#but once he escapes the lobotomies he is still trying to be something else to some extent. he couldn't be a good angel

[bisaster-energy]

literally don't listen to the oh hellos valley album if thinking about sam winchester makes u feel anything because those songs are so fucking samcoded it'll tear ur heart out

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

There's More To Do

Author's note: More of Nanael in Husbandry.

Summary: So- how did Nanael go from being a tragic boy to Cedric's Body dumping buddy? Part 3

Warnings: Chaos Marines. And what they do to Loyalists. LMK if I need to add anything.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @ms--lobotomy , @thevoidscreams, @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

Tagged: @felinisnoctis, @undeaddream

Nanael is also, he realizes so very hungry, and thirsty. He staggers, weak at the knees and finds the river and collapses next to it and drinks the untreated water, it won't kill him, he thinks, and if it is bad, he will still get some nourishment while his Belcher's gland will deal with the bad stuff.

As he eagerly, greedily drank the water and washed the stench of the dead from his features and grieved the lost souls. Part of him wonders, how it's possible that he woke up from death.

Once- well, that had been explained the message from Father. But- that was just the first time, the next time there had been a dark nothingness, like he'd been asleep, and then had woken up.

He took in a couple of shake breaths. He needed to find shelter, he needed to find fellow astartes- at least ones that won't actively seek his death if possible. Nanael needs to avenge himself- and the fallen from that mad bastard of a Chaplain.

He hears the distinctive sound of ceramite on natural ground and his head snaps up and he flaps his wings to get air born, caution making him wait to see who or what it was that was coming in this direction.

His brightly colored armor makes hiding from others difficult. His hearts sink to his stomach as he hears strange- warbling voices and sees massive mutated forms of Chaos Marines, a full warband from the size of the group.

He's just a lone Scout- and he'd die, again, if he goes against them. One of the Chaos Marines heads suddenly snaps up and their horrific smile, merged with his armor as he calls out to his traitor brethren and points of Nanael.

'Well fuck.' Nanael thinks as he tries to decide his next move.

"Little bird, stuck in a tree?" One of the Chaos Marines taunt up to him.

"Begone, Chaos scum!" Nanael calls out voice strong.

"Hah- there are more of us than there are of you, Imperial Dog," One of the other Chaos Marines scoff.

Nanael's hands clench into fists as he tries to decide his next course of action. He sees a burst of glowing energy. Psyker fuck. And tries to dodge the attack, but the psyker controls the energy blast and it hits him and drags him out of the sky.

He fights and struggles- trying to escape the grasp of the telepathic hold and the Chaos Marines as they descend on him. Grabbing his arms and legs as the leader of the Chaos Warband barks something and his helmet gets ripped off and some one else knocks him out with a large needle. The liquid burns like fire and freezes him to his core.

...

Nanael wakes up... an indeterminate amount of time later, his head sore, as are his limbs. His mouth is dry and tastes terrible. He tries to move and hits something metallic with a hand. His eyes open fully, and he realizes that he was stripped of armor and weapons.

"The birdie is awake~" one of the Chaos Marines croon out at Nanael, and a couple more of the Chaos Traitors come over to gawk at him.

Nanael glares up at them, a low growl in his throat as his hands clench into fists.

"I wonder if we can get the birdie to sing," Elona says with a smirk as he crouches near the Son of Sanguinius. His eyes looking over the younger marine.

He looks strong- and large. Well muscled and with the Wing Mutation, that is rare among the Gene-Seed Line of the Ninth. He sees the red in the brown eyes of the Space Marine, he knows from experience that the more red his eyes, the more temperamental and prone to stabbing and bloody violence he's going to be.

"I won't sing for you," Nanael says scowling at the lot of them.

"Not now, but you will," Skaevadror says, a look of dark promise in his eyes that made Nanael uneasy.

"Despite his growls," Horandast says, ignoring his words, cocking his head to the side, "He has a melodious voice. Good- hearing him scream will be fun~!"

"Now, now," Verzos says, "we should ask him if he'll join our war band first, before having fun with him."

"NEVER!" Nanael says defiantly.

"Oh good, I'm glad you said that," Toradreel says, "That means we get to convince you."

"Torture me all you like," Nanael says, "I won't bend or break for the likes of you."

"Bold words," Maraddreel says, a bored drawl in his voice, "You aren't the first we've caught, and you won't be the last."

Uvrox seems to be vibrating in glee as he sees the young Son of the Ninth- it had been a while since their Warband had found another Astartes.

He was the youngest, and newest member of the warband, and often got the shit jobs and worst brunt of the older, more powerful and higher in the hierarchy brothers and cousins of the War band.

But with the Loyalist, so long as he doesn't go too far- he can vent his frustrations on another, without getting the shit beat out of him by another one of the war band, all of them more high ranking than him.

Well, except for their new loyalist toy- who will fall or die. Or be traded away for something from one of the more established warbands. Which ever happened first.

Nanael meditates as best he can- all he can do is wait, bide his time to escape. Over the next few days, he notices they neither give him food, nor give him water.

He wouldn't accept such, likely poisoned or drugged offerings, but the fact that they make sure to eat and drink in front of him, while he receives nothing doesn't surprise him.

Uvrox comes over to him, a tray of food in hand and the- from what he can tell youngest, and weakest of the War band smirks down at him and starts to eat.

"I'm so glad that you are with us," Uvrox says while he eats. "I get double the rations."

Some how, Nanael isn't surprised that The War band had wanted to feed him, but one of their members, instead of offering the food to him, was eating it instead. Greedy bastards, Chaos.

Nanael doesn't look at him, doesn't respond. Just silence as he continues to meditate and try to plan his escape. Uvrox scowls, enraged that the pretty Imperial dog wasn't deigning to give him attention.

He growls and grabs his spiked mace and smacks the top of the cage, "Look at me when I talk to you Imperialist Dog!"

Nanael deliberately turns away from the Chaos Marine, making sure to seem as if he was ignoring him as much as possible. Meanwhile he was very aware of the other's presence.

"What are you doing?" One of the others barks out at Uvrox, "Feed the imperial- we are going to start working on him in a couple of days. The wait helps soften them up. Brat!"

That other brother smacks the back of his head. Uvrox whines at Skaevadror, "but sir- he's ignoring me!"

"Of course he is, you're a snot nosed, sniveling wretch." Skaevadror says smacking the other Chaos Marine again for good measure, "And stop eating the Loyalists food. We need him fed enough to know what's going on. Idiot."

"... Yes sir," Uvrox grumbles as he tosses the food into Nanael's cage.

Nanael doesn't react to it, other than catching the food and carefully sniffing it and glaring at the pair of Chaos Marines. As the Chaos Marine had been eating little bites out of it.

He at most of it- his mouth avoiding the parts touched by the disgusting Chaos Bastard's mouth. He tosses those bits out of the cage, and smirks when it hits one of their legs and they growl at him about it.

Horandast comes over and uses the mace to smack him for his cheek for daring to stain his armor with food. Nanael dodges the blow as best he can in the cage and spits out curses.

Part of him thinks about spitting acid at the bastard, his mouth watering with saliva- but no, he needs to bide his time. Nanael has been trying to keep track of time.

Half asleep, half awake, not wanting to fully sleep, not surrounded by Chaos scum, but also knowing that he needs to have some sleep in order to have a stronger mind against whatever horrors and tortures they are going to inflict on him.

Nanael's eyes snap open, when his Cage his jostled and he glares at some of his Chaos kidnappers. One of the mutated chaos worshippers marines, he has armor of an Apothecary comes over and uses a big ass needle, which he injects Nanael with.

He had of course tried to avoid the needle, but there was precious little he could do in the almost too small cage that they had stuck him in. He growls at the sting of the pain and the way the horrible chaos liquid burned and froze him.

"With that," Verzos informs the Imperial dog he'd injected, "you'll feel more acutely what it is that our Torture expert does to you. I will enjoy hearing you sing agony to the camp."

Nanael does not like the sound of that his cage is lifted and put on display in the middle of camp. Most of the Chaos marines are walking about - doing normal things one would do around an encampment.

He spots- to his surprise, some poor, hapless baseline humans, possessively tucked next to a Chaos Marine. Always within arms reach of the bastard that had stolen them from... somewhere.

One of the younger ones looked over at him, their eyes wide, "A-angel." They squeak out in lisping high Gothic.

"He looks like one, doesn't he," The Chaos Marine croons at the child, oddly gentle as he scoops up the baseline child. "Come - lets go pick some berries outside of camp."

"aww... Okay big brother." The child pouts. "Why is he in a cage?"

"Well- he's doesn't know the rules yet," The Chaos Marine explains, "so he has to stay there, until he learns to behave."

Nanael growls at that, his eyes flashing, how dare the Chaos bastard have a child in their grasp. Before he could do more -one of the other Chaos Marines approaches his cage and his focus shifts on the threat that is closer to him.

The rest of the warband members- of which there were three others who had baseline humans, had each come up with a different excuse as they took them out of camp.

"Are you going to make a spectacle of this?" Nanael calls out boredly.

"Indeed," Toradreel says, "We don't get much entertainment, so breaking in a Loyalist will be great fun."

"I won't break," Nanael says defiantly.

"They all say that," Toradreel says with a laugh as he shakes his head, as he pats the arm of a silver haired, dark brown eyed and skinned chaos marine next to him, "Remember when you said that?"

"... I do, sir." The Chaos Marine said looking a little pale under his dark skin and the way he shied from the master torturer's touch.

"Hm," Toradreel says as he focuses on his implements that he'd use on the young blood angel.

While going after his wings is tempting- they will need to be usable by the time he falls to Chaos. He grabs a long thin knife and turns towards Nanael with a faux-pleasant smile on his face, as cruelty glitters in his eyes.

"I am an excellent teacher, of pain, of pleasure, and of getting loyalist to fall and swear to Chaos," Toradreel says, almost like he's speaking to a child.

Nanael feels a pit in his stomach form and he starts to murmur the litanies of hate and protection. Toradreel approaches with a glinting knife by the fire and starts to use his new canvas.

[intothewickedwood]

Once Upon A Time In Wonderland Rewatch: 1x01 Down the Rabbit Hole

So my mum and I love this spin off and rewatch at least once every 2 years. If you haven’t given it a try yet, I can’t recommend it enough! It has complex romance, creative ideas, strong friendships, terrifying villains and a solid plot.  

One thing though is that some of the creatures scare me so much that I have to watch those parts with my eyes closed lol. It’s kinda thrilling though, not knowing when to close your eyes. It’s like riding a rollercoaster. It’s become part of the fun for my mum and I. But that’s just us. You might not find them remotely frightening.

Okay, here we go y’all! I’ll try to keep my thoughts free of spoilers for future episodes.

Alice’s house exterior is so gorgeous.

Holy bananas, how long has she been gone?!

Edwin is a freaking terrible father. Lock the damn doors! He should have someone watching her at all times if she leaves the house. Get a nanny or something! Don’t just let her continue running off to God knows where! She’s just a kid!

And the White Rabbit should probably know better than to lead her to that extremely dangerous place.  

Will!  

Emma nearly ran him over lol.

Ashley! Looks like she’s wearing a Granny’s apron. I guess she was a waitress there.

And Leroy! Cool!

So, I believe this is set some point around season 2. I guess it’s the same day the curse was broken, unless someone else was driving Emma’s car.

Holy cow! How’s granny gonna get that giant hole out the floor??

“I’m late! I’m late!”

That rabbit’s got pink eyes. Cool. I had a dwarf hamster with red eyes. Her name was Tango and her sister, Mango, tried to eat her so we had to separate them. Loved them both.

Alice!

I know how most peeps feel about the cgi in this show but it really doesn’t bother me. Sure it would be cooler if it looked more realistic but it’s the compelling story, dynamics and characters that capture me and allow me to easily look beyond that and suspend my disbelief.

This Lydgate guy istg! I wonder if this is before or after Jekyll killed his daughter, Mary. Oh, his name is Arthur and apparently it’s after she died. Maybe that’s why he’s so bitter.

Cyrus! So Charming.

Couldn’t he just walk out that bottle and drink that ‘drink me’ bottle to turn to his original size? Maybe there’s a magic barrier preventing him from leaving like the one keeping Alice Jones in her tower. And he’s be brought right back to it id someone rubbed it.

Poor Rabbit. I love this Alice as well but that’s a big difference between her and Alice Jones. This one’s more selfish but we get to see her character develop so that she becomes less so and I think that’s really cool!

She’s his master? But she didn’t rub the bottle, did she?

Alice: “I don’t wish for anything!” I wonder if she says that because she doesn’t want to accidentally wish for something. Could she even make a wish in the Victorian Realm?

The Land Without Magic doesn’t seem to be the only place without magic. The Victorian England Realm seems not to have any either. Baelfire could have easily ended up in that land but we know he doesn’t.

Oh snap! I somehow missed when he said she and Cyrus apparently travelled from world to world fighting pirates and swimming with mermaids. I guess all Alice’s like to travel. I wonder what realms she and Cyrus went to. Neverland to swim with mermaids and fight pirates?

She totally should have written a book.

Oh, I guess he did walk out of his bottle and drink the ‘drink me’ potion.

Ah gosh, it must be so painful for Alice to say all the things she went through and the love she felt for Cyrus weren’t real.

Betrayed by the sleep talking. My mum sleep talks and my dad sleepwalks. Please let me escape those genetics!

Anastasia!

The fight scenes are so cool!

Oh no!

She doesn’t write her surname, dammit. I want to know her surname so I can more easily distinguish the two Alices in my tags!  

Oh snap! He was gonna perform a lobotomy on her. Do they still do that? In Smallville Clark was awake when they tried to do it on him, I wonder if that’s actually a thing because it seems like it would be terrifying and hurt like hell. Oh, it’s seen as inhumane nowadays. Apparently they could be done while awake.

Maybe she wasn’t trying to lie to them. She seems to have convinced herself that Will wasn’t/isn’t real, so maybe she convinced herself everything else wasn’t real either.

“You know as well as I do, Alice, nothing’s impossible in Wonderland.” And that’s why it’s so awesome!

Girl can fight! Love this scene where she fights the asylum staff!  

I mean, I’m a pacifist in real life but I do love a good fictional fight scene.  

Dr. Lydgate’s face when he sees the White Rabbit talk.

Bouncy marshmallow!  

The mallow marsh is such a good, creative idea.  

I haven’t had marshmallows since I became a vegetarian 16 years ago. I’ve completely forgotten what they taste like and I am sad I’ll never get to know what’s so good about s’mores.

Damn. Would have loved it if Jefferson was in this show.

The dragonflies are dragons. Love it!

I love the Tulgey Woods scenes in the animated movie. So dark and mysterious.

Will: “I’m gonna die like a bloody s’more.” Lol. I love him.

She’s making s’mores! This show is off the rails and I love it.

Lol. He looks like a snowman.

I’m surprised they managed to get all of that off them. Maybe they ate it off.  

Oh wait, the Rabbit was lying?

The Tulgey Woods!  

This Jafar has to be the most terrifying villain in all of Ouat. Perhaps because he seems incapable of love.

Were Jafar and the Red Queen a thing? I can never tell.  

Jafar flying on the carpet like it’s a surfboard. Whoa, like, ride the waves, dude!

It must be more difficult to climb a tree with just socks on.

The cheshire cat! I’ve always loved the Cheshire cat. Such a mysterious character. I have to say, my favourite version might just be lesbian Cheshire Cat/Caterpillar from the musical, Alice by heart. It’s so good and she’s so gay. I highly recommend.

I love the way he speaks in riddles.

He straight up tried to eat her! And it seemed they used to he friends!

Will to the rescue! No one hurts his little sis!

I just freaking love the Tulgey Woods.

I wish Jefferson would just appear at his house. He made so many hats trying to get back to his daughter. Poor guy.

I wonder how he came upon his original hat and why it had magic it seems he couldn’t replicate.

She found Cyrus’ necklace!

Bless Will, he’s not leaving without her.

[an-android-in-a-tutu]

But just like generally the lobotomy arc and Cas’ selective amnesia bothers me a bit because I feel like it never reaches some kind of resolution. I feel like in a lot of ways it just sort of exists to retcon that Cas was always a special boy and while he is the specialest boy to me I don’t like that and I think there’s juicy character stuff to be had there if you just break down into it!

Like, I feel like if you’re going to reveal that a character has a past that even they aren’t aware of you have gotta use that to kick off some kind of identity crisis. Either you give Cas back his memories bc this is magic world and lobotomies can be reversible if we say so, and have him realize that he’s an entirely different person than he always thought he was and he needs to reconcile who he’s become with the memories of who he was, or you don’t but then he still has to figure out how to come to terms with the parts of his history he’ll never know and grapple with what this means for his idea of himself going forward.

Cas is kind of, arguably he’s a character who relies a lot on other people for his self-perception, like he defines himself according to how other people see him, and he can have a tendency to be self-deluding. So when you take a character like that and you tell him. Hey, your sense of identity is actually literally constructed by an outside force. Like this is how you see yourself but it’s fake and was created for you by someone else so you could better fit a role. That’s something isn’t it? Doesn’t that feel like a starting point to get him to maybe confront a whole lot of identity issues?

Like the whole “came off the line with a crack in his chassis” thing has the potential to be compelling to me, not because it actually means that Cas was special or broken from day one, but because it runs directly counter to the other narrative we have about Castiel which is the minute he lay a hand on Dean’s soul in hell he was lost/Castiel was a good soldier until he met Dean narrative. And the tension between those two opposing ideas is never really confronted or resolved!

We know which one Cas prefers, “I loved the whole world because of you” and all, he very much sees Dean as having changed him and made him better and that makes sense, because from his perspective that is very much what happened. Even if he rebelled before he can’t remember it, it doesn’t really change this version of events or make it less meaningful to him.

But! I still feel like that would be fascinating for him to confront and work through. Because I don’t think either of those narratives are fully true or that one is more accurate than the other. I think those are just two ways that angels try to explain Castiel. Either he was broken and/or special all along and is rebellion is an expression of that or he was a normal angel once before he was corrupted into what he is now.

But like Castiel, like any angel, was kind of just a person. A person who kept having their agency stripped away until he ended up in the right place at the right time and managed to escape the system that was doing that to him long enough to get solid footing and push back, and Sam and Dean helped him do that, and it had to be in that time and place with those people in order for so much to come of it, but that doesn’t mean that was the first or only time it happened, or the only way it could have happened.

And I think it would be cool for Cas to have to figure out who he is if he’s kind of always been a person, because he does kind of view himself primarily by his utility and he does kind of have a hard time separating himself out from Dean, and that’s one reason why I think that’d make a valuable character arc for him because if he was always kind of a person, and he wasn’t an automaton that first came to life when he touched Dean’s soul- for one thing if Dean didn’t create him then maybe Dean isn’t God and doesn’t have to be obeyed like he is.

Which is why I think it’s kind of cool that when Cas first breaks out of the angel brainwashing he takes the tablet and runs from everyone Including Dean, but this is Supernatural so that kind of arc isn’t allowed to happen and Cas gets punished for that obviously.

Anyway long story short this is why Meg should have lived so she and Cas could have their hot girl summer and find themselves on like a fun road trip.

[hadtochangemyurlquick]

when toni and shelby reunite and toni compliments shelby’s buzz cut and shelby blushes then what

you: here’s a cute prompt of shelby and toni reuniting :)

me: thx! here’s a 1.4k meditation on solitary confinement and paranoid schizophrenia, tw for all that stuff.

you: did you get dumped again or something

Solitary, Shelby knew, was decided to be an inhumane punishment by the pilgrims in the 1600s. They originally thought criminals would take the time to study the bible and reflect on their misdeeds. Instead, well meaning judges would open the cell doors after even the shortest of sentences and find a wholly different person than the one they locked in there. 


There were a number of physical manifestations solitary can cause. A shrunken hippocampus, Shelby was pretty sure was one. Or perhaps that was just general trauma. She couldn’t remember. 


She was pretty sure having difficulty remembering things was another effect of trauma.

But there was other stuff too: insomnia, damaged speech patterns, mood swings, hallucinations, delusions, to name a couple.

See, in the ninth grade they read of Mice and Men and had to research mental health practices in that era. It was a group assignment and while others researched electro-shock therapy and lobotomies, Shelby was put on solitary confinement. It was a reoccurring nightmare for years after, just sitting in a room alone. Alone. Alone.

The “reintegration” therapy her father put her through in junior year was what later Martha would call “love-bombing.”

“It’s a cult thing,” Martha explained. “They get you involved by being like—the nicest ever. Like nicer and more social than any group of people ever normally would be.”

“Baby girl, how do you know so much about cults?” Fatin asked.

Martha shrugged. “Netflix documentaries.”

So the Bible sessions were mostly her father praying for her mortal soul, holding her, telling her how much he loved her, and getting others in the church to do the same. And it made her nightmares worse, her alone with her mind in that big empty room.

Loss made her fear that much more palpable, she supposed.

The real thing, the real and actual thing of being locked in her room, was not what she had imagined.

For one it was worse. Even with Dr. Faber coming in at least once a day she found herself confronting a migraine regularly. Voices faded in and out and a few times she caught Becca whispering for her to end it. She was sure the place was infested with mice but despite her turning over her bed and destroying her room, she never found pellets.

The worst was before they decided to break out. She had jolted up from her bed, bugs crawling all over her body, eating her alive.

She had scraped her skin raw, desperately hoping her panic hadn’t shown on camera.

After her allergic reaction, Dr. Faber no longer came to see her. She heard Young walk by on occasion, but she could no longer trust her hearing.

She didn’t know how many days passed, maybe it was a week or so, before the sounds of dozens of footsteps slammed through hallways and her door fell off its hinges beneath a military grade boot.

There was a lot of shouting and commands, so many hands touching her, around her, a shock blanket wrapped around her shoulders, people wearing white with red crosses asking her questions she couldn’t understand, the pounding of the ocean in her ears, struggling to find air, like everyone around was using too much.

A slight pinching in her arm told her it was done.

When she woke up again she was in a new room, lights dimmed like it was night, and two figures sat on either side of her.

Her hands told her the sheet was a different one, her eyes told her the room was a different one, hell even her memory was happy to recount what was more than likely a rescue. None of it was real, none of it was—

“Shelby?” One of the figures stirred. They got to their feet and took her hand, interlacing their fingers. “Hey.”

Reasonably, Shelby could deduct from the brown hair, brown eyes, tan skin, and dimpled smile that it was Toni. It could’ve been Becca wearing a mask, but it was likely Toni.

“Toni?” She asked, just to make sure.

“Yeah,” Toni said. “It’s me.” She smiled. “I missed you.”

“What’s happening?” Shelby asked.

“We got rescued, again,” Toni said. “The actual FBI came and fucked shit up. They got you but said you passed out from the stress, so we’re sitting in a hospital in California. Apparently we weren’t far.”

“California?” Shelby asked.

“Yeah,” Toni said. “By the bay actually. Near where Leah lives. I think.”

“Oh,” Shelby said. She tried to sort through her mind but it felt more cluttered than usual. “The others?”

“Leah had a similar thing, so she’s in a different room with Fatin keeping an eye. Rachel’s getting her hand looked at and Nora and Martha are with her. And Dot’s over there.”

Toni nodded at the other person in the room who chose that moment to stand up.

Dot asked her a question and Shelby tried to think of an answer. Toni was still holding her hand and with both of them in the room it was hard to remember which one to look at. Should she look at either? She should look at the person talking, that she remembered, but if neither were talking who was she supposed to look at?

“Shelby,” Toni squeezed her hand.

Shelby looked at her, “Yeah?”

“Dot asked you about your haircut,” Toni said.

Shelby had shaved it so the bugs that had woken her up wouldn’t get caught in it. She told the nurse it was a new look.

“Oh,” Shelby said. She kept her eyes on Toni. “You like it?”

Toni smiled. “Fuck yeah. It’s really you, you know?”

A heat rose to Shelby’s cheeks. It hadn’t been, before Toni said it, but there was a look in her eyes, and in an instant it was the truest thing there ever was. Toni was always able to see beneath the bullshit and—and she did look real in a way she never had with the haircut. She felt like she had nothing to hide. Not anymore.

“Yeah dude,” Dot added. “You look badass.”

“Thanks,” Shelby said. “How are—how are you two doing?”

“We’re okay,” Dot said. “Glad to see your ugly face again.”

“When you didn’t show up after the—after that stupid fucking plan—“ toni looked away. “I was worried.”

“Show up?” Toni asked.

“Yeah the—they let us all hang out, a week or so after Leah tried to escape,” Toni said. “They told us you were recovering but…”

“No it was just—it was just a punishment,” Shelby said. She tried to think. “Wait, what—what day is it?”

“November fifteenth,” Dot said. “You and Toni missed couples costumes for halloween.”

“Shut up,” Toni told her and “Shelby, are you okay?”

Oh, her fingernails had been digging into Toni’s hand. “Sorry.” She had been alone for months. Months.

Hadn’t been that bad, could barely remember it.

Difficulty forming new memories is an unfortunate side effect of solitary confinement.

Months of her life. Months.

Toni stood over her, saying something in garbled English. Shelby tried to focus on her, and decided it wasn’t quite worth it and that she’d prefer to pass out. She was tired from passing out earlier, anyway.

Toni didn’t let her, forcing her to breathe in and out, keeping her eyes focused and steady until the pounding of the ocean receding into the same dull pain she was used to preceding migraines.

Toni kissed her forehead, and her cheek is warm and damp from tears. She dragged a chair and settled beside Shelby, so they were on equal ground. Dot was no longer in the room, and Shelby tried to figure out if she left while Shelby was suffocating or after, and how long Shelby’d been dying with Toni trying to reteach her how to breathe.

They’d been separated for months, the two of them. Were they still—this was embarrassing right? Sobbing and dying in front of the girl you liked. Shelby was pretty sure they had said I love you but she was accounting for the months of separation.

“Nothing else is gonna happen,” Toni told her. She pressed a kiss to Shelby’s hand. “Fatin’s gonna buy us a big ass house with her one-percenter money, we’re gonna get our GEDs and maybe go to college, and we’re gonna sleep on a bed not made of sticks together. Every single night until we die.”

Shelby closed her eyes, nodding. “Hold me to it?”

“I won’t do anything else.”

[votederpycausemufins]

and you thought we would have less angst~! lol nope!

@petrichormeraki @helleborusangel 

Grifter left briefly and returned with Sefter and Grifect, taking them over to where Grian and Mumbo had taken Jrum. “Oh I had the best idea! Since you have your kids and Sense and I have ours, they could be best friends! I’m sure they can get along great!”

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea right now.” Mumbo said, keeping Jrum close to him. “Jrum is very vulnerable right now and-”

“I kinda do want to play.” Jurm spoke up, tugging on Mumbo’s pant leg. “It was something nice I got to do when I was with d- uh… Bad.”

Mumbo hesitated, but then nodded. “I guess it probably wouldn’t hurt. But if anything happens to Jrum-!”

“Oh calm down, I won’t do anything to him.” Grifter replied. “Besides, I’m sure he wouldn’t let me.” And he pointed behind him to a doorway where Xannes was just coming in, followed by NPG.

“Jrum’s okay!” NPG smiled, before moving behind Xannes when he locked eyes with Grifter, the hels admin crossing his arms.

“You’re out of prison.”

Grifter smiled and pulled himself close to Sense. “Of course. Wouldn’t want to leave this hot stud alone for too long, now would I?”

“Well, You’ve had time with him, now it’s time for you to go back.”

Grifter pouted. “But my kids are having a playdate with Jrum. You wouldn’t want to upset a child, would you?” Grifter’s pout turned into a sly smile and he moved closer to whisper to Xannes. “And Sense has said you’re such a softie when it comes to kids. Before you can do anything to me, I could do whatever I want to that robot. I could create a fun little feedback loop and break them like that. And you couldn’t do anything about it because you decided NPG is better to protect, hmm?”

Xannes wasn’t sure what to say that wouldn’t cause some problem, so he just glared. Grifter’s evil smile quickly turned to one that was much sweeter, and he pulled Grifect over, letting the child talk to Xannes. “Hi Mistew Xannes! Awe uwu weawwy the best hackew evew?”

“I… am known as the best hacker, yes.” Xannes gritted out after another smirk from Grifter.

“Wow! Thawt's so coow! Cawn uwu teach me how tuwu duwu stuff wike thawt?”

“Don’t you want to play with… whatever Jrum would be considered to you? Cousin or some shit?”

“Yeah! But cawn uwu teach me watew?”

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” Xannes growled, rolling his eyes. Grifect went back over to Jrum and Grifter tried pushing Sefter to play as well, but the older sibling refused to join in.

“Hmm, it looks like Sefter doesn’t want to play. I guess I should take him back to Prof. Sense, you can watch Grifect, right dear?” The evil scientist nodded and Grifter gave him a kiss. “Now Grifect, remember what I told you.”

“I wemembew!” The young bot replied, getting a pat on his head from his dad. Grifter left with Sefter after that, but Grian and Mumbo watcher where they had been.

“You’ve got a bad feeling about that too, right?”

Mumbo nodded. “After what we’ve heard about him, of course I do.”

.

.

.

Sefter twirled a sword in one hand while holding an axe in the other. Behind him, Tommy was tied up and stuffed in a large chest, muffled sounds being the only thing to escape the box. 

On the other side of the room, Grifter dragged Grum along, who was doing his best to resist. “P-please. I d-don’t w-want to g-go.”

“I don’t care! I need you for this, so you’re coming with me. No one will even notice!”

“N-no. I w-want to s-stay with T-Tommy. P-Please!”

“Stop complaining or I’ll rewire you for what I need. I’m sure it can’t be much worse than a lobotomy.” Grifter threatened in a cheerful voice. “Now let’s go!”

Grum was scared by the threat and then stopped resisting. Grifter found it much easier to move the robot now, though the screen changing to a smiley face confused him. He hefted the bot onto his shoulder, quickly sent a message to Grifect, and then they were gone.

The_Grifter left the world

Sefter left the world

The_Grifter joined the world

Grumbot_System joined the world

When they arrived in the SMP, Grumbot jumped off of Grifter’s shoulder and pulled out a sword. “Alright, I’m guessing that means you can also find Theseus from here, right?”

“Theseus is likely to be with the admin. The admin also has a needed item. That item must be retrieved.”

“Good.” Grifter smiled. “Take us there!”

Grumbot hesitated, buffering for a few moments. “Console commands have been disabled. Locating Theseus is not available. Reinstate programs before trying again.”

“Ugh, well how do I do that?” Grifter huffed, smiled gone. 

Coordinates appeared on Grumbot’s face for a few moments before it spoke again. “If it has not been moved, those should be the coordinates. There will be people around it.”

“And they know my ‘good’ copy?” Grifter asked, using air quotes.

“Correct.”

Grifter sighed and pulled on his new outfit, replacing it with a standard red sweater. He cleaned up his hair a bit, resisting the urge to mess it up again and then showed himself off. “How do I look?”

“You look like bzzt.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Grifter asked. Had the robot just censored a word. “I look like what?!”

“Was that not the goal? To look like bzzt? You did change into what looks like bzzt sweater.”

Grifter calmed down. “Oh, you were trying to say Grian’s name hmm? And people say I’m the bad one. He won’t let you say his name.”

“Incorrect. That is a recent addition as protection against the Admin and Dream.”

That got Grifter’s attention. “Oh really? So it’s something you’re doing on purpose?”

“Also incorrect. It has not been turned off and knowledge about the program is recent. It also cannot currently be turned off.” Grumbot explained in a deadpan voice, starting to walk to the quartz mansion, leaving Grifter to follow behind.

“Well now I’m curious. Why can’t you turn it off?”

“Another component controls that program.”

“Hmm, I see.” The helsmit nodded. “So, where are we headed?” He paused as Grumbot pointed to a building in the distance, far enough that Grifter needed to squint. “Over there? Pfft, why walk. I can get us there quicker.”

He grabbed Grumbot, and greenish magic swirled around them, teleporting them next to the building. “If you are attempting to mimic bzzt, that is not helpful for the image.”

“Pfft, it’s fine. No one saw. And if they did, I would deal with it. Now let’s go inside. I already know what I’m going with. Oh, and you better play along, or else.”

Grumbot nodded, making Grifter frown about that fact that it didn’t seem even a little scared from his threat. The helsmit picked Grumbot up before walking into the building, putting on a smile. “Hey, we’re back. Mumbo’s still back in Hermitcraft with Jrum keeping Tommy company.”

“Did you not figure out how to help him out? His body’s still here and obviously he didn’t come with you.” Philza spoke, having returned and Techno gone once again.

The helsmit didn’t need to worry about figuring out an answer because Grumbot quickly answered. “The revival process for those from this world requires an extra step in the form of an item that the admin was in possession of. He will need to be found.”

Those there glanced at each other, which obviously didn’t mean anything good. “What’s wrong?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. Fundy held out his communicator, letting Grifter look at it before showing Grumbot. Grifter held in a smile when he saw that Theseus was here, and it looked like his old admin was here too. The errored message was interesting though.

“Obviously it isn’t good news. Dream was bad enough, I don’t want to see what an evil version of him is like. Unless of course it’s an opposite version and he’s nicer.” Phil spoke again.

“From what I’ve heard? He’s not really that nice.” Grifter replied. Not nice to most people that is, at the very least. But he wondered if this Nightmare person would want to be on the good side of a Listener. In fact, he had already lost his server, hadn’t he? So what more could he possibly lose from some sort of partnership. “And while it probably isn’t a good idea to go near him, it looks like we’ll have to.”

“I’m not sure how long it would take to gather people up to help with that.” The hardcore player said. “A lot of people are still injured from the banquet and-”

Grifter cut Philza off. Grian would probably be concerned for his faaamily~. Ugh. “I’m sure I can do fine on my own. Even an admin can’t do much against a Watcher. And while extra help would be nice, you getting close could just end up being more harm than good if you end up in the crossfire. I don’t want to need to revive anyone else just trying to get this thing.”

“He will also be getting some assistance already.” Grumbot spoke up, and Grifter held in the urge to roll his eyes. 

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea.” Grifter tried his best to sound genuine. He’s pretty sure calling the robot by its name would be more effective, but to be completely honest, he had forgotten it at this point.

“There is to be no discussion on this matter. You will be getting assistance.” Grumbot replied, pulling out an axe. “And the sooner travel is started towards the new admin, the better.”

Grifter looked over the people in the room. Obviously getting Philza to look after the robot wouldn’t be a good idea. Even if he wasn’t like his own dad, the helsmit was sure he would be equally as experienced. The demon was off the table too. No way the robot would escape from that. The enderman thing could just teleport around.The fox hybrid might also be too quick on the draw, though he did look young. But no, the fluffy haired boy with little nubs of horns poking out, he seemed like the best option.  He even already had a kid attached at his leg, so adding another would make things tougher on him.

Grifter took Grumbot over to Tubbo and put the robot in the teen’s arms. “Here, try to keep him occupied. I’m sure those two could even play together.” Though Grumbot didn’t react, it looked like the ziglin liked that idea, making it even more likely for the teen to respond positively. And that he did.

The helsmit sent a little wink to Grumbot before giving it a hug and leaving the building. As soon as he was outside, Grifter leaned against a wall and waited for the robot to come out. In a few seconds, there was a commotion from inside and then Grumbot rushed out of the building. Grifter immediately pulled the robot into his arms and teleported them away before anyone could follow outside. “I’m hoping you got what you needed?”

“That could not be obtained.”

“Well then what the fuck was all that noise?”

“Attempting to reconnect programs followed by a necessary escape.”

“Ugh, well I’m sure everyone’s out looking for you now. I’ll take us back and you can do whatever the hell you need to.”

“That would be a good idea.”

Grifter teleported them back. The Fox hybrid unfortunately stayed behind, but the helsmit quickly bashed him over the head, letting him fall to the floor unconscious. “Hmm, I think I could have gone a little harder without killing him. Normally there’s more blood. Maybe I’m just out of practice?”

Grumbot didn’t respond to the banter, just staring at the replacement console. It didn’t need all the programs, but it would be so easy to just add them all back. Its arm reached to plug itself in, but the other arm’s hand stopped the first. Its screen flickered for a moment, and then it released its arm and plugged in. Just a copy of the coordinated program. That’s all that was needed.

When Grumbot unplugged again, Grifter picked it up. “I’m guessing that means you’re ready. Where are we headed to?”

Coordinates appeared on Grumbot’s screen and Grifter smiled before teleporting them there. They reappeared in a large field of snow, the helsmit glad he had changed back into a sweater. “You’re not going to freeze in this, right?”

“Correct.”

Grifter nodded and then looked around. “I’m not seeing them. Are you sure these are the right coordinates?”

“The coordinates were altered slightly based on movement, positioning and terrain. They will be four chunks in that direction in a number of ticks.” Grumbot answered, pointing towards a hill.

“Alright, sounds good enough!” Grifter shrugged and then started dragging Grumbot along in the pointed direction. When they reached the top of the hill, the helsmit looked around, smiling when he saw the people he was looking for. Theseus was following behind what was presumably Nightmare. Then the helsmit’s gaze drifted to a few blocks behind them and the extra set of footprints following the pair. It looked like someone was using an invisibility potion.

Grifter pulled out a bow and arrow, attaching his signature TNT to the end of his arrow, and then fired it so it would land in front of the pair. Not enough to hurt either of them, but enough to startle them at the very least.

When it exploded, Grifter teleported closer, leaving Grumbot behind. “Hi there. I don’t really want you going much further.”

“Who the hell are you?” Nightmare spoke as Theseus glared.

“Mmm… I’m sure you’ve heard of me. I’m a Listener. Grifter to be precise. I’m sure Theseus has talked about his much better older brother. If not, well I guess he’s just more of a little shit than I thought.”

“Nope, he never mentioned you. But I’ve heard of your kind.”

“Aww, that’s too bad.” Grifter pouted, pulling back another arrow and firing it at the invisible figure. “Anyway, nasty tail you’ve got there.”

Nightmare and Theseus turned around to see an arrow floating in midair, footprints being created in the snow with nothing visible making them. Immediately the invisible figure was pulling armor on, ready to fight. “Thanks for the tip.”

“Anytime! Anyway, I need Theseus. Apparently Dadza really likes him still and is upset he’s gone. I wouldn’t do anything, but he kinda cursed someone that I actually care about, so if I don’t do this, it’ll end badly for me.”

“Well tell him Theseus is staying with me. There’s still some training he never finished.”

Grifter’s eyes lit up briefly and the implications, but he still frowned. “Can I at least have him long enough to take back to Dadza? It’ll take five minutes, ten tops. If he doesn’t let me bring bitch boy back, I can just try killing him.”

“Try killing death?” Nightmare asked, sounding skeptical.

Grifter nodded. “Yeah, we’re pretty sure I’m the only one who can actually do it. It’s why people really prefer being on my side.” The helsmit’s smile shifted to something darker. “Which is why you should probably… you know… Listen. Besides, being on my side has plenty of perks!”

Grifter couldn’t see Nightmare’s expression because of his mask, but eventually he nodded. “Fine. But you better be back before those ten minutes.”

Grifter nodded, giving a beaming smile before grabbing Theseus and disappearing. Nightmare put his arms behind his head, acting bored, before pulling out an axe and shield at the last second, blocking an attack. “I know you’re still here idiot.”

The invisible figure didn’t respond, so Nightmare just threw their axe at the person, the blade digging into the armor, deep enough to break through it. “I guess the durability was low.” Was all Nightmare said as he popped his arm back into place, having dislocated from the amount of force he used in the attack. “So, got a na-” Nightmare continued before being cut off as he was grabbed from behind.

“You are in the possession of a needed item. It must be handed over.”

“And what are you supposed to be?”

Grumbot buffered for a moment before answering. “Console. The admin used a console for various jobs before he was taken away and replaced by you. You likely still have an Item needed for the revival process of this world in your possession. The surrendering of that item would be appreciated.”

Nightmare kicked Grumbot away. “Not a chance.” He then pulled out a sword, hitting away the invisible figure. “Not like I can do it with this person fighting me.”

“Then they will be eliminated.” Grumbot replied, booting up its combat program. It pulled out a sword, ready to attack, but then was pushed to the ground.

“Nah, you might be useful later. Get out of the way.” Nightmare said before pulling out a trident and stabbing it into the ground, impaling Grumbot’s arm and nailing it to the ground.

As Nightmare and the invisible person fought, Grumbot looked at the trident. Fortunately it only injured one arm, and as a robot, it was ambidextrous. It pulled the trident out and held it in its hand. With the combat program active, Grumbot angled the throw, adjusting for movement from the other combat, and then threw the weapon.

In a moment, Nightmare was the one stuck to the ground. The invisible person tried to take advantage of the situation, but Grumbot managed to push them aside. The face flickered and then changed to its normal self, though even then it still flickered a bit. “Look, I’m just after my book. Give it here and you can be on your way.”

No one moved, Nightmare wasn’t even struggling, so Grum pressed his foot into Nightmare’s chest. “Give it up, or we could just stay here.”

“Who are you?”

“I think you know.”

There was quiet for a bit, but then Nightmare pulled out a book. “Fine, but I’ll be getting answers.”

“No you won’t.” And Grum pulled the trident out again before smashing it down on Nightmare’s face, shattering the mask he wore before the body disappeared into a cloud of smoke. Immediately Grum closed his combat program and curled into a ball. He started crying at what had just happened, everything quickly catching up with him. But the danger was gone now, right?

The sound of armor moving drew Grum’s attention to the now formerly invisible person, the piglin now looking down at Grum. The bot immediately regretted closing his combat program and tried to boot it up again, shakily drawing his sword. He didn’t want to die again, especially now he had the- the book! Grum dropped his sword and grabbed the book, shoving it into one of his extra inventory slots. It was just in time too as Techno grabbed him.

“D-d-don’t kuh-kill m-me ple-please!” Grum stuttered out. He was lifted up, which he thought was a curious way to kill him, but he also didn’t expect fireworks as a weapon, so anything was on the table with him. 

Instead, Techno just moved Grum onto his back before leaning down and grabbing the dropped sword. “Already made the mistake of killing you once. Besides, you’ll get rid of my ghost problem.” And then he started walking. Grum was still a bit scared of getting killed, thinking the piglin could be lying, but he was also tired. He was glad he still had the trident, which was channeling at the very least, so he wouldn’t necessarily need his charger, but conserving power would be good right now, so he went to sleep.

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

What a Time to be Alive - Diego Hargreeves x Reader

Chapter 2- The Frankel Footage

Summary: After receiving a surprise visit from Five, you quit your bar tending job, quickly followed him to find Diego, and then broke Diego out of the mental hospital all in one day. Now you, Diego, and Lila, are free and ready to tackle whatever new problem awaits.

If anyone else wants tagged just hit me up.      Tagged: @white-wolf-buckaroo

You three ran for a couple blocks out of sight and away from any nosy law enforcement officers and their annoying sirens. Through back ally’s and down side streets, until you came upon a cluster of parked cars. Where you three hid behind trying not to be seen.

“This way” Diego whispers while getting up to race across the street, you and Lila trailing after him.

Hiding behind an apartment building, you and Lila look back from where you just came. “All right, we can’t stay here for too long. They’re gonna be looking for us.” Diego quietly warns.

“The cops or those large Scandinavian fellas” Lila asks, still on lookout.

“Both” you say quickly, turning to follow Diego’s lead.

He suddenly jumps up on a dumpster then on top of an outhouse type building. “D, what are you doing?” You ask confused, not quite catching onto his plans just yet.

Grabbing clothes off the line and throwing them to you, he replies, “Me and you aren’t gonna get very far dressed like a lobotomy case.”

“Fair point”

“Hey what about me?” Asks Lila, as Diego jumps down off of the small shed, walking back over to the two of you, and quickly throwing her some clothes in the process.

Diego turns around while taking off his shirt, “Look, I appreciate your help, but now we...” He points to you for a second, who’s changing into a different shirt, from the previous hospital staff attire. “Go our separate ways.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re gonna be looking for us, together. You stand a better chance on your own.”

“What, you guys need me, we could make a good team, I don’t mind third wheeling.”

“No”

“Okay did you forget how great I am at causing distractions, or sneaking in small weapons, or when I saved your ass when...” Police sirens begin shouting through the air, cutting her off mid-sentence, catching all of your attentions with it. Sending a surge of panic through you, there was no way in hell were you getting caught.

“Oh shit” Lila whispers, turning to abruptly dodge under a car and out of sight like a literal ninja, who is this strange woman?

Looking at Diego you happen to spot a hiding place behind a small pillar of bricks. Grabbing his arms once again, you pull him with you towards the spot, hugging him tightly as you look over his shoulder. Hearing the whrr of a siren, you listen and watch as the cop car rolls past, agonizingly slow. Looking up at him once again, you can’t help but notice the close proximity between the two of you, your face breaks out into a large grin. Relishing in the contact that you’ve been so deeply deprived of.

“Is that a knife in your pants or are you just happy to see me?” You ask while flashing him a cheeky smile.

“Why are you like this?” He whispers grinning back down at you, amused at your never ending ability to joke around at the most inappropriate times.

“Hey guys, let’s take my car.” Lila says, while eyeing up one of the parked on the street.

Looking back into Diego’s dark eyes, you swiftly catch his lips with yours, not being able hold yourself back anymore. He tenses for a split second before he melts into you, relaxing completely. The kiss is sweet, hungry, and full of longing. You can both tell how much you’ve truly missed each other.

Breaking away, Diego follows your lips, disappointed in such a small intimate moment being ruined. “We gotta go, our getaway driver is here.” You beam, satisfied with what you could get.

Jumping into the stolen car, you take the passenger seat making Diego sit in the back.

“Let’s roll kids” Lila says grinning, as she hastily backs out of the parking spot.

——

After sleeping in the front seat next to Lila, and Diego grumpily trying to find a comfy position in the back. You three made it through the night and are now currently up and ready to roll. Diego in the passenger seat now, with you at the wheel and Lila in the back. Parked in front of some library that Diego insisted on going to you as you could only assume it had to do with the president, most likely.

“All right, here’s the plan: Oswald finishes his shift at 4:30 p.m. Once he walks out those doors, we force him into the front seat.” Diego tells you, while looking out the window intensely.

“I’m in the front seat” You reply while looking out at some birds eating something in the grass.

“Okay, fine. In the back seat.”

“I’m in the back seat.” Lila says, also unimpressed by Diego’s plan. She makes knowing eye contact with you in the mirror.

“Okay in the trunk, Y/N is gonna pin his arms, I’m gonna cut off his trigger finger and tell him he has 24 hours to exit Dallas.”

“That’s your plan?” Lila asks. Sharing another glance with you.

“You got a problem with it?” He questions sassily.

“Why don’t we just kill him” You say with a casual shrug.

“What?

“I agree with Y/N, I mean, you think he’s gonna shoot the president right?”

“Right”

“Fine, so we kill him. Put a bullet between his eyes.” She says, as you make a finger gun and a boom sound. “Problem solved”

“No, no, no, we’re not going to kill a man before he’s committed a crime.” He says, annoyed.

“That’s stupid” She retorts back, tired of Diego’s dumb idea already.

“Excuse me?”

“In fact, your whole plan is stupid. What, chopping off a guys finger?” She smiles amused.

“No, it’s not just any finger, it’s his trigger finger, all right. You can’t shoot a gun without a trigger finger.” He says defensively.

“What if he’s ambidextrous?” You ask, egging him on.

Diego looks at you in defeat at both of yours and Lila’s points. She finally says, “How do you get through a day?

“Both of you get out. I can do this on my own.” He grumbles quickly.

“Dr. Moncton was right, this hero complex is no joke. I mean, Y/N how do you even put up with his shit.” She wonders turning to you.

“Don’t answer that. This is not what this is about.” He’s says, you laughing at his sour mood and Lila’s call out.

“D, she makes a compelling argument.”

Nodding at you she quips back, “Of course it is, you want to prove to Daddy that you’re a big success.” She says, realization clear on her features.

Snorting you raise your eyebrows at Diego, who says, “No, out of the three of us, you don’t know anything about me, Lila.”

“I don’t have to be Y/N to know anything about you. You are an open book written for very dumb children.” She says matter-of-factly.

Holding in laughter you face away from Diego, as you peer out the window so he won’t see the amusement clear on your face.

You love Diego, and fight crime with Diego, but you don’t do it out of a hero complex like he does. You do it because it’s fun and it helps people sometimes. You’ve never seeked it out in the way that he did, like buying a patrol caller, walking into crime scenes to gather information, and continuously wearing that stupidly adorable childhood domino mask. You prefer to stay in the shadows and hunt down rapists and human traffickers when the opportunity arises. So yeah, Lila calling out Diego on his shit, that he doesn’t realize is his shit, does entertain you.

“I’m not. Trying. To. Be A. Hero, okay!” He says slowly with frustration lacing his voice, like we can’t understand him.

“Then why are we doing this?” You reply facing him again. All of a sudden Five appears in the back seat next to Lila, who screams and backs away. Clearly not expecting a 13 year old boy to just teleport randomly into the car.

“Because he’s an idiot” Five replies smartly, with a smug grin on his young face.

Calming down again she looks at Five confused, “Who the hell are you, I mean Diego did tell me Y/N is kinda like a vampire but not really a vampire, so?”

Giving Diego your what-the-fuck-did-you-tell-her-about-me face, he briefly grins at you when Five answers her, “Hi. I’m his loving brother.”

“Who left me to rot in a nut house.”

“To protect you from yourself.”

“That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to him, I’m gonna cry.” You reply, while wiping a fake tear away.

Rolling his eyes Diego points to the three of you, “Okay, all of you, out.” Diego says done with all of your shit.

“Lose the crazy lady, you two are coming with me. We have important business.” Five says frustrated.

Diego turns to look out the front window. “I am not going anywhere with you.”

Looking out the window, Five spots a security guard walking down the street. “Okay, fine.”

Not buying into Five’s surrender, you follow his gaze seeing the officer walking away from all of you. With a big smile plastered on his face, Five takes this moment of improvisation to call out loudly. “Officer!”

“Hey!” Diego snaps, reaching past you in record time, silencing Five by grabbing his jacket. “What are you doing?”

Grinning like the little shit he is, Five answers sassily, “I hear there’s a reward out for you two, and an unidentified jailbreaker accomplice last seen helping two patients escape.”

“He’s bluffing.” Lila says.

Watching the intense stare down between the two of them you reply, “He’s not.” Knowing better then to doubt Five. Cause let’s be honest he would watch you get arrested for fun any day of the week.

“Fine. We’ll go with you.” He says defeated yet again.

“What about me?” Lila asks.

“She yells at Diego when he’s being an idiot, crazy lady can come too.” You tell them while nodding to her.

“You yell at me when I’m being an idiot too, Y/N.” Diego remarks bluntly.

“That’s fair. But I feel like she’s good at playing eye spy, and you’re definitely not. You have no patience, I swear.”

“I don’t know what I just got myself into but I’m glad I met you guys.” Lila exclaims enthusiastically, pleased at your positive answer.

--

A short drive later, you, Diego, Five and Lila begin walking up the steps into Five’s new friends building. Not being overly impressed by much and concerned for this mans mental well being at the fact that he’s Five’s so-called “friend”, you keep walking as Five leads you three up the stairs. When you reach the top, you hear footsteps and the sound of a gun click. Glancing up, you observe a scrawny looking man with confusion and fight in his eyes. He starts to speak all stressed out and loud, barking at you four. “Where did you get the film? The Frankel Footage. The truth this time.” He demands while still holding up the gun at the four of you. Oh yeah, this is Five’s new friend? Seems about right.

“You know this lunatic?” Diego wonders at Five.

“God, his hearts beating so loud, I’m gonna have a headache.” You groan, this guy is on full adrenaline, jeesh.

Five sighs, “New acquaintance. He’s harmless.”

“Are you sure about that?” Lila asks, puzzled.

Without warning this new friend of Five’s starts to yell, sounding like an off cord scratchy violin in your hyper sensitive ears. A quiet room with sudden loud noises makes your hearing extra perceptive. It’s not exactly a beneficial attribute to have at the moment.

“Are you or are you not an enemy of the people?!”

Giving you a precious moment of peace, Diego answers back. “Such an open-ended question, yeah.”

“Really depends on the people.” Adds Five calmly.

Raising the gun up higher the angry guy speaks again, less loud this time. “You move one more muscle, I will blow y’alls brains out.”

“Yeah good luck with that, you’ll deeply regret it in a couple seconds.” You tell him bluntly as he gives you a weird look.

“You want to take this or should I?” Diego asks Five. Always ready to throw hands at any given moment.

“No, I got him.” He replies with apprehensive determination.

An abrupt flash later, Five is in front of the mysteriously angry gunman. Grabbing the gun and pushing the barrel upward where it then goes off. Shooting a bullet into the ceiling. And sending a symphony of booming racket directly into your ears.

“Fucking hell” You mumble while pursing your lips together as the pain in your ears wears off.

Looking back up, you watch as Diego unloads the gun and the crazy southern guy looks at everyone in confusion.

“What the hell just happened?” Lila asks with an amused smile, clearly not expecting anything more weird to take place again.

——

After the fun little greeting Elliot gave you, you and Diego tied him up, you know just normal couple things. So Five could play some home movies, or in other words that Frankel Footage Elliot was yapping about earlier. Leaving him in a dentist’s chair, Lila sat down and started to paint his toe nails some kind of green color. While Five was playing the old film footage, Diego sat on a counter to his left, knees up and knife in one hand. Meanwhile you sat cross legged on the same counter near his shoes leaning your right knee on Diego’s bent legs.

“I love old couples. I’m always so proud of them for not murdering each other.” She says randomly.

“Why are we watching this?” Diego suddenly asks Five, who’s intensely focused on the footage. “Shush” He’s tells him, hyper focused on the projection screen.

The people on the screen begin talking about who they are and where they happen to be at the moment. Dallas, Texas. November 22, 1963. Oh, shit. You think, knowing exactly where this specific moment is going to lead.

Leaning in closer Diego says, “This is it. The grassy knoll. Kennedy’s about to get shot. How do you have this?” He quickly questions Five.

“Hazel died to get me this footage. It must be the key to stopping doomsday.”

“Hazel?” You ask curiously, remembering the masked guy who shanked you with an old iron antique boat when you first met him and Cha Cha shooting up the Umbrella Academy. Damn, he’s already dead.

“Long story.”

“What’s doomsday?” Wonders Lila in confusion.

“Longer story.”

“What exactly did he say to you?” Diego questions in bewilderment.

“Well, he was killed before he could explain. But whatever he wanted us to see, it’s on this film.” He answers earnestly.

Without warning, gunshots go off in the background, signaling that President Kennedy's been shot. All of you watch closer with wide eyes as you three try to spot what Hazel was talking about. Five rewinds the tape for better inspection, moving around to slide the projector back. Giving everyone a better view to watch the footage. “It can’t be.” He says astonished.

“Okay, you guys gonna fill me in now? What the hell is this shit we’re watching?” Demands Lila, weirded out by how the three of you are acting towards this random footage.

Standing up and walking closer to the screen, you, Diego, and Five look on in stunned shock, spotting him. “What the fuck?” You say perplexed.

“No, that’s impossible.” 

“Clearly, it’s not.” Mutters Five.

From behind you three, you hear the muffled voice of Elliot. “What...what is it?”

“Dad” Diego and Five whisper dumbfounded. You only look on in deep thought. How could he have been there, and what the hell was old Reggie doing there in the first place?

——

“Of course Dad would be involved in the assassination. I should have know.”

“No, you’re jumping to conclusions.” Replies Five, while pacing back and forth.

“It’s a bit of a stretch, Diego.” You tell him shrugging.

“What else is he doing standing on the grassy knoll, holding an open umbrella on a sunny day in Dallas the exact same moment the president gets shot?!” Diego yells back at the two of you.

“It doesn’t look good, I admit.” Replies Five.

“No, he’s the signalman for the whole goddamn thing.” He says convincing himself.

“Easy Diego. Seriously.”

“No, it makes sense. This is what Hazel was obviously trying to tell you.” Diego says looking intently at Five. “We have to stop Dad from killing the president.”

“Diego, calm down, all right. Dad was no Boy Scout, but presidential assassination? It’s never been his thing.” Five argues, and you’d have to agree, Diego’s truly jumping ahead of himself.

“How would you know? You skipped out on his golden years.” Diego snaps back.

“Skipped out?” Five scoffed stepping closer, “You think I had it easy, Diego? I was alone for 45 years.” Deciding he’d had enough of Diego’s dad and killing the president shit, Five growls back at Diego. “You know what? We don’t have time for this right now. Dads clearly in Dallas, right? Let’s just go talk to him. Maybe he can help fix the timeline.” He ends with, walking around the room.

“Dallas is a big place. We need to find him first.” Diego replies bluntly.

“Gee, if only we had some magical, old times way of finding people and their addresses.” Five sasses back while putting his hands on his small hips.

“Alright smart-ass, I’ll find the phone book.” You quip, getting up off the counter and walking towards Elliot’s office. Finding the thing laying under a couple of papers and a stapler, you grab it and set it down on the nearby desktop.

“Let’s start simple. His name.” Five says as Diego reads off the names in the H section. “Shit, nothing here.”

“Try his company, what was it Five?” You ask while standing behind them.

“D.S. Umbrella Manufacturing Co.” Five says without missing a beat.

“Yeah, I know the name. Thanks.” Diego replies sarcastically. Continuing his search by flipping through the pages. “Uh....Holy shit. D.S. Umbrella.” He looks at Five surprised, “Eighty-two Olive. Let’s go.” He says, shutting the phone book.

Pulling up the white film screen and walking through the doorway Diego turns to Five. “He okay to leave here like that?” Referring to Elliot who was still tied to the dentist chair.

“Yeah, he’s fine. What about the girl?”

“She’s chilling in the dark room getting some air. So where are we going?” You remark casually.

“The hell is she doing in there, or you?” Diego wonders.

“We were having some quality girl time, nothing you’d be interested in, I promise.” You say winking at him.

———

Pulling up to the building of the hour, you all get out, shutting the doors and walking up to the glass doors. All collectively feeling a bit uneasy about meeting Sir Reginald Hargreeves, that is if he decides to make an appearance or not.

“How long’s it been since you’ve seen the old man?” You ask Five, who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Forty-Five years.”

“That’s a trip.”

“No kidding.” Five sighs, leaning against the brick wall as Diego makes an attempt to lock pick the doors. “You know, when I was stuck out there in the apocalypse, there wasn’t a day that went by where I didn’t hear his voice in my head.”

“What was he saying?” Asked Diego, still fiddling with the lock.

“I told you so.” 

“Well, if Dad’s here, he’s never met you before, so he can’t say, I told you so.” Diego says trying to boost Five’s dampened mood.

“I’m sure he’ll find a way.” Five says while looking back around at the grassy yard. Catching your eye, you nod to him to help Diego out. A flash later and he’s on the other side of the door, unlocking it with ease and letting you two inside. “Right. Gotta remember that” Diego says, clearing his throat, standing up and walking through the now unlocked glass doors. You following right behind him, as Five holds the door open.

Walking fully inside the office building, Five goes to turn on a lamp only for it to flicker off again within seconds of being turned on. “Shit. Guess Dad wasn’t much for home decor.” Says Diego eyeing up the place.

You look around the room yourself, fully taking in your surroundings, as your eyes immediately begin adjusting in the dark room, you’re now able to see everything clearly. Observing the lack of care and vacancy in the area you nod to Five. “This feels more like a front, some kind of decoy maybe?”

“A front for what?” Diego asks, confused.

“Beats me” Replies Five still uneasy about being in here.

“Well, me and Y/N will take the left. Yell if you, uh....get in trouble. Y/N will hear you.” Remarks Diego, swinging the door open.

“Don’t get shot, remember your safety training.” You smirk at Five jokingly, as you walk through the open door that Diego is holding open for you.

“How could I forget.” Fives replies back, slightly amused at your ability to seem calm in a place like this.

Walking down the hallway, Diego opens a door leading into someone’s office. The air smells old and stale to you, clearly no ones actually been in here in quite a while. Diego blows off dust laying lightly on top of a file, who just leaves a random file lying around for anyone to snatch? He starts to flip through it, concentrated on finding a scrap of evidence. When your ears prick up at the sound of light footsteps that apparently Diego can’t hear yet. Then a door opens and the footsteps sound like they’re retreating out the doorway. Diego abruptly looks up at you for reassurance, wanting to know for sure you heard what he just heard too. You nod at him, making your way towards the door to find this mystery person. Diego walks towards the door hot on your heels, catching up and moving past you swiftly. Determined to catch sight of the cryptic individual himself.

Opening the doors, you catch a glimpse of the mystery man briskly walking into the thick foggy night air and out of sight.

“I’ll go after him, you circle around and hopefully catch him off guard if he decides to run.” Telling you the plans, Diego turns ready to catch up with the guy, giving you a flash of a nervous smile before he goes. And then he’s gone, into the fog and out of sight. Yeah fuck that, it’s dark out and this guy could be legitimately dangerous for all you know, idiot. Following behind Diego from a distance were he wouldn’t be able to notice you. Not that it’d be hard anyways, considering you’re kinda a master of stealth yourself.

You climb up into the rafters of this weird barn type building, you hear the faintest sounds of Five yelling for you two from within the office building. As you’re about to jump down to help, you spot Diego walking when another figure drops out of the shadows kicking him in the ribs. Great. Deciding you’d like to sit back and watch for a bit, you climb closer for a better view. Diego then throws a knife and the stranger ducks, completely missing him. “Damn, I bet he’d be fantastic at laser tag.” You mumble letting your intrusive thoughts work their way out subconsciously.

Watching Diego twirl around and make some compelling hits gives you time to get closer and bring yourself nearer to the ground. Incase you needed to lend a hand or two if things got messy. As you finally drop yourself onto the damp floor, you look up to see Diego apparently losing the fight a bit. Getting flipped onto his knees for a second before he runs forward pulling out some type of metal stick from a bunch of wooden crates. Where he then proceeds to backflip off said crates and stick the landing with ease. Show off. He starts swinging it around, advancing on the stranger who’s doing a decent job at holding his own ground.

That is, until the guy looses his dark face-covering, only to reveal, holy shit, the one and only asshole himself, Sir Reginald Hargreeves. Diego must have been just as shocked too, because the next moment you hear a soft “dad” from Diego’s lips. And then Reginald lunges, you see a flash of gold and hide a muffled scream as a small knife plunges into Diego’s side. You hear “amateur” before he turns around and casually walks out of the barn without a single fuck to give.

Gasping you ignore the need to question Sir Reginald, racing over to Diego who’s lying on the floor wide eyed in bewilderment as to what just unfolded a couple seconds ago.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, Diego what the fuck!?” You say panicked, ripping your thin jacket off and covering his stab wound with it.

Moaning in pain he looks at you. “I should have let you take him.” He whispers tiredly.

“Shut up I know, FIVE get the fuck over here!” You scream in a desperate panic.

Teleporting to you, he looks down surprised. “Jesus Diego I leave you alone for 5 minutes and this is what happens.” He says bluntly while shaking his head.

“Just go get the car.” You growl at him, while pressing the fabric into Diego's side to help stop the bleeding.

[theres-no-protocol-for-this]

Connectivity

My one-shot has become a two-shot somehow. So here’s the continuation of yesterday’s ‘humans adopt a CombatUnit’ story. You can read the first part here.

(Cass)

"Shit, Kris, it's basically a toddler." I sucked in a breath and muttered curses at deities unknown.

Our newly adopted CombatUnit sat in the co-pilot's chair, eyes closed. It remained aware of the world around it, tensing when Kris accidentally dropped a wrench, but it no longer responded to our voices in any meaningful way. Its brainwaves looked like spaghetti, and the rest of its vital signs didn't fare much better.

I pulled up one of the modular cushion chairs and sat down next to the construct. I touched its chest through the blanket, and when it didn't startle or pull away, I rubbed large, slow circles across its chest. That seemed to calm to the Unit, though it still occasionally tried to break free of its restraints.

Watching it struggle broke my heart.

Serenity worked overtime to establish some kind of connection between my augments and the construct, which would hopefully resemble the brainwave patterns and data flow of a handler and stabilize the Unit. It was a hack job with a high probability of failure, but it was still better than letting the construct suffer.

Kris leaned over my shoulder like an asshole and peered at the SecUnit. "What do you mean?"

"I mean it was manufactured less than three years ago."

"Deity! Why the hell was it out there by itself, then?"

I shrugged and gestured at the news feed with my free hand. "Your guess is as good as mine."

A moment later, Serenity notified me that the connection framework was in place and my augments were functioning within reasonable limits. We'd see how long that lasted, but for now they wouldn't fry me or the SecUnit.

"All right, show time." I looked up at Kris. "If anything happens, Sere can disconnect us. But give it a few moments before panicking, all right? This is all jury-rigged, so it might take time for everything to kick in."

Kris pulled back and stared at me. "You're doing something dangerously stupid for a machine, love. This could give you a permanent lobotomy or a heart attack." He frowned and stuck his hands in his pockets. "Bringing this thing on board was a terrible idea."

I kept my voice low, but anger simmered under the surface. "So what was the alternative? Leaving it out there to die?"

"You know what I meant, Cass."

I thought I knew what he meant, but before I could say anything else, the world briefly fell away in a shower of sparks. My augments logged so many error messages at once that the log filled up instantaneously, but they managed to achieve calibration, and suddenly I was aware of another mind existing alongside my own.

The sensation was uncomfortable but mercifully brief.

Unlike me, the CombatUnit had all the appropriate wiring for a brain-to-brain connection, and it was designed specifically with a handler in mind. So, it had less trouble accepting the connection or responding to Serenity's commands to align itself with me.

I felt its fear and confusion and loneliness.

"Shh," I whispered, hopefully out loud. "It's all right. You're safe. You're aboard Serenity. Do you remember what happened?"

The construct blinked a few times before its eyes focused on me. Waves and waves of raw data — information about previous missions, vital signs, other statistics, and outputs from its diagnostics and governor module — flooded into my system. I backburnered all of it because I'm only human, and I would need time to review the data.

Lots of time I didn't have.

"Was that the answer to my question?"

The construct nodded.

Meanwhile, Serenity began parsing the vast amounts of data provided by the Unit. The ship's bot wasn't sentient by any stretch of the imagination, but it had enough pattern-matching and data-crunching modules that it put humans to shame.

A message from the ship popped up on my heads-up display, complete with a timer and dozens of lines of code I couldn't parse. The Combat SecUnit has relayed a concern regarding its continued functionality. There appears to be a countdown to its termination. Connecting to your augments has halted the countdown for an unknown amount of time.

"What? What? What the actual fuck?"

Brow furrowed, I stared at the results scrolling across my display surface and couldn't make heads or tails of them. I know how to repair a ship, not how to mind-meld with a human-bot hybrid created by some corporation with a negative amount of morals.

Kris joined in a shared workspace and also perused through the documents. "I've heard of this," he explained after seeing my stricken expression. "SecUnits have distance limits, I think. If they get too far from their clients, they governor module fries their brains."

"I didn't want to know that, but keep going anyway. How much worse could it be?"

My companion chuckled darkly. "It looks like the Combat models don't have a distance-to-client limit, per se. Instead, they rely on regular check-ins from a handler. Each time a handler contacts the Unit, the time to termination is reset. If the timer gets down low enough, the governor triggers a countdown to a shutdown sequence. Looks like there's a number of intermediate steps, but that's the gist of it."

I was absolutely lost for words. "We do this to people?"

"Yeah, Cass, the Corporation Rim does all kinds of awful things to people." My companion pulled back and paced the room. "It's why I escaped when I could."

"I didn't… know that."

Kris shrugged. "I don't usually talk about it." He waved the topic away with a careless hand. "Let's deal with the SecUnit."

I looked up at the construct and found it watching me with those unreadable eyes. The blank, neutral expression on its face might have belonged to a statue. At least its vital signs were slowly returning to more appropriate ranges, and it was no longer fighting its restraints.

"Try asking for its performance reliability?" the light-haired pilot suggested.

"What's that?"

"An overall measure of how well a construct is doing, usually."

I took a deep breath and squeaked, "SecUnit, what is your, uh, performance reliability?"

What I wanted to do was hide in my cabin for a few hours and maybe cry into a pillow, but we didn't have time for that. Not when we were authorized to leave the station in under three hours. This would be a bad time for a mental breakdown.

In the feed, the construct answered, 72% and holding steady.

That didn't sound like a canned response, which gave me hope.

[fourmarkdove]

Tiger.

Title: Tiger.

Pairing: Clark Kent x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Words: 2.6k

Summary: You suffer through terrible migraines and push others away because of them. One man breaks through your self-imposed fortress of solitude.

Warnings: Pain, angst, fluff.

A/N: Migraines. Started writing this during one. Ended writing this during another one. Comments are welcome. Thanks for reading!

You moaned yourself awake. Pain gripped the muscles tight across your face and stabbed like a serrated knife behind your left eye.

Acute pain like that made decisions seem just out of reach and words difficult to find. It felt like it knocked you back to a primitive state; you just ached to be held and for it to stop tormenting you.

Drawing your knees up and head down, you literally curled into the fetal position and whimpered aloud. Your cold fingers felt like an ice pack pressed to your eye socket. Your brain was aflame.

You’d lost and just plain avoided relationships the last few years. Who would put up with this looming specter? It was frustrating enough to deal with this nonsense yourself. You couldn't force it upon anyone else, so you kept to yourself.

Even on the best days, your coordination was subpar so it was no surprise when you’d spilled tea on the coffeehouse floor, you slipped in it. You expected to hit the tile hard but a pair of large hands caught under your arms and lifted you back onto your heels.

He offered a soft smile and worried brow, sitting with you a moment while a flash of bright light swept across your vision indicating another attack was eminent.

Noting your struggle to find abortive meds in your bag, he suggested it might be a good idea to get a ride instead of driving home yourself. You agreed home was a good idea but had a meeting to get to - one to show your architectural design portfolio. You were wincing in pain, moreso by the second, when he inquired about the location of your meeting downtown. He said it was near the Daily Planet and he’d be happy to get you there. You didn’t want to be a burden but the concern lingering in his blue eyes made you relent. He typed his number into your phone when he dropped you off and said if you needed him for anything, even a ride home, he’d be there. Something in those bright blue eyes and intonation seemed so familiar. Had you been more alert, you’d have been shocked by how easy it was to trust this good natured puppy of a man.

You never called him for that ride home; you were embarrassed that he saw you in such miserable shape when he appeared to be in pretty top physical shape himself. Over the next few weeks, you passed by each other in the coffee shop, exchanging “good morning” greetings. Beyond that, you never spoke or saw each other again.

Now in the solitude of your misery, you thumbed through your phone and found his number. He did say anything. And if he wasn’t awake, he’d get the message too late in the morning and you’d make an excuse about meaning to text someone else.

Hurting. Miserable. Advice?

You didn’t need advice. You’d lived with this most of your life and tried every drug, vitamin, tea, diet change and yoga position. Just shy of a lobotomy, nothing worked. You just didn’t want to be alone, trapped, in pain.

Tossing your phone on the bed, you dug your nails into your scalp attempting to create pain elsewhere that might distract from the torture in your face and behind your eye. You didn’t expect your phone to buzz immediately.

I’m so sorry to hear you’re struggling. I could come over in a few with a cold drink. Have you eaten? Best, CK

Squinting at the dim light on your phone you thought a long moment, pressing your dry lips together. You’d thrown up hours ago and a cold drink did sound nice.

Not lately. Sprite pls? Ty ty

Writhing in bed, you just could not find a position that made the overwhelming pain feel any better. You resorted to letting yourself whimper desperate cries with every exhale. Pathetic.

Of course. I’ll be right there. Do you need anything else? Best, CK

You did your best to roll over and crawl out of bed. If you had company coming, you needed to at least brush your teeth and pull back your hair. Stumbling to the bathroom in the dark, you leaned heavily on the door frame. The pain screamed through your head; every nerve across your face set ablaze like a searing electrical fire.

Well beyond the point of thinking clearly, your nails dug into your scalp, clawing, desperate, and you sunk down to the cool tile floor and curled up there, unable to process anything other than the primal urge to soak up the numbing cold.

He didn’t bother with the guise and formality of knocking at your front door. Pushing it open as if it’d not been bolted, he dropped the bag from the store at the door and rounded the corner to the bathroom. Not yet completely used to the sound of your voice, he’d heard something like the whimpers of a mortally wounded animal from blocks away.

He found you curled up, in the bathroom, passed out. Kneeling, his brow furrowed deeply with concern and he squeezed your wrist, calling your name. He tapped your shoulder but nothing came of it. You were limp as a rag doll and your skin glistened with a thin film of slippery sweat. You managed to get one arm pulled out of your tank top off before you collapsed entirely, so the damp fabric draped partly around your neck like a scarf.

He pulled away strands of hair clinging to your face. “Y/n, come on. Wake up. It’s me. Clark, remember?”

His brow furrowed further still and jaw tensed from clenching his teeth. Sliding a forearm under your legs, he turned and lifted you gently, letting your head fall against his shoulder as he scooped you up effortlessly and took you back to the bed where your sheets had been balled up and nearly torn off completely.

‘What kind of torture chamber is this?’ he thought to himself.

Lying you out as carefully as a feather on a silken pillow, he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled your arm back through your shirt. His long fingers slid under your neck and thumbed the base of your skull. He could hear the woosh of blood pounding through constricted vessels and the scent of adrenaline on your skin.

Your expression sharpened when he thumbed down the back of your neck, right to the rigid muscle at the top of your shoulder. Pressing his thumb into it, the stubborn muscle almost immediately gave up. A tiny whine escaped your lips which he took as positive sign so he touched the other side, getting it to release, too.

Your eyes winced open. Even in the dark, it was too bright. “C-Clark?” You croaked. “I’m so sorry I -“

An anxious smile only slightly distracted from the gnawing pain.

“It’s okay,” he interrupted. His gaze was so kind despite the worry in those large blue pools. “How are you feeling?”

“I think I’m dying,” you quipped humorlessly.

He huffed a slight chuckle. “My mom used to get migraines, especially during tornado season, so I sort of know a few tricks. May I?”

“Please,” you ached wearily. Shrugging out of his jacket, he put up a finger to indicate he’d be right back, even though you couldn’t see it through the blur. Stalking to the front door, he returned a moment later with a blue bag that he set beside the bed.

He sat on the edge again and untwisted the green bottle of Sprite, and slid it into your shaky hand. Helping you sit up, he blew lightly over two of his fingers while you sipped. Whisper gently he stroked his frozen fingers over your forehead. Your eyes squeezed shut and you cooed softly, setting the bottle down between your legs. Silently, you leaned into his touch in relief as the pain tidal wave began to ebb. A slight smile creased the corners of his eyes seeing the tension melting from your expression. He blew on his other hand and ran two sets of fingers down your temples and then between your eyebrows, sweeping lightly over your sinuses.

Your lips parted and you moaned out loud. He didn’t jump but definitely glanced down at your hand pawing at his thigh, wordlessly expressing the relief and gratitude you felt.

“Real lightning storm in there, huh?” he asked just above a whisper.

You hummed letting your fingertips spread against his thigh.

“May I take down your hair?” he asked gently, blowing over both sets of fingertips again.

You nodded, completely giving yourself over to being touched. You didn’t care how - you only knew he was making it so much better and in the crushing despair, you craved the comforting.

Smoothing both palms up the back of your neck to the fallen bun atop your head, he loosened the band and slid the elastic around his wrist, easing your hair down with his splayed fingers. He frowned harshly, circling over the crescent shaped indentations along your scalp. There was desperation under his fingertips and it made his stomach tighten up.

Lost in the sensation, your body rocked forward until your forehead touched his shoulder. This was much too intimate, to be held and caressed in your own bed by someone you’d only really talked to once. “I… I’m... sorry...”

He side eyed you from behind his glasses when you palmed his chest lazily intending to push yourself away but made absolutely no effort to do so.

“It’s fine. Really. Is this helping at all?”

Humming in the affirmative, you squished your cheek against his pec and sighed deeply, feeling tension in your back draining away while his broad palm pressed between your shoulder blades. Carefully lowering you back into bed, he pulled the covers up.

“Try to sleep, okay? I’ll just be on the couch,” he whispered, rubbing his thumb against your shoulder. Comfortable again, you’d already fallen back to sleep before your body even touched the bed.

*

Stumbling out of bed about 2am with a blanket wrapped around yourself, you headed to the kitchen. Your stomach was rumbling but what to make that required as little energy as possible?

“Banana? Banana.” You said to yourself out loud tugging on the not quite ripe bunch on the counter.

“Need help?”

You yelped, dropping the bananas on the floor with several thumps. He stood in the doorway with a fading grin.

“I thought I was alone,” you said hoarsely. “Thought you were a… fever dream or something.”

“Nope, I’m very real,” he explained, bending to scoop up the mess of fruit at your feet and blow on a couple fingers.

Straightening up, he put the bananas back on the counter. It made him smile slightly to see you blush and go wide eyed when he closed the distance between you.

“How are you feeling?” he asked gently, searching your eyes, sweeping his cool fingertips over your forehead. You blinked slowly, not entirely aware you were letting out the softest purr but he definitely heard it. He smiled down at you as he caressed over your face.

“I’m… okay,” you sighed dreamily after several long moments. “Hungry though.”

“Let me make you something,” he appealed, thumbing slow circles into the back of your neck only after you dropped your head and pointed. He chuckled and listened; that heartbeat wasn’t thumping quite as hard in your head anymore.

“Probably something light to start. Toast and fruit? You seem to be craving bananas.”

“Thank you, Clark,” you sighed, peeking up at him through your fallen hair.

“‘Course,” he shrugged it off with an easy smile. He seemed to have plenty of those to offer. “Now you go curl up on the couch. Didn’t know how long I’d be here for so I loaded up 76 on your xBox. Without the DLCs it’s absolute trash, though. If it’s done you’re welcome to take it for a test drive while I get some snacks ready.”

The tableside lamp cast a warm glow which you settled under, drawing your blanket up closer. The comforting scent of melted butter scraped over toasted bread wafted in from the kitchen. It made you smile and close your eyes listening to him humming to himself as he worked. Just as he sat down with the tray in both hands, the xBox restarted and he grinned at you.

“Perfect timing! Peppermint tea?”

Collecting your cup from the tray, you sat back against your end of the couch and wrapped both hands around it, inhaling the tingly minty scent and sighed. He’d traded the tray with teas and toast and - wait, where did he find a single pink tulip? - for the console controller. He was all grins loading the game up, adjusting his glasses.

“See? This is already SO much better,” he said with mock annoyance, motioning with his hand at the big screen opposite the couch. “Looks like Bethesda finally got their shi- What are you doing?”

He arched a playful eyebrow at you. It was so unlike you but you actually started to giggle. The sound, the crackle sensation in the back of your throat and chest, felt foreign.

“Nothing,” you cooed softly, drawing your cold toes back from where you’d been trying to wiggle them under his thigh for warmth. You sipped your tea.

“Mhmm,” he hummed, the very slightest of smirks lifting the corner of his lips. His gaze returned to the game and he thumbed over the controller quickly.

Wordlessly, he lifted his thigh and sighed, feigning exasperation. You let out an excited squeak, sliding your feet under his thigh which he then rested down over you, making you sigh.

Without looking over, he took one hand off the controller and tucked your blanket over your ankles. “There now. Better?”

“Mmhmmmm,” you cooed, putting your tea down on your chest as you slid down on the couch into the pillows.

“Anyone ever told you that you may be part cat?”

“Mm?”

“Mm like the cats and kittens we had on the farm back home. They love scritches behind the ears, seek out warm places to take naps, seem to climb all over ME for some reason.”

You lifted your head as he exchanged your tea for toast. You nibbled on the corner and couldn’t help but smile. “Maybe it’s because you keep feeding them.”

He chuckled and paused the game, throwing an arm over the back of the couch. “Could be. Somebody’s got to look after them, though.”

“Might as well be you, hm?” You didn’t mean for it to come out as sharply as it did.

His smile started to fade a bit and a furrow creased his brow. “Might be. Might be somebody else. It’s only a problem if they think they’re not worth the attention.”

It made your cheeks burn and chest feel all fluttery. Was this flirting? You couldn’t remember. “Clark?”

“Mhm.”

“We’re still talking about cats, right?”

A sly smirk lifted his features as he collected the controller in both hands again. “You. I like you,” he husked, giving you a side eyed glance.

“And cats.”

“More of a dog guy if I’m honest.”

“Wait… WHAT are we talking about then?”

He tossed his head back and chuckled. “Eat your toast, Tiger.”

[robots-and-writing]

The Road to Ruin (MTMTE Sunder part 3)

(TW: Needles, Surgery, blood, mind control, yandere, mentions of human experimentation)

Sunder left his beloved's room, human blood staining his hands. His room is directly beside it, and in the corner is a hole where he has a perfect, one way view of his dearest. Their set up is the same as last time, except this time a note is set on their chest. It's handwritten, in his scratchy yet legible handwriting.

"To my dearest most beloved little angel,

My dear, you've been out for a day after those nasty decepticons attacked us. I fended them off but they managed to injure you. I've dressed and bandaged your wounds and I will be back soon with some food and some clothes for you.

Your dearest Conjunx,

Sunder"

It was a messy letter, with a small bloodstain on the corner. But it would serve its purpose well. He checked his human supplies for anything he may be lacking. Blood transfusions ready to go in case of any injuries, water, food, and clothes. There was still more to get but the human would have to wait for them to arrive.

Sunder looked over to the altar dedicated to his beloved. Pictures of them adorned his walls, along with their name all over the walls written in energon. The altar had little keepsakes of them. One of their shirts he had stolen, a lock of their hair and a vial of their blood were his favorites. But his favorite thing of theirs? A recording. Taken without their knowledge back on earth, they had a lover there. They confessed under a tree to their old flame, and Sunder's spark broke in two at that moment. But one good thing came of that confession. A recording of his little angel, saying "I love you, more than anyone else. Despite your flaws and despite mine, we are meant to be."

Those words tasted like the most delicious memories, like the sweetest energon, and like the greatest victories. They repeated in his mind 24/7, and were what motivated him to continue on when it came to keeping as sane as he could be without them by his side.

But despite his best efforts, Sunder couldn't handle being without them. Seeing them with another person made his brain swim with thoughts of violence. He should use his powers to tear that wretched other human to shreds. But something made him stop himself.

What if my dear hates me?

Sunder wasn't exactly the friendliest looking cybertronian. Tall, broad and scary, with spikes and pointy bits sticking out of him, most humans would run away in terror. (Before being torn apart of course.) But after a few human experiments, his idea was made possible. Mnemosurgery works on humans. Not from a distance, that requires a brain module. But it could be done.

His first experiments were unsuccessful. Too many needles meant a full lobotomy and possibly making them brain dead. Too few needles and the results were more temporary and a much more thorough "coding" would be necessary. Some of them bleed out due to him accidentally hitting a major artery. Some starved as he didn't feed them right. And some couldn't handle being an experiment, so they threw themselves off the workbench onto the ground, committing suicide. It was a delicate balance.

At first he didn't want to alter his beloved too much. Just make them despise other humans. Then he realized that would just make them miserable. So then he wanted to make them like him. But that would be too easily undone. He had to go full in. Make him their guardian angel. Make him the only one they feel safe with. He is the only one they will ever love. He is what stops the universe from killing them.

Getting the human was a challenge. He could do it himself but that would run the risk of alerting the other Autobots to his presence and imprisoning him again. He could do something the humans called "Catfishing" but that requires patience. And that is not something he has ever had enough of. He finally settled on a bounty hunter. 10 million shanix, as long as not a hair on his precious human's head is harmed.

He got a ping from a famous bounty hunter. He had the human. "Rendezvous at the coordinates and bring the shanix." Sunder did, and the human was finally in his grasp. Kicking and scratching at his hand, they were a wild and untamed thing. Taking the human back to his ship he pet them gently on the head, far more gentle than he ever had been.

"Who are you? Why was I taken here? Are you going to kill me? I thought Autobots didn't harm us?" He only smiled.

"Are you even listening to me? I'd at least like to know if I'm going to die? Are you really just going to keep on petting me like some pet-"

"You're home now darling. And soon, you'll be whole. We're two sides of the same coin."

"Uh- WHAT? I have a partner, and I love them very much! Besides I don't even know who you are, now put me down before you break my arm or something?"

He deposited the human in a large glass enclosure, with a bed, sink and bathroom and a cup on the side of the sink.

"Is this... an enclosure? Am I a pet to you? Excuse me but I'm a person with a life to live, rent to pay, and a partner to love! I'm not for your sick entertainment!"

Sunder only looked at them with wonder and glee, like a kid on Christmas. He spoke in a spine-tingling, nerve-wracking voice, as if Satan himself was speaking through him.

"You my dear, are a unique creature. Small and insignificant in stature, yet bigger than anything in existence." His words did nothing to soothe them as he leaned in so close his eyes reflected their face like a mirror. "Humans are so short lived, yet manage to reek of sin. Even you! With your small head, and tiny little legs, you have managed to commit the worst atrocity of them all!"

"What did I do?"

"You promised yourself to someone other than me."

Sunder tilted his head in a way that was probably trying to get a better look at them but only brought tears of panic to their eyes.

"I don't- I don't understand! I don't think I deserve to die!"

"Kill you?" The confusion in his voice was true. Had his intent not come through clear with his words? "My dear! You are sorely mistaken. I am your Conjunx! Your other half! Or as humans put it, your husband?"

"HUSBAND!? Sir I hardly know you! And even if I did know you, I already have a boyfriend and I love him more than I will ever love you."

The hand Sunder had on the edge of the clear box the human turned to a fist, shards of glass bursting everywhere. It cut into the human and they hurriedly put their arms in front of themselves to protect their face.

"Now now. That walking pile of sin is far far away now. And there is nothing more you have to do with him."

"But-"

"You're bleeding darling. And while your blood would taste delicious, I can't afford to have you fall unconscious or worse."

Reaching for them with the hand that didn't have glass shards sticking out of it, he held them firmly in his hand and took them to a corner of the room that had medical supplies. Sunder pinned them to the table as they thrashed around with blood dripping everywhere. One limb at a time, he picked the pieces of glass out of them and dressed and bandaged the wounds. Judging by the screams of pain the human made, it stung terribly. Then Sunder moved them to the medical bed and strapped them to it and moved on to cleaning off their face. He patched them up with expert precision as they cried out hoping someone would rescue them.

"Hello? Anyone? Please, someone help me! This can't be happening to me!"

"You speak as if anyone will ever rescue you."

The human finally stopped moving and let Sunder work as his words set in. No one will ever come for them. No one will ever save them. Ever. Ever. Ever.

The human didn't even react anymore to the sting of the cleaning of their wounds. Nor when he set them in his hand, this time loosely and just sat there petting them with a look of wonder and some sick form of love. For once, his mouth was closed.

Sunder looked back on the next two days as a time where he had what he thought he always wanted, but had been in denial of one fundamental truth. Having his beloved is meaningless if he isn't their beloved. Sure they didn't resist his petting, or him telling them all about the last person he ate the memories of. But they never reacted. They only drank when he forced water in their mouth. His dearest didn't even eat and became lethargic and entirely nonresponsive. That's when he knew. It's time for you to be perfect.

That was also the day he realized he had been conned. He woke up and they were gone. All that was left of them was a fresh bloodstain where he had broken the glass a few days ago. The vent nearest to the glass box was open as well, meaning they had truly escaped. Sunder cursed himself and his oversight. But now he had a human to catch.

The first place he checked was his room. And sure enough, there was a stack of boxes the human must have climbed down and the door was open. They must be terrified. If they stayed with me they would be worry free. And they were terrified. Straining his audials, he heard a faint and distant whimpering from a hallway further down.

"Oh dear human, why do you feel the need to run?" He put his hand around the corner of the hallway, just to hear their muffled gasp. "With me, you will never feel any shame from your sinful memories, and you will have eternal happiness by my side."

Now backed into a corner, they stood strong and tall, looking him in the optics with nothing but pure revulsion at him.

"Sunder, eternal happiness by your side? How is that possible?" His hand dented the wall unconsciously. Their words hurt, but he was not surprised. "You tore my family to bits, kidnapped me and forgot to give me anything but water for 3 days! I could never be happy with you."

Yes. It's time now my dear. Now It's time for you to be perfect. He didn't bother trying to hide his smile as he reached his hand towards them. There was no trying to escape him now, they were cornered.

Back in the present, Sunder had been scrawling mortilus' name on the walls in the blood of his beloved. The walls had been written over multiple times, in both blood and energon which made his entire room smell of rust. He checked on the human one more time before going into recharge.

[celestines]

                have   you   seen   IRINA   MOON   around   campus   ?   i   hear   they’re   a   FOURTH   YEAR   ,   WINTER   witch   with   a   specialty   in   ENCHANTMENTS   .   i   almost   never   see   them   without   their   ERMINE   .   if   they   ever   want   to   be   a   ENCHANTER   someday   they   should   ease   up   on   being   SUPERCILIOUS   &   MANIPULATIVE   .   at   least   you   can   say   they’re   CAPTIVATING   &   SEDULOUS   ,    too   .

━  ˙ ˖  ☆     QUICK  STATS  !

full  name  :   irina   sophia   moon   .

nickname(s)  :   rina   ,   ice   princess   .    

zodiac  :   capricorn   sun   ,   scorpio   moon   (  click   !  )

sexuality  :   bisexual   .

alignment   :   lawful   neutral   .

pinterest   :   (   tba !   )  

━  ˙ ˖  ☆     BACKSTORY  !  

hailing   from   a   long   line   of   winter   witches   &   warlocks   ,    irina   was   born   into   a   family   that   seemed   to   fit   every   stereotype   of   their   coven   :   cold   ,    calculating   ,   and   striving   for   more   power   than   they   had   .   her   parents   were   well   off   ,   and   although   they   were   not    elite   ,   they   were   prominent   enough   to   exist   side   by   side   that   world   anyway   .   almost   important   ,    but    not   important   enough   .   almost   at   the   top   ,    but   not   quite   there   .   while   most   people   might   find   it   ridiculous   anyone   could   have   so   much   and   still   be   unsatisfied   ,   it   never   stopped   irina’s   parents   from   their   desperate   ambitions   .   

she   would   be   her   family’s   only   daughter   ,    as   well   as   the   last   born   moon   child   .   irina   was   aware   of   the   differences   in   how   she   was   being   raised   versus   the   way   her   brothers   were   being   raised   right   away   .   while   her   father   payed   close   attention   to   his   sons   ,    irina   was   cast   off   to   the   side   into   the   awaiting   embrace   of   her   mother   ,    but   she   wouldn’t   find   affection   there   either   .   for   her   brothers   ,    freedom   was   a   luxury   ,   and   while   they   were   raised   studious   it   was   obvious   to   irina   that   they   had   it   easier   than   her   .   when   they’d   come   home   late   and   tipsy   after   a   long   night   of   what   they   always   referred   to   as   “   networking   ”   (   which   a   young   irina   quickly   discovered   meant   partying   )   she’d   still   be   awake   at   the   dining   table   triple   checking   her   homework   .   

while   she   took   to   books   easy   ,    what   she   felt   challenged   by   were   the   lessons   her   mother   put   her   through   .   she   raised   irina   to   believe   a   woman   must   be   smart   and   worldly   ,   and   so   irina  learned   to   play   the   violin   .   her   mother   ,   who   always   had   a   certain   fascination   obsession   with   the   winter   high   warlock   ,   truly   believed   in   the   importance   of   upholding   tradition   .   she   was   willing   to   go   to   any   length   to   preserve   the   coven   ,   even   further   than   irina’s   own   father   would   ,   and   she’d    use   emotional   manipulation   to   get   her   there   .   while   the   woman   thought   her   sons   would   have   no   trouble   rising   the   ranks   ,   she   worried   about   irina   ,    often   pressuring   the   young   girl    to   be   wise   and   marry   well   .  

in   the   years   her   older   brothers   were   away   at   the   academy   of   arcane   arts   irina   would   learn   her    most   valuable   lesson   of   all   .   underneath   every   rule   and   tradition   there   is   hypocrisy   ,   and   nothing   is   ever   truly   what   it   appears   to   be   .   she’d   believed   in   her   parents   and   the   way   she’d   been   raised   ,   wholeheartedly   believed   and   endured   it   all   ,   never   questioning   them   once   until   the   night   she   catches   her   father   locking   lips   with   a   summer   witch   in   what   they   must   have   assumed   was   a   private   corner   of   a   high   profile   charity   event   .   she   never   spoke   a   word   about   it   to   anyone   ,   but   things   were   never   the   same   after   that   .   

every   time   her   parents   scoffed   at   the   other   covens   ,   she   thought   about   that   party   .    every   time   her   mother   tried   to   control   her   friendships   or   relationships   ,   she   thought   about   the   irony   of   her   father’s   infidelity   .   while   her   older   brothers   went   on   to   become   a   successful   duelist   and   council   officer   respectfully   ,   irina   was   counting   down   the   days   til   she   finally   got   to   escape   to   the   academy   .  her   life   so   far   had   been   reminiscent   of   a   porcelain   doll’s   ,   eighteen   years   trying   not   to   fall   right   off   the   highest   shelf   .   she’d   become   exactly   who   her   parent’s   needed   her   to   be   ,   something   irina   once   wanted   more   than   anything   in   the   whole   world   ,   but   all   she   felt   was   empty   .  

 when   she   arrived   at   arcane   as   a   freshman   ,   she   already   had   huge   footsteps   to   fill   .   her   brothers   ,   who   had   excelled   not   only   academically   but   also   socially   ,   had   achieved   just   about   everything   —   except   becoming   head   of   winter   house   .   one   of   them   came   close   their   3rd   year   making   it   as   prefect   ,   only   to   lose   head   of   house   the   next   year   .   irina   quickly   became   obsessed   with   the   idea   of   making   it   to   house   head   and   she   knew   it   would   take   more   than   being  smart   or   proficient   in   magic   to   get   her   there   ,    but   she   also   knew   if   anyone   could   do   it   it   was   her   .   she’d   been   raised   to   chase   powerful   positions   ,   to   study   ,   to   be   charming   ,   and   to   find   the   right   connections   .   like   most   in   the   winter   house   her   ability   to   read   people   was   something   she   had   mastered   ,   and ultimately   it’s   how   she   finally   got   her   wish   her   fourth  year   at   the   academy   when   she   got   the   house   leadership   position   .                                          

━  ˙ ˖  ☆     PERSONALITY  +  TIDBITS  !

in   true   capricorn   nature   ,   irina   is   very   ambitious   .   while   she   used   to   strive   to   be   the   best   at   everything   she   does   to   get   a   sliver   of   her   parent’s   approval   ,   she’s   recently   made   the   discovery   it’s   much   more   satisfying   for   her   to   work   hard   and   prove   to   herself   she   can   be   so   much   more   than   just   a   pawn   in   whatever   game   the   winter   coven   seems   to   be   playing   .   she’s   a   perfectionist   that’s   constantly   on   the   borderline   of   obsession   ,   which   means   while   she   has   high  standards   for   everyone   around  her   ,    the   most  unrealistic   expectations   are   the   ones   she   sets   for  herself   .   

she   is   ridiculously   charming   for   someone   who   ,   at   first   glance   ,   appears   to   be   icy   and   distant   .   pleasant   at   all   times   ,   but   especially   in   times   of   conflict   ,    which   is   exactly   what   makes   her   a   good   house   leader   .   has   the   uncanny   ability   to   read   people   disturbingly   well   ,   which   she   does   use   to   her   advantage   (   even   when   she   doesn’t   mean   to   </3   )   .   irina   has   a   habit   of   making   people   feel   important   when   she   talks   to   them   ,   like   there’s   not   a   single  person   in   the   world   she’d   rather   be   in   conversation   with   (   exactly   like   this   quote   )   .   plays   a   lot   on   the   ambition  and   the   ego   of   winter  witches   when   leading   the   house   and   the   shiny   promise  of   being   the   best   because   she's   never   known   anything   else   /:   surprisingly   though   ,   she’s   not   as   strict   as   the   other   house   heads   probably   believe   her   to   be   ,   something   only   winter   witches   and   warlocks   would   know   (   and   keep   to   themselves   if   they're   smart   )   .   

while   most   of   her   relationships   ,   per   request   of   her   mother   ,   are   more   business   transactions   than   they   are   anything   based   on   real   emotional   vulnerability   ,    irina   has   made   exceptions   .   even   with   people   she   should   only   care   about   because   of   status   she’s   finding   it   harder   and   harder   to   act   like   her   feelings   and   vulnerable   side   don’t   exist   .   she’s   terrified   to   share   those   parts   of   herself   with   just   anyone   ,   only   trusting   a   select   few    to   really   know   her   ,    the   rest   of   the   world   only   seeing   a   carefully   crafted   projection   of   herself   .   

honestly   ...   she’s   kinda   on   the   verge   of   losing   it   JSDBWJBDJW   very   nina   in   black   swan   there’s   plenty   of   female   histeria  to   go  around   !   but   she's   trying   her   best   to   hold   it   all   together   and   stay   responsible   while  coping   with   the   fact   that   her   entire   childhood   was   some   bullshit   and   with   the   fact   that   while   she   might   actually   have   zero   interest   in   upholding   traditions   spread   by   hypocritical   witches   and   warlocks   in   positions   of   power   ,    playing   the   game   all   the   way   to   the   top   is   the   only   way   she   sees  herself   ever   having   true   freedom   ):         

she’s   rarely   cruel   on   purpose   .   most   of   the   time   when   she   hurts   someone   it’s   because   they   became   collateral   while   she's   trying   to   achieve   a   certain   goal   .   definitely   wants   to   be   genuinely   nice   to   people   as   opposed   to   fake   politician   nice   ,   she   just   kinda   feels   like   a   fraud   doing   it   ,   like   it’s   impossible  for   her   to   actually   be   genuine   when   she’s   pretending   everyday   of   her   life   .

has   a   super   complicated   relationship   with   house   rivalries   since   she’s   questioning   everything   her   parents   taught   her   .   summer   house   makes   it   hard   for   her   to   change   her   opinions  ,   however   ,   when   they’re   constantly   getting   on   her   nerves   even   if   they   don’t   mean   to   </3   generally   speaking   she’s   on   the   best   terms   and   at   her   friendliest   with   winter  and  autumn   house   ,    and   is   much   more   likely   to   trust   and   befriend   people   from   those   houses   ,    but   she   will   never   outright   discriminate   against   someone   from   spring   or   summer   house   (   unless   they’ve  earned   it   )   .  

she   specializes   in   enchantments   !   and   she’s   really   good   at   it   !   she’d   never   admit   it   ,   but   her   dream   job   isn’t  actually   being   an   enchanter   ,    but   a   professional   violinist   .   she’s   in   orchestra   club   as   a   coping  mechanism   for   the   fact   that   she’ll   never  have   her   dream   ):

her   familiar   is   an   ermine   named   jasper   ,   who   is   way   more   high  strung   than   irina   could   ever   dream   of   being   .   looks   very   cute   and   approachable   but   he   is   deadly   ...   winter   house   has   probably   learned   to   beware   when  he’s   roaming   the   halls   unless   irina   is   by   his   side   😔   

has   a   huge   phobia   of   being   in   love   ,   partly   because   she   was   raised   to   believe   it   didn’t   exist   ,   partly   because   she   wants   it   so   bad   she’s   afraid   of   what   will   happen   if   she   ever   gets   it   .   irina   also   avoids   real   relationships   in   general   and   often   uses   the   married   to   her   studies   excuse   to   avoid   getting   into   one   because   she   knows   her   parents   would   want   to   manipulate   it   /:   any   relationship   she   has   is   casual   OR   it’s   fake   and   she   will   100%   ruin   anything   that   seems   like   it’s   going   some   place  real   

has   a    wilder   side   she   saves   for   special   occasions   ,    like   more   important   parties   .   values   her   control   so   it’s   rare   to   see   irina   inebriated   ,   although   there   are   famous   (   albeit   few   )   tales   of   all   her   scandalous   actions   while   under   the   influence   .

she   just   really  needs   a   hug   🥺   maybe   a   lobotomy   too   if   she   ever   wants   to   be   happy   for  real   😳                 

━  ˙ ˖  ☆     WANTED  CONNECTIONS  !  (  all  open  to  all  genders  )

people   she’s   befriended   because   she   wants   something   from   them   !   maybe   it’s   status   ,   or   information   ,   or   something   else   entirely   .   maybe   they’re   using   her   at   the   same   time   ,   or   maybe   they   have   no   idea   .   i   think   it   would   also   be   interesting   to   have   a   friendship   that   started   out   as   fake   but   morphed   into   something   real   and  irina   feels   super   guilty   about   it   ):   

winter   witches   or   warlocks   who   get   in   trouble   a   lot   (   like   break   curfew   ,   etc   .   )    that   she   has   to   deal   with   .   maybe   she   ends   up   being   an   unintentional   mom   friend   to   them   ,   or   maybe   they   get   on   her   nerves   and   she   makes   sure   they   know   it   .   it   would   be   kinda   sexy   to   have   a   winter   witch   or   warlock   that   starts   breaking   rules   on   purpose   just   to   mess   with   irina   or   spend   time   with   her    

hookups  !   yes   ,   meaningless   (   unless   ?   )   sex   with   people   is   how   she   copes   with   all   the   stress   she’s   under    😔   .    i’d   love   some   past   hookups   that   ended   for   whatever   reason   (   like   maybe   one   of   them   or   both   of   them   was   starting   to   catch   feelings   so   irina   snuffed   it   out   like   a   candle   or   maybe   they   ended   it   )   ,   hookups   that   were   huge   mistakes   and   she’s   doing   her   best   to   forget   they   even   happened   (   mayhaps   with   a   summer   witch   or   warlock   )   ,   and   current   hookups   !    there’s   always   room   to   make   it   messy   ,    or   to   keep   it   fun   and   casual   🥺  

a   confidant   ,   someone   who   really   truly   knows   her   and   is   there   for   her   in   ways   most   people   could   never   be   ,   and   in   return   she’s   there   for   them   .    it   would   be   interesting   if   they   don’t   actually   hang   out   and   do   normal   friend   things   ,    so   it’s   a   little   weird   and   awkward   when   they   do   despite   knowing   so   much   about   each   other   .

a   summer   witch   or   wizard   who   could   be   the   child   of   the   summer   witch   her   father   is   having   an   affair   with   !    bonus   points   if   they   don’t   know   it    yet   so   there   can   be   future   drama   &   extra   bonus   points   if   somehow   them   and   irina   end   up   getting   along   despite   all   odds   only   to   have   whatever   blossoming   relationship   ruined   by   the   realization   ...      

younger   witches   or   warlocks   who   look   up   to   her   🥺   she   wants   to   be   an   inspiration   and   she   would   definitely   try   her   best   to   be   a   good   one   .  maybe   even   a   winter   witch   she’s   low   key   training   to   become   house   head   after   she   graduates   !

someone   to   bring   out   her   softer   side   &   show   her   that   it’s   better   for   her   not   to   keep   her   emotions   bottled   up   .   someone   who   inspires   her   to   be   better   and   more   selfless   even   though   she’s   not   selfish   on   purpose   /:   

an   enemy   or   two   !    people   who   actually   get   to   see   her   angry   side   and   her   dirty   not   poised   side   for   whatever   reason   .    

maybe   someone   irina   helps   to   be   more   confident   or   ambitious   .   since   she   was   raised   with   a   me   first   mentality   (   that   she’s   had   to   keep   in   check   as   head  of   winter   house   )    she’s   good   at   helping   people   who  constantly   put   other   people’s   wants   and   needs   before   their   own   . 

perhaps   some   childhood   or   family   friends   that   would   know   irina’s   family   kinda   sucks   ):    maybe   they   were   close   as   kids   and   drifted   apart   as   they   grew   up   ,    but   it’s   weird   and   kinda   sad   because   they   still   know   a   lot   about   each   other   !

a   bad   influence   😈    whether   or   not   they’re   trying   to   get   irina   to   loosen   up   with   malicious   or   not   malicious   intentions   ,    they’re   the   only   one   capable   of   melting   down   her   walls   bit   by   bit   ,   quicker   the   more   she   internalizes   all   her   struggles   .   someone   she   has   real   fun   with   who   puts   a   stop   to   all   her   overthinking   and   gets   her   to   live   in   the  moment   !           

THIS   ONE   IS   EVEN   LONGER   IM   SO   SORRY   😭😭😭   i  have   rambling   bitch   disease   and   it’s   fatal   !    once   again   if   u   wanna   plot   u   can   find   me  on   discord  @ glo lovecore ʕ´• ᴥ•̥`ʔ#8172   but   if   discord   isn’t   ur   thing   we   can   100%   plot   through   im’s   ,   i’m   just   gonna   be   slower   to   respond   through   tumblr   i   won’t   lie   🥺   give   this   a   like   and   i’ll   message   u   (   or   u   can   message   me   first   hehe   )   and   tysm   for   reading   this   novel   of   an   intro  ...     

[sightlessdarkcorner7]

50 Couples On The Creepiest Sleep Talking/Said In The Dark of Night

After reading these sleep talker stories from (Ask Reddit) you are going to have trouble falling asleep with your partner.

My husband is OUT OF CONTROL with his sleep talking. You almost can’t call it sleep talking, because you would swear this MFer knows EXACTLY what he’s doing. It isn’t just talking. He gets up out of bed, will literally be walking around the house doing things like he’s totally aware. Could hold a full conversation with you. It takes a minute to realize whether he’s awake or not, he’s so sure of himself. So probably the scariest thing was one night we’re knocked out, it has to be like 3 am, and his big ass BOLTS out of bed like I’ve never seen in my life, waking me up and frantically yelling, “WE HAVE TO GO NOW! WE HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE! FOLLOW ME! HURRY UP!” I literally go into full panic mode and start trying to grab things and get my dogs, all while trying to ask him WTF is going on, but he’s SO serious about this that I just trust that there must be something bad happening. Within a minute or so I noticed that as frantic as he was walking around, he wasn’t really DOING anything, just kind of going in circles. At that point it clicked that he wasn’t really awake [I had been woken up from a dead sleep too obviously] so I started saying his name over and over and telling him it was okay, and he kind of just snapped out of it and was like oh, sorry about that…

I was told by my SO that I said, “Give her a lobotomy, right through the temple.”

SO: Shhh be quiet. She’ll hear us. I ask who. SO Response: The woman who lives here. Shhhh she’s in the hallway.

Sat up at a 90 degree angle and said, “Violence causes and solves all problems.” Laid back down and said nothing else.

Woke up to go to the bathroom one night. As I move to get up my boyfriend goes, “Don’t go out there…” Thinking he’s awake and joking with me I go, “Oh yeah, why?” He sits upright eyes wide open and goes, “SHE’S out there.” I held it for the rest of the night.

Woke up the whole house shouting, “Where is the head?! Where is the head?!”

He did that sit straight up in bed thing that I thought only happened in movies then shouted, “They’re coming for my skinnnn.”

I talk in my sleep, and my girlfriend told me this story after we woke up. I had evidently, turned toward her, shook her with my face, and yelled “They took my god damn arms Johnny!” before slumping back over and going back to sleep.

Not my SO but one of my friends’ mother used to talk in her sleep frequently. Apparently she was petting her boyfriend’s hair and telling him all the ways that she could kill him and make it look like an accident. Told her about it in the morning and she just laughs and said they weren’t bad ideas.

My wife has the occasional night terrors. One night she woke up screaming thinking something was in the corner of our room. Really freaked me out cause I woke up to her trying to escape through the wall while pulling her lamp from the socket and throwing everything off of her nightstand. My dog and I just looked at her super confused. Dog noped out of the bedroom and slept in the guest room that night.

My boyfriend has PTSD from his time in the Marines and what they did overseas. The other night, I had my arm around his waist and he patted my hand and said, “You’re never going to make it out of here. You’re just another casualty about to happen. You’re going to die and luckily we’re married because you have life insurance.” .... we are not married.

“I wanna tear all your skin off your body… then maybe you’ll be quiet.”

My stepfather in his sleep:”I’ll will kill you, you bastard.” It was in the beginning of their relationship, my mum was a little bit scared.

A few months ago my husband was mumbling in his sleep, I asked what was up, he replied very clearly and loudly, “A CORRIDOR OF SEVERED HEADS.” I slept with the light on.

The first time we ever slept together I woke up to him looking at me. “Hand me my spear. I will kill you now,” he said. Then he closed his eyes and laid back down. I thought about it for like 5 minutes, decided I could take him, then went back to sleep myself. We dated for 6 years.

He sat up, pointed to the darkest corner of the room, and said, “There’s someone there!” I frantically said, “What do you mean?” And he insisted “There! There’s someone standing right there!” He then proceeded to lay down and go back to sleep as I used my phone light to check the dark corner. There was no one there.

He’s still watching us. He has no eyes.” Well, so much for sleeping tonight.

“They’re out there.” He says, eyes closed. “Who?” I asked. He shrugs, and uses both hands to gesture to the dark window. “Them.” We’ve had people in our yard before, so I had to look!

I wake up to hear him mumbling indistinct words, followed by “sudden infant death syndrome.” I was 7 months pregnant at the time.

My husband, almost every night, yells out “help…help…HELP” in his sleep. If I wake him when he does it, he’s hysterical until I can calm him down. It’s crazy.

“Don’t move or they’ll get you.” He says he doesn’t even remember having dreams that night.

Soon after having a child, my wife sat upright in bed in the middle of the night, shouted: “My baby! What has she done?!” and lay back down.

“Don’t worry about the lady in the corner.”

When we first got together, my (soon-to-be-ex)SO would scream at his ex wife in his sleep, saying things like “shut the fuck up you stupid bitch, I should kill you”. Now he screams those things at me in his sleep.

This wasn’t an SO but a guy I had a fling with. He abruptly began speaking gutteral gibberish in his sleep, then in his guttural voice shouted “I SAW HIM,” then continued the gibberish. Think straight-up horror movie demon voice. I think the devil took over his body for a moment.

My ex used to grind her teeth, talk and move a lot while sleeping. One night she was making this weird noise with her throat and me, being a light sleeper, woke up and decided I was going to get up and go to the bathroom when she suddenly snapped her neck and turned her face towards me and said real quick “the witch has arrived” and then turned her face away just as fast and stopped moving. I spent the whole night lying down wide awake trying not to piss myself.

My husband frequently sees things in our room in his sleep that are not there. Giant spiders on the wall, snakes, squirrels. He’ll wake up and tell me to get out of bed so he can find whatever it is he “saw”. One time he jumped out of bed and looked under the bed for snakes. My favorite was when he pointed to the corner of our bedroom and said there was a giant spider. He then proceeded to run out of the bedroom yelling, “I’m out this bitch, I’m out this bitch”. He doesn’t even talk like that normally. He’s also punched me in the back multiple times in a row because he was dreaming of fighting someone.

“We’re not alone,” at 3 am while camping in the 100 Mile Wilderness.

My SO has laughed in his sleep. Doesn’t seem creepy, but when you’re sleeping in dark and quiet room, and wake up to someone chuckling, then creepy is an understatement.

One night he repeatedly screamed “GET THEM OFF ME!” while biting his own arms. Alarming to say the least.

I’m not sure what’s more terrifying than your SO sitting upright and saying, “they’re here” only to collapse back into their deep slumber.

Screaming, “I am going to kill you Motherfucker!”

My SO used to (not as much over the years) speak German in his sleep. So, since I understand very little german, I’d catch a few words here and there and ask in the morning… It usually was something like “run”, “kill” ect. He had the strangest dreams/ nightmares.

I am the talker, my BF is weirded out by it in general… one night I sat up and creepily whispered “Help Me.”

He kissed my forehead and then said, in a really creepy sing-songy voice, “They’re coooooming, the terrorists are coooming! Dont worry though, they wont bang you.”

Violently shakes me awake “Don’t move. DO NOT MOVE.” Whispers: “We are covered in bees. Stay very still.” Turns over and falls sleeps.

My brother and I shared a room growing up. I would always wake him up with my sleep talking so he convinced my Dad to record me in my sleep. I said one very clear and loud sentence that night. “Go until you die.” No clue what I was dreaming about.

My ex once asked Her: “Do you see them?” Me : “Who?” Her: “The children.” That was a big nope!

Not words, but a laugh. My husband has, on more than one occasion, laughed in his sleep. But it’s not a normal laugh… It’s either a lot deeper and slower (almost insidious), or it’s a higher pitch (sometimes up and down rapidly with the pitch) and kind of staccato. Neither laugh sounds like him when he’s awake. It’s unsettling, but fortunately, it doesn’t happen too often.

I had an ex girlfriend who’s first language was Welsh. When she spoke in her sleep, bitch sounded like she was speaking in tongues.

Not 100% a talking in her sleep story but… When my SO is stressed she has dreams about spiders crawling everywhere. One night I was reading and she was asleep, she suddenly sat up and just stared at me. I asked her what’s up?

My wife doesn’t talk in her sleep, but I did wake up once to her sitting up, leaning over me and staring at me Paranormal Activity style. It was terrifying, and she has no recollection of it.

My fiancé is Chinese and didn’t have the best upbringing there. It is common for her to yell in a distressed tone in her sleep random Chinese phrases.

“We need to decapitate them and take them back to the lab.”

My SO informed me one morning that he had woken up in the middle of the night with my face inches from his, my finger in his ear and I was apparently whispering, “I just need to get in, let me in!”

“Are you texting demons?” Oddly high pitched laugh. “You’re friends with demons!”

My SO said she was going to the bathroom in the middle of the night. On her way back, I said, “It’s following you” and went back to sleep.

I’m the sleep talker but the best I’ve ever been told about was, “NO!! None of them have heads!”

“PUT IT AWAY. NOW.” (This was only our fourth night sleeping together and I didn’t even have anything out…)

Initially he just mumbled something I couldn’t understand. I turned around to face him and asked him what he had said. He responded in his sleep “don’t worry about it” and then laughed in this villainous way that I’ve never heard him use while awake. It honestly creeped me out.

[martinmcg]

FREEDOM

Gull idled. This was what she lived for, these moments high above Freedom, released from the city’s grasp. Pedalling just fast enough to keep her paracycle in the air, she circled and ignored the stall light fluttering orange on its console. The city span slowly around her, but Gull was not part of it.

Even here where the black towers of the corporations pressed against the dome’s sharply sloping roof, she could glimpse The Elle through the city’s artificial canyons. The needle at the heart of Freedom rose from Rhaeticus’s floor to the dome’s roof. Close up it was too large to comprehend, it was overwhelming, but from out here, on the edge, it seemed slender and graceful.

Lifting off her goggles, she twisted her head and stretched to look upwards to the point where The Elle met the top of the dome and passed through. It glowed, sunlight reflecting off its smooth white walls, throwing light into the shadows between the towers. It lifted Gull’s heart. The Elle was the only way out of Freedom. The Elle was escape.

Charlie’s plink-plink chime dragged Gull’s attention back to business. Confirmation had been received. Gull looked down and saw the delivery platform lowering, like an ancient drawbridge, below her. She pushed forward and the paracycle’s nose dipped.

Charlie’s carbon-fibre skeleton groaned softly as they picked up speed. Gull smiled, patting the cycle’s side. Charlie could take it. Gull pedalled harder into the dive, struts straining as she pushed closer to the cycle’s limits.

The wind ripped at her clothing and slapped at her cheeks. Gull’s smile broadened and curled, suddenly reckless, at one corner. She loved to fly. At her back the propeller blurred, its whine all but lost as the wind whipped at her and roared away.

Gull came in fast and tight, pointing Charlie’s nose directly at the landing platform. A warning sounded but she slapped the manual override. At the last possible moment, when it seemed certain she would dash herself against the platform, she yanked back on the stick all her might, hauling Charlie’s nose up and slapping him down hard on to the landing platform. The paracycle bounced once then twice – long, looping and languid in the Moon’s low gravity – then began skidding towards the edge of the platform and a three hundred metre drop. Gull leant against the stick, bringing Charlie’s nose round, bleeding speed, letting the tail slide out until it seemed certain the little glider would topple over the edge. Then she flicked on the magnetic anchor.

The paracycle juddered to a halt slamming Gull forward against her harness then back into her seat.

Gull leant back, dragged her goggles off over her shaven scalp, and pushed back the sweat from her forehead with both palms. The only sound was the soft whine of the paracycle’s propeller, still spinning freely. She patted the frame of the paracycle.

“Good boy, Charlie.”

She reached back and grabbed the parcel, popped the console from its docking port and stepped between Charlie’s carbon fibre ribs onto the landing platform.

The guards were obviously groundhogs. They were clumsy and squat in a way only those born in high gravity could be. Still wrapped in bulky muscles, they were fresh from Earth.

“Do you have a death wish?” One of the guards bounced awkwardly towards Gull. He cradled his rifle in one arm – like a pet. It was a sleek, black M10 and Gull’s opinion of the guard dropped even further. The M10 looked impressive but it had a kick like a jackhammer and if the dumb guard ever actually fired the thing on The Moon he’d be flying arse over tit all the way to Copernicus.

“A girl has got to have some fun,” she said, trying to keep the contempt from her voice.

The guard leered, something dirty on the tip of his tongue, but Gull looked into his eyes and met his gaze nervelessly. She dared him. The joke died, dry in his throat.

“Identification?” The guard tried to reassert himself.

She handed him her company ID.

The guard snapped opened the little case.

On one side was a chip containing her biometric details. The guard ignored it. On the right was a credit chip. He scanned the chip and checked the read out.

“One hundred dollars?” There was contempt in his voice.

Gull sighed. She knew this was going to happen. Groundhogs were always the most trouble.

“It’s one hundred dollars for you, one hundred dollars for the next guy, one hundred dollars for everyone. It’s the going rate. Check the market board.”

The guard shook his head. “This is a free market, I can charge what the market will bear.”

“Well, this market will only bear one hundred dollars,” she stepped away from him, lifting her parcel. “And one of your bosses is waiting for this. If you want to go to arbitration, you can explain to him why his package was late. Is that what you want?”

“Okay! ” The guard raised a hand, suddenly smiling. “You can’t blame a guy for trying.”

She could, but she wouldn’t.

“Can I go now,” Gull read the name on the guard’s badge, “Castor?”

“Sure,” he waved her away. “Look after yourself.”

“No one else will.”

*

It took several moments, but eventually Paitoon was able to open his eyes again. His lips were still making the shapes of a mantra as he tried to calm himself.

A man in a blue uniform was standing in front of him, a sympathetic smile on his face. Paitoon’s head only reached the level of the golden shield emblazoned on his chest. “Freedom Constabulary Inc.” it said.

“Sawatdee-krap,” Paitoon said, performing the wai – placing his hands together at chest height and bowing slightly.

“Constable Hayek, sir,” the man bowed slightly, he had sandy coloured hair and blue eyes. “Do you speak English or should I send for a translator?”

“Pardon,” Paitoon flushed. “No translator necessary. I speak English. My name is Paitoon, Paitoon Chattaponsiri“

The guard looked over his shoulder at the seething mass of people on the station concourse.

“Overwhelming isn’t it?”

“Incredible,” Paitoon nodded, letting his eyes close again for a moment. “I never imagined it could be so huge, so busy…”

“Is this your first time in Freedom?”

“My first time off Earth.”

“I thought so,” Hayek grinned. “You have family here?”

“No. Not yet,” Paitoon looked away. “I have escaped the war. I hope to earn enough to bring my family here soon.”

Constable Hayek nodded slowly.

“You have a job arranged?”

“Not yet, but I’m sure –”

Constable Hayek shook his head.

“Do you have the means to support yourself?” Hayek asked. Paitoon looked at him blankly. “Money? Do you have much money?”

“I spent almost everything I had to get here.”

The constable sighed. “Well then, I’m afraid I must mark you as an indigent migrant. Freedom does not restrict entry, but those who cannot pay for air and water must ­–”

“But I am a programmer,” Paitoon protested. “I am very good. I earn lots of money in Bangkok. I do good work.”

“How many of these people do you think programmers, Paitoon?” The constable said, shaking his head. “There are no jobs. Without money or a company registration you cannot get insurance. Without insurance you cannot get credit, you cannot rent property, you cannot get work. You will have no status. You would be better to go home.”

“Please…” Tears welled in Paitoon’s eyes. “My family. The war.”

Hayek ran a finger over his chin, thinking.

“I’m not supposed to do this,” the constable said. “But there might be a way. I know some people. It won’t be cheap.”

Paitoon reached into his pocket and showed Hayek a small bundle of credit chips.

The constable nodded and gave Paitoon a card and pointed to the back.

“Give this to a man called Kush at this address,” Hayek turned the card over and tapped it, an animated map sprang to life. “That’s how to get there from here.”

Paitoon bowed.

“Thank you very much,” he said, then remembered what the flight attendant had said to the passengers as they left The Elle. “Take care of yourself?”

Hayek laughed, shaking his head. “Look after yourself.”

“Sorry. Very sorry,” Paitoon bowed again. “Look after yourself.”

The constable nodded.

“No one else will.”

*

Dropping the package off took longer than Gull expected. The wage slave behind the reception desk seemed to have had a lobotomy.

By the time she finished her console was flashing frantically with queries from Buck about where she was and a list of jobs she was to bid for. She sighed and shoved open the door to the landing platform.

The first thing Gull noticed was that the guards were huddled in one corner giggling and scanning chips.

Then she saw her paracycle drop away from the landing pad.

“Charlie!”

At first she thought they’d turned off the magnetic tether and let the cycle be blown away, but then Charlie turned sharply right, his wings wobbling, and began to gain height. Gull saw a flash of black hair. Then the cycle swished around the edge of the tower and was gone.

“My ‘cycle,” she turned to the guards. “You bastards let someone steal Charlie.”

The guards had straightened up. They weren’t laughing anymore. Their rifles were levelled at Gull’s belly.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“Shit!” Gull turned back to the now empty open space of the landing pad. “Bastards!”

“If you don’t have any more business here madam, I’m afraid we’re going to have to ask you to leave.” The big guard, Castor, stepped forward. He was grinning.

“I paid you,” Gull said. “We had a contract.”

The guard shook his head and tossed her credit chip back to her. She caught it. It hadn’t been drained.

“It can be very dangerous up here. We wouldn’t want an accident, would we?”

Gull’s shoulders slumped. She nodded. The guards escorted her to the lift.

“Look after yourself,” the guards chorused as the doors slipped closed.

“No one else will,” Gull whispered to herself as she began her journey to The Floor.

*

“Freedom is a dream.”

Everyone who came to Freedom believed it, at least for a moment.

Clutching his only bag and the card the constable had given him, Paitoon forced his way through the mass of people milling around the elephantine columns at the exit to the Elle station.

He stood before The Monument to the Founders, a slender pile of polished golden chains rising fifty meters above the ground. Each chain was at least as thick as a man’s leg and every link had been burst open.

Beneath the monument was a plaque, ten meters tall, with the proclamation of the three laws.

“Freedom is a dream built by man’s imagination,” it began. Paitoon didn’t need to read the words. He knew them by heart. “The dream will be built on three laws. The market is free. What can be bought, may be sold. Do what you want, and so will I. From these simple rules will flow liberty and justice for all.”

Paitoon stood before those broken chains and thought of his family on Earth and of what he’d given up to get here. His father had told Paitoon not to leave the monastery. He had begged him to keep his promise and complete his three-month’s retreat in the sangha. But the war had come so close and there was no shame in leaving.

Paitoon took a final look at the monument and closed his eyes, offering a prayer that his father and his family would soon see it too.

*

Gull was pushed out through what felt like an airlock – one small metal door clanging closed behind her before another swung open – and stepped into what appeared to be a busy street market atop a dump.

This was The Floor. Rotting rubbish fluttered in tottering heaps and the stink forced Gull to pause and fight back the urge to puke. Crowds swept this way and that in fast-moving torrents, each eroding its own path through the rubbish. Between the mounds of detritus, market stalls were wedged up against the side of the towers or huddled on eyots in the heart of the flow of people. Some of the stalls sold food, fresh and cooked, some of them sold clothes or electronics or drugs or people. One or two appeared to be trying to sell the rubbish on which they were built.

She had survived down here before, she told herself, and got out. She could do it again. She could feel the comforting weight of Charlie’s console in her jacket. As long as she still had that, she had a link to his transponder and she could find him.

She needed a Mission. She needed The Church of Christ the Entrepreneur.

*

Kush greeted Paitoon with a broad smile, placed a heavy arm across his shoulders and swept him inside the hostel.

It was not as Paitoon had been expecting.

The ground floor was a busy club. Music thumped loudly, so that the whole room seemed to throb, and a large group of bored looking young men lounged by the bar. Paitoon could make out a few couples leaning close together in dark booths arranged against the wall and on a second level above.

Kush rushed Paitoon through to an elevator.

The elevator pinged and the doors opened onto a narrow corridor, thick red carpet covered the floor and walls.

“I’ll show you your room,” Kush led the way. “And then we can talk about your new job and how you can pay your way.”

*

Missions weren’t hard to find, signposts were on every corner. But the guys blocking Gull’s path meant that getting through The Mission doors was going to be expensive.

Gull could hold her own in a street fight, if she had to, but she was giving a hundred pounds to even the smallest of these guys. Anyway, the ordinance conspicuously strapped to their hips suggested they didn’t do fistfights.

The biggest guy grinned and held out his hand, palm up. Another groundhog. His skin even still had that brown tint that suggested naked, non-fatal exposure to the sun.

“Pay up.”

Gull’s mind raced. She couldn’t afford street tax.

The second thug stepped forward, he could have been the first one’s brother, or clone. He let his hand drop to rest on the handle of his pistol.

“Come on! Don’t waste our time.”

The third one held back, at first Gull hadn’t notice him. He was tall and slender and pale. A Lunie, born and bred, Gull reckoned. He had the lean, rat-like face of someone who’d spent too long on The Floor.

Gull wondered.

“I am looking for escort to The Mission. I cannot pay street tax but I have enough credit to pay one of you the going rate.”

The two groundhogs grinned stupidly at each other, shrugged, reaching for their guns.

“Contract?” The Lunie asked.

“Contract,” Gull replied.

“What?” The first groundhog turned in time to see the butt of the Lunie’s gun catch him flush on the bridge of the nose and drop him, his face a bubbling, bloody mess on the floor. He was trying to scream, a mixture of fury and pain, but his throat was full of his own blood.

As the second groundhog fumbled to drag his gun from its holster he found the sudden blade of a razor-thin knife pressing on his Adam’s apple.

“Drop the gun, Ronnie.” The heavy weapon thudded to the ground. The Lunie nodded at Gull. “Pick it up – and strip Duke as well, before he works out he isn’t dying. Make sure you get the piece in his boot.”

“You better kill me now, you piece of shit,” Ronnie was trying to talk without moving his throat, a trickle of blood was running down the groundhog’s neck.

The Lunie laughed.

“Ronnie, I’m going to take every weapon and credit you have and then I’m going to leave you down here on The Floor. If you pair of witless groundhogs survive long enough to see my face again – and I doubt it – then you’re welcome to do you worst. This lady is not paying me to kill you but, if there’s a next time, I might just do you for free.”

The Lunie kicked out the back of Ronnie’s knees and he collapsed to the ground.

“Thank you,” Gull said.

“No need for thanks as long as you can pay,” the Lunie said, then smiled. “I’m Laslo.”

“I’m Gull,” she looked at the two groundhogs. “What do want to do now?”

“Empty their pockets, then I’m all yours.”

*

They kept Paitoon awake for six days. Someone would punch him, someone would be nice to him, someone would kick him, someone would feed him. At first he’d been overwhelmed by the horror of it all. He’d cried and begged and promised them anything. But by the sixth day, Paitoon had gone cold. The pain and the misery were still there, but he had become detached. His real self was somewhere else.

The first time they raped him, tying his hands and feet to the legs of a table, he had frozen in horror and disbelief. He’d simply refused to accept that this could be really happening. Later he’d kicked and bit and scratched and screamed, fighting them with every ounce of his strength, to no effect. Finally he’d fallen silent again, numb and beyond the kind of pain they could inflict on his body.

“Will you take the job?” Kush asked him.

Paitoon just nodded. He’d been saying yes almost since the moment the beatings had started. He’d have said anything to get them to stop.

But this time he just nodded.

Kush grabbed a handful of Paitoon’s hair and pulled his head up, staring into Paitoon’s eyes.

“Will you take the job?”

“Yes,” Paitoon’s voice was a whisper.

Kush stared at him for a moment longer then let Paitoon’s head drop. Paitoon heard him leave the room.

Paitoon had said yes a thousand times, but this time Kush seemed satisfied. And Paitoon knew that it was because he meant it now. He’d do whatever they wanted. He should never have left the monastery. It was karma. He knew it.

Kush came back, holding a hypodermic.

“This is Zoom,” Kush said, pressing the needle into Paitoon’s arm. “You’ll like it.”

The world began to dance.

*

The lay accountant in The Mission had to check with a Brother before he let her access the grid without paying in advance. Gull explained that they’d make no money if her credit was stopped and the Brother smiled sweetly and nodded.

Gull called base and cleared things with Buck. Technical problems, she’d said, and promised to be back on station tomorrow. He bought it. That gave her credit for another day.

Behind her, the Brother coughed politely.

Gull turned. “I need to find a paracycle.”

The Brother bowed slightly.

“There are many paracycle dealers, the nearest –”

“No,” Gull cut him off. “I need to find a particular paracycle. Mine. It’s been stolen. Can you help?”

“I have sworn to help others,” the Brother said, reaching into his robes for a retinal reader, “and make a profit.”

Gull swiped the reader across her eye and keyed in a figure. It was everything she could afford. She handed it back to The Brother. He checked the figure and then showed it to the accountant.

“And I’ll need a taxi.”

“I am certain that the Lord will look favourably on your gift, my child.”

*

Castor was a regular. He came to the hostel twice a week and, since their first time together, he always asked for Paitoon. Paitoon didn’t mind Castor. He was quick, didn’t talk and always left a generous tip.

This visit started like all the others. Paitoon began to undress, thinking of the money and trying to judge if Kush would think he’d done enough to deserve today’s fix. He could feel the need slithering behind his eyes.

He wanted to zoom.

Paitoon turned and was surprised to see Castor unmoved, sitting on the bed, hands clasped between his knees, staring at the floor.

“I don’t even know your name,” Castor said.

Paitoon closed his eyes. He could cope with the sex, and the beatings, and the humiliation. Zooming helped. He could cope with the violence and the pain. For the times between fixes he’d built a wall in his mind. The things that happened outside the wall happened to someone else, not to him. But he hated the customers who wanted to talk, who behaved as though he was their friend. They chipped away at the wall. They made it all feel real. He hated them.

“I’d like to help you,” Castor said.

Through the window of the hostel room Paitoon could see down a long open canyon between Freedom’s high towers. A flyer bobbed and swooped like a bird.

“Can you get me out of here?” Paitoon said it bitterly, sarcastically. He knew he was trapped. He turned to face Castor. “Can you?”

The big man nodded. “I think so.”

Paitoon paused. That wasn’t what he’d expected.

“Why would you help me?”

Castor looked up, meeting Paitoon’s gaze for the first time. He was a boy.

“I love you,” Castor said very softly.

Paitoon turned back to the window.

“You could live with me,” Castor insisted.

Paitoon turned back.

“I love you too.”

“I knew it,” Castor leapt across the room and grasped Paitoon, pulling him closer. “I knew it!”

*

Gull had no time for the Church’s religion but she had to concede that they were efficient. Within ten minutes the Brother had returned with a small tracking device and an address.

“Your initial payment covers the use of this device,” he held out the tracker, “for a twenty-four hour period. If, by the end of that period, it has not been returned to a certified representative of The Church of Christ the Entrepreneur you will be charged at these additional rates.”

The Brother held out a pad. She thumbed down through the terms and conditions. The rental rates for the tracker were exorbitant but it didn’t matter. If she didn’t have Charlie back in twenty-four hours, The Church could join the back of the line of creditors who’d be queuing up for a pound of her flesh.

She blinked into the pad and handed it back.

The Brother nodded.

“A taxi has won the bidding for your contract. Are you ready to leave?”

“Tell him I’ll be ready in ten minutes,” Gull said. “There’s one more thing I need to do.”

*

Stealing the paracycle had been easy. Castor bribed the security crew to get Paitoon into the building and the receptionist to delay the girl while they busted the locks.

Flying the paracycle, though, was altogether more difficult. Paitoon wobbled off the tower’s landing pad easily enough and turned quickly to get out-of-sight, just in case the girl was armed, but almost at once he realised he was dangerously out of his depth.

The little flier was being buffeted back and forth between Freedom’s immense towers. Paitoon was swept back and forth, up and down, on an invisible, violent roller coaster of rocketing updrafts and plummeting downdrafts.

Paitoon gripped the control-stick in two pale-knuckled, sweat-slicked hands, hunched down in his seat, and pedalled harder. He looked down at the computer’s controls and, timidly, twitched the control stick to the left, altering course as instructed.

The console he’d plugged into the paracycle’s computer had been expensive but it was old and not perfectly compatible with these more modern systems. He had, however, been able to create a simple emulator to allow him to get most of the basic functions working. Later he’d reprogram the whole thing.

Suddenly, a slicing crosswind burst from between two towers. It caught the raised wingtip of the paracycle and flipped the flier over, filling the wings like a sail.

All across the computer console lights flashed a frantic red. Paitoon jerked at the control stick. The paracycle refused to respond. It wrenched, twisted and turned. Helpless, Paitoon was thrown about in his harness.

A downdraft ripped at the flier, tossing it, nose down, towards to distant floor. Paitoon felt the wind rip at his face. To one side a silver tower was so close he felt sure that he could reach out and touch it. Looking down, the gap between the tower and its neighbour appeared to narrow. Somewhere, down there, was The Floor. Paitoon closed his eyes. How long will I fall, he wondered.

But after a few moments he felt himself tugged sideways. The console beeped.

The paracyle jerked again.

The flier was levelling off.

The lights on the computer turned green.

Paitoon looked at the console screen. A message was flashing.

“Warning: Do not exceed aircraft tolerances. Emergency recovery procedures in effect.”

For a long moment, Paitoon gawped helplessly. He had not known that was possible. He patted the computer box and began to pedal again.

“Khawp khun, little flier.”

*

Getting inside had been easy. Gull showed the guards an empty parcel, her company identity and paid them with credit. They waved her through.

Inside, she tried to look like she knew where were she was going. She made confident, but not aggressive, eye contact with each of the groundhogs she met in the corridor. This was a company building. The same company that she’d called at this morning. Someone there had set this whole thing up. One of the guards? They hadn’t seemed smart enough.

She glanced at the tracker again. She was on the right floor. It must be just down that corridor.

Then the signal went dead.

Gull tapped the tracker against her palm.

Nothing.

She reset it, waiting nervously in the narrow corridor, trying to look like she belonged.

Still nothing.

She sighed.

She’d have to try every door on the floor and hope that someone recognised her.

*

Paitoon had finished making all the modifications and was getting ready to leave when the doorbell rang. He checked the room’s security system and saw a messenger girl in the corridor holding a parcel. He opened the door with his hand out, wondering whether Castor had ordered something else that he might be able to sell.

He stood there for a moment, arm extended, wondering why she wasn’t giving him the parcel? He looked up into the girl’s face. She was shaven-headed and had that deathly white shade that marked out real Lunies. They all looked the same to him.

Then the pieces clicked into place. He looked left, to where the paracycle sat folded against the wall and a wave of panic broke over him.

“Yet mang!” Paitoon tried to slam the door but it bounced back off the girl’s foot, jammed into the frame. Paitoon grabbed the door with both hands and tried to force it shut, but the girl slipped her body between the door and the frame.

“I want my cycle,” the girl said softly. “Just give me Charlie.”

Suddenly the pressure on the door increased. Paitoon was driven back across the room, scrabbling to stay on his feet. He crashed with a thud against the far wall. His hand brushed a bag full of Castor’s stuff. His gun was on top, just out of reach.

The girl was standing inside the doorway.

“I just want my ‘cycle,” she said.

Paitoon lunged for the gun.

Pfft!

An insect bit the side of his neck.

No. That was wr-

*

Gull weighed the stunner in her palm, looking down at the little Asian lying on the floor. She didn’t know enough about Earth to be able to say exactly where he was from, but she was fascinated by how fragile he seemed. He could have been a Lunie.

Gull checked the other rooms. She was cautious but, she reckoned, if there’d been anyone home the sound of the struggle at the door would have brought them running.

Her plan had been to take Charlie and leave, but when Gull saw that little guy had been hacking at the console, she realised she was going to have to wait until he woke up. He’d done something to the systems. She couldn’t make her console fit and she couldn’t fly the paracycle without it. He’d have to fix it.

Finding the bag full of credit chips, a stash of Zoom and a good quality pistol, all the way from earth – worth plenty of credits – had made her pause. That was an extra complication she’d liked. It wasn’t what she’d come for, but she decided she’d deserved the money for what the little guy had put her through. Today had been expensive as well as frustrating.

She propped the bag next to the door. She pushed the little thief up against the sofa on one side of the room and sat in an armchair opposite him, setting the stunner on her knee. Then she sorted out her insurance.

*

When Paitoon awoke he was slumped on the sofa. His arms and legs were numb. He could feel a stream of warm spittle pooling at the base of his neck. It was strangely comforting.

He looked up.

The girl, the one he’d stolen the paracycle from, was sitting opposite him. She had the stunner levelled at his chest.

Paitoon tried to move his arm, but it flopped uselessly at his side. He noticed the girl’s eyes flicker at the movement. She was nervous.

“Tell me what you’ve done to Charlie,” the girl said.

Paitoon shook his head.

“Whomf?” His lips and tongue felt as unresponsive as his arms and legs.

“The paracycle,” the girl waved the stunner towards the machine. “What have you done to the systems?”

“Maggin’ it c’mpabable…” Paitoon shook his head in frustration. The stuff was wearing off, but it was hard to speak.

The girl ignored him walking over to Charlie, poking suspiciously at the changes he made.

“Fix it.” She turned back towards him, waving the stunner. “Put it back.”

He shook his head.

“’s beddah!”

“What?”

“Beddah!” Paitoon tried nodding at the console.

“Better?”

*

Gull watched as Paitoon started working on Charlie.

Something was bothering her.

“How did you plan to get jobs?”

“Wha?” Paitoon looked up over the edge of the magnifying lens he was using while working on the electronics.

“Jobs?” Gull waved the stunner around. “How were you going to get jobs with the paracycle. You haven’t got a company registration.”

“I do not need one,” the little guy was smiling broadly. He tapped the console he’d jury-rigged to Charlie’s systems. “I’ve set it up to adopt a different registration identity for every bid. Each one looks like a platinum-rated ID. No one ever checks up on identities with a high-trust rating but even if they did, by the time they’ve blocked one bid I would have already moved on.”

“But the whole system depends on the market being secure, everyone knows it can’t be hacked. The encryption -“

“The encryption is intact. I cannot read other people’s messages. The network is secure, but people are not,” Paitoon was suddenly quite animated. “Each bid is supposed to be authorised with a unique registration identity as it leaves each company. But people get bored or lazy so they do them in batches with the same code key. My console scans the network for clumps of messages from one node sent at the same time. It can then compare the identifier codes and construct a valid pattern that fits within the pattern of the clump and attaches it to my bid.”

“So you can bid without a company?”

“Yes.”

“But someone will work it out eventually?”

“Perhaps. But by then I should have enough money to incorporate – and I’ll have a trust-level based on delivering platinum-rated contracts.”

“I don’t…” The girl’s forehead creased in concentration. Paitoon watched, interesting to see if she could work it out. “Ah, I get it. The bidding and the trust rating systems are separate. You bid with the fake corporate identity for the bid, but when you complete the order you present the console and take the payment and trust-points to you own identity –”

” – just like any sub-contractor,” Paitoon smiled.

“Smart,” the girl shook her head. “And you worked this out by yourself?”

“I’m a good programmer. No one would believe me when I arrived,” Paitoon looked away, a mournful expression on his face. “I earned a lot of money in Bangkok, before the war.”

“You know what that means,” she pointed to the console.

Paitoon nodded.

“Freedom,” they both said together.

Then the door opened.

*

Gull watched the guard come through the door, dumping a bag of gear on the floor, unaware of anything unusual. She recognised him at once.

“Hello Castor.”

“Huh?” Castor turned, confusion spreading across his face. It took a moment for him to spot Gull sitting in her seat opposite the door. It took a moment longer for recognition to be flash across his face. And it took longer still for him to realise that he should be reaching for his gun.

“Don’t move, Castor,” Gull waved the stunner as menacingly as she could. “Your friend Paitoon can tell you what sort of sting this thing can deliver.”

“How did she get in?” Castor was looking at Paitoon.

The little guy opened his mouth but Gull hushed him.

“You concentrate on my flier, Paitoon,” her eyes never left Castor. “You know for a building full of company guards, security around her is a joke.”

Castor grumbled something, and started scanning the room. His eyes fixed on the bag of credits and the gun. He took half a step.

“Don’t do it Castor!”

The guard just leered and began to reach down.

Pfft!

The stunner’s compressed air jet fired a needle into Castor’s chest.

Dunk!

That wasn’t right.

Castor laughed – opening his jacket to reveal his work uniform – mesh and body-armour – beneath. Gull could see the little needle futilely trying to pump its sac of venom into the unfeeling plastic.

He put his hand on the gun.

“Don’t do it Castor.”

Castor laughed harder.

“How long do you think it will take that little peashooter of yours to recharge? A lot less time than it will take me to load this – so screw you, you’re dead.”

Castor checked the pistol, it was unloaded. He reached into the bag, looking for a full clip. Then he stopped. He pulled out a watch and some jewellery.

“This is my stuff! But this was all in the vault. How did you get this stuff?”

“I didn’t,” Gull shrugged, looking at Paitoon. “He had it all packed up when I arrived.”

“Paitoon?”

“I was almost free,” the little guy didn’t look up from the work he was doing on the console.

“After all I did for you?”

At this Paitoon did look up and Gull could see the hate in his eyes.

Castor rocked back, his face an image first of abject misery that morphed quickly into fury. He delved into the back, coming up with a full clip.

“Stop, Castor,” Gull stepped towards him. “You don’t want to do this.”

“Shut up!” The guard swept out a heavy arm and caught Gull across the side of the head. She sprawled across the room, tripping over a sofa and dropping to her knees.

Gull reached for for her stunner, but it was gone.

“I think I’d like to invoke my insurance policy now,” she said.

Laslo stepped from his hiding place in Castor’s bedroom, two pistols levelled.

“Put down the gun, Castor,” Gull said.

*

Paitoon saw the stranger, another Lunie, step out of the darkness of the bedroom and heard Gull warn Castor but he could tell that, even if the guard was aware of what was happening around him, he wasn’t paying attention.

He watched Castor finally succeed in slamming the clip into the pistol, flip the safety and pull back the slide to put a bullet in the chamber.

“Stop it Castor!” Gull was shouting.

“Castor!” Paitoon tried to put himself between Castor and the Lunie. “Don’t do this!”

Castor’s eyes were fat with tears. His chin was trembling. He looked like a child having a tantrum. Castor brought the pistol up, pointing at Paitoon’s chest.

Gull said something that Paitoon couldn’t make out over the pounding of blood in his ears.

Crack! Crack!

Castor slumped back against the apartment wall. Two roses of blood blossomed on his chest. His pistol flew across the room, landing at Gull’s feet.

For a moment there was absolute silence.

Paitoon found himself kneeling beside Castor, cradling his hand, gazing into the piercing stare of dead eyes.

“You silly boy,” Paitoon whispered and found his throat constricting and his eyes burning.

*

“Does he have insurance?” Laslo leant over Castor’s dead body. Gull took the opportunity to dip and scoop Castor’s pistol from the floor. She slipped it into her waistband at the small of her back.

Paitoon looked up, trying to compose himself.

“Does he have insurance?” Laslo pointed one of his pistols at Paitoon’s head.

“Yes… no…”

“Which is it?” Laslo pressed the gun barrel into Paitoon’s forehead. “Retard!”

“Not for this,” Paitoon took a deep breath. “His company provided him with investigation and retribution insurance but it only covered him while he was on duty.”

“Good,” Laslo smiled, poking Castor’s arm with his boot. Then, satisfied that Castor was dead, he turned to Gull. “So, contract fulfilled?”

Gull nodded, suddenly aware that two pistols were pointing at her midriff.

“Well you can keep your cash,” Laslo grabbed Paitoon by the collar and dragged him to his feet. “I’ll take this retard, his little console and that bag, and we’ll call it quits.”

“No! Please!” Paitoon squirmed but the Lunie pressed the gun to his neck and he settled down.

“Get your console,” the Lunie pushed Paitoon across the room. “You are going to make me rich.”

“I can’t you let take him,” Gull said.

“You can’t stop me,” Laslo smiled broadly.

Slowly Gull began to reach around behind her back, feeling for the butt of the pistol. The smile disappeared from Laslo’s face.

“And if you so much as touch that gun you’ve got tucked back there, I’ll blow your stupid head off.”

Gull froze and was suddenly aware that she’d underestimated the Lunie.

“In fact, I think I might have to kill you anyway,” Laslo walked across the room, his spidery limbs picking a path between overturned furniture.

“There’s no profit in it,” Gull said, trying to meet Laslo’s gaze.

“But maybe I think that you know too much about the retard’s clever little machine,” Laslo raised a pistol. “Maybe you’d report me to the Chamber, just to get your own back.”

Gull tried to take a step backwards, but she was already pressed against the wall. She raised her hands.

“Laslo, I…”

The Lunie put a finger to his lips.

“Stop!” Paitoon yelped.

“Shut up retard!” Laslo didn’t even turn round and Gull’s view was blocked.

“This is your last warning!”

Laslo laughed.

“What are you going to do, little man?” Laslo glanced over his shoulder then stopped laughing, taking a step to one side.

Paitoon was clutching Gull’s stunner.

“That thing isn’t even charg-“

Pfft!

Laslo’s eyes rolled back in his head and his mouth dropped open. Then his knees trembled, gave and, slowly, he collapsed to the floor.

“That bastard was going to kill me,” Gull said, lashing out with her boot against Laslo’s unprotected sides. Then she stopped, and turned to look at Paitoon. “You saved my life!”

Then she turned to the wall and puked.

*

Paitoon brought the girl a drink of water and she rinsed her mouth.

“Thank you.”

“Mai pen rai,” Paitoon dipped into a wai. “You’re welcome.”

“So I guess we should get out of here.”

“I certainly do not wish to be around when he wakes up,” Paitoon nodded at Laslo.

“Mmm,” Gull wiped at her mouth, then she looked over at her paracycle, Charlie. “Is he fixed?”

“Yes,” Paitoon looked away. “I am sorry for the trouble I caused you.”

Gull wandered over to the work table and picked up Paitoon’s hacked console.

“Do you really think this thing will work?”

“I am certain of it, at least for a while.”

Gull took another three steps to where Charlie lay folded against the wall. She stroked the paracycle’s wings.

“I won’t be your slave,” Paitoon said. “I won’t live like that any more. If that’s what you expect, then you’d better kill me now, because I won’t work for you.”

“I’m not going to kill you.” Gull scratched at the stubble on the top of her head. “Did you enjoy your flight in Charlie?”

“It was terrifying!” Paitoon’s complexion paled visibly at the memory.

“Then maybe we do a deal,” Gull said. “You run the technology, I’ll do the flying and we share the profits. We’ll call it a cooperative.”

Paitoon’s eyes narrowed.

“But I thought you Lunies only looked after yourselves.”

“Can your scam make both of us rich?”

“I think so,” Paitoon nodded. “With luck.”

“Then if I look after you, I am looking after myself. Right?”

Paitoon smiled.

“Contract?” Gull held out a hand. “Contract,” Paitoon replied.

“Freedom” was first published in Jupiter SF #12

FREEDOM was originally published on Welcome To My World

[mdwatchestv]

Westworld 2x07: Robbin in the Cradle

I really don't like these silent previously ons as they only work to reinforce the idea that this show is really just a series of meaningless images. We really had a nice moment in the sun there with those two episodes that had tight central storylines, but now we have returned to the grim darkness of endlessly unspooling mythology and plot. To its credit though this episode did do quite a bit of explaining and even a bit of direct question answering, although of course those answers only led to new questions. What did we expect though honestly. I know I pledged to you at the beginning of this journey that I wouldn't look at anyone else's writing about this season, but I wound up having to use Insider's incredible Westworld Timeline (which you can see here) to orient myself before writing this.

The past few episodes have all taken place largely on the same "present" timeline, but it's not really the "present", as this episode reminded us there is an even more "present present". In case you forgot (as I sort of did), the REAL present timeline is the events happening eleven days after Ford's death, beginning with Bernard washing up on the beach. We still don't know how he got there, possibly it has something to do with the mass drowning of the other hosts. Everything else we have seen, Bernard and Shannon's super annoying hangouts, Maeve's epic journey to Shogun World, and Dolores' assault on the Mesa, has been a flashback. In our "present" timeline, the Eleven Days After Ford's Death, or 11 AF, we don't know the fates of Dolores or Maeve, we don't know where Abernathy's control unit is, and we don't know what happened to the other hosts. This episode opens in the most current present timeline, where Bernard and Luke Hemsworth have been brought back to the Mesa after finding Bernard on the beach. Luke has a bad feeling abut what's going on with Delos employees (Skarsgard, Fares Fares, Tessa Thompson), he thinks they care more about whatever tech they are trying to find than actually extracting anyone from the park. And how right he is, because no sooner does he make this declaration than the Delos crew cuff Bernard and Luke and drag them out to the secret cabin where Bernard killed Theresa in season one. Bernard is once again outed as a host in this location when a secret room is discovered FILLED with Bernard's own dead bodies. Oops. This was an interesting reveal because it shows Bernard has met a violent end many times before. Yes we saw him come back from a gunshot wound to the head, but the room of Bernard Bodies suggests that this is not the first time he has met an untimely fate. Now that Tessa Thompson knows Bernard's a host, she begins interrogating him regarding the location of Abernathy's control unit (containing the code that Delos desperately wants). Tessa wants Bernard to tell her what he remembers from Dolores' assault on the Mesa, when she took the control unit, and thusly the events of the rest of the episode are framed.

We now knowingly jump back to where we left off in the previous episode, with Dolores' group of rogue hosts storming the Mesa, Tessa trying to remove the control unit from Abernathy, and Bernard inside the cradle talking to Ford. Bernard and Ford proceed to have a very expositional conversation which actually provided some real answers! First of all we know now it was Ford's personality inside the red ball and this was all a part of his grand plan (obvi). He also tell's Bernard that while the human/host hybrid can't function in the physical world (ala Peter Mullan), that human programs can exist inside the cradle. Bernard also realizes the purpose of Westworld is to test human response and reaction in order to try and make coded copies of them. The hosts operate on loops as a 'control' so data about the visitors reactions can be taken. Delos is coding hosts and decoding guests! I bet someone was real proud of that turn of phrase, hey I would be. So what is the purpose of all this? Eternal life for those who can afford a copy of themselves? Could the cradle stand in as a sort of digital heaven, a San Junipero if you will? Ford tells Bernard that the oft talked about 'Valley Beyond' is the end of his story, and that Bernard knows there's no escape for him. In the cradle Ford also shows Bernard the finished version of the house he was building in an earlier flashback, the one in the mystery city that he brings Dolores to. Here we get another reveal that the letterbox scene at the beginning of last week's episode was Dolores testing  Bernard's fidelity, something she did within the cradle to help perfect Bernard's personality to Arnold's. I was surprised we got such a straightforward answer to this, and I assume we will be seeing more of Dolores' testing conversations with Bernard in episodes to come. Anyway the revelations end when Ford takes control of Bernard and hitches a ride in his control unit back into the real world to continue executing his plan.

Back on the ranch (literally), Maeve finds herself running once again from the Ghost Nation warriors with her daughter in tow. But as she hides with the little girl, who should come walking around the house than the Man in Black. It was the Man in Black's brutal assault on her and her daughter in a previous storyline that led to Maeve's malfunctioning and eventual reassignment to Sweetwater. The Man in Black and his crew have very conveniently arrived in the same village, also in pursuit of the Ghost Nation, at the same time that Maeve is reliving her most traumatic memory. Upon discovering Maeve, the MIB immediately suspects this is part of Ford's game, despite Maeve's believe she is acting independently. Even though Maeve is able to get some shots off against the MIB, and even turn his own men against him, I have to agree that the whole thing feels a little TOO coincidental to be chance. First the MIB reunites with his estranged daughter who blames him for the death of her mother, and then he just so happens to run into the daughter and mother he mercilessly destroyed in the park? The whole affair simply smacks of Ford's meddling. And yes, even though Maeve is in control of her own choices, she HAS been motivated purely by an overwhelming drive to find her daughter, a drive that stopped her from escaping and has set her on a very specific course through the park. ANYWAY Maeve almost succeeds in killing the MIB once in for all after she gets Clifton Collins Jr to recall all the abuse he has suffered at his hands in past storylines. The MIB is badly wounded when Simon's cavalry arrives, gunning down both CCJ and Maeve. In the fracas the Man in Black crawls away, and Maeve's daughter is once again inevitably captured by the Ghost Nation. Maeve however is rescued by Simon as he knows she is special, but also I think because he has gotten a bit attached to her.

Finally we arrive at Dolores' attack on the base, where she and her crew of hosts easily dispatch Coughlin's men. Their mission is both to secure Abernathy's control unit, and also destroy the Cradle thereby also destroying all the host backups and freeing them from ever being 'restored'. Bad!Teddy is on full display, and boy o boy is he bad and also hot! Capable, deadly, wearing all black, these are things I look for in a man. I don't know what Dolores is so butt hurt about, she made him SO much better! Dolores' takeover of the base culminates with her facing off against Luke Hemsworth and Tessa Thompson in the lab where Abernathy is being kept. Even though there is a nothing but animosity between the two characters, seeing Dolores and Tessa square off again made me think that maybe a Westworld/San Junipero IS a good idea. I AM JUST SAYING. Tessa is saved from a last minute lobotomy by Abernathy coming to and calling out to his daughter. Dolores and her father share a touching moment together before she tearfully kills him and takes his control unit. Elsewhere in the base the battle between host and solider rages on with Clementine getting fatally gunned down and Talulah Riley suffering a major wound. Talulah carries on her mission to destroy the core and is able to defeat one of Coughlin's soldiers (who has her cornered) through THE POWER OF SEDUCTION. Honestly this scene drove me crazy, like I know she is hot and all but this guy just watched her murder all of his comrades! She is a killer! Also she is standing in a pool of her own blood! There is a huge hole in her torso! Even though I appreciated her 'cool girl' monologue, I couldn't get behind that this tactic would actually work. I mean I know men are trash, but COME ON, how stupid can you be? Anyway she uses one of his grenades to blow up the cradle and the two of them in the process. Boy bai.

While this is happening Bernard, under the control of Ford, ditches Shannon Woodward and slaughters a ton of Delos dudes. He then proceeds to go to the map room and shuts down the entire park! Meanwhile on her way out Dolores runs into a wounded immobile Maeve lying on a stretcher. Dolores offers to kill Maeve and set her free from her pain, but Maeve insists she has made a promise (to her daughter). Methinks this is not the last time these two will cross paths. Simon is miraculously able to survive all of this via hiding, truly his abilities are cockroach-like. Now that we have seen the entire saga of Dolores' destruction of the base, we return to the present where Bernard tells Tessa the area location of Abernathy's control unit. Tessa is smug, thinking she finally has the upper hand, but of course we know that it is more than likely Ford is acting through Bernard to move the players around his game board. Bernard of course has no reason to know where Dolores is heading, after all as we saw ourselves the two had no interaction when she was in the base. The only way he knows where she is taking the control unit, is because Ford knows too.

Final thoughts, everything that is happening seems to be a part of Ford's master plan. Everyone, consciously or not, is playing his game. We know the conclusion to his narrative is at the Valley Beyond, but what that means or what his real designs are remain to be seen. Also it's notable that no one has successfully left the park, or really even tried to. Is this because, as I now suspect, the location of the parks makes easy exit near impossible? I wonder particularly why Luke Hemsworth, whose spidey senses are justifiably tingling, doesn't simply exit stage left. I miss Shogun World honestly.

XO MD

[mellomedia]

Mental Health Crisis in Media

This month’s blog post for Media & Society class is a good fit for what many people are dealing with during this never ending pandemic - the mental health crisis. Our list of films to watch were American Psycho, Donnie Darko, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, Black Swan, and Parasite. Mental health is something we all need to talk more about. We’ve come a long way since 1975 when One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest was produced, but sadly there’s still many misconceptions about mental health. Most people associate mental health with violent behavior. The vast majority of people with mental health problems are no more likely to be violent than anyone else (“Mental Health Myth,” 2017). 

In all of these films, the main characters are coping with a mental health issue. All of them go through a stage of catharsis by the end of the film. Once again, I learned a new word - catharsis. According to Dictionary.com, it is defined as the process of releasing and/or relieving from stronger repressed emotions. The purpose of catharsis is to bring about some form of positive change in the individual's life (Cherry, 2020). Since mental illness is so complex, there are many interpretations of what each viewer thinks someone went through by the end of each film. If you haven’t seen any of the films above, I’ll warn you now about spoiler alerts. 

For this assignment we were asked to pick two out of the five films mentioned above, explain the ending of each, and then discuss the connections between these films and their ambiguous endings. I’ll also explain whether I thought each main character went through catharsis. I decided to go with the two films I felt were more challenging for me to understand. I’d also like to add that the two films I’m going to write about really opened my mind to a deeper awareness of mental health. Chan School Dean Michelle Williams makes a powerful statement about mental health during the pandemic. “The past year has been terribly damaging to our collective mental health,” Williams said. “There is no vaccine for mental illness - It will be months, if not years before we are fully able to grasp the scope of the mental health issues born out of this pandemic” (Powell, 2021). Even though these films were all produced pre-pandemic, they provide a better understanding of what someone with mental health issues go through. 

First on my list is One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. The ending of this film definitely had multiple meanings. And I think it had many meanings based on how you perceived McMurphy’s existence at the mental hospital. The way I saw it, McMurphy was the ‘cool guy’ that the other patients looked up to. Throughout the film he shows the other patients they aren’t as mental as Nurse Ratched makes them feel. He “frees” each patient of their mental health issue by having them step out of their comfort zone and literally out of the mental hospital. One part that really gave me a whole different insight of mental illness is when McMurphy hi-jacked a bus with all the patients on it and brought them on a boat ride. As they board the boat, the owner of the shipyard approaches them asking who they are. McMurphy introduces them one by one, “Dr. Martini, Dr. Taber… .” Instead of mental patients THEY were the doctors. As he said each man’s name, they stood tall and proud. It really was a cool moment in the film. I was actually cheering for them in my head. Fast forward to the end of the film, McMurphy ends up getting punished for hosting an out of control party at the mental hospital. 

Normally the punishment would be shock therapy, but this time it was a frontal lobotomy. Chief is one of the patients that McMurphy became close with. They planned on escaping the mental facility together after the party. But when Chief saw McMurphy’s scars from the lobotomy, he knew he’d never be himself again. To “free” McMurphy, Chief suffocates him to death, just as McMurphy freed each of the patients he met during his stay. By freed, I mean they were temporarily freed of their mental health disorders, their fears, their anxieties. I do believe that the ending was cathartic for McMurphy. He was released of the suffering he would have to live with after the lobotomy. I was really hoping the ending went like this: McMurphy’s punishment was the usual shock therapy...Chief wakes him up and the two escape. In the closing scene you’d see them walking away from the mental health facility. But the actual ending had much more meaning and made me really understand mental health further. I have a very open mind about mental health issues - I never judge. But this film gave me a deeper understanding of how misunderstood mental health is. Each of the mental patients was dealing with their own anxiety - but how it is handled is key. Nurse Ratched kept each of them in their shell while “think outside the box” McMurphy put their anxiety right in front of them. With mental health, we really need to think outside the box more.

Next on my list is Black Swan. While we caught glimpses of Nina’s dual personality, it was in our face by the end of the film. Nina’s doppelganger is shown through the use of mirrors. We see how she sees herself and at times we see the evil side of her that is emerging. The mirror presented to her the darkness within herself that metaphorically depicted the evolution into the black swan (Nelson, 2013). The pain she inflicted on other people was actually herself. Between Nina being so repressed from herself, and her mom, she really had no chance of escaping her mental state. In my opinion, this film showed how mental health might be a coping mechanism. Nina’s mom kept her in a secluded, isolated world. Nina’s repression was learned from the person she was closest to - her mom. But as Lily and Thomas try to pull Nina out of her confined world, she starts to hurt herself. She’s only able to become the Black Swan after she stabs her perfect white swan self. The way I look at it, once Nina freed herself of who she was, she became who she wanted to be - the perfect ballerina who could fulfill the role of a lifetime. Unfortunately that freedom was death. As with McMurphy, Nina’s motives also led to catharsis by the end of the film. I was hoping that her catharsis was in her head and that she finally achieved her dual role of the swan. But in reality the only way Nina could do that was out of self mutilation and eventually suicide. So obviously I was hoping for a different ending of Black Swan, but it would not have had the eye-opening impact into the reality of mental health. 

What connects these two films is their ambiguous endings. I think it’s actually symbolic that a film about mental health has more than one interpretation. Mental health is a complex issue, which would only make sense for the film’s ending to be just as complex. As I mentioned already, I would have written happier endings where Nina realizes she can be both the black and white swan and McMurphy leaves the mental hospital with Chief. But then what would I have learned by endings like that? That everyone gets cured from mental health? That mental health is easy to overcome and prevent? It would send the wrong message. In fact it would send a stereotypical message that people struggling with mental health can easily be ‘fixed.’ Many people don’t understand the very basic concept of mental health - your brain is in control - often there is a chemical imbalance or genetic predisposition to mental health problems (newroadstrmnt, 2018). If you think you know what mental health is and looks like, I urge you to watch these films. They both really showed me a side of mental health I wasn’t aware of.  

On a side note, during this pandemic I learned about a very close friend who is going through depression. I had absolutely zero clue he was dealing with this. Just like I didn’t realize at first what Nina was dealing with. I am relieved he is talking to a professional and getting help. But I also know that might not be enough. I don’t harp on it but I always ask him how things are. If he’s having a bad day, I remind him he doesn’t have to deal with anything alone. If you have a friend that is struggling with something, don’t walk away from them. Just be there and listen. Remind them that it’s nothing to be embarrassed about and reaching out for help takes a lot of courage. 

Below is a photo of myself I tried some effects on. I was trying to find artwork to share that shows an imbalance of the brain - although that wasn’t my intention when I created it. 

Artwork by Marcello Laudato, 2017.

[syphineas-blog]

songbird 8 and 13

AU: wherein xerxes and jaewon are loversplaying: darling — maretu ft. hatsune mikuLet’s connect our hands, joining placesIn a fantastical confusion.Disease in brain!Dangerously developing!Wait, are you even listening, darling?

he was one to just let everything happen—let his impulse take control and the chaos to guide him. and always, he had never regretted any decision of his. not even when he lost half of his left leg because he had wanted to save someone. yet, there had been one decision that he found himself wanting to change—

he would always regret having kissed jaewon that day.

no one—not even he or jaewon—expected themselves in this position really. after all, he was the passenger who seek for freedom and let himself be taken in by chaos—whilst jaewon was someone who’d rather control and have peace. two ends of the spectrum, beliefs that clashed, and the obvious disdain they had for each other. of course everyone wouldn’t think they’d end up like this. it was almost like a unanimous decision that he would eventually leave serenity or jaewon would eventually snap and kick him out.

but here they were, in a relationship. all because one time they ended up arguing because that was the mood he had been in and jaewon’s not that difficult to rely on—which led to him just going in to crash his lips against jaewon because it had oddly felt right at that moment and to shut him up.  then jaewon responded back, and afterward they found themselves in a treacherous cycle.

a routine that included a lot more heated arguments, more forceful pushing of beliefs—yet now mixed with moments where everything fell into a need to lock lips, to release frustrations by making romantic gestures more violent, and with hate that’s now intertwined with love. it’s madness, harmful, and yet that was how they worked.

it’s ruining them. this dangerous game they played. yet, like smoking cigarettes, it’s addictive and difficult to stop. and he hated it, hated it so damn much. because jaewon and him—no matter how much they loved each other, they would despise as much and their views in life were too deeply rooted in them that they could not relent it for the other.

at times, he did think about it—delude himself into thinking that it was fine. that it was a magical, fairy-tale like romance. perform a self-lobotomy, ruin his mind for he could not exit this despairing love of their’s. but that would go against his conviction and he never wanted to lose to jaewon. perhaps, jaewon would have loved hyunseung more than xerxes. for hyunseung would listen, and hyunseung would never fight back. hyunseung would be a follower when xerxes would never, and he never understood why jaewon couldn’t find someone like hyunseung than stick with him.

truthfully, he had brought forth the topic of ending this messed up whatever-it-was they had. but jaewon pretended not to listen, and he would just end up too frustrated by the lack of answers. despite that, he had a feeling he understood why. because he could easily end this by leaving serenity and just saying goodbye  to it all, but complicated emotions screwed over any healthy plans or the sort.

so, he’d allow himself one chain only. apologized to xorvea internally for letting such a thing to happen, but he would never let jaewon know. he’d deteriorate as he fought, but at least he waged a war. looking at jaewon, eyes lit with defiance and smirk so feral, he said “well then darling, i’d like to see you try.”

screw it, he never liked thinking too much about anything much anyways.

AU: xerxes and jaewon met each other during childhoodtw: slavery, death, warplaying: i am “end” — sakuzyo

i.he could recall the first time he met jaewon, a kid sitting inside a box and so much like a blank canvas that was just waiting to be painted on. but at that time, he had been a kid who lived in valluria and wanted to survive. so he snarled at the younger boy, trying to be as scary as he could be “what do you want? go away, go somewhere else!”

“i have nowhere, i have nothing.”

the response he got was different from other kids, but there’s something about this boy’s gaze that screamed of potential. and he could not help but think it’d be such a waste of a chance to not take in the other. so he smirked once his decision was made.

“welcome to the club.”

ii.after that faithful meeting, it’s become a hobby to watch the boy—jaewon—grow. jaewon’s got a certain eye to things, adapting to this cruel world of their’s with more finesse than others. he would see their ragtag group becoming much more organized, and much more ready to survive as they gain more profit. they’re more like a gang of criminals now, and there’s no designated leaders—but he found himself thinking that jaewon would be a wondrous one.

it did not matter that he was older, because he had a feeling that each of them noticed the power in him. and he knew that jaewon would be that one person they’d listen to. even if he very much prefer the idea of freedom more so than being a follower—there’s an exception only meant for jaewon.

so they grew, and sometimes he wondered whether they could become something greater. this crew of street rats that formed because they had nowhere else or nothing to go back to. but the he remembered that the land they stood on was valluria, and valluria was cruel to it’s inhabitants.

iii.it happened so suddenly, the massacre of the closest thing he could call family. he wasn’t there when it happened, because he had decided to head out as he was simply in the mood to do so. they said to not go because it was dangerous, but in the end it had been their hideout that would be the worst place to be in. was it a stroke of good or bad luck, he wondered. for he’s free from death’s clutches but the rest was sacrificed. 

yet he left, because he could not stay in such a place longer. not only because their deaths would slowly ruin him, but also because the predators would always come back to it. 

and he was right, the murderers came back. what he didn’t know was that jaewon had been there just after he left and was whisked away by those vile beings.

iv.he cursed as he found himself caught by the slave traders. he was silenced by them gagging him, locking him down with chains and shackles. they’d think he’d be able to get them nice cash because they deemed his face pretty enough for at least an extra penny. but all he wanted to do was break his bonds and mutilate their faces. because he would not be chained down and be a blasted slave for anyone.

there was a blessing in disguise, though. as in that treacherous place, he spotted a familiar face as badly caged as him. and for a moment, he’s silent as his breath got caught in his throat and emotions ready to burst out of him. 

because that’s jaewon, and he’s alive. and jaewon’s as fierces as ever even if he could see a much too similar haunted look in the other eyes that he could see by looking at his reflection. the boy’s now the only one he got in his life, and that’s what gave him hope. and he knew these men that had them locked would suffer for jaewon was a riot and he was not any better.

maybe jaewon had seen him, maybe he had not, but he vowed that he’d get out of this gorram’ hellhole with jaewon.

v.for once, the pretty face is a blessing because they don’t touch it and try not to hurt him too badly. he took advantage of it, obviously, and would annoy and play with fire on a constant basis. the first and only time they had been read to brand a slave trade number on him, he created hell to the people in the same space as him.

and even as he was handed to a master who had a sleazy grin and dirty hands, he could tell that the guy was weak and that the body guards he had was crap. how the man still was alive in valluria, only god or whatever asshole up there knew.

so he ended the man’s life for them. pretended to be a pretty little thing for the span of when he was taken in by the man as a slave, and then until they got their own private space. he would have wanted to do worse, to make it painful, but he must head back to get jaewon first. and he had tried his best to ingrain the route in his mind, so that once he’d done he knew the way back.

it’s rather sad how he escaped easily, the ‘master’ was an idiot to have hired the worst bodyguards ever. at least, it was fortunate on his end as this made the escape more easy. although, returning to the sight of a damn spaceship having a war with the slaves was one that he did not expect. he was reckless, though, so he rushed into fray—for once, not getting into the fighting, snatching a weapon in between, and searching for jaewon frantically. he did spot him, shooting at people and he almost got shot too—had the other not stopped and saw his face. 

he grinned wildly, and for a brief moment the battle faded to behind the scenes. but just as he did, he steeled himself “i think we’re both in an agreement that we got to get the hell out of here.”

vi.they did get the hell out of there, thanks to the woman that had been leading the crew. when she had asked them about which side they were on, both of them didn’t hesitate to say the same answer. anything’s better than valluria, the land of war, where he got that horrid mark on him ( that he so desperately just wanted to scratch it out because it’s a brand of his freedom being taken away and that’s not something he ever wanted ), and the grave of people he cared so much about.

the lady isn’t so soft on him as she was with jaewon. but that’s probably because he was much more chaotic and wild. he was the fighter, the one who would rather be unbound and cause mayhem despite his peaceful and easy-going disposition when he wasn’t. out of valluria, he’s grown much more tranquil and the captain would have kicked him out if he didn’t. 

he wouldn’t let himself get kicked out, though. because the idea of not being around jaewon was terrifying. they were both survivors of their tragedy, and it felt better to know that there was someone around who understood him. so he calmed himself down, watch jaewon as he grow to become far better than if he stayed in valluria, and he listened to the rules of the captain almost obediently—but he’d only ever allow himself one leader and that position has been taken already.

he glanced at jaewon again, saw his ambitions rose and how the captain was leaving the knowledge for him to become the one to take her role once she decided to resign. that role was most definitely taken.

vii.joining the war wasn’t really something he had wanted to do. but the idea of losing jaewon, the only one he had from back then, was terrifying. so he signed up for it alongside jaewon, even if he knew this was not for him. he was never good with listening to orders from either side, and he would have preferred to be a neutral party more so than anything else. because even if the alliance seek to rule the verse with an iron fist, he had already decided to rebel no matter what. but not with others, not under the rule of another. it’s just how he was, he rather to be an individual than to fall into any group.

even so, he fought with all his might. not quite making the leaps jaewon had, for he was no leader, but a fighter that was known to be ruthless and the end of many others. jaewon would e the beginning, the one who commanded others and he would become the end, the one to unleash pandemonium and eliminate lives. jaewon’s capable of being the ‘end’, but he liked to think that he was better in that role at least. 

unfortunately, the war ended with their loss. there’s too many lives lost and sometimes he thought that his hands weren’t his skin but drenched in a phantom red. horrified faces would be etched into his mind, yet at the same time he could not be bothered. this was what they had all signed up for when they got into war, and he knew it could not be helped.

maybe he’s become too cold-hearted, but that could be blamed on how his life had been one of horrors after horrors. still, he followed jaewon as the man would trudge across the bloody lands of serenity valley. then soon came the vow that escaped from the other lips “i’ll never fall under the boot of the empire. never.”

and there’s so much more to the statement, a conviction to it that he could understand.  despite the corpses that surrounded them, how disgustingly red his boots were now ( or was he just imagining that like he did with his hands? ) he grinned “i know.”

because he wouldn’t have decided that jaewon would be the only man he followed if the guy had not been defiant and determined.

viii.“serenity. that’s the name of the ship now.” jaewon would tell him, and he understood. watching jaewon for nearly all his life had made it far too easy to read and the unspoken words were as loud as the screams of the war that still rang in his ears. 

“aye, captain.” he accepted the reason that was not voiced. this was their new beginning, and again, jaewon’s leading it.

and again, he will become ‘end’ to anyone who tried to disrupt what jaewon built up. because jaewon would bring the only peace and control that he could accept.