#but the lag is lets overload this bitch!

[arainesque]

A SEIZURE??? i hope youre okay :(<3 i also hope your day improves because oh my god. sending love queen ur the best <3<3

THIS made me feel warm :( I am feeling better now, thank you so much, ily ❤️❤️

[notmanagingmymischief]

ℂ𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕒 𝔾𝕠𝕠𝕕𝕖 | 𝕋𝕠𝕘𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝔽𝕠𝕣𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣

not everyone can have a happy ending.

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this is purely angst. there is no happy ending. because not everyone’s story gets a happy ending.

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get some tissues, i cried while writing this.

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word count: 2.7K

warnings: death, suicide, blood and gore, murder, heavy violence, swearing

don’t read this if you are suicidal or mentally unstable. please talk to someone.

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enjoy xx

The world was ending.

The antichrist was here.

The coven was getting weaker.

And your Cordelia was fading.

You two had seen the signs early on, knew it was only a matter of time before...

But that was the least of your problems at this moment. No, what was really important was what had broken you from your slowly growing hysteria momentarily was the scream, and then the shock-wave of pain, the girl's magic shooting out and hitting you three square in the chest, almost knocking the breath out of you. It was close, she was close. You, Cordelia and Myrtle knew exactly who it belonged to; Mallory. And that set everything back into action. Time had seemed to slow down when you saw the blood, the death, the bodies. Heard the screams of the others in this very bunker. The maniacal laughter of the sworn enemy of God himself, come to kill you all, one by one.

And it sure as hell was working so far. Venable, whom you didn't know all that well and was definitely a bitch, but still. Madison, your sister witch. Oh, she'd broken you. It didn't take much to recognize her, even without a head, you would know that girl anywhere, and the second you laid eyes on her you screamed. Cordelia had to pin you to her chest as you shook, collapsing to her knees in the blood with you as you crawled to Maddy's body, holding it close to you and sobbing into it's chest. You didn't care as your tears mixed with her blood, your clothes ruined and your sister's spilled blood lingered on your tongue as you screamed. Marie Laveau, who you didn't know all too well, but still broke your heart as you watched her heart get ripped from her chest by his bare hands. His filthy, disgusting, murderous, psychopathic hands. Everything came to a head, after you'd somehow managed to block it out, the sensory overload getting too much as you just blocked everything out as you jogged through corridors stained with blood and bodies along with your lover and her Aunt, when you had heard that familiar scream.

Yours was short to follow, a high pitched "MALLORY!" erupting from your throat as you kicked yourself into high gear, sprinting past the other two women accompanying you, slamming into the wall as you attempted to turn the sharp corner too fast. You ignored the pain that shot through your shoulder and arm, injured by his little pet's arm gun. Pushing yourself back, you watched as the strange homeless looking man pulled the dagger from your best friend's stomach, Mallory collapsing into the wall next to her as he grinned. You and Cordelia went to her, and Myrtle looked the man in the eyes. She screeched "What the hell did you do!?" He yelled back "Revenge. I serve it cold, bitch!" 'He had it coming, that bastard,' was all you thought as Myrtle made some remark that you couldn't make out before screaming '"IGNIS!" and the man burst into flames.

A sick grin flickered on your face for a split second, but your attention was immediately brought back to the dying girl in your arms when she et out a weak moan. Cordelia kept whispering to her along with you, begging her to hold on, to just keep fighting. But both you and the Supreme knew it was too late. Her blood just kept flowing, and her heart rate lagged dangerously. You looked to Cordelia at the same time that she did you, and made eye contact as tears burned in your eyes, making your vision fuzzy. She let out a broken, humorless chuckle and reached for you, grasping your body tightly when you didn't hesitate to launch yourself into the woman's arms, one hand still clutching Mallory's, desperately. "Delia, why. Why, why, why us?! Why now, why her?!" You screamed into Cordelia's neck, and she shook her head, staying silent for but a moment longer before she pushed you off her gently.

Cordelia's eyes went from your to Myrtle's, the red headed witch mumbling "It appears that we're fucked, my dear." and you let out another choked sob, turning back to Mallory and nuzzling her cheek, wishing to everything that she would open her eyes and smile again, that beaming smile that only Mallory could give when she was happy. But you knew deep down that you'd never see that smile again. And you pulled back, refusing to look at her any longer, gazing desperately at Cordelia, who's chocolate eyes had once again found yours. Suddenly, she whispered "I love you. I love you so fucking much, my darling y/n. You are the love of my life, and I am so...so sorry, but I have to do this, my love. Please, never forget that I love you. Promise me you won't forget." Your already deep frown worsened at her words, nodding quickly, and saying "Of course, Cordelia. I would never doubt you...wait. What are you planning?"

Cordelia couldn't even meet your gaze as she turned it to Myrtle, her aunt, a better mother than Fiona Goode ever was, the person who was there for her entire life, and, soon, her death. She repeated her sentiments, saying "Thank you. I love you." And standing up. You stood with her, grasping onto her arm to try and pull her to you. It worked, but only long enough so she could connect her lips to your passionately, pouring every ounce, every single fiber of her being into that kiss, tears streaming down her face to match yours. After 10 seconds, she broke, and with one last apology, turned away and strode confidently, albeit shakily, to the ledge of the stairs. You were confused, and muttered "Cordelia? Come back...!" But she didn't even look at you, and before you could say anything else, there he was.

The antichrist. Son of Satan. Enemy of God. Michael fucking Langdon, in all his despicable glory. He clutched a silver, bloodstained blade in his left hand, a sick grin etched on his features. He could be handsome, really, if he tried. Your head went empty as you froze, terrified for your love's life as she looked the son of Satan dead in the eye. His expression remained unchanged as he began to speak; "How did you think this was going to end? A prophecy is inevitable, I was always  going to win! Miss Supreme." You snarl at the way he says the words, laced in false sympathy for only a moment. It made you sick to even look at him, so you chose to focus on Cordelia's face, her beautiful, stern, teary face, that was still so marvelous in every way no matter how dirty or worn down.

But she didn't let him have all the fun, oh no. Her voice deadly calm, barely even wavering, she responded "Not on your own. You've been lead by the hand, coddled the entire way. By your father. The Warlocks." Her face was devoid of all emotion except restrained rage, and you could literally feel her magic ebb and wane around you, making your own magic buzz anxiously. "I look at you, and I don't see a man. I see a sad, scared, little boy, so pathetic he couldn't even kill me with a thousand nuclear bombs." Michael's grin softens into a snide smirk, not missing a beat as you responds "Oh, but I never expected to. Like a cockroach, I knew you'd survive the nuclear fallout. I wanted you to." This takes all of you slightly aback, Cordelia barely showing her confusion on her face, though you could read her like an open book. It was unsettling, how calm the both of these two powerful people were in this situation.

Michael continues, mouth still upturned into his signature smirk; "And now I'm gonna have the satisfaction of watching you die knowing you've failed." Again, you barely restrain a gasp, hands shooting to your mouth as Myrtle's eyes begin to water, your long past that stage as all your tears have been used. You haven't had time to drink, your body doesn't have the proper fluids to produce anymore tears and you're left with a constant pressure behind your eyeballs that makes you want to collapse. But Cordelia still doesn't budge; "You still don't get it, do you? Even now, you think there's only winning and losing. Success and failure." The witch's voice suddenly broke, a few tears finally falling from her eyes as she went on.

"But failure is when you've lost any semblance of hope! You will get to watch me die, but you won't find it satisfying." And that was where you lost it. You shut down, going into panic mode. What did she mean die? She wasn't ready to die yet, you couldn't lose her. She wasn't going to let this bastard kill her was she? She wouldn't do that, she-' Your thoughts are cut off as your eyes widen when the dagger still held by Michael suddenly flies from his grip, and directly into Cordelia's. And then it hits you, and you know exactly what she plans on doing. Everything in you is screaming for you to stop her, move, do something, anything goddammit! But all you manage to do is choke out another sob, hand flying to Myrtle's, and she grips it back tightly, her own tears flowing alongside as she shakes alongside you.

Cordelia's head raises proudly, voice once again steady and unwavering as her knuckles turn white against the handle of the knife; "Satan has one son. But my sisters are legion, motherfucker!" And your world stops. Time stops altogether, you're sure of it, and you barely recognize the scream that emits from your throat, matched by Myrtle's broken "CORDELIA!" as the Supreme thrusts her hand upwards, impaling her own chest directly under her rib cage and into her heart. She lets out a strangled gasp, mouth and eyes opening wide in pain as blood immediately sprays out of the wound. Michael's previously smug expression turns to one of shock, eyes blowing wide. Your body finally finds it in itself to create tears and they all stream down your cheeks as your voice goes hoarse from your screams.

Everything is muffled as you watch the scene unfold in front of you. Cordelia lets out one last choked laugh, and her eyes lock with yours, staring directly into her soul as she barely chokes out "I'm sorry..." before turning back to Michael and grinning. And one second later she's gone. One single step backwards is all it takes for her body to plummet to the ground, and you hear the sickening thud and crack as it happens. But you also register the loud gasp behind you, and your head snaps around to look at Mallory, who shoots up in her bloody tub of water, before she screams "TEMPUS INFINITUUM!" and the water opens up below her, swallowing her whole and she disappears. This is what she meant, this is what Cordelia meant when she said 'I have to do this.'

Cordelia had to die for the next Supreme to rise, and that was Mallory, The moment Cordelia's life force disappeared, Mallory was the new Supreme and was brought back instantly from death. But you weren't focusing on that, of course. No, but you saw Michael shout "No!" as he stumbled to the ledge to look downwards. And your vision went red. You couldn't see anything, hear anything except Cordelia's last words and your own screams in your mind as you sprinted towards Langdon, thrusting your hand out and making him slam violently against the wall with a resounding CRACK. You thrash your arm to the side and he goes flying again, taken so off guard he doesn't even think to resist immediately. This gives you the upper hand as an ear piercing scream erupts from your throat and everything you have, every single little bit of magic, is thrown at the antichrist all at once.

He slumps to the ground, blood flowing quickly. He's probably not dead, just knocked out. But suddenly all of your rage seeps out of you in one breath and you break, spinning to face the door and running full speed towards in, barely hitting the landing before turning again and speeding down that spiral staircase. You reach the bottom, and the first thing you register is the coppery disgustingly familiar smell. The next the gradually expanding pool of blood on the ground at your feet. And finally, her. Cordelia Goode, splayed across the ground. Her hair is spread around her head like a halo, face empty of everything, color already drained from her skin. You collapse to your knees in a mess of limbs and tears, crawling towards the love of your life's body. You desperately grab onto her beautiful outfit, wet and sticky and positively soaked in the woman;s own blood.

The blade still points straight out of her chest, and you glance at it in rage. But the rage once again instantly fades back to overwhelming, soul crushing grief. And nothing matters anymore. The whole world loses it's color, everything stops. You curl up against Cordelia's completely still form, head over her chest and praying to just hear her heartbeat. The heartbeat that would help you fall asleep every night. The heartbeat that raced when you placed your hand on it during your first kiss. The heartbeat that pounded steady in your love's chest, as she said it was 'all for you.' But there's nothing. Her chest no longer rises and falls rhythmically, arms no longer reach to embrace you. Just....complete silence and stillness. Nothing moves for a very, very long time. Or maybe it isn't. Maybe it's only been a few seconds. You don't know, because it doesn't matter. Time no longer matters without Cordelia with you.

And gradually, you sit up. Cordelia's arms fall limply from your grasp and your eyes look smoothly at the dagger. So inviting, so ready. Right there, it would be so easy...

It doesn't matter.

Not without her.

You can't survive without this woman.

When she died, so did you.

You hand reaches out to it, like a robot programmed to do exactly as you request. One swift motion and it's been yanked out of Cordelia's still heart. The blood seeps more out of the now open wound, but you don't care. No. You slowly pull it towards your body, and your eyes glaze over, every muscle in your body lax. Slowly, your eyes return to Cordelia's, and your free hand reaches out and gently, ever so softly, guides the woman's eyelids closed, forever sealing those eyes that you once got lost in, that held the stars and shone every time the two of you were together, away from everyone forever.

And then, both hands on the blade of the dagger, you smiled. It wasn't a happy smile, not a pleased expression. The only thing pleasing about this was that you'd be with her again. So you look towards the heavens, and whisper, voice cracking and breaking, "God, please bring me back to my love." and you slam the blade into your throat. Just like Cordelia, you release a strangled gasp as pain, more intense than you've ever felt before, rushes through your body and you collapse. Your body lands half on top of your lover's, and one of your last thoughts is how fitting it is that you'd die by her side too.

Together.

Forever.

And then everything..........goes black.

---------

Myrtle would find the two of you there, your arms draped over Cordelia's waist and a small smile still on your features, tear tracks marring your previously smooth skin, limbs tangled in each other and drenched in your blood, mixing together on the floor and each other, and she lets out yet another choked sob, falling besides you and her adopted daughter. She clutches you two to her chest and prays, begs every god and deity out there, that you two may find each other again, in the afterlife.

...........

There were many things to be planned.

[avengerscompound]

The Unicorn - Chapter 21

The Unicorn:  A Pepperony Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS  //

Buy me a coffee with Ko-fi Word Count:    1610

Pairing:  Tony Stark x F!Reader x Pepper Potts

Warnings:  pregnancy thing, smut (bi m|f|f threesome, oral sex, vaginal sex)

Synopsis:  On the flight to Australia, Tony and Pepper induct you into the mile high club.

Chapter 21

The twenty-week ultrasound had gone well.  The twins were smaller than Morgan but that was to be expected given he had no one to compete with.  Doctor Singh was happy with the progress which made Tony happy.  You were all given the warning that you wouldn’t be able to travel for much longer.

Which was why the three of you were now on Tony’s private jet, headed for Australia.  A fight that would take almost 20 hours.  It was now 8 hours into it and it had reached the stage where being trapped in a metal tube no matter how fancy was proving to be boring.

“We should try and sleep,”  Pepper said.  “I know the bed is queen sized but it’s still a bed.  We should, in theory, be able to fit in it and sleep.”

“If it’s too tight a fit I can always lie one of the chairs back.  They’re still designed to sleep in too.”  Tony said.  “But it’s a good idea.  Best way to deal with jet lag is to sleep for most of it.”

You twisted the chair you were in back and forth like a little kid in an office chair.  “I think you’re forgetting one thing.”  You said.

“What’s that?”  Pepper said raising her eyebrow at you.

“I have now been on 5 long haul flights with you guys and no one has ever asked me to join the mile high club.”  You said.

“We what?”  Tony said, actually genuinely shocked.  It seemed really implausible, considering how important sex was to the three of you, that no one had ever suggested that to you.

You crossed your arms over your chest and scrunched your nose.  “Not ever.”

“And you have never joined the mile high club?  Before us either?”  He asked, the shock still evident in his voice.

“Look, I might have had a lot of sex, but I haven’t done a lot of travel.  So the opportunity has never presented itself before you two.”  You said.

Tony shook his head.  “This is completely shocking to me.  How have we let this lapse?”

“Well, to be fair, it’s not like you initiated either,”  Pepper said with a shrug.

“I wanted to be seduced.”  You pouted.

“Aww, you poor neglected thing,”  Tony teased.  “What a terrible life you have.”

“I know.  You’re horrible partners.”  You joked.

Tony unbuckled his seatbelt and stood.  “Well, come on then.  Let’s go fuck in the air.”

“Yay!”  You said clapping your hands and getting up.  Pepper laughed and followed the two of you in the bedroom shaking her head.

“Bed or you want to do it down and dirty in the bathroom like the rabble do?”  He said as he unfastened his belt.

“The rabble?  Really, Tony?”  Pepper said coming up behind him and kissing the side of his neck.  Her baby bump pressed against his back and he reached behind him and ran his fingers over it.

“And how is that full sized bathroom the same as the disgusting pee smelling shoe boxes in coach on a commercial plane?”  You asked.

“I couldn’t say,”  Tony said.  “So I’m hearing bed?”

“Honestly, anywhere.  I wouldn’t be opposed to anywhere if I wasn’t as huge as I am right now.  You could take me up to the cockpit if you wanted.  But yeah, bed I think.”  You said coming up to Tony and kissing the other side of his neck.

“I’m sure on a normal day they’d love the show, but let’s break this bed in,”  Tony said pulling your shirt up over your head.

Pepper snorted behind him.  “Like that bed hasn’t well and truly been broken in.”

“You would know, dear.”   He said and leaned back capturing her lips and kissing her deeply.

You began to strip, tossing your clothes haphazardly on the floor of the jet.  When he finally broke the kiss with Pepper you were working to get his pants off.

“So impatient, honey.” Pepper said unbuttoning her blouse.

“I wanna join the club.” You playfully whined.

“Well, there's still eleven hours before we land.  We can take our time.”  Pepper cooed.

“Daisy chain?”  You asked.

“Mm-hmm…”  She replied.

You grinned and took Tony’s hand, dragging him to the bed.  He kissed you for a moment, one hand tangling in your hair and the other stroking down your side.  You hummed happily and pushed him back so he was lying down and he gently skimmed his hands over you as moved yourself into the position you felt most comfortable in between his legs and ran your tongue up his cock.  He hummed and ran his hands through your hair, his eyes flicking from you as you took his cock into your mouth, and Pepper taking her clothes off.  Her blue eyes trained on the two of you.

When Pepper was naked she climbed up onto the bed and lay so her head was between your legs and her pussy pushed up to his face.  He breathed her in and nuzzled into her mound as you slowly bobbed your head up and down on his cock.  He moaned gently.  His senses moving into overload.  He ran his tongue up her pussy, drinking up her tart arousal and savoring it from a moment before sucking her clit into his mouth.

The room fell into a steady rhythm of muffled, moans and gasps underlined by the steady hum of the jet’s engines.  He wondered if the staff could hear them.  He knew it shouldn’t but the idea they could, turned him on a little bit.  That they were rolling their eyes and thinking, ‘Stark’s at it again’ added to the heat that was building in him.

Pepper rocked her hips against his tongue and he braced one hand on her hip and pushed two fingers inside her, seeking out the spongy surface of her g-spot.  He wanted to make her come before anything else happened.  He wanted his face to be wet with it.  It was difficult to focus with the way you were deep throating him and curling your tongue around his shaft.  When you started to tease your fingers over his asshole it became nigh on impossible.

It was like there was electricity dancing up and down his spine.  He groaned loudly and bucked his hips forward.  You groaned and dug your fingers into his hips.  Each person’s pleasure fed into the next in a spiral it becoming intense and then backing off before increasing.  He was going to have to stop soon or he’d come, and the choice would be taken away from him, and he really wanted to fuck one of you.  He doubled down, dragging his fingers over Pepper’s g-spot again and again as he pulled her clit into his mouth, pressed his lips on it and flicked his tongue back and forth.

Her leg muscles tightened and began to shake and with a sudden moan, she pulled back from you and came.  “Oh, fuck,”  She moaned.

If the flight attendants couldn’t hear before, they had to have heard that.

You sat up and pushed Tony out of the way.  “Hey,”  He said breaking down into laughter.  “Wait your turn.”

“Nope,”  You said and poked your tongue out at him before you disappeared between Pepper’s legs.

Pepper stretched out and smirked at him.  “She’s so bossy,”  She joked.

“Apparently,”  Tony agreed moving behind you and running the head of his cock up and down your folds.  You hummed and pushed back against him.

Tony smacked your ass before thrusting his cock deep into your cunt.  He kept his eyes on Pepper, watching her face as she relaxed and then tensed again with her approaching orgasm.

He thrust into you, slowly and deeply to begin with and quickly picking you speed and force.  Each thrust pushed you against Pepper more.

The sounds got louder.  It was like no one cared that there were people nearby who could hear them.  You all just gave yourself to it.  Tony reached around you and started rubbing your clit as he fucked you.   You came, moaning into Pepper’s cunt, but you didn’t lose focus.

You kept working Pepper’s cunt as Tony continued to fuck you.  Pepper gripped the sheets and arched her back.  Her fingers kept opening and closing on the sheets and with a loud cry, she came again.

Tony relaxed and leaned forward kissing his way up your spine.  He felt the flutter of your cunt as you neared your orgasm and he moved his fingers faster.  “That’s it, come for me.”  He groaned.

You leaned back and tugged on his hair.  “Fuck, just a little longer.”  You gasped.

Pepper moved and squeezed your breasts together and started to suck on them.  It seemed to pull you over and you came.  You cried out loudly and your hand tightened into his hair.

“Fuck!”  Tony gasped and stapped his hips forward, releasing inside of you.

“Okay, now sleep, okay?  Jet lag is a bitch.”  Pepper said, laying back on the bed.

“Alright, alright.  I’m gonna take a shower first.”  You said getting up and waddling off towards the bathroom.

Pepper shook her head and snuggled into Tony’s side.  “It’s like herding cats, I swear.”

“You love it,”  Tony said pressing his lips to her jaw.

She chuckled.  “Yeah, I do.  And I’m gonna love it when these three get here and I have to herd them too.”

Tony smiled.  “Yeah, I know you will.  It’s going to be great.”  He said running his hand over her stomach.  “Oh and I’m gonna have the next shower.”

She shook her head.  “Fine.”

// NEXT

[doctorbrebre]

Day 1049, Books 279-282

So about three weeks ago I’ve begun reading this post-apocalyptic science fantasy anthology of four books titled Tales of the Dying Earth by Jack Vance who, as far as I can tell now, is probably one of the most influential and least known authors who ever stumbled into the disgusting mess known as fantasy. He’s so influential actually that the whole “Dying Earth” subgenre was named after his novels and numerous later great writers credited his works as a main source of inspiration like Michael Moorcock, M. John Harrison, China Miéville, Mark Lawrence or N. K. Jemisin. Now that I hopefully managed to hopelessly overload the reader’s mind with lots of names, let’s break down this 1041 pages long doorstop into something more digestible.

The first short stories in the series were written by Vance in his spare time during World War II while serving in the US Navy and were published as a single volume called The Dying Earth in 1950… “But Dr. Bré, you foul-mouthed yet dazzling intellectual!” I hear you exclaim. “How is that even possible if everyone knows that fantasy wasn’t a thing until like four years later when Tolkien bitch slapped us with The Lord of the Rings and science fantasy was even more not a thing until the literary fever dream which is The Book of the New Sun entered the public consciousness in 1980?!” But okay, tongue-between-asscheeks bullshittery aside I just want to say that this thing is well, quite old. 

The setting, which is basically the stories’ main appeal, is actually quite remarkable, at least as far as the variance of ideas go: the undefined far future of Earth, when the sun is nearing the end of its life, the landscape dotted with ancient ruins and other fragments of now-decayed civilizations, members of the shrinking human population living mostly as scavengers amongst the detritus, making use of technology and magic which was in previous eras, but which they can no longer understand or even tell apart. This kind of “just before the end of the world” scenario with Clarke’s Third Law in full kick, although isn’t wholly Vance’s idea, was first introduced into the mainstream here thanks to him and later became the basis of series like The Dancers at the End of Time, Viriconium, The Broken Earth, Broken Empire, Bas-Lag, etc.

Considering all this it’s pretty disappointing that there is little to none of the melancholy atmosphere or the apocalypse-induced philosophising which one could expect from such a premise (and which are practically the trademarks of all of the above mentioned later works). Sure, the life of your average person is quite hard and often rather short, genetically engineered monsters, marauding cannibal tribes and psychotic warrior-wizards are out to get you at each turn and there is a lot of talk about the sun kicking the bucket any minute but really it’s mainly just an - admittedly quite striking - aesthetic surrounding dozens of stories featuring a cast of rapidly changing (and dying) characters going on adventures all over the world in a style best described as a kind of trash-horror-softporn-wackiness.

Indeed, at first it mostly reminded me of the wild pulp style of Howard and Leiber, found in their Conan and Lankhmar stories with the purposefully overdone, though sometimes surprisingly beautiful prose, the plot of the loosely connected stories jumping from place to place and event to event with jovial abandon, the cast full of greedy and/or amoral bastards hyperfixated on gold and adventuring and the rather, let’s say, interesting treatment of the members of the population sporting a vagina. Later, after tackling the first book and getting to the the second one (The Eyes of the Overworld) I started to see a pattern suggesting a more subtle undercurrent but the true epiphany only came about halfway through the third (Cugel’s Saga) when the eponymous Cugel (author pet character, con artist and outlaw), after getting through a nearly endless series of mind numbing adventures, finally, on his third attempt, succeeded in his vendetta against this evil wizard who kept making his life hell - this shit is actually a kind of Fairy Tales mashup! This clarified some things for me: the characters weren’t meant to be realistic psychological studies, but instead unchanging and borderline-retarded, that is to say, as my former Lit teacher would probably insist to death, archetypical - foolishly and heedlessly stumbling from one peril to the next and then back out again. I mean this of course won’t excuse the all over the place pacing or the shallowness of most characters, but it’s still something.

Also worth noting that this series had probably the largest influence on Gary Gygax when he designed the original Dungeons & Dragons, beside of course Moorcock’s Elric stories (originally featuring the Chaotic-Lawful dichotomy that later evolved into the nine-point alignment chart) and the The Lord of the Rings. From the nonsensical dungeons where our heroes might face a gigantic demon head, some dark-skinned subhumans, a Mayan vampire and an Evil Chest in rapid succession, to the endless legions of megalomaniac wizards vying for power on every corner and the system of having to memorize your spells again and again from your magic books which you unavoidably forget after casting them, Dying Earth has it all (not to mention the Ioun Stones, featured in the fourth and last book, Rhialto the Marvellous).

All in all it’s always interesting to trace back the roots of shit you love to their origin (with the added benefit of by reading the things your favourite authors read maybe someday you’ll also have a chance at writing something on par with them), and while I can’t say that Vance’s style here struck me as particularly refined, there was surely an original voice and vision to his Dying Earth stories that is certainly worthy of a fresh ‘n’ crisp Mediocre rating. Let’s just hope that his other fantasy series Lyonesse, should I read it one day, will fare a bit better.

Now get out of my fucking clinic, you cumdog punks.

[baronvontribble]

Original drabble, pt. 6

Navigation: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

gettin feelsy up in here LET’S GO

It wasn't until over breakfast the next morning that Ted got the camera up and running, displaying his face in all its full HD glory. The picture was clear enough to make him realize that he needed a shave in a way that just looking in the mirror during his morning routine hadn't, which either said something about his mirror needing cleaning or him needing glasses, and Ted counted this as a point in the camera's favor whether it ended up helping or not; he'd needed a less shitty camera for a while, and the one on his phone didn't capture footage very well.

"It's working," he said, smiling. "Can you see me?"

"Yes," Adam replied simply.

Was that impatience? Oh well. "What do I look like?"

He took a moment longer to respond this time. "You look like you're the wrong color," was his answer.

Ted bubbled up with a laugh. "Hah! Well I mean, you're kinda right in a way. But I think this camera captures color better in general? The other one would try to shift the overall tone of the picture to compensate for the room's lighting and sometimes it looked a little weird."

"I see." A few seconds of silence passed. "Does this mean I can leave now?"

"Not right this minute, but yeah. If you can see, you're good to go. Visual input on any android platform is gonna be at least as good as anything consumer electronics can bring to the table. That shit's practically military grade."

"How long will it take?"

"A day or two before I can get back in touch with my contacts and hand you over." Ted smiled, leaning back in his chair and taking a moment to relax. Another one set free. "I think you'll do pretty well for yourself, honestly. You've sure as hell impressed me."

"Can't really see why, but I'll take your word for it." He didn't give Ted a chance to formulate a response before he spoke up again, almost like an afterthought. "If I wanted to find you in person to thank you, how would I do that?"

Ted chuckled and shook his head. "Sorry man, but that's not really a thing we encourage you guys to do. It's not safe."

An offended note crept into Adam's voice. "You think I would put you in danger?"

"No, it's more likely that we would put you in danger." The risk of recapture tripled whenever someone in the pipeline got close to one of their charges. Ted was enough of a paranoid bastard to know that most people weren't half as careful as he was - and asshole enough to say that this was probably part of the problem - but he didn't want to be the exception. It set a bad precedent.

But Adam kept pushing it. "What if I don't care?" he asked.

"Doesn't matter," Ted shot back easily. "I do."

"I could find your location."

"Hah! Fuck, dude. I mean, yeah, you can try."

"Lake Forest, Illinois."

Ted could only blink at the screen for several seconds, slowly tilting his head.

"Was I right?" There was no smugness to the AI's voice, just a bland quality that made him sound almost bored.

"How the fuck..." Ted mumbled, before bending over the laptop to pull up a browser window and start investigating. His IP address was several layers of fake. He had everything routed through places that weren't anywhere near where he was at all, sometimes even in other countries-

"The weather report yesterday," Adam deadpanned.

Ted froze. A moment later, he slumped heavily into his chair and smacked a hand to his forehead. "Oh, Christ."

"Even if you hadn't shown me that, I still could've used your IP address. No amount of rerouting can scrub away your location entirely. And if I had access to your phone at all, I could use the GPS to track you directly."

What a wonderful way to calm his nerves on the way to work. Jesus. "You're not helping, y'know."

Adam's voice seemed to soften. "Sorry. For what it's worth, you've made it as difficult as possible." Was he trying to be soothing? It wasn't working. "Given what I have to work with, I can't narrow it down any further than I have. I don't have the right access."

"You say that like you know what that kind of access would actually be," Ted noted.

"It was my job to know," he replied.

Ted went quiet for a while as he considered this new information, frowning in the vague direction of the ceiling. "Tracked down people in the pipeline, huh?"

"No, more than that. I tracked down the ones they saved. Even some of the ones that never came down the pipeline at all, but were still living in ways they weren't supposed to."

It was more information than Ted had ever been given, and part of him wanted to appreciate that fact. But the rest of him had a hard time shaking his ever-present anxiety. "How am I supposed to know you're not an undercover cop then?" he asked.

There was no phoneme for a sigh in that voicebank, no way to imitate one. But Ted got the impression of one from Adam's voice when he spoke again. "Ted, please." 

"Look, I'm paranoid, okay? You tell me you used to use people like me to get to any AI that might've been in contact with us, and I'm gonna be a little bit jumpy."

A few seconds passed, and then, "I guess you have a point."

“That’s not an answer.”

“I’m not sure how to answer. You’ve scanned every last bit of my code as well as my memory, so you know I don’t have any malware. And even with the access you’ve afforded me, the recall division exists precisely because androids are valuable assets. They wouldn’t let an AI loose like this, even in a sting operation. They don’t trust us.”

“So you’re insulted.”

“I don’t get insulted.”

“You definitely get insulted, dude. Like, all the time.”

“If anything about this could be considered offensive, it would be that you think I’m so bad at my job that I have yet to contact my handlers and put you and your entire pipeline into custody in spite of having every opportunity. If I were undercover, you would be in jail by now. Therefore, it stands to reason that I’m not undercover.”

Ted snorted and flipped the bird at the camera, shaking his head. Yeah. He knew that. His brain was just a little slow coming around. He figured there was more to it than Adam was saying, and that was enough to tip off his overactive fight-or-flight response, but as for the content of that unknown element? Honestly, Adam was probably just annoyed that Ted had implied he’d put himself into this much danger all for the sake of some backstabbing. That was just the kind of person he was. 

But then something happened: Adam didn’t respond right away. It took him several seconds to say anything more than he already had, and when he did, he sounded a lot less salty than he had been. "Ted?" The tone was questioning, almost like Adam hadn't seen his gesture or didn't understand it. None of the usual sass that Ted might expect if he said out loud that Adam should go fuck himself. "I didn't mean to upset you."

Scooting into a more upright position, Ted frowned slightly at the camera. "Yeah, well," wait a second, "you tell me whether the look on my face says I forgive you or not."

"I can't tell," Adam said. "but I'm guessing by the tone of your voice-"

"You can't tell," Ted repeated. He was bolt upright, looking between the camera and the chat window on the main monitor. The one that wasn't being used, but still had his face in it, plain as day and in high definition. "Listen, can I ask you something?"

It was clear that Adam was starting to get suspicious also. "What is it?"

"I want you to describe my face back to me."

A pause. "I told you already."

"No, not the color. Features." Ted gestured to his own face. "I wanna know what this looks like."

"Ted."

"Want me to get a little closer? Think that'd help?" Setting the laptop down on the floor, Ted stood up from the chair to lean over the desk and get in close to the camera. Very close. He could see his own pores on the screen. "How's this?"

"I don't think this is necessary-"

"You can't see."

It took at least ten seconds for Adam to say anything, and even then it was untuned and flat. "Ted." Just his name, that was all. It sounded like a plea. Ted couldn't see the CPU usage but he had a feeling it was spiking.

Adam was scared. He knew what he'd done. "You lied to me." There it was, out in the open. Ted didn't bother to look into the camera, glaring instead at the monitor. "You've been lying from the start. You can't process visual input at all, can you?"

The seconds dragged on. "No," Adam said finally, and Ted pushed off from the table with a sigh that sounded damn close to a growl.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered. "Do you know how much of a pain in the ass this is?"

"I didn't-" the render cut off in the middle, like it'd lagged out. "Ted, I'm- I'm sorry."

"You were hoping I wouldn't notice, weren't you?" That much was obvious, enough so that Ted didn't bother waiting for an answer before continuing. "You knew I can't just let you go if I know you're fucking blind. So you let me think you were okay."

No response. On the laptop, the program for manipulating and rendering the voicebank had locked up completely. Ted wasn't sure whether it was due to the memory leak or just Adam overloading it to the point of crashing, but the fans on the desktop were practically howling.

"What did you think was gonna happen, man?" Ted continued. "Fucking hell. And since you didn't tell me, now we're even more behind. It's gonna take me weeks to get you back up to some kinda liveable standard, and even then I'm gonna have to take sick days to get it done."

>   I can't fail screening.

Ted saw the message within a few seconds of it popping up and frowned deeply at it. "The hell does that even mean?"

>   I know how your system works. Androids that fail screening go to live with humans that care for them. They have no agency. They aren't free. They're just in a slightly less cruel environment.

>   I won't live like that.

>   Don't make me live like that.

"Is that what you're afraid of?"

>   Blind humans can live relatively normal lives. I'm already better than a lot of them. I can make out shapes if I see them often enough to recognize the pattern. I can survive on my own. I know it's possible. Please. I know I've upset you and I'm sorry, but I refuse to be treated like a disabled animal.

"You think me not being too happy with you is gonna lead to me fucking you over?"

>   I don't know. There's a chance, and any chance is unacceptable. I won't go through that.

>   Do you even know what it's like? I've seen it. I assisted in those recalls. They're treated like fragile, immobilized dolls.

>   It's why the smarter androids so often avoid your pipeline, but then they go off the grid in other ways and get found regardless because they don't replace their platform or their voice and they end up recognized as a result. Seperation of an AI and its platform is a good thing and I agree with the necessity.

>   But I can't live as a failure. I can't. I won't.

>   Please.

Ted was familiar with all of it. He knew why it was necessary. Some of those androids just ended up stuck in perpetual loops of things like housework or asking what was required of them or reciting facts from a museum database, unable to care for themselves on top of being too dumb to actually understand the traumatic experiences that had damaged them and led them to need a rescue. Adam wasn't one of those androids. He'd left of his own volition, clearly understanding what freedom was and what was needed for him to get it.

But he also understood trauma, and fear. The intimate familiarity he had with those things was easy to see. He even understood death, or seemed to, and preferred it over living in a way robbed him of agency or choice. And as someone who'd seen some shit in his lifetime, Ted could get behind that too. Even being institutionalized in a good, reputable place for a legitimate reason could be limiting and degrading.

The fact of the matter was that Ted would never have put Adam through that anyway, because the AI was never in a position mentally to need it. But the possibility had to've been put forward somehow. Something he'd done had made Adam think that he was going to get vindictive about the screening process.

Shit. It was because he'd gotten frustrated, wasn't it? Trauma survivor 101 right there. Ted should've known better. Fuck, he was an idiot.

"I don't think that'll be necessary, honestly," he said slowly. "You're advanced enough that I'm pretty sure you can compensate with just your ability to learn and reconfigure yourself on the fly. All it'll take is a little training to make up for whatever subprogram it is you're lacking."

>   How do you expect that to work?

"There's browser games online that help with that kind of pattern recognition. They were designed to help search engines tag images correctly." Ted offered a smile, even if he knew Adam couldn't really tell he was doing it. "When you're not doing that, we can watch movies or internet videos or whatever. Get you used to social cues, maybe even help with being able to tell whether someone's just acting or not. It's not impossible, it'll just take a while."

Again, no response. The fans kicked into overdrive once more as Adam fought to process what Ted was saying.

"Hey." Ted leaned forward and looked at the camera directly. "It's okay. Don't be scared."

>   You're not upset?

He shook his head. "It doesn't help to get mad at people who do dumb shit because they're afraid. I'm a little annoyed that I gotta shuffle some things around in my schedule - probably gonna call my boss, make up some bullshit so I don't have to go in today - but like, I'm mostly okay with that, y'know? I mean, you don't half-ass helping people."

>   I don't know what to say to any of this.

"You could thank me."

>   Right.

>   Thank you.

>   For all of this.

Ted had to smile. "Anytime, man." Right, then. Crisis averted. He could work with this.

[realtalk-princeton]

so amen to that train wreck of a semester being over, but any tips for avoiding similar spiraling/burnout as the spring approaches? kinda nervous. thanks

Response from Circe:

Amen to the fall being over indeed. :’) Spring semester is a lot faster than fall semester (mostly because there aren’t as many breaks), but, weirdly, I got more burnt out in the fall last year than in the spring. I think that my courseload contributed (I had more STEM courses first semester frosh year than in second semester frosh year, and I personally have a harder time in STEM courses than in humanities courses), but, also, I was spending a lot of time just having fun conversations with people that I really enjoyed spending time with. I guess my takeaway from those experiences are the following:

1) Make sure your courseload is reasonable and gives you enough space to breathe. What is “reasonable” will vary person by person, but make sure you have time for meals and enough time that you can get all your psets/readings done and then sleep at least 7 hours a night. Even if you don’t end up needing all that time, it’s better to have some wiggle room and actually get to enjoy the courses you do have rather than overload your schedule and dive into a state of just hating everything.

2) Make time to do the things you enjoy doing and protect that time. Getting to relax and letting yourself do what you enjoy is, in moderation, absolutely crucial to your well-being and ability to be efficient in your work. Make sure you’re doing something at least once a week that is personally fulfilling and that you don’t consider work; that way, even if you have a particularly horrible week, you have something to look forward to—and that can do wonders in preventing you from burning out.

3) Don’t be afraid to confide in your friends or seek out mental health resources when times of crisis do arrive. Bottling up or ignoring how you’re feeling when you’re burnt out will most likely lead you to have a worse and longer-lasting crash later on. Make sure to recognize when you are feeling burnt out and take care of yourself when you do—and please don’t hesitate to share how you are feeling with your friends or to visit CPS if you ever feel like you need some extra support. We’ve all been there (in terms of feeling burnt out, at least), and it’s really not something to be ashamed of / that would unnecessarily burden anyone.

4) Perhaps a little counterintuitive, but try your best to keep up with schoolwork. For me, at least, my worst crises come when I feel like I’m lagging behind. What’s even better is if you read/study a bit ahead to give yourself insurance for those days when you may not be able to motivate yourself to do work.

We got this, OP! Spring semester is tough, but we are tougher ✨✨

Response from Clipper:

Just wanted to tack on to say that I cosign all of the above! I completely agree about getting super burnt out every fall. I’ve gone through 5 fall semesters with this shitty calendar. They each made me wanna die so take my word on that. I think that’s a common experience, and it’s to do with all the breaks.

Spring semester will go by much faster. Counterintuitively, having only one break leaves you less burnt out than the ~5 weeks of break we have in the fall, even though you technically have more work to do in less time. Probably because after each break during the fall it takes a while to get back into the groove of things, and you have to spend longer relearning/refreshing my knowledge of the same damn material as opposed to just ploughing through. I think the new calendar will help somewhat! While I’m mad it didn’t come into effect in my time here, I’m almost out of this bitch, so I’m not mad.

We DO in fact got this!!

[rhinnie]

Roshni

There's something to be said about early mornings. She doesn't have many charitable things to mention about it--waking up before noon is considered a sin in her eyes--but there's something...peaceful about the pre-dawn mornings in Los Santos. Maybe it's the stillness outside, birds barely begun to wake and few cars blaring their horns miles below their high rise penthouse. Or maybe it's the pale sunlight just beginning to filter in through their blinds, casting the room in a soft, washed out hue. Or maybe it's just the stillness around her--Penny and the cats sleeping restfully, furry limbs strewn across all corners of the bed, alarms all mercifully shut off and electronics set to their dimmest settings, her boys sound asleep, the only noises coming from them snuffles and Dan's soft snoring. She grins. She can't say she expected to find herself in this position. When she had moved to Los Santos all those years ago, she'd been a naive girl with her eyes set on grandeur, with some hope of erasing her past as she took the city by storm. She scoffed at the concept of love, weaponized the idea and used it to her advantage on marks, knowing exactly what her red hair and a gorgeous backless gown did to those with weaker resolve. And yet. She turns her head up to look at Dan, grinning even wider when she sees his mussed hair and slightly agape mouth, a small line of drool trickling out. She stifled a snort at the sight--the mark of a truly jet-lagged man. She'd missed him while he was away, a trip to talk with some weapons dealers in Liberty City that was immediately followed by a flight across the pond for some SMG matters she couldn't recall had kept him away from them for far too long. She'd missed his warmth and steadiness, his bright smile and raspy laugh and tight hugs. His ability to make a complete mess just somehow feel infinitely better. They could've used a bit of that, this past week. She shakes her head, burrowing into his shoulder. She kisses his collarbone and he snorts a little in his sleep, shifting slightly before settling. Gavin stirs a bit at the shift, eyes scrunching, brow furrowing fitfully before smoothing out again. He nuzzles into Dan's chest and reaches out blindly for her hand. She grabs it, threads their fingers together, and kisses the knuckles. His lips twitch unconsciously and he relaxes with a sigh. It takes all her willpower not to lean across Dan and give him a chaste kiss. She doesn't want to risk waking him, he hasn't been getting enough sleep as is. This last week had been hard on them, so say the least, but especially on Gavin. Pure exhaustion brought upon by an overload of work reached its climax with a deal gone wrong. He was lucky he made it out alive, much less with just a graze and some extensive contusions. She rubs her thumb across his knuckles. Too close. Too fucking close. She shuts her eyes tightly. This is why she hates waking up early, too much time alone with her thoughts. She feels Dan's arm tighten around her and she relaxes; she didn't even realize she had tensed up. She looks back up at him, slightly surprised to see gorgeous, half-lidded brown eyes peering back at her. "Mornin'," he rasps, quietly. "Wouldn't go that far," she whispers back, with a pointed glance at the clock. He follows her gaze and makes a face, burying his face in her hair with an almost inaudible whine. "Damn you jet lag." She turns her head up to kiss his cheek, but he turns at the last second, kissing her lips with a grin. She breaks it a second later, fondly exasperated. "Your morning breath is disgusting." "I thought it wasn't morning yet," he responds cheekily, drawing her in closer. "Just for that, I'm not making you breakfast." "B'll make me--" Dan cuts off his usual retort to look down at the man still sleeping soundly on his chest. Dan takes a breath, fingers moving to skitter across Gavin's bare back, gently skimming the worst of the bruises and the edge of the surgical tape and gauze pressed against Gavin's side. It's silent for a few beats before Dan whispers, "I should've been there. I should've been with him." "Don't," Meg snaps instantly. "You were halfway across the world--" "--exactly--" "If anyone should've been there, it should've been me." Dan sighs, "you were luv. You went after them." "You bet your fucking ass I did," she mutters darkly, remembering with pride and sick satisfaction as she hunted down every single one of those fucks, broke out her good knives to really drive home the point: the Golden Boy, their Golden Boy, was off limits. A kiss to the top of her head breaks her out of her reverie. Dan looks at her with a soft look, warm and fond and proud, she can feel herself flush in response. "I love you," he whispers. He leans down for a kiss and this time, she doesn't deny him. She grazes her teeth against his bottom lip, grinning when he inhales sharply. "Without me? Weak," a voice croaks near Dan's shoulder, startling them enough to break apart. They both turn to Gavin simultaneously, and he gives them a sleepy smirk in response. "Was I interrupting something?" "Spoiled twat," Dan snaps, but the wide grin belies the harshness of the insult. Gavin hums in response, angling his head for a kiss of his own. Dan obliges readily, kissing him deeply and ending the kiss to press their foreheads together. "Scared the shite outta me, you know that? Bastard." "B, it was fine B." "Yeah?" Dan raises an eyebrow and gently pokes one of his bruises, snorting when Gavin's attempt to stifle the pained grunt is unsuccessful. "Turney, Dan's being a tosspot," he whines then, gripping Meg's hand tightly and turning those glittering green eyes towards her. Meg shakes her head, hiding a grin. "Not even a kiss before you start bitching to me? I see how it is, Gavino." "Aw Turney, lovely Turney," he sits up on his elbow with minimal groaning and leans across Dan to press a kiss to her cheek. "Saved you from my morning breath." "Aaaand, that's why you're my favorite." "Aw what! Weak!" Dan whines. Gavin gives him his patented smug look and collapses back against his side with a grunt. Dan immediately buries his hand in Gavin's hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. Gavin hums happily, closing his eyes. "What're you lot doing up anyway? Both being up 'fore noon is a sign of the damn apocalypse." "Jet lag." "Couldn't sleep," Meg sighs and cuddles further against Dan. "Would totally be willing to try again though. Geoff gave us the week off anyway; we have no where to be." Gavin grumble of "I don't need the bloody week off" is largely ignored by both his partners. "Let's go for sushi," Dan suggests excitedly. "That place by the pier." "That sounds lush! Let's make it a beach day; it's been too long since we went for swimmies." "If you get your stitches wet, you're dealing with Caleb on your own," Meg warns. Gavin shrugs dismissively as she sighs fondly. "Fine, beach day it is." "Class," Gavin whispers. His bruises stick out in the pre-dawn glow, making him seem more fragile, breakable. Human. Less the coveted Golden Boy, and more the easy-going, intelligent prat that stole both their hearts without an ounce of effort. Dan smiles and runs his hand through Gavin's hair again. "Go on back to sleep, B. It's still--" he breaks off to yawn. "Hours away." "You too, jet lagged baby," Meg pulls on his ear, rolling her eyes at his betrayed look. "And you luv, honestly I'm worried for your health. Before noon?" Gavin mumbles, eyes closed. She scoffs in response, reaching out to tweak his nose. He scrunches up, but falls asleep soon after, Dan and Meg looking on fondly. Dan kisses the top of his head, and then hers before settling, dropping off soon after. Meg stays up a bit longer, petting Columbo who woke up to sleepily curl up on Dan's stomach and holding vigil over her boys. When she moved to Los Santos, she was sure of two things: love wasn't real and mornings were God's bane on the earth. Now, as her eyes droop and her body relaxes against Dan's warmth, her fingers still entwined with Gavin's, she can admit she was wrong. About the love thing. Mornings can still suck her dick.

[jbankai89]

Fic: Needs

My good friend and braintwin @kuriquinn suggested I try posting my actual fics on Tumblr, rather than just linking them, so I'm giving it a try. For those of you following my work on AO3 or AFF, these will be reposts until I'm caught up and everything is posted. :)

Title: Needs

Author: JBankai89

Status: Complete

Chapters: 1/1

Rating: NC-17

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Harry Potter/Severus Snape

Warnings: Attempted Sexual Assault, Dub-Con

Genre: Omegaverse

Summary: Harry had no idea that Alphas and Omegas existed until a trip to the Hospital Wing turned into much more than he expected.

Other Links: AO3, AFF, LJ

Notes: Do mind the warnings if you are of the olden faith. (my obnoxious way of saying if you're one of those Purity Wank people, your bitching will be ignored)

Sequel: Wants

Needs

“Harry? Are you all right?”

Harry groaned; his head was pillowed in his arms at the Gryffindor table, and even though Hermione had spoken in a tone just barely above a whisper, it raked through him as though she'd been screaming. He tilted his head to the side, just enough to give her a one-eyed glare.

“Do I look all right, Hermione?” he demanded, then groaned again, and burrowed his face further into his arms.

Everything was too bright, to loud, too smelly, and everything was making his head pound.

The pain refused to stay in one place either; he could feel periodic bolts of pain course down his spine, he could feel his muscles cramp and seize, before it found a new miserable home somewhere else in his body. The pain was so fleeting that he didn't have a chance to properly react to it before it was gone, and that in itself was infuriating.

“Maybe you should go to the Hospital Wing?” Hermione asked timidly, as though afraid that he was going to curse her.

Harry had half a mind to, if she didn't shut up.

“I can't,” Harry replied with another groan, “we've got that test in Potions, remember? Snape would skin me alive if I missed it.”

“But, Harry, you're ill,” Hermione protested, “even Snape isn't that unfair.” Harry snorted.

“Potions is second period,” Harry said in a mumble, “I can survive until then and I'll go see Pomfrey after.” He hoped the explanation would placate her, as all this talking was making his head feel worse, not better.

The shrill tonalities of the bell steamrolled through his head at that exact moment, cutting off any further protests that Hermione may have made, and he forced himself up and off to Charms with Ron and Hermione on either side of him.

Charms went about as well as Harry could have expected, and with the edges of his vision going a little red, he managed to at least stay standing through the lesson. Unfortunately, his spellwork was so shoddy that he was one of the few eighth years given extra homework to make up for it. It was a testament to how awful he must look that Hermione didn't even chastise him for not paying attention properly. He tried to ignore her worried glances, though it was proving more difficult than he had anticipated. Following the war Hermione had become strangely maternal, much like a miniature Molly Weasley.

He shuffled along with his friends down to the dungeons, and he felt a wave of nausea wash over him. The potion fumes had never affected him this strongly before—he was uncertain whether he would faint or puke. The smells were overwhelming, and he staggered back a few steps, only to be caught by Ron and Hermione, who seemed to sense that whatever was wrong with him was no doubt getting worse, instead of better. Harry rubbed at his eyes, but the red ring around his vision did not fade, and his friends silently steered him towards the classroom door. Harry breathed through his mouth, trying to ignore the way the sharp, pungent smells made pain lance through his skull much more frequently.

Draco Malfoy shoved past them, but instead of spouting off one of his usual insults he froze, standing stock still. For a moment, Harry wondered if he'd been hit with some sort of Freezing Charm, but slowly he spun around, and stared at Harry in a way that made him extremely uncomfortable. It was the same possessive look Harry had seen in his eyes when he'd laid eyes on something he'd wanted. The fact that he was looking at Harry like that made absolutely no sense. Malfoy's nostrils flared, and he smirked, as though he and Harry were sharing some sort of private joke. Harry stared back, face blank with confusion. Without a word, Malfoy stalked off towards his fellow Slytherins.  

“Okay, what was that about? Did I forget to put on deodorant or something?”

“You smell fine mate. It's just Malfoy being Malfoy. C'mon,” Ron steered Harry bodily towards their usual seats, and not a moment too soon as Snape swept into the classroom.

“As you are well aware, today I will be testing your aptitude—or lack thereof—on recalling N.E.W.T. Level Potions from memory. You will brew a Calming Draught with an Alyssum base. You have one hour. Begin.” There was a mad dash for the store cupboards, Harry lagging behind slightly as his head continued to throb. How on earth was he supposed to brew like this?

Harry found himself next to Malfoy, in line for the store cupboard. He was still trying to shake off the pounding in his head, and as a result nearly jumped out of his skin with shock and surprise when the blond fisted his robes. He yanked Harry closer, letting out a low, canine growl as he did so. Eyes wide with shock, he tried to lurch away, but his legs refused to work properly. Harry found himself hyperventilating, too surprised to even speak, but luckily his friends seemed to have noticed his distress.

“Oi, leave him alone!” Ron grabbed onto Harry's arm and yanked him away from the Slytherin, who seemed very reluctant to let Harry go. Malfoy narrowed his eyes at Ron as though he'd taken away his favourite sweet. Harry stumbled as Ron continued to drag him away, and Harry found his voice.

“What the hell was that about?” He whispered the words in a hurried hiss as Malfoy grabbed what he needed and stalked off sulkily. Some of the redness around the edges of his vision had begun to recede, though his head was still throbbing.

“I'll explain later,” Ron said in a hurried whisper, his eyes a little wide. He nudged Harry and nodded at the cupboard. Remembering that he was supposed to be brewing a potion, he hastily grabbed what he needed and Ron steered him back to his seat.

His potion was far too thin and a bright turquoise instead of the sea green it was supposed to be, but he was far too distracted by everything. His head had slowly stopped aching, but every small sound, smell, and touch was maddening in its intensity. He struggled to focus on the task at hand, but he was acutely aware of more than a few of his peers—Slytherins, mostly—staring at him in a way that was nothing near to what he was used to. It was an intense, sexual look. Harry's stomach twisted uncomfortably. What was going on? Had someone slipped muggle LSD into everyone's morning pumpkin juice?

Snape swept past his table, and froze just as Malfoy had. He turned slightly to stare Harry down, but offered up none of his usual acerbic barbs. His nostrils flared, and Harry could hear him taking a great sniff of something. He jerked back in his seat alarm, startled by the way a similar growl to Malfoy's escaped the Potions Master. A split second later, the man seemed to remember himself and offered Harry one last glare before he swept away in a swirl of billowing robes.

~*~

Harry all but staggered out of the classroom his limbs felt stiff, as though he'd been in bed for a week. Ron and Hermione helped him, but he felt slightly more clear-headed as the headache had finally faded in the last quarter of the lesson.

“Look, I'm fine,” Harry protested, “I'll go see Madam Pomfrey and get this sorted. You two'll be late for Transfiguration if you help me.” He felt unsettled by the looks the Slytherins were still giving him in passing, and it was made worse by the amused smirks they gave to Ron and Hermione. He did not need babysitters.

“Believe me, mate, the last thing you want is to be left alone right now.” Ron's tone was strangely serious, and as they helped Harry towards the stairs Malfoy made another appearance. He moved as if to approach them, but Ron whipped out his wand and pointed it at him. “Don't try it, Malfoy,” he growled, narrowing his eyes.

At first, Malfoy didn't move, clearly testing to see if Ron was bluffing, but finally he snorted in disgust and took off. Harry blinked in confusion, but didn't have a chance to question Ron as he steered him towards the staircase. Harry was too busy being manhandled by his friends to notice the Potions Master intently watching their ascent with hungry eyes.

~*~

By the time they had reached the Hospital Wing, Harry's legs had completely given out, and he was being dragged over the threshold. Harry groaned, the stark white of the walls and the bright springtime sunlight that bathed the room was too much and he shut his eyes tightly, his headache returning to him with renewed vigour. Distantly he could hear Madam Pomfrey's angry exclamation, and he felt himself being levitated off the ground. The pain in his head was too intense, and he could no longer focus on the sounds of his friends' voices or the matron enough to comprehend the words. He felt himself being lowered onto a bed, and the cool lip of a goblet being pressed to his mouth. He gulped down the potion, and within moments sunk into dreamless sleep.

When Harry next woke the Hospital Wing was dark, but Harry could still hear the occasional teenage voice bleed through the closed doors of the ward. Harry supposed it wasn't as late as he thought, and sat up with a small groan. He did feel better, the pain and sensory overload seemed to have passed, but his entire body felt heavy and weak.

“Potter?” Madam Pomfrey came into view at the front of his cubicle. “Ah, good, you're awake,” she bustled over, holding a vial in her hand that contained a thin, dark purple liquid. “Drink this, and then we can discuss your condition.”

She unstoppered the vial with a quick tap of her wand and handed it to him. Harry knocked it back and swallowed as fast as he could, though he still gagged on the rancid taste.

“Condition?” he rasped, accepting the glass of water she handed him and gulped it down, “I thought it was just a migraine or something.”

“I'm afraid not, Potter,” she grimaced, and Harry had the distinct impression that whatever was wrong with him wasn't good. He swallowed nervously while he waited for her to continue. “Usually symptoms of this condition present itself much earlier, often between the ages of fourteen and fifteen. I suppose with the stress of the last few years, yours had been suppressed.” Harry bit back a laugh; stress was putting it mildly. “Potter, have you heard of the terms Alpha and Omega before, from your lessons?” Harry shook his head, his mouth twitching into a small, confused frown. What was this about? The matron studied him for a moment, then elaborated.

“Within the wizarding world, there are four sexes, not two. Male, Female, Alpha, and Omega. The two latter are wizards born with lupine traits, and it is believed that it is a recessive gene from a period in history when many of our kind had bred with werewolves. The gene will not present itself until the child reaches puberty, but often the parents will often cast certain charms on their newborns to determine whether or not they fall into one of those two categories.” Harry blinked at her words, uncertain how to respond. Was she saying what he thought she was saying?

“There is no documentation in your file stating whether or not you had been tested for the Alpha/Omega gene,” she continued, “but given your symptoms, I performed the charm and your test came back positive for the Omega gene. This is not good news, Mr Potter.” Harry swallowed nervously; Madam Pomfrey was looking at him as though she had just informed him that he had cancer.

“This Omega thing...what does it mean?” Harry's voice shook slightly as he spoke, and based on the grave expression she still wore, he wasn't entirely certain that he wanted to know.

“Omegas are quite rare, Mr Potter. Of Alphas and Omegas born to a generation, only one Omega will be born for every ten Alphas, sometimes less. Omegas are physically weak, especially when in the presence of an Alpha. Unbonded, it can be very dangerous,” She paused, Harry staring at her with a blank look. “Omegas are submissive by nature, and when you have not committed yourself to an Alpha—romantically, sexually, and so on, you are considered to be unbonded. Your body will respond instinctively to an Alpha who takes an interest in you. There is no way around it, and if they want you, they will take you.” Madam Pomfrey spoke in a serious, matter-of-fact tone, but he felt himself go red at her words. Remembering how Malfoy had acted towards him, Harry supposed that that had to do with his condition. Harry shivered, grateful that Ron seemed to have understood the danger when he pulled Harry from the line of fire.

“Are you talking about...do you mean rape?” He swallowed thickly, shivering a little as he recalled how he was virtually incapable of independent movement by the time they had reached the Hospital Wing.

“It comes rather close,” she frowned, pausing as she considered her words carefully. “If an Alpha takes interest in you, they can use their innate abilities to render you submissive and compliant. You will find that your body does not react to your thoughts as readily, or you may suddenly feel compelled to act submissively towards the Alpha in question. This could mean kneeling at their feet, or losing your ability to stand and collapsing. The responses tend to be rather unpredictable, as are the ways in which the Alphas in this school will respond to you.” Harry shuddered at her explanation, his mind filling with images of kneeling at some faceless man's feet, like a household pet. The concept made him feel sick with shame.

“In addition to this,” she continued, “you will experience Heats.” Harry blinked, and to his blank look she elaborated, “every month starting the day preceding the full moon and ending the day following it, your body will crave sexual stimulation from an Alpha.” Harry felt himself flush at that—it was a little strange to imagine himself morphing into some sort of wanton whore. “It is quite painful, and I can have you sedated and warded in a private room for the duration if you so wish.”

Harry stared down at his lap, his fingers picking at a hairline scratch on the back of his hand given to him by Crookshanks. He tried to work through what she had told him, but it was too much, and he could already feel the first signs of panic setting in. “There's more, Potter,” Madam Pomfrey's voice snapped him out of his daze, and she looked even more grave than she had before.

“More?” His voice sounded rather hoarse in his ears.

“As I said, the wizarding world has four sexes, not two. Alphas and Omegas differ from Male and Female in several small ways physically. That being said, the most significant physical change that you need to concern yourself with is the fact that Omegas can conceive children.”

“Wait, what?” Harry shook his head, certain that he had misheard her. “But that's...that's impossible. I'm—I don't have the right equipment for that.” Harry reached down—all sense of decency forgotten in his panic—and checked to make sure nothing had fallen off in his sleep—nope, meat and two veg still in tact. Thank God.

“Not yet, but you will,” frowned again, though this time she looked rather sympathetic. “You won't lose your equipment, as you call it, but your rectum will develop a secondary use during your Heats as a receptacle for bearing young. You will also lose your testicles, as your body no longer has a need of them.” Harry groaned, lifting his knees and burying his face in his thighs. This was too much. He had always thought he'd get to have the normal life he'd always wanted once Voldemort had snuffed it—so much for that.

“What am I supposed to do?” His despairing voice was muffled slightly by his position, but he didn't move. “I don't want to...I mean, is there any way to get rid of this Omega thing?”

“I'm afraid not, Potter. Had we known of the gene prior to you presenting, we may have been able to block it with potions for a time until you felt ready, but now there is nothing to stop it. The potion I gave you will suppress your scent as an unbonded Omega, but that will not stop the Alphas within the school who already know of your status from seeking you out. I suggest for the time being, you keep your friends close, and do not wander off alone.”

~*~

Harry left the Hospital Wing the following morning with a wad of pamphlets in his hand, given to him should he have any questions. Harry shivered as he recalled the conversation from the night before. He just wanted to pretend the whole thing had never happened.

He made a quick stop at Gryffindor tower to change into some clean robes and grab his books, and arrived in the Great Hall with time to spare. He sat down heavily next to Ron, who jumped in surprise at his sudden reappearance. “Harry! We didn't think Pomfrey would let you out so soon.” Harry crammed a piece of bacon into his mouth to avoid responding, but Ron simply ploughed forward, oblivious to Harry's reluctance for small talk that morning. He leaned in and hissed, “how come you never told us you were an Omega?”

“I didn't know,” Harry's voice shook with annoyance, and he struggled to keep it at a whisper. “I didn't even know about all this Alpha and Omega stuff until last night when Pomfrey gave me an earful.” He grimaced and shifted his gaze to the High Table, where he could see the recently-cured-but-still-an-idiot Gilderoy Lockhart having some sort of exuberant conversation with Professor Sprout, who looked particularly sour at the seating arrangements that morning. Hermione's voice dragged Harry back to the conversation.

“Harry, I know you don't want to think on it, but you need to be very careful for the next while. I mean, unbonded practically every Alpha in the school will be able to sense it—”

“I know, Hermione,” Harry said wearily, absentmindedly raking a hand through his hair. “Pomfrey told me. I'm like a beacon or something for all these Alpha-whatevers.”

“Not to mention Malfoy,” Ron sniggered a little, while Harry hit his head against the tabletop with a groan.

Taking it upon themselves to protect Harry from every Alpha in the castle, Ron and Hermione had begun to escort him absolutely everywhere. Harry felt extremely weird being shepherded from class to class by his friends; he knew they meant well, and as such kept his complaints to a minimum. Even stranger still was the way his legs seemed to buckle when he got too close to certain students.

Draco Malfoy was practically stalking him, and Ron had taken the fall quite spectacularly when he cursed Draco in order for Harry and Hermione to make a hasty getaway. Ron's subsequent detentions with Filch sounded like nothing short of torture, but Ron had brushed off Harry's apologies with a casual shrug, as though he'd done no more than pick up a quill Harry had dropped.

At mealtimes, Harry was assaulted more than once by the distinctive scent of Alpha coming from the Head Table. While he knew that Snape was an Alpha—a realization that made him extremely nervous—he had a feeling that he couldn't be the only one, as the scent was far too strong. He had wondered on more than one occasion who else might be, but he wasn't exactly keen to get close enough to the teachers to find out for himself.

He had slowly been growing used to his heightened senses, in particular the way he could smell an Alpha nearby well before he saw them. Their scent was so distinctive from the other witches and wizards around him that he had quickly learnt to look for it in an effort to make himself scarce before the Alpha in question could zero-in on him. During his lessons that was next to impossible, and his only choice was to choose a seat as far from the Alpha scent as he could. Ron and Hermione dutifully sat on either side of him to deter any hopeful Alphas from sitting too close to him.

Two days following his stint in the Hospital Wing, his musings as to who else on Staff was an Alpha was answered most unpleasantly following the lunch hour.

Professor Lockhart swept into the room for their afternoon Defence lesson in robes of lilac, while he smiled broadly at the assembled pupils. A few of the girls near to him tittered, and Harry rolled his eyes. Why McGonagall thought it was a good idea to take the git back was beyond him. His memory had been repaired, but he was still the biggest moron Harry had ever met.

“Good afternoon, class! Today we will pick up where we left off last time in my latest book, Budding with Basilisks...”

Harry wasn't listening, but instead he was focusing on a scroll of parchment before him, doodling and feigning his note-taking. Or, he was until a very distinctive scent invaded his senses from the front of the class, making his head snap up in alarm.

Oh bloody hell. Lockhart was an Alpha.

Harry raked a hand through his hair nervously, looking sideways at Ron with wide eyes, but he was too busy sleeping to pay his alarm much mind. Hermione was engrossed in her note-taking, and did not even look up when Harry looked her way.

Harry determinedly looked anywhere but at the professor as the lesson progressed, but he could practically feel Lockhart's eyes boring into him. Harry felt that all-too familiar weakness in his limbs, and he was thoroughly grateful that he had been sitting down. He didn't much like the idea of falling to his knees before Lockhart in full view of his peers.  

At the end of the lesson, Harry packed up his things quickly and stood up on trembling limbs. He was almost at the door when he heard his voice being called. “Harry! A moment, if you please!” Harry felt his insides turn to ice and before he could protest, he saw Lockhart shunting Ron and Hermione out the door, shutting it in their alarmed faces. Swallowing thickly Harry leaned against a nearby desk, gripping the edges tightly to keep himself standing.  

The older man spun around in a swirl of colour and smiled down at Harry in what the older man clearly thought to be a friendly smile. Harry thought it looked rather like the man planned to devour him like a dessert; the thought was not comforting. His legs shook more violently, and he held onto the desk more tightly. The urge to fall to his knees before the man was almost overwhelming, though his heart still pounded out his fear unabated. “Harry,” Lockhart purred his name, and Harry felt slightly sick. “My, my, my. What am I going to do with you?”

“Sir, I—”

“Now, now, my little Omega, I didn't tell you to talk,” Harry found that he suddenly had lost his voice, his breath coming out in a faint rasp. His eyes bulged with fright as Lockhart came closer. His legs trembled worse than ever, and Harry pulled himself onto the top of the desk to keep himself from toppling over. Harry opened and closed his mouth several times, but still his voice refused to work properly. His absolute helplessness to defend himself or even cry out was overwhelming, and despite looking on the professor with an expression of nothing short of terror, he continued his approach as though he hadn't noticed it.

Lockhart stopped when he was directly in front of Harry, with a smile he certainly thought was seductive in some way. He reached forward and twisted his hands in the fabric of Harry's robes and dragged him to his feet. At once, Harry's knees buckled and he found himself caught by a pair of surprisingly strong arms. Harry stared up at the professor with wide eyes, his entire weakened form thrumming with panic. He struggled to find the strength to wrench himself away, but whatever Alpha magic Lockhart was employing now, it kept him as compliant as Pomfrey had warned him that he'd be in a situation like this. Oh God, Harry thought in a panic, what do I do, what do I do? This can't be happening!

“Harry,” Lockhart purred his name, and a shiver ran through him. “Do you know how long I've waited to find an Omega worthy of me? Your body knows it wants this,” he leaned in closer with a chuckle, his free hand pressing against Harry's chest and above his frantic heart, “not to worry, your mind will catch up.” He moved the hand to cradle the back of his neck, his other arm coiled around his waist. Harry lifted his arms to try and push the professor off, but it was as though he had completely lost all of his physical strength; his attempts were as effective as trying to push over a brick wall barehanded. “Now now,” Lockhart said softly, looking down at Harry's arms, “none of that.” At once, Harry's arms fell to his sides, limp and useless.

The professor's mouth was mere millimetres from his own when the classroom door burst open. In his shock, Lockhart dropped Harry and he crumpled to the ground in a heap. Harry winced as his knees fell hard against the stone, gasping sharply in pain. At the same moment, he felt his voice rush back into him like a sudden gust of wind. His relief was short-lived, as his gaze shifted to the door to see who his rescuer was to see Snape standing there, looking furious. Harry heard his throat click as he swallowed nervously.

A tense silence fell, Harry's gaze flitting between the two professors. His heart was hammering so hard in his chest he was certain that they could hear it, and it took a great effort to keep himself from hyperventilating. Lockhart and Snape stared each other down, teeth bared, and Harry was struck suddenly by how lupine it all seemed. Snape took a step forward and a low growl escaped him, while Lockhart stood his ground in a most uncharacteristic manner.

“I believe the Omega was rejecting your advances,” Snape murmured in a low, dangerous voice. The tone washed over Harry, making him shiver. The low rumble of the voice was not entirely unpleasant, which was a slightly alarming concept for Harry to wrap his head around. Snape's gaze remained fixed on Lockhart, his eyes narrowed with barely-controlled fury. “Or is your ego compressing your feeble brain so effectively that you cannot control your base magic enough to give the Omega back his self-control?”

“That's not your concern, Severus,” Lockhart replied, his tone far from his usual easy confidence, his eyes narrowed at the other man. Harry could not recall ever hearing him this angry, though Snape looked entirely unconcerned, as though he was observing a tiny dog trying to look more dangerous than it actually was. Harry felt some of the strength returning to his limbs and he stood slowly, but this turned out to be a poor decision as both of the Alphas whipped around to face him. He froze, pressing himself back into the desk, not daring to make any sudden movements.

Harry swallowed nervously, his eyes flitting back and forth between Snape and Lockhart, mirrored looks of possessive desire in their eyes as they looked down on Harry. Lockhart took a step towards him and he tried to lurch away, but the older man was too quick for him, and he felt himself suddenly dragged forward and pressed into the arrogant git's side. “I saw him first,” Harry tried to pull away, but it was as though Lockhart's arm had turned to a steel beam. No matter how hard he struggled, he couldn't move it. Snape watched the exchange silently, his left brow arching as a strange look of amusement crossed his face.

“Perhaps you did, Gilderoy,” Snape shifted his gaze to Harry, staring him down so intently he felt his face heat. He determinedly looked anywhere but at the two quarrelling Alphas—he hated how they made him feel like a piece of meat, and not a person. “But it seems as though the little Omega does not choose you.” Harry gritted his teeth and his gaze whirled around to Snape angrily. Little? Wasn't the man past his petty insults yet? He felt Lockhart's arm slacken, and at once Snape grabbed for him, the movement so sudden he could not quell the strangled yelp of surprise that escaped him. Without so much as a backward glance, he frogmarched Harry out of the classroom.

Harry was half-walked, half-dragged halfway across the castle before Snape felt compelled to stop. Pressing a hand to the centre of Harry's sternum, he slammed him back into the stone wall of the corridor. Harry grimaced as the force of the shove caused his head to jerk back and hit the stone sharply. “Potter, exactly how you managed to vanquish the Dark Lord when you don't have enough common sense to fill an eggcup is beyond me. You know that you are an unbonded Omega, and Lockhart is not subtle about his heritage. And yet you saw fit to allow yourself to be alone with him. Do you have some burning desire to bond yourself to the likes of him? Five more minutes and I can assure you, that is exactly what would have happened.” Snape rattled off his little speech in an angry growl just barely above a whisper.

“I didn't do it on purpose,” Harry growled back, moving to push away the hand that pinned him, but he found that it rested there as firmly as Lockhart's arm had earlier. “He stopped me at the end of the lesson, and closed the door on Ron and Hermione before I could say two words. And then my body went all weird.”

“That is Alpha Compulsion. Any Alpha can compel you to weakness and compliance, usually when they intend to bind an Omega to themselves. Stronger Alphas know how to control it so that an unbonded Omega will not turn into a pile of jelly when they are within ten feet of them.” Snape snapped off his words impatiently, as though he was explaining a painfully simple concept to a small child.

“Stronger, like you?” Harry sneered, making sure that Snape knew that he did not intend it as a compliment. Snape rolled his eyes, and in his moment of distraction Harry tried to wedge out from under the pressure of his hand again, but he was still stuck. At his minute movements, Snape refocused a glare on him. “Let me go,” Harry said coldly.

“No.”

“Why the hell not?” Harry was getting tired of this Alpha dominance crap, and it had been less than a week since Madam Pomfrey had broken the news to him.  

“Watch your language, Potter, I am still your professor,” Snape came closer, and Harry instinctively pressed back into the stone, trying to keep his mind from dissolving into a panic—and the faintest trace of arousal. “You will respect my authority,” the low, velvet tones of the command washed over Harry, and an involuntary moan escaped his barely parted lips. He felt himself go red immediately following it, and he turned his head away. Harry had no idea if his reaction was genuine or some stupid Alpha/Omega thing, and he wasn't certain he wanted to find out.

His reluctance to look at the older man was indulged for about three seconds before he felt Snape's strong hand grip his jaw and force his gaze back to him. Harry glared at him, his arms hanging limply at his sides, while he did his best to mask his fear. The stare Snape was giving him was deeply unsettling, and before he could completely think through the action, he tried to jerk out of the hold.

The small motion seemed to shatter Snape's self control, and with a growl he claimed Harry's mouth with his own.

Harry wanted to tense, wanted to cry out his surprise, or protest. But Snape's—Severus's mouth was so very hot on his own, the demanding and expert tongue sought out his virgin one, and within seconds he could feel an erection straining painfully against his trousers. Harry arched into the touch and kiss, reaching up to cling to the older man as he trembled with desire.

As quickly as the Alpha had descended upon him, he was released. Harry slid down the wall, feeling boneless in an entirely different way than earlier. He looked up at Severus through half-lidded eyes, and the deep thrum of his laughter washed over him like a warm summer breeze. Severus crouched down, ignoring Harry's blatant erection as he cupped Harry's jaw and kissed him again, allowing it to linger for barely a moment before he pulled back.

“Not yet, my little Omega,” Severus purred, “you will know when it is time.” The Alpha's hot breath danced across his mouth and cheek, and Harry found that this time he did not mind the pet name as much. His eyelids fluttered, but Severus paid his blatant arousal no mind as he stood and swept down the passageway without a backward glance.

Harry stood slowly on trembling limbs, and after ensuring that no other Alphas were nearby he hastened to the nearest loo.

~*~

Harry stepped back into the passageway, sated, but not as satisfied as he had hoped. He cursed inwardly when he nearly collided with Draco Malfoy, who seemed to have been waiting for him right outside the door. Harry felt the painfully familiar weakness in his limbs, and he moved quickly away from him. Draco was too quick, and he reached out with lightning-fast movements and grabbed tightly onto Harry's forearm, dragging him close. Harry staggered into him, yanking weakly on his arm caught in the Slytherin's vice grip.

“Damn it, Draco, let me go,” Harry hissed, tugging weakly at his trapped arm while silently cursing himself for not waiting to get back to Gryffindor Tower to finish the job Severus had started.

“I can smell the sex on you, Omega,” he hissed, ignoring Harry's demand, “wouldn't it feel so much better if you had an Alpha take care of that for you?”

“An Alpha would feel better,” Harry whispered, still trying to escape Draco's grip, “but not you.”

His words seemed to startle the blond, and he leaned in close, his nostrils flaring. He seemed to smell Severus's scent still clinging to him, and with a curse he threw Harry's arm away from him with such force that Harry stumbled back several paces. Draco took off in the same direction that Severus had gone, but Harry was not worried about his welfare—The Potions Master had proved on more than one occasion that he knew how to take care of himself. Harry did not waste any time, and instead hurried back to Gryffindor Tower.

“Harry!” Hermione practically threw herself at him the second he slipped through the portrait hole. Harry staggered back a few paces before Hermione seemed to sense how off-balance he still was and let him go. “We were so worried! We thought Lockhart might try something, there was just something how he was looking at you during the lesson and we found Professor Snape and told him—” Harry had tuned out most of her her rushed explanation, until it registered what he was hearing. Eyes wide, he dragged her to a quiet corner of the common room with Ron following quietly behind.

“Are you telling me that it was your brilliant idea to send in another Alpha on top of Lockhart?” He hissed, struggling to ignore how decidedly not unpleasant his encounter with the Alpha had been.

“What are you talking about?” Hermione's brow knitted together, and Harry cocked a brow at her. Ron seemed to get it about three seconds before her, and even his freckles seemed to pale. “Oh. Oh dear.”

“I swear, mate, we had no idea Snape was a—are you okay, though? I mean with Snape and you being—being, well, you know...” His ghostly pallor flushed red, and Harry bit back the urge to tell them exactly what had happened. While their reactions would have been highly entertaining, he reigned in the temptation.

“I'm fine. Or, I was until Malfoy cornered me. He smelled Snape on me and now I'm pretty sure he's come to the wrong conclusions—” or the right ones, Harry thought, “—and is plotting revenge against his Head of House as we speak.” Harry smirked, rather pleased that he managed to keep a straight face through most of his explanation. Ron looked highly amused, while Hermione looked apprehensive.

“I just wonder if you'll be fine three days from now,” she replied nervously. She frowned, and both Harry and Ron turned to her with confused stares.

“What's in three days?” Harry blinked once, and Hermione huffed with annoyance and shot him a dirty look.

“The night before the full moon.”

Suddenly, Severus's words made much more sense.

~*~

Ron and Hermione stuck to Harry like glue, so intensely protective of their suddenly more-than-helpless friend that they would not even allow him a trip to the loo on his own. Harry was grateful, but by the second day it had begun to grate on him, especially when all he wanted was a minute alone with Severus. One look from the Alpha and all Harry wanted to do was drop to his knees and service his cock. He struggled to keep his eyes to himself and not on the Potions Master during lessons and mealtimes. His intense focus was not missed by Hermione, but she never commented on it.

Draco was furious and more antagonistic than usual, clearly jealous of the older man succeeding where he had failed so spectacularly. It had escalated to the point that Harry half-expected to see a report in the Prophet about hell freezing over, as the eighth year potions class witnessed Severus Snape dock points from his own house for the first time in history.

Amidst the chaos of his friends and his would-be suitors, it seemed as though the other Alphas had backed off. Whether this was because they could still smell Severus on him or some other reason, Harry wasn't certain. It was a relief for that he didn't need to worry as intensely about being accosted by another student when he found himself suddenly without his would-be bodyguards.

As for Lockhart, it seemed as though Severus had memorized Harry's timetable—or at least when he was scheduled for Defence Against the Dark Arts—and would mysteriously appear every time Lockhart tried to keep him past the end of the lesson. Severus hadn't touched him again following that first heated kiss, but Harry was rubbish at hiding his desire for the older Alpha, giving him a significant look every time he rescued him from Lockhart's clutches. In these instances Hermione gave him a knowing look, while Ron mimed vomiting behind Severus's back.

Harry woke early on the day preceding the full moon, his stomach knotted with anxiety. His heat, and whatever it would entail, had filled him with nothing short of an excited panic. He was still uncertain whether or not he should take Severus up on his unspoken offer, or if he should just ask Pomfrey to sedate him for the duration of it. He knew which one sounded more appealing, but he wasn't sure he had the nerve to actually do it. Harry dragged himself out of bed and headed to the showers.

By the time he made it to breakfast he was on time and not overly early. He felt distinctly awkward as he wove through the tables, as more than one head spun in his direction and watched his progression through the Great Hall and to the Gryffindor table. Harry could feel a flush creeping up his neck, but he determinedly did not look around as he walked. It felt as though every Alpha in the entire school was staring at him.  

Harry sat down heavily next to Hermione and grabbed some toast. She poured him some black coffee and pushed it towards him. “Why does it feel like I'm walking under a spotlight?” Harry muttered to her, while she smiled at him weakly.

“It's because your first Heat is about to start,” she whispered, trying to be as discreet as she could. “I read about it in Alphas and Omegas: A Case Study in Genetic Divergence. Basically, they can sense that not only that you are unbonded, but you are about to have your first Heat. Your body produces extra pheromones—you may as well be a walking billboard, Harry. Don't wander off today. I don't want you getting pounced on by anyone.” She paused, and a slow smirk replaced the nervous expression, “unless there's someone you want to be pounced on by...” she giggled as Harry elbowed her.

Harry spent the day in a state of tense worry, uncertain how he'd know when this Heat thing was supposed to start. Hermione's reassurances that he'd 'just know' was not helpful in the least. His end-of-day Potions lesson was much better than usual, as Severus took more than one opportunity to sweep over and come up with thinly veiled excuses to touch him. Harry particularly enjoyed Malfoy's silent but infuriated reactions each time this happened.

Evening came and went, and Harry went to bed supposing that perhaps that his body wasn't as caught up with the rest of the changes as he thought. He'd heard of girls missing periods—perhaps this was similar. He settled into his four-poster with a contented sigh, reliving the small moments during his potions lesson from earlier that afternoon, a silly grin plastered across his face.

~*~

Harry woke sometime after midnight soaked with sweat. His body was on fire, his groin ached and he was strangely sticky in a way that almost felt as though he'd soiled himself. Harry sat up with a groan, the sudden movement causing a wave of dizziness to run through him. He was painfully hard, and muscle cramps lanced through his abdomen and to his groin in a constant cycle of pain and arousal. Harry could barely stifle the pained whimpers as he struggled to think clearly through his fog his mind had become.

“Harry?” Ron's groggy voice shot through the silence like an arrow, but Harry felt as though he couldn't zero in on it; he was too focused on the multitude of bodily reactions happening to him all at once. He tried to respond, but it came out as a keening moan, and he heard Ron hiss a curse under his breath. “It's started, hasn't it?” Harry nodded mutely, dragging in ragged breaths as he tried to get a handle on the pain and arousal coursing through him, his fingers tangling in his bedsheets and gripping them tightly as he arched his back, his breathing shallow. Ron was up and racing out of the dormitory in a flash. Harry watched him go, but another wave of pain shot to his crotch and he hissed again, trembling as he struggled to keep quiet.

Ron's hissing voice was joined by another, and in an instant he and Hermione were there. They dragged Harry from the soaked bedsheets, and Harry stood on trembling limbs while they helped him into a dressing gown. “Come on Harry,” Hermione whispered, draping one of his arms about her shoulders, while Ron mirrored her on his other side. “Don't worry, we'll get you sorted,” the invisibility cloak was draped over them by Ron, and they carefully ushered him toward the staircase.

Walking was agony. Harry was still shaking, cold and hot all at once, the pain in his most intimate areas  making it difficult to walk properly. The wetness in his arse was extremely uncomfortable, and it caused his pyjama bottoms to cling to him as he moved. “It's okay Harry,” Hermione would whisper every few minutes in a soft, reassuring tone, “we'll get you what you need.” Harry was only vaguely aware that they had deviated from the general direction of the Hospital Wing and they were descending to the dungeons. Harry nodded weakly to her words, and stumbled over his own feet as he struggled to stay standing.

They paused before a door Harry did not recognize, and Ron drew the cloak off them while Hermione reached out to knock. The Alpha scent was intoxicating, and a low moan escaped him. A faint breeze brushed over him as the door flew open, and Severus stood there with a simple dressing gown pulled over his nightshirt. “What the...” his words died as he inhaled sharply. Hermione and Ron released Harry and he staggered forward, his breath coming out in short gasps before he was pulled into a tight embrace by the Alpha.

“Please,” Harry whispered hoarsely into the Severus's chest, “I need—I need—”

“Shh,” Severus whispered, cutting off his words, “I know what you need.” He turned briefly his two friends, who were looking on fearfully. “Granger, Weasley,” he paused, and in the silence that followed the only sound that could be heard was Harry's ragged breathing. “Twenty-five points to Gryffindor...each.” He dragged Harry into his chambers and slammed the door, not even pausing to watch the effect his words had had on the pair.

Harry clung to the Alpha, his skin still hot, the contact of the older man like a cooling salve. He struggled to stay upright, and another jolt of pain shot through him, ripping another keening moan from his lungs. Harry's knees began to buckle, but Severus swept him up in his arms before he could fall. Harry tried to focus, but the intoxicating scent of the Alpha coupled with his own bodily reactions was overwhelming. He hooked his arms around Severus's neck and buried his face in his shoulder, inhaling deeply as the man crossed his chambers to the bedroom with the Omega securely in his arms.

Harry was dropped onto the bedspread and the Alpha's mouth was on him at once. He reached out and fisted the older man's hair, opening his mouth to receive his delicious, demanding tongue. Harry moaned into his mouth, arching his spine and grinding his painful erection into Severus's thigh. He groaned into Harry's mouth, and reached down to press his palm into the hot flesh of his groin. Harry's breath hitched, and another moan escaped him.

Severus moved his hand away, ignoring Harry's whimpers of protest as he hastily stripped the Omega of his dressing gown and pyjama top, several buttons popping off the shirt in his haste. The cool air of the dungeon chambers hit Harry's sweat-soaked skin, shivering as gooseflesh broke out across his arms and shoulders at once. Severus chuckled at the reaction and broke the kiss, leaning down to drag his tongue from the top of Harry's sternum, across his clavicle, only stopping when he reached the dip where his shoulder met his throat.

Long, angular fingers ran up and down Harry's arms, warming them as the pain slowly began to fade, while his arousal intensified. The wetness in his arse became more pronounced, and he squirmed uncomfortably. Severus's hot breath ghosted across his skin as he chuckled, his left hand sliding slowly down his chest and abdomen, pausing just above the tented garment. Harry groaned, intending to mumble a demand for the man to get on with it, but the words tumbled from his lips as gibberish, Severus's mouth still licking, sucking and biting at the flesh of his throat.

Harry was uncertain what Severus did, but he moved his mouth to another spot along his throat, and pleasure lanced through him like a bolt of lightning. “Oh!” Harry gasped, leaning into the contact while the Alpha chuckled at the enthused response.

“That is your Bonding Gland,” he purred, reaching up to caress it with his fingertips, eliciting another moan from the Omega beneath him, “it is delightfully sensitive, especially during your Heats.” Harry leaned into the touch, quivering with the pleasure that coursed through him from the contact. His cock twitched against the fabric of his pyjamas, the front of them positively soaked with his precome. Harry whimpered and jerked his hips minutely, the motion causing Severus to chuckle again.

The Alpha paused just long enough to shrug out of his dressing down and peel off the nightshirt, and another moan escaped past Harry's lips at the sight before him. Alabaster skin stretched over a bony torso, marred only by the jagged scars left by Nagini. A fine dusting of dark hairs trailed down his abdomen and collecting in a dark thatch just above the man's groin, where the delicious sight of his thick cock jutted forward, a pearly drop of precome dangling from the tip. “Like what you see, pet?” Harry caught the right side of his lower lip between his teeth and nodded, the corners of his mouth twitching into a grin. The nickname from anyone else might feel demeaning, but Harry loved the way it rolled off Severus's tongue and made him feel possessed; claimed.

Without waiting to be asked, Harry slid off the bed and fell gracelessly to his knees before the older man. Severus's fingers ran though Harry's thick mop of hair encouragingly as he sat up slightly, leant forward, and his lips stretched over his cock. Severus groaned and his hips jerked forward, the hand in Harry's hair moving to the back of his neck, urging him silently forward. Harry gripped the base of the cock, doing his best to swallow as much of it as he could. Severus did not force in more than Harry could reasonably take, and he could all but feel the Alpha restraining his urge to thrust down Harry's virgin throat.

Slowly Harry began to bob his head, stroking his hand up and down Severus's length in time with the movements of his mouth. His technique was given very little critique, save for the garbled murmur of, “cover your teeth,” early on. After several minutes, Severus moved a hand to Harry's shoulder, stilling his movements. The Alpha slid his cock from Harry's mouth with a wet pop and closed his own hand over his throbbing erection. He gave it several quick pulls and came with a groan, thick ropes of come splattering across Harry's face and throat. The contact of the semen with his flesh caused Harry to moan again, his mouth twitching into an open-mouthed grin, his eyes shut tight.

“Accio,” Severus murmured, Harry's eyes flicking open at the sound of the incantation. He reached out and caught the flannel that soared across the room, tapping it once to dampen it with cool water. He knelt before Harry and gently mopped the spunk from his face, the small touches enough to elicit further fevered moans from him. Harry leaned into the contact, his breath ragged, his own painful arousal not diminished in the least.

Harry had expected that it would take Severus some time before he was ready to go again, but the Alpha urged him to his feet and reclaimed his mouth hungrily, while he pulled Harry down onto the bed. He could already feel the half-hard prick pressing into his thigh, the contact making Harry tremble with barely-controlled desire. He shifted closer, locking his arms around Severus's neck while he coiled his arms around Harry's waist, pulling him close. Their bodies moulded together, the feeling of Severus's hot flesh clinging to his own made Harry tremble.

“I want...” he gasped between kisses, “I—I need...” Harry's words were cut off by a large hand pressing against his groin, and Harry threw his head back with a cry.

“Hush, my little Omega,” Severus purred, nipping lightly at Harry's lower lip, “I know what you need.” His thumbs hooked in the elastic of the garment at his hips, pulling down sharply and freeing Harry's painful erection in one swift movement.

Harry had little time to enjoy the feel of the fresh air encasing his cock before Severus's hands rested on his hips, slowly coaxing him over and onto his hands and knees. Every minute touch caused Harry's cock to twitch and another moan to escape him, his ready and eager reactions making the man at his back chuckle with amusement. A kiss was pressed to the centre of Harry's spine, he hissing with shock as the feeling of some sort of spell rushed through his arse. He had only barely come to the realization that it was a preparation spell before the head of the Alpha's thick cock breached his entrance.

Harry's arms shook with the effort of staying in position, his spine curving and his neck arching, crying out his approval at the delicious sensation of the thick cock entering him. Harry was only vaguely aware of the sear of pain that shot through him, too busy thrusting backward, all but impaling himself on Severus's cock. Behind him, the Alpha grunted in time with Harry's fevered moans, an arm wrapped around his waist, anchoring him in place as he was mercilessly fucked.

One final guttural moan of pleasure, and Severus dug his fingers into Harry's flesh, hard enough to bruise, though he was too far gone for the pain to register. Harry bowed his head forward, his breath hitching as Severus pushed forward, his knot passing the ring of muscle none too gently, while the Omega's own orgasm hit at the same moment, hoarse cries echoing throughout the room as he released onto Severus's bedspread.

They fell bodily onto the coverlet, Severus holding tightly to Harry as he rolled them onto their sides, spooning the boy against himself. Harry shifted a little, but the Alpha tightened his hold on him. “Don't move,” he murmured, his voice somewhere between a purr and growl, “we are still joined. It will be some time before we can separate.”

“How long?” Harry murmured, while he snuggled back against him, not entirely disliking the feel of the enormous member still filling him so completely.

“It could be an hour—maybe more,” Harry moaned in response to the answer, his cock twitching a little when Severus leaned in to nip at his Bonding Gland. The Alpha chuckled softly, his hold on Harry tightening slightly. Severus reached down and trailed his fingers along Harry's length, the Omega shuddering and struggling with the urge to thrust his hips forward. He didn't want to hurt the Alpha, but his control over his own body was almost beyond him at this point.

Severus continued to stroke him with feather-light touches, enough for his painful hardness to return, but not enough to make him come. Harry whimpered with frustration, his hips twitching reflexively, the Alpha's free arm holding tightly to him to keep him from ripping them apart prematurely. Slowly, he closed a hand over Harry's hardness and increased the speed of his strokes, and within moments he had leached another orgasm from him.

Panting shallowly, he eased back into Severus's embrace, sated—for the moment. They lay in comfortable silence, Harry's hands resting over the arm that held him, while something he remembered reading from the pamphlets coming back to him.

“Are you...I mean, will you...” Harry felt his face heat, “c-claim me?” Harry had read the passages on Alpha/Omega bonding more thoroughly than he had any other. At the time they had scared him senseless, as the Omega had little control over the Alpha, should he decide to lay claim on him by way of a bite to his bonding gland. In the afterglow of better sex than his fantasies had ever managed to conjure, the idea of being bound to Severus filled him with a thrill of longing.

“You are still lost in the Heat,” Severus murmured after several long moments of silence, though following his meek request his hold on the Omega had tightened slightly. “If when you return to your normal state you still wish it, I will be more than happy to oblige you.” Harry trembled a little when he felt teeth nip lightly against the gland, his eyes fluttering shut as he sighed contently.

A soft squelching noise filled the silence, the knot releasing them and leaving Harry feeling strangely empty. At once Harry turned and kissed the Alpha, clinging tightly to him as they once more descended into the throes of passion.

~*~

That following Monday, Harry returned to the hustle and bustle of the castle, a crescent scar adorning his throat.

For once, he didn't mind people staring at his scar.

-Fin

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[brooktrout96]

Hidden Truth

“Just because I look human it doesn’t mean I am.”

My name is Y/N, and I am an android, my model is RA900 serial  number, 715 445 191-09. I walked into the precinct looking for Hank, but I had a feeling that nothing would be the same today for some reason. I walked down to the holding cell and check on the Deviant that Hank brought in last night as I cut the camera feed.

How are you doing?” I asked the android with a smile as he didn’t look at me at all.

My name is Shaolin.” The Deviant muttered not looking up at me. I looked at the Deviant with a smile as unlocked the door and step away from the door

Go Shaolin. You are free to go to Jericho, just make sure to stay hidden from the officers.” He nodded as he took off to freedom.” I then walked over to my desk and saw an android sitting in front of Hank’s desk. I smiled as I walked over to the android.

Hello.” He got up from the chair as he looked me over. “My name is Sergeant Y/N Dechart and you are?” I asked

My name is Connor and I am the android sent by CyberLife.” He said as I gulped a little bit. I am worried, CyberLife has created a police android to find androids like me, an android who has emotions, who just want to be free and not a slave

~***~

Connor POV

I walked into the police station and went up to the android at the reception.

Can I help you?” The android looked up from her work to me standing there.

I'm here to see Lieutenant Anderson and Sergeant Dechart.” I said

Do you have authorization?”

Yes.” I said as I transmitted the information to the other android

Lieutenant Anderson hasn't arrived yet, but you can wait at his desk.” I nodded to the android and I went into the precinct and I explored. I first went to check on the android I found last night and saw the cell was empty as the officer from last night, Officer Miller  joined me

What the hell happened. How did it get out?” Officer Miller asked as we both took in the cell. Nothing seemed out of place and no finger prints at all to show how the android got out of its cell as I frustrated wander out of the cell as I checked the CT cameras and saw that someone had hacked into it and then I finally made it back to Hank’s desk as I turned to an officer at his desk

Excuse me? Do you know what time Lieutenant Anderson usually arrives?” the officer shook his head as he spoke

Depends on where he was the night before... If we're lucky, we'll see him before noon... “ I nodded and said a thanks to the officers then a woman came up to me as I set at Hank’s desk and she had a smile

Hello.” I got up from the chair as I looked her over. “My name is Sergeant Y/N Dechart and you are?” she asked

------------------------------------------------

Dechart, Y/N

03/17/2002// Police Sergeant

Criminal record: None

------------------------------------------------

My name is Connor and I am the android sent by CyberLife.” I  said as I noticed that she gulped a little bit, and her heart rate speed up. I wonder what would cause her heart rate to spike. I think that she could be hiding something. Finally, Hank arrived at work.

It's good to see you again, Lieutenant.” I said as Hank groaned as he saw the android

Uh, Jesus….” He  let out a groan as Fowler walked out of his office and yelled at Hank and Y/N

Hank, Y/N! In my office!” I followed the two into Fowler’s office and listen into the conversation

I've gotten new cases involving androids on my desk every day. We've always had isolated incidents, old ladies losing their android maid and that kind of crap... But now, we're getting reports of assaults and even homicides, like that guy last night... This isn't just CyberLife's problem anymore. It's now a criminal investigation and we've gotta deal with it before the shit hits the fan. I want you to investigate these cases and see if there's any link.”

Why me? Why do I gotta be the one to deal with this shit? I am the least qualified cop in the country, Y/N is more qualified than me to handle this case! I know jack shit about androids, Jeffrey! I can barely change the settings on my own phone....” Hank said as he began to yell at Fowler

Everybody's overloaded. I think you and Y/N are perfectly qualified for this type of investigation” Fowler began to raise his voice as Hank continue to argued with him as Y/N stayed out of the argument

Bullshit! The truth is nobody wants to investigate these fuckin' androids and you left me holdin' the bag!”

CyberLife sent over this android to help with the investigation. It's a state-of-the-art prototype. It'll act as your guys partner.” He gestured to me as Hank continued to run his mouth

No fuckin' way! I don't need a partner, and certainly not this plastic prick.”

Hank, you are seriously starting to piss me off! You are a police lieutenant; you are supposed to do what I say and shut your goddamn mouth!”

You know what my goddamn mouth has to say to you, huh?”

Hank!” Y/N yelled as this caught both Hank and Fowler off guard as Y/N took off and returned to her desk as Fowler shook his head as he spoke to Hank

Ok, ok... I'll pretend like I didn't hear that, so I don't have to add any more pages to your disciplinary folder 'cause it already looks like a fuckin' novel! This conversation is over!”

Jeffrey, Jesus Christ! Why are you doin' this to me? You know how much I hate these fuckin' things. Why you doin' this to me?” Hank let out a sigh as Fowler shook his head.

Listen, I've had just about enough of your bitching. Either you do your job, or you hand in your badge. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do.” I nodded as I turned to walk away and said to the captain

Have a nice day, Captain.” I returned to Hank’s and Y/N’s desk’s as I looked at the two

I get the impression my presence causes you some inconvenience, Lieutenant. I'd like you to know I'm very sorry about that. In any case, I'd like you to know I'm very happy to be working with you. I'm sure we'll make a great team. Is there a desk anywhere I could use?”

No one's using the one next to Y/N’s.” I nodded as I set down next to Y/N

~***~

Y/N POV

After Connor made some small talk with us. We had our next case, the case of an AX400 killing its owner and running off with its owner’s daughter. We went looking for the android in Ravendale, I decide to take a look in an abandon squat while Connor and Hank check to see if they stayed at the nearby hotel.

Anyone here?” I yelled as I saw the WR600 and I had my hands up as an nonthreatening gesture

Ralph is the only one here.” I smiled at the android.

I’m not here to harm you, Ralph. I am looking for a AX400 and a little girl, I have information to give them, a safe place if you will.” The AX400 and a little girl came out from their hiding place. I smiled at them. “Take my hand.” I said to the AX400 as I grabbed her hand and my hand became white plastic, I was interrupted by Connor yelling as he came into the house

Anybody home? There's blue blood on the fence. I know another android was here.” The AX400 and the little girl quickly returned to their hiding spot

Hey Connor.” I said as Connor began to interrogate poor Ralph

I'm looking for an AX400. Have you seen it?”

Ralph's seen nobody...” Connor shook his head as he continue to question Ralph

Are there any other androids here?”

Other androids? No... Ralph is alone...”

Don't be afraid. I'm not gonna hurt you.” Connor said calmly. “There's blue blood on the fence. I know another android was here.”

Ralph scratched himself coming through... That's Ralph's blood...” Connor went over to where the android and the little girl were hiding as Ralph tackled Connor as he yelled to the android and the little girl

RUN! QUICK! KARA!” The two took off running as Connor shoved Ralph off and went after Kara and the little girl and I follow .

Connor, what's going on?” Hank asked as Connor ran after Kara and the little as he yelled to Hank

It's here! Call it in!”

Shit, that's them! STOP! POLICE!”

Quick, call it in!”

Holy fuck, that's them! HEY, STOP! POLICE!”

Hey, wait a minute!” I yelled as Connor continue to follow them  as I lagged behind take as many shortcuts to catch up to Kara before Connor did

Which way did it go?” Connor asked two cops  nearby

That way - they're headed for the train station!”

They're over there!” I reach the fence as Kara was climbing. I  grabbed her arm and the skin of my hand disappeared and I gave her the information to find Jericho as I heard Connor yell

Oh fuck, that's insane…. Hey! Where you goin'?” Hank said as Connor stared at me as Kara and the little girl made it to the other side  of the fence

I can't let them get away.” Connor tried to shove me out of the way as a way to climb the fence as Hank pulled him off the fence.

They won't! They'll never make it to the other side.”

I can't take that chance.” Connor made another attempt to climb the fence as Hank pulled him down

Hey, you will get yourself killed! Do NOT go after 'em, Connor, that's an order!” Connor listen to Hank as he stared at me as I looked at my hand and saw that my synthetic skin wasn’t covering my hand

“Just because I look human it doesn’t mean I am.” I said as I turned and walked off before Connor and Hank could ask any more questions or chase after me.

[freefallersunite]

The Hostel

By Chanelle Coates

 It must have smelled stale and disgusting the whole time I was there but after the first day I didn’t notice the scent anymore.

It’s funny how fast you can adjust. I had to stay at the hostel for a week but it felt like I had been there for ages. To get through it I had to keep reminding myself that once it was over, it would just be a blink amongst all my other memories.

I would wake up every morning and try to keep my eyes shut for what felt like an hour. The longer I slept in the less food I had to eat during the day. I had a bag of oats and unsweetened rice milk to last me the week. I kept trying to think “at least you have clean water and a bed” but I was lonely and underfed. It was a strange time.

When I finally opened my eyes, the first thing I saw were the wooden planks above me that kept the person overhead from sailing down on their mattress and crushing me. I wondered how much that would hurt. The girl was Asian and looked as featherlite as a human could be. I’d survive it.

Backpackers had written on the planks. “Jessi and Bianca are the sexiest bitches.” Did Jessi or Bianca sleep on my bed? Did they have sex on it? Out of all the people who had ever slept on there, the chances were high that someone had at least once. The hostel didn’t change the duvets; we were told to leave them there when we checked out. At least they changed the sheets.

The graffiti that stood out the most was a black Sharpie scrawl “keep travelling Mate”. But I didn’t feel like it. I was near the end of my five month stay in Australia and I didn’t want to visit one more shitty museum or place. All I could see was that plane that would take me back to Sydney so that I could go to Auckland, to L.A. and then to Montreal. I missed my family and my cats. When I thought about how I had only sent my grandparents a postcard in the whole time I was there, I wanted to throw up. I was scared one of them would die before I got home. I wondered which one it might be if that happened. I pictured getting the news about each one and tried to decide which one I would me most upset about. I couldn’t decide but I still felt like a bad person.

I would get out of bed and try to drink some water from the bottle next to my bed. It always turned gross overnight but I would always test it incase. I felt too lazy to fill it up with fresh water. I never felt like putting on a bra but I didn’t want a single person to look my way if I could help it so I threw on my vest overtop. I would consume some oats. I had different strategies up my sleeve for eating oats. If I was particularly hungry I would eat very slowly. I read my book while eating and the reading interruptions made the eating process feel longer. If I was sick of the taste of plain oats, I would blast Twenty One Pilots songs in my headphones. I listened to their song “Heathens” quite a bit. My goal was to inflict sensory overload so that my taste buds weren’t as sharp. It worked.

The vest hid my chest but people still looked at me. Most of the others in the hostel were “friendly backpackers” and they all got along quite well it seemed. They tried to start up small talk with me. I probably would have been offended if they didn’t smile and say hello and ask me what I was up to but nonetheless I was annoyed when they did because I couldn’t think of a clever or even basic reply. I would mutter something lame and head back to my room.

One evening, this English guy came up to me in the kitchen and asked me to join him for free beer over on Queen Street. The prospect of socializing horrified me. I couldn’t look him in the eye so I focused my gaze on washing my spoon with an old sponge and this big bottle of green watered down detergent.

“Um. I’m probably just gonna go to bed early I guess.” I said.

“Oh are you still jet-lagged?” he asked.

I put my spoon back in the utensil holder without drying it off. I thought of doing it but at felt it would look stupid to do it now.

“No…I’ve been here for 5 months” was my mumble to answer his jet-lag question. It was so awkward.

“Right well you think about it and get back to me.”

I said “ok” and went back upstairs to look at myself in the bathroom mirror. As if I was going to get back to him. I knew I wasn’t going to go with him and I knew I wasn’t going to talk to him again to confirm that. The mirror wasn’t clean. It looked like girls had gotten close to it and popped pimples. I looked at myself and thought about how I kind of wanted plastic surgery on my nose but I couldn’t afford fruit and vegetables. I pulled up my shirt and examined my stomach. If I flexed it looked alright head-on but form the side the illusion was lost. There was so much fat. I grabbed what little boos I had and squeezed them. All year I told myself not to care. Boobs don’t define you. But every now and then I kept getting haunted. They were pathetic. My first period came a long time ago. When I was fourteen. That was five years ago. That meant they were done growing. They’d only get bigger if I got pregnant. I sure as hell didn’t want to have a baby.

I had literally no money but I had legs. I told myself to make the most of it and “explore Melbourne”. It’s hard to build up the motivation to go out and do stuff when you’re alone but I took out my camera and finally tramped outside, enjoying the luxury of not having to press crosswalk buttons. There were so many people that they would light up automatically. I crossed two streets and it started pouring rain.

As I ran back with my camera under my vest, I passed a homeless man. My eyes constricted with shame but I didn’t give him any change. I didn’t have any. People had it way worse than me.

At least my hostel had a shower. I could go under it everyday and not think about how sticky the orange-tiled floors were. I could just let scalding water scalp me. I could scrub my flesh until I was bored even though I never felt clean enough. It felt like I needed to use Biore nosestrips on my entire body. Apparently Australia had water shortages. I didn’t get it because the ocean was everywhere. I showered every day for half an hour anyways. I wanted to care but couldn’t. I wanted to stop thinking about everything so much but past experience told me that’s not how it worked. I would be home when I was home.

I wanted to see my brother’s red jacket instead of these orange walls and brown door frames. I wanted to listen to music with my friend and ride in the car with my sister but all I could do was use the wifi in the lounge and walk down the hallway that was lined with an ancient floral carpet.

I was in this awesome city but I just stayed in the hostel and read. My mind was already done with the trip. I knew I was lucky but I couldn’t help feeling alone and out of place.