my hair so it’s off my neck, and pull out a soft white tunic. And my vest. I’m torn between shorts for the heat and pants to fight the sand, but I eventually settle on a loose pair of pants and sturdy boots. I keep only a single lightsaber in my pack, opting for my swords instead. I’m not a Jedi. I'm a scout. A lightsaber is a weapon. A sword is a tool, far more versatile in use. I have my sunglasses. Now all I need is my droid. T3 doesn’t need much prompting. Like he doesn’t want to leave my side.

Much as I hate it, Czerka is the only game in town. They’re the only ones sending people into the desert. I could go alone, but that’s not a good idea. The clients always have insurance if something happens - it’s in your contract. They pay for whatever you find, even if all you find is pain. You never go out alone. I need to be myself, even if that means taking one job with Czerka.

This is good. I missed this. Missed my vest. Missed myself. But it isn’t myself, is it? Who the hell even am I? I remember being a Republic scout, I remember turning over rocks, discovering insects I’d never seen before. Watching eggs hatch and documenting what I saw. Seeing lemurs hang from trees by prehensile tails. Leaves no one had ever seen, trees no one had ever seen! I remember finding a hot springs on Utapau! Spending the nights on the rocks while we analyzed water quality, microbial landscapes, geological makeup, or just plain swimming! Are those memories even real? Do those insects even exist? Those eggs, those lemurs, those leaves, those trees? Is there a hot springs on Utapau? Where did the data come from? What was real?

But I know. Whether any of that was real or not, anything I see today, anything I find today will be real. Anyone I meet today will be real. My memories here will be real. Maybe I wasn’t a scout before. But I will be today.

I step into the Czerka office - the same representative is there from the last time. “Greetings from the offices of Czerka Corporation.” The disgust I feel is thankfully different than the disgust I’ve been feeling for myself. “How can I help you?”

I pull up my Republic file, my fake scouting record. Doesn’t feel fake. “I’m a scout,” I say, “with a specialty in ecology and droid repair. Do you have any expeditions going out?”

She hums a bit, reading over my record. “According to this, the Republic holds your contract. Czerka corporation has no interest in any legal disputes with the Republic.”

“You won’t have to worry about that,” I assure her, “The Republic violated my contract, and the mission I was on came to an abrupt end when the Sith destroyed the ship I was on.

She hums again. “I suppose that is a risk when your employer is at war.” Tell me about it. “For long-term employment, however, you would have to fill out an application with Czerka headquarters. Business hours only, please.”

“I’m not looking for long-term contract negotiation,” I say, “This is just for a one-off freelance gig.”

“I don’t think our teams would have much use for an ecologist,” she says, looking back at my file, “but I am interested in your technical skills.” Better than nothing, I guess. “Our mining teams have had difficulty keeping the machinery functioning. As I’m sure you know, sand has a tendency to interfere with machinery. How soon would you be able to start?”

“I’m willing to head out now,” I say, “What’s the pay rate?”

“When you return at the end of the day, you will receive 150 credits.” She transfers a file to my datapad. “This is a standard contract. It stipulates that Czerka corporation is not liable for any harm sustained on the Dunes. Any disputes you may have with Czerka Corporation will be settled through binding arbitration. When you return to this office you will receive 150 credits in exchange for your work.” I don’t expect any problems, nothing I can’t deal with. And despite what she says, you can’t absolve yourself of all liability when you send out scouting teams. It’s been galactic law for the past two hundred years or so and there are scouting organizations who take it very seriously. Czerka tries to skirt the law but it never lasts. Scouts who know what they’re doing hold them to it, or threaten to call in the authorities. And Czerka tries to keep all that on the down-low, paying off officials, making donations, counting on the ignorance of the people signing the contracts. If I was doing anything other than a one-off gig… well, actually, you should just shoot me if this was anything other than a one-off gig. But anyway, if it were anything but that, I’d get into it myself. No one is expendable and they can’t pretend to be ignorant of the hell they’d catch if they tried to say otherwise. Even so, I sign the contract but I’m not even sure it’s legally binding. Rena Visz doesn’t exist. I’d have to sign Revan’s name but I don’t know what it is.

Nope. Nope. Nope, I don’t want to think about that.

“Excellent,” she says as I transfer the signed contract back, “There's a speeder outside - input your datapad and it’ll direct you to a set of coordinates. You’ll meet one of our mining teams there.”

And that’s that. I load T3 into the pilot’s side of the speeder and input my datapad, like she said, and off we go, onto the Dune Sea. The speeder takes us past the Czerka marker points, past even the Star Map. I can feel it calling out to me as we pass it. And it feels different, so different, from how it felt… oh God, it was barely last week. It felt like such a long time, so much has happened. I met Jolee, Bastila and Canderous got together, Kashyyyk was liberated, Carth’s son, Carth… Carth! That happened! That happened two days ago! And now… he probably hates me now. And I can’t say I blame him. If T3 wasn’t driving, I would have stopped. Because its call is so loud, so strong. And I can’t tell if it’s calling for Rena or Revan. But T3 drives on, and with distance the call fades. It doesn’t go away but it fades.

The speeder pulls up to a cave and slows to a stop. The sand is different out here. Still sand, of course, and a very fine sand, at that, but it’s dirty,. Soot and smoke from the machines. Polluted. To think what this sand could have given with care. Something like this doesn’t happen naturally. There’s nothing I could do about the state of this world now. As if anyone would listen to me if I could. Not even the Sand People, I think - they would surely feel the same way, but I can never know the same as they do. They should be the ones to rehabilitate the planet. I am only another outsider with an opinion. And besides, this is a stable state now, any massive changes, if not done slowly and carefully, could just as easily land the world in a worse state as it could a better one. And it’s not my place.

I have to assume it’s the site foreman who comes up to me. I get T3 out of the speeder. “You the Czerka droid tech?” he asks.

“Droid tech, yes, Czerka, no, but suffice it to say I’m here to help,” I say.

He chuckles. “You hate the bastards, too, huh?” he asks rhetorically, and I shrug and nod. “I don’t know why we're still out here, the ore’s no good, and the machines hardly work with all the sand. You’ve got your work cut out for you with fixing.”

“I’m hoping for it,” I say, “in fact, I’ve got something that should make everything easier.”

“What? You’ve got a way to teleport us off this rock?”

“I wish,” I say. I set my pack down on the speeder and open it. I’ve got an old shirt in here. “The machines stop working because sand gets into the vents and clogs with the gears and the works. Close off the vents and the machine overheats, but leave them open and the sand gets in and they’re useless.” There’s the shirt. “So what you need is a way to keep the sand out and prevent overheating. And we’re gonna do it the same way the animals do.”

“But that fabric will hold the heat in,” he objects.

I scoff. “Yeah,” I say sarcastically, “because I’m stupid.” I indicate T3. “Check out his vents - does he look like he’s overheating?”

He stoops to look. Sees the fabric under the vents, and around the joints. “I don’t believe this.”

“Then watch me. Got a machine down?”

He indicated a machine near the mouth of the cave. “Just pulled it out a little while ago. Started sputtering and smoking. We’re down to just one - if that one craps out, we’re stuck mining by hand.”

Easy enough. “T3, help me get this open.” T3 has a laser cutter, and he carefully lasers off the seal on the large access panel. I can pop it open with my panel tool once the seal’s off. Tool, panel, open - yep, the wires are loaded with sand. I shut the vents off, because the first step is to get the sand out, and I don’t want it getting to other parts of the machinery. Too big to tip over and dump out, so I get in and sweep.

This is a good feeling. I can do something with this, and the machine won’t care who I am or what I’ve done. Won’t care that I had no idea who I was when I woke up this morning and I still don’t. Won’t care that I can’t help but hate myself for atrocities I don’t even remember committing. Won’t care that I have two people in my head, two sets of memories even if I can’t access one set, and no way to reconcile them. Because I can fix this. And even better? Revan can’t take this away from me. Because I invented sand shields, not Revan.

Okay. Sand’s all out. I tear the fabric to a more reasonable size, popping the panel closed with my foot and T3 welds it shut again. The vent should be… there we go. Doing this outside could prove a little tricky, more sand could get in while I’m putting the cover on. Quick work is needed. I pull my vest off and use it to cover the majority of the vent, except for the bolts, which I set to work getting off. Once the bolts are off, I quickly whisk the vent cover off and put the fabric in its place. Then I put the cover back on, and replace the bolts. “That should be good for most of the time. It might need replacing after a sandstorm, but as you could see it wasn’t that difficult to do,” I say to the foreman, “And this is more basic that what T3 has, but like I said. It gets the job done.”

Still skeptical, the foreman turns the machine on. With a healthy whir it comes to life. He comes around to the vent and holds his hand in front of it. Waiting. A few seconds later, he looks at me, then back, then me, then back again. “I can feel air coming out,” he says simply, surprised, “This… but it’s so simple! But it works!” He turns the machine back off. “This could solve half our problems. This is great. Did you come up with this?”

Yes, as a matter of fact, I… wait.

I… I remember.

No.

“The sandstorms aren’t the worst of it, Master Jedi.” Someone said that. A long time ago. “It’s the sand. It chokes out the machinery. Our engineers tell us there’s nothing they can do to stop it, but it’s leaving us like sitting ducks out there.”

“And the Mandalorians don’t have the same problems?” That’s me. That’s my voice. But… not me. No.

“Not that we’ve seen, though damned if we know why.”

“Maybe they’re using a different power source,” Hanna said. Who’s Hanna? She was my best friend, but who was she? I don’t know. I don’t know.

But a thought struck me. I don't know why or how. But it came to me. Revan. Me. Revan. She pulled her robe off and tore it. “The insides of the machines are sealed up tight, with no way in or out. Except the vents.” She pulled out her lightsaber. Green one. Held it on the metal, where it met the fabric. The metal melted and fused with the fabric, and when she removed her lightsaber it cooled and the fabric stayed. Sand shields. The very first sand shields. And she must have refined the process… because that looks exactly the same as the sand shields on Hk-47. Revan built HK. I built HK.

“No,” I finally say, “I didn’t.” Because she took it from me. Revan took this from me. That was my accomplishment, something that I did, something I achieved and she took it from me. My stomach turns. This is going to be the rest of my life - every single thing I’ve ever done, every good thing that’s ever happened to me, poisoned by Revan. I’ve done nothing. Revan has. Nothing good ever happened to me. It happened to Revan. Carth was the only good thing and Revan spoiled that too. I can’t have anything. Revan will only take it away.

I don't feel so good.

I fall to my knees and retch into the sand. I can’t stop it. Everything hurts. Everything burns. “Get some water!” the foreman shouts, “She’s got sun sickness!”

“It’s not sun sickness,” I manage to say, forcing the words out.

“I’m not willing to take that chance,” he says, “I’ve lost more than a few miners to sun sickness, I’m not about to risk another.”

“I’ll be fine,” I repeat, “It’s not sun sickness, I’m positive.”

“Oh, yeah, doctor?” he says sarcastically, “Then what else could it be?”

Well… there really is no way to tell a perfect stranger you used to be a Sith Lord and it’s destroying your life. So I shake my head a bit. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

He doesn’t believe me. He hands me some water. “Drink this slowly. And let’s get you back to Anchorhead.”

“You send all your miners back to Anchorhead when this happens?”

“You’re not one of my miners. You’re from the company, and in their eyes you matter more than these miners.” T3 gets loaded into the speeder first, then the foreman helps me in. Makes me feel even more like shit now - not only did Revan take sand shields away from me, she’s taking away what could have been a good day’s work. I wasn't even out here for an hour!

I try my hardest not to cry. No one would get it anyway, and I’d just come off as a pitiful little girl. Because it turns out none of my memories of dealing with that are real and I have no idea how Revan would have dealt with that. Because it turns out that at heart I’m a terrible person even though I don’t want to be.

“I know it doesn't seem like it,” the foreman says, “but you did a lot of good today. Those machines are a lifesaver for my miners. If even just one of them keeps working because of this, you’ve saved us a lot of pain.”

Maybe so. But none of that makes up for all the pain Revan caused. There is a massive debt of blood owed that Revan accrued, that I could hardly begin to pay back. I've already, personally, accrued a debt, but it was easy to justify - I was trying to stop Malak, stop the war, and in doing so would save countless lives. But Revan started the war. Revan is responsible for the deaths of billions, Republic and Sith. Not even counting the Mandalorians from the last war! Saving the lives and limbs of a handful of miners doesn’t begin to make up for that.

When we get back to Anchorhead, the foreman tells me to wait in the speeder, so I do. He’s gone for maybe five minutes before he comes back. “You’ll find 250 credits transferred to you,” he says, “She wasn’t happy about it, but you saved the company way more than that, so I persuaded her to increase your cut.” He gets T3 out of the speeder while I pull myself out. “I’ll make sure the rest of our machines get shielding under the vents. And thanks again, really.” And he speeds away, back to the mine.

I don’t want to go back to the Hawk. I don’t want to go to Manaan. I don’t want to do this anymore. I can’t. Maybe I can get passage on a freighter out of here. Actually join the Republic scouting corps. Or, hell, maybe the Sith. Mandalorian. Aratech. Free-lance - just to actually do something. To feel something other than hatred and anger. Because there’s no way I could hope to make up for all the shit I’ve done that I don’t even remember. Not by finding the Star Map, not by ending the war, nothing. And staying and doing all that only increases the chance that I’ll hurt the people I care about. The only way to avoid that is to just… go. Run away. Take T3 and just go.

I find myself at the cantina. That feels about right. So I go in. “Hey!” the bartender shouts to me, "You can’t bring that droid in here. It’ll have to wait outside.”

Oh, hell, no. I’m not leaving him. And I think I could get away with a little intimidation. I look at a bottle resting on the bar. Reach out with the Force and lift it high above his head. “How about now?”

He looks from the bottle, to me, to T3, and back to the bottle. Decides it’s not worth it to argue. “Just don’t cause any trouble.” I gently set the bottle back down and take a seat.

[star-spangled-steve]

His New Partner

Chapter 28: The Accords

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: 1995

Warnings: Quite a bit of angst, mentions of death and a funeral, mentions of a bombing, one cuss word.

A/N: By the way, Steve and Sharon never kiss in this version of Civil War. The man is married for gosh sake. He gives her a friendly hug.

Y/N gave the door a light knock before slowly opening it, curious about what was about to happen on the other side. When Steve had texted her the five simple words ‘Meet me in our room’, the girl hadn’t even thought about it twice. This was regular. But when he added ‘Please doll, it’s important’, she instantly began to worry.

“Stevie?” She questioned as she stepped inside of the room, gently closing the door behind her. Her husband was sitting on their leather armchair with his right elbow propped up on the side, head in his hand. The man looked simply distraught, and Y/N felt almost wary to approach. “What’s wrong, hon?”

“Uh,” Steve looked up at her blankly before sniffling and clearing his throat, “Peggy died.”

The girl’s shoulders instantly sagged and she briefly closed her eyes, puffing out a breath. “Oh, sweetie. I’m so sorry.” She walked closer towards him, making grabby motions with her hands. The Captain knew what she was initiating and lazily stood up, letting his wife bring him into a warm hug. “So, so sorry, honey.”

They stayed like that for a couple of minutes, completely silent as Y/N slowly rocked them back and forth. She wanted to soothe him from all the pain that was hidden inside, hoping that he would just be open with her and let it all out.

Steve just squeezed her tighter and let himself get lost in her embrace, trying to forget about all the outside stress. “No. I’m sorry, doll.” He spoke quietly, weakly into her hair.

Y/N slightly pulled her face back and tried to look the man in the eye, but he seemed to be focused on their carpet floor instead. “Why on earth are you sorry?”

He gave her a slight shrug. “I’m crying over a past girl. You’re my wife, you don’t deserve to hear this.”

She immediately shook her head back forth, not wanting him to feel so guilty. “Honey, I know how much she means to you, and I know what she represents for you.” Y/N rested her head on his chest once again. “Hell, I’m pretty upset over this too. She’s always been such a lovely woman.”

Steve closed his eyes, letting out a shaky breath that almost sounded like he was on the verge of tears.

“You can cry, Stevie. You don’t have to play it strong for me.”

The man nodded, finally letting the couple drops of water fall from his crystal blue eyes. This just prompted Y/N to tear up as well, seeing the love of her life so upset.

“Come on, hon.” She spoke softly. “Let’s just get in our pyjamas and stay under the covers all night. Not go anywhere or do anything or see anyone. Okay?”

Steve gave her a small smile. “That sounds great, baby. Thank you.”

The married couple of almost eight months did just as Y/N had suggested, getting changed and laying down on their shared bed. The girl was snuggled into her man’s side, her hand soothingly running up and down his clothed torso.

They had no idea how long they had stayed like that. Minutes or hours; it didn’t matter to Y/N as long as Steve began to feel better. She could feel the beat of his heart underneath her head, observing how it gradually calmed down as he got more and more relaxed.

“Darling,” the Captain broke the peaceful silence, “I’ve got to talk to you about something.” He seemed quite nervous, and Y/N immediately knew what was on his mind.

The actress propped her chin up on his chest, looking directly at him. “Let me guess... the accords?”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows. “Ya, exactly. How did you know about those?”

“Nat and Wanda told me.”

The man nodded. “Did they tell ‘ya anything else?”

Y/N let out a slightly nervous breath as she thought about her answer. It’s not that she didn’t know what it was, because she absolutely did. It’s that she didn’t entirely know what it could mean for their future, and that honestly made her quite scared. “That you probably won’t sign them.”

Steve gulped. “And, uh, how does that make you feel?”

“Well,” Y/N began with a sigh, “I don’t want to tell you what to do or not do. But I guess I’m just confused at what’s ‘gonna happen.”

“Honestly, I don’t know either, sweetheart.” The man told her sincerely. “But all I do know, is that those documents are not the right answer. Yes, we’ve made some mistakes. I’ve made some mistakes. And yes, there should be a consequence for our actions. But complete control from the government should not be it.”

“Okay.” Y/N said, partially understanding what he was saying. “Okay, okay, I get that. I really do. But if you don’t sign them, what happens, Steve? What happens to the team?”

“I-”

“What are you going to do? Fight your battles illegally? Because Natasha said that if you don’t sign, you’re forced to retire.” Y/N continued on. Nothing about this situation sat easy with her. “Not that retirement would necessarily be a bad thing. With us trying to have ki-”

“You know that I can’t retire, love.” Steve interrupted. “There’s always more people that need to be saved.”

“But don’t you think that with childre-”

“We’ve been trying for like... what? Seven, eight months now?” The man questioned. “The minute you tell me we’re having a baby, I’ll take some time off. I swear. But I can’t retire forever, doll. I can’t.”

Y/N nodded, internally wishing that she was pregnant to somehow stop this little accords battle they had going on. “Then I don’t really see what your other options are, Steve.”

“C-Can we just drop the subject, N/N?” The Captain sighed. “Please. It’s the last thing I want to think about.”

“You’re right.” The girl admitted, suddenly feeling a sense of guilt wash over her. “I’m supposed to be comforting you right now, not attacking you. M’sorry.”

“It’s okay, babydoll. I know you’re just doing it because you care.” Steve spoke, squeezing her closer into his side. “And it did distract me for a little while from... well... you know.”

Y/N gave him a gentle smile. “I know.” She nuzzled her head against his hard chest, pulling the covers even further up over them. It was time for the pair to just relax, try to put all of the stress and worries and doubts aside for the night.

They hoped that everything would be okay. It had to. And as long as they stuck together, it would be.

*****

“My mom tried to talk me out of enlisting, but, uhm, not Aunt Peggy.” Sharon told Y/N and Steve as they stepped into the lobby of her London hotel, coming back from the funeral reception. The couple had just found out that Sharon Carter was actually the great niece of Peggy Carter, and knew it would be polite to walk her back after such a loss. “She bought me my first thigh holster.” The blonde woman went on.

“Very practical.” Steve quipped.

The agent smiled. “And stylish.”

“Funny, the only thing my great aunt gave me was her height.” Y/N spoke with a chuckle.

“Or lack of.” The girl’s husband added, making a show of looking down at her. She playfully elbowed his side.

The group finally reached the elevator and Sharon pressed the button to go up, turning to face the pair. She and Steve had met two years ago in Washington D.C. when she was assigned to pretend to be his neighbour, which lead her to meet Y/N as well. The women hadn’t gotten to know each other too much, but they certainly were friendly.

“CIA has you stationed over here now?” The Captain asked.

Sharon nodded as she waited for the lift. “Uh, Berlin. Joint Terrorism Task Force.”

“Right, right.” Steve nodded back. “Sounds fun.”

“Mm-hmm.” Y/N added.

“I know, right?”

“I've been meaning to ask you, uh,” the man quirked his head to the side, “when you were spying on me from across the hall-?”

“You mean when I was doing my job.” Sharon interrupted, making the actress giggle.

Steve took a small pause. “Did Peggy know?”

The blonde agent sighed and shook her head. “She kept so many secrets. I didn't want her to have one from you. Or you.” The woman stated as she turned towards Y/N, making the girl furrow her eyebrows. “She liked you a lot, you know?” The elevator dinged, signalling that it was ready for passengers. “Thanks for walking me back.”

“Sure.” The man turned towards his wife and smiled, noticing that she seemed just delighted at Sharon’s last comment.

“Steve.” The group got interrupted by a voice, who they turned and noticed was Sam. “There's something you ’gotta see.”

All four of them headed up to Sharon’s hotel room, where the woman said they could put on the news station.

“More than 70 people have been injured. At least 12 are dead, including Wakanda's King T'Chaka.” The reporter went on. “Officials have released a video of a suspect who they have identified as James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier. The infamous Hydra agent, linked to numerous acts of terrorism and political assassinations.”

Sharon sighed as she hung up her call with the task force.

Steve put back on his suit jacket, which was shed as soon as he got upstairs, turning towards Y/N with a stern face. “I want you on a plane back to the compound.”

The girl was confused. “But, Ste-”

“Make as many calls as you need to, spend as much money as you want, I don’t care.” The man told her firmly, stepping forward to put his hands on her shoulders. “I want you safe.”

Y/N huffed in defeat. “Where are you going?”

“To get Bucky.”

Sam and Sharon stayed silent, not wanting to interrupt the couple. 

“You can’t let the other people do that, Steve? It’s their job.” His wife insisted, placing her hands on his forearms. “Come on, honey.” She was practically begging by now, tears almost about to spring up in her eyes. “Why does everything have to end in a battle?”

“Sweetheart,” he lowered his chin, looking her directly in the eyes, “that’s enough of this conversation.” He quickly took off his gold wedding band and held it out for her take. The Captain always did this before missions, just to make sure that nothing ever happened to what was his most prized possession; besides Y/N herself, of course. “Keep it safe, darling.”

She nodded disappointedly before wiping a couple tears out of her eyes. “You be safe yourself, Stevie. Please, please, please.”

“I always am.” He gave her a small smile, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips.

“Bye, N/N.” Sam spoke as he opened up the hotel room door, waiting for his friend to head out with him.

“Bye, Sam.”

Steve began to follow, realizing how upset that he just made Y/N. He had turned towards her one last time before he left, in hopes to cheer her up. “I love you, babydoll. See you soon.”

The girl clenched her jaw, eyelashes fluttering like crazy from all of the water that was trying to escape through them. “I love you too, Steve.”

The man slowly shut the door behind himself, eyes focused on his wife the whole time.

Once she knew that he was gone for sure, Sharon immediately wrapped the other woman in a big hug. This just triggered the actress to cry even harder, and neither of them had any clue how to fix it. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.” After a minute or so of rocking her back and forth and stroking up and down her back, the agent pulled away. “You going to be able to get home on your own?”

The girl nodded in response.

“Good.” Sharon gave her a smile of sympathy. “I have to go to work.”

Next Chapter

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[dawninlatin]

Queen of Peace, chapter 4

A manorian high school AU

Words: 1826

AO3 Link: Click here

Summary: Manon Blackbeak is flawless, untouchable. From the outside at least. Her grandmother pushes her to achieve greatness, and she doesn't let anyone get too close in fear of being hurt. How can anyone love her when not even her parents could?

Dorian Havilliard has always felt safe and confident around his friends. He might not have the greatest of families, but with Aelin and Chaol by his side, nothing can go wrong. That is until he tries keeping his greatest secret from them.

What will happen when Dorian and Manon gets to know one another? Can two lost souls find their way back together?

There is love in your body but you can’t get it out

It gets stuck in your head won’t come out of your mouth

-Florence + The Machine, Hardest of Hearts

Asterin looked pissed. She and Manon were currently sitting on the floor at the dance studio, stretching after the long practice they’d just had.

«All I’m saying is that you’re not focused enough,» Manon continued. She had asked Asterin to stay behind with her so they could talk. Dance practice was about the only place she saw her cousin now, and even then, her mind seemed to be elsewhere.

While rolling her eyes, Asterin replied: «I just have a lot on my mind right now, besides, we’re doing good.» She shrugged, before moving on to her other leg.

Manon didn’t buy that whole a lot on my mind thing, so she pushed further. «Like hell you have a lot on your mind. I bet it’s that boyfriend of yours keeping you so distracted, you seem to spend all your time with him.»

«So what if I spend my time with him, he makes me happy,» Asterin scoffed as she finished stretching, now standing up to leave.

Oh, they weren’t done yet…

«I don’t care how happy he makes you when you can barely keep up with the rest of the team. Iskra-,»

«Relax a little, nationals are months away,» Asterin interrupted, turning around to face her cousin once more.

Manon hated to argue with her, but someone needed to make sure everyone on the team stayed focused, stayed in shape. «Nationals being months away isn’t an excuse to slack off. You know I can replace you at any time if you don’t keep up with the rest.»

Always the hard, disciplined leader.

Asterin almost looked hurt at her words. Manon kept her features cool and emotionless. She didn’t care about Asterin’s feelings. If she got kicked of the team, it was her own fault.

«There’s nothing I want more than to beat Iskra Yellowlegs like the bug she is, but you don’t have to be such a bitch about it. Go a little easier on the team, we have never been as good as we are now.»

Manon didn’t bother responding as Asterin walked out, slamming the door behind her. The sound echoed through the almost empty room.

They might be better than ever, Manon thought, but better than ever still wasn’t good enough in her grandmothers eyes.

-

Dorian usually enjoyed English class, but the teacher had been rambling about the importance of using formal language and how «kids nowadays talked to their peers». So instead of paying attention to what Mr. Norton was saying, Dorian continued reading the book Aelin had practically forced on him earlier. He had to admit, it was a good book. Especially the main character’s love interest.

Thinking about that sent a rush of sadness through him. Dorian knew Aelin loved that character as well. In fact, she hadn’t been able to shut up about him for the past few weeks. There was nothing Dorian wanted more than to geek out over their joint crush, but that would also mean telling Aelin that he liked both girls and boys.

He still hadn’t told them, still hadn’t found the courage. Dorian wasn’t sure what was holding him back…

The other reason to why he wasn’t paying attention in class was sitting two rows ahead of him. Dorian found his eyes wandering to the head full of white hair more times than he liked to admit.

It had been a week since he stumbled upon her having a panic attack in the library. Dorian had wanted to talk to her after, but she was hard to catch. He never saw her in the hallway, never saw her near the football field, never in the cafeteria, a few days ago he’d even checked the spot he’d last seen her, but it was as empty as always. The only time he actually saw Manon was in English class, but she was the last to enter and the first to leave, meaning it was impossible to go over to her desk and start a conversation while waiting for their teacher. Dorian had met her eyes, once, but she had looked at him like nothing happened, like she didn’t know him, before quickly looking elsewhere.

«-which will mean a lot for your grades.» Dorian only caught the tail of that sentence, but he shifted his attention to the board. Apparently Mr. Norton had stopped talking about formal language and instead moved on to presenting some assignment.

«For this project, you will be paired up two and two. You are to pick a book of your choosing, read it, and then make a podcast where you discuss it. I have put the deadline in two and a half weeks, it’s on a Friday.»

This made Dorian feel very exited. He hoped he would be paired with someone who’d let him choose the book. He already had a few in mind…

«These are the pairs,» their teacher said, pulling a document up on the board. Dorian searched the list until he found himself. He felt a surge of excitement as he saw who he was paired with. Right at the bottom, was his name, next to Manon’s.

This was gonna be a good couple of weeks.

This day could not get any worse, Manon though, looking at the board.

First, she had been woken up way too early by Abraxos yowling at her window. Good thing her grandmother was currently out of town. The lack of sleep had put her in a fairly pissy mood. A mood which had been made worse by fighting with Asterin after dance practice. Then she had been unlucky enough to be paired up with Dorian fucking Havilliard for a project counting 50% on their semester grade.

She had to find some way to get out of it. She could tell Mr.Norton she didn’t have time to meet up with Dorian. That she would read a book on her own and make an analysis. Or just ask to switch partners. Anything, to not do it with him of all people.

What are the odds - in a class with 30 students - of being paired up with the boy who happened to walk in on you having a panic attack a week ago?

Manon had zoned out in a train of thought, which were interrupted by their teacher speaking once again. «You can have the rest of this lesson to discuss how you want to go through with it,» Mr. Norton announced, sitting down behind his desk.

Fuck, now Dorian was coming towards her. She tried to look as bored as possible as he leaned against the edge of the table in front of her, hands in his pockets. He ran a hand through his curly, black hair, before asking:

«Were you okay the other day? I’ve been meaning to ask you, but…» He simply gestured at her, instead of finishing the sentence. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Manon tried to keep her features calm, cold. «What are you talking about? I’m fine. Besides, it’s none of your business.»

Dorian raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it, so Manon answered with a glare. That seemed to make him give up his interrogation, she thought as his expression faltered.

«Okay, so we should probably discuss what book to read,» Dorian said reluctantly, not ready to let go of the previous subject just yet.

«Yeah, no, that’s not gonna work,» Manon replied, her voice bored.

«And why is that?» The boy in front of her was smirking now. She wanted to punch him in the face.

Manon rolled her eyes. «Because I have a very tight schedule. We can just do it separately and then mix up our notes as we hand it in.»

As soon as the words had left her mouth, the bell rang, students all around them moving to get out. Thank god! Manon was about to get up and leave herself, but Dorian stopped her. He ripped a piece of paper out of his notebook before scribbling down something and handing it to Manon.

«Here’s my number. Why don’t you text me when you’ve found an available spot in your very tight schedule.» After putting an emphasis on very tight he had the audacity to wink at her, before walking out of the classroom.

And Manon just stood there, baffled by the whole exchange, with a sudden need to scream.

-

When Manon was lying in bed that night, she still couldn’t get her mind off the stupid project. She most definitely couldn’t work with Dorian, she decided.

So why do you still have his number?

She cursed the voice inside herself. He meant trouble, and there had to be some way she could do it alone. She would talk to Mr. Norton tomorrow and figure it out. She didn’t need to think about it tonight.

Manon tried to close her eyes and go to sleep, but all she could see was Dorian, winking at her as he walked away. Text me, she could hear his voice echo in her mind.

Then there was the other thing bothering her. She still hadn’t spoken with Asterin after their fight. She had hoped they could declare peace over dinner today, but she hadn’t come home after school. It was now midnight, and still no sight of her cousin. She was probably at Hunter’s.

Asterin being away meant the whole house was quiet. Their grandmother was away on some business trip and wouldn’t be back for another few days. Manon normally enjoyed the calm quiet of the night, but right now she couldn’t relax. Something was on her mind.

You have that something’s number, that voice said again.

«Fuck it!» Manon annoyingly exclaimed as she abruptly sat up, rousing Abraxos - who was lying next to her - from his peaceful sleep in the process.

Ignoring the clearly offended cat, she reached for her nightstand, where her phone and the note she had tossed beside it laid. She opened her messages and typed in Dorian’s number. She didn’t bother saving it. Then she angrily typed in a message before sending it and tossing her phone back on the nightstand. She didn’t wait to see if he answered.

The message only said: Saturday, 3pm, the library.

Manon hadn’t even bothered signing it. He would have to figure out who it was from on his own.

«Don’t look at me like that,» she said to Abraxos as she laid back down. The cat only purred before snuggling close.

Rolling her eyes at him, she tried to be annoyed, but Manon had to admit she didn’t mind the warmth. The cat purred even louder, apparently agreeing.

As she closed her eyes once more, she tried very hard not to think about Saturday and the boy she had just texted.

A/N: And so it begins...

Sorry for not updating sooner, but school is being a bitch, and will continue being a bitch for the next week, so I have no idea when chapter 5 will be posted.

But, I can reveal that the next chapter will be all about Dorian<3

I am also sorry for the GIF I used this time, I couldn’t stop myself.

Also this fic turned out wayyyy fluffier than I imagined, but I don't mind. We'll blame Abraxos for being too cute...

Thank you so much to everyone who reads and likes and comments and reblogs and leaves kudos...I LOVE YOU!!

Peace&Love -Dawninlatin

[mydearsaddiary]

Chapter 5- All’s fair in love and war PART 2

Trigger warning: mention of drug use and sexual harassment, +16

(Link to part 1: https://mydearsaddiary.tumblr.com/post/619859528811495424/neil-season-3-part-5-trigger-warning-16-this)

The Mayor’s reaction to my presence wasn’t of shock or even surprise. I felt the quick motion of his eyes down and up my body that made me feel dirty, and then he locked his dark eyes in mine- Oh, what do we have here?- He said and I almost choked. It’s never good when they say that, is it?

-Mayor Adler…!-I looked at door that was just a few feet away from me, but now so far away with the tall figure in front of it- I am a friend of Vera’s. She invited me over for tea but had to leave in a hurry, so she said I could let myself out-I started to make my way around him- So you caught me going home, if you don’t mind…

As I reached for the liberty of the outside world, his hand forcefully shut the door. I couldn’t explain it, but this fear crawled into my body. My heart started racing and my breathing heavy- H-Huh…-I was planning to say something but I didn’t know what to say

-I know who you are, Miss Granger-His eyes looked into mine again, although they wandered to places I didn’t want them to- My wife kindly informed me you were coming. After all I have to keep a woman like Vera in a pretty tight leash. Women like her and you think they can act like men, do whatever they want- He put his hand on my neck grabbing it, by impulse my hands were on his hand, trying to pull it away. He wasn’t pressing hard, but it wasn’t a gentle hand either. Of course that didn’t matter because it was unwelcome- All you’re missing is a strong, conventional man to teach you your place. In the end that’s what you women have to do, whatever a man who possesses you desire

Adler was like a colonizer. Whatever he put his hands on he assumed he owned it and could do with it as he desired. Those hands were on me. I was never the quiet or submissive girl, I praised myself for being modern. However I couldn’t do much against a man so much stronger than me. I thought about my gun in my holster, but my arms shook so much he would overpower me either way. It was dangerous to let him know I was armed- Please, let me go- It was all I could say

-I love it when people say please to me. It means they’re afraid. Are you scared of me, Miss Granger?

I didn’t say anything this time, my mind was racing, and my body was on fire due to adrenaline. He let go of my throat and I coughed a little, reaching for the door again.

But for the second time my heart leaped when he grabbed my upper arm pulling myself towards him- I wasn’t done with you, yet. I wanted to talk still- This time he pushed my body against the wall, his hand on my back. He had a funny way of wanting to talk. His firm hands told me he was used to getting what he wanted, by cooperation or by force- You know I must be aware of everything you do, including your uncle’s illegal activities and how he put you to manage his little gang

I breathed slowly. I knew he knew, but I had to calm myself and think if I was going to get out of this situation- Are you threatening me of something?- I snarled

-On the contrary. I didn’t marry Vera because I love her, but because she’s of use to me- I didn’t care much for Vera being used, since I knew she was using the Mayor for his title. They deserved each other- But you, Miss Granger. You’re made of sterner stuff- I felt the chills when he said that close to my ear so I could feel this breath- You would be a perfect wife. How does it sound? MC Adler

-Keep dreaming, Mayor- I tried to get free, but soon froze when his other hand that wasn’t holding me travelled south on my body squeezing an inappropriate place. First I felt like screaming, then the fact that he was pulling my dress up and I could feel his hand under my clothing woke in me a fire I didn’t know I had. I wanted to scream, cry, run… All at once. However my experience in the past didn’t allow me to just freeze. I was armed, for god’s sake, I had to do something! I’ll be damned before I let him go through with this.

I kicked him in the shin as strongly as I could and he backed away wincing in pain. I took the opportunity to open the door and run out, not allowing myself to glance back. I just saw the car and kept running. However I heard the door open again. This time I heard a shot, pain and then I was on the floor

I needed only a couple of seconds to look back and realize my calf bled out of a bullet hole in it. My eyes darted to Mayor Adler walking towards me with a gun in his hand. I got up, even if my leg hurt the adrenaline in me was so big I ran to the Studebaker. I was lucky enough he missed the other shots. Once I was in the car he still shot in my direction but the car was armored. I drove away as fast I could, trying to convince myself this wasn’t just a bad dream

I parked at the Ice Box and limped inside my safe haven. I pulled at chair from one of the tables and let myself fall on it. I breathed loudly for some seconds. I could feel my throat hurting, the pain on my left calf. But what hurt more was still feeling the unwelcome touch of the Mayor on my throat, arm, back, under my dress on my thighs and rear.

I closed my eyes and as the adrenaline left my body, everything that had happened settled in. The waterworks started and they didn’t seem to stop. I was thankful for having the whole place for myself. I wanted to go get a drink but when I tried to get up my leg hurt too much. So I just stayed still and allowed myself to cry without anyone seeing. It was at least half an hour before I stopped. My nose was stuffed and my head hurt

But eventually I stopped. After some more minutes my face was only slightly red when Vince and Cliff came barging in laughing and got serious as they took the view. I realized I must’ve looked awful. My clothes were dirty and ripped at the seam where Mayor Adler had forced his way in, I had bruises on my arm and neck and my left leg stood straight out while my calf bled on the floor

-Doll!- Vince said loudly coming to me- What the hell happened?- He said as Cliff went to the phone, calling Neil

-I went to Vera’s house for tea.- My voice had that roughness in it after you cry- Snooped around when Donovan gave her the call. Everything was going according to plan until Mayor Adler showed up himself-I said angrily looking at him- The snake is worse than Vera. He caught me in the house and was kind enough to say some threats and…

-He did this to you?- He pointed at my calf then up to the bruises. He got up and formed fists with his hands going for his gun- Now I’m goin’ to crack a few skulls- He said in a low, almost haunting voice

-V-Vince!-I yelled and Cliff, already off the phone, grabbed him- You can’t kill the mayor!

-I’m tired of the pacifism, MC!-He looked at me- We can’t just stand here and hope to solve everything without violence! It’s bootlegging, it’s the gangster business! You can’t always keep your hands clean

-You’re right!- I yelled and he seemed surprised- We are gonna have to get our hands dirty this time. Still, we can’t just be careless! We can’t just go in guns blazing and all that. We still need to outsmart them, even if we have to resort to violence.

He nodded, breathing more calmly now- Alright.

And then Neil barged in the door. His eyes went straight to me. I expected to see anger in them, but even in all its seriousness I could just see worry as he grabbed his bag from behind the bar and started to clean my leg

-Neil…-I started

-Don’t think you’re off the hook here-His stern voice said- We’ll talk about this later. Now, what did you find out?

I told them everything that had happened, skipping the part where Mayor Adler invaded my dignity in ways that made me wish I could cut off the skin he touched.

-I know where the documents that incriminate The Broiler are. The Mayor has documents incriminating all of Chicago. I didn’t have the chance to get to them thought because…-I took papers, now all crumpled up, and showed them- Because I only had time to get these instead. Documents on the Ice Box and everyone involved in it

Neil sighed looking at me- At least you know where they are

-Which means I’m gonna have to go back there again

-It’s out of the question, MC-Neil said, I winced softly when he stitched the wound on my leg and finished caring for it

-I’m the only one who could have access to that place, Neil. I get that it is dangerous but we have to do what we have to stop th-

-IT IS… OUT. OF THE QUESTION!- He yelled. A tone of voice I had never heard before. Me, Vince and Cliff looked stunned at him because of it. I don’t think anybody had ever heard him yell. No one said anything for a while and the silence even became uncomfortable

After a while he got up and announced the both of us were going home and asked Cliff to handle the Ice Box that night. Before I could protest he picked me up bridal style and carried me out

Not long after we were in Neil’s living room. He sat me down on his couch and poured a drink for himself, and then another, and another…

-Are you going to get drunk, now?- I asked- Or maybe you could yell again-

-I’m sorry- It was what he said instead- I’m sorry I yelled- He looked at me- But I walk in and you have bruises all over you, you’ve been shot and you… You…-He recomposed himself before he continued- I could see on your face you were crying! What are you going to do next, get yourself a knife between the ribs?

I thought back to when I first told him I was infiltrating John Bailey and Louis Tibbs’ circle.

“I’ll be alright” He said “As long as we work this stunt so you don’t get hurt”

“Haven’t you figured out I’m tough as nails now?” I replied cocky

“I know you think you are, but I don’t want to put that to the test. Can’t risk it, now that I know I’m in love with you”

Neil loves me. I love him. I felt guilt now, more than anything. I came back wounded this time, of course he had a hard time taking it. The guilt grew inside me as I realized I was putting myself in harm’s way, thinking I’d be protecting Neil and everyone this way. However I realized what it’d do to him if the worst had happened. I lowered myself letting me cry again

Why was I crying so much these days? I hated it! I felt so sensitive. Soon he was beside me, holding me in his arms

-I’m sorry too, Neil. I know I haven’t been really careful and I’m sorry- I hugged him tightly

He kissed my forehead, then he put his finger on my chin gently pulling it up, kissing me so gently, as if I was the most precious thing he ever held.

That was a welcoming touch, one I wished for the rest of my life. It wasn’t just physical, it was spiritual. He touched me in a way nobody else could, in all the ways you could touch someone.

I kissed him back, longingly. Nothing made me feel better and safer than to be with him

-I know there’s something you’re not telling me- He said, almost in a whisper- You told me once that anything I needed to say I could, that you wouldn’t judge. It’s the same for me. So, please tell me

I breathed heavily, looking into his eyes- Mayor Adler, he…- I struggled

-It doesn’t seem like Vera to cause bruises or shooting. He did this, didn’t he?-He said lowly, but his tone indicated immense concealed anger- Your arms and throat, he hurt you.

-He did…- I said in a weak voice- But that wasn’t all of it- I looked down pulling my dress up my thighs, revealing my bruised skin under my dress, in places only Neil had touched before. Realization dawned in his face as he put two and two together and understood his touch on me wasn’t just to hurt

I felt him shiver and almost grow, like an angry bear, ready to kill. Neil didn’t get this angry and as a doctor he wasn’t a threat to anybody’s life. But if looks could kill, Mayor Adler would be having a stroke right now wherever he was- That bastard- He held me tightly again. Almost possessively- I’m not leaving you alone anymore, do you understand? Everything we do, we do together. Until Vera and Mayor Adler are done with, I cannot risk anything else happening to you

-Okay- I didn’t hesitate. He looked at me surprised. He probably expected me to fight back or say something like “I don’t need to be watched over”, but that wasn’t what I was thinking- I’m going to be your wife, and you’ll be my husband. If you’re my partner in life, it means… We’re also partners in crime aren’t we?- I held his hand tightly- I’m sorry I’ve been putting on a brave face in front of you. I need your help. Will you help me beat Hurricane Vera and Adler together?

He looked at me for a few seconds before saying something- Of course, MC. You didn’t even have to ask. That’s why it’s called a gang, you know? You don’t have to do everything on your own, but you never listen to anyone with that cracked skull

I smiled, kissing him again- I could take a break from all of it though. How about…- I picked up a magazine I knew I left on the side table and opened it up- Picking the flowers for the wedding?

He looked at me, about to say some snappy remark about how he’d rather stab himself than pick roses or lilies, but he caught himself and opened a smile- Alright, yes. Flowers sound good

1917

Somewhere in the Atlantic, in a long slow ship to France

-Are you nervous?- Alton said, pulling me out of my thoughts. I had honestly lost count of how many days, or maybe months, we had been in this ship. I was nervous about certain things. It was my first time out of the U.S. Gosh, it was my first time out of Massachusetts. I knew where I was going and why, but I knew I was ready for it. I knew me and Alton were going to be okay because we had experience. In that sense I wasn’t scared.

However when you’re taking part in something as grand as the Great War itself, you start pondering. Here I was, sitting in uniform, a medic badge on my arm, surrounded by many other soldiers. All of us, making our way across the Atlantic. Away from the safe haven that was America and into the dangers of Europe. I didn’t know what came over me and I knew it was childish, but I was excited.

-Neil!- Alton said again- Stop daydreaming and answer my question!-My best friend said. He was tall and pale just as me, but the dark of his eyes and hair contrasted my appearance otherwise

-I guess not. I’m not nervous, I’m just tired of waiting this long-I played around with a knife in my hands

-You can’t way to get home and get married to Lillie, can you? You’ll start making babies as soon as you’re back

I laughed at him- Hey, why don’t you worry about your own girl?

-Huuuh… Because I don’t have one-He sat by me- So I’ll just have to be nosy about your life instead

-I heard French girls are friendly enough-I said, this time lighting up a cigarette- And I heard they love soldiers

-Yeah, that’s just stuff the other people say- He dismissed it with his hand- Can I ask you something?- I looked at him with interest- Why did you propose to Lillie?

-There’s a couple of reasons. My family was always talking about her, I knew they approved of her. We have known each other for years and she’s friendly. We could get along well. Then she is also very attractive which is a bonus- I hesitated for a few seconds- Then I guess I rushed it a little bit because I was leaving, and I thought if I had a motivation, a girl to come back home to… That’d make things easier- I looked at him- I do plan to take care of her when I get back and if I have to marry within the high society, Lillie is as good as they come. I think we could build a good life together and raise good children

-And of course you didn’t want anybody taking her while you were away- He teased and I laughed, then he continued- Do you love her?

The question surprised me, it took me a few minutes to recompose myself- I… I guess so, yeah. When she asked I did say I loved her…

-That didn’t ring very sincere-He said it in a low tone- But I’m not judging, really.

I thought about it for a few seconds- I guess I’m not in love with her, but I know I can learn to. She’s a good person. Besides, who in high society marries for love, Alton? It’s all a transaction, something to appear in the papers and build reputation and pass the name along. Hopefully, you find somebody who you can work with and learn to love.

-I guess so, but… You may call me an idiot-He smiled shyly- But when I’m home from the war, I want to marry for love. She can be the poorest girl you’ve ever seen, a small town girl who grew up in a small town house in the middle of nowhere and her parents could have five bucks in their pockets…-He was smiling now- As long as she makes me happy, why does it matter all that jazz about she having to be perfect for my family?

-You were always more courageous than I ever was. - I said, admired by my best friend yet again

-I always did know that. Besides, your parents would probably throw a fit if you ever brought a low-class girl and said you were going to marry her - He laughed with me, but then got serious to continue talking- But… I do wish the same for you, you know. If you are sure Lillie will make you happy… Then go for it. But I-

-Hey, don’t worry Alton. You know Lillie, she’s great. We’ll work it out, I’m sure-I smiled to reassure him

-Alright, I just worry about your thick head sometimes. Especially whether you’ll be happy after you go back

-After we go back! Besides, somebody needs to be there when you bring a poor girl to meet your parents, to keep them from sawing your head off

He laughed again- I don’t who she’ll be yet. But even if you already made up your mind. I’m sure there’s a girl out there who would make you crazy about her, I’m telling you. You could drink all the bourbon in the world and she’d still be there- He tapped his own head- That’s the kind of girl I’m talking about

I sighed shaking my head- Not me, Alton. What are you expecting?-I teased now- That there’s the perfect girl somewhere, waiting for me?

-Yes, she’ll be everything but high-society!- He started to joke- She’ll not just be low-class and come from the middle of nowhere-He pointed a finger at me- She’ll be the boss of ya- I laughed as he continued on- She’ll talk back to everything you say, she’ll take none of your sass! She’ll be a modern one, talking loud and everything, giving out orders, she’ll even have a job outside the house. No housewife business, she’ll stand up to you and be on your level too

-Even if my parents would ever allow that- I crossed my arms- What makes you think I’d marry such girl?

-That’s it, dear friend, you won’t want to. But she’ll be so stuck in your head, you’d have to drink yourself to a coma to forget her. Even so, she’d be in your dreams. And she’ll be the hottest dame you’ve ever seen. She’ll even dare to show her ankles around- He laughed and then sat by me again- Well, that’s the kind of girl I’m hoping for

I laughed at him- Well, you’re expectations are so low- I joked- Or so high, I’m not sure. Either way, if that was the case, she’d be the complete opposite of Lillie.

-A girl like Lillie ain’t for me. To be honest I didn’t even consider her for you-He stared at me- But you’ve decided to keep the tradition going. The conventional, beautiful, quiet and feminine dame. She’ll take you places in the high-society… She’ll be the perfect wife and you’ll always have your peace and quiet

-Peace and quiet will always win for me-I offered him a cigarette this time and he took it

-Whatever you say, buddy, whatever you say-He said shaking his head

Same year, somewhere in… Columbus, Ohio

-Well, that’ll teach him to never yell at me again- I said- My name is MC Granger and don’t you forget that!-I yelled before starting to walk home

-What are you doing, MC? Scaring the boys off ya again?- Edith said. Her and Hazel soon joined me as we walked home from school

-Tomorrow is finally my tenth birthday-I yelled excited- I’m gonna be a big girl, and Joe Dixon was laughing at me just because he’s eleven! And then there’s Millicent who just has to have thrown the best party, now who’s gonna want to come to mine?!

-MC, there’s a war going on in Europe and people are dying! And you’re worrying about your stupid birthday party- Edith started

-War this, war that, I’m finally gonna be a big girl!-I crossed my arms- It’s time for me to start looking for my husband

-You don’t become a woman until you-She lowered her voice to a whisper this time-Bleed.

-Ew, Edith! Just because you did last month doesn’t mean I will!

-Well, if you want to find a husband and become a big girl, you need that to happen first

I looked at her, this time my eyes went wide- Really?!

-It’ll happen for you soon!

-Well, until them I can at least imagine! Like I already know I’m gonna marry a rich man. Momma said so

-According to Momma we’ll all marry rich men-Edith replied

-You guys worry too much about boys- Hazel said-They’re just plain mean and gross!

-We’re talking about older boys, Hazel-I said- Like, when they’re ten or eleven. They’re basically men then! I already know I’m gonna marry a rich men and he’ll buy me everything I want

-That’s all you care about?-Edith said- What about how he’ll treat ya?

-Of course he’s gonna treat me well!- I replied

-Well, what if he doesn’t? They’re all mean-Hazel repeated herself

-If he doesn’t treat me nice,-I turned my hands into fists and started punching the air- He’ll wish he never messed with MC Granger!

____

Author’s notes: Thank you so much for reading this chapter! Coming up, the gang discovers that the pacifism of past season is really over. We’ll be seeing a lot more fights and action when it comes to Mayor Adler. He and Vera are our main villain duo! Neil’s mother and Lucille (and her husband) will be coming to Chicago, so we’ll be seeing a lot of wedding planning!

Thank you!!

Candy, My Dear Diary (06/02/2020)

[bionicdragonguardian1]

Voltron Rewritten Defender (1/8)

Also known as My Almost Raging Bitch List for this Goddamn Disastrous Disappointment of a Show

I binged all 8 seasons in under a week, so believe me when I say almost nothing was forgotten between seasons/episodes and I do tend to note that.

If it’s not obvious by the title, I’m planning an entire show AU. I am extremely open to people’s opinions on what I’m currently thinking and when I finally post this I’ll be open to criticism there too. If you would like to avoid seeing anything in regards to this feel free to blacklist #voltron_rewritten_defender because that’s what I’ll be using for this whole thing.

Enjoy, I guess.

Fair warning I am a multishipper, but for this show I leaned towards Klance, so if that bothers you that’s okay, I’m not going to be bashing any other ships (mainly just Dreamworks’ forced Allurance). If you think I missed something for any other ship lemme know! If you wanna have a ship discussion that’s cool too. The only other thing I can think of is that Allura’s attitude in S8 really stuck with me to the point that she bothered me throughout the entire rewatch (I was admittedly one of the people who thought she could be very Mary Sue ish when I first watched this) so that’ll show up now and again.

If you want to look at the Google Doc for the whole show, click the link, if not you can expand this post to see Season 1. I’ll be doing these in chunks, but as some of you know I do a FicRecList on one of my other accounts here @sorcerusdragonbionics​ so I’m gonna be alternating between that and these for the next couple days.

If you do the Google Route it’ll have you ask me for permission, this is normal and if you request it I’ll give you commenting abilities.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1t30IRJonrBFh0qvs8recf3ayGoQ0rx02y0Tg1e4NTaI/edit?usp=sharing

Key

Things I kinda wanna bitch about

Things I did genuinely enjoy and like 

Rewatch Thoughts (basically what I remember from further forward and how I feel like it reflects back on earlier seasons)

Ship Talk (behold my multishipping insanity)

Things I think I’ll do in the Rewrite

Writing Notes (mainly for me or as explanation for what I’m planning)

VA and Closed Captioning Things

Other Fic Thoughts

This ended up being music commentary in S8

Season One

Problems with the Season overall:

To be honest if I hated this season I wouldn’t’ve kept watching because by the time I started S3 had just dropped

Episode 1

Here’s the deal, WHY ARE YOU SO LONG BUT SO EMPTY?!?

Yeah, nope, that’s mostly it

Fix the problem of telling instead of showing about the other Lions and remove Allura’s explanation of the Lions if possible (thank you Kross for explaining why it felt so empty- this vid is actually where I started getting the idea to actually go through with a full series AU)

DON'T RUSH THE LION INTROS

Also let the 5 introduce themselves to Allura and Coran

Also Character Drive to Complete Mission Should Be A Thing

Flesh out Paladin Personalities so that the Aris Arrival is End of Part One (making it closer to the length of E1)

Flesh out Lion intros so part 2+3 are more like full Eps without Sendak

Episode 2

75 degrees… that’s definitely in Fahrenheit, which why?

How does no one have a watch with a date on them?

“A man can be driven to do anything if a beautiful woman is just really really mean to him”

More inbetween scenes bc I can

I will accept the transformation sequence here, I’m just not going to write it

Episode 3

Please watch the use of Earth Time Slices please, because it’s confusing

I love the portrayal of PTSD in this show and I would die before I change it

Bye bye transformation sequence

Pidge’s talk with Shiro can please change

Episode 4

“I say Vol, you say Tron” will come up again if it kills me

Lance, how do you know what hotdog water and feet taste like?

I love how Coran is completely nonchalant about the fact that he’s drinking a hair tonic

Shiro, don’t bring down the mood

Goddammit Sendak, you could stay for this arc, but god I want you GONE!

Keith, having an emotion? Really?

The Pidge plot DID NOT NEED TO HAPPEN LIKE THAT!

Fight me I will change it

Or minimally change the fact that their selfish motivations are revealed to BAD and should be changed

Oh yeah, let’s not give the ONE GUY with notable homesickness a character arc around that

That moment when you realize Allura is like ‘wtf is a peanut’

Allura, don’t push it, some people don’t want to talk about it

You will have something to talk about, BIOLOGY

Decryption happens here, and next attempt to find family occurs… when?

Poor Coran, if there is anyone who was more forgotten than Lance it was him

Keith isn’t wrong, but he also doesn’t know how to say it without getting mad, which mood

Just pointing out Lance is not only smart, but selfless, tell me how he’s not the main character

My inner Shance/Klance shipper is sobbing

“Bomb fuel” mentioned here, occurs… actually it’s ok

Timelines need to be a thing!

Can I make the fight scenes more intense? Yes, I write them for my YJ Scripts. Will I? Almost definitely.

Keith with that much fire your mask should be closed because smoke inhalation is bad

Can we explain Vrepit Sa before s6?

It feels like Coran forgets that 10k years have passed under an evil empire and part of me likes it, but it hurts me

Episode 5

The Katie flashback is hurts me

I want to add Gender Identity

Can we talk about how Shiro is a nickname for Takashi Shirogane?

That’s not how an EMP works

The Coran sitting on Hunk’s shoulders with a machine gun is everything

I know the back x-ray was a joke, but I still don’t like it

Rax is an idiot, just saying

Bonding Moment!!!

Episode 6

“Intergalactic time measuring competition.”

“We had a bonding moment!”

Where is Sendak’s arm?

Fight me, Pidge’s ‘gender speech’

It will be a gender speech if it kills me

Lance, why are you acting the way you are?

“I figured” and “We were supposed to think you were a boy” ARE NOT PROPER REACTIONS!

Rolo, sometimes I want to punch you in the teeth

Lance’s boner is going to get someone killed

Lance had 4sec of logic and then Nyma brings up Keith, which ofc does him in

Let’s expand on the Komar, yeah?

Quiznack means fuck and NO ONE can tell me otherwise

Keith’s ability to fly is impressive and it’s awesome

Friendly reminder that Lance acknowledged the bonding moment

Episode 7

I LOVE the laser gun sound effects!!!

I just realized that Allura has no clue what an Acronym is

We… literally just talked about this and YOU didn’t know that Shiro, I understand the point, but seriously?

LIONS are TELEPATHIC Shiro DID NOT need to say that aloud!

I do actually like the fact that Kieth gets excited before realizing what he did

FIRE and ICE PEOPLE come on! What the hell?! You barely had to try

“Yes sir?” Keith to Shiro, what?

I love them and their cute little arguments

Left vs Right, thank you Zamber

We be lovin’ Hunay bc it’s pure as hell

Thank you Shiro for validating Hunk’s concerns

You could check  a little faster, Allura

I LIVE for this scene

Was it actually Rolo?

Do they have teleporters?

Keith being weird is my favorite thing

I love good big bros who argue tradition to save their baby sis

Zarkon is a bit of a moron

THEIR LIVES ARE IN DANGER ALLURA!

They all came through different doors… how?

What if the answer was no?

I’m ok with Lance embarrassing himself when he’s cocky, some people seem to forget that

Bye transformation sequence, I explained you ONCE and that’s it

Prorock… why are you familiar?

Episode 8

I admittedly forgot that they didn’t know these things would be different

Flying fight scenes I can do, teleporting not so much

Poor Shiro he thought he had an idea and he was wrong

I love Coran’s reaction

Also NO SHIT Allura

UHHHH Pidge said that not and of the other three so how did He know?

Allura may piss me off, but I do love this speech

“Your Altean Energy”??? Coran, you’re an Altean, I’m confused.

The “Sacred Altean” thing I get, but you must be more specific cuz it makes Coran sound like he thinks he’s not a proper Altean.

Oof, angsty

Also, I  know we can’t kill Allura yet, but... 

I love that Hunk forgot they hadn’t formed Voltron

Bye bye transformation sequence

Ummm, they NEED to explain the Bayard Equip bc that’s… two very different things that occurred between Hunk and Keith’s Bayard Weapons

Why is this a scene? It’s not a dog. So, yeah, I’m with Keith here

Episode 9

THIS IS NOT HEALTHY ALLURA!

I just realized that this doesn’t come back until S..7? 8? Whatever, WAY too long

I can’t unhear “Training Dick”

Did they have homework on Altea?

Be still my Punk shipper heart

WHY is he SO pretty?!

Y’know, the glowing red eye is usually a bad sign

I could SO mean and hurt Keith here

That moment when you’re like 90% sure Shiro heard that somewhere

Not what haunted means Coran, but accurate

Why could Lance see Alfor for a second?

I too would like the answer to “where was the Red Lion?”

PTSD IS AMAZINGLY WRITTEN!

It’s a shame this is NEVER treated properly again

Thank you for NOT making the swimming thing a thing

You didn’t need to TRY Voltron, what the hell?!

Here’s the deal,  Altea not being Obliterated-obliterated is actually a really interesting idea

Lance still wins, for the record

If she was infected in any way this wouldn’t drive me crazier than a bot on Halloween

But she’s not so this is BULL

Shallura confuses me SO much…

Ok, admittedly the scene with Allura and Alfor is beautifully heartbreaking

Episode 10

The fact that Zarkon was a close friend to Alfor should be addressed

Also Shiro calling himself “an inexperienced Pilot” hurts

Allura’s a MORON!

YES! MASSIVE ISSUE WITH YOU COMING

Nice puppetry Hunk

What happened to THIS Allura?! She’s reckless but not INSANE (or so boring I might cry)!

Is this the same Druid from Season 8? Pretty sure it’s 8… I forget which, but the one Keith fought

“Don’t walk through that door!” / Keith does/ “I think I told him” // “You are a paragon of leadership, Lance”

Hehheh I love Hunk teasing Lance about Allura

I do actually the fact that I can’t tell what size the purple container is until Keith grabs it

Heheh the Allura interacting with the Galra soldier

The computer sounds like Lance

Also Shiro had that “holy shit” moment

I HATE WRITING TELELPORTING FIGHTS

I’m 99% sure that the ONLY reason I didn’t fall into the Galra Keith rabbit hole was the fact that I binge watched

This scene confuses me… so much now that I know Shallura was apparently never going to be a thing

So confused

Episode 11

That hair flip though...

Coran, I get it, but calm down

Okay, but Keith has a point. Seriously, he’s not wrong. 

For the record, Haggar scares me

So much makes so much more sense now that we know Zarkon is the Original Black Paladin

That… makes no sense… “enough essence to open a wormhole”

Why are you transforming? More pieces to shoot at is usually a smart idea…

Hey hey, THACE!

Why can’t you have two active at once? I’m honestly serious.

I mean too OP, got it, but you can maneuver around that for temporary stuff

Shiro, use your words, yeah?

“Thinking” uh huh you mean “telepathy” right?

I genuinely forgot that Shiro got booted from Black

Damn! Yes Shiro! Kick some ass!

Ok, here’s the deal, Keith’s not listening to Coran, but he doesn’t have all the info (LIKE THE FUCKING BAYARD), Zarkon’s the OG Paladin, and he’s in distress

I HATE TELEPORTERS!

“Could have been” … uh Kuron exists ?? 

Also, Shiro with yellow eyes is fucking terrifying

We ain’t ficking stupid VLD

Zarkon’s a fucking idiot

Written properly his power-hungry attitude works even with him destroying his own ship

But it wasn’t so it’s null

You aren’t even subtle about Galra Keith

How can Allura see through Illusions?

Nobody knows!

Shiro, you have no jetpack, how are you so fast?

“Who cares, wormhole!” mood

I… uh… I want to do SO many things with this idea

Preferably not what they actually do...

[tundrainafrica]

Title: Division of Labor (3/?)

Summary:  

“The past years, we have noticed a lot of our fresh high school graduates knew nothing about responsibilities that await them outside high school and even college. Many students do not master budgeting, taxes, household planning, loans and we hope to raise a generation who can navigate the adult world without the consequences of bad decisions they are bound to make going in blindly…”

Paradis High school starts a program incorporating adulting into their curriculum and Hange and Levi are paired together.

Note: From request of @a-golden-hearted-snk-fan. See this link for the request

Other Chapters: 1 2

Link to cross-postings: AO3

It turned out Hange did think the housing plan through.  

"It's a rent to own contract...so after paying this certain amount of rent… within a number of years… we can own the house basically," Hange explained. Her preparation was evident in the wad of papers she had carelessly spread out on the table in front of Levi.

At first glance, Levi could not make sense of what those papers were. Eventually, by carefully scanning through the therefore, herewiths, in the events, the interest rates and percentages, Levi figured out they were contracts and manuals full of buying and renting policies of one particular real estate company.

Levi looked out the glass window of the booth of the quiet diner they had chosen to work in. He had tried to use the mechanical movements of the crowds on a commute home to at least help clear his mind enough to make sense of how exactly a rent-to-own contract worked. Levi was sure Hange was at least attempting to explain everything about the buying policies of the real estate company in layman's terms. Although Levi was somewhat impressed by the dedication Hange put into it, as soon as she started to talk about the policies and agreements beyond ‘we get to own the house after a while,’ Levi ended up spacing out. The prospect of spending, even if it was fake money, caused him enough unnecessary stress.  

He turned his attention to the two flour sacks who were propped by the window of the diner booth they occupied. He had purposefully turned their ugly faces towards the window at the small possibility that Shadis, Erwin or even Zeke were amongst the crowds of people walking through the crowds and into the subway station. A testament to their determination not to waste any unnecessary funds or worse, flunk the program

"If we catch you in public not holding your baby, you pay babysitting dues or you fail." Shadis had said in homeroom class that morning.

After some discussion as a class and with some confirmation from Erwin, the whole class came to the understanding that if they went out separately, they were in no obligation to take their babies with them. It could always be assumed after all, that their partner had their baby with them. Being in public with their partner meant someone had to have the baby with them or they risk pay necessary dues. At any rate, they found solace in the fact that if they were going to look like idiots holding brown sacks with shabbily drawn faces on them, they at least had someone to look like an idiot with.

Levi looked back at  Hange to see that she had not stopped talking. Levi was not too surprised, having the disinterested equivalent of a resting bitch face, he had to master the art of looking like he cared to get past most classes.  

“Where did you get these anyway?” Levi asked, interrupting the tirade of his partner. The answer to that question would at least be something he would be able to understand.

“The procedures manual and their company policies are available online.” Hange answered matter-of-factly. Levi noted how quickly she recovered from having her explanation of policy and business jargon interrupted.

As Levi looked once again through highlighted lines and messy scrawls, he felt embarrassed that he was not even halfway done with the design they had discussed the night before. He slowly brought out his folder where he had at least begun to draw the floor plan from the link Hange had sent him the night before.

“How has the floor plan been Levi?” Hange cocked her head to one side. Levi could not tell if she was provoking him or if she was genuinely curious about the progress of his work. Regardless, the way that she sifted through the papers under her, while looking pointedly at the roughly drawn floor plan on his hands had Levi self conscious.

It was Tuesday afternoon, less than 24 hours since she had bombarded him with messages. Less than 24 hours since she dropped a pdf file of the floor plan and went MIA, Levi guessed it was to prepare all the documents which Hange had just laid out in front of him that morning. As he compared his own progress to hers, he also became aware of one more reality, their first outputs were due tomorrow. Begrudgingly Levi had to admit, despite her naivete and overenthusiasm, Hange had a better sense of urgency than he did.

“I planned everything out already. I just need to outline it.” Levi said, trying at least not to sound as defensive as he felt.

“But can you do it alone? I didn’t sleep at all last night to get this done.” Hange looked more concerned than anything else.”

As Levi looked back at a skeleton of a housing plan that lay in front of him, he started to understand her concern. The house they had selected was huge and designing would take hours if he actually wanted to put thought into it.

“I mean even if we take out the 1800 from our budget of 3600 dollars a month, we still have to consider furniture and it might take you a while to come out with the pricing right? I guess we could leave out 1000 dollars for that….”

Furniture? Levi had stopped listening at ‘furniture.’ Somehow Levi had assumed that it would have been fully furnished when they bought it and they just had to rearrange furniture. “We’re buying an unfurnished house?” Levi had hoped Hange was pulling his leg.

Hange knitted her brows in confusion. “Did I say anything about a furnished house?”

                                         Division of Labor

“There are two methods of accounting used in modern day society: cost accounting and accrual accounting or as I’d like to call them: an idiot’s sorry excuse for accounting and actual accounting.” Zeke wrote the two terms on the board and plopped himself on the teacher’s desk. “Really though, why the hell do people still use cost accounting in modern society, it’s fucking stupid, barbaric, might as well go back to bartering…”

Levi had no idea what either of them were. As he looked around at his classmates, they looked as lost as he was about the mini rant that Zeke gave about the two accounting methods he had failed to define.

After a few minutes of ranting, Zeke finally noticed the blank faces of his students. “Okay Social Experiment.” Zeke cocked his head to the side. “Actually, let’s call it an IQ Test.  Jean stand up.”

“Yes sir!” Jean followed way too enthusiastically.

“You got the investment banker occupation so ideally you should be the most knowledgeable on money among everyone in the room,” Zeke continued. “You have zero dollars and I gave you 100 dollars right now. How much do you have?”

“100 dollars sir,” Jean answered.

“That’s a smart boy.” Zeke slapped his desk so hard, Armin and Eren jumped, having sat so close to the teacher’s desk. “Okay, so if I lent you 100 dollars, how much do you have?”

“100 dollars.”

“So, you’re gonna run away with my money? No plans of paying me back?”

Jean tensed up in confusion. “No sir. I’ll be paying you back.”

“Then is it your money?"

“It’s with me sir… So I think…” Jean paused for a second. “So it’s your money sir?”

“Tell me. The money is with you after all. Is it your money or my money?”

“It’s my money sir!” Jean answered too quickly, probably without even thinking.

“I lent you the money. I expect it back so it’s mine. Calling my money your money is practically stealing Kirschtein. I can call a lawyer on you.” Zeke narrowed his eyes at Jean for a few seconds before shrugging in defeat. “But you’re not a criminal. You’re just an idiot who relies on outdated accounting methods. Don’t take that with you when you become an actual financial advisor. Sit down. I’m calling someone else.” Zeke turned back to the class list on the teacher’s table. “Okay, anyone in this list with a finance related position...” Zeke’s eyes widened in surprise as he looked through the list. He looked at the class with a cat-like grin, his eyes focusing on one boy in the front row. “In my almost sixteen years of knowing you, I did not expect you to be suitable but it looks like you’re the only one in this list other than Jean with an accounting related occupation.”

“Really? It’s accounting related?” Eren had never been one to be good at Math. Everyone in the class agreed and as their professor hinted at his assigned occupation, many began to whisper, possibly theorizing as to what Eren had gotten.

They did not have to theorize for long though, within seconds, Zeke continued to discuss. “Okay Eren, let’s discuss your field of expertise --- insurance.”

Eren slowly nodded in return. It was a nod which everyone in the room had understood at first glance. Insurance was not Eren’s field of expertise.

Zeke did not seem to care though. “Case study time! I have 3000 dollars. Eren the insurance salesman sells me $200 dollars a month worth of insurance and I buy one years worth of prepaid insurance. By the end of this month, how much worth of assets do I have left?”

“By assets, you mean money?”

“Check a fucking dictionary.”

Eren sat down for a second. From his seat, Levi could hear some whispers from Mikasa and some clicks of a digital keyboard, or possibly a calculator.

“600 dollars.”

“Final answer?”

“Yes. Final Answer.” Eren seemed so sure of his answer.

From seeing Zeke’s face at the answer, Levi could not help but think, maybe phrasing it as a question was the better option for Eren.

“This is why your generation is so shit at saving. With this type of attitude, you‘re all gonna get into some shity Ponzi scheme with yourself and some sad saps who actually pitied you enough to lend you money without assessing your credit rating that’s just gonna continue riding on some endless cycle until you all go to jail or declare bankruptcy.” Zeke ranted again as he punched the buttons of the projector, turning it on. “ Scratch that. At this rate, none of you would probably even know how to declare bankruptcy.”

Accounting 101 . Those two words flashed on the screen, the contrast of black words in a default font to the white background of a hastily made powerpoint only getting clearer as the projector whirred to life.

“The amount of debt you can get into in the real world will fuck up your life. So to simulate the real world consequences of unpaid debt, we decided to make your fake debt by the end of the year one of the main determinants of your final grade. And we will be using real accounting to determine your debt. Any questions before we start?”

It was Sasha who raised her hand from the back of the classroom.

“Yes?” Zeke asked with shoddily hidden annoyance.

“So which one is cost and which one is accrual again, Sir?”

                                      Division of Labor

"I told you. I'll handle the accounting," Hange said. "We can make this work." Her words were not at all assuring.

It was Wednesday afternoon. They had submitted their selection for their house that afternoon in class so that meant no more takebacks. Their house plans were due midnight and Levi was not even halfway done. To add insult to injury, Levi was still reeling from Zeke’s lecture just a few hours ago.

Initially, Hange had suggested they buy the furniture in installments. The prospect of buying in installments though became all the more terrifying with the accounting system Zeke had introduced to them that day and the weight of a negative balance sheet on their grades.

As soon as you buy something and enter into debt, the money owed is not yours anymore. Levi shuddered as those words echoed in his head. He narrowed his eyes at Hange. "Really Hange? Can we? After deciding to spend half your salary each month on an unfinished 3 bedroom house?" Levi asked as he gestured to their next tall order that stretched over two aisles. They were in the baby's section in the supermarket.

It was their third round around that aisle, trying to look for a brand of diaper and a brand of formula that would not cost them a total of 400 dollars a month.

“I mean, we still have 800 dollars on groceries if we put our furniture installments budget at 1000 dollars a month,” Hange explained. “So if we spend 400 dollars on baby stuff, we should have 400 left.”

“400 dollars for a month’s worth of meals for a family of four.” Levi clarified. “There must be something here we could choose not to spend on.” Or maybe we could find a cheaper place to buy things in. Levi thought back to the supermarket nearer to his house and made a mental note to check it. The output was due on Friday anyway.

"Hey, Armin and Annie are here too!" Hange said enthusiastically.

Too enthusiastically. Levi clarified to himself. That was not at all good news. If other groups were going to that supermarket, that must mean they think they have the financial leeway to spend there, That could also possibly mean he and Hange had somehow fucked up financially as a pair, struggling to make ends meet. Armin was a studious student with a good head on his shoulders and he chose to shop in a more expensive supermarket. Are we spending too much?

"Let's ask Armin…" Levi did not need to finish his sentence. By the time, he looked to his side, where Hange stood or at least was supposed to be standing, the latter was already on her way to the blond boy..

Levi did not waste anytime. As Hange chatted up Armin, Levi made a few rounds through the two aisles again, his phone calculator on hand.

Just in case. Levi told himself. Just in case they had miscalculated the minimum expense of 400 dollars.

                                      Division of Labor

Hange had a long talk with Armin. By that point, Levi had lost count of the number of rounds he had made around the aisle. He had stopped counting at five. He had done his research on discounts and made some fake accounts and the expense still clocked at $390 dollars.

By the time he and Hange called it quits, the sun was setting. Hange seemed lost in thought and she had been that way since she had finished her conversation with Armin. Levi decided to take over keeping both sacks for the night. He made a small detour to the grocery store nearest to his flat. It was smaller, a little dirtier but it meant a little more room for spending and a bigger chance of saving his grade and graduating. Begrudgingly, sanitation became the least of Levi's issues.

He wrote out all the prices of the important items they had seen in the grocery store. When he got home, he made sure to write them all on a google sheet complete with weight, quantity and prices and sent the link to Hange through an instant message. For some reason, he felt a twinge of disappointment when all he received was a heart react in return.

Of course, Hange still had a lot of things to calculate. Even as they separated less than an hour ago, she had seemed distracted. Levi guessed Armin had told her something game breaking about the accounting process.

What did Armin tell you? You need any help?

Will explain soon. Send the meal plan and house design by 9 pls.

Levi managed to submit the meal plan by nine. He had copied and pasted from some random family cooking website, changing a few ingredients to fit what he thought would be cheaper options. He did not need to think too much of it either. He lived a life many would consider the complete opposite of excess and as a result, had mastered the art of improvisation when it came to food.

His main problem lay with the floor plan of the house. Hange had agreed to handle worrying about the expenses. That was one problem out of his plate.

Even with the money problem out of his hands, Levi found himself working until late anyway. Or not working… Levi was only reminded of his lack of productivity when his phone lit up with a notification.

11:00pm

Hange Zoe

Where??????

Levi only realized then that he had gotten a little carried away with the problem of where to put the washing machine.

                                 Division of Labor

It was a genius idea.

That Wednesday night, only a few hours before the house plan was due, Levi had had fifty tabs open from German and Japanese house designers showing bathrooms and laundry room designs highlighting the novelty and practicality of putting the washing machine in the bathroom. Levi had spent hours pondering the logistics of making it work for the house design Hange had sent him only for her to shoot down the idea an hour before the housing plan was due.

They rented an American style house with a bathroom in every bedroom and the impracticality had dawned on him particularly when it was fifteen minutes to 12am and they were still arguing in chat over how to design the house. In the end, Hange had gotten her way, having brought up the issue of accounting furniture and the fact that they probably did not even have the financial leeway to pay for a washing machine anyway.

Having to deal with the disappointment of losing the opportunity to design the house the way he wanted to and having his unfinished design shipped off to Erwin’s email, with little regard for the effort he had put into the intricacy of both the toilets and the laundry room, Levi was a little pissed. He also considered the fact that he had respected the effort and detail Hange had put into choosing a house and had allowed her to submit a potentially overpriced and unfurnished house as their final product.

And she could not even reciprocate the respect for his whims.

Levi decided then to take a break from it all. It was a silent agreement on both ends. Or there was no need for an agreement anyway. They had finished their deliverables for the week by Thursday.

Everyone had ended up cramming theirs anyway and Levi found himself walking home alone and spending his time outside school hours bingeing whatever was new on Netflix.

By Monday, Levi had not expected to do much. Their breakdown of responsibilities was due Friday, 12am on Thursday to be exact according to the file that Erwin had sent. It was a one page paper with a few questions that just needed answering. They could easily start on Tuesday or Wednesday.

Levi wanted to spend at least just his Monday, peacefully, not considering the program which has been plaguing the start of their junior year since Shadis’ announcement just a week ago. He allowed himself to clear his mind, making sure to just note on his phone to start on the next output by Wednesday. Hange would probably remind him anyway.

He had deluded himself well into thinking the adulting program was limited to those once a week outputs. An announcement was made to meet in the kitchen after lunch for home economics class. His mood that Monday had him living in complete denial of what could actually go on in a school kitchen and for some reason, Levi imagined having a lecture in the kitchen was a completely normal expectation, even with the reminder to bring aprons and gloves. Maybe we just need to put them in lockers or something.

As the students filed in though, some of them panicked and that was when Levi figured out that something was not right. The counters were all lined up with ingredients. Some of the students had recognized the ingredients. Levi looked to Hange to see that she was blank on what the hell the pattern was behind the types of ingredients set out.

There were the essentials--- flour, sugar, eggs. There were exotic ingredients Levi could not even name or pronounce.

“Cardamom, Star Anise, Rose water. What the hell?” It was Jean speaking from behind Levi.

“I’m glad you see the pattern. I’m assuming that means you’ll all do well?” Erwin waited while the rest of the class filed into the room before he raised his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “Today we’ll be having a pop quiz just to make sure you all know what you’re writing when you make the meal plans. In the tables assigned to you, you will see the ingredients for one of the meals you put in your meal plan. Please use them accordingly to make a full course meal from what you had submitted.”

Levi could not remember for the life of him what the hell he had put in that meal plan a week back