#anyway now they can be ~slaving collar buddies~

[pileofsith]

Nameless Part Six - Provocation Page 6/7

Jen: I have done nothing wrong, ever, in my life.

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[slowlyhardgoatee]

Face it, faggot. 

You lost. You are finally going to be legally recognised as a second- or maybe even third-class citizen of this country. And I’ll be right here ready to rape you with impunity when the new guy in the chair starts signing the paperwork to say so. All these years of equal rights this and Pride marches that… and look what it’s got you. Fucking look at yourself, faggot. On your knees, shackled to the floor by your ankles, collared, cuffed and with your useless cock caged - just as it should be. In fact, I’m gonna take a selfie to remember this as the exact moment that I took full Ownership of your faggot hole. There.

Now, I’m not saying I agree with everything he was saying he’s gonna do at all. I fully support women’s reproductive rights. I was fully on board to vote Democrat. But then she starts talking about advocating for the protection of gay rights - fuck that. Faggots are naturally inferior, and they should know it, and society should reflect that. And now, finally, society agrees. If it was up to me, it’d be illegal for faggots like you to even get hard, never mind married. That’s why I’ve got you wearing a cock cage. It’s never coming off. None of it is. You’re gonna spend the next four years in that collar and cuffs, faggot, begging fat old Republican men to rape your faggot cunt raw. Because this isn’t about repressed fag-hood- my buddies and I are all straight. But we absolutely love taking advantage of a cunt. We don’t discriminate. And we’ll be taking full advantage of yours, faggot. And it’ll all be legal. 

I know it’s technically a couple of months until inauguration day, but given I’ve already got you locked down - thank god for date rape drugs, huh? - you ain’t going anywhere anyway so as far as you’re concerned, he’s already in power. In fact, just to drive the point home, as of right now I’m gonna tune the TV to a 24/7 news channel, so you can watch your rights get taken away in real time. And every time you see his face on that screen, you’re gonna beg for my belt. You’re gonna beg me to inflict pain on you, and every time I do, you’re gonna thank me for it. Me and my buddies are gonna pass you around like a fucking joint at a frat party, faggot. And come inauguration day, well. 

On that morning my buddies will be over here early. They will all be horned up. There will be a fridge full of beer, and you will be kneeling right there, collared and cuffed. I’ll be clear, faggot, on that day, absolutely nothing will be off limits. They can piss on you and in you. They can whip you, belt you, slap you, use your butt cheeks and balls as an ashtray and even shit in your fucking mouth for all I care. I know at least one of my buddies actively voted for this guy, and I can tell you now he’s gonna have you following fucking orders to the letter. And if I know him well, he’ll have you doing the most degrading, humiliating, fucked up sex shit possible - and he’ll laugh at how fucking pathetic you are while you do it. He’s well into his sixties now, and last time I shared a faggot with him a couple of years back, he had it begging him to piss in its mouth. He laughed at the faggot while using it as a urinal, then after it swallowed his beer piss he bent it over his knee and had it screaming ‘Thank you Grandpa’ while he spanked its ass red raw. Faggot was eight hours into its eighteenth birthday at the time and it begged for every slap. Anyway, after we’d both spunked in its holes we just kicked it out onto the street in broad daylight, still naked. 

Now, we’re not gonna kick you out, obviously. But you can guarantee my buddies and I will be raping and breeding both your holes whenever we want. Fat, old, Republican cock is gonna rule your fucking life for the next four years, faggot. And there’ll be nothing you can do about it, you inferior fucking slave. You don’t get to say no to anything. You do as you’re told. Your body, our choice. Following orders is what you’re for, from now on. The only phrases allowed out of your faggot pig mouth are ‘Yes Sir’ and ‘Thank you Sir’ - that is when you’re not begging for my fucking belt. I can’t wait to spend the next four whole years destroying you mentally and destroying your twat physically while your rights get stripped away right in front of you on live TV. Speaking of which, I’m gonna turn the TV on, faggot. Get ready to scream for Sir’s belt whenever you see that guy’s face, you cunt. And while you’re doing that, remember this: you are now legally inferior to me and all other Real Men. No one is coming to help you. You have no phone - I destroyed it once the roofies took hold. You have no clothes - I set fire to them and then pissed on them to put it out. No one has the slightest idea where you are. And now you’re gonna spend the next four years suffering for the pleasure of fat old Republican men who voted against you receiving anything like equal rights. When you beg for pain, when you can barely walk after we’ve spent all weekend destroying that cunt of yours, I want you to remember your inferiority. Remember that people voted to make you inferior. It’s what you need. It’s what all faggots need. Control. Discipline. Servitude and suffering. What do you say, faggot? Eh? Yeah. That’s right. ‘Thank you SIR’. Good pig. 

[thunderheadfred]

💥Bakugou HC's💥

Aged-up pro hero Katsuki for all of these. Some NSFW beneath the cut. Minors do not interact.

- - - - -

General

He’s scary good at everything he tries. Every. Single. Fucking. Thing. It’s infuriating. Has zero patience when other people can’t immediately master a skill. Never let him teach you anything. Not that he’d offer, nerd.

He WILL offer, though. A lot. He can’t believe you still can’t Do That Thing. Tsh. Like THIS. You're gonna hurt yourself, Dummy.

But hold on. Of course you have unique skills of your own. You work hard to improve yourself. Trust me, he's the first person to notice. He doesn't praise anyone lightly, so when he raises his eyebrows and whispers he's impressed, your heart will go thermonuclear.

Perfect spelling and fully punctuated texts. Never uses abbreviations. Employs a grand total of four emojis, all of them angry faces. Constantly leaves you on read. He's busy, dammit.

Doesn’t smile or laugh in public (except sarcastically). His real smile is a crooked, fragile thing. Never make him feel self-conscious about it, or you might not see it again for weeks.

He does not talk about his private life to the press. Ever. Will K.O. rookie reporters who can't keep their big mouths shut.

HOweVER: he's intensely kind to his fans. There is a whole photographic sub-genre of little girls in cosplay hugging Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight like he's a Disney Princess.

Too smart for his own good. Emotionally hyper-vigilant. Overthinks every interaction to hell and back. Will act like he's not listening but actually hears every single word in a ten-block radius.

INSECURE AF. 110% convinced he will never be good enough. Terrified of his loved ones leaving him behind. Does he do anything to assuage his fears? Like... talk to anyone about it? Hell no. That would require admitting he has fears to begin with.

Seeing people upset makes him upset, especially if he doesn't know how to fix it.

The epitome of being mean because he cares. He genuinely does not seem to comprehend that monosyllabic grunts and lopsided shrugs are not actually that comforting.

Because he was such a brat growing up, he wants to make up for it now. Sort of. In his own way. Look, he's trying, okay?

He smells - so - good. Obscenely good. He doesn't wear cologne; are you joking? There's the burnt-sugar caramel candy smell of his quirk, for starters. And since he sweats deadly ammunition, he showers and wipes himself down almost constantly. He always smells clean. Like a fucking meadow.

Never got that growth spurt he was hoping for. He’s a short man - not even THAT short - but he has a Napoleon complex anyway. If you’re taller than him, the collars of your shirts will all be stretched out. He’s constantly dragging you down to his level. He will assert himself all the fucking time; the pissing contest is never-ending. Don’t wear tall shoes unless you want him to drag you around on a leash. If you’re shorter than him, that’s good. That’s very good. He likes that.

He’s an incredible cook, but everything he makes is a nuclear fire challenge. Adapt or starve.

- - - - -

Dating

Makes artisanal, nutritionally flawless bento lunches for both of you. When people assume his S.O. makes them, he gets fucking pissed. Damn right your co-workers are jealous of my cooking.

Your pet name is Dummy. Don’t like it? Fine. You can be dumbass.

There will be zero PDA in this relationship. His hands are shoved so deep in his pockets you can’t even try.

Intensely private with the press. But with his friends, he will brag about you nonstop. Bakugou Katsuki has the most talented and attractive and intelligent S.O., and anyone who doesn't recognize that is blind. Were you assholes even listening?

A mutual buddy definitely recorded one of these drunken brag-rants and sent it to you for safekeeping. Do not let Katsuki find out about it, unless you enjoy having an ash pile for a phone.

Gets jealous about everything, at least at the start. He calms down eventually. Kinda. He stops saying shit to you about it, anyway, because he learns to trust you. But anyone who so much as looks at you in a too-friendly manner will get the death stare of a lifetime.

He’ll throw all kinds of temper tantrums and the two of you will argue about every tiny fucking thing. He’ll scream out car windows, he’ll ball up his shirt and gnash on it. But he will never raise his voice at you. He’d rather die than make you feel unsafe.

Honestly, the constant bickering is really just... uhh... passionate communication. Eventually you both hash out the important things. You'll learn how to step around his landmines and actually make your points, and he'll learn to open up. A little.

Once you meet his mom, Katsuki starts to make a lot more sense. His family just... emotes like that. Eventually, you and his dad form a spousal support group consisting of exactly two lifetime members. He teaches you the Bakugou family semaphore you need to survive a long-term relationship.

Katsuki can dish it out but absolutely cannot take it. The only person who can level with him about serious issues without explosive fallout is his dad. Or, on a lucky day, Kirishima.

If you give him a legitimate criticism (even gently!) he will take it about as gracefully as a knife to the gut, because it confirms everything he hates about himself.

To your never-ending shock, you’ve made him cry. Yes, CRY! You monster! More than once! His lip gets all *trembly* and his eyes get all *watery* and all you want to do is hug him, but. No. He’ll storm out and wander around for a few hours before coming back with the problem perfectly solved.

He always takes your advice to heart. No, he will NOT talk about it, stop asking.

Gets mad if you don’t snuggle him on the regular. Will drag you into his lap with a pissy little grunt. There might be two seats on this couch but you will not be needing both of them.

Takes pictures of you while you sleep.

Takes even more pictures of you when you're awake but think he's out of the room.

He looks at all these pictures when he's away on high-stakes jobs. He gets all bleary eyed and sleeps in a salty puddle without you. NO ONE WILL EVER KNOW.

You don’t have to meet him at the door or anything, but when he says “I’m home,” you’d better answer fast. If he doesn’t know your precise location in 0.05 seconds, he will assume you’ve been kidnapped. He never checks the fridge for notes. Never assumes you've gone down to the konbini for a snack. No, it’s kidnapping every time.

A terrrrrrible bed partner. He goes to bed at senior citizen hours and will never fuck you after sundown. He snores SO loud. Runs hot and sweats through the sheets. Slaps and elbows you in his sleep and aggressively spoons you with his loud, sweaty body. You WILL want to suffocate him. Separate bedrooms aren’t such a horrible idea......

BUT HANG ON, because in the morning he transforms into an honest-to-god angel. He's half awake, his guard is non-existent. Morning Katsuki is a doting kissy-faced marshmallow man.

If you can wake up before the ass-crack of dawn, he will pamper the fuck out of you. You are royalty for one (1) hour only, and he is your bleary-eyed slave. You want a cuddlefuck? You got it. Hugs? Kisses? Take as many as you need. You want a perfect, fluffy, NON-SPICY omelette with a heart drawn in ketchup? Here it is, gorgeous.

Then he gets in the shower and the spell is broken.

- - - - -

💥bang BANG💥

Let’s get the obvious out of the way: this here is an ASS. MAN. He'll spank you with his quirk; doesn’t matter if you’ve been good or bad. Wants to see you wince when you sit down later.

Likes pounding you face down with a vice grip on your waist.

Unfortunately, even with all that said... he doesn't exactly have the feral beast sex drive you were expecting. He’s married to his work and has the fuddy-duddy habits of a once and future valedictorian. Only fucks you when he has the time and energy to fully dedicate himself to it.

But ohhhh. Shit. When it's time? It's TIME. The man will rush for nothing. Stamina for days. Making you cum as many times as possible is a point of pride. Yeah, you passed out once.

You’re gonna need those days off when he’s done with you.

That dick THICC.

Sends unsolicited dick pics. Only after you’ve been dating a good long while - he doesn't show that shit to just anyone. But yeah, don’t check your phone at work. He won't cum without you; those pictures and videos are time bombs. You better get home. Now.

Physically dominant as FUCK, but won’t verbally degrade you unless you ask. Well, let’s be honest. Unless you beg.

Praise him and reap the rewards. A long hard ego stroking will get him off more than touching his cock ever will.

Will grab your hair and fuck your throat. Will also stop immediately if you need him to.

The two of you have safe words and gestures. Even for vanilla stuff. He’s paranoid about scaring or hurting you. He insisted you both sign a color-coded ‘love contract’ that he meticulously formatted in a word processor. When you gave him guff about it, his blush was the darkest crimson you’d ever seen.

Coin-flip: he will sometimes be unbelievably gentle in bed. Doting and affectionate, taking perfect care of you. Like, it’s baffling. There’s no warning, the switch just flips. When you want him to be extra-rough and mean, he’ll sweetly worship you instead. For hours.

Bonus: he likes being penetrated. But of course he’s got a complex about that too. Super intense power bottom. You will never fuck him hard enough. He’d like to see you try. Hit his prostate just right and he might literally explode.

You'll live happily ever after but he will say he loves you out loud exactly once. Maybe. If you're lucky. And you're both about to die.

[energybetterpent]

Dog and pony show pt. 3

Miss, Ryan, and myself continued to play more and more. After my little accident in the rubber suit 7 months ago, Miss and Ryan took me to get “fixed” to avoid any further accidents. My dicklet was pierced 4 times, deep shaft, and one on the foreskin. My guiche is pierced and I have two dermals, one on each of my balls. I have spent the last two months in my permanent steel, custom device. Miss has bolt cutters in case we need to get it off. She had my keys melted down and turned into little figures for her alter, and some jewelry. All of this cost a pretty penny. I’m paying back miss and Ryan by doing shows with them online. Mostly Ryan. I’m their full time slave until my debt is repaid. I have a feeling I already paid it off and they’re not telling me; but at this point I’m totally fucked anyway, and know not to be sassy.

Ryan makes me ask permission to pee when I’m with him. Miss also picked up the habit. Last week miss caught me standing to pee, without permission and told Ryan about it. Since then I’ve had a tube screwed into the tip of my cage, and down my dicklet. It hurt at first but I got used to it. Miss didn’t want to risk hurting me but luckily Ryan was an expert. The metal tip is like the end of a sprayer on a hose, I make a little shower whenever I piss now. I have to sit, and sometimes even use my hand to deflect my urine down. I must also now ask to lick my hands clean.

Let’s just say we’re all pretty comfortable with one and other and happy in our roles. Or as happy as you can be in indefinite denial with a messy little clitty and two sadistic owners.

Today was Miss’ birthday. After a long day of gifts, oral, shopping, and treats for her, we all went out to a favorite bar. Ryan bought the first round of drinks and brought it back to the table.

“Cheers! Happy birthday!” We all clinked drinks and quickly got another round. Ryan handed Miss hers, then started towards me then jerked it back.

“What do you say?”

“Please, may I have my drink?”

“Louder. I know were in public; but this is going to be a new and better year for Miss. Louder.”

“Please, may I have my drink?”

“No, slave. Ask like you would at home.”

Miss’ eyes widened and she started to giggle. “Poor little slave, maybe this will help, hmm?” Miss slowly zipped down my fly and rubbed her middle finger on the tip of my cage. I felt it all the way down my bent shaft. Now be a good little slave for your Daddy and ask nicely.”

“Pretty please Daddy, may slave have a drink?”

“Good boy.” He handed it to me, smirking.

I took a sip from the straw.

“It has drugs in it slave. Tonight Miss and I want to do a CNC scene for her birthday. You’re going to be ok with that, yes? Suck it down if you consent.”

I dripped precum and my puppy eyes emerged, I finished the drink in seconds.

Darkness.

I woke up the sound of a large crowd cheering and shouting, I smelled paper, staleness. I felt the familiar sensation of being in a rubber suit, I was on all 4’s, I squirmed and came to realize I was attached to a surface or table, my wrists, ankles, knees, even my clitty cage was chained, I was collared, the chain was heavy, I had some movement but not much.

I awoke more. There was a paper bag over my head, and close footsteps.

Loudly, over the speakers… I’ll never forget…

“Welllllcome to the first annual DOG AND PONY SHOW everyone! If you know how you got here, thank you for attending or entering your puppy, slave, gimp, sissy, doll, pushover boyfriend, or person you blackmail! Just kidding of course… ANYHOW. Lets feast our eyes on the first contestant!” The bag was removed, and there was nothing but lights and movement.

“FROG: Entered by His Miss and Daddy!”

A photo of my drivers license appeared 8x8 feet big on a projector behind me. I started to cry.

“Ooh the first tears of the evening folks, its ok buddy, you won’t be embarrassed for much longer. Hood!” The announcer snaps his fingers and the prettiest sissy I’ve ever seen, complete with D cup breast implants, and a nearly invisible clitty walks up to me in her bedazzled g string and pigtails and matching pasties and heels. She bends over and comically boops the coaster sized rubber base of whatever was filling her ass on my nose, wiped my salty cheeks, finger fed me the tears, then gagged, hooded, and muzzled me, once again, darkness. They went down the row of a dozen or so participants in this manner. Once we were all hooded, the rules were explained.

I felt a strange hand on my ass, it traced it, started to finger it a little, squeezed my balls and the owner of a hand let out a big grunt.

“Mmmphh. I want thiss’n” Members from the audience each picked one of us, got a strap on, or held a dildo and began to lube up our assholes.

“Were going to start with something easy…” the announcer said. I felt what was a rubber version of a 6 inch or so penis slide into me, I was used to this, I started to relax and enjoy the sensation. The only way I had any relief now was anal milkings. Subdued, even blissful in my horny, subby state, my mind wandered back to earlier that night…

“DOG AND PONY SHOW” kept ringing around in my head…

The next dildo was bigger, then bigger, three or so subs tapped out. Losers were used as urinals, given free tattoos, piercings, or forced to engage in breath play with strangers for the rest of the night.

This one felt weird. It was big, awkward, a little rigid, unfamiliar, I groaned.

“DOG LEVEL 1. AND WERE ALREADY DOWN 5! WHO WILL MAKE IT TO THE FINALS?”

“This is disgusting” I thought to myself. Strangers using dog shaped dildos on me? Where is Miss? This is agony, its so dark, its all I can focus on..”

Ryan and Miss were having the time of their life in the crowd.

“Oh my god he hates it. But he can’t stop leaking, like… look at him. This is gonna fuck him up a little.” Ryan said to Miss.

“He’ll be ok. Slave knows I get so wet when he’s patient, in the darkness, and suffering for me. This is the perfect present Ryan, thank you. Such a quirky event. They don’t really go all the way up to pony… do they?”

“Uh yes. See the gays? Were hardcore. Plus look at little puppy boy over there with the paw tattoos and all of that. You know he’s ready to accommodate livestock. Let’s just hope Frog likes how pee tastes, or gets some decent tattoos. Let me get you another drink girl. Happy Birthday.”

[gold-and-rubies]

I’m Not an Angel, Baby - Chapter 6

Bridget’s POV.

“Hey Julie,” Bridget greeted.

“Welcome,” she smiled, “I heard about how you were able to negotiate a truce between the Kings and the NCR. You have no idea how great of a help that is. What can I do for you?”

“Heh, it wasn’t that big of a deal. Just trying to do the right thing. Anyway, I was wondering if you have any work that needs to be done.”

“There is always work that needs to be done, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to pay you in caps. We might be able to spare some stimpaks, though.”

“Well, what needs to be done?”

“A few souls here in Freeside could be great assets to the community, if they’d kick their addictions,” she explained.

“Who are they?”

“Old Bill Honte and Jacob Hoff… They’re not going to kick their habits on their own.”

“Where can I find them?”

“In Freeside, the drunks and drug addicts flock in and around the Atomic Wrangler. I’d start there.”

She nodded, “Alright, I’ll see what we can do.”

“Sobering them up and putting them back to work would go a long way towards helping Freeside, so please, do what you can.”

Bridget ducked out of the tent Julie had been sitting in. She had to blink a few times to let her eyes adjust to the lack of shade.

Her companions were waiting for her by the gates to the Old Mormon Fort. Boone looked a bit uncomfortable. She did not blame him. The beret made him stand out like a sore thumb. Veronica was messing around with Ed-E. The thing had become like a pet to her, or well, pet project. And Cass… well, she did not know her well enough to get a good read on her.

“And?” Boone asked as she walked up. At least he was straight to the point.

“There are some addicts she wants us to talk into getting clean. Payment won’t be in caps, though. It’ll be stims.”

“But don’t you need the caps?” Cass asked.

“Yeah, but stims are stims. It’ll be saving us money in the long run, besides everything’s here in Freeside. Don’t really have much to lose other than time,” she argued.

“Fine,” Boone frowned.

“Actually, now that I think about it, how about you and Cass stay at the Wrangler. Veronica and I can handle it,” she said. Though she liked them, her companions were not exactly the best with people, especially Boone. She doubted they would want help from a scary looking ex-First Recon sniper, and Cass did not exactly have a gentle hand from what she had seen.

Cass cocked an eyebrow at her, “You sure?”

“Yeah. I mean, right now you’re not getting much out of this, and Boone could probably use a break.”

“And you don’t?” Veronica asked.

“I’m the one who dragged you all out here, aren’t I?” she argued back.

“Yeah.”

“Then go. We’ve got this.”

Boone and Cass shared a look, and she said, “We’ll be at the Wrangler then.”

They headed to the street that the Atomic Wrangler sat on together, but split once they got to the door.

“So where do we start?” Veronica asked.

“The ruins?”

“Alright.”

They poked around the ruins, asking anyone they deemed not blackout drunk or high if they knew the two people they were looking for. They tried asking the guard at the door if he knew anything. He denied. Bridget doubted he told the truth. The fact they found Bill Ronte in the building across the street.

She spotted the man through holes in the wall of the building. She felt sympathy as she looked at him. He was clearly strung out on something. She was surprised no one tried to get him help earlier.

“Excuse me,” she addressed him, “Do you know Bill Ronte or Jacob Hoff?”

“Yeah, I’m Bill. Dixon send you? He said he’d be back today,” he said.

“No,” she knelt so she was on the same level as him, “Julie Farkas sent me to help you sober up.”

“Julie? Oh, I love Julie. She’s such a nice lady,” she could hear the pain in his voice, “One time, I was working on the water pump and she came over, put her hand on my shoulder, and told me I was doing a great job. Great Job she says! I just choked up and didn’t say nothing. Compliments are so rare these days.”

She tried to pick her words carefully, and spoke gently, “Then why don’t you stop drinking for her?”

“Drop drinking?” he exclaimed, “I’ve been drinking for a straight month! Listen, I’ve tried to stop, but the withdrawal symptoms are so bad I feel like I’m going to die. I can’t stop now.”

“Who’s selling to you?”

“Dixon. He sells me booze dirt cheap. It does the job, but it tastes like paint thinner and I feel like I’m going to die if I stop drinking for a day. I swear that guy is trying to kill me, but what can I do? Drinking other booze doesn’t cure the sickness.”

“Where is he normally?” she asked as softly as she could. She did not want to scare him off.

“Outside of Mick and Ralph’s shop.”

“Thank you.”

She stood, and walked out of the ruins. She waited until they were near the criers to talk to Veronica.

“That poor man. He seems so nice. Not many people come off like that.”

“I’m more focused on how you handled that. I had no idea you could act that kind, and sympathetic.”

“Honestly, I didn’t either.”

Veronica stopped walking, “What?”

“What?”

“How do you not know something like that?”

“I haven’t told you why I’m confronting Benny exactly, have I?” she sighed, “He attacked me. Robbed me, shot me in the head execution style, and left me for dead. Don’t know how I survived.”

She pushed her dark hair from her temple, revealing the scar Benny gave her, “That’s where this came from. Can’t remember anything before the shot really. Just muscle memory and skills. I want to know why he did it to me… when I said I came from Goodsprings I guess I really meant their graveyard.”

“Oh. Oh my god, I am so sorry. I understand why you want to get to Benny now. I’d probably act the same way. I’ve got your back.”

“Thanks. I’d rather focus on the task at hand right now, though. If you don’t mind?”

“Of course! Let’s go kick this asshole’s butt.”

They wove their way through the streets of Freeside until they got to Mick and Ralph’s shop. There was a man leaning on the ways, smoking. Bridget approached him, fighting to keep herself calm.

“Dixon?”

“Looking for a fix, man? I got what you need.”

She winced at the smell of his breath. It was like something had died in his mouth.

“Do you know anything about Bill or Jacob?” she asked, trying not to sound too disgusted.

“Yeah, man,” he laughed, “Those cats are out of their domes addicted to my shit. They can’t get enough. Pretty hilarious to watch.

She felt a wave of disgust for a whole new reason, “I need you to stop selling to them.”

He smirked, “Really? Aw, you’re such a saint. You know what? I might if there is something in it for me.”

“Yeah, you’re head. Though there is a truce, tensions between the NCR and the people here are still pretty damn high, and it seems to me like Bill and Jacob are well liked. Wonder what a rumor about the NCR supplying you with cheap chems to kill people off would do?”

She was not fond of playing the tough, threatening type, but she was not playing in this case. This guy needed good ass kicking, or maybe worse. She would not judge.

“Alright, alright, I won’t sell to them anymore. You have my word.”

“You’d better not,” she spat, “Now, where’s Jacob?”

“Over there,” he gestured with his chin across the street.

She gave him a final glare, before she dove into the ruins. There was a dead body lying in the rubble along the right side of the building. There was something around his neck.

“Is… is that a collar?” Veronica whispered.

“Looks like it. Poor guy probably died trying to get it off,” she sighed. She wondered who put it there. She knew the Legion did that to their slaves, but his clothes looked too nice. She tried not to think about it.

They continued looking through the building until they found a man leaning against one of the ruined walls.

“Jacob Hoff?” Bridget asked.

“Yeah? You have chems, buddy? I could really use a fix.”

Bridget frowned. He was just as bad as Bill.

“No. Julie Farkas sent me. Said you could use some help.”

“Julie is a saint, but I don’t need help. I feel young and strong, as long as I get my chems.”

She knelt again, not wanting to appear threatening, “You don’t look great, Jacob. You need to stop using.”

He laughed, “Why stop? I feel great! No worries. My guy will be here soon enough, just wait.”

“He won’t be supplying you anymore.”

“What?” he exclaimed, “I need a fix now!”

“I want you to get better,” she said. She meant it.

“Fine. If you care so much, then get me some shots of fixer. I’ll need at least ten to get me through the week. Then the Followers can help.”

She shook her head, “No. You don’t need that. You are strong, and the Followers are more than willing to help you.”

He sighed, “Alright. I’ll head over there now.”

She stood ready to offer support if he needed it. He pushed himself up until he was standing. They helped him get to the gates of the fort, and then headed off to go get Bill. He had a far better reaction to being told that Dixon was no longer going to support him. He thanked them deeply, and they said their goodbyes. They checked in with Julie and they were on their way.

When they got back to the Atomic Wrangler Boone and Cass were sitting at a table in front of the stage. A bottle of whiskey sat between them.

“Hey guys,” Cass greeted, “Things go well?”

“Yeah,” Bridget smiled, “Have a nice night off?”

“Yeah. Boone struck it rich.”

“What?” she and Veronica said in unison.

“Played a game of blackjack and won… how many caps?”

“Enough to get us all on the strip,” he said flatly.

“Didn’t even really bet that much!”

“Well, damn. Looks like we know what we’re doing tomorrow,” she replied.

Cass handed her the bottle, “To whatever the hell you’re planning.”

Bridget grabbed it, and drank. The next day was going to be one hell of a ride.

[robinsdoghouseofwhump]

Feathers & Fangs Part 3/3

Ok yall! We reached the finale for this part of the story. @whumping-every-day, this has been a wild ride! And I'm mega excited to see your installments with Shirael! (My headcanon is that Shirael is Gabe's guardian angel) Anyways, this part of the story is more focused on Shirael and my angel OC than on Arron, but thats what makes it fun. Enjoy some Gayngels and please ask questions and give critique! It makes my day when I see comments or asks in my box.

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It was a long way of a flight, even for an angel, but they were here. 

"W-where are we sir?" The demon looked out from the balcony overlooking the large city below. So many people, so many buildings, it was bright, and loud. He could smell the scent of salty ocean water, and evergreen trees dotted the landscape. A strange white tower stood prominently in the nicest areas of the bustling urban area. 

"We're here to see a friend of mine, and you're gonna meet him." 

More angels? God, they were gonna do something awful to him. He clung to the angel tightly as he walked in the door.

"Abel! Where are you?" 

Shirael could sense the other angel’s presence, but that was about it. He hadn’t seen Abel since the Fall… but the Principality had always been fond of strays. Shirael had looked down on him for it, before. But this demon, curled up so small and frightened in his arms, was starting to change his mind. 

“Who’s there?” Abel is in human form when he rounds the corner, and his eyes widen when he sees Shirael. “Wha--” He gapes for a long moment, eyes flickering between Shirael and the demon boy, before he snaps a quick salute. “General? Is that - is that you?” 

General. The title rubs Shirael wrong, makes his top pair of wings shuffle uncomfortably. “Just Shirael, now,” he answers. Abel had left, and Shirael had fallen, and Heaven was in shambles - there were no armies left for him to lead. 

“What is this?” The words may have been accusatory, but in this case they were only curious as Abel stepped forward, peering at the trembling demon child. 

"I…. I don't know. I found him in a house and-" Shirael was cut off

"His wings…." Abel frowned and ran a few fingers along his scarred back, earning a flinch and subsequent quivers in response. "Shirael, this is awful." 

"I know, I found him chained up in a mortal household, he has scars everywhere, and he can't even lift himself. I know we… had our differences before, but I couldn't just leave him there. I figured that…" 

"I could take him in?" Abel frowned at his former commander, of course he would come find him about something like this! His reckless behavior was always getting them in-

A soft whine escaped the demon's sore throat, which caught the Principality's attention. "Mm sorry sirs… p-please, I c-can be good!" 

Sirs? What did they do to this creature? A torrent of emotions were radiating off of the boy, sadness, anger, but most of all, a deep seeded sense of alertness and fear. That's probably how Shirael found him. He was good at that at least, finding emotion in others. But he still wasn't sure about this.

"I think I can, he can stay in Micheal''s old room. Do you have anything I could use to find out more about him?” 

Shirael couldn’t help but hold the boy a bit closer at his pleas, hushing him softly as Abel spoke. 

“I know where to find the humans that took him.” Outwardly Shirael’s voice was calm, but to anyone who knew him, the simmering rage was just below the surface. He looked down at the boy in his arms, and he frowned slightly, his eyes picking up something new. There were scars and a ring of sore flesh around the demon’s throat, almost like he’d been… collared. They’d collared him. 

“Abel, I think these humans are keeping demons as pets.” It sounded… horrendous. Once he’d said it out loud, the words sat heavy in the air, like they couldn’t possibly be true. But the demon’s scars, and his wings - his poor wings. The submissive behavior, and the lack of struggling, even when Shirael had picked him up and flown away with him. 

"Sir, you haven't been on earth for long have you?" Abel couldn't help but roll his eyes in his head. "Slavery isn't exactly a new concept here, especially with demons." 

“No,” Shirael agreed. “Not with demons. Or humans, either. But this…” Maybe he had been gone for too long. Maybe Shirael had gotten too lost in the divine. The last time he’d been to earth, humans had still been sacrificing members of their own species to demons in hopes of earning good crops that year. Now humans were keeping demons as slaves? 

"I agree, it's barbaric. I wish I could fix it but I'm not exactly at my most righteous form." Abel got up and went to the bathroom to grab the first aid kit, those bruises and cuts on the boy needed to be healed quickly. 

"Ok buddy, can you look at me?" It was directed to Arron, and the demon slowly and shakily looked up at the tall man. "Good boy, now can you lay down for me so I can get a good look at you?" The boy shot up immediately and layed on the carpeted floor with total submission in his eyes. 

"This might hurt a bit bud, don't worry, it'll only be for a second." The alcohol swabs were pressed against his neck and shoulders gently.

Shirael had taken a step back once he’d released the demon, but the angel found himself retreating even more as Abel took over. How things had changed during his time in Heaven. This demon had not only been enslaved, but he had been successfully trained into obedience - something that Shirael would have sworn was impossible, before. 

"Well, how are you? How's heaven been?" Abel tended to the boy and got him patched up to the best of his ability. "Haven't seen you in millennia." Abel looked up at the general with icy eyes as he picked the demon up gently and held him in his arms. (oof, abel is salty. xD)

“Heaven is in shambles,” Shirael answered flatly. The elder angel scrubs a hand across his face, and the exhaustion in his eyes is an ancient thing. He let out a gusty sigh, and with it all of the tension he’d been carrying. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, without looking at Abel or the demon. “I stayed behind when you left, and it… it didn’t go well. Our brothers and sisters turned on each other like rabid dogs after the Fall. There is… nothing left. Or I assume so. I was one of the last to leave.” One of the last to try and keep their broken family together. Sometimes Shirael wondered if maybe Abel had had the right idea; he had certainly gained nothing by staying. 

"Hmm, well I can't say I don't miss everyone. Father is still as angry as ever I bet though." Abel carries the boy to the room as Shirael follows. "I missed you a lot though." 

The demon seems mostly unresponsive as Abel carries him, and for the moment, Shirael is content to allow it. 

“Father was furious,” he agreed. “Right till the end.” Shirael trails after Abel to the room, which he can only assume is the spare. “And… yes. I did miss you. I-” Shirael has to cut himself off there, because he knows it wouldn’t help. Finishing that thought now, after all this time, wouldn’t help. “I missed you,” he repeats. 

Abel laid the demon down on the soft bed and pulled the covers over, he took one last look at the boy. "I'll be right back ok? Don't worry, you're safe here." And with that, he led Shirael out of the room.

"You have no idea," Abel smiled and wrapped his arms around Shirael with a swift and firm hug. "I'm sorry I left, I just… just couldn't stay there any longer." 

Abel relaxed against his ex lover's touch, allowing his obsidian black wings to appear and his jagged halo to form above his head. "And I couldn't let you stay in love with a Fallen."

Shirael had never been meant to love. But he still melted into Abel’s embrace like he’d been starved for it. His own wings responded to Abel’s and the broad middle pair flared out around them both, cocooning them in a glow of soft light. 

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, just one more time. “Heaven was a lost cause from the very beginning. I should have-” Shirael cut himself off again. No. Saying what he should have done wouldn’t help either. “Staying was a fool’s errand,” he murmurs instead. 

"I understand, I shouldn't have fought with you before I left. And I didn't want you to give up everything you had either."

Silence.

 I...I" Abel started to cry softly in the larger man's arms. "I love you Shirael, you mean the world to me." Sniffel "I'm glad you came back to see me, even if it was for something else." 

Shirael balked just a little at the words. Love… he had never been very good at that. Even when it had been true. 

“Abel…” It’s not confirmation, but Shirael only holds him tighter, feeling the guilt and the hurt pressing down on him. “I don’t think I can… just pick back up where we left off. And I still have to-” he paused, frowning. “The human world is strange to me. And it has been… so long.” He shook his head. 

"Thats ok," Abel smiles up at him, "I'd love to show you around sometime, but I want you to go explore and do what you do best, help people."

“I helped people by exterminating their enemies, Abel.” Shirael is rueful, and there’s exhaustion, but also a smile in his eyes. But he sobers as he speaks again. “Do you think there’s still a place for that?” He knows, Shirael remembers, suddenly. He knows where to find the humans who had done this to the little demon boy. 

"I'm sure there is, but you know how much I hated that." Abel let go of him and stepped out of the winged embrace. "I want you to do good for people, like you just did. You saved a boy from a horrible place. I want you to control your emotions better, then I think I'll be ready for you." 

Shirael hesitated, and the space against his front where Abel had just been felt cold. “I remember,” he murmured. Abel had always hated the violence and death that Shirael had wrought in heaven’s name. Several millennia was a long time, even for angels. “But I want you to know that emotions were not the problem. It was duty, Abel. But heaven is gone now, and Father is… who knows where.” Shirael shakes his head. "I think… we both need time.” His brow creases in a frown. “Wrath has tired me.” He looked back down to Abel, and a faint smile crosses his lips. “It was nice to see you again, love.” 

"You too, please visit again soon ok?" Abel smiled as Shirael walked back towards the balcony, admiring the elder angel’s speckled white and cream feathers. And in a moment of impulse, Abel quickly gave the man a peck on the cheek, earning the sight of very blushy Shirael.

“I’ll - um. I’ll come back and see you.” It’s a promise, heavy in the way he says it, and the two of them share one more awkward, lingering smile before Shirael crouches and flares his wings out. “Take care of the boy, okay?” Shirael holds Abel’s gaze for another split second, before he’s leaping into the air with a mighty flurry of wingbeats. 

It doesn’t take his powerful wings to carry him out of sight, and Shirael’s heart lingers back with Abel, even as the distance stretches between them. 

[mass-effect-galaxy]

Joan’s Song 3: Torfan

“Execute the prisoners, we are leaving.” Sergeant Bartholemew was staring at Commander Joan Shepard, bewildered. “Ma’am?”. “What is it, Sergeant?” “Ma’am, those are POWs. How can we execute them?”. Shepard could feel tears coming up. ‘Don’t lose your nerves now, stay focused. You are an N7′. She drew her pistol and gunned down the one batarian kneeling closest to her. “I think, that’s the way it is done. Now get to it, Sergeant.” Bartholemew opened and closed his mouth like a fish on dry land. Shepard turned around and grabbed the much taller man by his collar. “Listen, Sam, I am going to get us out of here. But only if you do as I say. So, if you wanna see your daughters again, shoot those animals so we can be away before we get overrun by a goddam fucking army of them.”

This was worse than Akuze or Elysium. This mission just had gone completely south and Shepard had to run for her life. But Major Kyle was going to pay for it. 

Yesterday morning, Shepard and Major Kyle had been in the CIC of the SSV Sadowa. A holographic Admiral Hackett was patched in via QEC. They were studying a 3D-map of Tofan. Torfan was a moon and served as a major hub for batarian slave-trade galaxy-wide. A prime target for Alliance retaliation after Elysium. The problem was, the batarians knew that too and had it heavily fortified. Batteries of surface-to-orbit cannons made an orbital bombardment impossible. A bombardment was problematical anyways because it was unknown how many human slaves were on Torfan. And while it was possible to land troops on the dark side of this moon, surface access was denied by automated sentry turrets, lots of them.

Kyle had completed his sitrep outlining these problems. “Any ideas?”, Hackett asked. “Yes, Sirs, if you allow.” Shepard had been working on her plan the whole night while she heard that Kyle, in the cabin next door, was watching a broadcasting of “The Beauty and the Beasts” from Tuchanka’s Radioactive Hall. ‘That’s why you are still a major at an age I will be an admiral’, she had thought. “We use a Troian Horse: The military port is heavily guarded, but the animals keep security not that tight on the cargo-port supplying the settlement. We use a freighter to sneak in, gain control and hack into their network from the port’s tower. That way we disable the turrets, roll in with IFVs, take control of the compound, free our slaves and turn Torfan into smoking crater afterward.” “Oldest trick in human history.”, Kyle said scoffingly. “The animals won’t know it”, replied Shepard. “So, you gonna play Ulysses or what?”  “And drunk delight of battle with my peers, far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.” Shepard was surprised by herself that she still knew that line by heart. “Enough!”, Hackett interrupted them. “I like it. Commander, what do you need?” “A volus freighter, thirty commandos, and a hacker, Sir.”

The resources of the Alliance were nearly limitless, and it didn’t surprise Shepard that Admiral Hackett was able to produce a volus freighter with proper clearance for Torfan as well as thirty N-grade marines within a few hours. She wasn’t prepared for the ‘hacker’, though. A freckled woman reported in as ‘Lieutenant Jan Schaeffer’. “Reporting in”, probably didn’t really cut it: Schaeffer was chewing gums and didn’t even pretend to shape up for a superior officer. Red hair, green eyes, both colors obviously artificial. The right arm showed a tattoo with a red hood and two crossed guns, ancient gunpowder pistols; possibly a gang-tag. On the other arm, she had a turian and an asari kissing. Whatever that meant to her. If someone like that made it to lieutenant, she must be extremely good at whatever she does. Shepard felt her pulse going up and her mouth drying out. “So, where are you from, Schaeffer?” “Buenos Aires.” “Really? Never met anyone from there.” Shepard felt like a babbling teenager the moment she said it. Schaeffer shrugged, “You sure had been working hard on that. We must be 30 million by now.” ‘No, forget it, Joan. She is Alliance, she is taboo.’

The operation went as planned. Shepard’s team landed on the cargo port, emerged from the volus’ freighter, and gained control of the port’s tower. No casualties on the Alliance’s side. In fact, the team was so swift that no alarm was sounded. Lieutenant Schaeffer immediately went to work with the batarians’ network. “Any problems?”, Shepard wanted to know.  “From those animals? Bah. Okay, I am in. You can start the party, Shepard.” “Strike Team to Fleet. Do you copy?” “We read you, Strike Team.” That was Admiral Hackett himself. “We are in control of the port. Enemy defenses are down.” “Good work, Commander. Ground Team, begin your approach.” “Copy that”, that one came from Major Kyle in command of the IFVs.

“Now, all we have to do is waiting for the bus.” Shepard carefully touched Jan’s shoulder. This lieutenant’s aura of strength, confidence, and violence seriously attracted Shepard. ‘Be honest, it turns you on’, she scolded herself. A little touch couldn’t hurt. At this moment the lieutenant shouted, “Son of a bitch!”. Shepard thought that was about her and immediately drew away her hand. But Schaeffer was staring at her monitors. “What’s wrong?”, Shepard demanded to know. “Someone is countering me. Erecting additional firewalls. Seems like that asshole is making me work for my money.” Strangely, still no alarms. Shepard checked the tactical screen. The IFVs were advancing; but somewhat slower than she had expected. She thought of sending a warning to Kyle, but maybe it was nothing and there was no need to spread around problems on her side of the mission. 

Minutes passed. Shepard started pacing up and down the room while the lieutenant was typing and clicking at an incredible speed. Suddenly Chief Mark Landerzoo, the team's sniper, rushed through the door. “Commander, the volus is taking off.” “What?” “Guys, please!”, that one came from Schaeffer. Shepard grabbed the chief by his arm and pulled him out into the open. She closed the door to the tower behind them. Outside, she could see it: the freighter was starting, gained speed and disappeared into the sky. And then the alarms went on. ‘Now the animals know we are here’  

“Shepard!” That was Jan. Shepard returned into the tower, “What’s going on?” “I am losing this one. It’s the fanciest piece of shit code I have ever seen.” Shepard had no idea of computers and hacking. “A batarian hacker? Don’t tell me one of the animals is beating you to it.” “Hell, no! It’s automated, a guardian program. Maybe collector-tec or geth. Dunno. But you better call your buddy: those turrets are about to go online again.” Shepard checked her tactical screen: Kyle already had passed half of the perimeter. If the remaining turrets did go online it would be a rough ride for him, but doable. Masses of red dots were moving from the compound in Kyle’s direction. Batarian ground troops. Strangely, no one came in Shepard’s direction. The animals still were not aware of her presence at the cargo port. She had a plan.

“Strike Team to Ground Team, do you copy?”Shepard could already hear the pop-pop-pop of the rockets both in the distance as well as over the comm when Major Kyle answered. “Ground Team here. We are taking heavy casualties! What’s going on there, Shepard?” “The batarians have regained control of the turrets. You have to fight your way through. Enemy ground-forces are advancing on your position. If you keep pushing forward I can hit their rear and crush them.” Silence, then, “Negative on that, commander. I have to retreat.” “Are you crazy, Kyle? We are trapped here.” “Fleet to Ground Team”, this was Admiral Hackett, “retreat denied. Keep on advancing, no matter the costs.” “Admiral, we are getting slaughtered out here! All units fall back!” Shepard couldn’t believe her ears. “What the hell are you doing, Kyle?” “Just making sure my unit survives. I am sorry, Shepard, I had to make a choice.” “You’re gonna regret this thing, Major.”, Shepard hissed before turning off the comm.

“Sucker! At least, the animals are now all after his sorry ass.”, said Jan. “hmm”, Shepard was breeding on the next plan. Having been first in her class in Infantry Tactics was going to pay off. “You said, they use a program to block you off? It must be running on some kind of server, or?” Schaeffer got it, “Yeah, probably in that compound. If you can get me there, I can disable it.” “Lieutenant!”, Shepard thundered, “you are with the Alliance Marines! We do not ‘disable’ this kind of shit, we blow it up!” “Ma’am, yes, Ma’am”, replied Schaeffer grinning while clapping on the Tempest SMG at her hip. “You might need a bigger gun than that. Seriously, LT.” “Don’t worry, Shepard, I have killed my first man with a pee-shooter like that when you still had wet dreams featuring your teacher.” Shepard felt that she was about to blush and turned away. Not only was Jan right with that teacher cliche, but she also realized that Jan obviously saw her as a spoiled princess that had inherited the shoulder bars from mommy and daddy. This was more embarrassing than hurting ‘But how wrong is she really? You have to be better than the rest, tougher than the rest, harder than the rest to show them that you have earned your place.’ Shepard left the tower and ordered Landerzoo to gather the team. Then her eyes fell on Sergeant Bartholomew guarding the eight batarians they had caught pants down when attacking the space-port.

Her team was no standing unit but a random selection of elite-classed marines. Shepard didn’t know most of them. By chance, Shepard and Schaeffer were the only women as well as the only officers. “The IFVs won’t be coming, so we are stuck here. And as you can see”, Shepard made a gesture towards the dead batarian POWs, “surrendering is not an option on this moon. We still got our mission and we are going to complete it: Free the slaves and destroy this base. For now, the animals are ignorant of our presence, but that will change as soon as we start our attack. So, move fast, strike hard, and make today be remembered as the day Death came to Torfan.” Corporal Ramirez saluted shouting “Who’s like us?” Shepard returned the salute, “damn few; and they’re all dead.”   

They had to pass through the settlement in order to reach the compound. Random shots were fired at them as soon as they moved between the containers that formed the housings of the batarians. This was no organized resistance but armed civilians. Maybe the females of the batarian soldiers. Difficult to tell with those animals. Shepard wanted to keep the enemy that disorganized: there were four paths leading to the compound, so she split her team into four columns, each for one path. This worked: even though all four columns were constantly under fire, they outnumbered the enemy in every encounter. The left flank column under Chief Schmitt had the longest route to the compound and also was the one to get in contact with the batarian regulars first, once they returned from chasing after Kyle. And meanwhile, they would be aware of what was going on in their back. Shepard made that column and the one next to it the strongest with the task of delaying the batarians as much as possible. Shepard’s own team on the far right had the shortest route to the compound. It was composed of herself, Schaeffer, Landerzoo, and Bartholemew. To their left was Sergeant Pitt with six men. This meant the marines would be hitting the compound with ten men. Tactical scans showed no more than fifty armed people inside. Odds even.

Shepard’s team had a rather easy approach. But when rounding a corner, she literally run into three batarians. There was no room for her rifle, not even time to extract the omniblade. Her adrenaline rush kicked in. She doge under the first one grabbed him by his collar and belt, got up again to lever him over her shoulder and threw him on the second one. This gave room to extract the omniblade which she rammed into one of the four eyes of the last batarian still on his feet. Meanwhile, Bartholemew had shot the second batarian who was just about to crawl out under his comrade. That comrade now was finished by Shepard when she smashed her boot into his face. ‘Stand in my way and you’ll be crushed under my heal. I mean it.’  “Shepard, you sure you’re human and not krogan?” asked Schaeffer. “Wanna see my quad, LT?” Grinning back Schaeffer showed a line of perfectly white teeth.

The compound was composed of three round bunkers that formed the entrance to some kind of underground ant-farm. Each one had two rocket-turrets mounted on its roof. Their arrangement, however, was bad, insofar as the closest bunker was blocking the line-of-fire of the other two in Shepard’s direction. The animals hadn’t expected anyone attacking from the settlement. “I got this one”, said Chief Landerzoo and grabbed the M-98 Anti-Material Rifle from his back. Pitt’s team meanwhile had arrived, but he had lost two men, reducing Shepard’s assault force to eight. She checked her tactical screen: Schmitt was under attack by the batarian ground forces. But the animals believed the Alliance troops to be much larger than they were and acted accordingly cautious. 

Landerzoo had readied his AMR and switched on the cloaking device of his suit: 2,000 micro-cameras made him nearly invisible and blocked thermal readings. Both were highly proto-typed and Shepard had never seen this tec in action. He sneaked out of cover, invisible to the turrets. Shepard could only vaguely guess his silhouette when he went prone ahead of the bunker. The sniper fired and the first turret was blown apart by the big piece of metal fired from the M-98. The shot, however, immediately caused the rifle to overheat. This, in return, caused the cloak to collapse. Landerzoo was lying in the plain open with a non-functional gun. The second turret turned around. “Shit”, this one came from Shepard and Schaeffer simultaneously. Shepard started running while Landerzoo tried to roll away. The turret’s targeting VI had correctly calculated Landerzoo’s movement and the first shot obliterated him. ‘A stupid idea’, thought Shepard, ‘the turret will get you all the same. At least, it will be quick.’ But its next shots went wide: Schaeffer and Bartholemew had been shooting from their cover at the turret, now Pitt’s men provided covering-fire as well. The turret’s VI considered several firing opponents a higher threat than one running target. 

When Shepard had reached the M-98, the rifle had completed its cooling-down cycle. She went prone and pulled the trigger without much aiming. The aiming assistance did its job. The recoil was painful though. Modern infantry weapons didn’t have it, but the M-98 used a tiny mass effect explosion to accelerate 250 grams of metal close to the speed of light. “Ground Team to Fleet. Do you copy? The enemy defenses are about to go offline again in short. We need an immediate evac then.” “We read you, Commander. Standing by.” It was comforting to hear Hackett's voice again. To Shepard, it was as if he was watching over them. Time to withdraw the flanking column as well. “Schmitt, come in. What’s your status? Fall back to the compound.” “Negative, Commander. We are boxed in. Down to nine men. We keep the animals busy as long as possible. Buying your time.” “I see... Thank you, Frank.” Shepard had come to Torfan with 30 good men. All but seven were dead. And for what?

Schaeffer had hacked the door to the bunker. Deep-scans showed that the main server was under this bunker. At least they didn’t have to fight through kilometers of ducts and tunnels. A few guards were gunned down without problems. There was one outstanding issue, though. Sergeant Bartholemew brought it up while they took the elevator down to the level where the server would be. “What about the slaves?”. According to thermal readings, there must have been nearly 300 persons inside the compound. Most of them confined in an area ten floors below the second bunker. Those would have been the humans. “I am sorry”, said Shepard, “this place will be overrun in a few minutes. We can’t do anything for them. They were dead the moment the animals caught them.” “Shit”, was the only thing Schaeffer said. Shepard had noticed that the lieutenant had become rather silent since they had entered the bunker. ‘Time to get you out of here, love.’

“This is it?” They had reached the server-level. A large room, full of servers from different sources, salarian, human, asari, and a huge transparent round device in the middle of them. “Yeah, I’d say all those serves do nothing but running a cooling system for that piece of shit”, Schaeffer was pointing at the bowl. “So, overload them and the entire system would go to hell. I’d rather be far away when this happens, though.” “Do it, Jan.” She started overloading the servers with her omnitool. This caused a new alarm to go on, and, with that, five batarians appearing on a balcony at the far end of the room. They started firing.

Schaeffer went down with a groaning. Shepard immediately dropped on her and covered the lieutenant with her body. While all marines returned fire, it seemed that the batarians were only shooting at Schaeffer. Shepard’s shields quickly collapsed and metal splinters cut her armor and the flesh of her back at hypervelocity. She didn’t feel it, but Shepard’s back now looked as if she had been whipped. With the batarians finally dead, Shepard rolled the lieutenant on her back. Jan was bleeding from several wounds in her chest. Red bubbles were forming on her lips as she exhaled. Her lungs were hit, Jan was dying. Shepard held her hand. Jan was looking up at her. Frightened. “You are the most beautiful krogan I have ever seen.”, she suddenly said. Shepard smiled, warm, fighting tears, “And you are the hottest nerd I have ever met.” Jan tried to laugh but instead coughed blood on Shepard’s armor. “Look, I have ruined your armor.” “I would like to see you clean it” Jan touched Shepard’s cheek with a bloodstained hand, “in another universe maybe, Joan”, she said with fainting voice. Her arm dropped and then Jan was dead. With trembling fingers, Shepard removed Lieutenant Jan Schaeffer’s dog tags. Sergeant Bartholomew gently touched Shepard’s shoulder. “Commander, I have medigel for your back, but we have to go.” 

Back in the elevator, Bartholomew used medigel for Shepard’s wounds. Shepard didn’t notice it. She was absent as if she was watching the scene from afar. Pitt was saying something to her. She nodded without listening. When they left the elevator, they saw a human girl trying to shove entrails back into a dead batarian. Shepard wasn’t able to process what she was seeing. She said to no one in particular, “Grab the girl.” When they were outside, the compound shook with an enormous explosion. Minutes later the sky was filled with Alliance fighter. A single shuttle was sufficient to evacuate Shepard’s team.

Admiral Hackett knew Joan Shepard since the day she was born. Seeing her like this hurt him. She had Jan’s blood on her chest and in her face. Her back was ragged. That blood was her own’s. There was batarian blood on her right boot too. Joan used to wear her hair in an accurate bun. However, two thick strands were hanging down her right cheek, bloodstained. She was pale and her blue-gray eyes were cold as ice. 'I have turned John Shepard’s wonderful daughter into a demon.’, Hackett thought. “Where’s Kyle?”, she demanded to know. ‘She is dead!’ Shepard could hear her own voice screaming in the back of her head. Admiral Hackett had made sure this debriefing was held in private. “Relieved of his command. He obviously is suffering from PTSD. Unfit for duty. He won’t be in command of anything else.” “No.” Shepard simply said, ‘I want her back’, the voice screamed. “Joan, you know how it works. Killing him won’t bring the others back. Just destroy everything you had been fighting for.” “There were three hundred humans in that bunker! I killed them! Why?” ‘I loved her so’ Then she couldn’t hold back and burst out in tears. Hackett held her.

“What have we got?” The Illusive Man wanted to know. Miranda Lawson was patched in from Torfan. “The Alliance was very thorough, but I think we can recover enough code fragments from the turrets for a partial reconstruction. You were right, it doesn’t look like anything familiar from this galaxy.” “Good. This is now Project Hannibal. You are in charge, Miranda.” 

Epilogue Citadel

Ambassador Udina: “Well, what about Shepard...”

[osmw1]

Poison-Wielding Fugitive   Chapter 16

What should I do about this? Should I wash it first? And then disinfect it… with poison? Veno? Do you know how to make laundry detergent? I know how to make soap, but will that do? I’m not gonna destroy it if I don’t wash it a certain way, will I?

‘Calm down. After doing that, check your status. Another option has appeared.’

Huh? Being told to, I check my status. … oh? There’s a skill named Call Fungus. Was it there before I got back to the inn?

‘It was there when you finished hunting and were returning home this afternoon.’

I don’t want to dig deeper and ask when he checked my status, but it was already there then? Call Fungus… to take it literally, I would summon a mushroom? … hmm? There’s another layer to that menu. The second option is Call. As soon as I activate it, it blips, and yet another option pops up. At the same time, my moldy robe starts… squirming around. One of the mushrooms growing on it starts to expand.

“Whoa?!”

I shrieked out unconsciously and I back away from my robe. Come on, that’s scary. What’s seemingly like just a shiitake is plumping up.

A monster? Did I just find a parasitic monster on my robe? And now that it’s been found, the mushroom is showing its true form and gonna attack me? Before long, the mushroom that was on my robe grew to the height of where my hip is. Its cap is at an angle and its stem is slightly bent backwards. Blinking in surprise, I feel like our eyes met.

“Muu!”

It raises one of the slight protrusions from its stem—its hands?—to greet me. I gotta take a closer look at this thing. It’s got two big round eyes attached to its stem portion with a cartoonish mouth underneath them. And below that are its hands, one from either side… at the base of it are two feet-like protuberances. It has another mouth on its cap and from it a tongue sticks out. Its outward experience is both cute and gross at the same time…

‘Myconid or fungus is what one would call this monster.’

Veno explains it to me. Hmm…? Fungus? Its name is –… it’s blank.

‘It is because it is a servant you have summoned, is it not? Look, it shows on your status screen.’

“Huh?” “Muu?”

– Mutated Myconid Fungus Level 1 Acquired skills: Spore Scatter, Self-Regeneration, Stamina Recovery Rate Increase (Weak)

I can thoroughly check its status, but the part where the name should be is just a dash. Is it alright that no name’s been registered?

“Jump.” “Muu.”

I commanded it to jump and it did.

“Spin around three times and make a sound.” “Mu… mu!”

The mushroom splendidly twirled around and called out. Yup… there’s no doubt about whether or not he’s following my orders.

“Why is this mushroom getting tamed by me?”

In an MMORPG, you’d have to tame a monster for them to be your pet. Others might use a different word, but I like “taming.” It’s affectionate.

‘It is likely due to the influences of Hunting Sense. Or perhaps it one of the fruits of your labor, your training as a Poison-Wielder.’

You’re saying it’s not due to our Spirit Link?

‘It is not so that I am unable to create subordinates of my own, but it would be difficult for me to do so in my current state. I do not even have the mana to do so.’ “Muu!”

The mushroom points at the robe of which where he grew from, at me, the compounding machine, and at the direction of the swamp. Then after that, he points vaguely behind me… hey, cut that shit out. Are you trying to saying there are spirits here?

‘Is it not so that he is pointing at me?’ “Muu.”

It nodded in agreement and bowed to Veno. It can hear him?!

“Muu muu.” ‘Aye, indeed… somehow, the spores drifting in the air in the swamp clung on to the robe… the combination of the poison you release, the toxin of the swamp, and the miasma, along with the mixing of pharmaceuticals, and my powers all got mixed together, giving life to this mutated being. And now, it wishes you to be its master as you are the one who had sublimated it. That is my guess at what it wishes to say.’ “Muu!”

The mushroom nods in agreement at what Veno had said. Still, this is a lot to take in.

“So, what you’re saying… umm, the spores that were stuck onto the robe interacted with stuff like my poison and suddenly mutated… and the result is that it wants to follow me?” “Muu muu!”

If you keep nodding that hard, your head might come off loose. More importantly… I don’t get what the mushroom saying at all.

‘Even with my Seal of Solomon, it is not translating its words. It was no more than from its body language that I got my understanding.’ “Muu.”

Aren’t you a little too good at guessing? It’s probably because you’re both monsters, right?

‘Were you not wishing for comrades? Here is your chance, is it not? This solves at least one of our problems.’

You’re not wrong… but is it really okay? To take a monster into our group so casually? And not only that, how do people treat monsters working under them in this world?

“Am I to simply summon it when no one’s around?” ‘There exists a tool for this. A collar is used on low-ranking monsters or slaves by their masters. To imitate that, we could use a belt instead to signify that it is no threat to others. We can always buy the proper collar and have it wear it at a later date.’

You don’t have one on hand, Veno?

‘I do have one back at my lair. Unfortunately, I have none with me at the moment.’

Mm…

‘How about trying to craft a belt out of tanned hide? Aye, do it yourself.’

Alright, alright. Because of that, I cut the leather with my sword and shaped it into a belt. I tie it around the mushroom’s… waist? The part between its hand-like protrusions and its feet.

“Mu!”

The mushroom seems happy. But some time later, I should switch it out for a master-servant relationship-signifying collar, right?

‘For the mean time… that would be right. You should claim it to be a homunculus made through magic and pharmaceutics. Cohgray of the Swamps.’

Was it better to use my nickname there? What sort of position am I in right now?

‘Well, now… we must face the situation at hand. What shall you do about this creature’s name? It is necessary part of the process.’ “Hmm…”

While gazing at the mushroom hopping around for joy, I ponder on a name for it.

“Since it’s always crying out ‘Muu muu,’ how’s Muu?”

Honestly, it’s a total chore to think of a name. At least it’s better than names like Kinoko, or Matango, or Eringi.

‘That is considerably an awful list of names… and to say that it is the best of all of them…’ “Muu!”

It seems happy to be named Muu. There’s a certain charm to it, don’tcha think? Anyway, it’s not good to only telepathically speak to Veno.

“We’ll treat Muu like a fellow party member, but Veno, do you know what its growth is like? “Mu?” ‘I was just checking on that. It seems like it possesses both monster and human traits.’ “Ah, between Mutated Myconid and Fungus?” ‘That is correct. Normally, the former should be its race, but it is now its profession. As well, contradicting that, Fungus is also its profession. I have yet to come to a complete understanding.’

Two classes… or maybe not? Would it be right to call him a mushroom person? It’d probably be easier to confirm that just by levelling it up.

“Mu!”

Muu’s showing me his fighting spirit by shadowboxing. Oh, maybe it’s like that. It’s instinctual for him to battle.

‘Perhaps it is trying to say that it wishes to be the vanguard.’ “Is that right… well, that’d definitely help me out a lot, but will you be okay?” “Mu!”

Well, for now, we should go hunt to try and see. What kind of weapon would be good for it?

‘As it is still level 1, it would be fine for him to use your old sword, like a hand-me-down.’

Although I still carry it around, I only use it in case of emergency as a personal defense weapon. Since I have my crossbow now. If I’m in a pickle, I can use Poison Release and throw venom at the enemy. I give Muu the Flyiron sword. I don’t really understand how Muu holds a sword, but he does, and he swings it around a little.

“Mu…”

He doesn’t seem too satisfied with it. Maybe swords aren’t appropriate for mushrooms?

‘It is uneasy due to the sword being so light. However, the sword is rather sharp. If you wish for a heavy weapon, gain a few levels and prove your might.’ “Mu!”

Its right hand swished in the air and landed at his head to salute me. I wonder where he learned that. He’s less than complete happy about it… but oh, well. With that, I head to the swamp again. I leave my room and the inn, but not before passing by the front desk.

“Oh?”

Unsurprisingly, the proprietress fixates her sight on Muu who’s behind me.

“Ahh, that’s my underling who I created with medicine and magic. I believe you’ll be seeing it more from now on. If it’s better for you, I can borrow a shed to put it in.” “Mu!”

Muu bows to the proprietress. “Wow, how well-behaved. You’re well-versed in alchemy too, hey, Cohgray of the Swamps?”

The proprietress who gave me that nickname speaks with admiration. Ahh, she thinks I’m remarkable with only that much.

“No wonder you don’t need any adventuring allies with you. I see, I see.”

No, actually, I really would like some buddies. People to share the good times and the bad. You know, all I have right now are a my way or the highway dragon who can’t read the mood but yet I talk to in my head and, as well, a mystery of a mushroom. It’s hollow and I get real sad over it, okay?

‘The truth comes out. Nay, it comes pouring out. How terrible of you. It is not that I wish to be involved with you. Anyway, regardless of that you are a spineless coward, you are still awful.’

Gah… I have no comebacks for that.

“I’mma head out to try this new underling out!” “Alrighty. Take care out there. When you get back, I’d like for him to stay in the shed.” “Understood.” “Mu!”

Muu innocently gets close up to the proprietress and gives her the ol’ puppy eyes.

“U-Umm…?”

He tilts over to her to be patted on the cap. The proprietress timidly touches and pets it on the cap.

“Muu… muuuu… muuuuu.” “Oh, what a cutie. You’re a good boy, aren’t you? If you don’t get the room dirty… oh, what should we do about you?”

It’s nice to be cute. Muu’s acting cute enough for her to question her decision to have it stay in the shed.

“Just to try it out, I’ll… give permission for him to stay in your room. But be tidy, okay?!” “Muu!”

Muu bows to thank her. Oh, you’re good. This is what you call a pet, huh?

“O-Okay, we’ll head out now.” “Get home safe. Be careful out there… if anything comes up, call for me with this here bell and I’ll come help you.”

You, uhh, don’t look so good, you know? You’ve got a stubborn cold. With her permission, we set out for the swamp.

By the way, this happens some time later, but Muu begins to help out the proprietress with stuff like wood-splitting and cleaning. It seems like she’s taken quite a liking to Muu. Thanks to that, Muu’s boarding fee is only 500 lag, making the grand total 2,000 lag per day. She’s clever to charge per head and so our expenses increase too. I’ve got some qualms about that, but since she’s letting us stay for so cheap, I can’t really complain.

previously: /ch001/ /ch002/ /ch003/ /ch004/ /ch005/ /ch006/ /ch007/ /ch008/ /ch009/ /ch010/ /ch011/ /ch012/ /ch013/ /ch014/ /ch015/ /ch016/ /next/ (full list of translated chapters) (discussion thread) (support me on Patreon or Paypal)

[lady-luck-courier]

Baby sitting

Re-posting this because tumblr hecked up the formatting, but this is one of my first fanfiction writings I am ever publishing and my first NV piece! Inspired by @nuclear-reactions amazing reactions I hope you enjoy!

I had faced everything the Mojave has to throw at me

I have faced a quarry full of deathclaws

I have sent ghouls into space on pre-war rocket ships

I have traveled to kill my attacker and ended up seducing him

I have been a peace keeper and an assassin

I brought Caesar's legion to their knees at the second battle of the hoover dam

I even found a goddamn sex bot to get onto the strip

But this, this is the hardest challenge I will ever have to face.

The little bundle in my arms shifted again, my heart was pounding as I hurried through freeside, a rifle strapped to my back, a pistol on my hip, and a diaper bag over my shoulder. I got a few strange looks from the residents, a few thugs eyed the soft quilt piled in my arms as if to get a better view of what was swaddled inside. I went as fast as I dared to without jostling the precious cargo in my arms.

I kicked the door open to the lucky 38, trying to remember who I’d seen this morning and who i’d sent on supply runs and who was still home. Arcade was still home.

“ARCADE” I screamed as the elevator doors slid open

I heard a crash one room over, Arcade rushed to see what the cause of my panic tone was, he was still holding his coffee mug, sloshing the liquid around, his glasses askew and his shirt untucked

“Six!? What’s the matter? Where’s the injury” his eyes flew over my face, completely missing the bundle in my arms

“Nothing Arcade, but look what I found!”

I gently unwrapped the blankets, a round baby's face appeared in a state of peaceful dream. Arcades eyebrows shot so far up his face I feared they would fly off

“A baby. Six, where the hell did you find a baby?”

“Well”

*

There was only one thing I hated more deathclaws, and that was the legion. And the legion hated me more ever since I threw a wrench into their plans. So when I went out into the wastes on a solo scaving mission just outside of south vegas I was on high alert for any attacks they might send out. Geralt city was one of the smaller towns more often passed over but caravanners have been saying there was a small lake full of fresh radiation free water and nature was slowly taking a foot hold once again, so I saw no harm in checking it out. Dawn was just breaking, the perfect time between the ferals slinking back into the darkness and when the weather was only in the double digits. I slunk in between the shadows and broken walls, coming across some scrap metals and a few drained energy cells.

I thankfully I saw the legionnaires before they saw me. They stood in the town square, four of them in total surrounding a caged cart. I crept out further and eavesdropped

“What should we do with the cripple?”

He whacked the side of the cage and I could see the small frame of someone wince inside

“Kill her right now?” one suggested

“No, let’s sell her for a discount. If not, well we can keep her for some personal entertainment”

They chuckled  

It made me sick hearing them refer to a person as a piece of meat. I unslung my hunting rifle and peered down the sight right at the first ones head, the one who suggested keeping her for entertainment

He dropped like a sack of flour. All the others heads whipped around trying to find the source

“Hello boys!” I stood up and waved to them “Remember me?”

They yelled and charged at the girl with a high powered hunting rifle with spears and swords, and they wonder how I’ve been picking them off so easily.

I looted bodies for the control for the collars around their slaves necks and picked the lock off the cage. Two women, a man and a child were inside. One of the women walked with the aid of a crutch

I helped her out of the cart and she studied my face with wide eyes

“Who are you?” She asked “NCR? Brotherhood?”

“Courier” I answered holding out my hand “Six”

She pulled me into a hug and sobbed thanking me before limping off following the others, it occured to me they were a family. I watched them until they became small spots on the horizon. Right before I left that cart forever I heard a baby cry.

*

Arcades jaw hung open

“Yeah” I said “I need to get the others, Arcade, hold her”

He jumped and flinched back as if the suggestion sucker punched him

“Me? No!”

“Acrade” I asked my eyebrow arching “Are you afraid of the baby?”

“Not afraid! Just terrified of dropping the little thing, you know their skulls aren't fully developed and-”

“So you never held a baby before in all the years you worked with the followers?”

“No, I mean- I know how to hold one but-”

I pushed her into his arms, he immediately locked up and stared at the infant

“Now i’m going to get everyone else, i’ll be back soon” I said sharply turning back to the elevator

“Six. Six? Six, please don't leave me with the-” the elevator doors slid shut cutting him off

*

I came back an hour later with everyone in tow, when the doors slid open we all saw a stiff Arcade trying to shush the now awake and crying baby, it looks like he hasn’t moved from where I left him this morning

“Thank god” He sighed “She just started crying, please help”

The poor guy looked like he craved death and the babies face was red and snot and tears trailed down her face. Everyone rushed out and started to crowd around the baby, effectively making her cry harder.

“Can I try something?”

Everyone's head snapped towards Boone. Arcade sighed in relief and quickly pawned her off into his arms. Boone carefully took her and gently tucked her head under his chin and held her against his chest, supporting her head and neck with his hand he breathed in slowly through his nose. She quieted down immediately. You could feel the shock radiate off everyone in the room. I stared at him wide eyed

“Where’d you learn that Boone?” I asked

He took a moment to respond, gently swaying back and forth

“When Carla told me, I tried to get my hands on every parenting book I could find, some were more helpful than others but I figured if I knew what to expect it wouldn’t be so terrifying”

It was a little strange to see him be so delicate with something, and as the baby started to babble softly everyone caught a glimpse of Boone’s rare smile.

“What’s her name anyway?” Arcade asked

“I-” I stopped “I have no clue, not like she had a name tag or anything.”

Everyone looked around as if for an answer

“Kelly” Boone said “Lets call her kelly”

No one argued   

*

Kelly was kept quite against the snipers chest, until a smell started to permeate through the living room.

“Smells like...shit” I wrinkled my nose

“Bingo” Raul said “Change it boss”

“I dunno how” I replied “Does anyone?”

Silence fell across the living room

“I got it boss, but I can only do it if Boone lets her go”

Raul held his hands out and Boone grudgingly gave up the infant

“You got a diaper bag?”

“Yep!” I hefted the bag up and let it slap against my side

“Good, come with me you’re gonna help me out”

I trailed behind Raul into one of the spare bedrooms and watched him work

“Wow Raul, seems like you got some experience with this” I commented handing him a clean diaper

“Well, I had a big family and they liked dumping their bawling bundles of joy onto us so they could get some rest, so I got good at this pretty quick. I didn’t mind though” His rotted digits secured the safety pin, Kelly giggled happily and grabbed Rauls fingers.  Big eyes looked at him with absolute trust and innocence, she shook his hand back and forth and smiled. I thought I saw a tear or two leak out of his eye.

“Raul, buddy, you okay?” I asked placing a hand on his shoulder

He sniffed “I’m great”

*

Veronica was great with kids, or so she kept insisting. So when Boone left Kelly with me and Raul to shower veronica saw her opportunity. Kelly was happily smacking one of the forks against the floor, giggling when it got stuck in the carpet. Babies were weird. Veronica crept up behind her    

“Veronica” I asked, her hands froze halfway to the kellys stomach “What are you doing?”

She only winked and started to tickle Kelly’s side.

She began to shriek and cry

“Oh dear” Raul muttered before returning to his tinkering

“Ver, I really don't think kelly likes that” I said

“No, the kids at the brotherhood loved me, I just-”

She tried to gather the screaming bundle in her arms to bounce her and blew raspberries on her cheek.  

Kelly screamed louder

As if his “baby-is-crying” sense was tingling, or he heard kelly screeching, Boone marched into the living room and swept kelly away glaring daggers at Veronica

Veronica sat in shock and hurt

“But...Kids love me, I was the cool aunt”

“Ver, I think kelly is just a little young for the roughhousing” I patted her shoulder reassuringly. She feel back against the carpet and covered her eyes with her arm, defeated

*

ED-E hovered around the makeshift crib Raul constructed for Kelly, Listening to her babble and playing the sounds back to her make her giggle and coo as we all tried to come up with a plan for taking care of her. The two seemed as if they were studying each other, ED-E gently poked at Kelly with his antennas and kelly in return grabbed at them and tried to stick them in her mouth. His victory anthem make Kelly shierk with joy for some reason and she loved sticking the barrel of the laser rifle in her mouth (the only way she would release it was the when his danger warning played). Three times I had to make Boone sit down and keep him from dismantling ED-E, promising that ED-E wasn't going to hurt Kelly. I looked at all the people at the table, a patch work of broken and beaten people, and I felt a warmth swell in my chest over the obvious concern they had for this little baby that was dropped in our lap.

“So, Kelly will be staying with us for the foreseeable future?” I asked lacing my fingers and resting my chin atop them, all of them nodded in unison. I smiled lightly and turned to look out the window, showing an orange colored sky. For a moment it felt a little bit of innocent, pure, unfiltered hope returned to all of us. Maybe the world wasn’t such a hellscape after all, and there was hope.  

[chester-glass-blog]

A Light That Never Goes Out || Demon Cat

@jamespsulley

Summary: In which Sulley says enough is enough. 

A/N: shoutout to sam for this para yes i named it after a smiths song but look look look. Honestly, he did such a beautiful job and I just wanna like hype this para up because the ending is so GOOD it really is so good and i just feel proud to be a part of it. Thanks so much buddy for all you’ve done for the last leg of Chester’s wild, wacky, hilarious, tragic arc. It’s more than I could have ever imagined on my own. 

SULLEY: Whether Sulley actually liked it or not- and he didn’t for the record- Chester had more or less free reign on when he came and went from Sulley’s apartment. Even if he locked the door and closed the windows, he’d turn away for a second and when he’d turn back Chester would be there.  There was no escaping it- Sulley had learned that escaping it wasn’t the way to go about it.

From everything that he had seen- not to mention all the things that he had done on Chester’s behalf- he figured that confrontation was the way to go. If he wanted to put an end to this ‘deal’ he would have to go about it himself. It wasn’t just going to dissolve on a whim. At least not without something grave happening.

So the next time Chester rolled around- in the briefest moment of silence there was before he launched into another rambling, Sulley looked over at him. His gaze met the amulet around the man’s neck and his jaw clenched.

“I’m done.” He started. Funny that, starting at the end. “I want out of this.”

CHESTER: Chester’s plan was spinning on all gears, moving rapidly toward the climax. He could feel the thrusting momentum himself as he watched his pieces tick on, what was started never to be stopped. With Milla scared and jumpy, it would only be a matter of time before she wielded her powers for the sake of her fear. And Swynlake would feel the effects. He wouldn’t have to do anything.

But of course he planned to. It was good to have insurance and that’s what Sulley was for Chester Glass these days. He’d send Sulley to another member of the Council-- perhaps the Sheriff himself to stir him up. Imagine if Russell woke up to hear his baby crying, to find a demon’s claws curled over little Isabel’s body…

Chester was going to bring his plan to Sulley tonight. He slipped in easily enough, like he always did, the amulet hidden under his shirt. Only the gold chain glinted in the lights as he turned around, mouth opening--

And then Sulley got himself a spine.

“I’m done,” said the teddy-bear-of-a-demon. “I want out of this.”

Chester’s lips fell immediately into a purse-- until he pulled the drawstrings. And then slowly he smiled at Sulley, slowly he chuckled and then giggled and then laughed outright.

“Oh-- oh that’s just too good!” Chester laughed. “That’s cute, my friend, so cute. Glad you got that out of your system hmm?” His eyes twinkled, then he waved his hand. “Now let’s move onto actual business, not just your silly jokes.”

SULLEY:

“No- I’m not joking. I’m done.” Sulley repeated- louder, harsher this time. Not a question or a request, but a statement. A demand. He could already feel his blood beginning to boil.

Chester just had this way of angering him like no one else did. Maybe it had something to do with his complete disregard for Sulley’s desires. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he was holding his amulet hostage. Maybe it had something to do with how quickly he disregarded the severity of things, as if it was all a game to him. Even if it wasn’t, it felt like it.

Sulley was sick of it. Every time he scared reminded him of what he had been trying to leave behind, and did nothing to help him move forwards towards the person he was trying to become. If anything it set him a couple steps back, yet again blurring the line between human and demon. What kind of good was he supposed to be if under the cover of darkness he was no better than the monsters every child was told to fear? This wasn’t the human life he wanted to be living, frankly, it was hardly a human life at all. And the only reason he was still living like this was because of Chester.

He took a step towards Chester, his chest tight, his mouvements steady. He wasn’t afraid of him- no, that wasn’t how this worked. But that wasn’t to say that what he was capable of doing didn’t worry him. “I don’t want to be a part of your plan anymore. I’m not going to be a part of your plan anymore.”

CHESTER: Chester giggled again. It was so cute when the demon tried to scare him with his threatening tone. Look at Sulley, putting his foot down. Look at him, pouting and scrunching up his brow! What a big boy he was growing up to be.

But Chester was still the one in charge here. He was not like the Mundus who quaked in their books/converse/heels etc. at the sight of Sulley’s massive, hulking demon. He saw the demon and only got excited, as he saw the possibilities strung out for him. And even if Sulley wanted to bare his teeth, what else was he going to do?

So Chester slipped his hand underneath his collar and drew out the amulet, so it glinted in the light. To remind him.

“Oh, is that so? Does that mean I should smash this on the ground and send you back to whatever cesspit you crawled out of?” he teased. “Or perhaps I could turn you in myself. What about that, Sulley, my fuzzy little friend? Who are the police going to believe-- another s-s-scared, st-stu-stuttering v-victim-- or a demon?”

SULLEY: The amulet- there was still matter of the amulet. It was the stupid thing that had gotten him into this mess in the first place. Had he just been wearing it all the time, had he suspected the worst from the human world, had he been wary and not trusted the human world like he should have- then he’d still have it safely around his neck. His own incompetence had gotten him to this point. Served him right, he supposed.

He wouldn’t make that mistake again. Reasoning hadn’t worked the first time, and it hadn’t gotten him very far after that. So as much as he wanted to stay civil- to work this out like a human- it just wasn’t going to work. He flicked his gaze up from where it had been drawn, back to Chester’s face. Even in times like these he couldn’t seem to take a damn thing seriously. It was all a game to him- a joke.

“If you smash that amulet, you’re not going to get rid of me.” He challenged. The taste of what he was about to suggest was bitter in his mouth. “The only thing you’re going to do is get rid of the only thing stopping me from killing you right here. If you smash it, I have nothing left to lose.”

CHESTER: Chester scoffed. “How dumb do you think I am? I hope the answer is ‘not very,’ seeing as I captured and enslaved you in the first place.”

Honestly. It’s like he didn’t think at all.

Because Chester was no expert at demonology but he’d read books. He knew that there were many ways that a demon could tie itself to a human host and that fancy amulets certainly were one of them. There was also no doubt in his mind that Sulley’s amulet was very important to him since he had thus far did Chester’s bidding without so much as a peep of disobedience. Oh sure, he was very grumpy about it, but what slave /enjoyed/ being enslaved? Not many.

“This amulet, I’d guess, is the only reason why you’re here. I smash it, and poof-- you disappear. Sad for me because I’ll have to find another victim for my dastardly deeds but mostly sad for you, ol chap,” he said. “We both know you are the one with everything to lose.”

SULLEY:

He-

He didn’t care anymore. What good was the human world if he was in it to live like a monster anyway? What good was he if he couldn’t stick up for himself? What good was he if he wasn’t good?

“You’re right.” He conceded “You’re right. I am the one with everything to lose. So do it.” He took a step towards Chester. “Smash the amulet.” and then another “Send me back to Hell or wherever it is monsters like you think I come from.” and then another, quickly bridging the space between them. “Because the human world- the one I’ve seen and the one you’ve shown me- isn’t one that I want to live in. I won’t be free once I’m gone, but I’m not free here either.”

Sulley took a step back- this was already a confrontation but he didn’t need it to look like one. As much as the idea of going out in what could be called ‘a blaze of glory’ was an attractive one- that wasn’t the kind of human that he was. It wasn’t the kind of human he had been so far. He let his hands slip into his pockets and his head hang low. Defeat- that’s what it was. Defeat.

“Just do it- I don’t care.  But if you don’t, know that I won’t be helping you anymore. And that there’s nothing you can do that’ll make me work for you again.”

CHESTER: Chester thought his demon-slave-slash-best-friend would give in. He figured-- why wouldn’t he? The human world was a marvelous place. There were blueberry pies, chocolate spreads, parades, music, dancing, laughter, sex, noise, and a little bit of murder here and there to keep things interesting. What wasn’t to like about such a list, such a world, which was miraculous and monstrous all at the same time? With no rhyme or reason, and only chaos, such a world could be whatever a person wanted it to be.

Chester was proving just that.

For a moment, he hesitated. He did. Something in his wild, toothy grin grew softer, and his lips closed. Sulley looked so impossibly sad right now, like a teddy bear who was no longer hugged anymore-- forgotten, maybe, in a closet. Under the bed.

Chester thought about hugging him. Chester thought about giving the amulet back. He could always find his fun, his sprinkle of murder, elsewhere. Sulley did not need to-- go.

But Chester had foresight. He did. And as much as he had adored Sulley and his work, the part that he’d played, well, if Chester was a benevolent master and let him go free, Sulley could march down to the police and reveal everything. Chester could play the victim act but it was impossibly complicated.

Maybe it was best for Sulley to go home.

So when Chester smiled again, it was a kind expression. “As you wish, my friend. Safe journey.” And then Chester tugged the chain. It broke with a tiny snap, and with a wild, happy hoot, Chester Glass smashed the amulet on the ground.

The room filled up with red light.

SULLEY:

There was silence and Sulley didn’t dare to look up. Not at Chester and his grin, not at the closet to his side or the window just beyond his shoulder. There were only two outcomes to this, but he knew deep inside of him that really only one was possible. It felt almost fitting in a way. As someone who had so often complained that humans just didn’t know when to quit, Sulley seemed to be impossibly good at sealing his own fate. He supposed that maybe it was just the human in him. Of all things it would be that, surely.

“As you wish, my friend. Safe journey.” Chester said.

Sulley felt the snap of the chain- not in the air, but inside of him.  There was a moment of regret- where he remembered all of the things he would no longer experience, all of the people he would never meet, the places he would never see.

And then there was light.

[During his time observing from the Underworld, he had seen a lot of very different celebrations. But they all seemed to have one thing in common.

Lights.

Human loved lights. Whether it was colourful blinking lights, big lights that shot up into the night sky before exploding into thousands of tiny streams, the great light from burning logs or small lights on sticks carried around by hoards of people. Humans loved lights and rightfully so. Sulley wholeheartedly agreed that lights were pretty great.]

This light was not one of defeat. It was not one of the great funeral pyres that lit up the faces of the mourning- it was not the candles held in late night vigils, or placed upon tombstones- it was not one of death or abandon.

It was the great fireworks that shot up into the sky- it was the neon signs that flashed on every street corner- it was the bedside lamps that stayed on well into the night- it was one of celebration.

Sulley was celebrating life.

His beautiful, brief and impossible life.

And that red light glowed fiercely. Sulley felt it inside of him, as it moved outwards. Soon it was everywhere- it was everything.

He was light.

And then suddenly he wasn’t. There was dark. He was gone.

[smut-camren]

The Hand That Feeds // chapter 4

original story http://archiveofourown.org/works/3673911/chapters/8142474 ———————————————

“Where were you?” Michael glared.

Lauren turned around to see purple angry eyes glaring at her. She wrapped her arms around her trench coat. Michael walked farther into the foyer. As he drew closer, he begun to tower over Lauren with his large stature. His height had done little to startle Lauren as it had done to many humans and most demons.

“I went out.” Lauren answered.

Lauren fought to give a resentful stare back as it would do no good, but to have her dad scold her through the night if he could. Michael never cared what Lauren did, or where she went, but it had changed three days after her birthday. He became more intrusive and authoritative.

“You went to that club again didn’t you?” Michael huffed.

“Yes dad, I did.” Lauren snapped. “If you already knew why would you ask?”

“I wanted to make sure that foul human of yours wasn’t lying to me.” Michael rebutted.

Lauren remained a calm exterior, while her mind ran into a flurry of fear for Lucy’s safety. Michael had no respect or care for humans. He only tolerated the ones in his house because they carried out his daily routines. He wasn’t going to get his hands dirty in trying to cut a lawn and tend to the flowers in the yard. He most definitely wasn’t going to clean his own house or cook his own meals.

“Did you -”

“I didn’t lay a finger on her.” Michael answered. “I can’t stand that she lives on the same floor as us and how she follows you everywhere, but I’ll leave you to treat her how you see fit.”

A wave of relief washed through Lauren. Michael came closer, letting out a snort of frustration. The beastly appearance to his features much clearer. He had black veins around his skin that contrasted immensely with his pale purple flesh, elongated black pointed nails, two small horns protruding from his forehead, stretched out sharp teeth, topped with pointed ears, and those haunting menacing purple eyes.

Michael was one of the top hideous half-breeds, but Lauren was sure with his appearance he didn’t qualify as a half-breed, but rather an alternation of his former human self. He had qualities of a demon; the snarling, growling, roaring, brute strength, and temperament of a demon. That would make him just a shell of his old form. It was the perks given to a man that had been the cause of the New World Order.

This gave him a large enough title to have anyone and anything fear him. Michael let out a rugged snort as his face scrunched up with distaste to the topic of their conversation.

“That isn’t the point Lauren!” Michael insisted. “What I will not stand for is your childish behavior. I told you to stop your nonsense the day after your birthday. You have bigger responsibilities now!”

Lauren let out a heavy sigh. She didn’t want to have this conversation, let alone an argument with her father after such an enjoyable night with Camila.

“I’m aware.” Lauren agreed. “I know what I have to do and that will come. I just wanted some fun before everything changes later on.”

Michael became more at ease. The puff in his chest disappeared and the low hum of his growling ceased. He looked Lauren over, questioning her statement.

“You know my intentions are just good.” Michael stated. “I only want the best for you.”

“I know.” Lauren responded.

“I’m having guests over in two days for brunch.” Michael announced. “I expect you to be here and dressed presentably for their arrival.”

“Of course daddy,” Lauren smiled.

Pleased with her response, Michael walked away with no further complaints. Lauren quietly rushed up the stairs to her bedroom on the second floor where Lucy sat upon her bed for her arrival. She had heard the entire argument downstairs.

“Mistress?” Lucy asked.

Lauren sat down next to Lucy who  held her while she silently cried.

***

“Hey!!” Dinah shouted, snapping her fingers in front of Camila.

She blinked several times before she spotted Dinah’s hand and blankly stared into her face. The lack of a reaction startled Dinah. She put her hand down and leaned closer over the table.

“You okay?” She asked.

They usually didn’t talk during lunch, mainly because they were trying to find a way to stomach the slop they served the slaves. The slop thrown to them was usually a gray and gooey mush. It was difficult to swallow, much less chew, and it tasted of the foulest thing any human could ever eat. The only thing comforting was the fresh water served, but it was never cold.

Today the gruel was a thick gelatinous texture that had a tan color, but it had done its purpose to feed the girls. The slaves didn’t starve, somewhat. They were fed once a day and if they misbehaved they could be fed as little as twice a week. Camila hasn’t had that in the past three years though.

Anyway, it was better to work the brothel on a full stomach rather than starve for the rest of the day. The day with no food meant the slaves had no fuel to work and displeasing the clients was a thin ice no one wished to walk across, should Sebastian find a slave was completely inadequate.

Camila picked up her spoon and rest her chin on to her right hand as she stared into her bowl of gruel. A sickening sequencing sound came from the bowl as the spoon was lifted and plopped back down. Dinah cringed.

“Is something bothering you?” Dinah questioned.

Camila glanced up at her with a visible pout. It would be an understatement to say she was bothered. It had been exactly a week since Camila’s heard from or seen Lauren. She couldn’t forget their time at the club. Lauren seemed to enjoy her company and Camila would never dare say it out loud, but she enjoyed it too. Lauren didn’t push her into anything. They spent the night exploring the club with Lauren showing her the things the club offered and the crazy fetishes not only the demons had, but the humans; who had been more than willing to attend this club. They took complete joy in spending time with their owners.

Lauren hadn’t confirmed she’d see Camila again, but she assumed she would stop by the following day. By the end of the week Camila had given up wondering if Lauren would show. A wave of disappointment replaced her patience. She grew angry and bitter.

“Lauren hasn’t come by in a week.” Camila mumbled.

She had no concern to hide her disappointment. Dinah perked up with a devilish smile.

“You were with Lauren that night?” She grinned.

Camila placed her spoon down and took a sip of her lukewarm cup of water. She cringed as she swallowed.

“Did she wear a mask again?” Dinah prodded.

“No.” Camila muttered.

Dinah chuckled. “Oh, I know that look! You’re completely smitten by her aren’t you?!”

Camila scoffed. “I am not.”

Dinah snorted and crossed her arms with a scowl in place. “Don’t lie to me. It’s insulting to our friendship.”

Camila hunched over the table with a heavy sigh and threaded a hand into her hair. It had knotted again as Sebastian had no intention of letting Camila wear the braid Lucy had set in. The collar and leash were thrown away.

“She’s attractive.” Camila admitted.

Dinah shrugged, accepting that would be the closest to a confession she would get. Camila had her pride as much as Dinah had hers. It didn’t always keep them grounded, but it gave them clear limits, though some weren’t as clear during communication.

“We uh…” Camila rubbed the back of her neck, while she began to blush.

Dinah shot up straight in her chair, startling the four girls next to them and glared at them until they turn away. Dinah had the largest smug grin Camila had ever seen and that only increased her embarrassment.

“I knew it!” Dinah yelped. “Was she good?”

“Dinah!” Camila hissed.

“Oh come on. It’s Lauren Jauregui. I think everyone has had wet dreams about her!” Dinah proclaimed.

Taking notice of a guard at the far cafeteria shifting and eyeing Dinah and Camila, Dinah began to calm down and become less frantic in her motions. Camila was glaring back at her.

“Why do you look so disappointed?” Dinah asked.

“It’s been a week.” Camila snapped.

“Hmm.” Dinah hummed. “That good, huh?”

“Just shut up Dinah !” Camila growled.

Dinah laughed and picked up a scoop of her slop. She nudged Camila’s hand, affectionately.

“Cheer up.” She coaxed. “I’m not used to seeing my verbal spar buddy this down. If there’s one thing I know it’s that no one can resist Camila Cabello. She’ll come back. Trust me.”

Camila gave a painful smile in Dinah’s direction and the two friends ate the rest of today’s meal. They had a long day before bed time.

***

“Wake up! All of you on your feet!” Sebastian shouted, slamming a nine inch metal pipe along the wall as he walked.

The sound of his boots stomping against the concrete as the pipe rattled through the room brought a sharp pain to the back of Camila’s skull. Sebastian glared at the group of slaves that arose to their crude awakening.

The metal walls had caused the noise of Sebastian’s voice to echo and increase into a sound that had painfully pierced Camila’s ears. Dinah was up before Camila and looked just as irritated. As the slaves began to understand the situation they roused from the floor.

Stretching up from the floor and cringing as her body ached, Camila scanned the room. Nothing had changed and looking down to herself she was still bound in her collar with her entire body bare. It was difficult to judge the time of day due to the lack of windows, but Sebastian had the decency to include air ventilation. A dead slave was a useless one and Sebastian hated losing money.

As Sebastian walked along the perimeter of the holding-cell, Camila cringed hearing him hit the wall a last time before dropping the pipe to the ground. Judging from the unusual amount of aching in her body, Camila figured it wasn’t even sunrise yet, but that also meant the brothel wasn’t open.

She would never understand the reason for Sebastian’s decisions, but she knew Sebastian was capable of cruel things. He was ruthless and greedy. A Slave-Trader everyone feared, but Camila refused to give him that satisfaction and as punishment her body bared scars of her pride. She noticed the expression of fear on other slaves’ faces as they tried to make sense of the commotion.

“What’s going on?” Dinah whispered.

Camila shrugged. It was much too early to be fed. The only reason Sebastian would be here this early was if a slave had screwed up. Camila had let her clients return home happy, newbie slaves have always been known to mess up. It had happened before and because Sebastian was such an asshole, he punished every slave with a two hour lashing. Camila gingerly touched her back and cringed at the memory.

“Line up!” Sebastian ordered, removing his whip from the holster on his hip.

Camila noticed Dinah flinch at the sight of the bullwhip. She took a step back for cover.

Quickly, the girls scattered and stood in a perfect line in under a minute. The haze of sleep was gone and replaced with fear. Camila ignored the mutters of the younger girls that still couldn’t understand standard protocol.

Camila grinded her teeth, fighting back to tell them to shut up. She didn’t need an extra lash, if they were all bound to endure a two hour punishment. Sebastian stood in front of the girls with his arms tucked behind his back.

“Listen up ladies.” He started. “We are having a special client visiting us tonight. It was requested that I open the brothel two hours in advance for the buyer’s privacy.” Camila scoffed. “This is a highly valuable and respected customer! I expect you all to remain on your best behavior and do what is asked of you no matter the request. I do not want to hear a single complaint or whine from any of you and as always do not mention the identity of who enters through this door. Am I clear?!”

“Yes Master.” The rows of slaves chimed.

Satisfied, Sebastian walked to the side of the room and not a second later the sleeping chamber door opened. Camila couldn’t fight the feeling of anticipation as she stared at the doorway, curious if the person walking through that door was a male or female. She only hoped it was at least a human. She hated serving demons. They were far more violent.

From the distance, Camila heard light tapping that increased in volume as it got closer. Entering the chamber, Camila nearly choked on her on saliva in shock. The woman dressed in a black sleek dress with a golden necklace above the neck-line with a green gem in the middle had been Lauren.

Dinah let out a squeak, but Camila was too frozen in place in a trance because of Lauren’s appearance to turn and see if Dinah had a heart attack.

Lauren brushed back a piece of black hair from her face as she scanned the rows of slaves. Swiftly, Sebastian’s whip was lifted above his hip and hit the floor with a crisp smack. The two dozen girls turned around. Camila picked up the sound of those red heels again. The tapping stopped behind her.

“Assume the position!” Sebastian screamed.

“As I’ve said before Mr. Smyth, it wasn’t necessary to awaken all these girls.” Lauren said. “I told you before, I only have an interest in Camila.”

“It’s protocol Miss.” Sebastian insisted. “As a potential buyer you are to look over the overall health of the slave.”

Hesitantly, Camila remained still. A scoff came from behind her before she finally moved. Bending over, Camila glared down to the floor and spread her legs. A soft hand rested on to her back before moving to the curve of her hip. Two hands cupped her butt before pushing them apart. Sebastian walked over, stationed in front of Camila.

“She’s had many owners during her stay here.” Sebastian informed.

“All male?” Lauren asked, her voice smooth and low.

Camila fought against the chill in her body. Lauren firmly squeezed her ass and Camila gulped. She couldn’t stop her legs from trembling. A small chuckle erupted from Lauren that caused Camila to sigh. She wasn’t as discreet as she wanted to be, but her body had grown accustom to reacting to touches due to the amount of complaints from past clients. Sebastian made sure to fix her lack of response.

Sebastian nodded. Lauren chuckled.

“Her ass is quite the prized possession.” Sebastian smirked.

Camila’s jaw clenched. She knew of her valued assets, but she had hated the way Sebastian boasted about it in a deeming way to lower Camila as a human. A hand softly squeezed down on Camila’s left cheek before being removed.

“I can see why.” Lauren sharply spoke. “Is there a reason why she’s had so many owners?”

Camila shifted her feet restlessly. Taking note, Sebastian lightly tapped his whip against Camila’s back. The action was effective enough to crush the fire in Camila’s chest. She wanted more than anything to beat Sebastian senseless and Lauren too.

“She’s very disobedient.” Sebastian replied. “She has been known to attack her handlers. Camila isn’t the one for you.”

“Quite the opposite Mr. Smyth, she is exactly what I’m looking for.” Lauren insisted. “Stand up and face me.”

Camila looked back into the swirl of green and red eyes with a frown. The look of hatred she projected to this spoiled and highly privileged woman did little to deter Lauren’s poise stature. A hand reached out, cupping Camila’s cheek and a finger ran along the length of her plump bottom lip.

Lauren smiled. “It’s been a while Camila.” She brushed the tip of her nose against Camila’s cheek. “Your mouth is just as attractive.”

Camila moved her head away in disgust. Sebastian glared at her and lifted his whip a second time.

“That’s alright Mr. Smyth.” Lauren sternly spoke, staring back into Camila’s brown eyes. “No need to hit her. She hasn’t upset me in any way.”

Camila glanced back over to Sebastian who kept the same scowl on his face m. She had broken rules. It didn’t matter how long she’s been here. She hated this place and she hated every person that walked in here too overpowered by their desire to get off and see any of these girls as human beings.

But she especially hated Lauren for not coming to visit her for an entire week, only to show up and take her away. She was purchasing Camila, like cattle.

Camila took a small quip of pride disrespecting Sebastian and defacing his reputation as a professional businessman. Sebastian hated looking bad in front of any client. His reputation was important to his business. Camila would expect to get another lashing later on tonight.

“I’ll take her.” Lauren announced.

Sebastian’s frown dropped. “Ma'am, please, I insist you do not want anything to do with-”

“I’ve made my decision.” Lauren interrupted. “She is what I want Mr. Smyth. How much?”

Sebastian sighed. “Yes ma'am. Considering her temperament, I’ll cut you a deal. 50 grand.”

Lauren smiled. “Agreed. I will have my men pay you half in an hour and the rest tomorrow morning.” The woman walked toward the door. “It was a pleasure doing business with you Mr. Smyth.”

***

Camila didn’t have a chance to say goodbye to Dinah. She was taken out of the cell, clothed, and chained by her wrist and neck in the next half hour. Sebastian made some effort to have Camila bathed. Granted, this brothel had no bathroom, other than holes in the ground for the slaves’ use.

She had to be taken out back and shoved into a large wooden bucket full of cold water from the hose. The rest of her body was scrubbed raw and red with soap that smelled so strong of lilac it made her dizzy. She’s never had a smell so sweet choke her that she was near ready to jump out of the tub. The scrubbing had been over before Camila had reached her limit of this overpowering smell and she was groomed after.

Her hair had gotten badly knotted over time and had to be cut to the top of her shoulders then brushed out. The smell of lilac was still strongly clinging to her skin. Then finally she was clothed in an itchy old potato sack and sent off. She couldn’t understand why she was blindfolded when she was done being decorated. One of the brothel guards guided her into the car out front and she was off.

The entire car ride was silent and Camila couldn’t tell if she was alone, or if someone was with her. It had been a two hour drive before it stopped. Her question had been answered when she heard noise on the other side of the car that hadn’t been her and once again, she was guided out of the car.

A strong hand latched on to her arm and up a flight of steps. Irritated, she scratched at the skin underneath the potato sack. It was strange to be clothed and wearing shoes again. Despite the clothes Sebastian had given her was a rucksack, she had gotten used to being physically exposed at all times.

The sound of doors opening spiked a feel of anxiety in Camila and her thoughts were washed out with the sound of her footsteps echoing loudly through the main entrance. She was told to remain still, but the blindfold had not been taken off. She could faintly hear muttering behind her.

“Alright, let’s go.” The guard instructed.

He had kept a hand on Camila’s shoulder as they continued to walk again. The path taking her up two flights of stairs, but the floor was padded as Camila could no longer hear either of their footsteps.

“Hold still.” The guard spoke again.

The tip of his blazer lightly grazed Camila’s wrist as he walked beside her. She could pick up the sound of rustling, then the shake of keys. A lock clicked free and the same clink of keys as they were put away.

“Thank you Puck.” This voice was not as smooth as the woman in the brothel.

Puck let out a grunt before walking away and Camila was left in silence. The tip of her fingers drummed against her thighs. The longer she stood in this silence, still blindfolded, the more anxious she became. But be there no statement of rules, Camila knew better than to remove the cloth out of free will.

It was a privilege to be here, to do, and be given anything. A simple action was to be asked. Camila was to gain permission. The uneasy silence was finally ripped apart with the sound of crisp and sharp heels from inside the room.

“Come inside.”

Carefully, Camila made her way inside, using the tips of her fingers to navigate around the room. When she had moved passed the doorway the door behind her slammed shut. Anxiously, Camila froze, biting her bottom lip to wait for farther commands. She hadn’t been outside or in a new surrounding in the last ten years.

Sebastian’s cold and violent behavior had been all she knew. At least that was predictable. The owner that had been persistent on purchasing Camila was a new playing field. What if she was much worse than Sebastian?

“Hello Camila.” The woman greeted.

Camila flinched as the blindfold on face was roughly tugged down. The shift in light nearly blinded her. Blinking several times, Camila adjusted to the change and found herself in front of Lucy, who held a glare as a greeting.

“The Mistress apologizes about the blindfold.” Lucy grumbled. “The last two slaves escaped during their travel.”

She motioned to the room around them, leaving Camila in complete awe. The room had been big enough to be its own apartment. A dream home Camila never dared to think would be hers. It was twice the size of the room Camila was to share with twenty other women back at the brothel.

The rug looked expensive, much like the furniture decorating this room, down to the drapes. All a price and value Camila had thought to only be possible in books, let alone see in person and during her lifetime. The bed to the far right of the room was beautiful.

A queen size mattress, neatly decorated in deep purple sheets and white plush pillows. The sight of the bed had brought a push of exhaustion into Camila that she had not been aware of since the start of her transportation from the brothel. It had left her far more exhausted than she expected.

“This is your room.” The woman explained. “You are to rise at 6am sharp, breakfast is served downstairs at 7am, there you will be given your chores, and bed time is at 10pm.”

She pulled out the chair tucked underneath Camila’s vanity desk and took a seat.

“The Mistress is very strict about curfew. You are to not leave unless granted permission. The bathroom is across from the bed should you have to use it during the night. And I am to help guide and train you during your stay.” The woman sat back up. “It has been decided that you are to be the Mistress’s personal assistant should you pass your training.”

Lucy spoke with such a bitter tone. She wanted nothing to do with Camila, but she had been given orders and Lucy was not one to ignore them as Lauren trusted her with her duties. It had become a great deal of importance to Lauren that Lucy train Camila for the new position, while Lauren tended to her own responsibilities.

“You’ll need to get fitted for your new clothes.” Lucy blurted. “As of right now, your closets are empty, but we can get you something to wear by the Mistress’s personal tailors. Harry?!”

Quickly, the bedroom door was pushed open and in came a slim, green-eyed, pale, and fashionably dressed young man. He fixed the flaps of his already perfectly neat collar, and brushed a hand through his long brown hair.

“Hello Lucy.” He responded.

“Please take Camila to Tina. The Mistress wants both her wardrobe closets to be filled.” Lucy instructed. “She’d catch a fit if she saw Camila right now.”

“Yes, right away.” Harry agreed, cringing as he noticed Camila’s choice of outfit and took a hold of her shoulder. “Follow me, quickly!”

Completely unresponsive, Harry took a hold of Camila’s arm and yanked her out the room.