#and who needs a hat when I have my glorious locks of red and black? it’s too big for me anyways.

[theswedishpajas]

LOSING MY GODDAMN MIND!!!!! THIS MADE ME SO HAPPY OMG I LOVE HIM 💖💖💖💖💖😭💖💖💖💖💖

Little doodle I made based off of @theswedishpajas’s incredible cover of “Pure imagination”! (Minus the hat because I forgot all about it like the Silly Billy I am 🥲)

You can listen to this wonderful cover here!

[thelegendsoferidar]

Chapter 1: Orion – The World Anew

“You need to get a handle on yourself. This is not the way Orcs live.” The Druid sinks back into my Mama’s kitchen chair. His long red black hair barely covers his balding head. A smug smile sets into his face making me want to slug him more. I watch, composing myself, as he meticulously takes a fried wheel and plops it into his fat mouth and wipes his hands on mama’s table cloth.

“You don’t understand…” I start.

“Orion dear, we’ve heard it before. We believe that you are seeing things in your dreams, but your…” the wrinkles around her mouth fold deeper into a frown; along with her black hair graying I see the effect I’m having on her.

“Now Seren, we have to be honest about her condition.” The druid Interjects. 

“Your … Madness doesn’t make reality different.” Mama deflates. She always hated calling it Madness. “You need to take up the way of the Orc, dedicate yourself to life.”

“Mama, its not that I want to hurt people.” Saying it out loud always feels wrong. K=like you shouldn’t expect praise for the bare minimum. “I want to protect my people.”

The druid scoffs.

He looks to Mama and back to me.

“Orion you can’t protect anyone, Orcs…”

Maybe I am Mad. I slam my fist on the oak table and it splinters and I point my index finger at the puffed up druid and snarl. “You little shit. Coming into my mothers house and acting…” I can see Mama deflate even more. He got me. “I’m going to walk this off.” No one says anything to me as I slam the door behind me.

I rub my face and stare out across the wheat fields. Orcs as farmers. Why doesn’t anyone see how ridiculous that is. I’m twice the size of an elven man and I have as much muscle as a giant. I was made for something more than hoeing the fields. And this whole green pledge. The faults of peace have not stripped away all that Orcs used to be. I know I’m not the only one who can see it in the dreams. The glorious warbands, the drums, the shaking earth. It’s the damn Reformation, it made everyone Mad except for me. Orcs used to a proud and honorable people. Now we are reduced to the farmers of this cursed planet.

I take the watermelon sized pebble that fits neatly in my hand and continue down the path.  The fields of Tilerus are grand and feed the world, I can feel the connection to the god of life Skog, but it is all empty in my head. Am I really unsound? Do I need to undergo a rededication? I come to a crossroad, a human man is kneeled over by his cart trying to reaffix his wheel. His faded blue tunic and dust beige pants belie the simple life of a farmer. Curly blond hair peeks from his straw woven hat and something moves me to help him without being asked.

“Let me help you.” I say.

The man turns back and smiles. “It would be mightily appreciated ma’am.” His eyes are gentle, the type you want to protect.

I walk over and lift the cart off the ground with one hand. He slips the tire through the spoke and notches the locks in place. He stands up and walks over to shake my hand. His head comes up to my bust. I force a smile not feeling it, but not wanting to be rude in case we meet in a better situation. 

“I won’t forget your kindness.” He says.

“I did what should have been done.” I say.

He gets up into the wagon and smiles one last time before quickly throwing the reigns.

“All the same to me.” He calls back.

I watch the man as he disappears under the rolling hill down the road. I turn around to keep walking and then I hear it. A low roar followed by cackling. I turn around and run towards the man. Each foot falls with a thud sending shivers up my leg, but I keep doing it. Its rare for monsters to make it in from the fields, but when they do someone always dies.

I crest over the hill and see the man lying on the road. His horse has already run off with the cart. The hyena faced Gnoll looks up at me, its right eye is milky. It spreads a wide crimson smile and throws its head back into another cackle sending viscera flying. I grip my pebble in rage. I know what to do. The Gnoll comes running with its spear stretched toward me. With each step it closes the gap I resolve myself. I wind up the rock in to the best pose I can. The Gnolls eyes are wild. Red smoke flows from its nostrils. When the Gnoll is just a few steps from me I take a step forward and launch the rock. I close my eyes on instinct; I hear a sickening thud followed by a splat. 

I open my eyes and the Gnoll is lying on the ground, without a head. I hear footsteps behind me.

“Orion, there you are.” The druid says.

[hankwritten]

And She Dresses Like a Scoundrel

Engineer/Spy, 2k

Part of the DontNeedADiscord Pride Week, Day 4: Fashion

“Thank you, Engineer,” I said gratefully, accepting back the once again functional disguise kit.

“No problem, partner,” he replied, gracious as ever. “Must have been a hard three days without it.”

“Indeed.” I sighed, recalling how many sentries had gotten the better of me with a grimace. “To think, less than a year ago I was relying entirely on my own skills of camouflage to create my disguise. I would even do it for fun! But here I am, ten months working for BLU and I’ve become completely dependent on their technology.” Another sigh, this time more beleaguered. “Truly, I have let myself slip.”

“I wouldn’t go that far, Spy,” he said, consoling.

I raised my hand. “No need to be patronizing, my friend. I know the writing on the wall.” I waved, preparing to exit his workshop. “Thank you again for the repair, Engineer.”

But as I was halfway to the door, Engie blurted, “why don’t you?”

“Come again?” I asked, turning around.

“Why don’t you make your own disguises anymore?” he repeated, seemingly genuinely confused.

“As I said, I haven’t needed to,” I shrugged. “And thus, my skills have lapsed.”

“But if it was for fun, why’d you stop?”

At that I paused. It had been fun, one of my greatest prides was coming up with a new face and a new identity to fit any particular occasion. There was no greater joy than reintroducing yourself to someone under a new guise and seeing them have no idea.

“…I’m not sure,” I said honestly. “Probably because, despite my enjoyment, I associated the activity exclusively with work.”

That satisfied his curiosity, though it did make him rather dour. “Makes sense.” He thought for a moment. “But you could always pick it back up again?”

“I’d be horridly out of practice,” I waved off.

“So? We all gotta start somewhere.”

I tilted my head. “Why does this interest you so?”

He pushed up his goggles, chewing on some thought until it left a peculiar look about his face. “Just seems a shame,” he said eventually, “All that talent going to waste. You seem mighty busy all the time, never see you do anything just because you enjoy it.”

I pressed my lips together. There was a certain truth to that, and I wondered internally if I was being resistant for no reason. “...Hm. I... suppose you are right. Even if I do have access to a near flawless disguise kit, there’s no reason to set it aside entirely.”

“There you go! You sound gung-ho already.”

I didn’t, but he was familiar with my habit of faint praise to cover up genuine enthusiasm. “I appreciate the suggestion,” I told him honestly. “…Maybe when you see me next, you won’t even know it is I.”

Engie grinned, and it was charming how vicious he looked when he was trying to be encouraging. “Looking forward to it.”

Of my old wigs, only the black one with its loose curls had managed to survive its year in storage. Even still, there was frizz on a good portion of it, and after a half hour of teasing I gave up and began tearing apart the rest of my wardrobe for something to lesson its imperfections. What I found was a scarf, red and silken, and decided it would have to do.

A full-length buttoned coat, and pair of striped legs. Yes, these would be serviceable.

But first, makeup . I remembered that much at least, though I failed to recall the first rule of application: always begin with the eyes. The result was that I was left with a perfect pair of heart lips and a disgusting smudge across my sockets, the latter of which I had no interest in starting over on. Instead, I retrieved a pair of sunglasses from my trunk. I deserved to cut a few corners after so long, and anyone who said differently could try their makeup after a year without practice and see if they could do better.

When I was done, a perfectly lovely woman stared back at me. The stare turned into a frown. A perfectly lovely woman a year out of fashion. What was I wearing? Leggings? Good god, those were on the way out last fall.

I began to examine myself in the mirror, cursing myself for ever becoming so woefully outdated. I’d had my finger in the crease of Dapper Cadaver without pause for the past hundred issues, but I hadn’t even bothered to pick up a single magazine on women’s fashion? Disgraceful. Something would have to be done about this.

By the time I made it down to breakfast, someone had already made the first pot of the morning. I filled a mug and sat down.

Medic didn’t so much as blink. He lifted his eyes, greeting, “Guten Morgen, Herr Spy,” and returned to his medical notes. By the spots of blood, they were likely fresh.

Soldier was another story. “By God! You finally did it, Nurse,” he said, gripping the back of Medic’s chair and shaking him slightly. “You turned Spy into a woman!”

“I did not,” Medic said, peeling one of Soldier’s hands off his shoulder. He then considered for a moment, and addressed me, “unless this is your way of making a statement?”

“Non,” I shook my head. “Not entirely, at least. Soldier is right, but this is not permanent: I simply wished to get back into a more…flexible mode of presentation.” I paused for a second. “What did he mean by ‘finally’?”

“Are you implying I have been working secretly in my lab for the past two years on some sort of sex-change ray that would be sure to result in wacky hijinxs should it ever be completed?” Medic sipped his coffee. “Because I’m not and that is ridiculous.”

“…I see.”

If Soldier’s reaction was passionate, Engineer’s was somehow even more so. Before he even fully entered the kitchen, he stopped dead, his eyes locked on me. A few times he tried to speak, failed, and settled for scratching the back of his neck.

“Seems like you took my advice on the whole disguise work,” he said eventually. Now he had trouble looking at me altogether, a deep blush forming along his cheeks.

“I did,” I smirked, amused at his state. “Though unfortunately I’ve found my current wardrobe is not what I’d like it to be. I was hoping to use today’s ceasefire to do some shopping.”

“You want some company?” he asked, then immediately got flustered again. “Just uh…cause I know you don’t like taking your car though all the dust ‘less you absolutely have to, and nearest city with a shopping mall is pretty far…”

“Ah, so you are offering to drive,” I mused. “And here I thought you believed I suddenly needed assistance carrying my bags.”

Medic snorted, though when Engie shot him a glare he showed no indication he’d even been listening.

“…I can give you a lift, sure,” the Engineer affirmed slowly, still frowning offendedly in Medic’s direction.

“That is unacceptable!” Soldier chimed, brining his fist down on the table and making the silverware tinkle. “You two are not yet married! You think you can just go on a trip into town while unchaperoned? It is indecent!”

Engie sputtered, losing the bit of coffee he’d had the misfortune of drinking. “Soldier! What hell are you talking about?” he sputtered. “That ain’t- it’s still just Spy.”

“Exactly,” Soldier agreed. “That is why the two of you cannot be left alone together. Do not worry! I volunteer to accompany you on this shopping trip.”

Medic was laughing, having a much more difficult time hiding it now.

I grinned placidly. “You heard the man, Engineer,” I said. “It would go against decency to be about without a chaperone.”

“Fine,” he said, pulling his helmet further over his eyes. “Guess I’ll make the truck up for three.”

As much as I wanted to see if he would pop like a balloon if any more blood went to his face, I decided he’d had enough for the morning. I kept our conversation within acceptable subjects on the way up, and refrained from commenting on his new collection of odd mannerisms. It was quite adorable actually, especially when Soldier would lean out of the back seat every now and then to remind him ‘no funny business’.

When arriving at the glorious superplex that was the Santa Fe outdoor mall, the first thing on my agenda was a new jacket. The one extracted from the bowels of my old wardrobe was such a drab mauve, and with some help from the assistant at Loveman’s, I was able to find a few acceptable pantsuits. One could only expect “acceptable” when shopping chic in a department store—and a department store in America no less—but hopefully the rivers of fashion had trickled down enough that I wouldn’t embarrass myself too badly. The white plaid one was even quite fetching.

Next were hats.

“Engineer! Spy!” Soldier arrested our attention with. “I have located something I would like to purchase.”

He was wearing a newsboy hat over the top of his helmet.

“You needn’t ask us for permission,” I told him. “You have your own funds.”

He straightened like he honestly hadn’t thought of that. “Okay!” Then he was off again, sorting through the seemingly never-ending headwear.

“Some chaperone,” Engie remarked as he disappeared.

“I’m sure we can be trusted alone for but a few minutes,” I said, turning with a blue cloche hat in place. “What do you think of this one?���

“As pretty as the last. I mean-” He coughed. “Looks just fine.”

I smiled. “Here I thought you’d had enough teasing, but it seems you’re doing all the work for me.”

“Dang it Spy, I just meant-” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You know what, let’s just head to the jewelry.”

I shook my head. “Unfortunately jewelry is too much of a hazard. Rings and bracelets make removing gloves difficult, and necklaces are extremely useful for strangling your target from behind.”

“Terrifying that you put it like that, but remember you ain’t doing this for the job,” he prompted. “This is you getting a chance to try something different. D’ya want to wear a necklace?”

As he said it, he moved closer to the jewelry counter. I followed him, peering through the glass at all the trinkets I usually dismissed when assembling a woman’s portfolio. They were lovely…

“Mademoiselle,” I called to the woman behind the counter. “Might I be able to try this on?”

Engie whistled. “Nice choice.”

“I happen to have exquisite taste in jewelry,” I told him, gazing at my reflection in the glass as it wore the blue teardrop pendant I had picked out. “Both when selecting for a lover, or for myself.”

The attendant gave me an odd look, but it was worth it to see Engineer chuckle in a way that no longer uncomfortable.

“I have located another!” Soldier informed us as we took our bag. This time he was wearing a Viking helmet. From where he had obtained it, I had no idea.

“Then finish up paying,” Engie said. “We’re heading out soon.”

“Not so fast, Engineer,” I stopped him as he’d taken a step toward the door. “We still have not gotten anything for you.”

“Me?” he balked, craning his neck around like he was suddenly intimidated by the voluptuous mannequins surrounding us. “I don’t need nothin’…”

“And why not?” I asked. “We have dedicated the whole morning to me, and Soldier is finding ways to entertain himself, why shouldn’t you acquire something nice?”

“I…”

“Please, my friend,” I said. “My treat.”

“…Alright,” he sighed. “Sorry Sol, looks like-”

Soldier had acquired a bowler hat, which he wore on top of his Viking helm.

“-Well okay then.”

The Engineer provided an interesting challenge. The first thing I noticed was that everything in his size was far too long for him, and it made me question how he’d even found fitting clothes in the first place when everything in the store simply wanted to fall off him in tubes. He explained that he usually had to hem up his pants after buying them. I thought that was adorable, to which he muttered a string of ‘aw shucks’.

In a montage where Engie grew more flustered by the minute, I managed to get him into a delightful pair of corduroy pants with a mustard button down, an orange sweater with matching slacks, and a simple floral print button down that might go under his overalls. However, my absolute favorite was-

“Well now you’re just being rude,” he said, holding up the jacket.

“Howdy partner,” I mimicked. “Why don’t we just give up?”

“I don’t sound like that,” he complained. “And I definitely don’t wear things like this.”

The cowboy leathers were the sort of pink you saw from a mile away, genuine cow hide wasted on the monstrosity in his hands. There were more tassels than a man could ever want, and they went wonderfully with the white chaps and matching white Stetson.

“This is an eyesore,” he said.

“So are your regular clothes,” I reflected. “Please, I only ask that you try them on.”

He grumbled, and stepped into the changing room. That was good. I’d hate to have to bring out the, ‘for me?’.

“It’s certainly…something,” I said six minutes later.

“A trainwreck,” Engie said.

“You’re smiling,” I pointed out.

He grinned a little wider. He turned in a circle, the hundreds of tassels swishing around him, and then for good measure did a little two-step. I couldn’t help but chuckle with a hand over my mouth.

A shopper with a mustache passed by and gave us a strange look, and for some reason I started laughing harder.

“What’s got you so tickled?” Engie inquired.

“Nothing,” I waved off with a smile. “I was just thinking: after the thirty-five times the two of use have appeared in public together, this the first that you’re the queer one.”

He paused for a moment, looking down at himself. “Heh, I guess so.” Then he started to laugh. “…So. You been counting the number of times we’ve gone out together?”

“Is it so odd that I enjoy your company?

“No but…” he studied me for a moment. “Would you like to do this again some time? Assuming we can ditch the chaperone.”

“Mr. Conagher, how scandalous!” I said with mock horror. “I thought you’d never ask.”

He gave me one of those charming smiles again, and my heart fluttered ever so slightly.

Soldier greeted us on the way out, hat boxes stacked so high we couldn’t see his face anymore. “Operation successful! Move out troops!”

“Soldier,” Engie asked as he began securing boxes in the back of his pickup so there wouldn’t be a colossal hat pileup on the highway, “how long until you stop following my ‘n Spy around?”

“I do not know. Spy! How long are you going to be a women?”

I adjusted my new hat in the side mirror. “Until I feel otherwise.”

“Well then there you go!” Soldier declared. “It is perfectly acceptable for two unmarried men to be alone together, so you may resume making moon eyes at each other then.”

That, for once, got us both to flush.

[acraftedmistake]

A Person Who Has Never Played MCSM Writes A Story About MCSM Chp. 17

“I cannot BELIEVE you!”

“Stella, I’m really sorry that all this happened. I didn’t think--” Aiden couldn’t even finish his excuse as Stella raised her voice again.

“Didn’t think WHAT?! That our former friend--that messed up freak who used to live with us--wouldn’t try to get in and get answers?!”

“Why did Jesse even think Stella had the hat in the first place?” Maya asked, closing the front door.

She and Aiden just came back from chasing Jesse. Well, trying to chase. By the time they reached the streets, Jesse was long gone.

Jess and Olivia were in the kitchen. Only place with no windows to see them.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Stella sneered, “What do you think, Aiden?”

Everyone in the living room immediately turned to him. The color drained from his face.

“Look.” Aiden threw his hands up, “It was rather I lie or I give away Jess and Olivia are here. I did not want to take any chances.”

“But why’d ya have to use Stella?! She could’ve gotten killed!” Gill exclaimed, joining Stella’s side.

“You could’ve lied about anything--you didn’t even need to answer him!” Jess exclaimed. Everyone else looked back at Olivia and Jess, who had to sit in the kitchen now. There weren’t any windows there. It was the safest option.

“And THESE two!” Stella pointed to them, “Just where did you take them!? Why did you leave the house!? Now, thanks to you, we’re going to need check all the locks and barricade--”

“Don’t blame Aiden for that!” Olivia shouted, she shrunk when people looked back at her again. “It was my fault. I’m the one who wanted to go out. I’m sorry.”

“Aiden didn’t have to take you though, and if he really wanted to, he could’ve told one of us.” Maya folded her arms.

Aiden grit his teeth, “Oh, so suddenly I’m the bad guy for wanting to do something NICE!”

That led to an eruption of arguments. Gill, Aiden, and Maya were all yelling over each other. Stella, whose frustration had boiled over, began to cry angry tears which only fanned the flames. All Jess and Olivia could do was sit and watch from the bar table, listening and watching Aiden get torn apart.

Through all the yelling, Stella cut in, “You know, I’m not even mad you used me for that terrible lie, I’m MAD that you didn’t tell me! Gill and I could’ve been prepared, we could’ve come up with a plan to capture him, or--or slow him down, ANYTHING!”

“You were gonna get mad no matter what I did!” Aiden shot back.

“Aiden, c’mon, ya threw her under the minecart--!” Gill tried to reach out but winced when pain shot through his injured arm.

Aiden snapped, “I’m trying to make everything work out for everyone so things don’t get worse--”

“Aiden, I could’ve DIED!” Stella shouted.

“That doesn’t MATTER anymore! You’re alive. FINE. What matters is getting these two home and bringing Jesse back! That’s ALL.”

Everyone stopped.

Aiden’s face dropped as Stella stared back at him, hand on her chest, breathing heavily as more tears spilled from her eyes.

“Stella…” Aiden mumbled, stepping closer, “Stella, I’m… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

Stella turned away, hiding her tearful face with her hair. Gill gently placed his hand on her shoulder.

“We’re all stressed over Jesse breaking in, but there was no reason to say that, Aiden.” Maya growled, joining Stella’s side. “Sure, she’s alive, but this whole thing could’ve been avoided.”

Aiden could only stare at his friends before bringing his head down, not saying another word.

Stella brushed her hair aside, trying to steady her breaths, but she suddenly gasped.

“Oh Hero.” Stella’s eyes widened. She held onto Gill’s shoulder, keeping him still to get a better look at his injury, “You’ve been stabbed!”

Gill jumped and quickly put his hand over the injured shoulder, as if trying to hide it. The arrow was still sticking out, his sleeve torn and stained blood.

“It’s just one arrow! I can take it out m’self! Really! I jus’ didn’t wanna stress ya out some more.”

“Absolutely not!” Stella grabbed his hand and started marching towards the stairs, “You’re our friend. If you really think our argument is more important than your wellbeing, you’re wrong.”  

As the two went up the steps, Stella looked back down.

“Maya, could you lend a hand?”

Aiden could feel Maya’s glare.

“Yeah. You got it.” She followed her friends up.

Aiden could only stand and listen as his friends grew further and further away, their voices reduced to muffles.

It was silent for a few moments. Jess and Olivia had no idea what to say, they didn’t know if there was anything they could do. Aiden hadn’t even moved from his spot yet.

Jess bit the bottom of his lip. He sat up, ready to call Aiden’s name--when Aiden finally took a step forward.

“Great.” Aiden muttered, “Juuuust great.” Aiden dragged his feet to the wooden column and punched it as hard as he could, shaking the room. He leaned against the column, “You two are stuck here, Jesse broke in, and now everyone hates me.” He sighed, “Wonder what else I’m gonna screw up.”

“Aiden, they don’t hate you.” Olivia said, “They’re your friend, but can you really blame them for being upset?”

“I know, I just--I didn’t want to put you two in danger.” Aiden hadn’t even glanced at the two yet. His eyes were still on the ground.

“Right, I get that, and as much as we appreciate it, you put your own friends in danger.” Jess got out of his seat and approached Aiden.

“Stella and Gill got seriously hurt. You need to apologize.” Jess’ brow furrowed.

Aiden hesitantly folded his arms and faced a nearby window.

“You’re right.” He mumbled. “I’m gonna do it tomorrow. I wanna give them space.” He was pretty sure the last thing his friends needed was to see his sorry face after today’s events.

“You should apologize now.” Jess put his hands on his hips.

Aiden’s nose scrunched.

“It’ll feel forced.” Aiden answered, “I’d rather take a while to give them something genuine than forced.”

Jess and Olivia exchanged concerned looks with each other. A late apology is better than no apology, right?

“How bout this.” Jess joined Olivia,  “You turn in for the day, think about how you’re gonna make it up to your friends, while Olivia and I go barricade the windows.”

“That’s a great idea!” Olivia perked up.

Aiden faced them, “You sure?”

“I mean, we’re gonna be up all day, might as well do something. You okay with us moving furniture around?” asked Jess. He was already scanning around the house, making mental notes of where the windows were and what objects were nearby.

“It’d be nice to help around, and, uh…” Olivia played with a lock of her hair, “I feel terrible that we’ve been dead weight for you guys.”

“No, you’re not. Don’t say. You guys have been great.” Aiden took off his jacket, “We don’t mind the noise. Just don’t get yourselves killed.”

“Ah, we’ll be okay.” Jess waved.

“You promise us you’re going to apologize to your friends soon?” Olivia asked, now pulling on her hair.

Aiden looked into Olivia’s eyes and tugged at his collar, “Yeah. First thing tomorrow. I promise.”

“Alright, sleep well.” Jess said, watching Aiden go upstairs.

Aiden nodded, “Have a good day.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Of course.

Of course out of all the days Jesse decides to leave the shrine, it’s the day he’s supposed to help Cecil with today’s work. Why, it’s not like he infuriated Brenner by leaving earlier this week, or getting Mahlon to nearly tear his hair out during the last Gathering because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Cecil’s still certain Mahlon’s planning on ripping Jesse apart after what he’s pulled. He’s never let it slide before, it won’t slide now. What a wonderful member Jesse is. Truly.

Now Cecil has to clean around the nave, prepare the materials for the next Gathering, help write the next script, and check on the progress with the other members all by himself.

Cecil grumbled about Jesse as he spread his red blanket over his bed and started tucking the corners into the mattress. He grabbed his pillows, nails digging into it, tempted to rip it in half, but he took a deep breath, ran his fingers through his light blond hair, and placed the pillow where it belonged.

No, he will not let that… That animal destroy his composure. He is a Sense, a leader, a shining beacon of leadership, balance, and loyalty. He is far better than Jesse will ever be. Jesse can only dream to be as dedicated as he is.

Jesse’s room is horrendous, Jesse never cares for himself, Jesse will leave the shrine without permission. Negligence and disloyalty. Characteristics the Awakening rightfully shuns.

Cecil? He’s wonderful. An inspiration for all members, one could say. His room is in top shape, his appearance is glorious, and he only leaves the shrine when instructed to.

Speaking of appearance…

Cecil did a quick rundown of his attire. His black shoes were polished, his wine pants and dusty yellow shirt wrinkle-free, his red cloak was smoothed out as well, and the golden button of his yellow collar was centered. Cecil had a lock of hair in his face he tried to push aside, but it fell back. Regardless of the lock, everything was perfect--

Cecil suddenly stopped and hurriedly searched inside his pants pockets. Relief came over him when he felt the torn piece of cloth inside. Good. Good. Wouldn’t want to lose that.

Cecil went over to his dark oak dresser and grabbed the notes on top. It was a small list of reminders for himself. Most of the tasks were related to the upcoming Gathering, which Cecil wouldn’t need to help with until another hour, so that gives him time to clean around the room. Dust his desk, fold his clothes, organize his sewing supplies, arrange everything neatly, small things to make it nicer.

As Cecil skimmed the list, he remembered the absolute headache he’d be getting once Jesse returns. That man will do nothing but talk back and make his work harder until the Visions put him in place.

Cecil was all too familiar with Jesse rushing out of the shrine to cause problems, but usually Jesse tries to be on his best behavior after Brenner punishes him. He’ll try to do extra work, or at the very least apologize to make the Visions content.

But to Cecil’s dismay, Jesse left. Again. Cecil wondered what motivated Jesse to leave without warning. It was certainly a bold move. Absolutely irrational, but bold.

Cecil can’t stand that man. There isn’t a single redeeming thing about him. He knows the Visions need Jesse, that they need inside information about the enemies, but he can’t wait until his use has finally worn out. Oh, how he’d love to--

“Cecil!” Brenner called. Cecil jumped.

“Yes sir?”

Brenner opened his door and walked in, a look of displeasure on his face.

“Have you seen Jesse?” Brenner asked, his deep voice carried an all too familiar tone to it. A tone that’d turn bitter if Cecil were to give the wrong answer.

“No sir! I believe he went to the nearby town.” Cecil stiffened when Brenner’s frown turned to a scowl. That wasn’t what Brenner wanted to hear, but it was all Cecil could give.

“You mean to tell me, despite given direct orders, he has gone against my word? And you did nothing to stop him?” Brenner spoke through gritted teeth.

Panic started to rise in Cecil.

“No, I--I wasn’t aware he left until--”

Brenner raised his hand, “I do not want to hear your excuses. You are meant to watch over the members in this shrine, yet you’ve failed to keep track of just one.”

“I apologize, sir.” Cecil bowed, “I am ashamed of myself. I will strive to do better next time.”

Cecil could feel Brenner’s glare pierce through him. He tried to steady his breaths. This wasn’t the first time he’s lost sight of Jesse, and given how unpredictable he can be, it won’t be the last. He can’t control when Jesse leaves, he should’ve kept a better eye on him, but he can only do so much--but he needs to do better! He didn’t mean for this to happen, but it did, and he’s at fault.

Cecil awaited for the criticism he deserved, but when he brought his head up, Brenner was already leaving his room. Cecil scrambled and followed behind.

Brenner didn’t say a word as they walked down the cold hall, the redstone torches providing specks of warmth and filling the silence with their crackling. Cecil was still waiting. Waiting for Brenner to voice his disappointment, his frustration, but he didn’t. Which made his heart beat even faster. Cecil thought of all the ways he could make it up to Brenner. He could get him some books from the library room, or polish his weapons, or he could care for Mahlon’s garden! He never minds doing extra work for the Visions! Both they and The Awakening are worth every second.

Cecil was about to ask Brenner if he needed any help, but Brenner spoke.

“Have you heard from the people who volunteered to reactivate the portals?”

“I have heard that Axel has been at the library researching different flint and steels for the portals.” Cecil replied.

Brenner didn’t react.

“One member did manage to reach the portal near the ancient mineshaft’s entrance.”

“And has there been any activity?” Brenner asked.

“None yet, sir.”

The corner of Brenner’s mouth twitched, “So there has been no progress.”

“I’m afraid not.”

The two entered the nave. The redstone torches along the walls and by the stage were unlit. Cecil could see a few belongings scattered under the benches that members had forgotten, and below the podium was the basket of money they had gathered. Cecil will need to take care of these chores soon.

Cecil glanced at Brenner, who seemed far from satisfied with the reports. He didn’t want to bring only bad news to Brenner.

“I’ve yet to hear from the member who went to the Shrine of Eyes, so there’s a chance the portal there could’ve been activated!”

“Or it is simply another failure.” Brenner didn’t even entertain the thought.

Brenner placed his hand on a nearby wall and dragged it along. He stopped once he felt the railings of the stage’s stairs, held onto it, then made his way onto the stage, “We’ll need to branch out further, it seems. As much as I hate the idea of putting our members through such long travels, we won’t get anywhere feeling sorry about ourselves.”

Cecil did recall the many shrines he had seen years ago before he became a Sense. It was when he and an old friend had to chase their enemies through numerous sights to try and stop them from ruining the Awakening’s magnificent magma beast. Forests, caves, towns, abandoned villages… Most of the shrines they found were underground, few were on the surface, and there were probably hundreds more buried beneath rubble. It took Cecil and his friend days--weeks, even--to travel across the land. If they send their members out there, they’d need to be well prepared and go with a partner.

Cecil fixed his cloak, “Where should we start--”

The doors suddenly slammed open. They hit the walls and echoed throughout the nave.

And there stood Jesse.

He leaned against a column with a large smile on his face and laughter coming out with each breath. He was panting, his sleeve was soaked with blood, but despite all that, he was smiling.

“Jesse…?” Cecil whispered. Brenner brought his head up.

“Now just where have you been?!” Cecil stomped over to him, “Did you really think you could leave without permission from the Visions and be--”

“The portal…” Jesse said through heavy breaths. Cecil stopped. Brenner drew near.

“It works.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Jesse laid in his bed. Cecil sat beside him, holding his arm and plucking the glass out of his skin with a tweezer. His arm was starting to feel numb from Cecil holding it up for so long.

“How did this even happen?” Jesse heard Cecil complain as he carefully took out a piece of glass.  

“Broke a window.”

Cecil grumbled as he placed the piece on a small, blood stained towel where the rest of the pieces sat,  “If I recall, the Visions wanted you to make less of a scene, not more.”

Jesse rolled his eyes. Cecil wiped off the tweezers with a cleaner towel and brought it to Jesse’s arm again.

“Why they even give you so many chances is beyond me.” Cecil muttered, grabbing a rather large piece of glass.

“Hey, usually I come back with information or something good the Visions can use. It’s not like I mess up all the time. Could you imagine if I kept coming back empty handed? Or constantly beaten up? The Visions would never want someone as incompetent as that--OW!” Jesse yelped when Cecil tore the large chunk out of his arm. A horrible glare paired with a frustrated smile on his face.

“You’re just lucky you came in with good news, or Brenner would’ve thrown you back into that dark room where you belong.” Cecil hissed. He wiped the tweezers and placed them on Jesse’s nightstand before carefully wrapping the glass shards with the towel.

Cecil then grabbed the bandages from the stand and began unraveling it.

“Jeez, I thought you’d be a little happy I found out one of those portals worked.” Jesse turned his head away. He really wanted to move around and get into a more comfortable position, but he didn’t want to put up with Cecil’s whining while his arm was still in his hand.

“I am happy, but I’m certain I would be much happier if I was celebrating and helping the Visions with the next steps instead of wrapping up your injuries like a child!”

Jesse groaned and stared at the wall while Cecil worked on his arm. He can’t wait for blondie to leave so he can actually feel happy about his friend and the portal. Cecil just has to tear away any ounce of joy, doesn’t he?

“I spoke to Radar last time I went out.” Jesse said, looking at the symbols carved into the wall.

He waited for a reply. Nothing.

“He still doesn’t miss you.”

Cecil’s nails dug into his skin.

Jesse was hoping for more of a reaction, but it was better than nothing.

Finally, after several minutes of agonizing silence, Cecil finished.

“There. See how much faster things go when you don’t make a fuss?” Cecil said as he picked up the equipment from the nightstand. Jesse only huffed in response.

Cecil got off the bed, “Now that you’ve discovered the working portal, I’m hoping you’ll actually stay in the shrine and help.”

Jesse kept his mouth shut. He really didn’t want to listen to Cecil’s whiny voice for another minute. Jesse knew he helped plenty in and out of the shrine, the Visions had told him so before. He didn’t need Cecil’s approval to confirm that.

Jesse smiled when Cecil stepped out of his room.

“Bye Cecil! Don’t let Mahlon hit you on the way out!” He gave a little wave. Cecil shot him a vile glare before slamming the door.

Jesse chuckled and slowly laid back down, being careful not to hurt his arm.

He’d usually be much angrier at Cecil’s attitude, and he’d be much more bothered with his injured arm--especially since it’s his good arm--but he wasn’t. He couldn’t be. How could he feel so bad at a time like this? Cecil’s bickering, the pain, the fight back in Obsidian Town, all of it washed away as he thought about Olivia. That’s all that mattered to him, really. Seeing that glimpse of her filled him with joy, it brought color back to this world, it was everything he needed to see.

He shifted around on the old mattress, hugging himself as he thought of ways he’d reunite with Olivia. He needs to think of ways to help her out of Aiden’s house. They’re filling her mind with awful lies, no doubt. They’ll try to make her hate him as well.

Jesse stared at the stone ceiling, the red light from the torches flickering off the walls, and thought of how to rescue Olivia.

‘Write your thoughts down.’ A voice in Jesse’s head said. That’d be a great way to help him brainstorm, plus he didn’t have a chance to write yesterday.

Jesse rolled over to the edge of his bed and stuck his hand into the side, where he made a large hole months ago. He dug around the cushions, eyes lighting up when he felt the cover of his journal.

He pulled it out and flipped to the newest page. He turned to his nightstand to grab his pen, but it wasn’t there. It was there earlier, did Cecil steal it? It doesn’t matter, he had plenty of other pens on his desk.

Jesse got up and walked across his bedroom, stepping over torn notes, book pages, used bandages, dirty clothes, and his iron sword--which he was careful not to step on the blade.

This is the cleanest his room’s been in quite some time, honestly. Usually he was too busy helping the Visions or too exhausted to ever clean it. He never found the time--nor motivation--to ever pick it up. The most he ever did to ‘organize’ was put his clothes in a wooden basket, since he didn’t have a dresser. He didn’t really mind the basket, he never had a big wardrobe in the first place. The rest of his items were usually shoved under the bed, thrown on the floor, or piled onto his desk and chair.

Maybe he could clean around here after he wrote. He could stack his stuff against the walls to hide the marks and scratches, he could put the books on the small shelves of his desk, throw away the trash, place his valued possessions somewhere safer… He has plenty of time to clean since Brenner allowed him to take the rest of the day off. He actually wants to put in the effort for once. He remembers how much Olivia never liked a mess, despite her room always being ‘organized chaos’ as she called it.

Maybe if he cleans it well enough, there’ll be enough space for Olivia to share! It’ll be just like old times. The Visions should be okay with it.

Jesse got to his desk and started moving whatever items he had off the wooden top. It was quite a sturdy desk, considering it was holding up so many of his belongings; books, old ink bottles, shards of broken weapons. The desk was made of spruce with a drawer below the top. Behind the desk and pushed against the wall was a bookcase the same color. The shelves were disorganized, just like everything else in his room.

Anytime Jesse found a feathered pen, he’d quickly scribble on a piece of paper, then grumble when he got nothing before tossing it aside and looking for another pen.

‘There’s probably some more hiding under the books.’

Jesse started grabbing whatever books he could and placed them on the ground, making sure to be quiet. The Visions hated it when he got noisy.  

Jesse would skim the titles of the books he moved. Most of them were gifted to him by the Visions, the others he’d stolen from the library. The books centered around the Hero, The Impossible Man, a few were about old crafts and creations like portals and mining mechanisms, and one book about redstone. He only ever used redstone to make torches, he didn’t know how to make any of those fancy contraptions, nor was he allowed to use much dust, but it was the only thing he had that reminded him of Olivia. Lukas’ missing poster was tucked between the pages.

He was sure to be gentle with that book.

Jesse went to grab another, but stopped when he saw the book of Awakening Weapons that Brenner had given him. This was one of his favorite books. The art on each page, the history behind each piece, and what each weapon symbolized always drew him back. He’s read this hundreds of times, and he’ll read it a hundred more.

Jesse started flipping through the pages, halting whenever he found a weapon he recognized. Most of the weapons he had seen before were found throughout his and his former-friends’ adventures. Cassie and Petra had found a couple in the Nether, and Hadrian and Mevia mounted the weapons they had on their walls or threw them into their umbrella rack.

Jesse has seen spears, hammers, tridents, even a fan, and those were only a small handful out of who knows how many undiscovered weapons.  

Jesse soon found the page that had Brenner’s weapon. A sword. A brilliant sword.  

He’s seen Brenner use it in the training room before. It was about the size of Jesse’s leg. It’s broad, silver blade still had an extraordinarily sharp tip. Despite its length and how heavy it seemed, Brenner swung it around with ease.

In the book, the author had mentioned that the grip and guard of the sword was a dark teal color. While Brenner’s certainly had the teal, it also had blotches of dusty red. Rust, most likely.

Jesse never had the chance to study the sword up close, Brenner wouldn’t allow it, but he knew there had to be Awakening symbols etched into it, along with speckles of the magnificent, red dust. The other weapons Jesse’s seen before had such details, Brenner’s sword wouldn’t be an exception.

The training room held a few more Awakening weapons; an axe, daggers, a shield, and another spectacular, diamond sword Jesse had his eye on. There were probably more weapons stored in the chests.

Brenner was the only one who used these weapons. Mahlon didn’t have the strength anymore. Mahlon has told him how he used to be ‘Quite the fighter’ back when he was Jesse’s age, but nowadays it seems he uses most of his energy for shouting. Cecil wasn’t allowed to use any of the weapons, Brenner forbade it, so Cecil used his own daggers. Jesse’s seen Cecil use heavier weapons in the past, so forbidding him from using them is for the best. Brenner had once mentioned that Antonin used to train with him, and their matches would last quite a while. Antonin often used the sword Jesse liked, the shield, and the daggers.

Jesse uses what’s given to him. The iron swords, bows and arrows, and sometimes one of Cecil’s daggers if he’s able to steal it for the day.

Jesse once questioned if he’d ever be able to use any Awakening weapons one day.

“These weapons have been passed down through generations of Visions and Senses. They are made for the strongest and most dedicated of members.” Brenner’s words echoed in his head.

“Are they only for the leaders?”

Jesse still remembered the way Brenner swung his sword. The determined, concentrated look in his eyes.

“There are exceptions. They may be gifted to members who have proven their loyalty towards the Awakening. Those who have risked their lives for others, who have been beside the Visions for years… They must be worthy of such weapons.”

Suddenly a long, high, quivering creek brought Jesse back to reality. That sounded like Mahlon’s door.

Jesse stood in his room and stared at the book in his hands.

He wasn’t getting any writing done.

He still needs to find a way to save Olivia.

He should get to it.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Brenner stepped into Mahlon’s room, “Sir?”

“Now, now, you know you don’t need to call me that.” Mahlon replied from his desk. Brenner could hear the scratching of pen against paper, and the sound of redstone torches snapping. “Is all well? I heard you speaking with Jesse.”

“Yes. He had gone to town for a few moments.”

“And I’m hoping he hasn’t caused another scene?” Mahlon carefully closed his bottle of ink and placed it on the top left shelf of his desk, where he kept the rest of his writing supplies. His right shelves had the more sentimental items; photos, small jewelry, his favorite books.

Brenner came closer, the smell of old books and wet soil of Mahlon’s plants became stronger.

“No, however…”

Mahlon’s grip on his pen tightened as he prepared for the worse.

“... He has discovered a successful portal in one of the abandoned shrines.”

Mahlon froze.

His pen fell to the floor.

“How…” Mahlon whispered, his heart pounding in his chest, “How is he so sure?”

“He’s stated to have found his once-dead friend in the nearby town. She appeared mere days after the Shrine of Eyes had been activated, I find it hard to believe this is a coincidence. I also doubt Jesse would lie about such a thing. We should start focusing on--!” Brenner was suddenly pulled closer by Mahlon.

Mahlon’s joyful laughter filled the room as he spun and danced around, hands locked with Brenner’s.

“Oh this is wonderful! This is fantastic!” Mahlon cheered. It’s been ages since he’s been so happy, so joyous, so full of energy! This is what they’ve been needing for so long. It’s what they’ve been looking for for so long! Hope. Even the tiniest speck of it was enough to light up the entire shrine.

Brenner moved along with Mahlon, his ‘dancing’ more like rigid steps as he focused on making sure Mahlon didn’t stumble over the rug or collide with any of the furniture.

Mahlon thanked the Hero as they danced. He thanked the Hero for blessing them, for giving those who have passed a second chance, for making such miracles possible.

“It is wonderful news, isn’t it?” Brenner said, no trace of enthusiasm in his voice.

Mahlon slowed, “Aren’t you happy? Excited?”

“I am.” Brenner let go of Mahlon’s hands, “But I will save my energy for later.”

Brenner stepped away and placed his hands behind his back, “Please don’t let me stop you from celebrating. I’ve a lot on my mind on what our next steps should be.”

“Oh dear, you’re right. We have to figure out the portal’s materials, how to prepare the vault below, and--and we need to tell the members of this news as well!” Mahlon couldn’t stay still. He rushed back to his desk and grabbed a clean sheet of paper; he needs to write this down!

“Exactly.” Brenner lifted his head, “We have much to prepare for.”

[eluminium]

Raid (hehe fanfic)

So i made a Masqueraiders (belongs to @reginaldcopperbottom) fanfic because i could. Yes it’s about 3k words. This one has been a long time in the making and I’m happy i finally got it done!

Please enjoy!

A groan escaped his throat as the car sent vibrations throughout his tired body. This was 100% not his day.

Scratch that, this was 100% not his week.

Although he knew that from the glorious hour he rose from his bed, with soreness traveling down his spine like a waterslide. These past days had been hell for the department, with criminal organizations raiding places left, right, and center. Good sleep was a rarity, and many fellow cops were falling asleep by their desks, only to be woken up by a call to action. And now it was his turn to deal with these crooks.

"The museum of Geology...A prime raiding target for any thief with common sense" mumbled his partner while taking a turn.

"Yeah, no shit Sherlock..." was his grumpy response. 

"Who do you think it is this time?" his partner joked.

"I bet on the Crownminals, from what we got these thieves are well organized, and that's their brand"

"That makes sense, although could always be Toppats too. Y'know one time-"

As the words kept spilling out of his partner's mouth, his eyes wandered afield, out towards the rearview mirror. A fog gathered in his eyes as the blinking red and blue lights burrowed into him and the world around him faded a bit. Maybe he could get some quality sleep after this. Just gotta take out these criminals and then drop dead like a ragdoll. God, some good sleep was gonna be heavenly, he could almost feel the plushness of his bed calling out to him.

"We're..he...re! ...Hel..lo? yo..u the..re?"

So soft...He could almost pretend...

"Dude! You there?"

"Ugh, yeah yeah I'm here, stop snapping your fingers in my face" he murmured angrily as his feet touched the ground outside the car. 

The cold metal of his pistol dug into his hand. The museum and everything around it was engulfed in chaos. He picked up on various orders coming from colleagues, but it didn't seem to contain the animalistic anarchy around them.

A tired breath flowed out of his lips, this was not gonna be simple or coordinated, was it? Welp, better just get a good position and-

The ground rumbled angrily as an explosion tore through the museum. His body swayed violently as screams echoed in his ears.

"Shit! They need backup! C'mon, don't just stand there!"

Before he could even respond, a tight grip had grasped his shirt and his body was traveling faster than his mind. Dear lord, the guy was fast! In through the entrance, through the gunfire, people people people screaming loud loud-

SLAM!

The door's impact echoed in his ears as his mind tried to catch up with whatever the fuck just happened. The sleep deprivation wasn't helping at all.

"What...the HELL...did just happen?"

"Oh, sorry dude, went a bit too fast there!" his partner cheered.

"You could say that again..." he grumbled.

His disapproving stare tore through his partner, who could only respond by scratching the back of his neck with sweat dripping down his face. So awkward he was, with his apologetic smile and soft-looking face- Nope, that was NOT what he was gonna focus on. 

They stayed locked in that position, staring at each other stiffly until the sound of someone clearing their throat reached their ears. Both their gazes turned towards this new presence.

"Hello gentlemen, thank you for finally noticing us!" A masked fellow cheered.

His lips remained sealed as his gaze wandered over the man. The man's mask seemed to resemble two shining suns, and a well-kept sun hat covered up his head, even though it was mid-October. His arms, however, were tied up with a rope across his stomach. But even then, a bright and shrewish smile adorned his face.

"Alright, you can stop starring at me now pig, It was way more entertaining to watch you two play gay chicken."

What.

"Agh! N-No, we weren't! I-I'm not even gay!" his partner exclaimed with embarrassment.

Suddenly, a strange protectiveness surged through his veins. His feet moved before his mind did, and he unexpectedly found himself between his partner and these fowl mask people.

"Oh yeah, that kid is definitely gay. Maybe the grump is gay too. Mad respect." the masked man chuckled to someone behind him.

He felt his face morph into a sneer as flustered squeaks clawed their way out of his partner's throat. His eyes turned to the woman behind the masked man, and they narrowed as he noticed more masked people tied up behind them. 

This had to be a temporary cell, and these are its inmates. A bunch of weird...mask people.

Wait.

Mask people...Mask thieves? No that couldn't be right. Mask heisters? Maskings? Mask sneakers? Masquerade raiders? No that was stupid no-one in their right mind would choose that-

"Hey, big guy~"

He quickly snapped away from his thoughts with all his attention focused on the masked lady. Her hair was long and slightly curly, with the texture of the darkest night in December. Although, there were spots of color too. A purple crown with a white moon rested on her raven head. She was, factually, a beauty.

But something about that...seductive tone made his skin crawl, and not in a good way. More in an 'i'll pay you to never speak to me like that again' way.

"Are you a parking ticket? 'Cause you got fine written all over you~"

Nope. Nope nope nope nope ew NO.

His mind was blank, and he looked like a fish out of water. It felt like disgusting bugs were crawling around inside his skin. Wait, was she wiggling her hips-?

"Dude? You online?"

He snapped back to reality and averted his stare. That was his partner. Right he still had a job to do. Criminals first, thinking about why he felt so uncomfortable with a woman flirting with him later. Luckily for him, a name got caught in his brainwaves.

He turned back towards the masked woman, his face stitched into a more serious expression.

"Masqueraiders correct?" he questioned with a head tilt.

The masked lass took a second to compose herself. Her purple gloved hand reached up and pushed her just as purple star marked mask back into place. It only took a single glance at the cop's "serious" face for her resolve to break, and the laughter burst out of her mouth like a botched dam. 

"PffFFFFF HAHAHAHA! Y-Yeah, we are the MasqurAIDHHERERESSS! OH MY GOD, AIEDEN! LOOK AT HIS FACE!"

The gaze of the sun mask fellow, which had settled on his slightly less flustered partner, turned to him. And the cackling flowed out of his mouth not long after.

"ASTRA HE LOOKS LIKE A BABY WITH A BEARD! HOLY FUCK I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS! I THOUGHT BEARDS WERE SUPPOSED TO MAKE YOU LOOK OLDER NOT YOUNGER! COPS TRY TO MARKET THEMSELVES AS SCARY BUT, I AM POSITIVELY DYING-"

Ouch, that was a hit to the ego. The expression of seriousness faltered a little bit as his gaze turned to the ground. Wow, was he letting these crooks get under his skin?

Yes, he was.

He was tired! What can he say?

The laughter kept echoing in his ears for a bit, really destroying any hubris he had beforehand. The feeling of his partner's worried stare really didn't help. It actually made it more embarrassing. If this was 100% not his day before, now it was 150% not his day. The flow in his brain had practically stopped as he tried to reboot his thinking process. Okay, okay, he's got this. Just gotta-

An abrupt and intense movement in front of his eyes caused the mental reboot to speedrun through the last stages. The click of a gun bounced between the walls of the room, and the mocking laughter ceased abruptly. He couldn't make out the faces of the tied up convicts who mocked him or see them at all, for that matter, because his partner's body was standing protectively between him and the Masqueraiders. Well wasn't this familiar? I guess bros gotta protect bros. He didn't have to see it with his bare eyes to know that there was a gun pointed at the crooks. You could cut the tension in the room with a knife.

"Hey, dudes, ladies, and thudes. Didn't we all learn that you should treat the police with an ounce of respect when we were younger?"

His partner's voice was smooth as a bead, yet it still possessed that edge of "dudebro" that was so unique to him. It was such a lovely song to his ears. God, what he would do to hear it more...

His head quickly swung side to side as if he was trying to shake that thought out of his head. No homo, no homo. Right?

The still but tense air that settled after his partners' words broke with a snort and some giggles. 

"Oh? Mind filling me in on the joke dude?" his partner quipped while the gun clattered in his hands.

"Don't you hear it lad?" The sun-masked fellow whose name apparently was Aieden responded confidently. Well, confidently when you consider that there was a gun in his face.

"Hear what?"

Now that he mentioned it, there seemed to be footsteps approaching their little hideaway spot. Very quick yet...heavy steps. Oh fuck. Could it be-?!

"Get down-!"

He felt his hand instinctively clutch the sleeve of his partner before they made contact with the hard floor. The seconds ticked on, and on, and on.

CRASH!

"HOLY FUCK-"

The wall by their side crumbled into pieces as an unstoppable force smashed into it. He felt the fabric of his partner's sleeve crack as he dragged them both out of the way of this brute.

"Freeze! This is-"

The gun rattled in his hands, his eyes dilated with fear. Because now he saw this person, this giant, clearly. Holy mother of God.

The man in front of him bore clothes in brilliant green and black. On his face rested a mysterious black mask that only covered one half, and a white spot resembling an eye covered the spot on the mask where his actual eye would be. Emerald green boots, teeth sharp as stalactites... 

And this fowl criminal was enormous. He dwarfed everybody else in that little supply closet, probably standing at around 7 feet tall! Jesus Christ, was he dealing with crooks or actual mythical beings?!

Luckily for him though, this gigantic force of nature didn't seem to pay any attention to his intimidation attempt. He seemed more focused on freeing his fellow Masqueraiders from their imprisonment, the leaf color feathers on his hat bouncing side to side. 

"There ya' are Ricardo! I'm surprised it took this long!"

He knew he couldn't go up against a beast like that. He'd get pummeled into the ground and lose every tooth he had left. His gaze wandered back to his partner's still face as he tried to think up a plan. A slight panic flowed down his spine when he noticed that his partner wasn't moving, but a quick check revealed that his heartbeat was strong and his soft breathing still there. Must have been knocked out...

He felt his arm reach for a spare curtain that was discarded next to them, and soon his partner rested under it, hidden from view. It was best to keep him secured until he woke up again.

As he observed the big green man whose name was Ricardo do his big green man things, a sudden flash of vibrant red caught his gaze. Someone had rushed past the big hole in the wall, someone clad in crimson. There was no doubt about it. It had to be the Masqueraiders leader himself, Sylvester Wesley. He knew it had to be him. And if he could capture their leader, maybe he could gain an advantage over these masks who mocked him. Although maybe it wasn't Wesley, maybe there was another red-clad mask bastard. But even then, capturing any Masqueraider would be a victory at this point. His pride was on the line after all!

He glanced back at his partner, still unconscious. A seed of doubt grew in his chest, should he really leave his partner like this? After everything that had happened...

Once again, his head bounced side to side. No, he had to do this. He had to apprehend SOMEONE. His partner would be fine, he just had to be! He was hidden, they'd never find him, right? He made his decision. It was time to round up some criminals.

Yet, the feeling of doubt and worry only grew stronger as he sneaked out through the hole made by the giant. Was he doing the right thing? Is this justice? To leave an unconscious man vulnerable? He didn't know, but he pushed those thoughts to the side as he spotted the red-clad criminal again. He seemed to be rounding up the last of their loot, with a big potato sack slung over his shoulder. It was certain now, that was the Masqueraiders leader himself. The black mask and red hat gave it away.

He cleared his throat before once again pointing his weapon at the crook.

"Freeze! Police!"

He met the gaze of the black-masked man and expected to meet a pair of eyes drowned in confusion. Yet all he could spot was a slight hint of surprise and then a kind of...playful mockery. A very familiar sight by now. 

"Catch me if you can!" The Masqueraiders leader sang out as he bolted down the hallway with the goods.

He took off after him, uselessly chasing the nimble and quick Wesley. Gunshots echoed off the walls as he unleashed a salvo aimed at the leader, yet all the shots either missed or were reflected by the skilled swordsman's weapon. Every bullet, no matter where he aimed. Time after time after time again, nothing seemed to be hitting this disgustingly fast weasel. Frustration boiled in his guts, come on now! He was so tantalizingly close to regaining his dignity and getting revenge on the Masqueraiders. Yet still NOTHING!

A roar of anger escaped him, his feet moving even faster. All he got back from Wesley was a coy grin and just...the most punchable expression ever.

"Hah! You're way too slow, ever considered hitting the gym?!" 

"Shut up!"

"You're not my dad so you can't tell me what to doooo~"

He was gonna crack Wesleys skull open like a watermelon. He was gonna do it, nothing could stop him from squeezing that stupid overconfident head in like a pimple. And he actually seemed to be closing in on him! His gun had run out of ammo by now, but he was hot on his heels now!

Wait, was he deliberately slowing down? Was Wesley running slower to ridicule him even more? Oh, this motherfucker...

He was laser-focused now, not considering where his feet were taking him. So when he ran into an open exhibit, he didn't notice the danger lurking by the stage lights. He just wanted to commit some nice ol' murder on the man who kept taunting him.

"Veronica! Now!"

But that, that stopped him a bit. What? Was Wesley calling for backup? But, there's nobody here. Or is there? Wait who was Veronica? He followed Wesley's gaze and noticed a lady dressed in purple sitting by one of the stage lights. She had a very similar mask to the big green-

He couldn't see any more details of her, or see at all for that matter. A scream clawed its way out of his lungs, his eyes feeling like they were burning. His body swayed from side to side, and his sweaty hands were covering his eyes. The empty gun clattered to the floor. That bitch, she'd used the stage light like a flashbang! The force against his face provided by his hands harshened, trying to block out as much as he could.

"Oh, how the turntables turn!"

He felt Wesley's presence next to him, teasing him. Oh, he wanted nothing more than to beat his ass, but he couldn't get his hands off his face without causing worse pain. An angry gurgle was what he gave in response.

"Aw, how cute. Did you really think you could catch the great Sylvester Wesley? One of the sneakiest sneakers who have ever sneaked? With your rancid vibes? Don't make me laugh! Or well, I'm already laughing, so jokes on you!" Ugh, that dumb tone...

"I can't believe you managed- What Veronica? ...Aw come on can't I just mess with him a little more? Yeah yeah, I know there's probably- Veronica can you make a little exception- OKAY okay FINE I'll knock him out and we'll leave with the loot. You owe me a pop tart now."

"Toooo deee looo turtle, have fun in dreamland!"

Before he could even fight back, something hard impacted the side of his head. He was swallowed up by the sweet release of unconsciousness, something he'd been craving all day. The last thing he knew was the cold feel of the floor, and the faint sound of footsteps burrowing into his ear.

Darkness...A rumbling noise of somebody talking to him...He slowly felt himself returning to the land of the awake, a killer pain pounding in his head. The first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is his partner with a few bandages tied around his head. He talked, and talked, and talked. He looked kinda cute like this, hair all fluffed up and features so soft. But he's talking too fast for him to pick anything up.

Although all those thoughts disappear when he notices something on his stomach. His hand closes around the object, his partner's worried squawks becoming nothing but background noise. It was a black velvet mask.

He couldn't take his gaze off it, it was locked to this replica of Wesley's famous mask. As his partner finally got a grip on him and started carrying him out of the destroyed museum, there was only one thought on his mind.

"I'll get that bastard, I'll throw him behind bars myself."

[star-spangledstud]

ROAD TRIP

Pairing: Steve Rogers x (female!) reader

Summary: You take the boys on a road trip. Steve has a big surprise.

Warning(s): fluff, an overload of sappy goodness and a snoring Bucky. 

Word count: 3700-ish. 

Just as the sun reaches its peak and the wind sends humid blasts of air through the air-conditioning system, Steve glances in his rear-view mirror for the fifth time in three hours. From a distance, he can barely make out the car that trails behind him along the highway. The shiny black vehicle behind his is surrounded in a cloud of sand much similar to the one that follows his own car, and slightly obscures his view. 

Even though he can hardly make out more than the outline of Sam’s car, his eyes are perfectly capable of inspecting and basking in the glorious view ahead of him. For hours it’s been nothing but sandy panes and distant canyons stretched across the horizon along the mostly deserted highway. It’s an incredible contrast to the busy streets of Brooklyn he’s so used to seeing and for the first time in months, he finds himself able to relax without having to think about missions and lurking alien threats.

He knows it was your idea to take the cross-country road trip with just the four of you, and the only reason why he even agreed to tag along in the first place was exactly that. Steve doesn’t think of himself as a particularly good driver, but with the roads mostly deserted and his best friend right beside him, he feels mostly chilled out, excited even, and he’s glad he came, because the scenery would have been lost on him if he hadn’t.

Speaking of best friends, Bucky is snoring so loud in the passenger’s seat his voice almost completely overtakes the sound of the mellow tones of Mac Demarco’s voice on the radio. Bucky has been fast asleep all morning, and even with the sun shining directly through the halfway opened window and onto his face, he looks extremely peaceful. A tad uncomfortable perhaps in his current position but peaceful, nonetheless. To this day, seeing his best friend content brings a feeling of happiness to Steve’s insides that he can’t quite put his finger on. It brings him a sense of relief that he’d been searching for years.

Even though Steve can barely hear the radio, he does hear the honking coming from behind him seconds after passing by an exit sign. He quickly glances in the mirror again and is immediately greeted with flashing headlights that shine bright, white light into his eyes. He signals back by flashing his taillights a few times in a row, and contemplates whether he should wake Bucky up now or let him sleep until they get off the road, but decides not to wake him until he pulls off the highway into a mostly abandoned parking lot that overlooks a field of cacti and dried grass blinking in the sun.

“Hey sleeping beauty,” Steve says with a cheeky smile while he nudges him gently, “bathroom break.”

Bucky groans and extends his arms above his head, his eyes falling on the gas station in front of the car. He watches an elderly gentleman entering the gas station wearing a cowboy hat and leather boots and rolls his eyes while he opens his door.

He steps out of the car and makes a straight line for the bathrooms, leaving Steve standing with his arm leaning against the burning rooftop of the shiny black vehicle as he waits for you and Sam. Apparently, Bucky is not a morning person, even though it’s technically already way past noon, and hopes his friend gets a coffee before getting back in the car.

Steve smiles brightly when you exit the passenger side, and his smile grows even bigger when you offer him a wave after stretching out your limbs. Sam locks the car and follows you over to where Steve is standing, the two of your engrossed in a discussion about which flavor of Ben & Jerry’s tastes better. Both of your sandal-clad feet drag across the sandy road, gravel rolling beneath your toes and bouncing off into the sea of sand like flying fish while you’re busy trying to convince Sam Chunky Monkey is an awful first choice. Cookie dough is clearly the best flavor.

“Pee break,” you explain when you fall in line with Steve’s step, “Where’s Buck?”

“Pee break. He beat you to the punch,” Steve says, grinning as he watches you enter the shade.

“She had four bottles of water,” Sam explains when you walk ahead of the guys, “your girl is thirsty as hell, my friend.”

He pulls down his sunglasses and winks at Steve, but Steve doesn’t reply. He punches his friend in the arm instead and begins to follow after you as he raises his middle finger in Sam’s general direction. 

He waits for you to finish going to the bathroom by the snack isle, and proceeds to watch you in amusement as you pick out two bags of sour candy and a bag of salt and vinegar chips from the spinning rack. Sam and Bucky are outside pumping gas while the two of you scour the isles of the gas station, picking up bottles of cold water, a watermelon Slurpee for you and more snacks along the way.

Steve takes in your appearance when you take a stand next to him in line. Your skin is glowing, highlighted cheekbones flashing brightly in his direction when you turn your head the other way. The Slurpee you’re sipping on tints your lips a soft shade of red, and your eyes sparkle when you meet his longing gaze.

“You tired of driving yet?” you ask as the two of you get in line for check out.

Steve drapes a heavy, glistening arm over your shoulder and kisses the top of your head. His lips, soft and warm against your skin, still give you goosebumps every time they come in contact with you.

“I wanna ride with you next,” you mumble when he kisses your lips, batting your lashes at him in a way you know he can’t resist. 

It was your idea to ride with Sam in the first place, claiming you wanted to get to know him better while simultaneously allowing Steve and Bucky some quality best friend time. Of course you didn’t know Bucky would be out like a light the entire drive, and you secretly missed the company of your boyfriend already. You couldn’t be happier when he agreed to take the trip with you, and so far it’s exceeded all your expectations and then some. Hell, even Bucky looks like he’s enjoying himself.

“How long before we get to the motel?” He asks when you place everything in your arms on the counter.

“Three hours or so,” you say after greeting the cashier, “there’s a diner on the same street where we can eat.” 

“Hmm,” he kisses your cheek and whips out his credit card before you find yours in your cross-body bag, “my girl’s done her research.” 

“Of course,” you beam when the cashier hands you the bags, “it was my idea after all.” 

Sam gladly trades you for Bucky. According to him, the Ben & Jerry’s discussion brought a cliff between your relationship that can’t possibly be fixed, and he needs time away from you to think about the future of your companionship. You laugh and flip him off as you gather your belongings from the backseat of his car, and skip happily to Steve, who’s leaning against the trunk while he waits for you.

“Forgot my sunglasses,” you say between pecks, “I’ll go get them real quick.” 

But he grabs a hold of your arm before you can turn around and from his back pocket appears a pair of black Ray-Bans. He gently pushes them onto your nose, and ten minutes later, the four of you are back on the road. 

The motel you booked earlier that morning - talk about last minute - is located in an old mining town on the edge of the desert. From the window of the room you share with Steve, you can see the bright neon sign flashing against a background of tumbleweeds and cacti illuminated by the undergoing sun. You plop down onto the king bed, hand rubbing your stomach after the heavy meal the four of you just shared while Steve grabs your overnight bags from the trunk of the car. 

“Come here,” you whine with outstretched grabby hands when he finally shuts the door behind him.

He chuckles, but follows your command, getting on the bed until he’s hovering over your body, warm breath scented like vanilla milkshake fanning across your face.

“Thank you,” you say sweetly, “for coming with me.” 

“Of course,” he says, “I wanted to come and so did the guys. You reminded us how important it is to take time off, even with our jobs.” 

You were terrified of the thought of dating an Avenger when you first met Steve in your local coffee shop in Brooklyn. You’d seen them on the news plenty of times of course, but had never come face to face with one of the mighty heroes until then. The two of you hit it off right away, and it didn’t take him very long to ask you to be his girlfriend. You remember the day like it was yesterday, and remember even more vividly how scared you were before meeting the rest of the team for the first time. 

It was your idea to take the road trip, because you wanted to get closer to the people who Steve trusted with his life. You liked all of them and wanted everyone to come along, but sadly not everyone on the team could get vacation time simultaneously, so instead of bringing the whole gang along, it was just the four of you. You’d been driving for two days straight now, and so far everything had gone smoothly. 

You’ve grown to love Sam, because the two of you can just bicker about absolutely nothing for hours on end, and you share the same dry, sarcastic humor. Bucky was harder to read in the beginning, but after seeing you and Steve together, he’s grown to love you like a sister, and you him like a brother just the same. 

“I know how much you love your job,” you say, “I just don’t want you to think I’m trying to rip you away from it.” 

He shakes his head, “of course not, baby. Like I said, I wanted to come. I enjoy spending time with you, and I can’t wait to spend two weeks with you and my best friends in a cabin by a beautiful lake.” 

“I hope you know I’m going to push you in the water,” you smile. 

“Baby,” he snorts, “do you really think you can move me even an inch? I’m the mighty Captain America.” 

“You may be Captain America, but I’ll catch you off guard and have you soaked in no-time.” 

He kisses you deeply, savoring the sweet taste of your cherry Chap-stick and the scent of your vanilla body splash. Then, he gets up from the bed, taking your arms and pulling you up with him. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, frowning when he slips on his sneakers. 

“We’re going for a walk,” he explains, “come on.” 

You follow him outside, enjoying the lingering heat on your bare arms when the two of you walk around the premises of the motel. He grabs your hand and holds it, thumb rubbing gentle circles over your skin that leave you feeling warm from the inside as well. The two of you are silent when you walk, the only sound audible being the gravel beneath your feet and the occasional car driving along the road behind you.

An hour later, you return to your room and within minutes of your heads hitting the pillows, both of you are knocked out cold.

The cabin you rented for two weeks is even more beautiful in person than in the pictures you found of it online. It’s the perfect mixture of modernistic architecture with classic log cabin vibes, which are created by the wooden log exterior and glass panels that give a perfect living room view out onto the glistening lake. Inside, the interior is eclectic, futuristic furniture with deer heads mounted to the walls. You and Steve share the master bedroom upstairs, while Bucky and Sam each have their own room on the ground floor. There’s a fireplace in the living space that is connected to the kitchen, which you immediately begin to fill with the groceries you picked up shortly before your arrival. 

Remembering you have to feed three hungry men who eat like bears, you immediately start dinner while the three of them explore the surrounding area. Sam is particularly excited about renting a boat, and you’re not opposed to spending some time out on the water yourself. You decide to make something simple, pasta Alfredo, and make sure to place a handful of beers in the freezer to chill while you cook. Steve and Bucky may not be able to get drunk, but they can still enjoy a cold one. 

After dinner, Bucky and Sam disappear again for another walk with just the two of them, and when you voice your concerns regarding them getting lost in the woods, they - including Steve - have no trouble reminding you of their Avenger status. You’re embarrassed for a moment, until Steve kisses your cheek and the guys apologize to you. The grins never leave their faces, though. 

“Those two are awfully happy to spend time together,” you mention while washing the dishes, “I feel a bromance blossoming right before us.” 

“I’ll pretend to know what a bromance is and agree with you,” Steve places a dried plate back inside the cabinet, “I love you.” 

You smile, cheeks heating when he squeezes your side with his fingers before kissing you softly on the lips. You marvel at him, amazed with how much of a perfect boyfriend he is, and kiss him twice more before the sound of running water brings you back down from the cloud you’re doing cartwheels on. 

“I like your dress,” he says, “it’s very pretty.”

“Of course you like it,” you state, “I wore it for you.” 

Steve drops the towel in his hands onto the counter and moved behind you. He pushes you hair to the side and his lips ghost over the bare skin of you neck, fingers playing teasingly with the spaghetti straps of your pastel pink summer dress. 

“Did you, now?” He whispers in your ear, hands caressing your bare shoulders and upper arms in a slow manner. 

You hum in response and shudder when he kisses your neck, softly sucking and biting on the exposed skin. The way he manages to instantly find just the spot you like does something funny to your heart rate and breathing every time, and just as you’re about to order him into your bedroom, the front door opens, and two laughing men stumble inside. 

Steve groans from the loss of contact, but steps away from you nonetheless, and he follows the sound of laughter into the living room while you finish doing the dishes alone. Tomorrow the two of them can do it, you think in annoyance. This is your vacation too, after all, and the person who cooks is never the one who cleans. 

Just before you enter the living room, the three men are speaking in hushed tones. You can’t make out what they’re saying, but the conversation falls silent the second you walk in and the atmosphere feels tense. You want to say something about the newfound silence, but swallow your words when Steve speaks first.

“Wanna go for a walk?” Steve asks with a twinkle in his eye when he spots you, and you nod hesitantly, eyes scanning the guys’ faces.

Your feet graze the beautiful old rug, and you lean against the bookshelf that’s stuffed with encyclopedias and classic board games like Monopoly, scrabble and Clue. There’s a painting above the door you only just noticed. It’s a replica of The Allegory of Painting by Vermeer.

“Something wrong?” You ask, afraid of work-related issues rising during your first night at the lake, but Steve waves them away when motions for you to join him after ordering the guys to finish cleaning up the kitchen space. 

it’s warm outside when you step onto the wooden porch, and the sound of fireflies and lizards hidden from view creates a smile on your face. It’s extremely peaceful and quiet, just what the guys need; an idyllic getaway from their jam packed schedules as Avengers and the fast-paced New York City lifestyle. It’s nice to see Steve this relaxed, you think when you take his hand, and you follow him down the trail that leads around the lake.

This is the Steve you fell in love with nearly two years ago now. You loved him, every part of him, but you had to admit you preferred casual Steve over his alternative persona. With you, he could be his authentic self. No fronts, no righteous facade, just Steve, with flaws and imperfections and questions about life in the 21st century that he only dared to ask you because you’d never laugh at him for not knowing how to work induction plates and FaceTime.

“This place is incredible,” he says when turning back to look at the slowly disappearing cabin. 

It is. It’s better than any of the places either of you have stayed at since you started dating. Hell, it even beats Tony’s penthouse suite and the mansion he owns in the south of Greece. He let you two stay there for your one-year anniversary. You smile when thinking back on that time. 

Usually, you wouldn’t even dream of walking around outside late at night, but you’ve never felt safer with Steve’s hand clasped tightly in yours. You want him here, and the look in his eyes he gives you every time he tries to secretly glance at you lets you know he wants to be here just as bad. Exactly that is what makes your relationship work; it’s a companionship just as much as it is a friendship. 

It’s nearly impossible for you to imagine him on the job when he’s strolling alongside you on the trail illuminated by the light of the moon, nearly impossible to imagine the brute force he’s accustomed to using on a daily basis. Steve’s not a violent man by nature, but his willpower to win a fair fight and keep the world safe from inner- and outer-worldly threats require him to use his power and strength all the time. You know it’s a part of him and it most likely always will be and you’ve accepted it, but still, having a super hero boyfriend brings baggage you only have time to think about when you’re spending quality time with him. It’s during those times that you realize how busy he actually is, and even though you don’t blame him for it, it still saddens you. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” He asks, watching you bite your lip in thought. 

You smile at him, “I’m just very happy you came.” 

“Honey,” he presses, “I already told you I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” 

“I know,” you reply, “but I also know your job is your life, and I can’t help but feel as if I’m trying to take you away from it.” 

He takes your face in his hands and bends down until his eyes meet yours, “Don’t ever say that again, you hear me? I mean it. I. Want. To. Spend. Time. With you. Too much work isn’t healthy, and I need you to tell me to stop when I go too far.” 

The two of you continue walking further along the trail, until finally, you pass between a group of tall trees. 

Your jaw drops when you reach the clearing, tears pricking the corners of your eyes when you look at what’s in front of you. A dozen torches, spread around the clearing in the shape of a heart light up the entire area. In the center, a blanket and two fluffy pillows are spread out across the grass. Beside it is a picnic basket, filled to the brim with fruits, snacks, and a bottle of expensive wine. 

“What is this?” You ask when Steve leads you closer to the blanket, “Steve! Did you put Sam and Bucky up to this?”

You walk closer towards the scene, face glowing in the orange flames, “this is amazing!” 

“Y/N,” he says, pulling on your wrist to catch your attention, “I love you, baby.” 

You look back at him just in time to see him falling to one knee, and when he shoves his hand into his back pocket to retrieve a blue velvet box, your vision blurs until you’re rapidly blinking to keep the tears at bay. 

“I’ve loved you from the first moment I met you,” he says, “you keep me grounded when my head is too far up in the clouds. You make me want to be a better man every day. You shine brighter than any light in New York City, and I want that shine to be for me, and me alone. I want you to take my name, Y/N. I’m not worthy of you, but I promise you I’ll do my best every day to try. Please let me try.” 

You’re crying, ugly crying now, and you don’t even realize you’re shaking your head until he finally speaks the words you’re dying to hear spill from his heart-shaped lips, “Marry me, baby.” 

“Yes,” you manage between cries, “of course I will!” 

The diamonds sparkle around your finger when he slips it on, and you’re hanging onto his neck for dear life the second he lets go of your hand.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he mumbles into your hair, “love you so much.” 

“I love you too Steve,” you sniffle. 

Yeah, this really is the nicest place the two of you have ever been. 

[shadowthrone-ammanas]

Ghost Kid Chapter Twenty-Two: Allies

“We’re not going to find her,” Snatcher said. He’d suspected as much when his sense of Mu had vanished so quickly after she’d run off. Now he was certain because there was no way they wouldn’t have seen her by now if she had tripped and killed herself.

“Why not?” Hat Kid asked, stopping to turn and face him with a frown.

“Because, Moonjumper has her.” It was the most likely scenario and Moonjumper had already tried to use Hat Kid to cause trouble. It had failed due to Snatcher’s intervention but whenever one attempt failed, he always followed it up with another shortly after.

Hat Kid let out an annoyed groan. “What would he even want with her?”

“To manipulate her into causing trouble for us.”

“Why though? And what do we do about it.”

Snatcher had a strong suspicion on why Moonjumper liked causing trouble specifically for him, it wasn’t something he wanted to admit to out loud though, especially to Hat Kid. “I don’t know why, he’s just an asshole. And, I can’t really do anything about it until he comes down again because uh… I can’t get to the horizon.” It was the one place he couldn’t go, not even his pocket dimension could take him there. It was Moonjumper’s dimension so the only way to get there was with his help. It was particularly annoying because it meant Snatcher could never banish him completely no matter what kind of trouble he caused.

Hat Kid sighed dejectedly, her anger at Mu seemingly gone for now. “Sorry for messing that up,” she said after a short pause. “She wouldn’t have been able to run off and stuff if I’d let her get to the trap first like I was supposed to. But I just got so mad when I saw her, I wasn’t thinking.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Snatcher waved off her apology. “Most ghosts have that kind of reaction to their killers.” That or fear; in Snatcher’s case it was both. “Let’s just go back to what we were doing before. When Moonjumper and Mu make their move, I’ll deal with it then.” Hopefully it wouldn’t be anything too troublesome.

Hat Kid’s face lit up. “Yes! Contracts!” He’d been teaching her how to write up contracts. She couldn’t make them magically binding yet but knowing how to write them up in a way that would fill or create loopholes as desired came first regardless. With help from him, both in the exact wording and the magic, she’d already written one up that would get a contractor to help making the docking area for her ship. She hadn’t gotten to use it though because the intruder had been Mu.

“I’m going to teach you other law stuff too, you know? It’s not all fun and games.” Even to him, there were times when learning law hadn’t been all that interesting. Though there were many people who would say even what he was teaching her now was boring.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re going to teach me everything you know, right?”

“Apparently so.” He hadn’t signed up for that but it was too late now, he was already starting to. It wasn’t too bad though; it gave him something to do and she was a very smart kid, learning things far faster than he’d predicted. So teaching her wasn’t much of a hassle other than for the fact that she herself was a hassle. But even then it wasn’t as bad as he would’ve thought.

***

The horizon looked to be made of clouds and fog. Clouds above and below and fog all around, never getting closer or further no matter what direction they went in. It was disorienting, unpleasant and made Mu not want to look down at her feet because it looked like she was walking on a damn cloud which shouldn’t have been possible. It felt like walking on a giant beanbag, soft and yielding but also firm.

Moonjumper had made a ‘hole’ in the air in front of them though, looking down at Subcon wherever he pleased. It could even zoom in and everything could be heard through it while supposedly nothing on that side was aware of them. It was currently looking at Hat Kid’s ship.

It was surrounded by magic fire, suspended in the air with black vines over a small crater – presumably where it crashed – and showed clear signs of having been busted up but not as bad as Mu would’ve thought. Perhaps despite Hat Kid’s demise it had been/was being repaired. Inside, according to Moonjumper was the vault, fully intact and filled with Time Pieces. According to him, he couldn’t zoom in that much though so he could be lying. But if he wasn’t, the Time Pieces were almost in Mu’s grasp.

Which was great but…  “If the Time Pieces could be used to bring Hat Kid back to life, why hasn’t she done that?” Mu asked, looking back up at Moonjumper. She’d had to tell him her plan and surprisingly he’d seemed to care about her plight, making her feel inclined to trust him even though she maybe shouldn’t. She’d ended up telling him far more than she’d intended to at any rate, the whole entire story in fact, and now he knew basically everything that had lead Mu being here plus a bit more.

“Perhaps one can not use the Time Pieces to bring one’s self back to life,” he said. “Or perhaps she is so used to following the rules on how to use them and was so traumatized by her tragic painful death, she had not even considered using them like that.”

Perhaps or perhaps they couldn’t be used like that or there was a very good reason not to? It couldn’t be attributed to selfishness this time though, that was for sure. So… perhaps Mu’s doubts while lying in bed recovering had been well-founded. Maybe trying to steal the Time Pieces was a mistake, doing so had led to Hat Kid’s death after all and it might not be reversible like she’d thought for a bit there before really thinking about it some more. If so, they might not be able to bring any of the islanders back either or stop the Mafia. And if that was the case … Mu didn’t want to steal them. Maybe she just wanted to go home instead or… try to apologize to Hat Kid and pray she survived that encounter.

“Which is why you should take them and use them,” Moonjumper continued, grinning at her. “Poor Hat Kid has been so miserable since she died. Being a ghost doesn’t seem to be much fun at all. Time travel could bring her back though. You owe it to her to try, right? After all her death was your fault, an accident yes, but often accidents have someone who is at fault for them. Also, if what you say about the Mafia is true, they deserve to be taken down, your friends and family avenged. You owe it to them too, don’t you? Only you can bring them all back and save everyone.”

She… did owe it to everyone to at least try, didn’t she? She’d already thrown so much at this plan and it was her only option to stop the Mafia and avenge her family and all the other islanders. And she’d gotten poor Hat Kid killed trying it, another thing she needed to undo if possible. So, she couldn’t back down now, she had to at least try and go through with it since she still could and was finally in a position to do so. How could she have possibly been considering giving up when she was so close?

So before her doubts could start to resurface again… “Let’s do it. How do we get out of here?”

“Just step through.” Moonjumper gestured at the viewing portal. It had moved to hover above the top of Hat Kid’s ship, facing perpendicular to it.

Mu took a step closer. “Uh… Hat Kid’s currently not in it, is she?” Getting caught by her again would not be good even if she did now have backup.

“Nay, she’s with Lukas… I think. He used his magic to hide her from my senses. I do know she is not on the ship though, otherwise we wouldn’t have such a clear view of it, nor would we be able to hear anything around it.”

Mu had no reason to disbelieve him so… she reached out a hand into the hole in the fog. It wasn’t like pushing through a barrier or anything else but the air around her hand was suddenly much warmer. With how cool the horizon was, it was an odd and uncomfortable sensation. But it was safe so she hopped through, landing on top of Hat Kid’s ship.

She looked back and… there was nothing there, no trace of the portal and horizon at all. Moonjumper appeared out of seemingly thin air, making her almost jump. With a power like that he could spy on anyone at any time and just pop in on them with no warning, not even a sound, spooky. … Not something Mu was going to concern herself with though because they were currently allies.

There was what could only be a hatch, leading into the ship near the front. Mu ran over to it, Moonjumper floating behind her. She turned the lever and viola, it was open. She slid over the edge and dropped down.

The central area was very similar to what she remembered but the ladder and some of the railing was gone. So were the stands with artifact thingies. The little round vacuum was still roving around though; presumably Hat Kid had fixed it because there was no way it survived the crash. Didn’t matter though. She ran past it and up the ramp and around to the vault where she skidded to a halt because…

“It’s probably locked.” She turned to look at Moonjumper again. “Or at least it was last time I tried to get in.” Which had led to all this. “I… doubt that’s changed.” If anything, Hat Kid would’ve improved security on the vault since someone had already tried to steal the Time Pieces and it was closer to the ground now, making getting into the ship even easier.

“No worries. Locks are no match for me.” The chains on Moonjumper’s wrists rattled as he raised his malformed hands. Red string shot out of them, going into the keyhole on the vault. There was a soft click as he turned his hands and pulled the door open.

Mu hopped out of the way of the massive door and poked her head into the vault. It was filled with glittering, glowing Time Pieces. Lots of them, more than she’d even known had come from the ship. It was glorious. Finally, she could go back in time and fix everything.

Previous / Next

[dibleopard-writes]

Make This Chaos Count

Fandom: The Island (2005) Characters: Bernard Merrick, Gandu Three Echo/Alpha, others Rating: Teen for language and brief violence Warnings: Terminal Illness, brief description of symptoms, murder, shooting, brief description of blood, infrequent strong language, CHARACTER DEATH, hospitals, mention of a car accident Additional tags: Angst, fluff and angst, cloning, pre-canon, canon compliant, technically

Word Count: 14,074 Also on Ao3 and Wattpad

Summary: Is it really stealing if you’re taking back something that was stolen from you in the first place? In the wake of his partner’s death, Bernard Merrick thinks not.

Watching the film isn’t really necessary since this is just the lead-up, but you should watch it anyway cause I’m carrying the fanbase on my back.

The study had an absent solemnity to it that Bernard Merrick wallowed in easily. He watched his own fingers tap against the red leather of the sofa. Tap. Tap. Tap. Along in perfect rhythm with the infernal ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway.

“Stop sulking,” said Steve, who had carefully selected a can of inexpensive beer from a cooler of vintage whiskeys. “Hey, at least I won't leave you a widower.”

Bernard glared at him. He had been hoping to leave the question of their marriage for another day. Still not legal, even after their decade of waiting. Hopefully they would get the opportunity soon enough. He had half a mind to march to the capital and write the bill himself. Steve never quite cared as much about that kind of thing. ‘I mean the tax thing would be nice but really it's just a piece of paper, right?’ He’d said so many times before, when there wasn't yet a deadline hanging over their heads. Bernard would nod, ‘Right’, and wonder if either of them were qualified to select wedding flowers. It was the small things.

“You know drinking will make it worse?” He unlocked his phone to the webpage he had found in the hospital lift. For the tenth time in three hours, his eyes glided over the concise little paragraphs, taking in none of them.

Steve rolled his eyes. “I'm drinking to cope, Bernie.”

“According to the NHS, less than fifty percent of people with cirrhosis live for five more years when they keep drinking.”

“Well then I'd better get all of my living done now, then, hadn't I?” He flopped down next to Bernard, threw one hand over his eyes. “And getting blackout drunk is first on my to-do list.”

Bernard sighed, knowing a losing battle when he saw one, and wrapped an arm around Steve. They still had time.

Months later, in that same room, papers lay on every available surface as well as many supposedly unavailable surfaces. At his desk, Bernard had a sizable stack of documents balanced on his lap and was holding a file in one hand, typing and scrolling with the other. So far his computer had coped with keeping fifty-seven tabs open with only minimal lag. Most were various healthcare websites, some for hospitals nearby, others for the most successful hospitals, and the rest for the best options in their price range. Tinny hold-music was playing from underneath one of several empty mugs; the last few days had seen him drink coffee and tea indiscriminately and, in one memorable instance, simultaneously.

“Man!” There was a crash as several thick hardbacks fell from their perch on the stair banisters outside. Steve’s hand emerged around the door, one foot poised over the paper-covered floor. “You say I’m a slob! What do you call this?”

“Try not to move anything; I've got it all where I want it.”

Steve poked his head around the door, still balancing on one foot, to give him an unconvinced look. “Is this still the same thing as last time?”

Bernard could only meet his eyes for a split second. “What else would it be?”

“Bernie, you can’t keep using your sick days to go looking for something that doesn’t exist. What if you actually get sick?”

“I wouldn’t be as sick as you,” replied Bernard, typing more aggressively than strictly necessary.

“Low blow, man.”

“Listen, I think I’ve found a few that could work.” The printer by the door thunked and juddered before deliberately whirring out webpages in glorious black and white. “There’s a research group in Italy working on artificially grown organs, and a firm in Japan that’s trying mechanical versions. Also, I have a hospital on the line about donation and three more to call by five o’clock.”

Steve took the pages and flicked through them half-heartedly. Bernard couldn’t see him from behind the door but he heard the sigh. He’d been hearing that sigh with increasing regularity. It signalled something in the area of pity, which rankled him more than he liked to admit. He wasn’t the one who had been falling asleep in the middle of the afternoon; he wasn’t the one who became nauseous every other meal; he was not the one with an expiry date hanging over his head. If anyone was worthy of pity, it was Steve, and Bernard refused to subject him to that indignity.

“You know they won’t give me a transplant when I’m still drinking?” said Steve. He did know. He hated it. “Ethics, and all.”

“Then stop drinking, for God’s sake!”

“Bit late for that, don’t you think?” And he could hear the smile in Steve’s voice, the dry humour. “The withdrawal would probably kill me before the liver.”

A sigh of his own, signalling something in the area of anger.

“Look, just– I’ll find something. I’ll find something. I promise you.”

“Promise yourself; you seem to need it more than me,” Steve put the pages on top of the printer, voice somber. His hands were shaking. “Just don’t run yourself into the ground, okay? I need you.”

Bernard nodded, unseen, “Of course.”

Steve’s footsteps retreated in time with the hold music. Bernard stared at his screen, at the file in his hand, at the forest of paper around him, seeing only the potential futures in his head.

“Steve?” He called.

“Yeah?”

“Could I take a genetic sample from you? Just in case?”

“Anything for you, Bernie.”

...

    It was snowing. Bernard Merrick was dressed for the weather in the loosest sense: a long coat, a scarf, but with business shoes and no hat. The frigid air nipped at his ears and the snow soaked through his trousers as he knelt in front of the freshly turned earth, which was only just beginning to turn white. 

Steve Gandu had not been a religious man; there was no church, no service, no stone angel, just a funeral, a wake with a noticeable lack of alcohol, and Bernard paying vigil until the sun set or he collapsed from cold, whichever came first. Who did you pray to, he wondered, when neither of you believed much in an afterlife but you liked the idea of someone keeping him safe, now that he was out of reach?

    It was a strange thought to have, and unproductive. He let it become numb and fall away from sensation as his fingers had.

    The last few months had been bad. He’d been bad. Steve had been coping as well as he could, but was also bad when it came down to it. His eyes had lost their life before the rest of him, the whites yellowing as they became more and more drowsy. Sometimes he’d wake up confused, or blood would end up in places blood shouldn’t be, and Bernard would find him with a can of something foul scrounged from who-knows-where. Those were bad days. 

On bad days Bernard would find himself gravitating towards the study even after he’d promised to leave alone the ‘mad scientist pipe dreams’, as Steve occasionally referred to them. Not all of them were mad. Every now and then there was a spark of brilliance among the paragraphs of otherwise uncreative research papers. He’d pursue the thread until he found the end, which was usually before anything left the realm of theory, a brick wall few were willing to take a sledgehammer to. Ethics, funding, feasibility. All seemed negligible in the early hours of the morning, but apparently biochemistry did not occur before dawn.

Steve would look at him sadly, once he would return to bed, eyes red from screen strain. Bernard would smile at him, and they would both be too tired to do anything about it but sleep.

There was no one left to smile sadly at him anymore. No one to sigh dramatically when he brought up a new idea he’d found, or make snarky comments about death and inevitability and karma. It was just Bernard Merrick and the snow.

The house was empty which meant he could slam as many doors as he wanted. Papers flew as he swept into the study with a crash. They didn’t matter, they hadn’t helped him. Disorder could reign among them until he screwed them up and set them alight in the garden. It could all burn.

His snow-sodden shoes made the print underfoot bleed. Memory stick, wallet, change of clothes. That was all that mattered. Car keys, they mattered too. Only the things he needed to get out and not come back, at least for a night. Toothbrush? Yes, and toothpaste. Nothing else.

Articles were stuck to his shoes as he left the house, door locked only due to a chance remembering in the fervour. He noticed the papers only once he was in the car and threw them into the passenger seat. 

Where to go? Simple enough: work. They did good things at work, things he could use. He would stay in his office. He would find an answer among all of the meaninglessness around him. He would make things better. He would fix everything. He would. He would.

...

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this was entirely natural. It’s practically indistinguishable from the real thing. Bravo, Dr Merrick.”

A small crowd had gathered around the plexiglass container. Visually, the contents was unremarkable, if visceral: a wet, reddish mass that was ever-so-slightly pulsing where blood-filled tubes pierced the surface. Beyond the visual, it was the culmination of the department’s collective careers, brought to fruition by Merrick’s own contributions.

Months of work, years for some, and now they had a liver.

“Thank you, Dr Wilson, your feedback is greatly appreciated.”

It was a liver. A real, organic liver grown entirely in the labs.

Grinning, someone slapped him on the back. “You know, Merrick, I think this makes up for all that time off. I bet this’ll be on the other side of clinical trials before the year is out.”

“Just need to consolidate all the data,” added another, “And we’ll breeze through peer review.”

Before all this, he’d expected livers to be bigger, somehow.

“Saving lives, Merrick, this is what it’s all about. This is why you join the industry!”

Adrenaline-fueled conversation filled the room, most of it only half directed at him. His reflection in the plexiglass stared back at him, tight-lipped. Behind the reflection, the liver glistened. It had been made with the genetic material of some poor sod who still had years to live. They’d stopped drinking, presumably, to make the whole venture worth the investment.

The liver wouldn’t bring back Steve. It would save a life – and many more by its legacy – but it couldn’t bring back Steve. It was just one liver, and that wasn’t enough anymore.

“Merrick.”

Trial eighty-one looked up at him with beady eyes; its distinctive black-spotted ear flicked disinterestedly. Only a day old, and it appeared identical to the photos of the original mouse, which had died of old age around the time that trial thirty-seven had woken prematurely and drowned, still half-formed.

“Merrick.”

Trial eighty-one had so far avoided the pitfalls of its predecessors. It had taken sixty attempts to make the switch from accelerated aging, and another twenty to iron out the kinks in developing a physically mature specimen from the initial stem cells. Maybe this time he had succeeded.

“Merrick!”

He blinked. “What?”

“I was being serious yesterday, we need to watch ourselves or we’ll get–” Merrick’s supervisor reached the desk, moving through the jungle of pipes and cables. “Is that–?”

“That,” said Merrick, not taking his eyes off trial eighty-one, “Is our first mature clone to survive twenty-four hours out of the growth-support system.”

“Oh my god. Merrick–”

“I know, I know, but I think we’ve done it.”

“You’ve done it.”

“Well, yes, but it’s on behalf of the company, of course. This is our research.”

“No, no. You don’t– Merrick, the boss needs to talk to you about this. We’ve had people– This is a major thing – way beyond the scope of the project – and we can’t just–” She gestured at the mouse, “Do that. Not– not here.”

“You seem to be overlooking the fact that I just did,” smirked Merrick. His supervisor dug her hands into her face.

“Listen, just– the boss needs to talk to you. Now.”

“Of course. I think I’m just about finished here,” he replied, gently scooping up trial eighty-one and putting it in a small enclosure.

“Yeah, I think so too. You’d better be up there ASAP.”

His new lab was in an unassuming building in the outskirts of the city – the industrial sort of outskirts, filled with warehouses and trainyards all in various states of rust. The main entrance looked more like a side-door, painted in flaking blue, opened from the inside with a crash bar designed for fire exits. In the corridor, the plaster was flaking off the walls, coating the exposed pipes in pale dust. The few rooms he had been allotted for his exile, however, had been repainted and retiled upon his arrival. It still wasn’t the old labs, but it was clean, it was big enough, and it was his.

There had been an ultimatum: he could no longer work towards human cloning while openly under the company’s employ. Covertly, however, with reduced funding and a team only of those who volunteered for a supposed career suicide, he could continue. He would owe the company money for their investment, but their name would be kept from any research papers and, by extension, any controversy.

The deal was fine by Merrick. At least, it would be if some of the supposed volunteers were actually trustworthy. He could have sworn that one of them was reporting on him to someone a phone call away. Another was far too eager to know the ins-and-outs of the process. Merrick kept his office locked.

A small menagerie of animals had come and gone by the time he felt ready to take on the endgame. The success rates were climbing, and their equipment was no longer as foreign as it had been – not to mention bigger.

It was after hours. Everyone else had left and Merrick was staring at the completed designs for the final growth-support system. 

Could he do it? 

Obviously, he could do it, but could he do it with so many suspicious eyes on him? Was it safe to make this final step in the lab, which had less-than-stellar security? What would happen if the spy reported to an ethical committee? Or if his work was stolen and misappropriated? What would happen to the clone, if anyone knew about it?

Finding out was not worth the risk, he decided; he would have to find another way.

He took the design sheet, downloaded the digital backup, and put a coil of tubing in the boot of his car. None of it would be missed, and now he needed it in his own hands – his hands alone.

...

It took two months to gradually assemble everything in his basement, and in that time he finally got used to being alone in the house. He’d never been superstitious, but he couldn’t help but shiver every time he had heard the boiler knock on the walls or passed the cold spot halfway down the basement stairs. There were two new locks on the door and he hadn’t opened the curtains in the front room since he had begun to work on the project at home.

In the lab, the construction of the new growth-support system was months behind, interrupted by small, hard to find mishaps that threw the entire system out of balance. Two loose bolts one day, a punctured tube another. Poor luck, said one scientist. A sign, said another. Merrick simply tapped the desk irritably and said that there had better not be any bad luck tomorrow. Often, there was. Funny how things happened like that.

He had requested a new genetic sample for the lab’s first test, claimed the one he was originally planning to use had been damaged in the freezing process. Now, in the safety of his basement, he carefully placed Steve’s sample into the analyser. The computer whirred for a few minutes and he watched, drinking the fifth coffee of the day, forcing his hands not to shake from caffeine or otherwise. Readings flicked onto the screen. The sample was safe. It would work. Just another month, and he could hear Steve’s voice again.

A few taps of a keyboard, and the arduous process of creating the first human clone began. He pulled up a chair, his eyes not leaving the system until he fell asleep hours later, still sitting upright in front of the foundations of a human skeleton.

...

The clone was not Steve. Perhaps that should have been predictable.

It did not have his memories, it did not have his wit, it did not have his rough-around-the-edges smile or his world-weary optimism. But it did have his eyes, and, once it learnt to speak, it had his voice, albeit stilted as his never was. It was a newborn in Steve’s body, with Steve’s brain if not his mind.

It was not Steve. It was a facsimile. However, it was Steve enough to put the thrill of success through Merrick’s nerves. The clone was a second iteration of Steve, similar but different. Manufactured. Gandu Two Alpha.

Good enough. He would always be good enough.

After the initial birth, as it were, after fluid splashed across the floor, soaking his shoes and the air was filled with gasping and begging and “breathe, breathe, breathe,” after choked sobs in two voices had abated, after eyes had opened, clouded with unfamiliarity, after Merrick felt the blow of being a stranger to those eyes, after he locked the pain away with viscous practicality and helped dry everything down, after all of that, he left the basement. The deed was done. It was alive.

That night he cried himself to sleep, back in the bed they had shared for the first time since Steve’s death, and the clone remained alone downstairs.

Eventually, he collected himself. The morning was spent teaching the clone to walk and then helping it up the stairs into the kitchen. There was no conversation, only Merrick’s monosyllabic encouragement and the clone’s attempt to catch the eyes that looked anywhere but its face.

In the days following, when Merrick wasn’t at work, he was guiding the clone – someone had thought of another term, a euphemism, but that was what it was: a clone – through human experience. The messy basics, initially, hygiene and eating and drinking, but then speech, abstract ideas, self-sufficiency. He set boundaries but allowed free roam around the house, not that he could have done much to stop it. Alcohol had long been banished from the house, so he needn’t worry about that, and he had long forgotten to pay the cable fee, so there were few opportunities for the clone to see something Merrick wasn’t ready to explain. The basement was locked again, cleaned and relegated to the back of his mind.

A finger gently prodded Merrick in the sternum, eyes questioning, brow furrowed with the intent seriousness of a three-year-old with a mission. 

“Yes, this is me, Bernard.” 

“Bernard,” confirmed the clone’s achingly familiar voice, “Me.” 

“No, no, you’re you, I’m me.” Merrick took the unnaturally soft hand in his own and pointed it at the clone. 

“Me?” Repeated the clone. 

“Yes.” 

The clone smiled, somehow managing to make it too wide, even if Steve had always smiled more than Bernard. It was strange that Merrick was more aware of those little details now than he had been when the real thing had still been right in front of him.

“Bernard?” The clone’s hand hadn’t moved from where Merrick had put it.

Merrick pointed to himself. “I’m Bernard. That’s my name.”

A nod of understanding, clarity, then, “My name?”

The clone wasn’t completely dopey, not anymore; it knew what it was asking. Perhaps last week it would have been a case of parroting, but now the clone was beginning to attach meaning to words. It took a few tries, sometimes from different approaches, but slowly things were clicking into place and comprehension was dawning.

Still, the gaze was fixed on Merrick. Still, Merrick found it difficult to meet.

“Bernard.” Not a question. Deliberately so. “My name?” A demand, skewing strangely into an English accent, imitating Merrick’s own tone.

What was its name?

He had named it on the documents, but the thought had been fleeting in his mind, where he mostly thought of it as ‘it’ or ‘the clone’ or, if he was feeling particularly morose, ‘not him’. The name was comfortingly clinical, distant and inhuman. He could shorten it to just ‘Gandu’ but that was a step too close to calling the thing ‘Steve’. If he couldn’t look it in the eye, he couldn’t call it by his name.

“Your name is Gandu Two Alpha,” he said, ignoring the way it felt strangely final, as if this, of all moments, was the one he couldn’t turn back from.

“Gan-du Doo– Gand-u… Two Alv– Gon–” The clone stopped with a huff, frown morphing into one of frustration. Apparently ‘Gandu Two Alpha’ was more of a mouthful than ‘Bernard’. Who’d have thought?

“Me,” decided the clone.

    ...

By the time the lab’s version (which had been completely dismantled and reassembled in an effort to fix several loose connections, twice) was ready for its first trial, Gandu Two Alpha had mastered basic speech and was gradually learning to spell. If it tried, it could probably work its mouth around its name, but it seemed content with writing ‘me’ instead, and if Merrick hadn’t wanted to push Steve’s name onto the thing, there was no one meaningful to judge.

Work, however useless it was becoming, was still taking up half of Merrick’s day. From what he could tell, the clone spent most of that time pottering around, inspecting inconsequential little details. Merrick had hidden all of the photos of Steve in a box under his bed, but it was only a matter of time before the clone got curious enough to venture there. Already, it had blindly reorganised the bookshelf in the front room, presumably by spending hours taking each book out, scrutinising every aspect of it, and then forgetting where it had originally been and putting it back at random. At least it hadn’t moved everything around in the kitchen.

Every now and then, Merrick would catch himself smiling as he watched the clone stumble through life. It was still painful to see that face with none of Steve behind it, but he found himself growing used to the differences and the clone had a captivating innocence to him– it– that was more endearing than Merrick wanted to admit. The smile that the clone often gave him when Merrick came back at lunch was not Steve’s smile by any stretch, but it was earnest and the fact that Merrick was the cause of that smile somehow made it better.

The clone had all of its own little eccentricities: an accent that was a strange mesh of the one its mouth was adapted to and the one it heard Merrick use; a fascination with water (Merrick had once come home to all of the taps running and the clone staring into the bath); and an insatiable sweet tooth that earned Merrick a wild grin anytime he made jam on toast. It was easy to forget that the clone was ever intended to be Steve, and that somehow made it easier to be around him– it. They had a strange little harmony between them that hummed beneath the heartbreak and the stilted navigation of conversation.

It was nice, and Merrick learned to accept that it was.

One evening, they were sitting at the kitchen table playing Scrabble – Merrick had decided to put the clone’s memory and spelling skills to the test – when there was a knock at the door. The clone jumped, skewing the tile he was placing. He realigned it with deliberate precision, eyes darting between the board, Merrick, and the hallway.

“Over,” he read.

Merrick smiled, rising, “Good, v is quite high scoring. I’ll be back; I just need to see who this is. Stay here, okay? Don’t follow me.”

“Okay. Is it work?”

“Usually I go to work, not the other way around,” Merrick replied, dryly. The clone tried to smile, but the anxiety of the unfamiliar made it flicker. The door knocked again, more loudly.

One of Merrick’s peers from work was behind the door when it opened. “You’re a hard man to get hold of, Dr Merrick. You keep your phone on silent or what?” He didn’t, he just let the calls ring through. They were never worth his time.

“Ambrose, what brings you here?”

“Oh, nothing much, just that some of the guys were working overtime and got the system up and running,” he grinned. Ambrose was a relatively young man, the kind instilled with that insufferable swagger that made Merrick want to put him on admin duty for a month. “We need a sample, preferably before the thing falls apart again.”

“And you came to me at eight o’clock in the evening because…?”

“Well, we need your go-ahead before we can make any decisions about this sort of thing, y’know? You are the one in charge. And you still haven’t got back to me with that new sample you were talking about months ago. After the first one got... damaged...?”

Ambrose’s eyes were fixed on something beyond Merrick’s shoulder. Urging himself not to sigh too heavily, he turned around to see the clone standing in the kitchen doorway.

“Good morning,” called the clone.

Ambrose swallowed, nodding. “Evening.” Then he looked back at Merrick. “Is that–”

“No.”

“I thought he was de–”

“No.”

Ambrose grinned in a way that Merrick didn’t like. This was the problem with normal humans: they always had an ulterior motive. At least Two Alpha was always genuine or, failing that, a terrible liar. This time Merrick did sigh. “You’d better come in.”

Ambrose didn’t hesitate, his attention fixed on the clone, who smiled nervously back and asked, “What’s your name?”

“Oscar. Oscar Ambrose. What about you?”

“What about me?” Their voices moved into the kitchen as Merrick worked on relocking the door.

“What’s your name?”

In his mind’s eye, Merrick could see the frown on Two Alpha’s face as he worked on recalling it. The last lock clicked into place.

“Gandu Two Alpha.”

Ambrose shot Merrick a disbelieving look as he entered. “Dr Merrick–!”

Merrick glared at him and played his turn on the Scrabble board. Resolute. Two Alpha mouthed the spelling to himself, expression somewhere between indignance and admiration. It was a long word by his standards and Merrick had so far been playing five letters maximum.

“Work on your turn. Ambrose and I need to talk upstairs. Stay here. Really, this time.”

“I did stay here; I didn’t leave the kitchen.”

Cheeky brat. Merrick rolled his eyes, unable to maintain his stern facade. Ambrose was still staring, so he dragged him up to the study by an arm. 

As soon as the door was closed, Ambrose was talking. “‘Two Alpha’? What sort of name is that? Is he actually an agnate, you really did it? Wait–” He stopped dead, processing something. “Are you the reason the system keeps breaking? You want the tech all for yourself!”

Merrick thrust the desk chair across the room. “Sit.”

Ambrose’s legs gave way as he sat. Behind his back, Merrick’s own hands were shaking. “None of what you’ve seen or heard today will leave this house, understand?”

A skeptical narrowing of eyes. That damn arrogance, even as the man was slumped in Merrick’s shadow. As if there weren’t an innocent life at risk, sitting downstairs and playing Scrabble, unaware of what damage loose lips could do to his entire way of life. Irreverent bastard.

He lunged forward, pinning Ambrose’s wrists to the armrests. “I said: do you understand?”

Ambrose nodded unconvincingly and then winced when Merrick leaned into his hands. Merrick spat, “Yes, I sabotaged the system. No, it was not to hoard it. None of you can be trusted, not with him, so I did it myself. I needed you to be delayed.”

“So he’s your…”

“His genetic donor was my partner, yes, not that that’s any of your business.”

“And… Sorry, I can’t get over that name–”

“It’s better than Human Trial One.”

Ambrose gave a conceding nod, “Point taken.” Then, “Hey, could you ease off a bit? I can’t feel my fingers.” Merrick pushed into him, perhaps taking too much pleasure in the way he folded at the pressure, before moving to lean against the desk. Hissing, Ambrose tried to rub the pain out of his wrists. “God, you don’t do things by halves, do you?”

Merrick glared.

“Okay, okay, whatever, water under the bridge, doesn’t matter, but– do you know what this means? It works! You’ve made a human agnate! Have you– have you done any testing? Like, genetic analysis? Is he one-for-one identical?”

The main negative to having someone in your house, Merrick decided, is that you couldn’t walk out. “I haven’t taken any samples. Cognition has been my main focus, if not his survival. He seems accurate enough, physically. He has no memories, though, and he’s had to learn everything practically from scratch.”

“Sucks. Bet you were hoping for a carbon copy, memories and all, huh? Hang on, have you…” 

Merrick could see the way his mind had turned and was unimpressed. Let him wade through the embarrassment, Merrick wouldn’t fish him out. “Have I what?”

“...Kissed him?” Ambrose’s shoulders were hiked up to his ears. Idiot.

“Mentally, he is a child, Ambrose, get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Sorry, sorry. Had to ask, though, didn’t I?”

“No, you didn’t.”

Ambrose sighed as if Merrick was the insufferable one. “Look, I think we’re overlooking just how massive this is. If we could make this on a mass scale, we could– I don’t know. This is the kind of thing that very wealthy people would pay a lot of money for.”

“Millions of dollars for… an organ transplant?”

“Millions of dollars for an organ transplant with a wait-time of days, maximum, practically zero chance of the body rejecting it, and it would be up to the client to decide whether or not they should get a transplant – no lifestyle changes necessary just to tick boxes. That’s millions of dollars for twenty more years of life. Maybe more! If I were the kind of person who had a billion just lying around…”

Steve hadn’t had a million, let alone a billion dollars collecting dust in a drawer somewhere. If he had – if either of them had – would it have made a difference?

“Hell,” continued Ambrose, “at that point immortality is within reach. Imagine that, Merrick! Once the surgical world catches up, you could just keep going forever!”

“And we just keep harvesting from the agnates,” His voice was far more somber than he intended it to be.

“Yeah, I mean, if you think about it, the net result is positive. In terms of life, that is. If you count them as real people, which– which I wouldn’t, legally. Not if we wanted to sell anything.”

At some point, Merrick realised, he had begun to think of Two Alpha as a ‘he’. Somewhere else – before or after, he didn’t know – he had begun to care for him as an individual. Perhaps it was latent love for Steve, or perhaps it was an independent affection for someone who was slowly learning who they were as he guided them along. Either way, something in the back of his mind reared at the idea of Two Alpha being killed for parts. 

If Two Alpha had existed before Steve had died… 

Part of Merrick wanted to say that he wouldn’t have sacrificed him, that he’d have kept both for as long as possible and accepted Steve’s death when it came. The rest knew that he wouldn’t have given himself the chance to care for him – Two Alpha would have been on the operating table before he knew how to cry for help.

Sometimes Merrick hated himself.

“And we could do it on that scale?” It was hardly a question.

“You’re the one to ask.”

“We could.” He ignored the sound of the kitchen tap being turned on and off, on and off. “If we had enough money to do so.”

“Well that, my friend, is where you’re lucky I was the one to find out.” Lucky was a strong word. Merrick didn’t feel very lucky. Oblivious to it all, Ambrose continued, energised and far too loud for the time of evening, “I’ve got some sway with one of the banks, and if we proposed the project to, say, the Department of Defense, I’m sure they’d be more than willing to make an investment. I can handle all of the marketing, networking, whatever, you’d just have to get the science going.”

“You’re saying we start a new company – not research-based – to sell organs grown in…” He wanted to say sentient beings, or humans, but already he could tell that it was a dangerous train of thought, “Agnates?”

“I doubt the boss wants us to do it with his funding. Breaking off is the only way to go.” It was a valid point and Merrick had already been one bad day away from walking out and never returning, but starting an entirely new business venture had never been on the table – he was a scientist, not a businessman.

“Why should I agree to this?”

“Why not?! Millions, Dr Merrick, why would you turn that down?”

“Agnates are hardly cheap on the production end, not to mention upkeep.”

“They’ll pay for themselves, you know they will. What’s your problem with this? Your real problem.”

The real problem? As if he would spill his emotional turmoil to the kid with the supposed business skills. No. Merrick lied, “I feel you’re underestimating exactly how much time, money, and resources this will take.”

“And I feel you’re underestimating how worth it it will be.”

Sighing, Merrick took off his glasses and began to clean them, using the distraction to sort his thoughts.

Two Alpha had never left the house. He would never need to know exactly what Merrick was doing if he agreed to this plan. Merrick could create hundreds of agnates and keep Two Alpha safe for himself, all the while he would be saving lives like Steve’s from preventable deaths. If he just didn’t talk to them, if he didn’t stimulate their individual development beyond the physical, didn’t allow them to be much more than walking organs, they wouldn’t really be people. Not like Two Alpha. They would just be insurance policies, clean and clinical.

He put his glasses back on. They were smudged.

“Fine. I’m in.” Ambrose’s grin returned and Merrick wondered if he’d regret putting this much trust in the man. “But we’re doing this my way. I don’t want any surprises, understand?”

“Of course, Dr Merrick.” He held out a hand. “I think this is the start of something incredible.”

Merrick shook it. “I want you in my office tomorrow morning; we need to plan this properly.”

Ambrose was already moving back downstairs, “Nine AM, sharp, Dr Merrick.”

“Make that eleven.” God knew he wouldn’t be able to cope with the man so early in the day. He unlocked the front door and waved Ambrose out.

“You won’t regret this!”

“Make sure of it.”

With the door finally closed, Merrick could acknowledge the headache worming its way into his eye sockets. He needed to sleep this off.

“Is he gone?” asked Two Alpha, standing by the kitchen door, just barely behind the threshold. His weight was shifting from foot to foot anxiously. 

“Yes. I trust you haven’t run the taps dry?”

“No,” the clone smiled, “There’s still water in them, look!”

Merrick put a glass under the tap as Two Alpha demonstrated, nodding seriously. “Very good. And did you play your turn?”

“Yup, error. I had a bunch of R’s.”

He drained half of the glass and stared at the board. “Do you want to continue? It’s getting late.” 

Two Alpha seemed to disagree with that assessment, but he also seemed to have hit his energy limit for the day because his objection was broken by a yawn. “Maybe,” he conceded. “What was Oscar Ambrose doing here?”

They left the Scrabble untidied on the table, climbing the stairs to the guest room that Two Alpha now occupied. 

“He just wanted to talk to me about work, nothing to concern yourself over.”

“He seemed nice.”

If only you knew the things he is planning, Merrick thought, before saying, “I suppose he did.”

Two Alpha nodded, content in his first assessment of any human beyond Merrick. “Goodnight, Bernard.”

“Goodnight.”

...

    In far less time than was reasonable, Ambrose had wrangled the lab’s growth system and plans out of the company’s possession – easy, he claimed, when they had refused to have their name on any of it – and into the asset pool of the newly christened Merrick Biotech. Soon enough, they had enough investors to buy land in a barren part of the Arizona desert, specifically an abandoned missile facility complete with underground silos and outdated wiring.

    “The missiles were Titan II’s, you know?” said Ambrose, unlocking the facility for the first time. “They were going to be replaced, that’s why they were decommissioned, but the replacements were never produced.”

    “Fascinating,” Merrick lied. He had never been to Arizona before, but the desert reminded him of Steve, beautiful in that rugged, slightly unforgiving sort of way. Even after only fifteen minutes of direct sunlight, he could feel his skin burning.

    They stayed in the nearby motel for days at a time, returning home for a few weeks at most before something else required their supervision. Two Alpha remained at the house, alone. Merrick found it more anxiety-inducing than he anticipated, unused to no longer being able to check in every few hours.

    One morning he came downstairs to see Two Alpha intently scribbling on printer paper, seemingly trying to cover the whole sheet in graphite.

    “You don’t always come back,” he said, not moving his gaze from the table.

    “Of course I do,” replied Merrick, surprised by the sullen attitude, “I’m here now, aren’t I? So I must have come back.”

    “But not always.” Two Alpha had the look on his face that betrayed his frustration when he couldn’t convey his thoughts properly. It used to be an almost permanent fixture but months later his communication had improved to the extent that Merrick struggled to remember the last time he saw it. “Sometimes you’re not here when I go to sleep or when it’s morning and I don’t know what to do. Sometimes you come back and it’s good and you don’t go for ages. But then you do go and you don’t come back.”

Merrick sat next to him, put an arm around him. “I’m sorry. Work has changed. It used to be nearby but now it’s far away, so I have to stay there for a few days every time. I try to stay here as much as I can, I promise.”

Two Alpha stopped scribbling, eyes distant with thought. “What’s promise?”

It was always jarring to find the little gaps in Two Alpha’s knowledge, the oversights and the things that seemed too obvious to miss. Each one would be filled, however, and Merrick took care to do it well.

“A promise is when you say something and you mean it. If you promise to do something, you should always try your very best to do it. Don’t make them lightly and don’t break them.”

“Do people break them anyway?”

“Yes, some people. That just means you shouldn’t trust them when they promise things. Especially big things.”

“Do you break promises?”

Yes, he thought, though his promise to Steve was not one he wanted to talk about. “I try not to,” he said instead, “But sometimes I get carried away and make promises that I could never hope to keep.”

“Big promises?”

“Yes, though I don’t think anyone expected me to actually fulfil them. Except myself, maybe.”

“And you promise to stay here as much as you can?”

“Yes, that’s what I’ve been doing.”

Two Alpha refused to look him in the eye and returned to his paper. “... I’m not sure it’s enough.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t promise much more.”

An understanding nod. “The promise would be too big to keep.”

“Yes.”

Two Alpha processed the conversation and Merrick waited. Eventually, Two Alpha sighed and leaned into Merrick’s hold. “But you’ll come back eventually. You won’t always be gone.” Two statements, more self-reassurance than anything.

Merrick nodded. “I… May be able to get you a phone. So that you can talk to me when I’m far away.” It was a risk, of course, a hole in the protective wall of isolation that Merrick had erected around him, but it would put both of their minds at ease. He could try to put restrictions on it, to prevent internet access and unwanted calls. A curated library of apps would help keep him occupied while Merrick was alone. Yes, it was worth the risk.

“That would be good,” Two Alpha agreed.

    ...

The phone proved its worth but also highlighted Two Alpha’s loneliness. Previously, it had been relatively easy to forget that every hour Merrick spent away was another for Two Alpha to kill at home. On Merrick’s first day away after buying the phone, Two Alpha called almost hourly until Merrick had to tell him to ease off while he was working, after which the calls came every three hours on the dot.

On his second trip, three weeks later, Merrick was flicking through the channels in his motel room when the fourth call of the day came through.

“Hello?” Even after so many of these calls, his voice still raised as if there was any question as to who was on the other end. It felt silly. Distant.

“Hi, Bernard.”

Usually it was at this point that Two Alpha would choose an arbitrary conversation starter, anything from the weather to where paper came from. Instead, there was quiet. Merrick pulled the phone from his ear, checked the call was still working, then put it back and asked, “Are you still there?”

“Yeah,” came the voice, strained in the way voices were when their face was pressed into a pillow. “We don’t need to talk. I just…” There was a staticky sigh. “We can just be together like this.”

Something hurt beneath his collarbone and he pretended it had nothing to do with the creeping guilt rising in the back of his mind.

“Okay,” he replied, voice strained in the way voices were when emotion pressed into them. Strange how such abstract things had such physical symptoms.

Steve had liked these moments, the ones where the conversation had run dry and there was nothing but companionable silence. Nothing owed, no performance, no give and take, just being near someone you loved. That was what he lived for. He enjoyed the rest of it, sure, but this– this was what the it all amounted to. When he had explained this, half-asleep on Bernard’s shoulder,

Beyond Steve, however, Merrick found people’s presences grating. They were always watching too intently or not listening enough or putting far too much thought into the act of existing near him. It made him hyper-aware of every infuriating aspect of the situation, on guard and tiring. Steve made it easy to drift, semi-conscious, relaxed. With Two Alpha he had never been truly on edge, rather wary of his own tongue slipping, saying something that would break the translucent illusion he now lived in. As such, the silence of Two Alpha was comforting in a completely different way; no chance of error when there was uncomplicated quiet between them.

Merrick lay back and allowed himself the calm.

Construction was underway at the facility, installing new wiring and digging out new space. He didn’t pretend to know much of what any of it meant, why any of it was happening the way it was, but the schematics that he had been talked through seemed sound enough to his inexpert eye. Ideally, he’d be able to let the construction team do their work and stay home, but such projects were never without their hitches and Ambrose was never without his impatience.

“I know you have your hang-ups about this whole thing,” he had said that day, having dragged Merrick into an unpainted office, “But we need you to be here. Like, really be here. Whatever’s going on in that head of yours can’t take up so much of your attention; yesterday you signed off on a cement order that was ten times under what we need – if I hadn’t caught it this morning we’d be another week behind schedule.”

“You said I wouldn’t have to handle any of this.”

“Cross-checking numbers hardly needs a business degree, Merrick! Your head isn’t in the game. I’m here a week more than you per month. What’s your excuse?”

“Well, unlike you, I have responsibilities at home.”

“What? The agnate?”

Merrick had clenched his teeth and tried his hardest not to glare too venomously – the last thing he needed was to get over-defensive. That way lay exposing himself to a man who would not hesitate to attack such weakness in the name of the bigger picture. Ambrose took his terse silence as a confirmation.

“The agnate can manage by itself – it has so far. This is so much bigger than that, this needs you to put the effort in. What difference will it make to the agnate? You just won’t be around three goddamn weeks a month – who do you know with that sort of time off? It doesn’t happen! This is work, so treat it like work. Prioritise.”

“My private life is just that: private,” Merrick had replied, enunciating sharply, “You would do well to remind yourself of that, Oscar.” And then he had left, wondering if he regretted using Ambrose’s first name. In the end, he decided that he didn’t, which was the easiest problem to solve.

The entire conversation had been repeating in his head like a blinking indicator, only silenced once the underlying issue was confronted. It was true that his total working hours had tanked after leaving the company and it was true that he rarely had more than seventy-five percent of his brain focused within those hours, however there was an entire life hinging on his own and it did so far more directly than the abstract lives that Merrick Biotech could save.

Two Alpha hated being alone and Merrick was loath to extend that time anymore than he had. Already, Two Alpha was navigating more negative emotions than he had ever felt and Merrick could only guide him so well with an entire week of absence looming over both of them, let alone two. The dependence could be called unhealthy if not for Two Alpha’s age.

Still, the tension was undoing them both, the phone simply a loosened valve to release the pressure before something exploded. A coin-sized valve in the Hoover dam, more a weak spot for the pressure to crack than any real aid. Perhaps Two Alpha needed to learn to alleviate the tension by himself, reduce his dependence just enough that there wasn’t such a weight on Merrick’s shoulders.

But how to do it?

He would need to do some research – out of work hours – but he should let Two Alpha down slowly before he could let himself get caught up in radical solutions. Gradually easing him off calling so regularly would help. That was a simple enough step to take.

The phone told him that the call had lasted over ten minutes, most of which was dead air. Their silence hadn’t yet been broken. He sighed.

“Hey.” Thinking about it, he’d never addressed him as Two Alpha. Perhaps it was a bit too inhuman. But was now really the time to think of a more endearing name? “You know that I get charged per minute?”

“For what?” The voice was soft, the tension melted away. Merrick hated the way that his couldn’t do the same.

“For these calls.” Silence. “So– so I’m going to have to go now. We can talk tomorrow. Or not talk. Up to you.”

“Oh.” Soft again, but not in the same way. Damn it. “Okay.”

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Bernard. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, instinctively, though he didn’t quite know what for. In the moments it took for him to wonder, the line went dead.

...

Merrick stayed in Arizona for three days longer than he had originally planned, if only to get Ambrose off his back. Two Alpha had kept his calls to twice a day, morning and evening and kept both strictly within ten minutes. Merrick supposed that his words had gone deeper than intended and Two Alpha was hyper-aware of the time and money Merrick was using to talk to him. It was charming, in a bittersweet kind of way.

He was hoping that Two Alpha hadn’t noticed his extended stay, and as such he hadn’t brought it up. He would be back soon enough.

On the morning of his last day, the phone rang at eight o’clock exactly.

“Where are you?”

“I’m at work.”

“You can’t come back?” 

“Unless there’s an emergency,” he lied. Two Alpha had clung to his promise, used it to reason his way through Merrick’s absence. It felt cruel to exploit that trust, break the promise, but the semantics of whether or not he truly could have returned earlier saved him from complete self-hatred.

“No, no emergency. Is there an emergency with you?”

“No, why would there be?”

“I dunno.”

The rest of the conversation was subdued, though Two Alpha often tended to grow withdrawn in his loneliness until Merrick returned and he bounced back. Nothing abnormal. No reason to be concerned. None at all.

Hours later, when Merrick was digitising spreadsheets at something resembling a desk, the phone rang again. He frowned at it and picked it up with a speed he would never admit to being panicked.

“Mr Merrick?” asked an unfamiliar voice.

“Yes?”

“I’m calling from St Luke’s Hospital about a patient we’ve just received from a recent motor incident. You were the only emergency contact.”

“What?” he croaked.

“Unfortunately, the patient had no ID and was unable to provide a name. Are you able to come to the hospital at this time?”

No. No. It couldn’t be–

“I– I’m in Arizona, I can get there in– nine hours? Where did you find him?”

The matter-of-fact tone of the answer didn’t help calm him as the caller listed an address barely ten metres from his house. Already, the spreadsheets were abandoned in the wake of his strides to the nearest exit.

“What condition is he in?”

“I can’t tell you much without you here to confirm your identity and relation to the patient, but his prognosis is poor. What did you say his name is?”

Merrick hung up. That was not a question he would ever be able to answer, not to anyone other than Two Alpha himself. Even then…

No. Now was not the time.

He ran.

...

Since the 2007 American Transport Initiative, high-speed maglevs connected major cities down each coast and across the southern states, drastically reducing travel times on even cross-continental scales. Unfortunately, there was still a two hour drive to the Phoenix station – perhaps once the system was more established he could petition for another to be built in Tucson, the drive was easily the most grating experience of his life – a four hour trip along the Latitude Line, and another three hours of sporadic stop-starting up the Eastern Seaboard. His loose interpretation of the speed limit in Arizona cut thirty minutes off his prediction but the extended adrenaline high made the journey feel like aeons.

He was already hammering the open door button when the train hummed to a stop and squeezed through the moment the doors allowed him. No one batted an eye at the sight of yet another smartly dressed man rushing with no regard for those in his way and he wouldn’t have noticed if they had. The route to the hospital memorised on the journey, he was a gale force wind weaving between the crowds.

Merrick practically collided with the reception desk, making the receptionist jerk back in her rolling chair.

“I’m here for–” he gasped, caught his breath again, “For a man. Admitted about nine hours ago, no ID. I was called–”

The receptionist typed in the number he showed her once he fumbled his phone over the desk. “Well, the numbers match but we’ll need a proof of identity for you and also what relation you have to him.”

“I’m– I’m Bernard Merrick. I’m all he has, he has no family– except– except me. Please, I need to see him.”

“He has no name on the record, do you–”

“Where is he?”

“Just follow the blue line, he should be in room six. I’ll let them know you’re coming.”

Merrick just about managed, “Thank you,” before he was moving again. Blue line. The signs blurring past identified it as the route to the ICU but the blurring was in his head as much as his vision. All he could see was the line. It was all he needed to see.

There was a man standing outside room six. Merrick almost missed him in his determination to pass through the door, but he stepped in the way, placing a hand on Merrick’s shoulder. The hold was probably meant to have some compassion to it, but all he registered was the firmness keeping him from entering.

“Mr Merrick, I presume? Please, a word before you go in.”

There must have been something wild in his eyes when they met the man’s face, because the grip on his shoulder became tighter.

“I’m Dr Colby; I’ve been looking after the patient since his arrival in the department. He is… gravely wounded. Honestly, I’m amazed he’s lasted this long. When you go in there, please, be gentle. The state he’s in may be shocking to see, but you must stay calm, for his sake.” Colby caught his eyes as they darted to the door. “Breathe, Mr Merrick. And… prepare yourself – it is unlikely that he’ll recover.”

Blood was rushing through his ears but those final words rang through his mind clear as anything. They couldn’t be true, the doctor was just pessimistic; he’d seen too many deaths in his career, he was seeing a ghost where there wasn’t one. Two Alpha would make it through. 

Nevertheless. “I need to see him.”

“He has been somewhat aware of his surroundings, so he may be able to talk to you. The best we’ve got from him is what we believe to be his first name, Alf, right?”

Merrick nodded, no longer feeling tethered to reality.

“The worst injuries were elsewhere – his heart has been… erratic. Try to keep any conversation from working him up. Just be there for him, okay?”

Frustration bubbled up – I know, that’s what I’ve been trying to do – but it was distant, as if it hadn’t accompanied him all the way from Arizona. All he could do was croak, “Please.”

Colby nodded solemnly and opened the door. Behind was a small room made smaller by the abundance of machinery, most of it feeding back to the pale shape on the bed. Merrick moved in, suddenly slowed as if moving over sacred ground.

“Hey,” he said, softly, and the eyes opened and his own began to sting. Two Alpha’s eyes were bloodshot to the extreme that the whites of one had become rust-dark. They looked up at him drowsily.

“...Bernard?” His voice was raw, from disuse or pained screaming Merrick couldn’t tell. He took the hand that tried to lift itself off the bed, weighed by the IV line. The fingers were cold but they wrapped around his, fitting like Steves’ had, positioned like his didn’t. 

“Yes, it’s me. I’m here.” Merrick had taken Steve’s left hand, at the end, traced the ring there, covered the back of his hand with his own. Now, he was on Two Alpha’s right, and the hand was upturned, nothing to trace but those lines he didn’t know how to read. Life line. Heart line. Fate line. Illegible.

“Good… I was… worried about you.”

“Worried? Why should you be worried?”

“You didn’t come back. I know you said–” Two Alpha’s voice caught on its raw edges and on the shortness of breath. Perhaps it caught on something else, Merrick could hardly judge. “You said that you would always come back, if you could, and you couldn’t always because of work but– usually you’re back after seven days, sometimes it’s eight. So I waited and– you were away for ten days, no coming back, so I thought–” He sniffed, a thin tear track catching the light to become visible. “I know– I know it wasn’t– you were still on the phone. Looking back, I shouldn’t have worried ‘cause you were still answering, but– I thought maybe something had happened so I went out, the way you go when you leave. To find you.”

He was openly sobbing now, the monitors around him grumbling at the strain it put on his respiratory system. Merrick knew that if he turned his attention to himself, he would see the same sorrow and regret on his own face, but he didn’t, his focus purely on the man on the bed. The man who, if he was willing to admit it, did look terrifyingly delicate. 

It was only in comparison to the clinically white sheets that Two Alpha’s skin looked at all alive. There were bandages covering half of what was visible, bruises covering what remained. Every movement, down to blinking, was measured, pained, subdued. All except the crying.

“I don’t remember– I walked for a bit, I think, then–” He tried to screw his eyes shut as if to block out the sensations still wracking his body, but the bruising was too much to do more than furrow his brow.

“It’s okay,” said Merrick, beginning to stroke the hand with his thumb. “It’s okay. I’m here now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too. I should have kept you informed, that’s my fault.”

Two Alpha simply opened his eyes to look at him grimly. There was a depth, a weight to him now that there hadn’t been and Merrick desperately wished to relieve him of it. He met his gaze, unflinching, and let it hurt.

After a while, Two Alpha whispered, barely audible over the machines, “What’s going to happen to me?”

Merrick wished he could offer some spiritual belief, some promise of heaven or of rest. He wished that his first thought in response hadn’t been death, that clinging to his hope of Two Alpha’s survival wasn’t as hollowly delusional as it suddenly felt. He wished that he had anything to say that wasn’t a lie.

“I don’t know.”

“I– I never thought about it. ‘Cause I can only remember being alive, and you being alive too. But, now that… There must have been a time when I wasn’t alive, right?” He watched, a warped half-pride at working it out in his eyes, as Merrick nodded. “So… I think that maybe it’ll happen again. ‘Cause I feel like I’m… running out.”

Merrick felt himself slump forwards, head on their hands, his breathing refusing to work normally. It couldn’t happen again. Was it inevitable? If he tried again, would he be forced to watch this face die again, inhabited by yet another person with his own quirks, his unique endearing traits, a new name? A different death; illness, injury, what else? How many cooling hands would he have to hold for daring to pursue a different, kinder fate?

“You’re okay,” he said into the sheets.

“It hurts.”

Pulling his head back up, he moved one hand to Two Alpha’s shoulder, holding as lightly as he could to avoid causing any further pain. “I know,” he said, “But I’m here now. I’m here as long as you need.”

A weak smile. “Thank you.”

As he returned the smile, he pushed all of his sincerity to the fore. “I love you.”

It wasn’t the same love he had for Steve, but it didn’t need to be, because this was Two Alpha and he was enough. Love was the thing tearing him down from the inside, no regard for dignity, undeniable. Two Alpha deserved to know. If Merrick didn’t love him, he’d have lived his entire life unloved.

“Thank you,” Two Alpha repeated, “I love you too.”

With that, tears finally fell, landing on Two Alpha’s arm. Tap. Tap. Tap.

“It’s okay,” he added, echoing Merrick’s speech the way he had when he was still learning. How long ago? A year? He was so painfully young… “You’re okay.”

All Merrick could do was repeat, “I’m sorry.” You deserved better.

“I think, maybe…” mumbled Two Alpha, eyes becoming drowsy, “Maybe it’ll just be like… those times on the phone. When we don’t talk… and we can’t see… but we’re together anyway. I’d like it, if it was like that.”

“Perhaps it will be.” The tears made his voice wet, but the words didn’t taste of cruel deception. It sounded like a good afterlife, for one invented by a clone with barely any life lived to speak of.

A twitch of lips, probably intended to be a smile. “I’m glad you came back.”

“Me too.”

Then Two Alpha closed his eyes and his breathing slowed. The fingers in his hand slackened their grip. Merrick didn’t take in much after that, even as the flatline drilled through his skull and medics bustled around him. What did any of that matter, anyway?

The important thing was that face, tranquil despite the wounds, motionless again. The important thing was Two Alpha and the heavy silence between them. He half expected to hear the click of a phone disconnecting.

...

This time the aftermath had no storm to it. He didn’t march home, threatening to burn everything in sight. He didn’t go to work and start shouting at Ambrose – though he probably deserved it. No, instead he began to make a list of criteria for the new facility. If they were going to have half an army of walking organs biding their time underground, they would need to do it properly.

The plan as it stood was to teach the agnates hygiene, nutrition, exercise, but nothing that would constitute a normal education. Speech would be necessary, reading less so but perhaps convenient. They would simply need to keep themselves healthy until their time came. Minimising contact to just staff members was also outlined in the initial protocol, though it sat uncomfortably with Merrick. He had no better plan, however. If they could communicate with each other, they would eventually catch on that some disappeared and never returned.

It would be easier, he found himself thinking at least once a day, if they never woke up and could just remain in those gel sacs until they were needed. Unfortunately, all of the animal trials proved it impossible or at least too much effort to be a better option. Once the agnates reached the end of their growth cycle they would wake up regardless of whether they had been taken out, occasionally drowning if they weren’t removed quickly enough. And if they were kept unconscious from there, they would atrophy – brains never finalising their development quite right, muscles never developing, digestion system shutting down without ever being used properly. Unfit for transplant donation.

The investment required to keep them in any fit state was major either way, but at least there were fewer fatal risks when they were allowed consciousness. So, living beings. Care to be taken to do it right.

From his list, Merrick found a sense of purpose in monitoring the construction efforts, making sure everything was as it should be, compiling another list of potential scientists, maintenance workers, caterers, making sure there was enough accommodation in the area, streamlining the growth-support system, getting a small team of lawyers to handle NDAs.

Maybe there was a storm, but he had found the eye more quickly than last time – a numb haven where he could work until he collapsed, ignoring the chaos beyond.

“We need a test run,” Announced Ambrose, walking into the break room where Merrick was lamenting the lack of kettle.

“A test run?”

“Yeah, like your guy, just to make sure everything works. We’ll give it a better name though.” Though Merrick was the one who had garnered a reputation for being cold simply by virtue of his general demeanor, Ambrose could be downright cruel. Not that Merrick had discussed Two Alpha at any length; he wasn’t a masochist.

“And do you have a genetic sample ready?” He asked in lieu of dignifying his jab with a response.

“No, ‘cause I’m not familiar with collecting that kind of thing, but I was thinking we should clone me.”

Merrick simply looked at him, disbelief readable enough without any expression. When Ambrose failed to elaborate, he collected his mind enough to ask, “You?”

“Yeah. Me.” The poor man. His brain must have been damaged from inhaling fumes from the construction. Or perhaps there was unhealthy amounts of radon this far underground. That would need to be checked. “All great pioneers of science end up trying their stuff on themselves, it’s practically a rite of passage. Besides, I can’t sue myself if it all goes wrong, now can I?”

“The legal team still needs to finalise the consent forms…”

“We don’t need it if I own the company!”

“You don–”

“Sorry, if we own the company. Point still stands. Bet this is why all those scientists do it.”

Should Merrick really stand in the way of such a misled endeavour? It was one thing to clone a dead partner, it was another to clone a man who was still alive and in regular contact with the project. Still, it would be interesting, for data collection purposes. Far too much of their current plan was based on hypotheticals. On one hand hubris, on the other… 

“I’ve heard the physicists get on just fine without it,” he said.

Ambrose waved a hand dismissively. “Physicists.”

Merrick made a conscious effort not to put a hand to his eyes, turning instead to what passed as a kitchenette. “And what do you intend to do with your agnate?” 

How did people make tea without a kettle? Would he have to microwave a mug full of water? Was that even legal?

“Dunno, figure it’ll be an insurance policy like the rest. Maybe teach it how to do my paperwork.”

“I’m sure that will pay back the millions it will take to do it.”

“Investment, Merrick, I know you’ve heard of it.”

“And I’ve yet to see the benefit.”

“You’re taking jabs at me ‘cause nothing’s happened while I’m telling you to make something happen!”

He sighed, “If you really think it’ll be of benefit to us, be my guest. Just don’t make the decision lightly. If I find out that you thought of this five minutes ago–”

“You wound me, Dr Merrick, when have I been anything but thoughtful with this venture? This is a great idea – what do we have to lose? It’s the same thing we’ll be doing in a few months anyway, just contained so we can troubleshoot any issues. A prototype!”

This was not a battle that Ambrose was about to lose. Merrick hardly knew which side he was even on. Why not humour the man? 

“Give it a week so I can train the skeleton crew on the initialisation and get everything calibrated,” he said, giving up on tea and instead filling his mug with cold water, “Make sure you’ve thought it through. If you want to go ahead, I’ll get your sample on Thursday.”

“Great!” exclaimed Ambrose, already halfway out of the room, “You won’t regret this, Dr Merrick!”

“You keep on saying that,” Merrick mumbled to the empty doorway. Mug water wasn’t as nice as glass water, he decided, but that hardly mattered.

...

In the end Ambrose went through with it. He dubbed the endeavour ‘Project: Pelasgus’ in the files, though Merrick could think of several more accurate titles, ‘Narcissus’ for one. Was he in a position to pass such judgements? Perhaps not, but there was no one else around to do it and Ambrose was in severe need of someone to temper him.

A great chamber had been hollowed out near the base of one of the old silos, fitted with a surprisingly expensive drainage system and the equipment needed to keep up to twenty-five growth-support systems, only one of which had actually been installed. Merrick viewed the room with much the same strange discomfort as he did the version in his basement, which was probably rusting with neglect. It was the discomfort of an ugly yet unregretted truth and he didn’t like how much of his life now had that tint to it. Sometimes, among the haze of work and his general distaste for Ambrose, he wondered if he too considered the whole affair to be ugly. Then he would decide that Ambrose had no such depth to him and, if anything, thought it cool.

When, eventually, Pelasgus was up and walking, Ambrose holed him away in the large office that was by now his own small apartment. Apparently there had been a scene regarding the staff seeing the agnate’s naked body – more out of concern for himself than the agnate – but Merrick could not bring himself to watch the security footage back to scan for any other red flags. This was Ambrose’s agnate, Merrick had had his chance already.

Which wasn’t to say that he hadn’t been tempted to stick his foot in.

“Check this out.” A memory stick collided with his forehead as Ambrose entered, no knocking as always.

Merrick remained motionless at his desk. “What is it?”

“You need to watch it. I showed Pelasgus a mirror this morning.” He didn’t know how he could say that name so seriously; it was ridiculous. Ambrose picked the memory stick up from where it had fallen, removed the one already in Merrick’s computer, and plugged it in before any preventative measures could be taken.

“I was using that!”

“Hope you save regularly,” replied Ambrose, unrepentant, “This is more important, anyway.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Just watch the damn video.”

The video began with a scene featuring Pelasgus having a simplistic conversation with two technicians that had probably been dragged in from the corridor, camera jerking about until the agnate was centred in the frame and Ambrose moved into view.

“Hey, Pelasgus, can you tell me these guys’ names?”

His response was a dubious look, as if the agnate knew it was a stupid question. Ambrose had probably introduced him to them ten minutes previously. 

“Clyde and Bill.”

“Which is which?” asked Ambrose, to the tune of an even more unimpressed glare.

“Clyde,” poking one, “Bill,” poking the other. Both technicians, wearing matching dusty coveralls and stony expressions, seemed to share the agnate’s attitude.

“Good. You two can go about your business.”

Clyde and Bill seemed all too happy to comply. How the agante had mastered complete disdain so early, Merrick didn’t know. It was almost impressive. Apparently these thinly veiled tests were a regular occurrence and consistently skewing beneath his capabilities.

“Now,” continued Ambrose, moving to uncover a mirror he had leaned against the wall, “Who’s this?”

“You,” said the agnate to his reflection. Then he paused, mind visibly working as he watched his reflection move with him.

Ambrose apparently grew impatient and stepped beside the agnate, grinning. “You.”

A frown creased the agnate’s face as he watched their two reflections, identical if not for their expressions and clothing.

“You look like me,” explained Ambrose as if the agnate hadn’t already worked it out.

“Why?”

“‘Cause I made you to. You’re a copy of me, a clone.” 

Merrick fought the urge to bat him around the head. No subtlety. He had mentally run through the scenario of Two Alpha finding evidence of Steve a hundred times, preparing for each a gentle way of responding to any range of reactions to the inevitable revelation of Two Alpha’s origins, and Ambrose had just barreled through it, no awareness of any of the variables Merrick had mapped a route around.

“A copy?”

“Damn right.”

“Why?” hissed the agnate, half in shocked confusion, half in indignant outrage.

“God, you sound like Merrick saying that–”

“I stand by that statement,” interjected the Ambrose watching over Merrick’s shoulder.

“I had lots of reasons. You’re just the first in a line of agnates that will revolutionise our ideas about illness and the human lifespan. Not to mention that it’s breaking scientific boundaries and starting a whole new industry!”

“How?”

“How what?”

“How does me looking like you change our ideas about illness and the human lifespan?”

At this point Ambrose seemed to spot the hole he had dug himself into. The chances of Pelasgus knowing the meaning of everything he was saying was unlikely, but there was no way that he would misunderstand what being an insurance policy entailed.

“Uh, well, there’s something to being able to create an adult human without the physical development of childhood…” Ambrose rambled as he walked back to the camera.

“What’s childhood?” Merrick had to stop himself from snorting. Ambrose was out of his depth, that much was clear.

The video cut out as he began, “You know what–”

Amused, Merrick looked up and saw that Ambrose’s ears had turned faintly pink.

“So you see, Pelasgus can differentiate between two different faces and identify that we look alike. It even seems to understand the general idea of cloning.”

“Perhaps you should provide some support with that,” Merrick said, as if there was any chance of it being a bad idea, “I can’t imagine that’s an easy pill to swallow.”

Ambrose waved a hand dismissively as he plucked out the memory stick. “It’ll be fine. Introduce the idea early and it’ll be normal. The rest’ll have to come to terms with it.”

“Will they? I was under the impression that we weren’t disclosing that to them.”

“What? You’re saying we should just lie?”

Sighing, Merrick pulled up the document he had been working on. Pelasgus was going to be a psychologist’s nightmare by the time Ambrose was through with him. He almost wanted to move him into his own office, but that was probably just the grief-echoes talking. Ambrose would turn it into a situation anyway, and Merrick was here as a scientist, not a caretaker.

“If your Project doesn’t see any issues arise because of this, we can consider telling the first generation. If.”

Grinning in the disconcerting way that he did, Ambrose strode backwards to the door. “You’re a pessimistic man, Dr Merrick,” he jeered before spinning into the corridor, exclaiming, “Self-recognition! Incredible!”

...

Conversation with Pelasgus would have been easy to avoid if Ambrose didn’t insist on keeping him in his office rather than in the purpose-built accommodation that would benefit from the prototype’s test run. At any given moment, Merrick was at most only half convinced that Project: Pelasgus was actually intended to be a true prototype and not a vanity project. Either way, Ambrose left them in the same room together far too often for Merrick’s liking.

The agnate had gradually accumulated a sort of static around his person that crackled every time Ambrose waltzed in. Existing in the same room as the two of them made Merrick exhausted and often left him with a pounding headache. Ambrose, of course, was too wrapped up in his fantasies of power and wealth to notice.

When he wasn’t there, suspicion was still thick in the air, which Merrick supposed was not helped by the small library of sci-fi and murder mystery films that was strewn about the TV. Although he had decided not to involve himself, he couldn’t bring himself to truly ignore the agnate. Initiating conversation felt a step too far, but throwing what he felt to be a comforting look in the agnate’s direction, or offering him coffee from Ambrose’s machine was fair game. If no-one did it, something would snap, so why not the only person in the godforsaken facility who didn’t look at him like either a freak of nature or a point of fascination.

Occasionally the agnate would say something and they’d talk until Ambrose returned and transformed the air into electricity. He’d often choose far heavier topics than Two Alpha had. Or at least topics that were heavy in context.

“Do people not like me because they don’t like Oscar or is it because I’m a copy of him and they don’t like that?”

“No consideration that they dislike you for your own merits?” Merrick asked, dryly. It was probably less than sympathetic but the agnate seemed to be on his wavelength about such things. The equally dry look he got in response affirmed this.

“How likely do you think that is? I don’t want to talk to them, but that’s because they already don’t like me. So do you think it’s because I’m a clone or because I’m Oscar’s clone?”

“Honestly? Given the people who work here and Oscar Ambrose’s general demeanor, it’s probably a bit of both.”

The agnate swore.

“Quite.”

...

At some point or another there was an incident in which Ambrose was mistaken for his agnate – or was it vice versa? – which had sent Ambrose into a somewhat vindictive frenzy, culminating in him commissioning an entirely new security system featuring RFID keys and a tech-filled bracelet that was quickly locked around the agnate’s wrist to prevent any further misidentifications. It would be amusing if not for the ire that was now constantly palpable between the two of them and the new glint in the agnate’s eyes. 

Apparently there had been an argument and Ambrose had started shouting.

“Do you even know what being an insurance policy means?!” a security officer had quoted when he offered to show Merrick the footage, finding it to be far more hilarious than it was. “It means you’re here for parts! I own you! The moment I get sick or injured, you’re done and I live on! Don’t start thinking you can go around being me. Don’t think you’re on my level. You hear?”

Subsequently, Merrick tried to keep himself away from the administration and management block, instead investigating a way to keep the commercial generations from ever even considering the possibility of their grim prospects. Evidently, the truth had a negative impact. Who knew?

...

Merrick was taking one of his unfortunately necessary brief visits to his own office when it happened. All he had in warning was a percussive commotion sounding from down the corridor, then Pelasgus was in his room, knocking the door as he passed it and appearing noticeably ruffled.

He stood up. “What–”

“Please,” gasped the agnate, “I don’t– I–”

The uncharacteristic desperation was written over his entire body, shaking and wide-eyed. Footsteps thundered on concrete and the agnate began to stumble forwards.

Merrick was halfway around his desk when the dark uniforms of the security team filled the doorway.

“Dr Merrick! Move away from the agnate, he’s dangerous!”

He froze as he spotted the firearms in their hands, the blood flecked on the agnate’s trousers. Slowly stepping backwards, he asked in a voice that thankfully didn’t shake, “What’s going on?”

“It killed Mr Ambrose, sir, we caught it on the cameras.”

The agnate step forwards again. “I–”

The reaction was instant. One, two, three shots. Merrick jerked back as the agnate toppled over. A member of security rushed over to usher him away from the rapidly pooling blood.

“Sir, are you okay?”

He nodded, still trying to process. It was hard to ignore the shape on the floor even as he was guided out of the room. Everything had happened in the space of a minute and now… 

“We’ll get someone in to clean up. You should find somewhere else to be.”

“How did this happen?” he asked.

“The agnate attacked him. Unarmed. Slammed his head against the desk, I think. Blood everywhere. We’re gonna cordon off the area until this is sorted.”

“Christ.” He needed a drink, though he didn’t own any alcohol. One of the maintenance workers would have something under the board, surely?

...

Death was one thing, seeing a man get shot was another. Nightmares plagued him. Faces in double, growing resentment, blood. The sensation of falling, over and over again. Two Alpha flatlining as he entered the room, moments too late. Pelasgus trying to retake control, fighting the man keeping him trapped. Ambrose dismissing and dismissing and dismissing.

Merrick found himself unable to sleep, spending his increasing waking hours reorganising the accommodation sector. Isolation was evidently asking for trouble, so the agnates would need regular contact. He couldn’t exactly hire people for them to talk to, so they would need to talk to each other in order to build proper social networks. But then how would staff be able to take them out of the active population for donation without arousing suspicion? How could he keep them from trying to find a way out? How, how, how?

In the end he hired a writing team to fabricate a world-ending event that had turned everything outside the compound into a dangerous hellscape unfit for living things. A Contamination. One that hadn’t reached a single small haven in the middle of the ocean, where a chosen few would be sent to repopulate humanity in the outside world. He didn’t want competition inciting violence within the group, so the method of selection would be presented as truly random, a lottery.

This all necessitated bringing in a further team to imprint artificial memories: the life before the Contamination, which they could hope for on the Island and make the staff’s memories of real life seem unextraordinary; and the devastation that the Contamination caused.

It was all quite elegant, in the end. Everything was explained neatly. The agnates would keep themselves contained, not needing to trust the word of the staff since they had memories of exactly what they were being told about. Perhaps this was the sort of lie that Ambrose had wanted to avoid, but Ambrose was dead by his own stupidity, so Merrick could continue as he wanted to.

He ordered the construction of new exercise facilities, various forms of entertainment, and a rudimentary educational curriculum all to keep them occupied so that they wouldn’t be bored into unpredictable behaviour. A techie had suggested that they get the clones to do some of the manual labour involved in maintaining the growth-support systems and hydroponic farms, which filled in the impression of ‘work’ given by the false memories and Merrick’s staff having obvious jobs.

Yes, all very elegant.

Now all that remained to be done was the agnates themselves.

...

The first generation was called Alpha.

Merrick watched as the first batch of samples got loaded into the system. Most of them were high-ranking officers in the Defense Department. A few were from notoriously flagrant billionaires. One was the only remaining genetic material from Steve.

He wouldn’t interact with Gandu Three Alpha out of course, he had learnt that lesson. Three Alpha would just be another face in the crowd, making friends, finding himself, living. But Merrick would be able to see his face, hear his voice. Steve and Two Alpha would live on through him. He would never be able to talk to them again, but he wouldn’t forget their face. It would be a silent phone call, staring at a photo across the room.

That was all he needed.

[valeriianz]

Based on @masao-micchi‘s GLORIOUS witch AU. I really want to write more of this verse, so please let me know! I’ve uploaded this to Ao3 as well for any future installments :)

_____________________________________

Many witches and warlocks grow into their power naturally, usually through their family, genetically. It was very common to learn by yourself, witches weren’t independent, but it was expected to take matters into your own hands; inherit the powers passed down to you. Some families were famous for their impressive genealogy, though some infamous by marrying their brothers, sisters, cousins… keeping the bloodline pure.

Some went to the Academy of Magick to hone their powers and rise to power more quickly… if you had money and happened to live close enough to attend the only magical school in the world.

Aziraphale wouldn’t know what that was like… he was very unique in the village he grew up. Always running about by himself, carrying his books and papers like an eager delivery man instead of keeping a bag to hold his belongings like a sane person. And he kept to himself… always in his cottage, passed down to him from his family, or so the villagers suspected. Though he wasn’t a recluse. Indeed, Aziraphale was always up for a conversation when approached and kept an air of positivity and pure joy that was almost tangible wherever he went.

Which was curious because… Aziraphale was always alone. He didn’t have parents, or any noticeable family. His neighbors, if asked, would tell you that they honestly couldn’t remember when Aziraphale had come to their small town, only that one day, decades ago, he had arrived.

They watched him now, leaving out his front door and, with a wave of his hand, locked the door behind him.

Or, attempted to. As Aziraphale walked down the steps, behind him the doorknob fell off and rolled around the porch, unbeknownst to the spry warlock who was now creating distance between himself and the very much, broken door.

His neighbor sighed, taking out his wand and casually lifting the bronze handle and reattaching it to the old wooden door… again.

Aziraphale made his way to the woods, the only tools with him being his wand, a worn notebook, and his potions, held safely in the brown leather belt securing around his tunic, which was an off-white cotton, impossibly soft, from years of use. He hummed to himself, looking around him, taking everything in as he explored deeper into the trees.

His hands came out, gently touching leaves and underbrush as he went, stooping down occasionally to inspect some berries or a curious rock, and as he got closer to water, moss.

Aziraphale began filling the empty pouches in his belt with the moss, settling down at the edge of the stream and taking out his notebook to scribble in while the sounds of bubbling water settled around him, relaxing him.

“Oh, lavender, how lovely!”

Aziraphale got up, dusting off his backside and wandered over to a small patch of wild lavender, sinking carefully to his knees and plucking some up, sniffing, and carefully depositing them into another pocket.

A small hiss made his ear twitch.

“Hm?” Aziraphale looked around, his wide brimmed hat flopping with the effort.

Aziraphale heard the hiss again and looked down, brows furling in determination as he slowly parted the long grass and purple flowers, searching, following the sound of the hissing. His hands stuttered, faltering when he came across the snake, before parting the grass with more confidence.

“Oh, dear. You’re hurt.” Aziraphale spoke softly, reaching a tentative hand out and gently gliding his finger down the black scales. The snake lifted it head curiously, as if taking in Aziraphale, who stopped before his fingers grazed the open wound that stretched almost down to it’s tail.

Aziraphale bit his lip and nodded, scooping up the large snake without warning, not that the serpent could do much to fight him off except coil lazily around Aziraphale’s arm in a warning without any pressure.

“Now don’t fuss,” Aziraphale chided softly, keeping the wound up and away from his palm. “I can patch you up in a jiffy, just need to get you home first. I know I have a remedy, somewhere…”

If snakes could glare, this one did it’s best impression, doing it’s best to keep his head high and watch Aziraphale as he made his way back home.

___________________

“Now I know it’s here, somewhere…”

The snake seemed to watch in trepidation or curiosity, maybe both, as the young warlock riffled through his belongings. Glass bottles clinked loudly and loose leaf pages fluttered angrily to the floor.

The snake observed from the desk he had been placed on, curled up in a ball of shiny black and red, and not just from the wound, Aziraphale had noted. The gorgeous serpent also had a red belly, like a thick stripe from tail to head, all 40ish inches of him, Aziraphale guessed.

Who returned to the snake triumphantly, holding a couple small bottles of different liquids, and a handful of herbs.

The snake recoiled as Aziraphale dumped his loot haphazardly on the flat surface next to it.

“So sorry, dear boy. Didn’t mean to startle you. At least… I think you’re a boy, yes?”

The snake pulled it’s thick tail underneath him, as if in defiance. Azirphale chuckled softly.

“It’s like you can understand me! Okay so, please stay still my dear…”

The snake obliged warily, keeping his ever watchful eyes on Aziraphale the entire time as he worked on the wound.

Aziraphale finished up by wrapping the herbs tight against the open wound with a clean cloth, securing it with a dissolvable tape.

“The bandage is merely a precaution, I know you’ll be able to shimmy out of it, but I’d like to keep the chamomile in place to take away any discomfort you might feel. Oh, how do you feel, pretty snake?”

The snake looked away, around the room, taking in the mess of books, bottles, jars, ink and so on, and back to Aziraphale. He slithered toward his elbow, perched on the desk and curled around it, flicking his tongue out.

Aziraphale’s eyes drooped in content, watching the snake with fondness creeping into his chest.

“I must admit I’ve never cared for a snake before, or any living creature, really…” He trailed off, looking out the window. “But I’m already growing very attached to you. Would you like to stay here with me? You don’t have to, of course.” Aziraphale babbled on, laughing at himself.

“I have a garden, maybe you’d like it? You could keep away the rodents for me!”

The snake made a face, if possible, that may have mirrored disgust at the thought of eating mice, but Aziraphale figured he was just imagining it.

___________________________

Later that evening, Aziraphale was seated in his favorite chair, reading, when he felt the tell-tale sensation of being watched. He looked up and noticed the large snake curled on the rug in front of the fire mantel, his head poking out of the bundle he had coiled himself into, and watching Aziraphale with eyes that flickered golden, not unlike the fire crackling behind him.

Azirphale smiled lightly to himself, feeling a tad unnervered but also comfortable, protected somehow. Like the snake was watching over him. He looked back down to his book, content in the silence.

After a long moment, Aziraphale nearly halfway through his book, he looked up again, and the snake was still watching. He took note of his page and set the book aside, drawing his legs up and tucking his bare feet underneath him.

“I’m a warlock, if you couldn’t tell already.” He started softly. A part of him felt a little silly, talking to a snake, but something told him his new house guest was anything but an ordinary serpent. Said serpent's head lifted slightly, as if listening. Aziraphale hesitated, looking down at his clasped hands, fiddling with his pinky ring, before continuing.

“You seem very clever, have I gotten your attention?” He looked up again. The snake bowed it's head, body twisting slowly to unravel himself a bit, relaxing.

Night had fallen outside, the only light in the room was the flickering fire and the small table lamp next to Aziraphale. He always liked the dark, it was quiet and everywhere and always present, even during the day. Aziraphale was fascinated and elated that the snake had stuck around all day into the late night. The warlock had left him alone after healing him, allowing the snake to explore around the cottage, keeping a eye out as the snake meandered through his texts and dusty bookshelves, only managing to knock a few things over.

He never did go outside, the snake. Aziraphale caught him, more than once, looking at the books, really looking at them, as if reading the words, studying the runes and symbols scribbled onto the parchment. Aziraphale briefly wondered if he brought an evil spirit into his home, but upon further inspection, concentrating on the snake's aura, Aziraphale found the snake... complicated to read. But at least he wasn't evil.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Aziraphale asked the snake, not expecting an answer, but it was nice to talk to someone.

The snake tucked it's head underneath it's tail, and didn't reemerge. Aziraphale laughed softly.

"Very well, I'll let you be." He finished, picking up his book again and starting from where he left off.

After a few minutes, the snake's head popped back up, looking at the warlock again, and felt himself drifting to sleep.

[bittersweetmelxdy]

Day 14- Winter Date- Lucien

And time would heal all hearts,/ And everyone would have a friend,/And right would always win,/ And love would never end, no,/ This is my grown up Christmas list- Grown-Up Christmas List, Pentatonix ft. Kelly Clarkson

Words: 1,051

You woke up to the sound of your phone ringing, and you blearily opened your eyes, swiping to answer the call, not even checking the caller ID before answering.

“Hello, who is it?” you said sleepily, yawning at the end of your question.

“Good morning sleepy-head, did you forget what we planned?” Lucien said softly into the phone, his warm voice causing you to blink slowly as you began to drift, trying to think about your plans. But in your sleepy state, you were having enough trouble making a coherant thought.

“The pavilion, by the lake?” Lucien offered hoping to kickstart your memory.  

You looked up confused, then squinted at the wall clock on the opposite wall, waiting for your eyes to adjust to the darkness. Then you jolted as you realised what Lucien was reminded you of.

“The sunrise!” you gasped.

Lucien chuckled “Yes, if you don’t think you can make it, we could always reschedule.” he offered.

“No, no, no.” you stumbled off the bed, tripping as your foot got tangled in the blankets, “I’ll be dressed in five minutes.” you yelped as you tumbled to the floor.

“Hey, are you okay?” Lucien’s voice became tinged with concern.

Your head shot up and you moved your hair from your face, “Don’t worry, it’s okay. I’m fine. I’m fine.”

“Alright I’ll be at the door in five minutes.” Lucien finished, and you nodded even though he wouldn’t be able to see it, and then hung up, scrabbling to your feet and flicking the switch, illuminating your bedroom.

You then brought up the weather forecast upon your phone, seeing the clear skies but you were more interested in the temperature, specifically the “feels like” temperature section. Throwing on a white jumper and a high-waisted orange courderoy skirt, throwing on a pair of black tights and your brown boots. You reached the front door, and checked once more, and at seeing a glorious “feels like 2°C” you immediately threw on a hat, scarf and your swede fur lined coat. Now successfully bundled up for the weather, you opened the front door and stepped out, spinning around to close and lock the door securely behind you.

“So, you ready to go?” Lucien’s sudden voice appearing beside you caused you to jump in shock.

“Lucien!” you exclaimed, you hand clutching at your chest in shock, feeling your heartbeat race even under the multiple layers of clothing.

Lucien smiled gently at you, pushing off the wall, and wrapping his arm around your waist gently, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, before leading you over to the lift. You rested your head against his shoulder as you both waited for the lift to slowly descend to the ground floor of your apartment building.  Before you both could step out into the wintry surroundings, Lucien looked down at you as you pulled your coat tighter around you and buried your nose into your scarf before you and Lucien both took a deep breath and walked out of the front door. The cold morning wind blew past you, and you huddled closer to Lucien, him only laughing and bringing your more tightly into his frame. He then began to lead you over to your destination, you marveled at the stillness of the morning, the rest of Loveland City was still sleeping, and only sounds being the sound of your footsteps crunching on the pavement, the rustling of your layers as you walked and your synchronised breathing. Reaching the park entrance, you gasped at the sight stretching out before you, the whole park was covered in a layer of frost, the moonlight causing the frost to glitter like silver crystals, and making you feel like the little prince atop the asteroid B-612, in your favourite book. Lucien seemingly knowing your thoughts, only squeezed your waist and then gestured for the two of you to walk forward. Once you reached the edge of the lake you broke away from Lucien and walked forward, lightly resting your gloves against the railing that protecting parkgoers from the water. Lucien not taking offence from this walked behind you as rested his hands atop yours on the railing, affectively caging in you between his arms and allowing the two of you to continue to share each other’s body heat. You looked down at his hands atop yours thinking how kind he was to you, when you felt Lucien’s hand reach under your chin and lift it up to the edge of the lake, at the point where the sky met the water’s edge.  

“Keep your head up or you’ll miss it.” he whispered, the close-proximity causing your face to flush in a rosy hue, hoping that you can blame it on the cold you fixed your eyes on the lake edge.  

For a couple minutes it felt like nothing was happening when the sky gradually became darker and you held your breath in anticipation. Then it happened, the sun slowly broke over the horizon, the first few rays hitting the lake and making the lake look like liquid fire. If you thought the frost was pretty before, it was nothing compared to now, the sunlight hit the frost lighting up the ice crystals in a variety of colours, from red to orange, yellow to pink, you gasped and looked around you, hands resting in inch from your lips, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“Is this what you saw last time?” you whispered, barely audible as to not disturb the atmosphere.

“I’m sorry?” Lucien spun you around slowly, so he could look into eyes.

“When you went by yourself, and I texted you asking why you didn’t wake me up. Is this what you saw?” you voice was choked with emotion.

“You like it?” he asked.

“Lucien, I-” you closed your eye for a second, and Lucien realising you needing a second to compose yourself, just cupped your face with his hands, to centre you.  

You took a deep breath and continued, “Lucien, I can’t thank you enough for this, thank you for bringing me with you.”

“If this is how you’re going to be every time, I’ll take you everywhere.” Lucien laughed softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead as you both stood bathed in the golden sunlight.

Tag list: @bubblyblossomx​, @your-sylphofhope​, @tanzaniiite​, @xumos-hoe​, @quzbea​, @minvirsa​, @kaemoonx​, @deathkat657​, @ariellexlucien​

[precuredaily]

Precure Daily Halloween Special 2019

Episodes: SPC 37, HaCha 37, GPP Movie, MPC 38-39, KKPC 37, HUG 38, STPC 37 Dates watched: 30-31 October 2019 Original air dates: Sunday in October 1-2 weeks before Halloween, 2011 & 2016-2018, and the Saturday of Halloween, 2015

Is that little girl in the witch hat dressed as Akko from Little Witch Academia in a nod to her seiyuu, Han Megumi, playing Hime or is this just a coincidence? These are the questions that keep me up at night.

You may remember the PCD Christmas Special I did last year, where I watched every Precure Christmas episode and compared them to each other, charting the common elements and evolution in how they handle the subject. Well, I really love Halloween, but for a while, Japan didn’t celebrate it. It only started to catch on in the late 2000s and into the 2010s, and so despite several episodes of Precure airing on or near Halloween night over the years, the first time it was brought up in the franchise wasn’t until 2011′s Suite Precure. You can read more about how it became acceptable to celebrate and the ways in which the Japanese people enjoy themselves in this article, but the important takeaways are that Halloween events are more about food and festivities, and trick-or-treating is a highly organized activity, no going door-to-door.

At this point in the shows, all extra heroines have been introduced and the team is usually on the cusp of acquiring a new powerup. The villains have suffered significant losses and are preparing to pull out some form of trump card (this will facilitate the team getting their new attack). Typically, the monster of the week will be made from a Jack O’Lantern or some other Halloween decoration. In more recent years there’s been a tendency to explain what Halloween is about, but they don’t always do this. The biggest draw of a Halloween episode, though, in my opinion, is getting to see the characters in costumes. I’m going to briefly run down each Halloween episode (or movie) and then compare common elements at the end.

Note: At the time of writing, I am about 6 episodes behind in Star Twinkle Precure, did not wish to skip ahead for the purposes of this article, and didn’t have the time to catch up. I will add my thoughts on STPC 38 at a later date, and I will announce when I have done this via a reblog to @pcd-status​. Thank you for your patience and understanding.

Star Twinkle section added 12 Nov. 2019

Suite Precure 37 - “Wakuwaku! Everyone Transforms for Halloween!” Original air date: 30 October 2011

With Mephisto freed of his brainwashing, Falsetto takes charge of Trio the Minor and leads an attack on the girls. Ako has decided to stay in the human world, and the older girls take her to a Halloween celebration to brighten her spirits. Ako isn’t really enjoying herself, but some younger kids rope her into playing with them and that brightens her up. When Trio the Minor turn a pumpkin into a Negatone, they try to perform a new attack with Crescendo Tone: Precure Suite Session Ensemble Crescendo, but it falls apart, so Ako uses her invidual attacks while the older trio uses their group finisher. At the end, Falsetto sings an incomplete Melody of Sorrow to speed up Noise’s revival.

Costumes and references: Hibiki is dressed as a pirate, but specifically she resembles a genderbent Captain Marvelous, the red ranger from the contemporary Sentai series Gokaiger. Kanade is dressed as a pumpkin witch. Ellen is dressed as a black cat, an allusion to her true form, and Ako is a dressed as a princess, which she is. (not digging very deep for this)

HappinessCharge Precure 37 - “Big Bang, Defeated! An Unbelievably Strong Enemy Appears!” Original air date: 19 October 2014

Oresky, Namakelder, and Hosshiwa are all feeling weakened after taking the Happiness Big Bang attack, so Queen Mirage concludes they may not be useful to her anymore and prepares her next agent. Meanwhile in Pikarigaoka, Megumi encourages Blue to join them at the town’s Halloween festival, and he agrees. They all begin to share pumpkin cakes with each other, a local tradition. Seiji shares his with Megumi, Megumi eagerly shares hers with Blue, and the other girls look on from a distance as they recognize the love triangle unfolding in front of them. Oresky appears, trying to ruin the Halloween festival that makes people happy and attempting to prove his worth. He really wants to be the number one general in the Phantom Empire, as he feels that if he’s not first, he’s worthless and he doesn’t want to be replaced. The girls transform, and begin to persuade him that there’s enjoyment to be had in fun things, and it’s okay if you’re not first. They hit him with Happiness Big Bang and it begins to purify him, when suddenly an attack interrupts it. As the smoke clears, their new opponent is revealed to be a corrupted Cure Tender, Iona’s missing older sister.

Costumes and references: Megumi is wearing a Halloween-themed dress, orange with jack-o-lanterns on it. Hime is dressed as a princess, which much like with Ako, seems kind of low-effort since she’s an actual princess. Yuuko is dressed as a witch, and Iona is a fortune teller. Also, Blue is dressed as a vampire.

Go! Princess Precure: Go! Go!! Gorgeous Triple Feature Original release date: 31 October 2015

The Princess movie was experimental, being made of three shorter films: a chibi short with no dialog, a 50-minute traditional feature, and a 20-minute all CG adventure. The film leaned hard on its Halloween theming, with Pumpkins and Halloween being prominent motifs in all three parts. I’ll break them down individually.

Cure Flora and the Mysterious Mirror

This is a cute sketch where Cure Flora finds a fancy crown, puts it on, and accidentally startles some mischievous sprites on the other side of what she thinks is a mirror. They have the ability to transform, so they take on her appearance and mirror her, but they forget to duplicate the crown and eventually they begin to compete with the real Flora, doing tricks. She accidentally breaks the crown, so the sprites decide to transform into a special pumpkin outfit for her, just as the other girls come in. The 5-minute short uses a super deformed art style with all CG animation and has no dialog.

Costumes and references: Cure Flora’s pumpkin dress and hat.

The Pumpkin Kingdom’s Treasure

Haruka, Minami, Kirara, and Towa are transported to the wondrous Pumpkin Kingdom, where the royal chancellor Warp is hosting a Princess Contest to find a princess for the kingdom. Towa, being well-versed in evil schemes, smells a rat and is on edge. Haruka finds the true princess of the kingdom, Pumpururu, who is locked away, and learns that the Pumpkin King and Queen are under Warp’s control. Minami, Kirara, and Towa each win their rounds in the contest, but the former two are captured while Towa is able to avoid capture. Haruka participates, even managing to snap the monarchs out of the control. She transforms, frees the others from their capture, and Warp transforms to a giant monster. Pumpururu, the sprites, and the Precures’ strong feelings summon Halloween Dress Up Keys that the girls use to defeat Warp and save the Pumpkin Kingdom.

Costumes and references: The girls get special outfits to wear for the Princess Contest (not halloween themed), as well as Mode Elegant Halloween dresses that feature pumpkin flowers on them.

Precure and Leffy’s Wonder Night!

This is an episode-length feature using the CG animation style from the dance endings. Haruka discovers a doll on her desk, when she’s suddenly transported to the Pumpkingdom, already transformed, and the doll is now a girl named Leffy. Leffy tells the cures they need to defeat Night Pumpkin, who has taken over Pumpkingdom and stolen the daylight from them, making it always night. What follows is essentially an ongoing chase through the city to the top, where they fight and defeat Night Pumpkin and restore daylight to Pumpkingdom. Haruka is then transported back to her room, and the Leffy doll is gone. It’s worth noting that Leffy appeared as Pumpururu’s doll in the previous portion. The connection to this section of the film is unclear. Also, Minami, Kirara, and Towa do not appear in their civilian forms at all.

Costumes and references: Leffy isn’t overtly pumpkin themed, and nobody else gets any special forms in this one. However, there is a glorious moment where Flora accidentally bonks Night Pumpkin on the head.

a proud Precure tradition

Maho Girls Precure 38 - “Is it Sweet or Not? The Magic Pumpkin Festival!” Original air date: 23 October 2016

This isn’t explicitly a Halloween episode, because the Magic World doesn’t celebrate Halloween, but they have fall traditions that involve pumpkins and sweets so it counts. Their tradition is to chase a Pumpkin Bird that appears every year. It shoots candy from its mouth, and if it hits someone, they turn into a giant piece of candy. If you capture it, you get a special prize. One of the villains brings up the actually valid point that the creature may not like being chased and that’s why it runs, but Mofurun talks to it and finds out it just has a cavity. The girls transform into Topaz Style to fight Shakince in a creatively silly battle. When they beat him, Mofurun gets the credit for “capturing” the Pumpkin Bird and so she gets presented with its prize, which turns out to be a seed that grows into a tree which sprouts toothbrushes. I am not making that up.

Costumes and references: Mofurun gets a special orange and yellow dress to wear when she receives the prize but it’s never shown in closeup from the front. Also, there is a cameo appearance by Watanabe Mayu, who sings the insert song for the Maho Girls Movie that was in theaters around this time, and also served as the ending theme for episodes 38 and 39 (only on the TV version, on home release they use “Magic a la Domo”). She makes a special appearance as herself. Even better, in a flashback, she’s seen beside giant statues of Mipple and Mepple.

Maho Girls Precure 39 - “This is Halloween! Everyone, Smile!” Original air date: 30 October 2016

The girls from magic school come to visit the non-magic world and learn about Halloween! But Jun, Kay, and Emily have to be reminded, even when things seem bad, to not use magic to help out. The students of the non-magic world are running a crepe stand and the magic world students decide to chip in, and after being scolded for using their powers, they learn how to do things the old-fashioned way and appreciate the value of hard work. In the middle of all of this, Ha-chan changes costumes almost every scene. Benigyo is extremely confused by all the Halloween festivities and doesn’t understand what the girls want when they tell her to stop ruining it. They never do give her a proper explanation, but she summons a Donyokubaaru that blows air and the girls have to transform to Sapphire form to fight it off. There’s a small plot point about Mirai’s grandmother recognizing the magic school Headmaster from her own youth. At the end of the episode, it’s implied that Liko’s father has made a big breakthrough about relations between the magic and non-magic worlds, and more ancient powers. Kind of a disjointed episode.

Costumes and references: Mirai is dressed as Mofurun, Liko is dressed as a cat in an orange and purple dress, Mofurun is dressed as Cure Miracle, Chikurun is dressed as a bunny, and Ha-chan is dressed as:

an alicorn

a sarcophagus

a mummy

a sphinx

a UFO

and a thunder god (Raijin)

And just a cool thing I noticed, the final stage for the ending dance was updated with a Halloween theme. I’m really curious why, since they replaced the ending with “The Right Way to Use Magic” in the initial television broadcast of this episode, and I don’t think the Halloween version was seen in any previous or subsequent episodes.

Kirakira Precure a la Mode 37 - “Salut! Ciel is Going Back to France!?” Original air date: 22 October 2017

Ciel’s old boss, Madame Solaine, finds her and tries to get her to come back to Paris and work for her there, feeling that Ciel’s talent is wasted in this small town. Not wanting to admit that she initially came searching for her brother, and that she’s got responsibilities as a Precure, she tries to demonstrate what she likes about Ichigozaoka. Everybody is worried that Ciel is going to leave, and even lowkey encouraging her to do what’s best for her career, but she wants to stay. Ultimately she wins Madame Solaine over with a dish inspired by Ichika’s cooking style. Elisio is the antagonist of this episode but I honestly found the battle to be completely irrelevant. The most notable point for the villains is that Grave makes some kind of discovery at the end of the episode.

Costumes and references: Their costumes here are modifications to their patisserie uniforms. Ichika is a jack o’lantern, Himari is an angel, Aoi is a devil, Yukari is a cat (of course), Akira is a vampire, and Ciel is a witch.

HUGtto! Precure 38 - “Charged with Happiness! Happy Halloween!” Original air date: 28 October 2018

Hagukumi town is going to be hosting a Halloween Party, with Papple’s business providing food and entertainment. Daigan is tasked with food prep, but he gets frustrated with a very delicate task, and a visit from Bishin has him questioning his loyalties. The girls are ready to hit the town, and have even prepared costumes for Harry and Hugtan. They made a lot of costumes for Hugtan, in fact, but Ruru detects that she doesn’t really like any of them, so they ask her what she wants to be, and she responds “Pwecyua!” They set to work making her a Precure costume in short order, but an Oshimaida attack secretly requested by Daigan threatens the party. The girls transform and make a show of it to keep people’s spirits high, finishing the monster off with Cheerful Attack. Papple knows that Daigan was responsible and chides him for defecting, even momentarily, and informs him that everybody loved his food. Up at Beauty Harry, the girls finish Hugtan’s costume and show her to Harry, who briefly has a flash of Cure Tomorrow.

Costumes and references: Hana is a witch, Saaya is a lolita devil, Homare is a cowgirl, Emiru and Ruru are pirates, Harry is a werewolf (because he’s.... hairy, IDK if that was the joke), and Hugtan is dressed as Cure Yell. Foreshadowing ahoy!

Star☆Twinkle Precure 37 - “Cryptids Will Win! The Halloween Costume Contest” Original air date: 21 October 2019

Mihoshi Town is having a Halloween costume contest with prizes for best group, so everybody brings their A-game. Except Yuni, she takes the chance to walk around in her true Rainbownian form. Everybody is having fun and the girls get to explain Halloween to Yuni and Lala. Unfortunately, Kappard is hanging around, reminiscing about what happened to his planet, and he doesn’t like the festivities. Everyone thinks he’s just dressed as a sexy kappa and they want pictures with him, which annoys him even more, so he steals one arguing couple’s imagination and goes on the attack. In an effort to guide him away from all the people and hide their identities, when the girls transform, they claim to be the Mihoshi Stars and do a full Sentai roll call, finally settling the debate over Milky and Cosmo’s color designations. (I was probably one of the last people to maintain that Milky was blue by this point, tbh) They lead him away from the festivities and then try to talk him down, but all he can say is he doesn’t believe different species can live in harmony, that Lala and Yuni are living a lie by celebrating Earth customs, and he doesn’t understand this holiday at all, so they defeat him and return to the festival. Elena wins prizes as part of two different groups, but Kappard is declared the overall winner. Too bad he’s MIA. This episode doesn’t do much for the plot, but it does give a little backstory to Kappard, as we see that his planet got destroyed by a non-native species monopolizing all of their natural resources. Considering what we see of Eyewan and Tenjou in the next few episodes, it’s possible we’re aiming to redeem the villains. Hard to tell with an ongoing show.

Costumes and references: Hikaru is a yeti, Lala is a tsuchinoko, Madoka is a cat, Elena is a flower (with her family) and a cat (with Madoka and Yuni), Yuni is herself, Fuwa is a sheep I guess, and Prunce is the Michelin Man (TELL ME I’M WRONG).

Analysis

Halloween episodes, unlike Christmas episodes, don’t have as much of a running theme. Halloween is more of a dressing than an opportunity to explore feelings. The placement of these episodes in the series means that things are usually starting to ramp up, but none of them features a major conflict. In a few episodes, the fight with the villains felt downright inconsequential, while it was more meaningful in others. There was a trend in more recent years to explain the origins of Halloween, as a gathering of spirits, but otherwise there aren’t as many identifiable patterns or shifts in patterns as there were in the Christmas episodes, it’s mostly been “this is Halloween, have fun.” The Go Princess movie had the opportunity to make the most of their halloween theme, but instead they just focused on pumpkins, pumpkins, and more pumpkins without really diving into what makes Halloween as a holiday special or significant. It’s an alright movie but it’s a sour note on an excellent series that knew what it was doing. HappinessCharge probably utilized Halloween the best as a setting, using some Halloween traditions to create romantic tension, and I appreciated Maho Girls’s attempt to create a Halloween-ish fall holiday for a fictional culture, and then also bringing those people in to explore our Halloween. Since it’s a newer holiday for Precure to work with, only getting regular exposure since 2014, we might see them figure out more ways to spin Halloween in the future. Honestly I hope so, and I’ll be here to write about it for you.

Happy Halloween, everybody, and look forward to more Yes 5 coming soon. Hopefully I’ll finish that by the end of the year. Hopefully. (yeah not likely)

[serpent453]

Deltarune Fic - WIP

Jevil laughed as his static-filled exclamations echoed around his spacious world of rebar and blue. The sound traveled upward, like a money scrambling up a tree, before it fluttered down again with a faint whisper. For a brief moment, he thought the ceiling of the world had spoken as if to humor him, but he knew better than that. The monkey voice was his and his alone!

“HEE HEE, HOO HOO, HEE HAH!”

Him and his voice exchanged such interesting conversations. Even with the limited vocabulary inherent to the echo, so much could be said! With nary but a twist of the tone, you open up a limitless potential for meaning! His former king would berate the disorderly nature of it all. “Speak what you mean!” he’d declare before demanding another joke. He’d never understood that the joke was on him! Jevil’s language was barred from those who could not see the game they were playing! When one mistakes truth for babble, no wonder one is inclined to lock themselves away from it all. 

Jevil turned to face the jail cell everyone else was locked behind. A staircase led down to his world, blocked only by a single barred door made of grey metal. A guard used to stand there, and out of all the other guards to stand there, he was the one that laughed the loudest at his jokes, smiled the widest at his conversations, and the most eager to amuse Jevil with his games. He lasted the longest of the bunch, and since then, no other person had bothered to come down and join him in his world. 

Not even Seam.

Seam, the traitorous cat. He couldn’t even bother with the pretense of care after a while. His presence, once a daily blessing, grew rarer by the week, until Jevil couldn’t remember a time where the cat’s button-eyed face shone through the bars of the door. He, too, remained content to be locked inside his cell, while Jevil sat free.

“FOOLS!” Jevil said, for who but himself was around to humor this thoughts? “ALL FOOLS! WHY CONTENT YOURSELF WITH YOUR FALSE GAMES, WHEN YOU CAN PLAY GAMES WITH ME, ME!” 

Suddenly, he stopped. 

Footsteps, soft yet deep in tone, echoed down the stairs. The staircase squeaked with each step, and Jevil heard the clanging of chain and metal mashing together. His eyes widened. 

“O, KNIGHT!” Jevil called, rushing to the door and clasping at the bars blocking the Knight from him. “I AM HERE! HEE HEE, HOO HOO, HEE HAH!” 

Jevil waited, bouncing up and down against the door as the Knight slowly came into view. He stomped down the last few steps with the mechanical nature of any suit of armor: slow but methodical. He peered directly upon Jevil, silent. If he was smiling, frowning, or even laughing in glee upon his find, then it was impossible to tell. The metal helmet covered all but his crimson eyes, and the metal armor covered everything else about him too. 

Everything except that glowing red SOUL inside of him. It shined like polished floors. Jevil gaze at it, his mouth agape in a smile. 

“A SOUL! HOW DID YOU ACQUIRE SUCH A FINE BLESSING, O KNIGHT?”

“That’s not your concern, Jevil.” The Knight replied. 

“IT’S BEEN SO LONG.” Jevil said, cocking his head to the side. “DID YOU HEAR ABOUT THE LIGHTNERS? THEY RESTORED BALANCE TO THE FOUNTAINS, JUST AS THE PROPHECY FORETOLD, YES!”

“Yes,” The Knight spat, his crimson eyes flaring, “just as it foretold.” 

“AN ORGANIZED CHAOS, SUCH AS IT WERE. AND HOW DID THE HOLY KNIGHT COME TO VISIT ME?”

The Knight shook his metal head, sighing. “I had to search the world just to find a way in here, and if what your friend said is true, then I hope it’s worth it.”  

“SEAM?” Jevil exclaimed, the tips of his jester hat lowering down. “How is that poor plush doing?”

“Accepting whatever fate befalls him, I suppose. At least he pointed me your way.”

Jevil’s grin widened all the more. “AND SO THE ILLUSTRIOUS KNIGHT COMES TO JOIN ME IN THE REAL WORLD! HEE HEE, HOO HOO, HEE HAH!”

The Knight’s metal fist tightened. “That world is no more real than the one out here.” 

“HOW ELSE CAN YOU DESCRIBE IT?” Jevil said, giggling, “WHAT IS OUT THERE BUT A PLAYPEN FULL OF TOYS, HOLLOW INSIDE, EXISTING ONLY TO SERVE AND THEN BE DISCARDED?” 

Jevil saw the Knight slump a bit and lower his helmet, as if hiding. 

“I take it you know exactly what I am talking about?” Jevil asked, a small laugh escaping his grey lips.

The Knight suddenly laughed back, and the sound brought delight to the jester devil. He was surprised to find it was not a very deep sound, akin more to a child’s laugh more befitting the King’s Spade Child than a faceless suit of armor. 

“You know nothing.” The Knight replied, “You barely know more than anyone else.” 

“I KNOW ALL I NEED TO KNOW, HEE HEE!” Jevil snapped back, hands gripping ever tighter on the bars of the cell. 

“Then it’s a good thing that what you know is enough for me.” 

“OH? KNOWLEDGE IS WHAT YOU SEEK?”

For some reason, this made Jevil laugh all the harder. 

“FUNNY. MOST CAN’T BEAR MY UNFETTERED KNOWLEDGE!” Jevil said, “POOR JEVIL! HE MUST CONCEAL REALITY UNDER THE FABRIC OF COMEDY, AND DULL HIS BLADED WORDS WITH THE STONE OF IRONY!”

Jevil continued lamenting, his head flipped back dramatically and his voice cracking with sorrow. The Knight gazed blankly at the jester, as if he couldn’t tell if Jevil was being completely serious or not. 

After waiting for Jevil to stop on his own, the Knight promptly snapped. “Jevil!” 

The jester devil giggled, looking back up at the Knight while laying on the floor, frozen in a dramatic lament of a pose. 

“I am not here to play games.” The Knight growled. “I’m here because you know something I don’t.”

“ABOUT HIM?”

The Knight flinched. “... How did you know?”

“HEE HEE, HOO HOO, HEE HAH! I KNOW MANY THINGS, O KNIGHT!” Jevil said, standing up and rushing back to the door with the widest grin imaginable. “I KNOW THE TRUE NATURE OF THINGS, HEE HEE, AND I KNOW THAT THERE’S ONLY OUT THERE…”

Jevil pointed his finger at the staircase behind the Knight, and then twisted it back towards himself.

“AND IN HERE.”

“You’re wrong…” The Knight muttered, fists tightening. “There’s more. I feel it. I know it.” 

“YOU STILL BELIEVE IN THE LIGHT WORLD?” Jevil asked, snickering, “PLEASE. EVEN IF IT WAS REAL, IT MAKES NO DIFFERENCE.”

“IN FACT,” Jevil exclaimed, sticking his tongue out like a snake, “WHY PRETEND YOUR CHOICES ARE REAL ANYWHERE AT ALL? IN THE WORLD OF PROPHECIES, WHAT MAKES YOU THINK YOU HAVE CHOICE?”

Suddenly, the Knight launched forward, metal claws outstretched to grab at Jevil’s neck. Jevil hopped away, leaving a snarling Knight to swipe at thin air as his metal body slammed against the cell.

“I do not want to hear another word of prophecy, do you hear me?! It means nothing now! I am BEYOND it now!”

Jevil kept quiet as the Knight’s SOUL, black like tar, seeped out of his body. 

“Lightners, Darkners, fountains, the Queen, the Prophecy! I’m beyond it all and I’m beyond you too!” He roared, jabbing his finger at Jevil. “I don’t have to stay in this world and play games anymore. I don’t have to stay and follow orders like a pet! I’m not held down by tomes of fate anymore! I, and I alone, can reach that real world!”

“WHAT IN THE WORLD ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?” 

What other real world could there be? Certainly not the Light World, after all. The real world was all around Jevil, and if even the Knight, so mighty as he, could not see that, then he was as deluded as the rest of them. 

“I have a true purpose now, jester, and it’s mine and mine alone!” The Knight exclaimed, his voice high with glee. 

Jester gaped at the raging Knight, eyes fixed on the blackened SOUL oozing back into the Knight’s metal form. The sight of fury made Jevil shiver, but not of fear.

“... HEE HEE, HOO HOO, HEE HAH!”

“What’s so funny?” 

“O KNIGHT, YOU’RE THE MOST AND LEAST FOOLISH OF ALL!” Jevil said, laughing before he skipped towards the cell door and gazed up at the looming Knight.

“SO, YOU SEEK KNOWLEDGE FROM THE FOOL OF HIM. WHAT DO YOU WISH TO KNOW?”

The Knight stood silent, glaring down at Jevil. 

“You know about HIM. You know where HE came from.”

The Knight’s hands tightened around the bars, threatening to snap them off. “I need to know too, and you’re going to tell me.” 

------------------------

“SO I TOLD HIM.”

“What?” Susie exclaimed. “Why?”

Jevil stuck his tongue out at her. “CHAOS! THAT KNIGHT WOULD MAKE THE WORLD HIS OWN, NO MATTER WHO WANTED TO STOP HIM! SUCH A BEAUTIFUL, GLORIOUS CHAOS!”

“So where did he go? Where did you lead him to?” Noelle asked.

“HEE HEE! I DIDN’T LEAD HIM ANYWHERE!”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“YOU CAN’T SIT ON A CHAIR THAT NEVER STAYS PUT, HEE HEE! HE DISCOVERED IT ALL ON HIS OWN!”

“Well, that’s just great!” Susie shouted, practically breaking the floor with how hard she smashed the axe into it. “So now how are we gonna find out what’s going on?”

“Talk to Seam.” Jevil said, his voice momentarily fading, as if recollecting a bitter memory.

“... What?”

“If you want the truth…” Jevil said, his grin reforming once more, “TALK TO SEAM. HE’LL TELL YOU WHAT TO DO.”

[dwsecretsanta]

For @paigenotblank, by @a-rose-by-any-other-doctor  

- I hope you like it :)

The Doctor dodged down an alleyway and used the back door of a clothing shop to slip away from the guards chasing after him. 

They weren’t there to arrest him, per se, but they were there to ‘escort’ him back up to the citadel where he would have to sit through another one of the most boring parties of all time. Even Rassilon himself would surely have found them dull. 

“Oh!” A young girl who’d just stepped into the back gasped, “My Lord Doctor. You honor us with your presence.” She gave a very fast and very deep bow, a dark flush spreading across her cheek bones.

“Please, there’s no need. I’m just hiding out for a moment.” He said softly, trying to get her to relax. The poor girl looked ready to faint.

“Hiding-out?” She repeated, puzzled. 

“I’d much rather be celebrating this lovely festival here than up at the citadel. Lady President Romana disagrees with my decision.” He explained rather quickly. “I wonder if I could purchase some clothes, I rather stand out in all this green on a day like today.” He said, gesturing to his velvet coat and letting his most charming smile loose in the girl. This body was very attractive by most conventional standards and it seemed to have the desired effect.

“Of course, my Lord Doctor. Right this way, my Lord Doctor.” She lead him out of the store room and into the shop proper.

He quickly scans over the racks, searching for something simple. A nice tunic the color of rose wood in a silky sateen caught his eye. Simple and the right color for the day. “This will suit me nicely.” He said cheerfully, pulling it off the rack.

The girl’s eyes went wide again, giving her the appearance of a startled deer. “My lord Doctor, we have much finer clothes over-”

“Nonsense.” He cut her off cheerfully, “This is plenty fine for me. And please, just call me 'Doctor’. That’s more than enough title for me." 

"As you wish my- Doctor.” She said, catching herself at the last moment. 

“Thank you.” He went back to his browsing, grabbing an overcoat to go with the tunic. “I think these will do nicely.” He headed over to the counter and she scrambled to follow him. “I’ve just realized; I never asked your name, terribly rude of me.”

She blushed, her face nearly the color of his new coat. “I’m called Fallia." 

"Wonderful name.” He quickly paid and stepped into the back room, changing into his new clothes. “Only the important things.” He reminded himself as he transferred the few things he couldn’t exist without, mainly his sonic and the psychic paper into the same-on-the-inside-as-outside pockets. Honestly, Gallifrey had mastered dimensional technology millennium ago, why couldn’t they implement it in all clothing?

He bid his farewells to Fallia and left her instructions on where to send his clothes before heading out onto the street. All he was missing was a hat really, but it seemed they were out of fashion at the moment so it was all the better that he hadn’t worn one. 

The market section of the faire where artisans from the outer parts of Gallifrey came to sell their crafts was teeming with people and he grabbed a rather lovely scarf that clashed with his over coat, being closer to purple than the burnt orange of his coat but it covered his hair nicely and he could use it as a cravat once he managed to get off Gallifrey. 

Another woman at the booth with blonde hair was eyeing the scarves. There was something about her that kept drawing his eye to her. It wasn’t a feeling he’d ever experienced on Gallifrey before, but it was one that he often experienced upon finding those who made excellent companions. 

She looked up, her eyes locking onto his and he felt his stomach swoop. 

Her eyes were the color of time. 

He had no other name for the particular hue. Some might harken it to amber liquor but those eyes burned far beyond the potential of any alcohol. He felt his mouth open and he drew a small breath. His hearts were pounding and he felt trapped by her gaze. 

She smiled at him, a gorgeous thing with the tip of her tongue caught between her teeth. His hearts did a backflip and he felt himself smile back. Who was she? She couldn’t be a Timelady, they were all up in the citadel, celebrating with the high council and Romana. 

She looked away, going back to whatever the stall she was at had to offer. He sagged for just a moment, finally about to breath again. But he quickly drew himself back up and crossed the distance between them, waiting at the next stall over. He wanted to watch her a bit, keep an eye on her. 

*

There was so much to see, more than she could ever see in a single day. And now she remembered why the name Rassilon had sounded so familiar. All three of her Doctors had mentioned this festival, while her husband had explained in great detail the historical significance and traditions while she’d only vaguely listened to him. 

Rassilon created Timelords. She knew that. So the whole thing was to celebrate him and how he was basically the father of their entire species. She couldn’t remember exactly why it was done up as a fun faire though. All they were missing were rides. 

She wandered through the market section, slowly making her way towards what looked like a food area and a massive park where she could faintly hear music. 

Timelords seemed to have a fetish for the color red. Every person she came across was dressed in some shade of the color with brown, black and tan being the only accents. Even to seller’s booths mostly carried red goods. The odd dot of blue or green always caught her eye, which seemed to be the point.

She paused at a booth selling jewelry, a nicely woven chain had caught her eye. A pair of eyes settled on her and she looked up into a pair of blue eyes so familiar her chest ached. But it couldn’t be. He’d always gone on about how he stayed away from Gallifrey as much as possible. And besides, even if it was, he wouldn’t know her. She couldn’t interact with him. 

His lips parted and she watched him inhale sharply, something like wonder blooming in those blue eyes and she could resist grinning at him. An answering smile made his face even more handsome than it was at rest and she finally managed to look away, buying the chain from the vendor and moving on.

*

He followed her, couldn’t seem to make himself head in any other direction, still caught in her gravitational pull. She was like a sun, shining gold and red, and he was helpless to resist. 

She paused in the food area, seeming to struggle with what to order and he swooped in, grateful for an opportunity to start a conversation. “I wouldn’t recommend the lemonade. Pear flavored.” He explained as he moved to stand next to her. It wasn’t his smoothest line, but it made her smile up at him and that was always a good sign. 

“I happen to love pears.” She replied playfully, turning to look at him. 

He scoffed. “Rubbish little fruit, pears. You can never get them when they’re ripe, and even if you’re lucky, the flavor is horrid.”

She giggled and he coveted the sound, eager to hear it again. “I hate raspberries.” She whispered conspiratorially. “Absolutely despise them.”

He gasped. “How could you? They’re a perfectly lovely fruit.”

“They’re tart and watery. Would much rather eat a pear.”

“That settles it them. You can have all my pears, and I will eat all your raspberries.” He offered a hand to shake on it, a distant part of him wondering what he was doing. He didn’t even know this girl’s name and here he was, offering to make a deal with her?

But there was something about her, he still couldn’t put his finger on it, but she felt safe. The same sensation of home that he only felt on the TARDIS. 

The girl looked at his hand for a moment and then shook it. “My name is Val.” She offered, and he was grateful he didn’t have to ask. “Short for the Valiant.”

His eyebrows rose. “You’re a renegade?” He asked, surprised by the title. He’d met most of the renegade Time Lords, or so he thought. 

Another one of those glorious giggles escaped her. “In a way. But you’re being very rude, I’ve given you my name and you haven’t said anything in return.”

“Right, oh yes- of course.” He scrambled, trying to come up with a name. His title was well known on Gallifrey and he was rather enjoying the anonymity this girl, Valiant (though that name didn’t seem to truly suit her) provided him. “My name is Theta.” He flinched internally. He’d hated that nickname in school but it was the only alias of his that wouldn’t get him caught.

“Theta.” She repeated, shaking his hand once and then releasing him. “What would you recommend, then? If I’m supposed to avoid the lemonade?” She gave him that smile again, the one with her tongue in her teeth and the Doctor was lost. 

*

Hours and hours later, Rose was exhausted, but happier than she’d been in years. 

They’d taken in everything the festival had to offer; from the food, games, dancing, and shopping they’d done it all, never leaving each other’s side. 

Just after nightfall, they’d procured a bottle of lemonade (this one solely lemon flavored) and a lovely blanket with the constellation Kasterborous embroidered on it. Then he’d taken her out of the city into a massive field of red grass. They spread the blanket out and laid back on it, watching the stars. 

It was so achingly familiar to her time with the Doctor. 

Most of the day had been like that.

Every now and again, Theta would say something or look at her in a way that reminded her so strongly of the Doctor that she couldn’t breathe. 

He opened the lemonade and passed it to her. “I hope you don’t mind sharing. Didn’t think to get cups.”

Rose laughed. “’S alright. I’m not afraid of your cooties.” She teased, taking the bottle and drinking some. It fizzed on her tongue like a soda, she hadn’t been expecting that.

He gave her an odd look and she realized Gallifrey probably had no concept of cooties then he smiled and seemed to brush it off. “You mentioned earlier that you’d just come from earth. How did you like it?" 

"I love earth. It’s one of my favorite planets.” She passed the lemonade back to him. “I feel more at home there than I ever will on Gallifrey.” Not that she’d ever see Gallifrey again. Once she managed to get off this planet, her proper timeline would assert itself and Gallifrey would be gone again. 

Theta would be dead, along with the rest of the Doctor’s people. 

“I feel the same.” He said, pulling her from her melancholy thoughts. “Humans are incredibly brilliant creatures. I’m always fascinated by their capacity to do so much good.”

Rose relaxed back onto the blanket, staring up at the stars. 

*

“Come with me.” The Doctor offered suddenly. 

Val turned to him, her eyes wide. “What?” She breathed, even though she must have heard him. 

“Come travel with me. I have my own TARDIS. Anywhere, anywhere in the universe you want,” he struggled to keep the pleading tone out of his voice. He never begged, he never asked twice. Those were the rules, but this was the first time he’d met a member of his own species who seemed to completely understand why’d run in the first place. 

“I can’t.” She said softly, like she was afraid of letting him down. “Theta, I- I’m looking for a friend. Lost contact with him awhile ago, and I’m trying to find him.”

“And you think you’ll find him here?” He asked and watched Val’s face suddenly go pale.

“No, I need to get off-world to find him. But I’m not going to use you to do that. You’re my friend.” She said firmly, like her mind was set and he couldn’t help but admire her more. 

“I’m more than willing to help you find your friend. Or just give you a lift.” This did not count as asking twice, he told himself. It was clarifying the offer. And maybe, once she found her friend again, she’d decide to keep traveling with him anyway. And besides, even if she went with her friend, it wasn’t like he’d never be able to see her again. 

“Alright. I’ll go with you.”

[brianc521]

Farmers Daughter

His truck tires crunch against the loose gravel and dirt of the back road. The bumps and imperfections of the tire tracks he’s following jostle the cab around. He’s looking around at the acres and acres of land leading to the small white house at the end of the road.

He pulls up behind a black pickup, his beat up Chevy, “Ole Red” fitting right in with the farm surrounding him. Stepping out he takes in the smell of the fresh air, hay, and the barn across the way. He turns in a complete circle, taking in his surroundings, neck already beading with sweat.

“How can I help you son?” An older gentleman stepped off the two stepped porch, walking his way.

“Mornin’ Sir,” Shawn stuck his hand out, firmly shaking his hand. “Mr. L/n, I heard you needed help with the farm this summer.”

“I do, my son just recently enlisted and shipped out. I’m down the strong arms I once had,” He chuckles, grabbing the bill of his at and pushing the sweat off his forehead before placing his ratty ball cap on his head. “You’re interested?”

“Yes Sir, been looking for some work. I thought I’d let you know I’m your man.”

Mr. L/n nods, turning and looking at the hay bails by the barn, then around at the rest of the farm. “Well,” He clears his throat. “The fence needs fixin’, the peaches need pickin’, and the cows need bringin’ round.”

Shawn nodded, spotting the first three tasks around the farm. “Yes Sir,” He nodded again.

“Tools are in the barn, top shelf in the shed. Water from the hose is fine, so drink from that if you need it. We start when the sun does, we quit when the sun does. Fair?”

“Fair.” Shawn agreed.

“Alright, let’s get to it.”

With that Shawn set out to the barn, looking around and digging his hands into the tools he’d need to fix the fence.

**

By lunch Shawn was dripping in sweat. He’d completed the first three tasks only to be handed three more and another three after that.

The summer heat was brutal, his skin was already burning red, and the icky sticky wet feeling was running down his spine.

Walking down a shady trail, in hopes of finding a cool spot somewhere in the trees he stumbles upon a creek set in the middle of a wall of trees. He smiles, walking towards the dock, kicking his boots and socks off, rolling his jeans up past his knees.

He takes a seat on the dock, letting his feet and shins soak in the cool water. With his head thrown back, eyes closed, and shoulders relaxing he sighs in relief. This was a lot more work than he really expected. It seemed never ending and it was back breaking work. He’d definitely never have to go to the gym if he were to keep the job, and the tan he’d get by the end of summer would have him glowing through Christmas.

His head whips over back to the trail when he hears a car drive past. He sits tall, trying to see if he can catch a glimpse of the car through the branches of the trees around him, with no such luck.

**

“Mother fucking,” He mutters, throwing the bail of hay on the new pile he’s created.

The afternoon heat was worse than the morning heat. It seemed to just stand where it was, bathing him in the 102 degrees. His curls were hidden under his ball cap that he fished out of the back bed of his truck, working to keep them off his forehead.

The ropes tied around the hay bails had cut and dug into his skin, burning and stinging every time he’d pick up a new one.

This was starting to become too much. His shoulders were raging in pain, his feet screaming in his boots, and his face red in frustration.

“‘I’m your man’ what fucking bullshit,” He said, throwing that last hay bail and getting ready to storm off to Mr. L/n, tell him to take the job and shove it. This was utter hell.

He stomps from the barn back to the house, seeing how Mr. L/n looked much the same as he does, desperately drinking from a mason jar full of ice tea.

“Shawn,” He acknowledges.

“Look Mr. L/n,” He starts but halts all the words ready to fall from his lips when the screen door screeches open.

“Dad, more tea?” You ask, holding the pitcher in your hand.

Shawn looks up and stares at you.

You’re gorgeous. He swallows thickly, brown eyes widening, and all thoughts escaping his brain. Your eyes locked with his and he wanted to drop to his knees. You were so pretty. Your full lips curled up into a smile, hair pulled up into a ponytail, white tank top and short jean shorts with brown boots on your feet.

“I’m good Darlin’” Mr. L/n said looking down at his still full glass.

“Who’s this?” You ask still staring at Shawn.

Staring at his chiseled, strong jaw, at his bulging biceps, and the fact that you can see his glorious abs through the white wife beater tank top.

He’d taken his pearl snap off mid morning, leaving him in the tank top and his jeans.

His flushed face makes you blush, and the way he bites his lip as he stares at you with his captivating brown eyes has you melting right there.

“This is Shawn,” Your Dad introduces. “He’s helping me with the farm,”

Shawn looks back to your Dad for a split second, seemingly snapping back to reality before standing up straighter and clearing his throat.

“Well, Shawn,” You smile, giggling at the way he gawks when you say his name. “Would you like some tea?”

He blushes, shaking his head. “No Ma’am.” He drawls out, and his voice is dripping honey. It’s so sweet, thick, slow. Wow

“Shawn what were you saying?” Your Dad captures his attention again.

“I just wanted to let you know that I was headed out for the day and that I’ll see you in the morning.” All other negative thoughts out the window.

“Alright,” Your Dad nods. “More work tomorrow.”

“Yes Sir,” Shawn nods. He then looks at you, tipping his hat with a small smile, “Ma’am.”

With that he walks back to his truck, noticing your white dodge truck parked by the tree with the swing on the long branch.

Climbing in he watches you as you lean against the rail, biting on the tip of your finger as you watch him drive away.

One glance from you and he was spinning. “Wow I love my job.” He smiled, driving away from you and the farm.

**

He’d figured out your name was Y/n, four days after the meeting on the porch. He’d also found out that you were home from Panama city, back for the summer to help with the house chores and horses.

He noticed that he was looking for you all the time, never finding you, but always looking.

Until you found him….

He was back at the creek, soaking his feet again, enjoying the chicken salad sandwich your mother offered, and the sweet iced tea you made, from a mason jar.

“He’s such a fucking asshole,” You yelled, throwing a rock into the creek.

Shawn jumped, the soothing silence he was in suddenly no longer silent. He turned over his shoulder, mid bite when you saw him.

“Oh, sorry. Did I get you? I have awful aim.”

He smiled, shaking his head no. “You okay?” He asked once he’d swallowed his bite.

“Yeah, peachy.” You grumped, crossing your arms, tank top riding up a bit giving him a slice of skin on your tummy.

“Sounds like it.” He chuckled, trying to tear his gaze away before you caught him staring.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you knew about this. This is where I come to let my frustrations out, and rant to the trees.”

He nodded, setting his sandwich down. “I can go?” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

“No, don’t. I’m being dramatic, I’ll just go.”

“You know you could always rant to me instead of the trees.” He offered, patting the spot next to him on the dock.

You stared at him a moment, slowly moving towards him. You take a seat, also dipping your feet into the water after taking your boots off.

You jumped into a huge story about how you got into a fight with this boy you had been talking to. Telling him about what had happened, and how he’s now ditched you to go to Miranda’s party with the town blonde who gave it up to anyone that looked her way.

Shawn nodded, listening to you intently, loving the way your lips formed words, and how your accent got more thick when you really got heated. Your eyes were angry, brows furrowed, lips in a pursed line.

“Now I have to go to the party alone, if I go at all.”

He knows he shouldn’t but he didn’t want this to be the only time he spoke to you. “You could take me?” He muttered.

Your eyes went wide, “Really? You’d want to go?”

“I mean, I think I’d go wherever you wanted.” He mumbled, cheeks blushing, brain wondering where his confidence is going.

“You’ll need a cowboy hat,” You flick the bill of his ball cap.

“Have one at home.” He nods, smiling up at you. “Shall I break out my belt buckle and the good boots as well?”

“Not the good boots, those ones are fine. Show off your hard work a bit.” You smirk.

“Belt buckle, check.” He grins. “What time shall I pick you up?”

“10, meet me at the end of the drive. If my dad sees me getting into your truck he’d skin you alive.” She giggles.

A chill runs down his spine, but somehow having to hide from your Dad makes it that much more thrilling.

**

The lights to his truck are off as he pulls up beside you, seated on the big rock by the lone white mailbox.

He hops out of the truck as you start to stand. He looks good, extremely good. His dark blue jeans, black shirt that hugs his chest just enough to make you go a bit crazy. And that belt buckle is doing things to you that you never thought imaginable.

“You look beautiful.” He smiles, offering his hand to help you up into the truck.

You stand in front of him in your red paisley summer dress. Brown belt cinching the waist, matching boots on your feet. Your hair hangs in loose curls, your bangs clipped to the right side.

“Thank you, you look handsome.” You reach up and tuck one of his crazy curls back into the messy pile.

He blushes, ducking his head so you can reach better.

“Thank you, Ma’am.” He teases, opening the door for you.

You giggle and decide to tease as well, “I see no hat? I’m not sure we can go.”

He smirks, “Hats in the back Ma’am, looks like were going.” He grins, giving you a boost up into his truck and shutting the door for you.

**

“You made me dress up for a bonfire?” He chuckles as you both walk towards the empty field crawling in the young generation from town.

“Look around, you fit right in.” You look up at his black cowboy hat that just completes his look and has you melting every time he smiles at you.

“I feel a bit overdressed, had I’d known it was a bonfire I would have brought a flannel, or a jacket for you.” His rough fingertips brush over your bare shoulder.

“I’m good,” You shake your head.

“Thirsty?” He asks looking over at the kegs and coolers by the trucks that are blaring music.

“Yeah,”

“Be right back then.”

He stalks off, receiving gawks from all the girls he walks past. You turn and watch him leave, appreciating the way his jeans hold his ass. You just want to slip your hands into his back pockets.

“Y/n?” Jackson says, making you whip around.

The blonde, Jessica, hanging off his arm, smirking at you and how she’s got him and you don’t.

“Jack,” You say taking a step back, backing into a strong chest.

You look down as a hand sneaks around your waist pulling you into him, that hand holding a red solo cup full of beer. “Drink?” Shawn whispers into your ear.

You look up at him, smiling at the way he’s glaring at Jackson. You take the cup and let his hand rest of your stomach, almost protectively.

“Who’s this?” Jackson spits. You look back at Jackson and Jessica, loving the way her jaws’ dropped at the sight of Shawn.

“Jack this is Shawn, my date. Shawn this is Jack, someone I went to school with.”

Shawn nods, humming lowly. “Hi,” He plays nice.

“What about me Y/n!” Jessica pipes up. “I’m Jessica, a good friend.” She sticks her manicured hand out to shake his, but Shawn doesn’t move.

“Nice to meet you.” He says softly. “Dance with me?” He returns his attention to you, leaning over to look at your face.

“Love to.” You smile, “Good to see you guys,” You wave to Jackson and Jessica.

“You guys seem happy together, meant to be.” Shawn snides, earning a hit to the arm from you.

He’s laughing as you pull him to the little area where everyone is dancing to the Luke Bryan song blasting from the speakers on the back of someones truck.

“That must of been the dickhead that decided to go with fake boobs Barbie?” Shawn sips from his cup before setting it down next to yours and grabbing your hands.

You throw you head back in laughter, loving how he’s defensive of you already. You notice how Jack and Jessica also move over to dance near you guys.

“They’re staring at us.” You lean up to speak into his ear.

He looks over his shoulder and notices how Jack is staring at you intently, and how Jessica bats her fake lashes at him.

“Then let's give them a show.” He murmurs.

You raise an eyebrow in shock while he raises both of his to see if you want to. You grin evilly, biting your lip, eyes darkening. Your hands reach out, fingers curling over the top of his belt buckle, pulling his swaying hips close to yours. He inhales sharply, looking at you as his eyes bleed black, watching you bite your lip.

The song changes, making your bodies mold together, rolling to the beat. You two are basically dry humping right there in the middle of the field, and soon you both forget the reason for the ‘show’ now all too consumed with the other.

“You smell amazing,” He husks into your ear, lips kissing a soft chaste kiss right below your earlobe. When you gasp he kisses you there again, sucking a sore spot, making you moan softly.

“Oh god,” You sigh, clutching the back of his curls tighter, letting your eyes close at the sensual feeling.

He hums against your skin, licking at the purple bruise once he’s done with his assault. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Okay cowboy, calm down.” You giggle, looking up at his blown eyes and swollen lips.

His happy smile changes when he sees Jackson approach. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Dancing?” You ask, moving closer to Shawn as his arm tugs you into him.

“How dare you let some other guy suck on your neck when we’re a thing?”

“We’re not a thing, we might’ve been. But you decided Jessica was a better option, but that’s okay. I found a better option too.”

Shawn smirks, waving at Jackson, who scoffs and stomps off.

You look back up and laugh as Shawn mimics his stomping. “You look mighty beautiful when you laugh Ma’am.” Shawn’s hands rest on your waist as you grip his shirt.

You giggle, smiling up at him with bright eyes.

He reaches up, taking his hat off and resting it on your head, tipping it back so he can still see your eyes. “Mhm, perfect.” He hums in content.

“Let’s get out of here.” You say, tugging him back to his truck.

**

He drives along the empty back-roads, laughing, but also a little stressed because you’ve unrolled the passenger window all the way, sitting on the ledge, whooping and hollering out in the open breeze. Hands up, legs crossed, toes pointed to help keep your balance.

You scream when he hits a bump in the road that causes you to jump a bit. You laugh after and bang on the top of the truck yelling out “Go faster!”

He won’t do it, he wants you back in, it’s stressing him out to see you half out of the truck while it’s moving.

He reaches over, hooking his fingers in your belt tugging you back. “Come back!” He yells, tugging some more.

You slide back into the cab, smiling at him, hair all messy from the wind. “Can I drive?”

He looks over with wide eyes, “There’s nowhere to pull over.”

“Here.” You giggle, sliding over and tumbling onto his lap, feet resting over his on the pedals.

He laughs, kissing on your bare shoulder, “You’re trying to kill me huh?”

“Live a little.” You lay on the horn, throwing your head back in laughter as he tenses.

“We can live, just like not try to kill ourselves. This night is too good, I’d like to actually be able to take you out again.”

“Oh?” You smile.

“Yeah,” He lets his hands rest on your bare thighs as you steer.

“Tomorrow?” You ask.

“Sounds perfect.” He laughs, kissing at the hickey he left behind your ear.

**

You and Shawn have been sneaking around for a few weeks now, and when he pulls up Friday morning he finds the farm quiet and a note on the barn door saying that your Dad’s out of town for the weekend, and what Shawn was expected to do while he was away.

He got to work, hauling the new hay barrels, and bringing the cows around.

When it was quitting time he was surprised at how quiet it was, you hadn’t been around which was kind of shocking considering you were always there at some point to bring out water and sneak in a kiss or too from his juicy lips.

He looked around the house, and in the stables to see if he could find you but came up empty. When he went back out front his truck was missing. Panic settled into his veins as he looked around, stepping on a cut board. He looked down to see it was cut in the shape of an arrow, pointing down the trail.

He smiled, now seeing arrows pointing his way. He followed the arrows, knowing where they were leading. He knew it was to the creek, where you probably were.

He gasped when he saw what you set up.

There parked by the dock was his truck, the bed made up with pillows and blankets. A string of bulb lights hanging across the back window. There were light up flowers floating in the creek, and lanterns sitting on the corners of the dock, creating a sexy romantic mood.

And the most amazing thing he’d ever seen stood in the middle of the dock. You stood barefoot, white shawl wrapped around you, allowing your bare shoulders to stand out in the glow you’d created. Your hair was flowing off your left shoulder, as you swayed back and forth to the soft music you had playing from your speaker.

“Wow,” He sighed, walking across the dock to you.

“Hi,” You blushed.

“Hi,” He said looking up and around again. “What is this?” He asked softly.

“When we talked, the night when were night swimming, you mentioned you wanted it to be special. I hope I made it special.”

“Baby,” He looked around, “It’s perfect.” He looked back at you. “I was supposed to be the one who made it perfect.”

“Who cares,” You said before being interrupted.

He picked you up, letting your legs wrap around his narrow waist. He set you on the hatch of the truck, standing between your thighs. He leans up and kisses you softly, humming as you curl your fingers into his hair.

“You smell so good,” He whispers as he kisses down your jaw to your neck, hands running up and down your thighs.

You bite your lip, moaning softly as he finds your sweet spot behind your ear, sucking on it.

“Shawn,” You sigh, gripping his shoulders and digging your nails into the skin there, leaving half crescent moons in the wake.

His burning lips are igniting little fires underneath the skin on your neck and collarbone. You sigh, letting your head fall back.

“Shawn,” You say again, tugging on his curls, pulling his head back so you can meet his lips with your own.

He starts to suck on your bottom lip, letting his hands pull the shawl off your shoulders, leaving you in your bralette and silk sleep shorts. He pulls away, looking at you and your body for a good moment, eyes wide and blown, lips red and swollen, hair messy and puffy.

“God you’re beautiful.” He whispers, looking back up into your eyes. “Scoot back,” He runs a hand on your thigh, thumb tapping softly.

You do scoot back, watching him climb up the hatch and push you back on the bed you’ve got set up. He hovers over you, leaning back down to kiss your lips again, this time you let your hands wander up under his shirt. You follow all the lines of his glorious torso, letting your fingers trace every dip and muscle.

He pulls back, grabbing the collar of his shirt pulling it over his head and tossing it next to your shawl by the end of the hatch.

You smile, reaching for him, hands on his neck as you pull him back down to your lips.

The kissing goes on for awhile and slowly his hands start to explore, dipping below the waist of your shorts, tracing along the lace fabric of your panties.

“Can I take your shorts off?” He asks against your mouth, chest rising and falling rapidly, nerves running through his veins.

“Yes,” You nod, pecking his lips.

His fingers curl around the waistband on both hips, and you lift them so he can pull them off. He smiles his giddy smile, the one that makes his eyes crinkle, as he tosses them off to the side with the rest of your clothes.

“You’re so pretty,” He grins, swooping back in, but this time kissing down your body and back up.

You start to fumble with his belt and are quickly ridding him of his work jeans, admiring the tight black boxer briefs that hold him and his ass quite nicely.

His fingers play with the strap of your bralette, his silent question hanging in the air as you sit up a bit to help him take it off. You smile at his blanched expression, and slip the thin material off.

“Gorgeous.” He blurts, trying not to stare too long, but not being able to help himself.

You giggle and reach for his hands. “Baby you can touch.” You bring his cold hands to your breasts, gasping a little when his cold fingers come into contact.

“You’re incredible.” He says to himself as you lay back down.

With the removal of your panties and his boxers, and the adding of a condom, Shawn’s hovering over you. His lips move softly, slowly, he’s taking his time with you.

“Okay,” He says looking down between you for a second then back up to your eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Of course.” You smile, letting your hands caress his hips as he moves closer.

“Gonna be gentle.” He hums, slowly slipping in. “Oh god,” He drops his head to your neck, groaning into your skin as he slips in halfway.

You inhale sharply, back arching, pushing your breasts into his chest. He pushes in the rest of the way, moaning your name as he sits for a second. Letting the both of you get acquainted with the new feeling.

And he was truthful, he was gentle. So gentle with you. It was slow, and soft, sensual and romantic. Bringing you both to the breaking point and shattering mere seconds after you did. Once he cleaned up a bit, disposing of his condom and wrapping you up in the blankets you supplied, he laid with you.

He was practically wrapped around you, and as you both laid and stared up at the stars he knew you were it. Because while all the stars were shining so bright in the dark night sky, you were the only thing he could really see, and you were the only thing he wanted to see.

“I love you,” He uttered as you cuddled into his warm chest.

You looked up, eyelashes fluttering as he kisses your forehead. “I love you too.” You smile up at him, catching his attention, leaning up to kiss him softly.

“Thought you were asleep.”

“Nope,” You whisper, cuddling back into him, letting your eyes fall closed.

“Best night of my life.”

**

You watched him from the kitchen window, admiring his body, and the way it flexed each time he moved to pick up a new board for the gate.

He was wearing a black wife beater this time, in his dark blue work jeans that were getting warn, and thin, that let you see each curve his body had to offer.

You were hot and bothered, how could you not be? It’s why you find yourself marching up to him, knowing full well your Dad had gone into town for more cow feed.

He looked up when her heard your footsteps approaching. “Yes?” He smirked.

“Break time?” You offered an evilly sweet smile.

“No,” He shook his head, looking around to make sure your Dad wasn’t around.

“Yes,” You whined, stepping closer, making his eyes go wide.

“Baby what are you doing?” He asks, breath hitching when you grab his belt buckle, slowly undoing it, letting it drop by your feet. “Baby!” He hisses when you undo the button of his pants.

“What?” You feign innocence.

“You’re Dad is literally around the barn,”

“Actually he took Mama into town for lunch and cow feed, we’re alone.”

His eyes lock on yours, hands frozen as you grin up at him.

“And you’re looking mighty fine out here, sweating and working, in these jeans.”

“You like my jeans?” He asks smugly, letting you push him back towards the clearing in the trees. The blanket still laid out from when you both were there last night.

“Leave little to the imagination,” You hum.

“You dreaming ‘bout me Baby?”

“Keep up with your smug ass and you won’t be getting the quickie.”

He makes a motion of zipping his lips and throwing away the key.

“Good boy,” You whisper, taking his tank top off.

“Always am Sweetheart.”

**

Laying in his arms, post orgasmic glow bright on both of your faces, as he nuzzles closer, kissing your sweet spot behind your ear.

“Baby,” He whispers.

“Mm,” You hum, eyes fluttering shut as you burrow into his arms.

“I wanna tell your Dad,”

You jolt, looking up at him with wide eyes, “Tell him what?”

“That we’re together.”

He still looks so happy, so dopeyily in love that he doesn’t seem to know what he’s saying.  

“No,” You shake your head, “He’d kill you, and he’d kill me.”

“No he wouldn’t.”

“Babe do you know how many times he’s told me to stay away from you.” You giggle, not noticing the frown the plants on his lips.

“What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing, but he just thinks that I could do better,”

You’re words aren’t comprehending to yourself as you say them. You don’t notice the way they make Shawn’s eyes droop, and how his lips are in a deep frown, eyebrows furrowed harshly.

It’s then that you both hear his truck crunch the gravel, and you’re quick to get up and get dressed before he finds you both naked, cuddling between the trees.

“I have to go before he notices I’m not in the house,” You say quietly as you put your boots on.

“Um,” Shawn says, brain still foggy as your words before ring through his head.

“I love you, I’ll find ya before you leave.” You lean up, pecking his lips before running off.

“Um yeah,” He watches you run off, looking around an letting his shoulders drop as he goes back to working on the gate.

**

When he starts walking up to the house, to start cleaning up to leave for the day, he hears you and your Dad talking by the porch.

“The Jonas boy?” He asks.

“Just got married Dad,” You sigh.

“The brother then?”

“Engaged,” You shrug.

“Well, you’ll find a good boy to settle down with. Maybe Niall, from down the road. He’s always been real nice, real polite.”

“He’s a friend Dad,”

Shawn shakes his head, tossing his work gloves to the side of the house, stomping to his truck, reviving Ole Red up, ready to peel off the farm, maybe go beat the shit out of Niall, even though he’s a close family friend.

He’s just starting to back up when he sees you come running around the house, towards his truck in a hurry.

“Hey!” You stop him from going any further. “Where are you going? I said I was gonna come find you, you never leave without a goodbye kiss.”

“No,” He shakes his head, not allowing you to make it all better like that.

“Shawn?” You ask, noticing his hurt expression. “What happened?”

“Tell your Dad that I’m done for the summer,” He takes his ball cap off, flinging it in the back.

“What do you mean?”

“Obviously I’m not enough,” He spits, making you slouch in realization. “Couldn’t finish the gate like he asked me too, so?” But you know what he’s really talking about.

“You know I don’t believe him right?” You say reaching inside to take his hand, but he scoots away. “Shawn,” You say sternly. “Look at me.”

His sad eyes come up, peering into yours, noticing your Dad standing on the porch, hands on his hips as he watches you both.

“I don’t believe him,” You say softly, trying to calm situation down.

“If you didn’t believe, you’d let me tell him.” He says looking back at the steering wheel before backing up and off the farm, and you weren’t sure if he was ever coming back.

“Y/n!” You Dad called as you raced after his truck a bit, before turning quickly and rushing inside to grab your keys. “What are you doing, you stay away from him. You deserve better than some boy who wants to work on a farm.”

“And what if he is just trying to help you? Please you? Get on your good side?” You spit as you look at your Dad.

“Why would he do that?”

“Because we’re together. Because we’ve been together all summer. Because I love him.”

Your Dad stands dumbfounded. You push past him to your truck, the one you haven’t touched all summer since you’ve been firmly planted in Shawn’s passenger seat.

You go to turn it on, but it won’t turn. Just clicks at you.

“No!” You pound on the steering wheel. “No!” You try again, still no start. “Fuck!”

“Here,” Your Dad holds out his keys as he stands by your unrolled window. “Go get him.”

You look up with wide eyes, not missing a beat as you grab the keys off his fingers and jumping in his truck.

And watching you drive away your Mama joins your Dad on the porch, curling around his arm, watching the dust settle as you race after him. 

“Remember when that was us?” She asks.

**

It took you 6 stops, and then finally going to his Mama, who, already knew two were together. She told you one last place to check, and sure enough that’s where he was.

In the back corner of the local record store, digging through a box of old records from the bargain bin.

You slowly approach, scared of startling him. So you take the time to study him, it’s really the first time you’ve seen him outside the farm or a late night adventure between you two.

He’s just in his element, face relaxed, eyes peaceful as he picks a record up, eyes flickering up when he sees your shadow.

“Oh,” Falls from his lips as he locks eyes with you.

“Hi,” You whisper, suddenly feeling like you have to be quiet in the peaceful environment.

“Hi,” He says cautiously.

“Um, you’re Mama told me you’d be here if you weren’t at all the other places I’d already checked.”

He nodded, letting his nervous fingers play with the worn corner of the cardboard sleeve.

“She’s real nice,” You tiptoe closer. “Told me she’d heard a lot about me.” You grin at him.

“Yeah well,” He mumbles, looking back down.

“Wanna know a secret.” You take a seat next to him on the floor.

“Sure,” He hums.

“My Mama’s heard a lot about you too,”

His head whips over, curls flopping over with the sudden movement. “Really?”

“Yeah, since the first day I met you, asking if you wanted some tea.”

He grins, remembering the day.

“Wanna know another secret,”

He nods, still quiet. You giggle as you rest your head on his shoulder.

“My Dad gave me his truck to come find you,” You whisper again.

“He what?”

“My truck wouldn’t start when I tried to run after you.” You sigh, eyes closing as you tell him what happened. “So he gave me his keys to go after you. Well, after I told him that we’re together.”

“You really told him?”

“Yeah,” You look up at him, watching his soft gaze land on you. “I never believed the words that came out of his mouth, and I guess I should have said that when I told you what I did this afternoon. I just kind of figured you already knew that, since I’m kind of in love with you.”

He blushes, cheeks rosy, spreading to the tips of his ears as he smiles at you.

“I’m in love with you too.”

You look down at the record in his hands, tipping it towards you.

“Aw!” You gasp, hopping up, taking the record with you to put it on the player. “I love Elvis.” You sigh as the deep voice comes from the speakers.

“I know,” Shawn whispers in your ear, arms circling around you from behind.

“Dance with me.” You whisper, turning in his hold as you both start to sway to the beat, softly singing the words to each other.

“What are we gonna do when you go back to Panama City?” He asks.

“I’m not going back, told Mama that I’m meant to be on the farm. Told her maybe I’d take over so her and Dad can go retire on the beach like they’ve always talked about.”

Shawn chuckles, “Mhm, and you’re gonna bail the hay, and bring the cows round, fix the fence that’s constantly breaking?”

You pull back just enough to see his face, grinning ear to ear, “No, I’m good at the ice tea part, and caring for the horses.”

“That you are, but the other stuff kind of needs to happen too,”

“Good thing I’m in love with someone who already knows how to do that stuff,”

“Bold of you to think that I enjoy my job,” He grins.

“Don’t lie to me,” You giggle, “You hated it when you started, but you love it now.”

He can’t lie, he did hate it when he started, but over time the work got enjoyable. He liked the peacefulness of it all. The quiet but the loud, the lonely but the crowded, and he definitely loved ending his day with you smiling from the porch.

** 2 years later**

He’s wiping the sweat off his brow as he climbs off the tractor he’s parked close to the barn. He tosses his gloves into the barn as he walks through, hoping to get a quick shower before coming in for the dinner you’ve prepared.

He’s just turned the water on when the barn door slides open wider, he turns and looks over his shoulder to see you standing in the doorway.

“Yes?” He asks with a little chuckle.

“What are you doing?” You ask with your hands on your hips.

“Was gonna take a shower before coming in to spend the rest of the night with my wife,” He leans against the newly built wall in the barn.

You smirk, starting to unbutton your flannel.

“What are you doing Mrs. Mendes?”

“Was gonna take a shower with the farm help before spending the rest of the night with my husband.” You answer with a teasing grin on your face.

“The farm help?” He laughs, head back as he claps a bit.

“Shut up,” You giggle, pushing him towards the newly installed bathroom.

He’s still chuckling as you both step under the cold water.

“There a reason you’re taking a cold shower?” You ask with a raised brow.

“Might have been sneaking some glances at my hot wife.” He sidles up next to you.

“Oh?” You push.

“And might’ve needed to take care of something.” He grins, nipping at your earlobe.

“Can I help with that?”

“Yes you can.” He grins.

** 18 years later**

He stands by the barn, rough hands picking up a new slat for the fence when he hears the gravel crunch under a truck.

He peers around the house, catching sight of an old red truck coming up the drive. He starts walking towards it, confused at who this was.

A young man steps out of the truck, looking around at the farm before standing in front of Shawn.

“Heard you needed help on the farm.” The kid says.

And Shawn just smirks.

[jupitermelichios]

So you want to read Marvel comics

A while back I made a post of Marvel & DC comics that would make a good intro into the world of comics, and I thought it was time for an update. So here’s some more short run Marvel comics to try if you’re just getting into comics (or some recs for those of you who already are).

Press J to skip this post.

1. X-Club (2012) - 5 issues. 

I’m always a little wary of recommending Si Spurrier’s Marvel comics to new readers, because no matter what Marvel want him to do he writes in a universe largely divorced from continuity. That said, the Marvel universe in his head is a glorious mess of high camp, melodrama and comedy and I love it. X-Club is one of his best Marvel works, focussing on the scientists who surround the X-Men. Funny, silly and with some great character moments.

Written by Si Spurrier, drawn by Paul Davidson, coloured by Rachelle Rosenburg

Starring: Dr Nemesis, Kavita Rao, Danger, Madison Jeffries

Best for fans of comedy action

2. New Warriors (2014) - 12 issues

This book got cancelled just as it was really finding its feet, but while I would have loved to see more, they did a great job of wrapping up most of their plot threads in time for the issue 12 finale. Like all the best Marvel comics, this is best described as a romp, about superpowered teenagers taking on a villain called the High Evolutionary (whose whole deal is furries). I read it knowing nothing about most of the characters and was rarely confused, despite it being a sequal to previous New Warriors books. A great introduction to one of Marvel’s perennial teen teams.

Written by Christopher Yost, drawn by Marcus To, coloured by David Curiel and Ruth Redmond

Starring: Justice, Speedball, Nova (Sam Alexander), Sun Girl, Scarlet Spider (Kaine), Hummingbird, Haechi, Silhouette, Water Snake, The High Evolutionary, The Celestials

Best for fans of young adult adventure

3. Angela: Asguard’s Assasin (2014) - 6 issues

This is the first in a 3 part series, followed by Angela 1601 and Angela: Queen of Hel, all of which are wonderful. Do you want transwomen? Do you want women of colour? Do you want women loving women while also having space-opera adventure quests? Then you need Angela and her wife Sera, here to bring you the good news of queer comic-book writers. Honestly I can’t tell you how good the Angela series is - you need to go read it for yourself. Plus it’s a veritable who’s who of Asguard, so a great introduction to that part of earth 616

Written by Keiron Gillen & Magueritte Bennet

Starring: Angela (Aldrif), Sera, Malekith the Accursed, Thor, Odin, Freyja, Rocket Raccoon, Groot, Gamora, Star-Lord, Drax the Destroyer, Heidall, Sif, The Warriors Three, Loki

Best for fans of high fantasy lesbians

4. Ultimates (2015) - 12 issues

How high can sci-fi get before it loops back round to being fantasy? This is a book which walks that line - sci-fi so metaphysical it’s almost philosophy, except it’s not because it’s Superheroes in spandex fighting an all powerful being in the universe’s silliest hat.

Written by Al Ewing 

Starring: America Chavez, Spectrum, Blue Marvel, Captain Marvel, Black Panther, Galactus

Best for fans of high sci-fi

5. New Avengers (2015) - 18 issues

If any comic deserved 6 season and a movie it’s this 2015 title. When Science Super-villains A.I.M run out of funds they decide to sell off the organisation. Former New Mutant Sunspot has a massive fortune, a desire to save the world, and a flair for the dramatic. It’s a match made in heaven. (Fans of the book don’t despair, it got a sequel in 2017′s U.S.Avengers).

Written by Al Ewing

Starring: Sunspot, Squirrel Girl, Wiccan, Hulkling, Power Man (Victor Alvarez), White Tiger, Hawkeye (Clint Barton), Songbird, Red Hulk, The Maker, POD, Iron Patriot (Toni Ho), Red Hulk (General Maverick), Canonball

Best for fans of comedy drama

6. Royals (2017) - 12 issues

This is Al Ewing’s third appearance on this list, because he really is just that good a writer. This is the perfect introduction to the Inhumans, who are way more interesting than the TV show would have you believe. This is classic space opera - a warring family of royalty on an epic quest to save their dying race from certain extinction. I didn’t think I liked the Inhumans until I read this book.

Written by Al Ewing

Starring: Medusa, Maximus the Mad, Gorgon, Swain, Flint, Marvel Boy (Noh-Var), Ronan the Accuser

Best for fans of space-opera

7. Mockingbird (2016) - 8 issues

If James Bond were an american woman with superpowers, actual human emotions and a chemistry degree, he’d be Mockingbird. Silly, heartfelt and deeply touching in places, this is one of my favourite short comics. Aided by her current boyfriend and his pet Corgi, SHIELD agent Bobbi Morse solves mysteries, fights bad guys and tries to clear her ex-husband’s name for a murder he really did commit.

Written by Chelsea Cain

Starring: Lance Hunter, Mockingbird

Best for fans of light-hearted spy stories and geeky jokes

8. Iceman (2017) - 11 issues

I’m not going to lie, this comics was hard for me to read in places. Not because it’s bad, but because it’s good. Founding X-Man Iceman was outed as gay against his will in a controversial 2015 story. This comic follows him as he works out what his life looks like as a gay mutant, comes out to his parents, and kisses a boy for the first time. Well written and emotional, plus it’s always nice to see queer writers and artists working with queer characters. Warning that this comic deals with homophobia.

Written by Sina Grace

Starring: Iceman, Shadowcat, Daken, Oya, Hercules, Darkstar, Angel, Amp, Ghost Rider

Best for fans of drama

9. Hercules (2016) - 6 issues

Hercules is a laughing stock in the hero world, better known for his drinking than his heroism (even though he’s 10 months sober). Gilgamesh hasn’t left Herlcules’ couch for a month. But when terrifying new gods emerge in the modern age, the old gods are the only ones who can stop them. Epic in the old sense of the word.

Written by Dan Abnett

Starring: Hercules, Tyresius, Gilgamesh, Ire of the Crua before the Ice

10. Black Bolt (2017) - 12 issues

Black Bolt generated a lot of hype when issue 1 dropped last year, and it’s hardly surprising because this comic is something special. Betrayed by his brother, deposed monarch Black Bolt is locked away in the universe’s highest security prison. Depowered, trapped and tortured, he must rely on the help of his fellow prisoners to escape. If escape is even possible. Best read in tandem with Royals (above). Warning that the later part of this comic deals with past child neglect and emotional abuse.

Written by Saladin Ahmed

Starring: Black Bolt, Lockjaw, Absorbing Man, Metal Master, Blinky, Raava

Best for fans of emotional drama and prison break stories

[b0blegum]

Why Am I Here? [five]

Author: b0blegum

Pairing: Patient!Shin Hoseok x Psychiatrist!Reader

Rating: R

Genre: Psychiathriller (and a lot of smutty romance too)

CHAPTER: PROLOGUE | ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE | SIX | SEVEN | EIGHT | NINE | TEN

Status: ON GOING

TRAILER

!! I AM ALSO POSTING THIS ON WATTPAD JIC I GOT NO ACCESS TO TUMBLR ANYMORE !! (i live in a country where tumblr is blocked)

Summary

He was once an excellent doctor. An excellent psychiatrist. Everyone loved him. He was nice, kind, always care for each other, he even got the look. We can say… he was the whole package. But his glorious days ended in just one night. The night he woke up as a patient in the asylum where he worked, with no memory of why he is there or what he has done.

You shoved your phone back into down your coat pocket and tied your hair into a ponytail as you headed west.

Just as you were re-reading the observation report, you heard the door being closed and a steps coming closer in fast pace.

"(Y/n)!" You were called. It was Minhyuk.

"Oh, hi, Minhyuk." You looked at your side to find the guy already walking side to side. "Just finished with your patient?" You asked, seeing him in his coat and keeping his pen into the chest pocket.

"Yeah. She is getting a lot better." He nodded, happily. "You're going for a session?"

You smiled as an answer.

"Seriously? He just knocked you down and you're already back on track? Have you even recovered?" Minhyuk's forehead wrinkled.

"I'm fine. I'm totally fine, Minhyuk." You reassured. "The doctor said everything's fine with me."

"Really, (y/n). If i was you, i'd stopped working here and would find somewhere else to work. It's better for my health than dealing with him." Minhyuk rolled his eyes as both of you stopped near the door.

You tilted your head as you recognize something similar as to what you vaguely heard when you were on the bed.

"Minhyuk," you asked in a whisper. "How long have you been working here again?"

"Six years, why?"

"Six. Alright, that's enough to at least know the surface of the deep secret," you whispered to yourself.

"Sorry?"

"Uh- no, i... i think i might want to talk to you, just the two of us." You said carefully, looking at the guards from the edge of your eye.

"You're... scaring me, (y/n). What is it about?"

"Later, Minhyuk. Alright? I now have a session to attend." You smiled, keeping yourself mysterious from Minhyuk who was left confused.

You walked and walked until you were face to face with none other than Hyunwoo. You gave him a slight smile and mouthed him evening as a sign for him to put on the password to Hoseok's room.

The door clicked open and you pushed it in one go to reveal the quiet, pathetic room of himself. The strong scent hit your nose, once again.

He must've been taking something.

"Evening, Mr. Shin." You greeted as you laid down his progress report on the desk. He didn't budge at all, but you know he's awake, seeing how his toes curled inwards.

"Why are you still here?" He finally said words.

"I work here, so why wouldn't i be here?" You walked towards his bed.

"You should've left. I hit you the other day." He said, along with you tracing down the scar on your lower jaw.

"It's alright." You lied, but it won't help if you said the truth. "How are you today, Hoseok?"

Quiet.

"Alright. I'll wait until you're ready to talk. So take your time." You smiled as you walked back to your chair, sat yourself down and crossed your legs.

He won't budge. He kept lying on his bed, curled like a shrimp facing the empty wall. As usual, his wrists were cuffed and so were his ankles. What's different was he weren't wearing a gown today, instead he wore a white track suit, not the best, but it does look comfortable to wear.

The turtleneck wrapped his neck, might be as well as warming it. The length of the sleeves were a bit short and so were the pants, but well, you can't expect wearing what you want if you're in an institution, can you? The edge of the top was curled up, revealing a bit of his back.

Your eyes squinted as you saw reddened lines paralleled to each other on his lower back. You sat up and walked closer. He might noticed you were walking from the sound of your heels tapping the concrete ground, but he still stayed still.

Carefully, you traced around the red marks and accidentally your fingers shifted quite a lot the fabric of his top, revealing more of his back.

More marks were seen. Fresh red marks. Your mouth went open and your eyes widened before you gulped down your saliva from shock. Some of the marks were dried, but some still had a bit of blood on.

"Hoseok?" You called his name, in a whispered, don't know whether you want an explanation of this or just calling his name, telling him that you've seen just enough.

"I told you, you know nothing." He finally spoke.

"Who did this to you? Is there more?" You carefully flipped him and was even more shock as you seen a purple bruise on his abdominal area. "Hoseok, please tell me what are these?"

The boy smiled and closed his eyes. "You're the one who are shocked at this sights. I'm surprised."

You looked at him in disbelief. "What are you saying? Of course i am and not only me, anyone who sees this would act the same."

"No, they wouldn't." He scoffed. "They would even add more pain."

"Add... what? No, Hoseok,"

"They see me as an animal. They see me as a punchbag. They see me as something disgusting. I was mad at them at first, but i got used to it now."

"What are you talking about— hold on, let me call the nurse. You need some medication for those brui—"

"Trust me, you don't want to call the nurse." He stopped you from rushingly walking towards the door. "They're together."

You turned around and slowly got what he was trying to say.

He coughed as he tried to got up. "I don't know why they are doing this to me, but they really want me to admit that i killed people and until i say the thing they want me to say, they will keep torturing me."

"Our session is done for today, Hoseok." You grabbed his report and walked out. "I will talk to Mrs. Lincoln." You slammed the door.

"You're fucked up if you do that, (y/n)."

———

Mrs. Lincoln room was locked and no one had seen her since yesterday. You decided to wait in front of her office for an hour, but it was all for nothing. She didn't show up.

You

Minhyuk, where are you?

You typed on your phone and hit the send button right away.

Minhyuk, Lee

Home. Why?

You

It's about the thing earlier.Can i come to your apartment?

He didn't reply for five minutes.

Minhyuk, Lee

Sure.

Here's my address: 322, Sowol-ro

You rushed off the building to catch the last train to Minhyuk's neighborhood. It won't take long, approximately 20 minutes by train and connected 5 minutes by bus.

The thoughts of Shin Hoseok was clouding in your mind, as well as the vague conversations you heard behind the curtain as you laid on the clinic the other day.

Something must be up. Something must've happened behind the closed door and i could be their new toy.

The bus stopped right in front of the four story housing, which if you were right, one of the apartment is Minhyuk's.

You walked to the front door and passed a woman in black cape about to enter a shiny sedan with a man in uniform helping her to open the door for her. She wore a hat, but you could see a bit of her neatly styled hair underneath.

As you stopped at the front door, your eyes scanned all the doorbells, looking for the one with Minhyuk's name on the sticker and as soon as you found it, you hit the button right away.

"Come on up. Third floor, left." Minhyuk said over the speaker. You did as you were told.

The apartment was quite nice. It smelled nice, including the elevator and the corridor of his floor.

Once again, you ring his doorbell, but he opened it in no time.

"Come on in." Minhyuk smiled, greeted you in just his lounge outfit. A t-shirt and a short with a pair of home slippers on. "Just make yourself at home." He said as he grabbed a file from the table and took it with him as he entered to one of the door.

His house was not that tidy, but it was fine for a young man living alone.

"What do you want? Water? Soda?" He asked as he already made his way to the fridge.

"Anything's fine, really." You smiled.

Minhyuk was back with two cans of soda on his hand and later he handed you one as he bumped himself on the couch.

"So, what is it about?" He asked, opening his can.

"The institution." You curled your lips. Trying as careful as you could as you mention the object. You know too well that you're still a stranger of this place and Minhyuk had work a lot longer than you, so you tried to be as careful as you could.

"What about it?" He gulped down his soda. "You don't like working there?" He crossed his leg in a manly way.

"No, not that." You shook your head. "It's... i think something's is going on. Something... horrible."

"Horrible? (Y/n), what are you saying?" Minhyuk laughed.

"Minhyuk, i'm serious!" You looked offended. "When i was at the clinic, i heard... two person talking about... me and... Hoseok. One of them called Hoseok an animal and—"

"(Y/n), hey. You were under medication at that time, you might misheard what they were saying." Minhyuk leaned closer to you. "And if– if what you heard is true, well, i heard that a lot, Hoseok is called an animal."

"Minhyuk," you looked at him. "But they tortured him."

"Torture? Oh— i think i know what you meant." Minhyuk rolled his eyes. "That guy sure know how to flip a story." He sighed.

"Flip a story?"

"Were you talking about the taser marks?"

"And the bruises, yes."

"Right." Minhyuk leaned back. "You know how he knocked you down that day, right? And he sometimes attack the guards also and..." Minhyuk pulled up his shirt to reveal some of his thin abs, but there is something he actually want you to see.

"A... scar?" You asked, trying to guess what that pinky mark was.

"He stabbed me." Minhyuk pulled down his shirt. "With a shard."

"Stab you?" You whispered.

"This is why he is being treated at night. He can harm other people. I am a total stranger to him, but he attacked me anyway." Minhyuk explained.

"But... but he felt guilty about knocking me down," You said, cut by Minhyuk's scoffed.

"What if he's putting on a mask?

"A mask?"

"Come on. He act like he's guilty just to buy your sympathy." Minhyuk put down his can. "(Y/n), you're smart. I happened to read your CV and i know you're one of the best in this field." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Don't let that guy fool you. I know he has some plans and i don't want you to be used as his toy." He continued in a lower voice.

You looked down, digesting his words of advice. What Minhyuk said kind of make sense. You saw him that night and it's possible if they did it because he caused something and if he really is a psychopath, you know too damn well that he could do anything just to make his plans work. Including using you as his toy and deceiving you.

"Well, uh..."

"(Y/n), it's getting late. I think it's better for you to go home." Minhyuk stood up and his his hands into his shorts pocket.

You glanced over your watch and yes, it's almost 11 at night. "Yes, it's getting late." You stood up and walked with him to the door. "Minhyuk, thank you so much." You smiled as you turned around to meet the guy's eyes.

"No problem. If you have something that bothers you, don't hesitate to tell me. I'm all ears for you, (y/n)." He smiled, sending you off.

The door's closed and you made your way home with the thoughts of whatever possible scenarios in that institution played in your mind.

Minhyuk turned around as he brushed back his blonde hair, revealing his forehead for a bit before the bangs covered it in one second.

"That beast." He scoffed.

<< PREV | NEXT >>