#but what he told her is likely a cover story for his real intentions...also he /might/ have influenced Sansa on the Tourney

[fromtheseventhhell]

George establishing Sansa as an unreliable narrator and then making her the only POV observing one of the biggest schemers in the books is actually so big-brained.

[1d1195]

Ding - Round 6

Read Ding here | ~6.3k words

Warnings: some smut 18+ only, oral, fingering, cockwarming if you squint; angst, car accident, trauma dumping, sucky parental figure. Please read with caution. You might also see one of my cliffhangers.

From me: I feel like the beginning is messy to read--almost like it's out of nowhere? But it's pretty intentional, tbh. I hope it doesn't detract from the story. Hope you like it 💕

Summary: Cupcake and Harry are busy. Harry has his big fight. Cupcake was right about throwing her life out of balance by adding in a boyfriend. They miss each other. They don't know how to deal with that either. At least not while they're apart.

It was not Harry’s fault. Even though he thought it was.

But to be fair, it wasn’t her fault either. Even if she felt it was.

Harry grew into adulthood knowing he was stubborn. Everyone in his life told him so. It was obvious. He didn’t get to be an undefeated champion without grit. His entire gym was named as a near synonym of the word. But she continued to surprise him, and it was clear that he had very much met his match—she was competing for his crown of stubbornness. If Harry wasn’t so mad about his current state, he might even acknowledge that she was winning.

At first everything was new and completely fine. He was enamored with her. Finally she was all his. He took her on a real date—several real, authentic dates. He danced around with her in the bakery kitchen. Brought her food for movie nights in her apartment. (He also licked her when the movie lost his attention, and she looked too good to be sitting there without his head between her legs.) He even brought her bouquets of flowers simply because it was Monday.

She stayed at his place, wrapped close to him. It was as if they had done it for years. When he woke up early for a run, she joined him, assuring him to go ahead and circle back for her since he ran way better and faster than she did. But he enjoyed the way she massaged his muscles in the shower most. (The way she wrapped her hand around his dick most of all.) She made him breakfast before they left for work and Harry thought if the bakery wasn’t to her liking she could open a breakfast place as a second choice.

She chatted with Sarah while he worked out and trained. Without any kind of asking, she helped clean equipment when he needed to focus more on training. She organized his desk in his office because it was a disaster and it stressed her out. Whenever she cleaned, she hummed and didn’t notice. It made Harry fall deeper in love with her. Every moment he was with her was magical.

Until she was exhausted.

He missed her. For the first time in his life, he had felt completely in love with someone. The way he wanted to be in love. He finally had that. They were inseparable. Nights spent cocooned under Harry’s covers. His finger tracing her features in the dark. “So pretty,” he murmured.

“You can’t even see me,” she whispered.

“S’how I know you’re so pretty. Can feel it.”

So not having that for two weeks was like trying to swim through cement.

She had what could only be called a complete meltdown. Frosting and cupcakes everywhere. She was overwhelmed—said yes to too many functions in a row and spread herself too thin. She was frustrated with Harry and his time training and just missed him.

But she didn’t say it.

Because Harry was frustrated too. He tried to help her, but she didn’t let him in. There was the whole not knowing her family—even though she had effectively wormed her way into Mum and Gemma’s heart. Though he wasn’t surprised in the slightest; honestly, he thought his niece liked her more than Harry and she had only met her twice.

So, when she exploded, for lack of a better word, it was magnificent. It was nothing he had ever seen before. The exhaustion in her eyes, the worry on her face, the tears that spilled down her cheeks. Harry was sick with worry and frustration just to hear her cry but was nearly impressed. The cupcakes overturned on the floor were nothing in comparison to the way she cried.

“Cupcake, you are overreact—”

“Do not finish that sentence,” she hissed at him. That was entirely on him. Gem had taught him better than to tell a woman she was overreacting.

“Lemme take something off your plate, kitten,” he tried instead. He was ignoring her frustrated tears even though he wanted to brush them away. “Tell me what’s going on,” he figured it had something to do with her dad because she kept checking her phone and she hadn’t mentioned going to see him in over a week. But her car was overdue for an oil change, and she didn’t want to drive it that far but hadn’t a moment to deal with it. She also complained about something regarding her eyebrows, but Harry didn’t fully understand it because quite honestly, he had never thought about her eyebrows.

But if it meant caring for herself, he wished he pushed further.

Their schedules hadn’t lined up in two weeks. No more than an hour or two alone. She saw him plenty while she chatted with Sarah at the gym while he trained or worked. He and Maeve had started a competition of who could sprinkle the most cupcakes in fifteen minutes (Harry was willing to admit defeat once in his life—he would never beat Maeve) even though she didn’t like that they were having fun when she was stressed.

They hadn’t practiced her self-defense moves in nearly a month.

So, it felt like her fault.

But what she hadn’t anticipated was Harry’s sour attitude reflecting right back at her. Harry didn’t take her frustration lying down. He snapped back at her which felt so heinous to do but he was grumpy.

But he was tired of arguing with her. Tired of feeling frustrated, begging her to let him in when it was obvious she didn’t want to. So, for the first time in his life, he stopped fighting.

It pained him to no end. He could see in her eyes that she was exhausted. It hurt him so badly. Each time he said, “Whatever, Cupcake,” he felt like the worst boyfriend in the world for not taking her frustration away. But she wouldn’t let him in. She wouldn’t let him take away her frustration. It was like she wanted to argue with him. It was entirely unfair, but she was mad about his indifference. It didn’t make any sense for her to be mad when she had just as much blame to take for his sour mood.

“Why don’t you just go home?” She suggested. Bitterness coated every word.

“Yeah?” Harry looked up at her from his phone, his eyes narrowed. She could see his muscles tense like they were in the ring, and she was aiming for his head. “Jus’ leave?” He repeated.

“Obviously you don’t want to be here,” she muttered.

He slid back from the table, the chair scraping against the floor with a screech that made her teeth hurt. “No, cupcake,” he shook his head and made his way for the door. She hated itwhen he said the sweet name like that. She knew it wasn’t her nickname when he said it. It wasn’t filled with the love he liked. It was sarcastic. Mean. It hurt her more than an actual punch would have, she was sure. “You don’t want me here,” his voice was low. She closed her eyes, trying to keep as calm as possible. It was hard because she was anything but calm. But she said nothing. “You don’t want me in your life,” he snapped finally letting all the emotion out that had been building over the last week. “You keep things from me. You build up walls that I can’t break down. Every time I get to the top y’add another layer of bricks.”

She stayed silent.

“Go on, cupcake. Say m’wrong,” he challenged. “Say y’let me in.”

But both knew she couldn’t say it.

It was eerily quiet in the kitchen. The pinch of Harry’s brow made her sad. She wanted to smooth it out with a kiss. “Tell me to stay,” he whispered quietly.

But she couldn’t say that either.

“Yeah,” he sighed and turned. “S’what I thought.”

*

Maeve wondered if her best friend was going to have a heart attack a lot during her time at A Pinch of Sprinkles. The opening in town nearly sent her to the ER. She was running on fumes at the time. Christmas always made her anxious. Anytime they were chosen for a wedding also had Maeve worrying about her medical history. But in comparison, those were nothing. If Maeve had known what not talking to Harry would do to her, she would have told her that Christmas was a tropical vacation.

Harry stopped coming to see her.

“Did...” she swallowed, nervous to infuriate her best friend further but out of care for her, she had to know. “Is... Harry still...”

She glared at the cupcakes she was frosting, squeezing the icing bag a little too tightly. “I don’t know,” she grumbled. She hadn’t gotten a text from him nor seen him in a week after she told him to leave.

Maeve’s heart cracked. “Babe,” Maeve murmured softly.  “He... he adores you... what happened?”

She shook her head unwilling to go over it again. The nights were filled with tear-soaked pillowcases, and she was exhausted from stress and crying. “I just can’t be in a relationship. It’s too much.”

Of course.

Maeve was sick of her best friend’s loneliness. “That is bullshit,” Maeve rolled her eyes. “Did you push him away?”

“Maeve, shut the fuck—”

“Oh, good luck pushing me away, babe. No,” she shook her head and grabbed the bag of frosting from her hands and threw it at the sink to gain her attention.

“I was wor—”

Maeve ignored her words and continued on with her own. “I might not be a boxer, but I can take a punch or two all the same. You pushed him away. Now you’re sulking. You’ve been punishing yourself for so long because you think you don’t deserve to be happy. Harry did nothing but love you and try to help you and you wouldn’t let him—”

“I am going to fire you,” she muttered bitterly. Harry never said he loved her anyway. How could he love her after all that? How could he love her if he didn’t even know the truth?

Maeve continued anyway, immune to her threat because she knew that wasn’t true at all. “You deserve to be happy, and Harry made you happy. That scares you,” she finished.

Angry tears filled her eyes and she ground her teeth together.

“You’re not going to say anything?”

Maeve was her best friend and knew more about her and her family than anyone. ���I don’t get happy things.”

“But you do. You have me, number one,” she snorted, fortunately. The tension eased just the slightest bit. “You have this bakery. And more importantly, you have a guy that is so crazy about you, he has been calling me every night to make sure you’re home safe and sound.” Her heart fluttered. She didn’t know that.

“Every time I love someone, they go away,” she whispered.

Maeve felt nothing but sympathy for her sweet friend. “You have to give Harry a chance. You have to tell him why you’re doing this. I have a good feeling about him,” Maeve reminded her. For the first time in a week, she felt her body untense.

“He calls you?” She asked.

“Every night.”

She bit the inside of her lip. “That’s nice,” she whispered.

Maeve nodded. “Really nice,” she agreed. “Plus, he’s like super hot. Did you even sleep with him yet?” She blushed at her words and reached for a new frosting bag out of the fridge. “You bitch! You didn’t tell me?!” Maeve screeched. She smacked her arm repeatedly. “Tell me everything! When did you do it? Where did you do it? Harry must have a massive dick, right? I feel like he’s—”

“Maeve,” she laughed. The first time in a week. It felt good to laugh. “I...”

“No, you have to spill. Something.”

Her cheeks were flaming. “I think I’m addicted to it,” she whispered.

“Thank. God.”

*

Harry refused to go back to the bakery for the rest of the week uninvited. His workout sessions were horrific. Louis yelled at him for missing his marks and he felt everything about his footwork was sloppy. The way she ignored him made him feel terrible. But naturally, he didn’t help either. He hadn’t texted her in over a week.

But it didn’t stop Harry from waking up to a call at eleven thirty at night.

“What?” He grumbled. He didn’t want to fight. He was tired of arguing with her and was tired of being frustrated. She would have to do the work if she was going to try and fix this when he needed sleep.

The sound of her shaky breath snapped his eyes open. “Can you come get me?” She croaked.

That did him in within seconds. The vulnerability in her voice. “Cupcake, s’matter?” He was awake instantly. It wasn’t sarcastic. It was her name. The one he used that made her feel adored. It was sweet and made her feel better almost as if he was already at the bakery. He quickly slid into trainers that he didn’t even untie; the back of the heel was smushed down and uncomfortable against his foot, but it didn’t matter. Her sniffling made him insane with worry. It was like the last few weeks hadn’t happened. “Kitten, talk to me,” he ordered. His heart racing and his fear taking over. He wasn’t sure he locked his door, and he was lucky he even remembered to grab his car keys before he descended the stairs to the parking lot.

“I’m alright,” she promised, tears filling most of her voice.

“Y’don’t sound alright.”

“I’m fine,” she repeated.

“Cupcake, I swear t’God,” he threw his car into drive before it was fully turned on.

“I just miss you. I’m sad and scared. Okay? I’m physically fine, but I’m a mess. I want you here,” her voice wobbled, and Harry felt like he was breaking. “Please,” she sniffled.

Harry felt crushing relief and he watched the needle on Clay’s speedometer lower from a felony charge to a healthy speeding ticket.  “M’five minutes away, kitten. Stay put.”

“Okay,” her voice was quiet, sad but Harry didn’t mind.

“You’re okay?” He repeated. She nodded. He couldn’t see that though. “Cupcake?”

“I’m okay,” she promised, it was punctuated by a sniffle.

His heart felt so broken feeling the anguish in her voice. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered to the phone. “I wasn’t nice,” he mumbled.

“It’s hard,” she whispered. The remainder of his drive was silent. Just her sniffles and the hum of his tires on the road to accompany the small miles between them. Harry sprinted to her bakery door. She was there pacing the front and unlocked it as he approached. Harry dropped his phone right inside the entryway, the bell signaling his arrival, finally.

Within one second of crossing the threshold, she was in his arms. The door only clicked shut once he was around her. His face buried in her hair, his arms tightening around her like he was trying to keep her afloat in the middle of the ocean. “M’here,” he hummed. “M’here, Cupcake,” he promised. She squeezed her eyes shut, her heart finally slowing after so much anxiety had plagued her over the last couple of weeks.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he assured her. “S’okay.”

“It’s so hard,” she repeated, herself from the phone call. Harry wished they were home. Even though it was late and private Harry wanted the comfort of her bed or his sofa to let her fall apart. The bakery was warm, but he wanted pillows for her head and blankets for her body to comfort her while she whispered secrets to him.

“I know, kitten. I know s’hard. But I... I adore you, Cupcake. Don’t y’know that? What do y’think all this is between us? I want t’meet your dad. He’s obviously a huge part of your life... and keeping secrets from me? S’not fair.”

“I know it’s not fair.”

“You know everything ‘bout me. S’like I don’t get t’know anything ‘bout you. Do y’think I’m suddenly not going to like you? I assure you that’s never going t’happen.”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know what I did.”

“What could you possibly have done? You’re made of sugar, Cupcake. You have to let me in. I told you everything. You know my family. You know my friends. You know why I bought Driven and why I have been fighting since I was ten years old. You have kept me out of everything. I don’t even know why you opened A Pinch of Sprinkles. I know you have a dad. You never talk about your mom. I don’t know about your childhood best friend or your favorite pet. There are these walls you keep up and I don’t know why, and I don’t know how to break them down.”

“You don’t eat cupcakes when you’re sad,” her jaw shakes as she pulls from him. The space between them feels worse than the last few weeks without her combined. It’s cold and lonely. More so than not speaking to her. More so than not sleeping beside her. His heart hurt instantly. But not as much as it hurt to watch her lower lip move almost independently of the rest of her face.

“Cupcake, what does that have t’do—”

But before he could finish his thought Harry could see it did have to do with what he just asked about. The way her eyes were shining with tears. It felt like someone clipped his vocal cords. All words escaped him, and he just stared at her as she continued. “You eat them at baby showers, weddings, and at birthday parties,” she listed. Harry stayed quiet. “You don’t eat them when your mom leaves when you’re six years old because it’s too much to be a mom,” her voice was so broken as she spoke. Harry felt her pain in the air. Like needles stabbing every inch of his exposed skin. It seemed impossible that someone wouldn’t want her. To willingly choose to leave her. Her mum no less. She was looking at her hands like they were going to give her the answer to a test she forgot to study for. “You don’t eat them at funerals or when you break your arm,” she continued. Harry wondered who had died and which arm she had broken and how. “You eat them when you get a good grade on your math test or on an anniversary.” Harry’s heart was breaking. He always wondered about the things she kept hidden in her personal life and she laid it out right there for him. In the one place that she probably loved more than anywhere else on earth. “You don’t eat them when you’re sick or sad. They’re for when you’re happy. You can’t be sad while eating sprinkles.”

It clicked effortlessly. Obviously. “A pinch of sprinkles,” he murmured softly. He crossed the space that separated them. Immediately, he cupped her cheeks in his hands, they felt cool compared to the warmth that emanated from her skin. Hot, frustrated tears started to spill over. He swiped at them with his thumbs below her eyes in tandem. He caught as many as he could but there was an overwhelming number of teardrops. It was impossible for him to keep them all from falling in rivers down her face.

She nodded. Her tears continued to spill over, rolling down her cheeks and sliding down his thumbs as he tried to stop them. “A pinch of sprinkles,” she repeated softly. She inhaled sharply. Turning against his hands holding her in place. A new wave of anguish crossed her face that Harry didn’t know could exist on someone’s face—especially not her perfect features. All the art museums he went to in university for his art history requirement made sense. The distortion of features on someone so beautiful was right before him. He understood. “You don’t eat cupcakes when your dad is in a car accident and becomes paralyzed from the neck down because you were too tired to drive even though you were the one that wanted to go to the drive-in and the only thing you can do is bring him to an entirely new town with a place to help him the way he deserves because it’s never going to be enough to thank him or repay him or—” the words were cut off by sobs that she could no longer control. Her heart was breaking right in front of him.

Harry knew how to fight. He knew how to stand with poise and grace that no one would expect a boxer to have. He knew how to throw punches that could knock a grown man out in one hit. The correct form to kick was ingrained in his mind from when he was ten years old.

Harry didn’t know how to begin to fight her sadness.

“Cupcake,” he whispered. She covered her mouth and the noise that came out of her body was so sad, so broken. Harry wondered how she could still be standing. Harry always thought he was pretty tough. That stubborn nature of his thought he was one of the toughest people in a room.

But he wasn’t. Not even close.

The pretty, sweet girl who was constantly covered in sugar and frosting—she was the strongest person he knew.

He couldn’t begin to imagine what she went through—how she still coped with it. It was a miracle she got in a car ever again. She was braver than he ever was or could be. “And he doesn’t hate me,” she whispered through her sobs. “My mom left him because of me. He is in a wheelchair and unable to live a normal life because of me.”

“Kitten,” he warned worried she would work herself up too much beyond his ability to help her. Harry was an idiot for making her feel this. He couldn’t leave well enough alone. If he only knew...

“Why doesn’t he just hate me?” She whimpered and Harry finally pulled her into his embrace. Her tears immediately soaked his shirt. She got snot all over him and Harry just kept her close to him he let her cry for longer than he ever wanted her to, but it felt good to hold her again. Regardless of the pain.

“How could anyone hate you, Cupcake?" he asked after a minute.

“I hate me,” she whispered. The question was rhetorical, but she responded anyway.

He kissed the top of her head. “If I had a kid like you... S’not anything I wouldn’t do for them. Your dad doesn’t regret that.”

“Of course he does,” she sniffled. “I couldn’t even take care of him.”

“It wasn’t your job, Cupcake.”

“But it was my faul—”

“Take me t’meet him,” he interrupted.

She blinked, confused. “What?”

“Take me to meet him. Y’go every week, yeah? Take me,” he asked. She felt so vulnerable. Her heart felt heavy.

“Meet him?” She whispered. Harry didn’t even comment that she repeated him again.

He nodded. “He saved your life for me, Cupcake. M’sure of it. S’least I could do t’meet him.”

Her heart felt something dangerously close to hope enveloping it. It was too good to be true. Her dream job, a cute apartment, a best friend, and the perfect guy. “You don’t hate me?”

He scoffed and buried his face in her neck. He missed her smell—vanilla and sugar (although he wasn’t sure that was truly her natural scent but merely from spending so much time in the kitchen). He missed her voice and the warmth he felt just holding her in his arms. “Christ, Kitten. Course not.”

“But I was so... awful. And I... I ruined his life. I'm cursed or something. I'll... I'll ruin your life too.”

"Sweetheart," he cooed. "Y'don't really believe that, do you?"

"I'm not a good luck charm, Harry."

"You are, Cupcake. You are the luckiest thing s'ever happened to me."

She looked at him miserably. "I've done nothing but made your life confusing and hell."

He pulled back a little so he could get a clearer look at her face. He smiled. The first genuine smile he felt in a week. “I can take a punch every now and again,” he promised. “Think Louis would say I could be knocked down a peg or two every once in a while,” he winked.

It wasn’t fixed. But she looked slightly less broken. She felt a little more whole. Harry’s smile did wonders for her.

*

The next day, Harry stood in the hall outside of the dining room. Other residents were in various activities, but her dad sat in his chair, slumped slightly, and he smiled at her entrance.

“Dad,” she said softly sitting across from him.

“Busy week you had it seems,” he smiled.

She blushed. “I know. I’m so sorry. I should have called. It was one thing after another—it’s no excuse I should have been here, and I was—”

“Honey,” he shook his head slightly, one of the few movements he retained from the crash. “You’re living a life. It’s okay.”

Her heart broke to see him in his chair. Unable to live the same kind of life.

“I... brought... something.”

“Something or someone?”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t see a cupcake box, so this must trouble,” he joked, smiling brightly.

“Harry is here. He wanted to meet you,” she explained.

“He wanted to? What about you?” He asked. She looked at him nervously. Her eyes said everything she didn’t say out loud. Her dad continued to smile. “Well, it’s about time, honey.”

She rolled her eyes and waved him over. Harry hurried, stepping right beside his wheelchair. Without hesitating, he grabbed her dad’s limp hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you sir,” he said shaking it firmly with both hands. When the handshake was through, Harry ever so gently placed his hand back on the arm rest of his chair.

Her dad smirked and winked at the sweet girl. “I’d offer you my seat, Harry, but I’m afraid I’m stuck in it.”

“Jesus Christ,” she covered her hand over her eyes.

Harry chuckled, taking the seat on the side of the table between them. “No problem, sir,” he assured him, taking the joke in stride. Adoration for them both squeezed around her heart. “Cupcake, do y’mind getting us some water?” She blinked in surprise. Normally, Harry wouldn’t let her lift a finger.

“Oh... um... sure,” she said and hurried off to find a nurse to help.

“Cupcake?” Her dad repeated.

“Yes, sir. She’s quite sweet like one,” he smiled gently. Her dad stared Harry down for a moment. Not maliciously. Just watching. Waiting. If they were in the ring, they would have been eyeing one another waiting for someone to make a move.

Her dad made the first one. “She said you wanted to meet me.”

Harry nodded. “I adore your daughter. With everything in me. M’going t’protect her every moment of every day. I wanted you t’hear that from me. I wanted you t’know that.”

“She can be a little feisty sometimes,” he warned, but the smile didn’t leave his face.

“M’aware,” he didn’t want to tell him about their stalemate over the last few weeks. That didn’t matter anymore and it wouldn't paint either of them in a good light.

“She said you have a big match coming up.”

He nodded. “Yes, sir. Biggest one of m’career.”

“Think you’ll win?” He asked.

Harry was confident. But he didn’t like to let his confidence overinflate his chances or make himself sound presumptuous. Anything could happen. But he was going to try his hardest and best. That would be good enough for him. “I believe so. I’ve worked hard for this. I want it more than most anything,” he promised.

“Most?” Just like his daughter, he caught the key word.

“Most,” he repeated. There was a significant pause as Harry considered his next thoughts. The words he didn’t want to explain but what he wanted her dad to know anyway. “Did she tell you about Jack?” Harry asked quietly.

The name didn’t ring a bell. He shook his head. “No. She doesn’t always tell me everything.”

Harry smiled sadly. “At least she’s consistent,” he murmured. “My manager Louis and I teach self-defense classes... she joined one several months ago,” he let another pause tell her dad the words he didn’t want to say. The story he probably shouldn’t be telling him in the first place. “M’confident she could protect herself. But m’hoping she won’t ever have to. M’going t’keep her safe,” he assured him. “I promise.”

He could only imagine the wave of emotions that took over his brain. Harry obviously wasn’t a father, but he didn’t need to be one to know he would murder someone for his daughter. Paralysis or not. “And you?” He asked quietly. Digesting the bit of information Harry alluded to.

“Me?” Harry repeated.

“Are you going to hurt her?”

“Never,” he assured him. “I’d... I’d take a bullet for her,” he promised.

“Speaking from experience, that might hurt her more than just letting her take the bullet,” he chuckled and winked. Harry snorted but nodded.

“Understood.”

She returned with three glasses of water and an extra long straw for her father. “You guys sharing war stories about me?”

“I was jus’ ‘bout t’tell him how you’re trying t’fatten me up with raspberry lemon filling,” Harry stood and held her chair out for her to sit.

“You are more than capable of saying no to cupcakes, Harry.”

“I beg to differ, honey. It’s a sin to say no to them,” her dad smiled. “A sin to say no to you,” he winked again.

*

Their reunion in Harry’s home was carnal to say the least. Harry missed being inside her. He wanted to fall asleep with her wrapped around his dick. Harry had spent many years of his teens taking care of his own sexual needs and yet somehow the weeks apart from her were worse than all those years combined.

Perhaps it was the noises she made. Begging Harry for a release. Her body craved his. It felt like a part of her had been missing for the duration of their silly stalemate. It may have only been a few weeks, but it was a few weeks without orgasms made possible by Harry’s mouth, fingers, and dick.

“I wanna stay inside you the rest of m’life,” he moaned into her ear in the middle of the night. They would both be tired in the morning. Louis would probably hate her (even though Harry assured her that was impossible) but it was worth it.

*

They started going over her self-defense moves again in between dinner and TV shows. Harry was encouraging. Making sure she followed the right move and not her instinct. Correcting her form and making sure she knew he would always be there for her. She told him more secrets that made Harry feel so whole.

She watched him train. Harry walked her to her car after falling asleep on the table in the bakery kitchen. They hadn’t spent a night apart since Harry met her dad. They fell asleep watching a movie or show nearly every night. Harry would simply lift her in his arms and carry her to the bedroom. She would coax him out of his slumber and snuggle up to him as they made it to a more comfortable position in bed.

That was the case one week prior to Harry’s big fight.

He had fallen asleep in her lap (after he had lazily brought her to orgasm with nothing more than stroking his finger messily around her clit. Simply because he could and thought her sleep shorts looked lonely without his hand inside them). Now he had an arm wrapped around her waist, face nuzzled against her T-shirt. “I love you, Cupcake,” he mumbled sleepily. She ignored it. Thought that maybe he was asleep because surely someone so big and strong—someone so scary yet boyish—couldn’t love her after all she put him through. No matter how good her mouth was on his dick. “Hear me, kitten?” He asked rolling to look up at her.

She smiled, blushing. “I heard you, thought you were sleeping.”

“Well, I love you in m’sleep, too,” he turned again, rubbing his nose against her shirt. She giggled, rubbing her fingers through his hair and massaging scalp. She was so enamored and so surprised she felt speechless. “So you’re supposed t’say it back,” he turned and looked up at her. “Unless...y’don’t feel the same way...or I said it too soon or something and it’s—”

“Oh no way,” she assured him. “I love you very much,” she laughed and brought her face down to his and kissed him.

*

The morning of his fight, they woke up early. Harry headed into the shower, and she followed right behind him. With a sleepy smile he enjoyed the feel of her mouth on him as he always did, gripping her hair in his hands while he thought about how a $100,000 would change his life and allow him to spoil her.

But after a healthy breakfast (and another blowjob from beneath the table while he ate because she simply thought he deserved a relaxed morning) there was no use denying it.

Harry was grumpy.

By the time they got to Driven, he snapped at her a few times (more than a few times) and she took it like a champ. In fact, she was planning on ignoring it entirely. It wasn’t his fault. Stress was natural on a day like today. His warmup wasn’t supposed to be heavy the day of a massive fight like this even though he tested Louis’ patience to no end.

“Again,” he snarled at Louis. Louis looked at her for support.

“Baby, you need—”

“I said, again. I know what m’doing,” he growled ignoring her.

Louis let him have one more round of practice. But it was Louis’ comments on his attitude that he found her around lunch time in his office setting up a light lunch from one of his favorite restaurants nearby. Tail between his legs. “M’sorry I snapped, kitten. S’jus’ the nerves.”

She smiled. “I know, baby. It’s okay.”

“S’not okay, though.”

She shook her head grinning at him. “I’ll yet at you later when you eat the frosting off my cupcakes.”

He nodded. “M’gonna hold you to that,” he promised.

“I know it’s silly to say. But don’t be nervous. You’re going to win, I can feel it,” she assured him and draped herself in his lap while he ate his carrot sticks.

“Course. M’good luck charm will be there,” he brushed his finger on her cheek.

“You know, I hate when you get hit. It's been my least favorite part of this whole experience.”

He shrugged. “So, I won’t get hit,” he smiled knowingly.

She laughed. “I don’t think I’m much of a good luck charm when you were already undefeated when I met you,” she reminded him.

He felt everything soften in him. The tenseness, the anger, and the frustration all disappeared. “Oh, kitten,” he shook his head. “You have been m’good luck charm for so much more than boxing matches.”

*

Louis was ready to explode with anger. Part of her wondered if he had ever followed through on his threats of getting in the ring to throw punches at Harry. She thought it might be cathartic for him. Before she can blink, the introductions are over. The sound of the bell chimes through the arena room.

Ding

Round one was over and she was holding her breath so she seriously considered the idea that she had blacked out and missed it. But Niall had murmured to her that he didn’t get hit once and she felt so proud, so excited. The kind of money Harry was going to win would do incredible things for his life. Maybe in addition to holding her breath, she had squeezed her eyes shut and turned to Niall.

His opponent was big, strong. He wasn't facing Harry because he wasn't good. It terrified to think the kind of damage an opponent like him could do to him.

“Looks like he forgot extra towels,” Niall murmured to her bringing her back to reality. She could see the irritation in Louis’ eyes and Harry holding his hands up with the gloves. How did y’expect me t’grab them? She could imagine him grumbling back only further irritating Harry. There was enough for the time being but she knew they would go through a stack of them in no time at all.

“I’ll get them,” she offered standing waving at him in some silent sign language neither discussed but Louis knew what it meant. He looked the slightest bit more relaxed by her standing. Part of her thought for the first time in their relationship he didn’t hate her. Even though Harry assured her repeatedly that he didn't. (He was utterly kind to her throughout the self-defense classes and when Harry reminded her of such, she alluded to the fact that she paid for that kindness.)

“Cupcake, you’re the best,” Niall squeezed the back of her arm as he stayed put. “Want me to come with you?” He asked.

“No, I got it,” she smiled. “I’m going to use the bathroom and hit the concession stand too. So, if I’m not back at the end of the next round I didn’t fall in the laundry basket,” she promised. Niall chuckled and waved her off.

After going to the bathroom and making her way back to the locker room, flashing her badge around her neck, she found the extra towels laid out. The noise was deafening—even from inside the locker room. She grabbed an armful's worth and made her way toward the entrance to the arena.

When she turned around, the last person she ever thought she’d see was waiting just inside the door. The volume behind him hadn’t changed. But she swore in that moment, the crowd, the bell, the thudding of her heart, everything got louder.

She knew he was trying to intimidate her just by standing there. There wasn’t a single person around. Everyone was in that arena. Her legs felt like lead, but she walked forward anyway. The towels in her arms provided extra space between them as she started to walk right past him. “Excuse me,” she muttered.

He’s just trying to intimidate me. She repeated to herself.

“Round two is about to begin!” She heard announced from behind the door followed by a delighted cheer.

It was nothing.

Jack was just trying to scare her. She hadn't done anything wrong.

All she needed to do was walk by him confidently. Then she would watch Harry win life-changing money. She was home free. Leaning into the door, the metal bar squeaking as it released the hold on the frame to let her through to the main room.

But at the last second, the towels fell from her arm in a heap as he grabbed her arm and yanked her away from the door. “I don’t think so.”

Round two was starting.

Ding.

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I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

[essektheylyss]

This was entirely tangential to this post from @utilitycaster which is why this is its own post, but the tags made me think about what feels most compelling about Liliana to me, and it's really because there's such an interesting approach to redemption in terms of the sunk cost fallacy to be had there.

There have been plenty of comparisons between Liliana and Essek, but I don't think they're really situations that can be compared. Essek had done one horrible thing (that was of relevence to the story; it is implied that he's taken other actions that he feels were wrong, but we don't know what those entail nor do the Nein care enough to ask, so per narrative convention, they do not matter for analysis) and was only still involved in it to the extent that he couldn't take it back, so to survive he had to continue covering his tracks. But he was also incentivized to otherwise act in alignment with the group that was not those on behalf of whom he had made terrible choices, because he was still living in the Dynasty, and as such wasn't actively perpetuating those actions beyond the cover up.

Liliana on the other hand is acting with the Vanguard and has been furthering if not personally committing atrocities on their behalf for a number of years, continuing to the present. Like Essek, she believes her involvement in the cause to be a difficult choice that was made for noble reasons, and now can't see a way out. But she is also relieved to be told to stay, though at the point that they discuss her leaving, she is alone and outside the immediate range of contact or oversight from the Vanguard. It seems reasonable that she could disappear with a decent headstart, and perhaps become untraceable quickly enough to be safe from anyone following. With this context, returning to the Vanguard with the intention of feeding information to the opposition feels like the riskier choice, but crucially it is the devil she knows.

I actually liken this more to Cassandra de Rolo than Essek. Cassandra was manipulated against her brother by the Briarwoods, but this was also spurred by having watched Percy seemingly leave her for dead. There are legitimate reasons why the Briarwoods, as the people who rescued her and then kept her alive for many years, are the easier option in which to place her trust. She knows what she's getting from that vantage point and how to handle it. She doesn't inherently have faith that someone she only knew as a young and helpless child, who ran from the hardships she's faced, would have the strength or willingness to do what she has found necessary for survival.

I think that Liliana's actions are more willful, not least because she was not a child nor in mortal peril when she joined the Vanguard, but she sees herself as having made difficult choices when only faced with difficult options, and I do think they have been difficult. She didn't want to leave her family; she doesn't want to hurt the young Ruidusborn under her care; she is probably genuinely sorry that innocent people were considered a necessary sacrifice for what she sees as the greater good. It is psychologically taxing to feel as though one is always picking between bad options, which is a significant contributing factor for why people buy into a sunk cost for so long. And over time, those hard decisions become easier, because you know what to expect from the outcome. Though Liliana is well aware that she might be killed for a misstep among the Vanguard, she already knows how to act to maintain their favor, but how she might be received on Exandria by those fighting the Vanguard, even with the Hells vouching for her, is anyone's guess.

This is a very real reason why people remain in cults and struggle to push back against this kind of conditioning: because the decision to leave feels more immediately perilous than the decision to stay. (On a certain level making these kinds of choices and actions habitual is a fundamental basis behind a lot of military conditioning.) And if you are acting in the interests of your own survival, but that survival comes at the cost of that of countless others who have not, in fact, made any threat or harm against you to begin with, then is the nature of your survival morally defensible?

This analysis isn't a question of whether Liliana will commit to her role as double agent and turn fully against the Vanguard, or even which one of these is a "better" story; this is about what the story might say if she doesn't. Yes, she might commit to a different path than the one she's on and make an effort to redeem herself, but it is also a perfectly coherent and interesting story if she doesn't.

[bonzos-number-1-fan]

TMAGP 29 Thoughts: Lost in Translation

We're at the penultimate episode of the season, folks. It's a surprisingly standard episode given what we had for the last one. It's also a very TMA flavoured one at that. This episode, despite being written by Alex, might have taken the top spot for one that feels the most like an Archives ep. Which isn't a bad thing. Or even a good thing. However it is an enjoyable thing and I thought this episode was really well put together on the whole. Also, fun fact for the non-readers; this episode was originally called "Locked In".

Spoilers for episode 29 below the cut.

Sam's not dead. What a shock. Genuinely, I've no real clue why people thought him dying there was a possibility. It would've been probably the least satisfying death possible for a central character. I am so on board with Sam’s death at some point though. Maybe at the end of act 1 or the midpoint of act 2 in season 3. If only to shut up the small contingent of the fanbase upset over their own invented issues about him being the sole main character whom all other characters exist to support. The gang is off to Hilltop to find all that juicy Magnus lore.

I don't think there is much to get into for Lena and Gwen's exchange here but I do think it's set up for her role in the finale. So I'll cover that later.

I really liked this incident. It felt very classically Magnus to me and was just a really solid self-contained story. It's also a really good one for using the format it's in the the benefit of the narrative being told. The structure of it as a diary and how that's used to show something traumatic happening before it's ever spoken of was very well done. The characters being an older couple also is something I think is really clever too. Not just because it helps explain the diary format. I think in a literal sense this episode doesn't need much of my insights. It was all pretty clear exactly what happened. Old couple redid their proposal holiday to tragic results leading to the survivor taking their own life via magic key. Tale as old as time that one is. There are a few language details to talk about though. The husband was called Stanley Locke. Stanley is a brand of locks. I can only assume that was intentional. The other reason them being old is important to the events is I think a younger couple would've just not gone into the locked museum. Because that's what the place is. Zamčené muzeum isn't a *lock *museum, it's a *locked *museum. Google translate would've solved this whole episode then and there. The major thing to actually talk about here is the incident's placement as the penultimate incident. It's not likely to be a randomly placed one and given it's about opening all sorts of barriers I think it's pretty obviously foreshadowing for our finale. Hilltop has more than one thing needing to be opened. The Institute's secrets, and the gap in reality. It also mirrors [Error]'s introduction as the first thing they do is open a padlock.

Teddy's near-confession is the most interesting thing in this whole episode for my money. Mostly because it's such fertile ground for speculation. There are a lot of ways it could go but there are some facts that I think point us in a direction. He still works at Royal Mint Court/was interviewed for a job there. He's still up all night. He's got a big secret he needs to tell Alice that's important to her current circumstances enough to be urgent. Meaning he therefore has new information he didn't have before he left. Which means where he is now is in a place that could provide said information. The OIAR has more going on behind the scenes than we ever see yet is seemingly staffed by a tiny amount of people. Which points to Teddy maybe still just being at the OIAR. Either just moving up in the organisation and the party was a ruse, or he was headhunted after he left and his work fell through. It could also be a company like Starkwall too, if there is any real difference between the two. Some offshoot of the Institute is also a possibility given the link between Newton and the Royal Mint. Or, he's been scooped up by Klaus.

The final scene here doesn't have an awful lot to comment on. It's somewhat curious that [Error] is able to get around so unseen but we do know she can teleport. I'm assuming she's on the train to get Celia's secrets about the Institute. Plenty of time for that too as London to Oxford is about an hour on the train. Not really anywhere for them to hide either so they're probably pretty fucked.

Now the long wait until next week begins.

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

What sort of penultimate episode post would be complete without some finale predictions? I think there are a fair few pieces in play here and so there are quite a lot of things to speculate on.

I think there are some fairly obvious things that are likely to happen. Celia is going to get [Error]ed and exposition dump about her whole deal. It's got to come out some time and I think in general the show has been foreshadowing this pretty hard with Gwen and Sam both getting [Error]ed. The other major possibility here is that Alice gets got and she's got some secret twisty trauma. If *Connor is her dead name then she *is on CHDB (the Institute's list of children they tested, see the master sheet below) but I would generally hate that. I mean, they might pull it off but I really don't want Alice to have that backstory. She is the character we know the least about so far though and there have been more than a few hints about the fate of her parents. So it's a strong possibility too IMO. Albeit it does mean that Alice would need to catch up with them somehow. Maybe Teddy can give her a lift and we'll hear what was on his mind. Or it's both as this will be a double-length episode so there is room for that.

Speaking of [Error] it seems likely that Celia is going to reveal at least what she knows about Archivists. With [Error] being this season's antagonist it's likely that she's going to get defeated in the finale and as such we'll lose the best opportunity to learn more about her. Revealing that information after she's dealt with is less impactful. They might end up [Error]ing themselves and given a statement, or villain monologuing. It's curious that they're so obviously capable of speech and have said so little though. So I am expecting something to change there.

Hilltop could go a lot of ways. It could be a gaping maw in realities that sucks our cast off to someplace new. It could be nothing but some clues to the Institute's purpose. I don't have much in the way of anything I'd like it to be either. I generally think it'll be the least interesting bit of the finale. The biggest thing it could answer it won't, that being JMJ, and so I'm content to just let that one play out and not think about it too much. In either case Hilltop is likely to play some role in defeating [Error] and if I had to hazard a guess I think it's likely we'll see some of the great cosmology at play here. Both in terms of TMP itself but I think we'll get some hints at how things have changed from TMA/how TMA's things have changed.

I think we're also going to see a good bit of Gwen going being Lena's back too. Assuming we're not going to jump forward in time at all then Gwen is currently alone in the office and is clearly planning things. I don't think we'll necessarily see anything major happen but I do think it's a pretty likely hook for season 2. Either something to do with Klaus or the other strange emails. It's that or Colin is going to break in and cause some havoc. Gwen is the character I most see going along with him on this too. I think that might be a surprising take to some of you but Gwen is unique in that she doesn't actually give a shit about him, and also wants to ruin Lena's career. Colin wrecking the place while she's not there would certainly do some damage to her job stability.

I'm not too sure we'll see much of the other voiced cast. I can't really see a reason for Lena, Teddy, Ink5oul, or anyone else to get involved in the finale. Although Lena could certainly be a big part of the epilogue assuming any of the Gwen stuff goes down like I expect.

Anyway, lots to look forward to.

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

Incident/CAT#R#DPHW Master Sheet and Terminology Sheet

DPHW Theory: 4254 is unremarkable. At this point I really don't know what it'd take to tip my theory on its head.

CAT# Theory: CAT2 is another funny one for the Person/Place/Object idea. The museum was arguably supernatural but the key was obviously supernatural. So if anything this should be CAT3 or potentially a CAT23 but it's just CAT2. If it is P/P/O I'm going to need a really strong explanation for why it sucks so bad.

R# Theory: Yeah, B sounds good to me. Strong physical evidence of a thing happening but nothing that definitively proves the supernatural. Going into the finale this whole theory seems to be holding pretty well. At least for non-Ss. An S could be a lot of things though so we'll see.

Header talk: Drowning (Subterranean) -/- Key (Metaphor) is somewhat interesting in that Key (Metaphor) can be read as the key itself being entirely metaphorical. I think that's fairly obviously wrong but it's interesting. The meaning is more that the key has the ability to open things in a metaphorical sense. It works on more than just doors, after all. So the key itself is real but it works on a looser interpretation of "opening" than just locks and doors. Beyond just that interpretation there is also the metatextual element that the incident itself is metaphorical for what's to come. Assuming it wasn't randomly placed, that is.

[friedbaekhyunandeggso]

found you - ch. 2 (part I)

pairing: gojo satoru x female oc (ara natsuna)

tropes: psycho! rival! athlete! yandere! gojo x introvert! booksmart! oc

warnings: 18+ only babes, profanity, mentions of abusive parental figure, stalking/possessive themes, death, pet-names (princess, kitten, baby), grinding, fingering, dub/non-consented sex, begging, rough sex, creampie (pls don't b silly & cover ur willy irl), manipulation

word count/plot: [9.5k!] ara catches gojo's attention when news breaks that she is the top academically ranked student in their grade. he is ranked second. he tries to befriend her but she ignores him. despite her obvious disinterest, his obsession begins...

a/n: hi guys so yes, i've decided to make this into a mini-series. honestly i was a bit hesitant to post shi like this bc its obv hella messed up/toxic so pls read at ur own risk. i also want to mention that it is never my intention to glamorize or romanticize a relationship like this-this is simply a dark "romance"/smut story that i happen to write in my free time. i also split this chapter into 2 parts bc it got too long LOL. The second part of this chapter is already written so hopefully i can edit and upload it fast enough but pls look forward to that!

ch. 1 , chapter 2 [ part 1 | part 2 ]

“No. fucking. way.” Millie gasped through the phone, “You had sex with Gojo?”

Ara lowered her phone as she shot a nervous glance towards her bedroom door. It was the weekend so her Dad was home.

She raised the phone to her ear again, whispering-her tone laced with disappointment, “I just told you that Gojo might’ve hurt Noel, Jaemin and Arman just for talking to me and that’s what you're worried about?”

“Wait, you didn’t hear? Jaemin’s dead.”

Ara froze, “What.”

“You left when the cops came but when they searched the house they found his dead body in Nanami’s freezer.”

Ara went silent in shock as Millie continued, “Yeah, there’s like a whole fucking investigation going on. Nanami was pisssssedddd. Poor guy’s probably never gonna throw a party again.”

Ara sputtered, “What-how is that even-“ Ara shook her head, “Is Jaemin really dead?”

“Yes, girl. Why would I lie about that?”

Ara’s heart pounded in her chest. “I-I can’t believe it.”

“Yeah, it’s fucking insane. His pretty face will be missed-but how the fuck do you lock yourself in a freezer?”

Ara’s eyes widened, “He didn’t.”

“He did.”

“No-no, I’m saying he didn’t lock himself in. Someone else could’ve locked him in.”

Ara closed her eyes, fear making her voice waver, “It was probably Gojo.”

“What? Are you serious, Ara.. There’s no fucking way. I get the guy’s into you but that would just be extra.”

Ara swallowed, “Millie—“

“You really think Gojo would do all that cuz Jaemin talked to you?” she asked, doubtfully.

Ara spoke fast, “Yes, he was the one who laced Arman’s drink as well.”

“What? No way. Everyone knows Arman’s took Molly before, he probably overdid it and sent his own bitchass to the hospital.”

“Millie, you don’t understand. He showed me the Molly he used to lace his drink.”

“Huh—Girl, I know you're not super crazy about Gojo and yeah, he’s a total narc but he’s not the type to do that or commit murder.” she stated, flippantly.

Ara’s heart sank.

Millie continued, “Anyway, tell me how the hell you lost your virginity to him because that’s like, major.”

Ara closed her eyes once-more, her brows furrowing, “It wasn’t my choice.” she gritted out.

Suddenly she heard someone call Millie’s name through the phone.

“Shit, my mom’s calling me—“

“Wait,” Ara nearly yelled but quickly clamped her hand over her mouth-eyeing her bedroom door nervously. Her Dad could enter at any second if he wanted to.

“What?”

“I-I need plan B.” she whispered. (a/n: if u don’t know what plan B is, it’s a contraceptive)

Millie gasped, “For real? Jesus—y’all went at it, huh? No condom?!”

Ara squeezed her eyes shut, “Millie, I’m serious.”

“Shit, I don’t know if I can get it to you today. My brother’s out of town so he took the car but-why don’t you ask Gojo?”

“I did-“

Suddenly there was a knock on her window and Ara froze, her head swiveling to see a shadow behind the curtain. He was here.

Ara swallowed, “I-I gotta go.”

“Shit-okay, okay, I’ll try to get it to you by Monday, okay? You better tell me all the details about you and Gojo on the bus.”

Suddenly the sound of the window opening could be heard and Ara quickly ended the call.

Gojo popped his head from around the curtain and stepped out, a bright smile on his lips as he ran a hand through his tousled white hair.

“C’mon, princess—when you gonna open the window on the first knock?”

He had stayed over the whole night since the party. He’d even wanted to shower with her-which she adamantly refused. She just wanted him to leave.

He finally left this morning, telling her some excuse that she didn’t care for—she just needed him to go. She just hadn’t expected him to be back, especially so soon.

He tossed a McDonald’s bag onto her bed.

“You hungry? There’s fries in there. I don’t want em, I just wanted the apple pie. There’s one in there for you too.”

Ever since he entered he kept walking towards her and she kept stepping back.

He went still before raising a brow, “What’re you doing, kitten?”

Her throat felt dry as she stuttered out, “Y-you shouldn’t be here, my Dad’s home. He’s awake.”

“So? Isn’t your door locked?”

“He has a key.”

He smirked, smugly, “I’ll hide if he comes.”

He searched her face before adding, “Happy?”

When she didn’t respond-merely rooted in spot-he tilted his head, “Now let me give my baby a hug.”

Before she could move he sauntered over and pulled her into a hug. Due to her shorter height he had to hunch over to press his face into her neck—planting kisses under her jaw. His hands caressing her sides.

He squeezed her hips while nuzzling his nose further into her neck, “Just wanna squeeze you to death.”

His words sent a shot of fear through her body.

And yet, his intoxicating cologne filled her nostrils—the scent so inviting and rich it was almost seductive. The slight masculine husk at the end of the scent only enhanced its effect. He’d changed his clothes to a simple long sleeve and pants. The shiny watch on his wrist glimmered.

She pushed herself out of his grasp, shaking slightly. His blue eyes attentive as he stared at her.

“I- I need plan B.”

A grin split across his lips, “You’re still on that, kitten?”

“I’m not joking, Gojo. I can’t get pregnant.”

He reached over, placing his hand over her stomach. His hand so large it felt like he covered most of her torso.

“We’re both adults now, aren’t we? We’ll make it work—“

She shoved his hand off.

His grin widened, “You think your tits would get bigger?”

“That’s not funny.” she spat, face flushed, “I need plan B, Gojo—I’m not joking.”

Suddenly he moved towards her, easily cupping the sides of her face as he kissed the top of her head.

“Okay, okay—so stubborn,”

She trembled in his hold but did her best to not wrench herself away just yet. She needed to get him to bring it for her. She looked up at him.

He was already looking down at her, “Be a good kitten and I’ll think about it.” he mused.

He slipped his thumb past her lips and her eyes widened. His other hand moved to her nape-to hold her in place.

“Suck.” he ordered gently.

When she didn’t move, his fingers at her nape tightened, “Or do you want the real thing?”

She wrenched herself away from him. Fear bouncing within her body as she stared at him, out of breath.

His eyes flashed with desire as he stared down at his glistening thumb, “If you weren’t sore I’d fuck you so hard right now.” he murmured.

He’d tried to fuck her again last night. But the second he cupped her cunt, she’d writhed so bad—he decided to listen to her little mewls and whines. He figured she was sore due to the number he’d done on her.

He lowered his hand before looking at her, “I’m leaving. I won’t be back till Monday.”

She was frozen—keeping her face as blank as possible to not show her relief.

He stepped towards her, cupping her chin to keep her looking up at him, “You better answer my texts, okay? Don’t make me upset.”

She swallowed before nodding.

A light smile slipped across his lips, “Good girl.”

He bent low, tilting his face to kiss her. She fought the urge to wrench her face away. Her lips trembled as he pressed his lips into hers—letting him nibble on her bottom lip before he pulled back.

The small smile still on his lips, “Don’t miss me too much.”

She nodded slowly.

His eyes dropped to her lips once-again, his hand slipping around her back to draw her chest flush against him. She fought the urge to wince when she felt his hard-on press into her lower belly through his jeans.

Her heart raced a mile per minute as she looked up at him. She was terrified.

His hand on her chin slid to her cheek, his thumb playing with her bottom lip.

“So pretty, kitten. Too pretty,” he mused.

His hand on her back slid down to her ass, giving it a nice squeeze. She jolted a bit, a slight gasp leaving her lips.

“M’gonna miss you so much.” he muttered, before kissing her once more. His lips more insistent this time.

He finally pulled away, his eyes wistful as he looked her up and down.

“Don’t know how I’m gonna go without you.” he spoke huskily.

She closed her eyes, locking her jaw as he showered a trail of kisses down her temple to her neck. Each kiss making her pulse go faster.

His lips found hers once more, giving her one last kiss before finally stepping back, his face flushed and lips parted—as if he didn’t want to be done. His blazing blue eyes were half-lidded and hazy with lust.

She shivered.

He raised his hand to playfully tap her nose.

An easygoing smirk slipped across his lips, “See you at school, princess.”

She swallowed before looking away from him and nodding. School? How am I gonna face him at school? Just thinking about it made her uneasy.

He turned around and pushed the curtains aside. He easily pulled the window open and jumped out, disappearing downwards somewhere.

She waited a beat before running towards the window. She looked around to see that he was nowhere to be seen.

She swiftly closed the window and pulled the curtains over.

She stood still for a moment before falling to her knees. She felt like a complete mess. She covered her face with her hands.

What do I do?

Everyone was talking about Nanami’s party. Everyone.

People seemed worried, confused and shocked. Especially after it came out that Arman had died. He supposedly went into a coma at first and then his heart had completely stopped.

An unnecessary amount of police officers loitered the halls. They were calling in students-that had reportedly been to the party-to the office. Luckily, she hadn’t been called in yet.

To say Ara felt sick wouldn’t be covering it. She felt absolutely morbid. First, Jaemin and now, Arman. She had hoped that Arman would make it. Noel hadn’t shown up to school either.

The rumors were spreading like wildfire. Everyone seemed to think that Jaemin locking himself in the freezer was a drunk accident. As well as Arman overdosing. Just a bad mistake. But Ara knew the truth. Gojo had flat out told her.

But would anyone believe me?

She frowned as she remembered Millie’s reaction. She had completely thought she was crazy. Even when she’d met her on the bus and she tried to bring it up again, Millie dismissed it—saying that she must've been envisioning things because she was crossed. She even went as far as saying that she would trust Gojo with her drink.

As-fucking-if!

All Millie had wanted to know was how her and Gojo’s night had gone. Ara didn’t even bother trying to express that he’d forced himself on her. Simply just saying that he was horrible in bed and that she never wanted it to happen again. Millie had been astonished.

As much as Ara wanted to be mad at the girl she couldn’t help but be grateful for her because she brought her the contraceptive that she asked for. She was terrified of having waited too long to take one. She had googled it and heard that they were the most effective the sooner they were taken.

She needed to take it as soon as possible.

She stepped out of the classroom, readjusting her bag’s strap over her shoulder. She walked quickly down the hall.

She slowed down her pace when she turned the hall and saw a policeman walking down the opposite way. Her throat went dry.

For a second her mind wandered to what would happen if she just stopped the police officer and told him everything. From top to bottom what happened at the party—Noel’s and Arman’s parents deserved to know the truth. And the students deserved to know that their fellow ‘heart-throb’ classmate was a psychopath murderer.

And maybe she could get justice for herself—before it was too late.

But admitting that meant it was definitely going to get back to her father. And if her father had even heard about her whereabouts that night.. what she’s done and seen…

She stopped in the middle of the hall, indecision making her tense up.

The officer frowned, stopping mid-step before approaching her.

“You okay, miss—“

“Officer Miles!” a familiar, enthusiastic voice greeted from down the hall.

Ara’s heart stopped.

The officer’s face lit up, “If it isn’t Gojo Satoru.”

She took a couple steps back to watch Gojo approach the Officer, greeting him with a pat on the shoulder before effortlessly roping him into a conversation.

It was common knowledge that Gojo’s father was the past Director of National Intelligence for the former President. Despite that, money had always been flooding in his family for generations. Eitherway, it wasn’t unexpected that Gojo knew the cop by name because his family was closely integrated with law enforcement. It seemed not only on a federal level but also local.

Her throat was drier than the Sahara desert as she quickly scurried away—barely looking in Gojo’s direction. She did not need to catch his attention right now-but in the back of her mind she knew she had.

Questions ran in her mind a mile per minute. Did he interrupt the police officer on purpose? Did he know I was considering snitching? Does he think I’m gonna snitch? Is he going to ask me about it later—

She shook her head. She needed to focus on getting to the bathroom right now and downing that contraceptive pill—worry about everything else later.

She entered the bathroom and sighed in relief when she found it was empty. She glanced back to make sure no one was behind her-she felt the need to, for some reason.

Her heart raced as she placed her backpack on the counter before pausing when she realized maybe she should take the pill in the bathroom stall. That way if anyone entered the bathroom no one could see her.

She quickly went into the bathroom stall only for a hand to stop the door a second before it closed. Suddenly Gojo stood before her, locking the stall closed behind himself.

His platinum hair was left in its typical ruffled state. His uniform was perfectly ironed, as usual. His classic black sunglasses peeked out of his dress-shirt’s chest pocket. And his scent, that masculine, deep yet alluring cologne that felt too expensive to be filling the air between them.

Her eyes widened in fear. She was certain he was going to be angry-he’d just seen her almost speak to the police officer. There was no way he wasn’t—

“Fuck, I missed you so much, baby.” he cooed.

He reached out to touch her and she immediately backed away, despite the small space.

Her heart raced in terror. “Gojo, w-what are you doing?”

“What else? I saw you in the hall and followed you. You saw me too—“ he pouted, “but you ignored me, meanie.”

He reached out to grasp her chin, making her look up at him, “You didn’t miss me?”

She could hear her heart pounding in her ears. He felt too large in the cramped space of the bathroom stall. Her body had broken out in a cold-sweat.

Her instincts screamed at her to get as far away from him as possible—and yet, she was terrified to do anything too rash. She was still in shock that he hadn’t suspected her of snitching on him.

Fear made her voice waver as she looked into his intimidating, diamond-like cerulean eyes. She felt like they were going to swallow her whole.

“Gojo…”

His platinum brows drew together at her shakiness, “Yeah, kitten?”

She locked her jaw, hating the concern in his eyes. She was terrified to even bring this up but she knew she had to.

“Arman and Jaemin—they’re dead, Gojo. They’re dead.” her voice cracked.

Something dark seemed to blaze within his eyes before his fingers tightened around her chin.

His voice was tight, “You worried about them?”

She grabbed his wrist, attempting to pull away from his grasp.

“You killed them.” she spat-an undercurrent of hopelessness in her fierce tone.

Before he could respond the sound footsteps entering the bathroom was audible. Her eyes widened.

Suddenly his hands were on her, turning her around so that her back was flush against his chest. Her heart jumped in terror when she felt his hard-on against her lower back.

Just as she gasped, his hand clamped around her mouth. He leaned low, his lips brushing her ear with each word he spoke, “They died because of you.”

She writhed in his grasp, only to easily have her head shoved back against his chest by his hand on her mouth. His other hand pressed into her lower belly, making him feel more of his erection—this time against her ass.

“Don’t make a fuss, kitten, you don’t want anyone to hear you now, do we?” he whispered into her ear.

Her eyes widened as she heard feminine voices speaking a short distance away.

His hand at her navel slipped down to her leg, slipping right around her upper thigh to hoist her smaller frame higher so he could press his throbbing erection fully against her ass.

He began to grind his cock against her.

“Mmm, missed you so much.” he muttered, lowly.

Just as she made short noises of protest, his hand squeezed around her mouth. “Don’t whine, kitten. It’s your fault I’m hard. I couldn’t stop thinking about you all weekend.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, locking her jaw as she tried not to be too loud despite wanting to desperately get away from him. The feeling of his hard-on sliding between her ass was the oddest sensation.

“F-fuck,” he gritted out in a harsh whisper.

His hand on her upper thigh slid to her cunt, his fingers rubbing against her clit through her underwear. She jolted in his grasp-a light squeak leaving her lips.

The feminine voices in the bathroom went quiet.

Gojo froze-only to continue rubbing at her sweet spot when the voices resumed. He chuckled darkly in her ear.

She writhed against him as his fingers worked her clit through her underwear. She bit back the squeals threatening to leave her lips at each of his ministrations.

Her hands went to his at her core, attempting to shove his wrist away but he released her mouth to clasp both of her wrists in one hand. He held her hands to chest.

She attempted to get his hand away from her cunt by squeezing her legs together but instead his fingers dipped deeper into her core. Another low chuckle left his lips when she gasped.

His hand gripping her wrists tightened, “You’ve got to stay quiet now, kitten-since you wanna act so bad.”

She bit into her lower lip when he slipped a finger into her warmth. Somehow she was incredibly warm down there-almost slippery-wet.

She felt his chest vibrate when he groaned into her neck. She clenched her teeth when she felt his hard-on throb behind her. He began to grind himself against her once-more.

She resisted the urge to squeal when his finger slipped deeper inside her. His finger was just too long. Her body jolted when he slipped another in.

“Ha-aah,” he bucked his hard-on further into her, “So warm.” he groaned.

He nipped on her ear as he rubbed his cock against her, letting himself fully revel in the soft curve of her ass. Her breathing was all over the place as his actions made her cunt squeeze tightly around his fingers.

He stopped grinding against her, instead bending lower to drop a kiss to her temple. His fingers moved within her.

“You need some attention down here, don’t you?”

His fingers in her cunt began to pump in and out of her. Her body jerked forward—if it weren’t for his hand pinning her wrists to her chest she would’ve certainly fallen over.

His fingers never left her cunt, only traveling deeper when she jerked forward.

“You know,” his voice husky at her ear, “You never came last time.”

His fingers pumped in and out of her faster. She glanced down to see her skirt bunched up and a hint of her underwear shoved aside for his fingers to gain access to her cunt. His fist was slick with her wetness as he pumped in and out of her.

“Need to change that.” he spoke lowly into her ear.

Her thighs squeezed around him.

Suddenly the sound of the bathroom doors closing echoed. Before she could even think to get away from him, his hand at her cunt ripped off her underwear. Her body buckled at the action but he gripped her hip to steady her.

He then straightened up, letting go of her hip to unbuckle himself.

“Can’t wait anymore.”

Her eyes widened in realization and she shoved herself away from him. She struggled against his hold on her wrists but managed to make him let go.

Just as she moved towards the door, her head was slammed against the stall wall. His hand was at her nape, holding her still against the door. He pushed her head lower, making her ass stick out.

He flipped her skirt up, revealing her bare, slick cunt. He shoved the full length of his cock in her.

She cried out. His hand slid around her nape to her jaw—cupping her mouth. Her body writhed at the sensation of feeling so stuffed.

She shivered when she heard a low, relieved sigh leave his lips. His dick twitched within her.

He slammed his cock into her once more-making her body buck against the door. She cried out into his hand, turning her face aside to reach around and place her hand on him anywhere—in attempt to stop him.

Before her hands could make contact, he grabbed both of her wrists in one of his once-more. Pinning her wrists to her back.

She squealed when he delivered another harsh thrust of his hips to her bruised cunt.

“N-no, Gojo-please-please, not here..” she begged-her low voice muffled by his fingers.

His hand around her wrists squeezed. He bent over her, pressing his dick deep into her as he did so. The tip of his cock seating itself in places no one else had been. She writhed against the stall door.

He spoke right beside her ear, “I’ll keep your hands cuz you’re still being bad.”

“Gojo, please, let me go. Let me go.” she whisper-cried.

“Call me Satoru, princess, Satoru.”

She closed her eyes, tears slipping down her cheeks. How did I get here?

“Please..” she begged, helplessly.

His cock pumped in and out of her slowly. She felt her wetness travel down her thighs.

“C’mon, say it.” he urged, like a devil in her ear. “Satoru.”

She was silent, merely taking in the sensation of his cock fucking her slowly as quietly as she could.

Suddenly his cock snapped into her sharply, making her wince as she cried out. The tip of his cock hit somewhere deep enough to hurt, though she couldn’t deny the jolt of pleasure that ran up her spine.

“Please!” she whimpered.

His hand on her mouth tightened, “Say it.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, “S-satoru-“

Suddenly his cock slammed into her again and again—much, much rougher. Her body bucked against the stall doors. Tiny gasps leaving her mouth with each rough fuck. The sound of his balls hitting her cunt echoing within the bathroom.

“Again.” he ordered huskily into her ear.

“S-satoru.” she mumbled, her mind going blank.

His pace picked up. His cock pulsating appreciatively in her cunt. She swore it’d grown in size.

She moaned, her thighs squeezing together in pain.

“Ha-aah,” he breathed into her ear, his cock pummeling into her so hard she forgot how to think.

“Sounds so fuckin’ pretty coming from your mouth.” his voice rough against her ear.

Her cunt squeezed around him once more and he groaned. He ground his cock into her, letting the tip of his cock touch places that felt too deep for her. Suddenly he withdrew his hips, keeping his cock halfway buried in her before shoving his full length into her again.

Her body jerked against the door again, wincing, “Gojo!”

“Satoru.” he corrected, darkly before delivering a series of deep fucks at an unwarranted pace.

Her mind was too fucked out to think.

His cock moved too fast—too deep within her. Accessing spots she didn’t think possible. His cock felt too thick, too hard-pulsing as he moved roughly in her slick walls.

“How can you ask me to let you go when you feel like this?” he gritted out.

Just then, his cock hit a spot she didn’t know existed. The tip of his cock simply pressing a spot so delicious she crumpled in his grasp. Her whole body shook so hard, she lost all her balance. 

She was too shocked to moan. Simply letting her body quiver as Gojo slid his hand down from her mouth to her neck, pulling her flat against him to hold her up.

He kept-up his rough pace, only slowing down when her body stopped quivering. She was completely out of breath, simply too overwhelmed.

He released her neck, letting his hand slide lower to squeeze her tits through her uniform.

“Fuck, that’s it, kitten.” He closed his eyes, reveling in the feeling of how her cunt continued to spasm around him. The feeling was heavenly, especially coming from the narrow space of her cunt around him.

He palmed her hard nipple, “I made my pretty princess feel good, didn’t I?”

Her cunt walls twitched from the aftereffects of her first orgasm—from anyone that wasn’t herself.

He drove his cock into her once more. Making her groan in pain. Bits of pleasure scattered throughout her body as his cock began to slowly thrust into her.

Her arms were still at a rather uncomfortable angle, pinned behind her back-causing her to arch against him. The angle all too perfect for his cock to continue abusing her cunt.

He pressed a deft kiss to her temple, “I know it hurts, baby, but it hurt too good just now, didn’t it?”

His cock gradually thrusted faster into her, “I’ll keep making you feel good.”

She couldn’t find it in her to speak. Simple too mind blown and worn-out by the overwhelming sense of pleasure she’d just experienced. It was almost scary how good she’d felt.

She winced as his cock seemed to take full advantage of how soft her cunt had grown. Her insides felt completely messed up as his cock pumped in and out of her.

His fingers tightened around her neck before he buried his face into her hair, “Missed you so much.” 

Suddenly he thrusted into her far too deep, searing his cock completely into her. Her soft insides squeezing around him so tight, his cockhead twitched.

She felt the entirety of his cock pulsate before feeling spurts of something warm fill the narrow space between her legs. The substance all too sticky as it slipped down her legs, simply already too full inside.

Her eyes were wide in shock as he slowly thrusted into her a couple more times—letting her feel his cock twitch till it didn’t anymore.

Finally he went still, his breath completely haggard as he removed his face from her hair.

His diamond blue eyes scanned the side of her face before he slowly withdrew his hips from her. Just as his cockhead was about to slip out of her, he slammed himself back inside.

She flinched, moaning.

His fingers on her neck caressed her, “Sorry, baby, don’t wanna go just yet. Feels too good.”

She stood still for a moment. Completely stunned to silence as she caught her breath. She was absolutely terrified of how to proceed.

She squeezed her eyes shut-wanting to sob. He came in me again.

She slowly wriggled her hips, “L-let me go.” she whispered.

His hand on her neck tightened before he nuzzled his face into her shoulder.

“No.” he whined, reluctantly.

He pressed his cock into her slightly, making her shiver. He stayed like that for a moment before finally pulling out. He took his absolute time, dragging out the action enough for the sound to echo in the quiet bathroom when his cock finally popped out of her.

Her body trembled when she felt that familiar substance leak down her inner thighs. She glanced down to see streaks of white lining the insides of her leg.

Her insides twisted at the sight.

“Made a mess, didn’t I.” he muttered before reaching over to swipe a streak of his cum and stuff his finger into her. She jolted sensitively.

“Want you to keep every drop.” he mused through gritted teeth.

She immediately stepped away from him, yanking her hands from his grasp to turn around. She stood with her back pressed to the stall door.

His hands went to her hips to keep her upright as she stumbled.

“Baby.” he warned, subtly admonishing her for moving too fast.

She shoved his hand away, “Don’t call me that.”

A handsome grin split across his lips, “You like kitten better?”

Her eyes widened at the playfulness in his tone. She couldn’t understand how he was like this.

She sharply looked away, not wanting to look at his half-erect cock that he still hadn’t tucked away.

She quickly reached for the stall’s lock—the urge to get away from him growing stronger by the second. He blocked her hand a second before she could touch it.

“You’re not gonna clean yourself up?” he asked before his spare hand squeezed her hip. “Naughty girl.”

“I’ll clean you up.” he added.

She shoved herself out of his grasp. “I can clean myself up.” she spat-unsuccessfully trying to keep the shakiness out of her tone, “J-just get out.”

“Ara-“

“Get. out.” she bit out before whispering, “please.”

He was quiet for a moment, she couldn’t see his face due to facing aside. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears.

“Fine,” his voice was low, “Only if you look at me first.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, resisting the urge to scream. Instead she spoke-even quieter than him, “T-then zip up your pants.”

She thought she heard a faint chuckle before the sound of a zipper was audible in the silence.

She opened her eyes, facing him.

His face was completely devoid of emotion. The only emotion was a touch of softness swimming within his sky-blue eyes.

He cupped the left side of her face, “Don’t be mad at me, okay?”

She resisted the urge to flinch. She wanted to say so much but she was scared-terribly, terribly scared. He could react so differently-it gave her whiplash.

He pressed his forehead to hers, “I just missed you so much. I got so happy when you texted me y’know, but it wasn’t enough. I need you. Just you.”

She hated how strained he sounded, as if he were helpless to his impulses. As if those words could justify his actions. She had texted him over the weekend-her responses short, dry and inconsistent compared to his timely, emoticon-filled ones. She was just scared of what he would do if she didn’t.

Not that it mattered because he ruined her the second he saw her anyway.

“I just like you too much.” he murmured.

She squeezed her eyes shut-wanting to cry.

He pushed his forehead further into her, “Talk to me.” he urged.

Her lower lip wobbled before she burst out-unable to hold back as she whispered, “Y-you’re hurting me.”

His sterling blue eyes widened as he searched her face, wildly, “No-no, I made you feel good, didn’t I? Tell me-tell me what-“

Suddenly the bell rang and his expression grew distraught. They both knew the bathrooms were bound to fill up in seconds during the five minute breaks between classes.

She resisted the urge to shove him back, merely facing elsewhere instead. Her rapid heartbeat making it hard for her to focus.

“Shit, kitten, we’ll finish this convo after school, okay? Or later-at your house, okay?”

She froze at the idea of him coming to her house again.

“Okay?” he insisted.

She nodded, quickly. He pressed a deft kiss to her lips before unlocking the stall door and stepping out.

She stood still for a long moment after that-biting into her lower lip to resist the urge to break down and cry.

She shakily reached into her backpack, pulling out the contraceptive with trembling hands. She hoped-prayed-it worked. Out of all nightmares occurring in her life, she needed the nightmare that was pregnancy to not become real.

She was shuffling around the books in her locker. Too lost in a funk to realize she was already holding the book she was looking for in her hand.

“Ara Natsuna?” an unfamiliar voice spoke from nearby.

She looked over to see a girl she didn’t recognize, but from the aura the girl exuded she had to be a junior or a senior, like herself.

“..Yes?” she croaked out, before clearing her throat.

She hated the once-over the girl gave her. She didn’t miss the look of judgment that passed over the girl's face-though it did nothing to her state of confidence because her father's looks of judgment were much worse.

But she couldn’t blame the girl. She knew her skirt was slightly rumpled after what Gojo had done to her in the bathroom hours prior—and her eyes were probably still swollen despite the countless amount of times she’d splashed water on her face.

She just wanted to go home.

Instead of saying some nasty comment, the girl merely smiled. A smile so wide that Ara immediately saw through its fakeness.

“Are you and Gojo dating?” she inquired, with an innocent blink of her eyes.

Ara was instantly stunned.

It was then she noticed that a couple of the surrounding students were eavesdropping on their convo. Some were trying to be discrete but after one look at her surroundings it was rather obvious.

She spotted the girl’s friends huddled a little distance away, staring eagerly. It looked like a little fan club of juniors-or underclassmen.

Are you fucking serious?

Ara spoke fast, “What makes you ask me that?”

The girl’s eyelashes fluttered-Does that really work?—“Gojo said it.”

Ara wanted to scream-but instead her response was impulsive. Her voice tight, “No. We aren’t dating and we never will.”

She slammed her locker closed, not bothering to look back as she fast-walked down the hall. She needed this day to end.

I need to get rid of him.

Ara squeezed her eyes shut—terrified out of her mind. She’d come up with a short term-very half-assed-plan in the midst of doing her school work earlier.

She didn’t know how she’d managed to complete all her homework but she had. If there was one thing she wasn’t willing to fuck up it was her grades. Sure, she had her dad on her ass about them but it was her only ticket out of ‘here’—aka this hellhole called her family house and now high school. She needed to go to a good college-far, far away from here.

She glanced back at the window before hesitantly opening her bedroom door. It was a weekday so her Dad usually slept early. She peeked through to see her Dad’s bedroom light turn off through the crack underneath the door.

Perfect.

Her heart raced as she grabbed her pillow and blanket from the bed. She knew Gojo was going to try come over today and she was going to do everything in her power to avoid it, if possible. She knew she shouldn’t trigger him—that she should think of a better plan but she couldn’t help but feel bile rise up into her throat whenever she thought of him. So acting on her short-term plan would do.

She just didn’t want to see him.

She stepped out of her room and wandered downstairs. She was going to sleep in the basement. Lucky for her, the basement was furnished but she was sure when Gojo arrived he wouldn’t go there.

At first she had contemplated trying to find a way to lock the window—but it was no use, the lever on the window was broken. She wasn’t sure when that happened but she wouldn’t put it past Gojo to have done it on purpose.

Then she had contemplated sleeping in the living room and finding a way to lock her bedroom door from the outside-but then she knew Gojo would automatically know she was locking him out and she was terrified of what reaction that might invoke.

So she settled on simply sleeping elsewhere in the house-the basement. She would simply lock the basement from the inside and sleep within. She was sure he was going to search the house but she refused to think too hard about it. She almost hoped her Dad would catch him sneaking about. She just had to be cautious of making sure her Dad didn’t catch her sleeping in the basement.

Gojo had called twice and texted several times since school had ended. Giving her short random updates of his day and asking about hers but she hadn’t responded. She wanted to block him but she was scared—too damn scared. She was relieved he didn’t seem too angry over text just yet though.

But she knew she was playing with fire.

She shivered when she entered the basement. The heating wasn’t the best down here but it would have to do. She quickly locked the door before laying out her pillow and blanket on the couch and laying down.

Her fear made it hard for her to feel relaxed enough to sleep. She rubbed her eyes, a wave of exhaustion overcoming her.

She was so tired of feeling scared. First her Dad and now Gojo. When is it all gonna end?

She sighed, sleep overcoming her rather quickly as her mind wandered to dark places.

She hastily closed her bedroom window before falling to her knees. Her legs trembled as she buried her face in her hands.

Her plan had worked. She hadn’t seen Gojo last night—and she muted his messages so she didn’t see the 150+ unread messages he’d sent her throughout the night. But she was scared shitless—she didn’t want to go to school.

She’d set an alarm to wake up before her Dad so she could make it back to her bedroom in time-in case he decided to check on her. She was terrified that she might find Gojo in her room but he was nowhere to be seen. The only thing that signaled he might’ve been there was the curtains being pushed aside. She tried not to think about it too hard.

But it all came crashing down on her when she was trudging to the bus stop in the morning. She had been staring at the home screen of her phone, at the daunting number of 157 at the corner of her message app. She knew who all 157 of those texts were from. It didn’t help that there were about 23 missed calls either.

And she realized she couldn’t go to school. She knew-knew-something bad was going to happen. He’d violated her in school before so what was going to stop him from doing it again?

She started to sob.

The little voice in the back of mind reminded her that she needed to call the school before they called her Dad to notify him of her absence. She’d only done it twice before, but sometimes she pretended to be her Mom and call the school about her absence before they contacted her actual parents.

She threw her backpack off. She was so tired of having to worry about things like this. She felt like everything she did she had to overthink because of the egg-shells she had to walk around with everyone. It was exhausting.

Everything she did could cause a reaction. Like sleeping anywhere but her room would not only upset Gojo but her Dad. Just like taking a day off from school would make her Dad livid. So much so, that she avoided coming back home through the front door because she knew her Dad would see it through the camera.

Why couldn’t her life just be normal?

And now-on top of everything-she had a killer obsessed with her.

Why is this happening to me?

She wiped her tears, frustration making her weary despite her rather pleasant sleep. For some reason, she’d slept decently in the basement-even if she’d woken up in a cold sweat.

She slowly stood up, forcing herself to head downstairs and grab the home phone to call the school in the best Mom voice she could muster. Her Mom was still out of the country. Lucky her.

She plopped onto the couch in the living room. She grabbed the home phone from the coffee table and cleared her throat, making the call in the most assertive, motherly tone she could.

Once the call ended, she laid back against the couch. She turned on the TV for some background noise. The several churning emotions running rampant within her making her feel completely worn out.

She closed her eyes, telling herself that she’d just relax for a bit, only to become lulled into a deep slumber.

The sound of the TV turning off woke her up. She blinked, sitting up groggily as she looked at her reflection in the dark screen of the TV.

She squinted when she noticed a tall, white-haired male standing behind the couch-behind her.

Gojo.

She bolted up, scrambling to the other side of the living room.

His expression was blank as he watched her stand in front of the TV. Her eyes blown wide in fear.

He tilted his head, strands of his icy hair falling over his forehead in the process, “You’re avoiding me.”

She didn’t like how flat his tone was. Or how absurdly imperfect he looked. He always looked perfect but his hair was more messed up than usual, his uniform’s blazer nowhere to be seen-not that he ever wore it in the first place-and his dress-shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbow, showcasing the prominent veins crawling up his forearms.

He held up her phone and her heart jumped to her throat.

“You changed your lockscreen,” he mused, before a dry chuckle slipped out of him.

He had changed her home and lock screen to a shirtless mirror selfie of himself in her bathroom. An obvious thirst trap. He’d taken the picture the night he stayed over after their 'first time'. She assumed she was asleep when he changed it.

“Fine, I can take that but.. ignoring my calls, my texts-“ another dry, incredulous chuckle leaving his lips, “-you didn’t even open them. In fact, you muted me—and now you don’t show up at school?”

Her throat went dry. She had no choice but to assume he either knew her phone password or used her Face ID to unlock her phone while she was asleep. Eitherway, he clearly had seen that she silenced his notifications.

Suddenly his intricate blue eyes zoned in on her, any humor in his voice dissolving, “Where did you sleep, Ara.”

Her breath stopped short.

His eyes never left hers-his half-lidded gaze would’ve made him appear bored if his tone wasn’t so offhandedly calm, “I know you were home, but where.”

She took a hesitant step backwards.

He took a step around the couch, playing with her phone in one hand. “I know you weren’t with Millie so where’d you go? Did you leave your phone here and go somewhere?”

She couldn’t believe it. He must’ve activated her phone location.

His gaze hardened, “I’m asking you something, Ara.”

She couldn’t find it in herself to respond. How the hell am I supposed to respond to that?

Her whole body was alert with fear. She wanted to run but she was terrified he would outrun her. He was an athlete after all.

She hadn’t missed that the wire attached to the home phone on the coffee table was now disconnected. Undoubtedly, his work.

She needed to think ofsomething-anything to get out of this situation. And because she couldn’t think, she simply acted.

She ran so far down into the downstairs hallway, swerving into a turn into a wall. She was certain he could’ve easily chased her if he chose too but he somehow hadn’t.

She thought she heard a faint chuckle a distance away-probably still in the living room.

“Okay, we can play the cat and mouse game,” his voice seemed to carry into the hall, “but I’ll tell you right now, Ara. You won’t win.”

“I’ll always find you.”

Her body seemed to go cold at his words. She couldn’t go on like this-she needed a plan. She contemplated running straight for the front door-it would alert the front door cameras and automatically notify her Dad of her presence at home.

But contacting her Dad made her throat constrict. It didn’t help that Gojo might be anticipating that course of action.

She trembled. Maybe the back-door? Through the garage? But that meant passing the living room. He could still be there.

She had to do something. She had to try and check.

She slowly walked further down the hall, turning to peek into the living room from the opposite turn of the corridor. He was nowhere in sight.

Her heart jumped in her chest. Her gut told her not to do it—to not run across the living room. She was certain he was near. Her gut told her he was anticipating it.

But what he wouldn’t anticipate was her going upstairs. There was nowhere to get out upstairs. Except for the balcony attached to her Dad’s office and the master bedroom. Then there was her room window.

She dashed up the stairs as quietly as she could. A scream nearly ripping from her throat when she swore she saw his blurry figure move downstairs from the corner of her eye.

She ran into the guest bedroom, before scurrying into its attached bathroom. She quickly stepped into the bathtub, pulling the shower curtain to hide herself.

Fuck! That was too loud!

She silently jumped out-her heart pounding in her ears as she hastily stepped into the bathroom’s walk-in pantry. She slipped inside, hiding behind the pantry door just as the bathroom door opened.

She stopped breathing, watching his tall figure through the crack beside the door. The look of precision and focus in his gaze was unlike anything she’d ever seen. His straight posture exuding lethality.

His footsteps were soundless as he walked over to the bathtub. He harshly pulled back the curtain—making her flinch.

He stood there for a second before opening the other bathroom door. This bathroom was attached to two guest bedrooms.

He didn’t spare the rest of the bathroom a glance as he swiftly exited through the other door. He clearly assumed she’d left through there—and she nearly had, if she hadn’t spotted the bathroom pantry first.

She covered her mouth as she remembered to breathe. This was bad. He knew she was upstairs now. There was no way she could go anywhere.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

All he needed to do was chill in the main upstairs hallway and she’d reveal herself eventually. That was if she moved.

She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling incredibly uneasy. She couldn’t sit and wait like this. It was gonna kill her. She couldn’t risk Gojo coming back into the bathroom to catch her like this.

She shook her head, staring down at her wobbly legs as she ran her hands through her hair. Think. Think. Think!

In the midst of her despair, an idea flashed within her mind. Something so unlike her and risky, she wanted to puke. She wasn’t sure if it was even gonna work.

There’s no way I can do this. She wanted to gag, but in the back of her mind she knew she had to. It was the only way.

Suddenly-something within her turned off. Turning off the tremors running along her body. The tight feeling in her throat. The mind-numbing fear.

She waited a beat before stepping out from behind the pantry door. She walked into the guest bedroom he’d entered moments ago, her restless heart rate stuttering as she walked further into the room.

To her surprise, he was nowhere to be found. Instead the other door leading out the guest bedroom was left partly open.

She closed her eyes, she knew she wasn’t going to be alone soon enough.

She closed her eyes, “Satoru.” she called out, her voice sounding weak to her ears.

She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, resisting the urge to tremble as her hands shook imperceptibly at her sides.

“Satoru.” she called out, her voice clearer.

Suddenly the aura in the room changed and she knew. She knew.

Her body tensed instinctively. Every nerve in her body backfiring as her instincts screamed at her-telling her this was wrong-downright wrong. Signaling she was in danger.

She squeezed her hands into fists, forcefully willing herself to calm. Forcing her thoughts to go quiet at the pain of her nails digging into her palm.

She slowly opened her eyes and caught sight of the mirror in front of her. The large mirror was attached to the vanity and showcased the sight of him.

He stood as still as a statue, directly behind her—yet not close enough to touch her. His tall frame towered over her.

But his eyes. His eyes are what made her stomach flip flop. He was looking directly at her, jaw locked. He looked at her as if he wanted to rip her apart.

But since he was looking down at her, he didn’t seem to catch her alert gaze staring at him through the mirror. She felt her body tense up further. She couldn’t lose her resolve..

“S-satoru..” her voice a soft plea.

She saw him tilt his head, his eyes flitting closed. She swore she felt his cool breath run down her spine.

She saw him slowly open his eyes, “Why are you saying my name so prettily.”

Despite knowing he was behind her, she nearly flinched at the sound of his voice anyway. She bit into her lower lip-doing everything she could to resist the natural instinct of wanting to scurry away from him.

Her voice quavered, “Because I'm tired of running from you.”

“Quitting?”

Her breath caught. She didn’t know how he managed to sound so cold yet amused at the same time. He always caught her off-guard but she had to convince him.

She hung her head, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth. She didn’t want to say her next words.

She lowered her hand-her voice coming out oddly calm, “What’s there to quit, Satoru.. I’m already yours.”

His eyes widened.

Suddenly he grabbed her hair, pulling her back flat against his chest. He dug his face into her temple, nearly growling, “Then why ignore me?”

She gasped slightly before swallowing. The sight of herself in his immovable grasp in the mirror was doing something to her.

“Because I’m scared,” her voice cracked as she whispered, “I’m scared of falling for you, Satoru.”

She saw his eyes flash with surprise before his hand in her hair suddenly forced her eyes away from the mirror, turning her head up to look at him.

Tears swam in her eyes as he searched her face. His sterling blue eyes unreadable.

A moment of silence ensued before he suddenly pressed his forehead to hers, “But I want you to fall for me, kitten.”

Just as he lowered himself to kiss her, she impulsively turned her head away. Her heart thumped rapidly when she realized she shouldn’t have done that.

She came up with something on the spot, “I-I can’t fall for someone who doesn’t care about me.”

She saw his white brows furrow in the mirror, “You don’t think I care about you?”

She turned around, staggering out of his grasp. “I know you don’t. You don’t care about what I want.”

His gaze was attentive as he stared at her, “What do you want.”

She swallowed. She had to be careful about this..

She took a step back from him, “I.. I don’t want to be a Mother till I’m 25. J-just like my Mom.”

He paused before his gaze hardened, “You want me to wear condoms.”

She bit her lower lip, before speaking as softly as possible, “For now.”

His hand clasped her hip, drawing her close. “I’ll be the one to put a baby in you anyway.”

She closed her eyes, keeping her face down—resting her forehead against his chest. She had to see how far she could push her luck.

“What else.” he asked.

She paused, “I want to keep.. us private.”

He grasped her chin, forcing her to look up. She didn’t miss the subtle disappointment in his expression.

“Why.”

She hesitated before speaking quietly, “I think.. keeping things secret is funner.”

A devious smirk split across his lips as he teased, “Such a naughty girl.”

Suddenly he nuzzled his face into the side of hers. She resisted the urge to freeze up.

“I wanna show you off though.” he whined.

“L-later.” she stuttered out, half heartedly.

His hands found the sides of her waist, easily fitting his large palms into the slight curve. He squeezed her sides before sighing as he reluctantly withdrew his face.

“Anythin’ else?” he asked, weary.

She was terrified of even bringing this up. But he was being.. somewhat understanding right now, so she wondered..

She shifted slightly in his hold, her hands coming to lay flat on his chest before her.

“No more.. hurting people.” her voice wavered.

“What do you mean.”

She swallowed, her eyes searching his before she spoke hesitantly, “T-the party.”

Noel. Jaemin. Arman.

His eyes seemed to narrow slightly, his voice somewhat cold, “That’s not up to me, kitten.”

She tensed, unsure what to make of his words but she was too scared to speak on it further. 

Suddenly his face was nudging hers, “Kiss me.” he ordered, gruffly.

She hesitantly tilted her face up and he took full advantage. His lips kissing hers intently—as if trying to take all of her in by the lips.

He tilted his head, letting his tongue slip past her lips to taste her. The action making her tense slightly but he easily took the lead. His hand went to the back of her head to hold her in place as he kissed her deep.

By the time he withdrew his lips, she was breathless.

His diamond-like eyes searched her face, “I can get you anything in the world you want. Just tell me and it’s yours.”

She didn’t doubt his quiet, confident words. She knew he had access to money like that. But how could she tell him that she wanted him to forget her.

His fingers caressed her hair, “You’re scared because it’s your first relationship, hmm?”

She merely nodded.

A small smile tugged at his glossy lips, “S’okay, it’s my first too.”

Everyone knew Gojo didn’t have to try when it came to girls. Ever since he moved here girls threw themselves at him. Maybe he hadn’t been in actual relationships but she was certain he’d fucked around enough for the both of them.

Besides his long-time fuck buddy, Katrina, liked to act like she was his ex.

She stepped away from him, her face red. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

His smile widened into a grin, his eyes glittering with amusement. “Jealous?”

Before she could look away, he caught her jaw–easily turning her face to look up at him as he said, “This is the only relationship that matters to me.”

He pulled her into a hug. His scent engulfing her, as did everything else of his huge stature. She closed her eyes, willing her body to stay calm and not cry. He hadn’t hurt her yet so she supposed she’d done well.

His hand ran over her hair as he murmured, “I’m gonna make you love me.”

Her eyes flashed open—her heart rate picking up. He sounded so calm, so definitive.. It was then that she realized getting rid of him was going to be a lot more dangerous than she thought.

a/n: wooooohoooo ty for reading this ish if u made it this far. the next part of this chapter still occurs on the same day which is y i didn't wanna make it a whole nother chapter but pls lemme kno ur thOTS or whatnot. ill link the next part of this chapter in this post once it's uploaded. also excuse any spelling/grammar mistakes bc i kinda skim edited this (oops) have a good dayyy ya'll

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[dizzybee03]

Something Sinful Happening on Sunday

A Beau “Cyclone” Simpson x OC (Ryan Reagan) story. #3 in the series

Warnings: slight smut (dry humping)

6 weeks, 42 days, 1008 hours, that's how much time had passed since Ryan and Beau’s first date. In that time the two had been together as much as they possibly could- between life as a police officer and Navy admiral that looked a little different for them than most couples.

 True to his word, Beau had been nothing but a gentleman and they had taken things slow and not rushed into having sex. Sure there had been lots of cuddling and making out like teenagers but there had also been many hours just spent talking until the wee hours of the morning.

Ryan’s work schedule was not normal and made it hard to plan normal dates since one week she may be off on Wednesday and Thursday while the next she may be off Friday and Saturday . Beau didn’t mind, he understood better than most what crazy schedules were like and was willing to meet up whenever Ryan was available. That meant the two met for lunch (almost everyday in fact) and a few evenings a week Beau drove to Ryan’s house to spend an hour or two with her after her shift. This week Beau had invited Ryan over on her Sunday off-he wanted to impress her with his culinary skills.

As Ryan pulled her 1970 black and gold El Camino into the driveway of Beau’s 2 story bungalow she felt the weight of the work week lift away. Work had been extra grueling this week and she was having a hard time shaking it. An evening with Beau was just what she needed though and she couldn't wait to get inside and be in his calming presence.

“Honey I’m home” Ryan said as she walked in the front door without knocking and closed it behind her.  “I’m in the kitchen '' Beau hollers in response. Ryan kicked her shoes off, placing them neatly under the bench in the entryway before heading towards the kitchen at the back of the house. Everything in Beau’s house had a place and Ryan tried to respect that when she was there.

“Smells heavenly in here” Ryan said, walking up behind Beau and wrapping her arms around his waist.  He turned around in her embrace kissing her softly on the lips before taking in her appearance. The circles under her eyes were dark and her small smile wasn’t quite as bright as it normally was when she said “try to ignore the fact that I look like a hot mess.  I had every intention of wearing something cute tonight but couldn’t find the energy to do more than throw my hair up and change into these old sweats.”

“Sweets you take my breath away no matter what you have on. Did you get your errands done this morning like you wanted?”

“No, not at all, I had every intention of getting up when my alarm went off and pretending to be a productive member of society but instead I slept until noon and then binged The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. I didn’t move off my couch until it was time to drag my lazy ass over here.”

“ I think you’re allowed to have a lazy day after the week you had. I know you're tired and stressed out.  Did you end up saying anything to Sgt Hollon about your concerns for Officer Roberts not being cut out for patrol?”

“I’m not sure she wanted to hear what I had to say but yeah I talked to her. I get that his dad is a big wig on the city council, but that shouldn’t matter when the kid continues to make big mistakes. I asked him twice last night if he had searched the suspect we were getting ready to transport to the jail. He told me twice that he had and yet when I searched the guy I found 2 crack rocks in the toe of his sock. Not to mention the fact that twice this week he failed to do an inspection of our squad car before our shift started….I’ve taught him to do this not only to CYA (Cover Your Ass) but for officer safety.  Luckily I didn’t trust that it had been done and went ahead to check the back seats. I’m glad I did too because someone had ditched a knife under the bench seat. It’s bordering on an officer safety issue. Not to mention the fact that he sucks at building rapport, can’t write a report to save his life and instead of de-escalating situations has a way of making them worse.  Last night  I thought about leaving my gear in the driveway and telling command to just come get it cause I quit.  Shit I’m sorry for just throwing that all at you.”

“Don’t apologize, that’s what I’m here for. Sometimes it helps to just get that stuff off your chest even if it just comes barreling out in a jumbled mess. ”Beau said while running his hands up and down Ryan's back.  I’m just sorry your week has been so stressful and that the department seems to be showing so much favoritism because this douchebag's dad is on the city council. Maybe…..”Beau started to say before being interrupted by Ryan’s mouth covering his own in a kiss that was meant to stop him from talking.

“I don’t really wanna talk about work anymore tonight” she said before kissing Beau again quickly.

He chuckled saying “what DO you wanna do then?”

“Well…..first I wanna eat whatever yummy goodness you’ve got in the oven and then I wanna cuddle up on the couch with you…….and maybe make out like horny teenagers”.

“It’s chicken parmigiana and garlic bread and you definitely make me feel like a horny teenager. I’ve taken more cold showers in the last month and a half than I care to admit” Beau said while fixing a plate of food and handing it to Ryan.

“I’d apologize but I’m really not sorry” Ryan said, smacking Beau’s ass before taking the food and sitting at the small table in the kitchen.  “How was golf with Solomon?” She asked.

“It was alright, like usual he kicked my ass. I’m honestly not sure why I keep agreeing to play with him. Sol wants to have you and I over for dinner with him and Muriel one night soon. I told him I’d talk with you and see what your next nights off looked like.”

The conversation continued to flow while they ate dinner and once the dinner mess had been cleaned up they settled in the living room. Beau turned the TV on changing it to the NFL RedZone channel saying “Chargers are playing the Steelers tonight, mind if we watch for a bit?”

“Nope, I don’t mind” the two spent the next half hour sitting side by side on Beau’s couch watching football. Ryan was absent-mindedly running her fingernails up and down Beau’s thigh. Twice Beau’s breath hitched as Ryan’s hand got dangerously high. Ryan shifted closer to Beau on the couch, his arm behind her back and his hand caressing the side of her breast. Silently Ryan turned and straddled Beau’s lap. Her hands went to his hair as she whispered “I’m gonna need you to kiss me.”

“I think I can handle that.” Beau said, his voice thick with lust. His hand that was  tangled in Ryan’s hair  pulled her head down so that their noses were touching, their lips seeking each other out in the most sensual kiss. It was as if their tongues were dancing the tango. The kiss was slow, but intense. Beau’s other hand was kneading Ryan’s firm ass. The sensation caused her to rock her hips back and forth. There was no denying how turned on they both were. Ryan could feel Beau’s impossibly hard erection underneath her as she continued to rock her clothed hips back and forth over Beau’s. Kissing down his chin and neck  Ryan moaned “God Beau I’m gonna cum.”

“Do it baby, you've got me close too” he said as the hand that had been on her ass came around and started palming her covered pussy. His thumb stroked her clit causing Ryan to rock her hips in a frenzied manner, Beau's own hips jerked up the faster that Ryan went bucking up one last time as he climaxed while Ryan leaned back slightly squeezing her covered breasts as she rode out her own high. Ryan slumped over Beau’s shoulder, tucking her head into the side of his neck chuckling. “What’s so funny?” Beau asked.

“Oh just the fact that it’s been long enough since I’ve had sex that you barely touched me and I came like it was my first time. Can you imagine how good it’s gonna be when we do this with our clothes off? God it’s almost sinful the way you make me feel.”

“Honey I think about it all the time. Now if you’ll excuse me I need to go clean myself up and change my pants because you aren’t the only one that came like it was your first time.” Beau said, rising up from the couch.

“Don’t take too long Admiral, the football game is almost over and then it’s my turn to pick a show.” Ryan said, pinching Beau’s ass as he walked off towards his bedroom. “Aye aye ma’am” he said, giving her a mock salute.

Ryan settled back on the couch chuckling to herself “we are such horny teenagers.”

[jedi-enthusiast]

Debunking the "The Jedi are Evil" Theory Made by The Film Theorists PT 8

Point 8 - Revisiting the Same Argument I Covered in Part 3

Matthew quote:

"The story of Anakin's recruitment also illustrates a larger point about how troubling the recruitment tactics of the Jedi really are. Aside from the obvious problems of taking very young kids and signing them up for decades-long obligations it'll be very difficult for them to opt out of in the future."

We're ignoring this part because I already covered this in part 3.

Matthew quote, continued:

"They're even dishonest in the way that they signed these kids up in the first place!"

...oh boy, I can't wait to hear this.

---

Matthew quote, continued:

"Going back that example of Anakin; when Qui-Gon is deciding whether or not to take him on as a recruit, one of the things he needs to do is collect a blood sample so they can measure his midichlorian count."

He then goes on to explain all of the red tape you have to go through in the real world in order to get a child's blood sample, then continues on:

"So does Qui-Gon ask his mom for a sample? Does he explain what he's doing to Anakin? Does he even sterelize the needle? Let's watch-" [cut to a clip in TPM of Qui-Gon telling Anakin he's testing his blood for infections] "-that's it. No permission slip, not even verbal consent, and on top of all of it he lies about the purpose of the test in the first place."

Firstly, taking a step back from in-universe talk for a second, obviously Qui-Gon doesn't sterilize the needle or start outlining HIPPA laws before he takes Anakin's blood. It's a movie, they're on a limited time table, they're not gonna waste a couple precious minutes that could be used for something else to do all that.

Now, back to the in-universe talk-

Shmi is the one that is pushing for Anakin to be brought to the Jedi Order and obviously Qui-Gon's gonna need to know a few things before he can just up and take Anakin to the Temple, so it wouldn't be a stretch to say that her consent was implied.

Anakin also doesn't fight or seem at all distressed or unwilling to have a blood sample be taken, so it would be a stretch to say that his consent was implied as well (especially considering that, when I get my blood taken, I'm never asked for my consent--I generally just cooperate and the phlebotomist takes my blood, and that's in a professional setting).

But that's not really how consent works, so I'll give Matthew that one. No, Qui-Gon doesn't ask for consent from anyone before taking Anakin's blood.

But I will defend him not telling Anakin why he's taking the blood, because Anakin clearly idolizes the Jedi and wants to be one--if Qui-Gon had told him that he was testing to see if he was Force-sensitive, Anakin would have gotten his hopes up. Which, if it turned out that he wasn't Force-sensitive, would have crushed him--so is it that much of a stretch to say that Qui-Gon wanted to wait to say anything just in case?

---

Matthew quote, continued:

"I guess you could try to argue that Anakin is literally living in slavery and so he and his mother are probably desperate to get out of the situation and maybe that makes it better, but no! You are so wrong! In fact, the idea that Qui-Gon is preying on people who have no rights and no way to advocate for themselves makes it that much worse!"

Again, Shmi is the one pushing for Anakin to be brought to the Order, not Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon isn't "preying" on anyone.

They ended up on Tatooine by accident, Shmi is the one that decided to take them in, and--once again--Shmi is the one that kept saying Qui-Gon needed to take Anakin back to the Temple with him!

It's not like Qui-Gon specifically sought out this poor family with the intention of inducting Anakin into the Order--all of it happened by complete accident while Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon, and Padme were trying to save Naboo from being invaded!

And again, the Jedi are extremely empathetic and they're just plain good people. If Shmi had said "you're not taking him to the Temple, leave him alone," then Qui-Gon would have listened!

The Jedi aren't the Sith, nor are they the Empire, stop assigning them traits that they don't fucking have!

---

Matthew quote, continued:

"You can even make a case that the Jedi barely think of their recruits as human! As even the venerable old Obi-Wan Kenobi, everyone's favorite Jedi, describes Anakin like this-" [cut to clip of Padawan Obi-Wan saying they've picked up another pathetic lifeform]

So...the entire Order obviously doesn't think of their recruits as human or people...because of one comment made by Obi-Wan who, in this case, seems to be pretty aggravated at their situation and is probably just snarking to blow off steam.

Yeah that holds up. /sarcasm

[cinamun]

Hi Cin!! I hope your day is going well so far!!

This is going to be long so I’m sorry in advance…

Okay so, I’m gonna start with saying I don’t like Bishop. I like him as a character in the sense that I like knowing how people think and why they do the things they do. Motives, ya know? So naturally his character intrigues me. BUT, I can’t stand the role he plays in this story and the way he treats others around him, especially Mercy. He is vile and abhorrent. That being said, what is he currently doing wrong? He could be trying to cover his ass while also weirdly caring about her, not in the sense of getting soft and mushy but in a way where what happens to her affects him because clearly he benefits from having her around even if that’s just so he can continue to manipulate her. Maybe he is just helping her so she doesn’t die. He doesn’t have to care about her extremely deeply to want to make sure she doesn’t die. Regardless of his intentions…she’s still breathing, he’s getting on her every single time she gets up, he’s making her eat, he told her to call her son, he said d she’s free to go as soon as she’s able to stand on her own but she can’t. She’d get back to her apartment and end up right back on that floor. Who else was showing up to check on her? She would’ve probably died on that floor. No one was coming any time soon. Except him. Could’ve just been right place, right time but still. It could be as simple as I’m around this person very frequently, they’re hurt, I’m going to fix it. Doesn’t mean he’s had a change of heart. He could just be simply taking care of her bc she’s severely injured and no one else is there and she’s being stubborn about it. Like Cin said, there’s no telling what kinds of nasty injuries him or his cell mates may have sustained while incarcerated. I’m sure he knows a thing or two about concussions. OR it could just be to cover his ass and not be a suspect or manipulate her into trusting him again. Either way…she’s alive, right? Because of him, right? And I’m only defending him bc SHE ATTEMPTED TO STAB HIM WITH A KITCHEN KNIFE WHILE HE WAS SLEEPING THUS GETTING FLUNG ACROSS THE ROOM TO PRESERVE HIS OWN LIFE. Prison instincts are a very real thing. In that particular situation this one time, he had a valid reason but used way too much strength and now she has a head serious head injury. It could have genuinely been an accident. You don’t have to care about someone to acknowledge that you severely injured them without meaning to and you feel obligated to take responsibility bc not only was it your fault but they’re not taking care of themselves and neither is anyone else. I will keep saying it….if he wanted her to die or didn’t care to some degree about her life, she would’ve been gone by now.

Now…I am fully aware that I could be loud and wrong and I will admit it if I am. We all know Bishop and we all know nothing is ever what it seems. I’m just going based off what we currently are seeing and how we got to this particular situation.

[silversiren1101]

To Our Children

[A little drabble between Regill and Jesyll, since I got the father-daughter bonding bug]

Jesyll listens intently as her father reads aloud the words on the page before them, nestled close to his chest where she sits on his lap, wrapped tight in a blanket. She has to listen hard; unlike the books Mama picks for story time, the ones Papa picks have no pictures. She can read some words on the page, but there's just too many for her to take in at once. She doesn't mind, though. The pictures form in her thoughts instead as she listens hard as she can, sometimes having to close her eyes to do so.

The trick is not falling asleep—which she has a feeling story time is supposed to be for. Lucky for her, Papa's stories keep her much too interested for that, and they continue in her dreams even after he does settle her into her bed afterward.

He doesn't use different voices like mama does, but she doesn't mind that either. Storytime with Mama is fun and makes them both laugh, and she likes to look at the pictures and ignore whatever the words say to try and tell her own stories, which Mama really likes. With Papa, though, she learns so many new words, and the stories make her think in a way the picture books don't. She need only tap his hand and ask what something means, which usually makes him smile a little bit as he explains. Bigger, stranger words are broken into many more smaller ones, but she understands them much better that way. When she reacts to parts of the story, he stops and asks her questions about what she thinks, and she likes that, too. It makes her feel like she's an adult, being listened to.

She likes both types of story-time. Asking her to pick her favorite would be like asking to pick between Mama and Papa themselves: impossible. She loves them both in different ways, just as they love her differently, too.

Tonight, Papa continues to read stories of a place called Lastwall, which doesn't exist anymore. He'd told her that it was why he was reading her stories from there, that it was important to know about it so that it wouldn't be forgotten. It disappeared only a few years ago—before she was born, but not long before that—so she doesn't understand how people could forget a whole place like that, but she doesn't fixate on that. She likes these stories. They make her sad but also hopeful, and make her want to run outside and pick up her sword (stick) and swing it around like the heroes on the pages and in her thoughts. She knows they're a lot like her parents and the rest of the knights in their castle, though they wear shiny silver armor instead of black; more like auntie Seelah. They fight to keep people safe, the ones like her that can't pick up a sword—only for so long as she stays little. She'll be like them too, when she can, with armor that covers her tail like Mama's does and a real sword of her own... or maybe a type of hammer like Mama and Papa.

For now, though, she listens hard as Papa reads to her. Her tail peeks out from the blanket to wrap around his arm, ready to squeeze if she has any questions. Like Mama's, the chill in the air makes her scales turn warm, unlike her skin which is just achy in the cold. Even in front of the fireplace like they are now, on the floor leaned against her bed, she'd been shivering—their castle was old and 'drafty', as Mama had called it—and so Papa bundled her up tight for story time tonight.

This one is about the orcs that fought the knights in Lastwall; about how they sided with the evil skeleton king and his undead armies. She listens hard, scenes of the battles playing out in her head painting a very clear picture until they reach the end of the chapter and then Papa tells her that things are very different today. She blinks questioningly, suddenly having no understanding at all of who had been right and wrong, as the book had made it obvious even to her little head. She knows he wouldn't lie to her though. He doesn't lie about things like this, even if the truth makes her sad or isn't easy to understand.

"But... they fought the good knights for a long, long time... and now they don't want to? Are they good now too?", she asks, looking up at him from where she's drawn up even closer to him as her eyes have gotten heavy. A yawn is stifled in his shirt after the question leaves her mouth.

Papa rumbles in that deep way that tickles her ear when she's leaned up against him like this. It's a noise she's come to understand is something like 'yes and no at the same time' when she asks questions like this—one that means he's going to ask her questions, too.

"It's easier to say they are no longer the enemy they once were. There is a lot of talking still to do between them and everyone else, to see if they will be 'good'", he answers, confirming her initial expectations. Yes and no.

She chews on her lips, little fangs biting into the oft-tenderized flesh. His answer only makes her have more questions. They normally do, and his silence after tells her he's waiting for them.

"They hurt a lot of the good guys though, didn't they? For the Whispery Ty...Ty..."—Tyrant, her father supplies—"Tyrant. They did for a long time... How can talking make things okay?"

How many times has she done something wrong only to be told that saying 'I'm sorry' is just the start of an apology? Mama and Papa both have taught her that you have to actually try and fix things, if you can. Just talking sounds like it won't fix anything.

"Hrm", he rumbles again. The approval in it makes her feel happy, like she's done something good. She always likes giving answers he likes too, even as much as both he and Mama say to speak what she thinks and likes most during moments like this. To her, it's best when she does both at once.

"You are right, Jess. They did fight for the Tyrant, but it's because it was for such a long time, and so long ago, that 'talking' may indeed make things right. It is not the same orcs now as it was hundreds of years ago, during the days of the Shining Crusade and Arnisant."

She nods in recognition of those names. The story of Arnisant has been her favorite from Lastwall thus far.

"Generations have come and gone since then, and these orcs have not fought for the Whispering Tyrant like their grandparents did. To treat them as if they had, it would be as if... my father's father had wronged someone, but you were held at fault, and made to make things right."

Her golden eyes go wide at that. Something stirs in her, bigger than her little body can quite contend with. Her tail tip rattles from where it's hanging wrapped around his arm, the little feathers at the tip rustling. She sits up a little straighter.

"But, that's not fair! I didn't do it!"

Papa nods, his own eyes—pale, pale yellow, long having lost the gold she has now way before her time—staying evenly narrowed as they hold hers. Something in them watches Jess in that way like he's expecting something, searching in a way. It's the look they get when he's asking her questions about the stories, about what she thinks about what's happening, on what's right and wrong or just is.

"No, you didn't, but I want you to think about something. What if he—my father's father—had raised his child with the way of thinking, or taught them rules, that caused that fighting or hurting during his time? Then, my father taught me the same, and I then taught it to you? It wouldn't be a 'bad' thing to you, now would it? It would be a good way of life in your mind, so, would you go against it all? Would you live completely differently than our family in this scenario has done for so long?"

She frowns. It's hard for her to think about, but what it does sound like to her is a trap. Was Papa really asking her if she would break the rules he taught her? If she would do the opposite of what she knew was good? On purpose? She does sometimes, but she wants to be good. It's just hard. She thinks then on what else he said: but what if doing what he and Mama said wasn't actually 'good', then? That doesn't make sense to her! They wouldn't do that! It hurts her head. She makes a little noise, a half-whine-half-grunt, as she thinks hard as she can, wanting to get it right.

That noise itself seems to be the answer.

"It's a difficult question, isn't it? The orcs of Belkzan today aren't the same ones that fought against The Shining Crusade, but they were raised by the ones that did. They were taught to live in the same way that led their parents and grandparents to fight, but they themselves have not fought in the same way, for the Whispering Tyrant."

Jess thinks she understands, but it's late and she's sleepy and her head is too heavy for this. Papa is looking at her like he expects another question though, and she doesn't want to disappoint. There's still more he wants her to know and learn from this.

"...Do you think they will be good? Will the talking help them?"

Papa's chin raises a little at her question. He looks pleased, and she's happy to see it, even tired and filled with too many jumbled, confused thoughts as she is.

"The talking won't, no. They must decide for themselves if they wish to change. The talking will only prove that they have."

She stifles yet another yawn. These questions have only made her realize how tired she is. It doesn't slip her notice though—"Papa, you didn't answer my question..."

He looks taken aback for a moment, before softening into a slight smile. He makes that airy, breathy noise where she or Mama would have laughed instead.

"I suppose I didn't." He shifts, letting go of the book to gently run his hand through the feathers behind one of her ears, which makes her giggle, albeit sleepily. "Now, do I think they will be different? I hope so; they would prove valuable allies now that Lastwall has fallen. And, given that some of their people already have, I do think there is a chance."

She perks up at that. It's not often that Papa is hopeful in this way. He answers most questions with the opposite, and sometimes it makes him and Mama get into a talk with really big words and ideas Jess can't keep up with... though she gets the sense they like talking in that way. It makes even Papa's eyes brighter.

"...But what if they don't?" Still, she has to ask. Only, a real yawn this time interrupts the tail end of her question. It's full and wide enough for her top fangs to catch on the outside of her lips as she closes her mouth.

Papa only shakes his head in response, though a little of his soft smiles touches his eyes.

"A question for next time, it seems. It's much better suited for more awake little girls."

Jess thinks to protest, but as Papa closes the book, something happens that pushes all that to the side. His left hand, having been holding the book open stiff for so long now, twitches. He makes short, pained grunt and shakes it, as if trying to knock loose whatever pained it, before squeezing it open and shut a few times.

A little needle pierces her chest, carrying with it a thread of pain of its own. She disentangles herself from the blanket and places one of her hands in his pained one just as he opens it again, finding it cold. It's not from the pure whiteness of his fingers, either (which she knows is not a good thing), but from the chill in the air even the fireplace can't quite beat. A little whine escapes from her closed lips as she looks up at him, not quite sure what to say or do, just a child upset to see their parent hurt.

The feeling of her hand in his makes him pause, before his fingers close slowly over her entire hand, so very gentle. His other crosses over her front, bringing his arm around to pull her into a full-body hug from above and behind as she feels his chin rest on the top of her head. All down her back, she feels him sigh a great and mighty sigh.

"I am fine, Jesyll. The cold does not agree with this scar, as you know."

She does know. How often has she run her little fingers up and down his hand and arm, tracing it from palm to shoulder because it was there and a thing to do? She's watched Mama take care of it when the cold comes, rubbing medicine into it so it doesn't hurt him anymore. She expects she'll smell it on him tomorrow, if it's hurting him tonight.

Papa has lots of scars. She's asked about the ones on his back, which made him and Mama look at each other before answering her.

'From the training I did to become strong. Strong enough to protect you and everyone else.'

"...Does getting strong always hurt?", she suddenly asks.

Papa goes stiff around her at the question before he relaxes into another hug. Shorter. Reassuring.

"Not always, though this scar is not from that. No, this one is from protecting your mother."

The answer strikes her. Mama? Needing protection?

"But Mama is stronger than you!", she gasps. "Why did she need to be protected?"

It gets a real chuckle from him this time, but Jesyll doesn't feel like laughing. The topic is much too worrying for her.

"She is stronger, but not always. For those times she isn't, I will do anything to keep her safe, just as I will you."

She whines at that. She knows scars are from moments of pain, far more than the little scrapes and cuts she gets from running around and playing. The thought of him getting even more of them because of her makes tears prickle at the corners of her tired eyes.

"...I don't want you getting hurt, Papa..."

He hums. The feel of it all around her makes her feel as warm and safe as protected as he'd said he would. Her little hand is squeezed in his."

"You don't have much choice in the matter, wyrmling. That's what good parents do, just as their good little children go to bed at a reasonable hour."

[missingcarrion]

carrion // ch2 human

uh oh we meet a new friend!!! also future chapters will be longer im just working out a groove

trigger warning: sexual harassment, weird sexual comments

taglist: @tapioca-milktea1978

masterlist

-

There is something fascinating about the way robotic arms whir as they move, crafting together a piece of something that will one day simply be you. Shepherd watches them piece his future together – a body, his and his alone. And Hannah is there too, watching with keen interest as they make him their new Adonis (she told him that forgotten story the previous night and he’s fascinated by the idea of myths and gods.)

There’s a restlessness to this, a fear that he will lose what little he has of himself, but Hannah has promised to help. She… she promised.

“Lookin’ good, Shepherd.” One says, and makes a pointer remark at the more…. Masculine parts of his body that the Institute regarded as necessary, “you’ll have women jumpin’ all over you. You’ll have to learn how to use it. I know someone who can help.”

If ever it was possible to be repulsed as a living computer, this would be the time. But he ignores the disgust, and the discomfort, and instead tries not to think too hard about what curses may befall him now.

Hannah sends One a glare, however, seemingly not as docile as he has been. After all, it is his purpose to serve. Maybe it’s all just a test of sorts?

“Ignore him, Shepherd. He’s just being gross,” Hannah looks at One like she’s going to scold him for what he’s said. But she bites her tongue and says little else.

Shepherd watches her with mild intrigue. He ought to ask her later, but his attention is drawn back to the synthetic body that a team of scientists and engineers works on. The body is big, like One had said it would be, and it’s a bit bulky. Like they’ve engineered the ability to fight into this body without even asking if the inhabitant wants to fight.

Though .. . The body is exceptionally handsome. With an aquiline nose and long hair. None of it is real, but… the idea of being so close to being human sparks something in him, it awakens something he wasn’t sure had been there before.

“I am eager for my placement.” He says, although he struggles to contain his true excitement. “When do they expect to do the transfer?”

I am sick and tired of travelling through wire, he thinks, bitterly before regret takes over. The Institute knows what they are doing. It’s not in his place to judge or fault them. They must have a plan.

“Eh, if the body is completed tonight, you’ll be transferred sometime Friday.” One says, although he seems far too interested. Far too curious for his own good. “They’ll change up your room and give you a bed to go into sleep mode.”

Hannah’s eyes flick over to him briefly, like she’s sensing something sinister in his tone. One cannot be trusted, not now, not with the freedoms Shepherd’s being given by the Institute.

“I am sure I will not find sleep mode useful,” Shepherd replies, wary of One’s intentions, “but I am glad all the same. I have decided I would also like to see the Archives. I cannot gain access to them as I am now, but I should like to see the information it holds.”

“We can arrange that,” Hannah chirps, “you’ll like the Archives. It’s basically a giant library.”

“’You’ll like it’? Minsheng, he’s a fucking robot,” One snorts, “he doesn’t think. The only thing he’ll be doing is curing some housewife’s boredom and keeping Institute defectors in line. Nothing else. He’s not a puppy you get to keep.”

“And one can argue he’s not a plaything either,” Hannah retorts, arms crossed over her chest.

But a completely different voice cuts through their conversation, scathing and annoyed, “that is enough you two. Your bickering is distracting. Shepherd is a fascinating case. He may very well grow beyond whatever we have boxed him in. You both will do well to remember your places in this project.”

Shepherd looks towards the speaker, a tall, frightening man, with his entire body covered by robes, with his head wrapped. There, the cloth of the robes are curled into makeshift horns. He is the eccentric scientist behind many of the projects at the Institute – he’s not employed by them, either, and refuses every attempt to be hired by them. Oddly enough, Shepherd sees nothing when he scans the Doctor. It’s like he doesn’t exist.

Hannah seems visibly different when this man appears, almost like a cross between fear and admiration. “Of course, Aasimar. I didn’t mean to offend. I’m sure you’re equally fascinated by this opportunity.”

Aasimar, as he is called, hums, his eyes, pure white with his pupils lined in an intimidating gold. He is one of them, one of the mutants, although, was he ever really human to begin with?

“And what of you, One? Are you going to behave?” His voice is sultry, tantalizing and terrifying all at the same time. “Our friend Shepherd may be a tool now, but soon enough the power in our hands will be in his. Do be kind.”

One hisses, but his face scrunches up into severe discomfort. He mutters something under his breath before he backs away.

“Fantastic, now that he’s gone,” Aasimar claps his hands, delighted, and returns his gaze to the synthetic body, “we can finally have some peace and quiet. A rather annoying fellow he is, hm? Don’t worry, he’ll only sulk in a corner somewhere.”

Hannah snorts, but she’s more timid than she had been. “Shepherd, this is Aasimar, a leading scientist and doctor in the city. He’s the top in his field – which changes on a whim, but still. He’s pretty cool.”

The odd man hums thoughtfully, “keep an eye on your new friend, Minsheng. It is in his best interest that when he gets his body, he has a friend in his corner. I foresee terrible things. Very troubling things.”

“Can you see the future?” Shepherd asks.

“Secrets, secrets,” Aasimar taps his temple, smiling, “anyway, I shall be going now. Much to do, much to work on. Maybe once you’ve been transferred into your body, Shepherd, you might stop by.”

“You called me a tool. Why would I visit you?” He asks, and it earns a snort from the man.

“We are all tools, Shepherd. Remember that. We are like cogs in a machine, different components to the larger system,” Aasimar waves his hands to emphasize his point. “What matters is what we do with ourselves. Do we break the machine? Or do we allow the machine to continue? Think about it, and find me when you’ve decided.”

Shepherd watches Aasimar leave, and watches as Hannah visibly relaxes and heaves a sigh of relief.

“I never thought he’d leave,” she murmurs, lips pursed, “he’s not the type of person you want to upset, but when he likes you, he’s a fantastic friend. He’s the keeper of the Archives at this point – he’s always in there, reading, tinkering. I don’t know what he does. But he’s been a key part in making your body.”

“I would like to know more about him.” He says, and his tone trails off as he’s forcefully sent back to his lonely, quiet room.

[silver-rings-and-rabbits]

Open Heart 2 - Chapter 17

Do No Harm

The rest of the week passed steadily and a strange excitement bubbled inside Matthew. He didn’t know why; they weren’t going for fun, and there was every chance Jackie’s plan wouldn’t work. Eventually he put it down to the simple fun of travel: he had never been to Vegas before after all.

On Friday evening, Kyra, Keiki and Bryce turned up at the apartment.

“Hey you!” Kyra shrieked as soon as Matthew opened the door. She almost bowled him over in a hug. “How dare you talk me into this surgery and then get so poisoned that it’s too dangerous for you to come visit afterwards?!”

“I’m sorry!” Matthew groaned, hugging Kyra tightly. “I’m so glad to see you.”

“I’m at my parents for now but I’m still having a lot of hospital check-ups. Surely it’s safe for you to come see me now?”

“I’m sure I can.”

Kyra won over Keiki as easily as she had Matthew, particularly with stories of drunken Bryce and intern Bryce. By the time the rest of the gang was ready to leave for the airport, they had commandeered the entire sofa and seemed to have no intention of moving from it until Sunday night.

The generosity of Panacea Labs apparently covered hotel rooms but not flights, and Matthew had to patiently explain to the grumpy man in front of him that he wasn’t purposely kicking his seat, his legs were too long to comfortably fit into the space between the cheap economy seats. He got little sympathy and had to suffer in silence throughout the flight, hoping his book would be enough to distract him.

Sienna and Aurora were also sat in his row. Sienna seemed down.

“Mitch quit this afternoon,” she explained in a low voice.

“Is that much of a surprise? He never really struck me as competent.”

“No, but…I feel like maybe it’s partly my fault. I spent half the year making excuses and then it became too much and I blew up. If I had handled myself better—”

“Sienna, don’t blame yourself,” Aurora said. “You’ve been through so much crap lately, you didn’t blow up just because of Mitch’s attitude.”

“How has it been since you told him off?” Matthew asked. “Did he take you seriously?”

“He did, finally, but he didn’t think. Jackie told me that Gary always knew where to go after he was done with a patient, but I had to constantly tell Mitch to go down to the ER, or check for new cases coming in. I couldn’t figure out if he was afraid of doing things wrong or still being purposely incompetent.”

Matthew and Aurora glanced at each other.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the latter,” Matthew said.

“Agreed.”

Sienna sank down in her seat.

“I just don’t really know what to do anymore,” she said. “After I blew up at Mitch, Zaid decided to reassign some of my cases…he thought I was stressed and overworked, and still affected from the attack. He wasn’t wrong but now I don’t know how to fill out the rest of my time. I’ll just think about Danny, which won’t help anyone.”

“Elijah does a bit of research outside of his work,” Matthew said. “Maybe you could do something like that too, just to give you some focus that’s not direct cases.”

“It doesn’t have to be forever either,” Aurora said.

“I guess.”

Sienna rested her head on Aurora’s shoulder companionably.

All thoughts of work were forgotten when they touched down in Vegas and caught their first sight of the strip. Neon lights as far as the eye could see, life-size replicas of world landmarks towering over them. New York City might have been the city that never sleeps but Matthew was sure the title ought to be re-crowned. He felt like a dork, gazing open-mouthed at the lights that surrounded him but it was impossible to look away.

“Someone help me,” Bryce grinned. “I think I burned my eyes looking at Excalibur.”

“Follow me, Lancelot,” Aurora laughed.

They were staying in an extremely fancy hotel: just the reception area was swathed in marble floors and gilded statues. The crystal chandelier was most definitely real crystal and gold. When Jackie gave her name at the desk, the receptionist gave an almost crawly smile. Jackie seemed to cringe and swiftly led the group to the elevators – which were probably bigger than their apartment’s bathroom – and they flew up to the top floor and into the penthouse.

“Holy crap!”

They had walked into a sweeping room with floor-to-ceiling windows, remote controlled spotlights in the ceiling, several plush sofas that looked as comfortable as a bed, plasma TVs in the wall facing a fully-stocked minibar.

“Check out this bath!” Sienna squealed. Matthew looked into a marble bathroom to find a big circular tub, mounted on several steps, big enough for Sienna to lie flat in.

“Want me to run you a jacuzzi?” Matthew said, looming menacingly over the buttons.

“Not yet!” Sienna scrambled out the tub, giggling.

“Just remember this was paid for with blood money,” Jackie warned as she flicked through a menu. “On that note, who wants to help me rob Panacea with room service?”

Matthew couldn’t help smirking: Ethan had had a similar philosophy last year, and Jackie would be sick if he told her that.

As Jackie put in a call to the front desk for a Panacea-funded feast, Matthew snuck into one of the bedrooms and sprawled out on the king-sized four poster bed, marvelling at the silk sheets and velvet throws, then took out his phone to call Rafael.

“Matthew!” He sounded happy. “How’s the city of lights?”

“Pretty sure that’s Paris, not Vegas.”

“There is an Eiffel Tower there.”

Matthew moved to the window where he could see the Eiffel Tower replica glowing against the night sky.

“Fair point. I’ll give it to you.”

Raf chuckled.

“It’s good to hear your voice. I was getting a little jealous thinking of you guys hitting the town without me.”

“I know. I wish you could have come with us.”

“Me too, but I’ve got a super-heavy physical therapy schedule and Dr Mirani doesn’t want me travelling far at the moment.”

“I know, I know.” Matthew didn’t want Raf to get caught up in what he was missing out on. “So, what are you up to now?”

“Right now I’m at Vovó’s for family dinner!” His voice perked right up. “You should smell the moqueca she has on the stove…”

Matthew could picture the scene: Juliana’s bright kitchen, Rafael probably trying to help out and being told to relax, his parents gently teasing each other.

“That sounds amazing. Remind me to invite myself over again soon.”

“That won’t be hard.”

Someone knocked on the door of the bedroom, and he heard Sienna’s voice asking if he was OK.

“I should probably get back,” he said, reluctantly. “Heist plans to make and all that…”

“Go, have fun! And…get into some trouble, OK? For the two of us.”

“I will,” Matthew smiled. “Say hello to your family for me. And the next time I’m in Vegas, I fully expect you to be here with me.”

“Actually I have good news on that front: I could be up for some travel in a few months, if I keep up with my recovery schedule.”

“That’s great, Raf!”

Matthew felt comforted as they exchanged goodbyes and hung up. He had been a little concerned with what Raf would think of the plan, but he had been encouraging, and Matthew was glad Raf was having fun back home.

As they ate dinner – a variety of world foods that they could all pick and share – they put their plan together. The next day would be the main conference which Jackie, Aurora, Sienna and Elijah would attend. Matthew was off the hook as he and Nash still hated each other. He was just going to make the most of the luxury penthouse. Bryce had volunteered to keep Matthew company, though he would probably take another stroll down the strip. Saturday evening would be the big one for all of them. The execs would be drinking and gambling and this was when Jackie hoped their tongues would be loose enough to reveal a few dirty secrets.

Matthew slept in on Saturday morning and soaked in the jacuzzi for a couple of hours. He was lounging on the couch in a fluffy bathrobe when Bryce came back from his explore.

“Check out what I bought for Keiki!”

He reached into a shopping bag and pulled out a little model of Elvis Presly. When the button was pressed, Elvis sang a few bars of ‘Viva Las Vegas’ and wiggled his hips.

“Just what she’s always wanted,” Matthew laughed. “Maybe I should get one for Raf.”

“Do it and they can have a dance-off.” Bryce flopped onto the couch beside Matthew and took some chocolate out of the shopping bag to share.

“How are you doing, anyway?” Matthew asked. “I couldn’t believe that your parents had come into the hospital.”

“Yeah,” Bryce said, heavily. “That was…something. But people have actually been quite nice about it, which I didn’t expect. And people talking about me in general is nothing new.” He acted cocky, smoothing his hair back, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes. “But I got so angry when I first saw them, even though it’s been years. It…scared me,” he admitted. “I used to punch the wall after I argued with my parents, and at the time I told myself it was OK because it wasn’t a person. But that’s hardly a healthy reaction. Keiki and I argue, what if I get angry with her?”

Matthew rubbed his shoulder. “I think the fact that you’re worried about it is a good sign,” he said. “You’ve been making it work with Keiki for a while now. But the anger caused by your parents will be different than arguing with your sister. Much less extreme.”

“I suppose,” Bryce nodded. “But…there’s a lot to think about at the moment….Stuff to work out…Things to decide.”

Matthew waited, but Bryce didn’t elaborate.

“Are you going to tell me about that…?”

“Maybe later.” Bryce casually popped a chocolate into his mouth. “But not today. Today we help Jackie.”

“If you say so,” Matthew said. “But I’m here for you.”

“You’re a doctor, not a psychologist. But thanks.” Bryce ruffled Matthew’s hair, then paused, sniffing the air. “Dude…did you use rose bubble bath or something?”

“It was so foamy!”

****

That night, the suite was a flurry of activity as everyone got dressed up for the evening. Matthew kept it very simple in a black silk shirt. Elijah was in a maroon tux, and Bryce was in a navy tux with a matching flower print shirt.

“Only you could wear flower print and pull it off,” Jackie sighed, as she fixed a pair of sparkly earrings to her ears. She looked particularly striking in a short, tight sparkly blue halter-necked dress and black heels, though her hair was in its usual bun. Sienna had offered to style it differently, but Jackie had brushed her off. Whatever the morning conference had been about, she had come back with fire in her eyes and had been on edge all afternoon. Meanwhile, Aurora wore the red dress she had worn to her school reunion, and Sienna was in a glittering black cocktail dress, curling her hair for the occasion.

Walking into the casino was quite the assault on the senses. Music blared, slot machines squealed and buzzed, dealers called for bets, gamblers cheered in delight or howled in anguish. Lights flashed in every corner and cocktail waitresses strutted round offering shots…for a small fee, of course.

“Alright heist crew,” Elijah said, rubbing his hands together. “Where do we start?”

“I can see Nash talking to someone at the poker tables,” Matthew said.

“Let’s start there. But we need to be subtle,” Jackie said. “I say we go over in small groups to eavesdrop. Except Matthew, make sure you stay out of Nash’s sight.”

Bryce and Jackie strolled over to the poker tables. Elijah and Sienna went in that general direction, pretending to look around. Matthew hid at a slot machine. Aurora did the same, but positioned closer to Nash’s table.

“I’ve been hearing Solomon Health had a very good year.” Matthew could just make out Declan’s voice. “And I’ve been hearing rumours about vertical integration?”

“You using that machine or what?” someone behind Matthew said rudely. He jumped, then glared as he loaded a quarter into the machine and pulled the lever…only for the machine to start spinning and line up three golden sevens! The entire machine lit up and squealed with sirens as coins started rattling out, into his cup and onto the ground. The rude person looked scandalised.

“What the hell?!” Aurora gasped.

“It was a mistake,” Matthew groaned as Nash started craning his neck looking for the jackpot winner.

“Mr Nash! Good to see you!” Aurora called as she hurried over to Declan. He looked surprised, but pleased.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here, Dr Emery!”

“Well, my aunt couldn’t make it so she asked if I would go and represent the family.”

“And you work at Mass Kenmore now, I believe. Interesting…”

As Aurora subtly turned Nash away from the slot machines, Matthew hastily grabbed his cup and dashed away. There were still a ton of coins on the floor but he didn’t care; the rude gambler could have those.

Bryce and Jackie caught up with him as he was paying in his winnings: he had managed to catch a few thousand.

“How could you win a slot machine on the first go?” Bryce said. “You’re so jammy.”

“Never mind that, did you find out anything?”

“I heard something about Solomon Health and vertical integration,” Matthew said, as the other three caught up with them.

“I’ve heard about that,” Elijah said. “Vertical integration is when a company owns its own supply chain. Basically, Solomon Health are trying to create a monopoly.”

“I spoke with one of the Solomon reps and he kept saying there were ‘big plans’ for Mass Kenmore too,” Aurora said, darkly.

Jackie gritted her teeth.

“It doesn’t help us deal with Panacea. We need to try again.”

“Declan’s still at the poker table,” Sienna said. “This woman came to join him just before we came to join you, but he seems to know her well.”

The group peered over at the poker tables. A tall woman in a bespoke suit and black hair in a high ponytail sipped from a champagne flute and laughed at what Nash said.

“That’s Panacea’s CEO, Charlotte St Yves!” Jackie gasped. As she spoke, Charlotte downed the rest of her champagne and walked to the stairs that led to the sportsbook. She wobbled a little as she went.

“Charlotte seems to have had a few…I bet we could get her to talk. And taking down the CEO would be major,” Elijah said.

Jackie frowned.

“I don’t know…I still think it’s worth following Nash.”

“How about you and I stick with Nash, the others can follow Charlotte,” Bryce said. “Text us when you’re ready to meet up,” he added to the group.

The elevator doors opened to a modern sports lounge filled with flatscreen TVs, leather recliners and loungers.

“Pretend we belong,” Aurora reminded everyone as they stepped out. Charlotte was in a recliner, swirling clear liquid in a glass tumbler. Elijah started rolling towards the TV closest to her and the others followed.

“Yesss, Nick Lawson’s playing tonight. We gotta bet on him,” he said. Matthew and the girls settled on the loungers.

“This sportsbook is fancy,” Sienna noted. “So, where do we place our bets?”

“There’s a screen on the arm of the lounger,” Charlotte said, looking over at them.

Perfect Matthew thought as he gave Charlotte a smile.

“Thanks. We’re clearly not from around here.”

“What brings you to Vegas?”

“Er…”

“We were at high school together,” Aurora said. “Every year we take a trip to a different city.”

“Nice! Where are you from originally?”

“Boston.”

“I know Boston quite well,” Charlotte smirked. Matthew and Aurora shared a glance; of course she did.

“Do you travel a lot?” Sienna asked.

“A fair amount. I have a lot of conferences with work.”

“What is it that you do?”

“I work with Panacea Labs. We provide a lot of pharmaceuticals.”

They chatted a little longer about the beginnings of Panacea – Charlotte was drunk enough to let slip that she had always looked for tax loopholes, even in the early days – and then back to the basketball, which had just reached half time.

“So,” Charlotte said, slurring her words. “Who’s up for a bet? Sports games like this are unpredictable. Every game means lives and futures hang in the balance.”

“Sounds ominous,” Matthew muttered to Sienna. “Do you think that’s the drink talking?”

“It’s hard to tell either way,” Sienna whispered back.

Charlotte clicked her fingers at the server for a refill as Matthew watched a reporter interviewing a sweaty player. He seemed confident, almost overly so.

“That’s Antonia Morrison. He’s an absolute monster. The opposition will need a lot of luck getting past him.”

“So you think he’s the one?” Charlotte’s finger hovered over her betting screen. “The bookmakers have put an over-under on him of 15.5 points in the second half.”

Matthew continued watching the TV as Morrison wrapped up his interview, but as he stretched, he winced: a classic sign of hip-flexor strain. Elijah had gone pensive. He seemed to be thinking the same thing.

“You know what? I think Morrison will score under fifteen points.”

Charlotte giggled and her well-manicured hands tapped on her screen.

“Did you just bet a hundred grand?!” Matthew yelped.

“Exciting, isn’t it? Probably a teensy bit more than what you’re used to.”

The group watched the screens with baited breath. Matthew could feel himself sweating…and Morrison fell short of fifteen points before the final buzzer.

“We did it!” Sienna squealed. “I mean…he didn’t do it…but she did it!”

Matthew felt a little dizzy and he wondered if he’d been breathing properly at all for that second half.

“Well played!” Charlotte crowed, reaching over to shake his hand. “This calls for a celebration. I have a VIP lounge booked at the MGM Grand. Find me there and I’ll buy a bottle of Chateau d’Yquem.

“We’ll be there!” Matthew said as Charlotte staggered away. He could hardly believe his luck. Maybe he should place a bet for himself.

“Come on,” Aurora said. “We need to get Jackie and Bryce.”

Jackie was thrilled with their success. She had a recording of Nash saying they purposely extended testing periods and withheld breakthroughs from the public eye because they knew it would lose the money from the long-term treatment…but Nash was nothing compared to a confession from the CEO.

The MGM Grand was a huge nightclub with a long line of people waiting to get in. They didn’t recognise any Panacea honchos in the line…clearly they had queue-jumping privileges.

“We need to get past the bouncer,” Jackie scowled. “Bryce, flirt with him until he lets us in.”

“What?” Bryce spluttered. “What if he’s not into dudes?”

“Since when has that stopped you?” Sienna laughed.

Bryce rolled his eyes, but put on a charming smile and strutted to the bouncer who watched him warily. The group waited as Bryce ran his hand up the bouncers arm…the bouncer rolled his eyes and waved him in. Everyone else charged in after him.

“What did you say?”

“Well, I used my medical training to be very specific about which body parts of our anatomies would fit together…and he let me in on the grounds that I would never speak to him again.”

The group laughed. Matthew looked at Jackie, expecting a witty remark, but she was frowning and her eyes were focused straight ahead where Nash and Charlotte were in the VIP lounge.

“Jackie? You OK?”

“Come help me get my phone ready. You guys wait here.” Jackie grabbed Matthew by the front of his shirt and dragged him towards a bathroom.

“Wait, I can’t go in there!”

“It’s fine, just pretend we’re hooking up.”

A few women were fixing their make-up in the mirror. They jumped when Matthew was dragged in, then burst into giggles when he and Jackie crammed into a stall and locked it behind them.

“You owe me for this.”

“I’ll owe you for a lifetime.” Jackie’s hands trembled as she swiped at her phone, her brow furrowed in fury. “I got an app that filters out background noise. I’ll set it up and we’ll nail those bastards to the wall.”

She accidentally tapped out the app and cursed loudly. Matthew gently took the phone from her to continue the set-up. Jackie leaned against the wall, her hands clenched into fists.

“We need to find something, Matthew. I need Nash to suffer.”

“You’re not the only one who wants that.”

“No. I need it. Nash is out there, right now, making deals that will literally kill people as he drinks champagne. He deserves to lose everything.”

“You’re getting a bit…intense,” Matthew said in alarm. “Why do you want this so bad?”

Jackie made a strangled noise as she kicked at the wall. Matthew’s stomach squeezed when he saw the tears in her eyes when she faced him.

“This is the only way I know how to make it right. I let them buy me off and I hate myself for it. Nash is a slime bag but I should have done better. I was the one who was too weak. And it’s going to carry on…Nash will make his shady deals and there’ll be plenty of desperate doctors willing to help in exchange for extra cash.” She hastily dabbed her thumb under her eyes. “Sorry…I’ve barely slept over this.”

“Jackie, this isn’t all on you…”

“No. If I can do something to stop it…it won’t solve the whole problem but it’s a start. I’m sick of Big Pharma.”

Matthew’s heart broke for her. He handed the phone back, ready to record.

“Let’s go take them down.”

They found their friends at the edge of the dancefloor and huddled together. Jackie thrust the phone into Matthew’s hands, agitated.

“You need to do it,” she said. “I’m too…”

She couldn’t finish her sentence but she didn’t need to. Matthew squeezed her hand as he took the phone.

“Maybe it’s best if one of us goes anyway,” Elijah said. “You were the one who made the bet, Matthew. If she asks, just say we had to stop somewhere but we’re on our way.”

“We’ll wait for you on the rooftop terrace,” Bryce added.

He went with Aurora and Jackie, whilst Elijah and Sienna waited in the corner until Nash drained his glass and stood up. Almost as soon as he was in the main area of the club, Elijah rolled into him and Sienna started waylaying him about the Panacea perks program. Matthew ducked under the VIP rope.

“There you are!” Charlotte was trashed. “Where are your friends?”

“They wanted to stay at the casino a bit longer but they’re on their way,” Matthew said as Charlotte poured him a generous glass of champagne. “I still can’t believe how easily you placed a hundred thousand dollar bet…”

“I forgot how shocking the numbers can seem to the lower classes but it’s child’s play, really.”

Matthew ignored the jab. Charlotte had to keep talking.

“Humans are designed to thrive on adrenaline. The greater the risk, the greater the pay-off.” She smirked. “C’mon, you must get a rush from something.”

“Well…I once impersonated a doctor.”

“How?”

“I was at the mall and someone started choking. They called for a doctor but no one stood…so I ran up and did the Heimlich, like they do on TV.” He shrugged it off. “It worked. The guy woke up. And the ambulance crew asked me which hospital I worked at and thanked me for my service.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie. Matthew had saved someone from choking in a mall food court during his med school years, but he had made it very clear he was only a student. The people hadn’t cared; they wanted their friend to be OK, and Matthew was the closest thing to a doctor they could get.

“Unbelievable. You got lucky,” Charlotte said. “When I was your age, I snuck into the lion exhibit at Atlanta Zoo.”

“You snuck into the…?”

“They’re just big kitties at the end of the day!”

They swapped a few more stories, but just as Matthew worried he was running out of life experiences to base his lies on, Charlotte took a big gulp of champagne.

“You want risks? I increased my company’s quarterly profits by sixty percent by inflating the wholesale prices of our most used drugs!”

Matthew spluttered. Charlotte had just confessed to text book medicare fraud.

“How would that even work?”

“Easy. Officially price the product at ten times retail. Medicare pays us the full amount for it and we just happen to offer a ninety percent wholesale discount to other buyers.” She sat back, happily. “My head’s going to be sore in the morning,” she giggled.

Matthew’s head was spinning. He had to get away from Charlotte.

“Well, I don’t think I can top that so hats off to you.” He forced a big grin while feeling like he might throw up. “Be right back, I gotta use the bathroom.”

Charlotte waved him off as Matthew ducked into the crowd and bolted for the stairs. The cool night air shocked him for a second before his friends gathered round him. The initial reaction was the same disgust he had felt, but then it turned celebratory when they realised it was perfect.

“I can’t believe it! You did it!” Jackie gasped, pulling him into a surprise huge hug. “Gimme the phone, I’ll take it from here.”

“Charlotte could go to jail for this,” Aurora said, as Jackie trimmed down the recording to just the admission. “Can you believe we pulled it off?”

“I might have known!” said a smarmy voice. Declan Nash had found them, just as Elijah and Sienna appeared from the elevator, aghast.

“I got suspicious when those two started hounding me about the perks program. Amateurs.” He looked at them with disdain before turning to Jackie. “Now, give me that phone.”

Jackie stepped forward to face Nash, holding up the phone showing the audio ready to send.

“I have a friend at the New York Times who was very interested to hear the goings-on in Panacea. You make one more move and I hit send.”

Nash went pale.

“W-What do you want? Money? We can talk deal,” He spluttered. “I could get you a consultant job at Panacea alongside your doctor job if you want!”

“You think this is about money?” Matthew snapped. Money seemed to have been the cause of most of his problems this year and he had had enough. From constantly asking how much patients could pay Edenbrook, all the way back to his father covering his sisters medical bills, and then screwing over Holly during the divorce. Had the world always been this way, or had he just now noticed? “You think we did this for a pay out? Not everyone is as disgustingly greedy as you are. The only thing we want is to get Panacea out of Edenbrook and Kenmore for good.”

“I can make that happen too!” Nash said, but then he paused. “Although…you know if you send that, you won’t come out of this clean.”

“What?”

“A story this big would lead to investigations. Every single doctor who took payments from Panacea Labs…and how many payments they took.”

He raised an eyebrow, pointedly. Matthew expected Jackie to flip Nash off and send the file, but she had frozen in place.

“So it was a couple of consultations. Big deal!” Sienna protested, but Nash laughed nastily. He still had cards to play.

“Your friends don’t know, do they? Well, kids, Jackie here was one of the highest perk recipients at the hospital.” He said the words with relish, and crossed his arms over his chest with a smirk, thinking he had won. Jackie couldn’t look anyone in the eye. She had lied to them.

“So that’s why they gave you the penthouse,” Elijah finally said into the shocked silence.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Sienna asked.

Tears welled in Jackie’s eyes.

“Because I was ashamed. I hate myself for all of it. I wanted to tell you…but I couldn’t get the words out.”

The conversation with Jackie in the bathroom stall suddenly made more sense.

“No patient or doctor would trust you again after this. You’d be out of a job,” Nash said, coldly. He held out his hand. “Just give me the phone so I can delete the message. I’ll move Panacea out of your hospitals. You keep your job. No harm done.”

Jackie tensed…then shook her head, and glared at Nash with cold fury.

“No. There was harm done, and you need to pay for it. And so do I.”

She hit send…and they all heard the swoop of the confirmation.

“NO!” Nash roared. For a moment he looked like he wanted nothing more than to wrap his hands around Jackie’s neck and squeeze. Matthew readied himself to fight him off, but then Nash whirled around and tore down the stairs. Matthew and Aurora raced after him, reaching the club in time to hear Charlotte’s furious screech, joined by other execs as Nash rounded them up. As they neared the door, Charlotte finally spotted Matthew.

“You little shit!” She spat. “How could you do this to me?”

“To you? You’re defrauding millions of people!”

“I think you’ll have to start placing slightly smaller bets, Charlotte,” Aurora grinned, high-fiving Matthew which made Charlotte even angrier but there was no time to rip them to shreds now.

Despite the fact the club was still raving, the roof terrace felt peaceful when they returned. Jackie was slumped on a bench with the others gathered round her.

“You didn’t have to sacrifice your career for this,” Sienna said as she sat beside Jackie and put an arm around her. “I’m really proud of you.”

“Me too,” Aurora said, going to Jackie’s other side. “You’re a brave, strong woman, Jackie.”

“What you did took a lot of guts.”

“You did good, nose-wiper.”

“I’m proud of you, too.”

Jackie glanced round at her friends, and finally managed a tired smile.

“Thanks guys.”

The six of them sat in peaceful silence in the cool night breeze. They seemed to have almost forgotten where they were until a heavy bass started thumping beneath them.

“So…” Elijah said. “Do we go home right now and wait for the headlines to hit, or do we make the most of an all-expenses-paid trip to Vegas that features a recently-vacated VIP lounge?”

The group started to laugh, then excitement grew again as they piled into the elevator and went back down to the club floor, where they wasted no time filling the VIP lounge and helping themselves to he abandoned champagne. It didn’t take long for Matthew’s head to spin and when he started feeling a deep love and gratitude for his friends, he grabbed a half-drunk bottle and stumbled to the edge of the lounge.

“Can I interest anyone in a drink?” he announced, to a rousing cheer. Clubgoers surged forward, and he poured champagne directly into their open mouths, feeling like a god.

Sienna and Bryce were dancing wildly. Elijah and Aurora were doing shots of tequila. Jackie shimmied over to Matthew and leaned on him heavily.

“You’re amazing,” she said, loudly. “Thank you. For everything. I mean it.”

Matthew smiled as he wrapped an arm around her, but somewhere in his fuzzy brain he thought it might be time to retire. He and Jackie stumbled out of the club and into a taxi back to their hotel.

“I miss Raf,” Matthew groaned loudly, as they collapsed on the penthouse couches.

“I know you do, you big dumb-ass,” Jackie said, kicking off her shoes. “Hey Matthew…I’m really sorry I lied…I just couldn’t stand the idea that everyone might hate me when I already hated myself—”

“Ssssshhh.” Matthew leaned over and gave her a big hug. “It’s all in the past. You’re redeemed. And we don’t hate you. I love you.”

Jackie hugged him back, then started sniffling.

“Sorry,” she wailed. “But I haven’t slept and I’m a bit drunk—hey!”

“Let’s get you to bed.” Matthew had swept Jackie into a fireman’s lift and carried her into a bedroom where he threw her onto the bed. He flopped onto it beside her, and soon they were drifting into a deep, drunken sleep.

****

Matthew woke up at noon the next day, with a sore head and a dry mouth. Jackie had woken up before him and he could hear his friends shuffling around the penthouse. He groaned as he rolled over and felt the smoothness of his phone, revealing a text from Rafael: several laughing emojis followed by ‘how are you feeling this morning?? xx’.

Matthew panicked, wondering what he might have sent, but opened up the message thread and snorted with laughter: ‘yur fuvkinn awesummd Raf xxzxxxcx’.

He called him, and he picked up immediately, laughing at the sound of Matthew’s condition.

“Sounds like you had a great night!”

“I don’t think I even drank that much…my tolerance has been shot.”

“I don’t want to think about what mine might be like,” Raf said. “So, anyway, there was breaking news report this morning where a bunch of Panacea reps were arrested. Anything to do with you?”

Matthew was about to recount the full story of their success when he heard a shout that pierced his head: “BRYCE, NO, WE’RE ON THE THIRTY-FIFTH FLOOR!”

“What the--?”

Forgetting his hangover for a second, Matthew scrambled into the living room. Bryce was on the balcony, leaning over the railing. Everyone was crowded round him, laughing and groaning.

“Raf’s on the phone,” Matthew said, squinting in the daylight. “What’s going on?”

“Bryce threw up over the balcony.”

“Eeeeww!”

“If the people don’t have an umbrella, that’s on them,” Bryce said, as defiantly as he could in his hungover state.

****

News of Panacea spread quickly through Edenbrook. It was a double-edged sword. Matthew knew what it meant for Jackie, but Panacea was immediately closed pending investigation and certain medications were now inaccessible. Some patients had to be sent to other hospitals that had better supply. Even when Edenbrook did have an alternative, it was only through another pharmaceutical company that could have had the same level of corruption as Panacea.

Matthew met Jackie and Sienna by the entrance on Monday night to walk home together. They were all subdued, still with a touch of hangover and the hospital’s financial crisis heavier than ever, when Aurora burst through the doors gasping for breath.

“Thank god you’re here,” she choked. “I was just told…Kenmore don’t want to merge…the board decided…Solomon Health bought us out and the board doesn’t want to share that…they said there’s no need to lean on Edenbrook.”

“Oh god,” Matthew groaned. June had been right about the liability of Thorne pushing hospitals away. Ethan had been right about greedy hospital boards. And if Senator Farrugia had been adamant to keep research funds from Edenbrook…

They were doomed.

Tags: @sazanes @rafasgirl23415 @ceruleansnake0

[luminousnotmatter]

Best Laid Plans

a heart day j. h. s. & birdy something

like real people do ‘verse

pairing: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x female OC, her nickname is Birdy. ☺️ She’s the same Birdy from this little thing I wrote back in the fall.

warnings: PG-13 swearings. It’s not hurt/comfort in the physical injury sense, but rather in the mental-emotional sense, and even that is just sorta kinda. Other than that….It’s stupidly soft and sweet?? I think that about covers it???

word count: 1,400ish or thereabouts.

summary: Jake has a sweet and adorable Valentine’s Day date night in mind for he and Birdy. But you know what they say about the best laid plans…

author’s note: I actually wrote this last night, originally for the eyes of a precious friend only….but then it sat lurking in my brain all day today, and I’m most pleased with and proud of it and maybe it’ll bring somebody else a little joy too so….here it is. 🥹🫣💞 It takes place in the same ‘universe’ (which I have dubbed Like Real People Do because it’s my favorite Hozier song and also it because said song feels so perfectly right for them.🥹🥰) as the above-mentioned thing I wrote this past fall, only it’s later on down the line for Jake and Birdy. They’ve done the Best Friends To Lovers Upgrade™️ by now. 😉🤭♥️ It is absolutely my intention to write out their story from the beginning, and I have so much of that story already simmering on the stovetop of my brain it’s silly no seriously please somebody anybody can you come and ask me about it sometime and it would make my whole life to yell happily about it with you but until such time as I have more details plotted out and am actually inspired to actually write it from the beginning: I’m gonna just take what inspiration I get and write these two adorables from wherever on their timeline I feel I wanna in the moment.

bonus material: This song is where the lyrics quoted in the mood board come from, and it’s one I’ve loved for a long time. 💞 It’s also on my in-progress playlist for Jay and Birdy. 🥰

tagging: My Katherine @whisperofsong (it’s her with whom initially shared this last night ☺️) and My Bee @bradshawsbaby and My Sunshine @hangmanbrainrot because….because! 😍🥰♥️♥️‼️ Because I wanna!!! And also because they are unspeakably dear friends to me, who always, always, a l w a y s have the most kind and encouraging words and love and support for my silly wordsmithery. 🥹😘♥️♥️♥️

…………………………………………

Birdy isn’t somebody who needs or desires big, over-extravagant romantic gestures. She’s a gentle, easygoing, sweet, and introverted soul. Her favorite place to be is with Jake, she loves him and time spent in his company is the most she asks, on Valentine’s Day or any day.

Jake understands that. Once upon a time, his ego may have told him it was necessary to do it up big for the woman (if any) he was with on Heart Day, to show up and show off and pull out as many stops as possible because how else was that woman going to know what he’s capable of if he wasn’t advertising the biggest and best possible version of himself at all times. And once upon a time, at that phase in his life, he would’ve believed his ego. But now, he knows better. He’s matured and he’s grown and he’s learned, and Birdy, their friendship and their love has been much of the impetus behind this learning and growth and maturation.

So, come their first Valentine’s Day together, he’s got his sweet little plans and not to shine his own shoes, but he’s pretty damn confident that they’re going to be just what’ll make her happiest. Her favorite tiny, old, hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant miraculously does UberEats, so that’ll be dinner taken care of. He’s going to stop by a florist on his way to her house and pick up a bouquet of white and yellow daisies because he knows there’s no flower she loves more. They’ll eat together and talk, he’ll hold her close and his fingers entwined with hers and kiss her sweet mouth and get to hear her laugh (which is up there near the top on the list of Jake Seresin’s Favorite Sounds, among other notables such as the roar of F/A-18 engines and kickoff at a UT Austin football game) and it’ll be a good night. She’ll be happy and he’ll be happy.

But the US Navy? The US Navy has different plans entirely. Unexpected, surprise plans that brutally and efficiently, through one thing happening, then another, and another, and you guessed it: still more things happening, ruin Jake’s plans for his Valentine’s night with Birdy. Leaves him trudging through her front door abysmally late in the evening, pissed off, exhausted, still clad in his flight suit, and smelling of jet fuel, sweat, and hot, dirty tarmac.

He’s not happy. Today was NOT meant to go this way.

Nonetheless, there’s his lady to greet him; rising to stand from her beloved oversized leather armchair in the living room while he bends to untie and toe off his boots by the welcome mat. Baloo is curled up on his bed next to her chair but he lifts his dark head and thumps his tail a few times, excited and pleased to see Jake.

“Stay, Loo.” Birdy murmurs to the dog and he obeys. Albeit with a soft whine of protest. “I know you wanna, but you can say hi in a second. I get to first.” Jake grins the tiniest grin to himself.

The Navyman straightens fully and the anxious and angry tightness in his chest eases a bit because his best friend in the world is looking at him, seeing him, and her eyes are soft and sparkling and safe and *home*.

“Hey, Flyboy.” her voice is a warm hum.

Jake reaches out for her and she doesn’t resist the way he hauls them together so their chests touch and his arms cage her in. He sighs deeply, in and out. “Hi, Little Bird.”

“How was your day?”

“Kinda shit.”

Birdy reaches up to take Jake’s cheeks in her hands, thumbs sweeping his cheek bones. Her brow is scrunched up, a sympathetic frown playing with her lips. “Yeah?”

He sighs again. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry. Welcome home. I love you.”

Each of the woman’s statements are punctuated, emphasized, by a gentle kiss pressed to a different part of his face; right cheek, left cheek, then finally his mouth.

In tasting her lips, honeyed and soft, the pilot lets his shoulders start to release some of their tension. Neither of them hurry the moment, neither of them want to.

When he must break away for air, Jake rests his forehead to Birdy’s at first. “I love you.”

Those three words feel so right to say to her. They always have, even when it scared the hell out of him to say them. It doesn’t now though.

“Okay, Loo Buddy, you can come and say hi now.” Birdy’s twisting in his arms slightly to call the big black lab over to where they stand. Baloo needs no second invitation. He rises immediately and is by their side in seconds, whole body wriggling with happiness. Jake bends to give him plenty of pets and murmured verbal affection, while keeping one hand gripping Birdy’s hip loosely.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” she tells him, leaning close and kissing the only part of him her mouth can reasonably reach, his shoulder.

When he straightens once more, Jake’s gaze catches on two things on the kitchen table, over the woman in front of him. A paper bag with the UberEats logo on the front, and a bouquet of white and yellow daisies.

His heart sinks.

His face must fall too because Birdy’s sweet smile falters. “What?”

Jake jerks his chin in the direction of the table.

“That’s dinner. From Morelli’s.” she explains.

Of course she ordered that. He’d smirk in satisfaction at how well he knows her but the bitterness of disappointment in himself tastes too strong on his tongue.

“The flowers?”

Birdy grins. “My Daddy sent ‘em.”

She thinks her father’s gesture is cute and funny and sweet but Jake just nods. His green eyes drop from hers. She misses them instantly.

“Hey…Jay…” she squeezes his arms and ducks her head to try and meet his eyeline as it wanders. “What’s up?”

Jake closes his eyes. It’s not like he’s going to cry, hell no, but they still burn a little. He’s just wore out and pissed at his day and he hates that he couldn’t be the one to show Birdy he loves her with dinner and flowers.

“I…” he swallows and makes himself look in her eyes, grasping for that peaceful home feeling of them again. “I was gonna get’ya dinner. And flowers. That’s…that’s *my* job.”

“Your job?” she blinks at him.

He nods in affirmation. “It’s Valentine’s Day, y’know?” He shrugs.

Birdy’s expression melts into one of impossible tenderness, but there’s a steely seriousness lurking underneath. “Jake,” she breathes out. “Look at me, please?” He’d been studying some loose threads in the collar of her shirt, now he obeys her request. “You did your job already. You worked, hard, all day. You flew planes and kicked ass, damn, I mean, you had shit thrown at you that I can’t possibly imagine being able to handle, let alone, y’know, actually handling it. And now,” she cups his cheeks in her hands once again, “here you are, with me. How can I ask for more? Today or any day?” She drops her hands to his shoulders, squeezing them lightly. “You’re enough.” She’s smiling, her beautiful eyes bright and gaze unwavering, but the wrinkle between her brows betrays the depth of the feeling behind her words.

That tightness in his chest Jake had registered earlier, it’s no longer that of frustration or nerves fried to their last ending. Now that taut ache is one of overwhelming fondness, love and gratitude felt for the woman in his arms, on a level unmatched before he met and fell for her.

His wide, warm palms now lift to cradle her face and he moves in to capture her mouth with his own. The kiss is slow, gentle. Words, emotions from the depths of Jake’s heart are poured into it, unspoken, and he relishes being able to trust that she’s hearing them, understanding them.

Even so, Birdy deserves thing spoken out too. “Thank you, Darlin’.” His warm breath sweeps across the skin of her forehead, once they’ve broken apart, as the words leave his throat. Quiet, low, and ever-so-slightly husky.

She leaves one open-mouth kiss on his jaw, gooseflesh rolling over him in its wake. “Always, Seresin. Always.”

…………………………………………….

Jake Seresin knows that saying about the best laid plans of mice and men, and he’s not about to deny that his day today was a prime example of the truth of that saying….but 12 minutes later, when he and Birdy are seated at the table, eating and talking, and some stupid silly thing he says makes her laugh; eyes squeezing shut and her head thrown back…when that glorious, one-of-his-most-favorite-of-all-sounds rings out…….his plans never mattered much anyway. This does though. She does. With her: Happy Valentine’s Day is damn straight

[aita-blorbos]

….AITA for killing someone and then accidentally being at fault for another murder?

Look,I need to give some background here.I am 15M and I got stuck in a school inside another world with some other people(most important to the story being lily(16M) Bluebell(19F) lotus(18M) and Alstroemeria(18F) of which are not their real names btw).basically the rules of this place are that if you want to leave you need to kill someone and not get figured out in a class trial,if you get caugh,you get executed,if you DONT get caught,everyone else gets executed and you get to leave.

By this point,two murders had occurred,i wasn’t THAT handy in the trials,I only occasionally refuted people when they were wrong and happened to be the one who called out the culprits…twice.there were motives in the game that were meant to entice us to murder,and this week’s motive was hallucinations.

So I was with bluebell in the warehouse…and I got a hallucination about a childhood friend yelling…not so nice things at me so I threw one of the carts at it,but bluebell happened to be standing there and….

I panicked,I was just sitting on the floor for a few minutes while I was pondering what to do…

That’s when lily came in.

He was horrified at first,though he seemed less horrified at the murder itself and more that I would get executed for it.

He helped me get up and cover up everything.though at first he seemed panicked now he looked like he just didn’t have the capacity to react.

We lied our way through the trial,finding out that another person had actually killed someone first and therefore I wouldn’t be executed.

After that I just couldn’t help but feel guilty,not only did I kill someone in cold blood but I lied to get out of consequences and didn’t even let her true killer face the consequences all because I didn’t want to face some stupid execution.

Shortly after that the fourth motive was announced,if a murder didn’t happen in five days,everyone would be executed.

Shortly after that I got approached by lotus,he said he knew I killed bluebell and wanted me to kill him so that the others could survive.

I denied profusely,my main reason being lily.

If he found out then not only would he instantly jump to be my accomplice like in the last case,but if he saw me get executed he would basically break mentally,and the option of actually escaping isn’t much better.

I told him about that(well,the second reason.he didn’t know lily was my accomplice and we were good friends so I didn’t want to sell him out) so he said that maybe he could kill me.

At first I rejected,saying that that would also cause lily to break(for context they knew each other before the kg) but after a while I accepted,on the condition that It needed to look as much like a murder in cold blood as possible so that lily would never find out the intention.

It was a simple plan,he would put me under anesthesia and then kill me.

However,right after he put me under anesthesia and kill me,so it would look like a real murder.

But then Alstroemeria came in.

You see,Alstroemeria was kind of the leader of the group,so she saw that he was about to murder me,and they got into a fight and she killed him in a fit of rage and an attempt to “save” me.

Queue the trial and everything comes out,everything.

The truth about bluebell’s murder,lily act as an accomplice,and Alstroemeria killing lotus.

Another thing to note is that lily and alstroemeria also have history so lily basically broke and didn’t vote when it was time to choose who the killer was.(meaning execution since it was a rule that you had to vote)

In the end the execution was tailored for both of them,if Alstroemeria could complete one task,she would die.

If lily could mess up six tasks,he would die.

In the last tasks,lily had to deliver cake to a house,and I was let in.

It’s important to note that lily is much faster than Alstroemeria so he was definitely gonna outrun her and mess up the task,leading to his death

So I stopped him.

I took his hand and let Alstroemeria outrun him.

I could let another innocent person die because I made a mistake,much more my best friend.

But he pushed me away and left me.

He left me like everyone else had already,if they had even cared about me at some point.

When he caught up to Alstroemeria she was already executed.

He just broke into a fit of laughter yelling about how he couldn’t save anyone.

I broke him.

I am really sorry for what I did and I want to make it up to everyone-especially the ones closer to bluebell,lotus,and Alstroemeria,who’s deaths were all my fault.

But before this,I have to ask…

…AITA?

[basingstokemercury]

Okay ,so I was slightly off. the changeling!Julian episodes are from Rapture not The Ascent.

(This post got way longer than intended. Below the cut, I dive into deeply analysing his acting and writing in those episodes.)

Judging by In Purgatory's Shadow/By Inferno's Light, the changeling's tells seem to be:

Blank, empty expression when at rest (real!Julian does a fair amount of staring vacantly or intently, but this is more so somehow).

Very little eye movement, including blinking (compare real!Julian's tendency to dart his eyes everywhere, even when focused on a conversation).

The last one is a bit trickier, I can't quite tell if it's there or not. I do think the changeling is less hyperactive than real!Julian - we see him fiddling with his hands in the opener, before the reveal, but on the whole he seems to have a much easier time keeping still.

Vocally I believe some emotion is lacking, but that could be subjective because it's what I come in inclined to see.

Now, rewatching Rapture, The Darkness And The Light, and The Begotten (skipping For The Uniform because he isn't there):

First off, I'm certain the timeline doesn't hold up but don't feel like doing the maths. We'll put that aside for now.

None of these episodes show Julian doing anything other than his job. Could be a tell, but that's not unknown in the show and the changeling does take part in the same social activities as his counterpart.

Eye movements and blinking look roughly normal to me, though we see very little of the darting movements I mentioned. Maybe it's because we only see him focused on his job here, with few distracting stimuli?

Facial expressions feel normal, I think?

There's a full trademark Julian Smile at Quark's antics in The Begotten.

We definitely see genuine upset in The Darkness And The Light when Fala is murdered and again when he treats Kira after the explosion, an emotion I don't think the changeling is capable of faking well (see In Purgatory's Shadow, delivery on "You can't let him go, it's too dangerous").

The second of these also begins with Kira unconscious, meaning the changeling wouldn't have to pretend, so that's pretty conclusive evidence that either we're seeing real!Julian all the way up to there or the actors didn't know about the changeling twist until the episode it happened.

(my shipping brain is getting a little distracted by that scene. I'll have to file it away for later.)

I'm not sure about body language, we don't get enough to really tell and no scenes where real!Julian would be visibly fidgeting.

The first scene after the opening credits of The Begotten has head movements that feel very natural when talking to Sisko for a moment. We can't see his eyes very well, though.

On the whole, I do think the acting feels right. If the writers knew they were going to pull the changeling twist in episodes leading up to it, I doubt they told the cast.

Now, to the story analysis.

Why would a changeling want to save Sisko in Rapture? Surely this would be the perfect chance to go "oops, a delicate operation failed, there goes the leader of our most immediate opposing force"?

Yes, he insists on waiting for Jake's permission to operate, which could be seen as a stalling tactic.

But this is the chief medical officer. He's the one who found the problem in the first place and the one who stated the need for an operation. I find it dubious that a changeling would do that and not just wait until too late then claim he didn't realise what was going on in time.

I covered The Darkness And The Light under my acting analysis, nothing really interesting in the story department. I can believe a changeling would be concerned for the safety of Kira's baby even if it saw her as an enemy.

Then again, that changeling is later willing to destroy an entire solar system. Makes me wonder what it was like impersonating someone so loved and loving for a month, if any of that rubbed off, what its own personality was like and how it felt about the orders it was given... Someone else can definitely write that fic better than me though.

Suffice it to say, I'm absolutely convinced on the basis of acting that Alexander Siddig is not knowingly playing a changeling in this episode.

The Begotten... now this is a really interesting one if the changeling is there. It's about a baby changeling! Which dies! I can only imagine a changeling's emotions not even being able to tell this child that they're the same.

I'm not sure what to make of his first reaction to the baby changeling. He doesn't know it's a baby, of course, but would real!Julian's reaction to a sick changeling really be "this is dangerous" and not "it needs our help, that's the first thing to worry about"?

Or is that what a changeling would say, trying to pose as a suspicious human?

That's the first point in the changeling column so far.

His reaction to the baby's deterioration and death seems to be his usual bedside manner in terminal cases - concerned, but being strong for the patient and their loved ones.

Another changeling would likely have been more deeply affected, but someone on a mission of impersonation likely knows how to hide their emotions.

In conclusion:

I love changeling!Julian, both as an amazingly acted character (with surprisingly analysis potental for someone who appears in one two-parter and dies) and as part of a great episode.

But I don't think the consequences of his existence were thought out too well by the writers or directors.

Still, I much prefer this to our other poorly-foreshadowed Julian-related reveal, although that's definitely a low bar.

Time to go write some fanfic.

[coldwind-shiningstars]

part two!

Kabru, Mithrun, narratives, and self-recognition through the other

Kabru is very aware of the ways in which the elves treat odd ones out. As a child, after he was adopted, he was coddled, kept away from danger, smothered in affection. Milsiril loved him, yes, she taught him everything he knows but did she treat him as agentic? Kabru obviously cares about her but resents the way she treated him, and he's not the only one to notice this tendency of hers; Otta explicitly says that Milsiril treats short-life races as pets. Otta is probably being harsher than Milsiril deserves, since she's being teased herself, but it does match with Kabru's images of elves.

What happens when you age to adulthood and your mother doesn't age with you? What happens when she knows intellectually that you're a short-life species but still sees you as a child?

Well. You love her but you never want to go back. You were different, you didn't like the food but she fed it to you anyway… the way they go straight from Kabru's flashback to Milsiril to the realization that a) Kabru and Mithrun are trapped and b) Kabru now has to take care of them is, as usual, a very clever piece of storytelling. Kabru’s memories of his childhood involved his every need theoretically being taken care of but him not being treated like a full person, and the narrative flows from that relatively straight into "take care of the captain" and the foils there. To be clear, I'm not saying they don't love each other or Milsiril is abusive or not trying her best or anything like that, but transracial adoptees in the real world (i.e. people who were adopted by parents of a different race) often talk about how even if their parents were loving, it can be so tricky when it comes to different experiences, even without factoring in life span issues.

He's stuck with elves Again, noble elves, Canary commanders, just like his mother. And he is put in charge of their needs; maybe in a much more straightforward and direct way with Mithrun (“feed him” vs realizing over time that Milsiril is making him her emotional support tallboy) but he must be aware of the parallels. 

And then he starts really observing Mithrun and goes pretty quickly from “I can't muster up interest in his personality” to “oh, something is very, very wrong with him.” And then to be told that whole story – Kabru is a genius with social stuff, this story makes everything fall into place for him. Of course he's going to use it to teach other people.

Kabru has privacy instincts, and I think that although he also very much wanted a streamlined story to best Make His Point, he also does care about Mithrun's comfort. 

There may also be some level of discomfort about how close it hits to him. Kabru is an altruistic person; he's not jealous, he's not selfish, he doesn't look down on people. But he's very used to presenting a friendly, social front to cover his own darker inner thoughts. He's attractive and he uses it to his advantage. What does it feel like to him when Mithrun describes these traits of his old self as negatives? What does it mean when Mithrun says that Kabru is inquisitive, that he asks a lot of the dungeon, and that this is going to get him killed? What does it mean that he has a complex, multilayered desire (to prevent the Utaya tragedy from happening again), a desire that is relatively rare? What does it mean to be a deeply traumatized person used to hiding what you want?

Either way, regardless of Kabru's intentions, to Mithrun a significant part of his story is his own poor choices, the ways in which he was an unpleasant person who everyone loved because they couldn't see just how unpleasant he actually was. He was jealous, selfish, insincere, ableist, vain, obsessed with status, wanted to take something from his brother just because he thought he deserved it more… these are the desires the demon wanted to take from him, not some sad lost love. I don't even know if he loved his “beloved”; maybe he thought she was attractive, but he also thought she was dangerous. Even before his desires were eaten he doesn't seem like he loves the illusion-her, he just didn't want his brother to have her. This is the crux of the story to him! He was a bad person; he's victim-blaming himself, a little, but when it comes to cautionary tales this horrible soup of superiority complexes he had he sure thinks is relevant. Mithrun was a genuinely unpleasant person, and the demon saw this. 

Kabru's using the cut down story in the Service Of Defeating The Demon, and the things he cut out help in maintaining Mithrun's image/privacy, and also Mithrun isn't stopping him from telling it. It doesn't matter to him that Mithrun thinks it's inaccurate – he's asking for Mithrun's opinion and then kind of forging on anyway, which is a fascinating trait, but I do think it's emblematic of the ways Mithrun is seen as unagentic both in the sense of “levels of being at fault for what happened to him” but also agency over the way his story is told and used – he doesn't have a desire to stop Kabru from framing it the way he's framing it, but I do think he's being clear that the details and punchline do matter to him and Kabru is making the choice that they don't matter to him or Laios.

I'm not going to say he's wrong for making this choice; he's very much working for a worthy goal here (he's trying to keep people from dying!). But it's worth saying anyway, and worth noting that he asks for Mithrun's approval and then immediately ignores the feedback, even if he does think some of the things Mithrun told him are deeply private and shouldn't be spread around and this is a form of caring for him. "He's not telling me to stop so it's fine, right? It's in service of his goal so it's fine. I don't want to make him look bad, so it's fine.”

Similarly, I think it makes perfect sense that initially he doesn't intend to tell Mithrun why he's cutting the story down and who he's planning to tell – he's actually correct that Mithrun will want to kill Laios, he and Mithrun remain somewhat at odds when it comes to goals, Mithrun doesn't care much about either Kabru or Laios at all. He's not actively hiding it or keeping it a secret, but he's also not being upfront. He's planning to tell a stranger an intensely personal and traumatic story, and he only actually mentions this when Mithrun calls him out on clearly planning to tell someone. He doesn't ask permission and he doesn't give context.

This is also a character parallels moment, I think. Kabru is so used to using his own trauma story as a tool to help him get closer to shutting down the dungeon. I'm sure he's polished out all the parts that don't match the image he wants to put out, and I assume that much of what he polishes out are actually the worst part for him, the part that truly keeps him up at night. He's willing to do anything to keep dungeons down, including repeatedly telling strangers about the worst day of his life. When he tells the elves about Utaya, he's clearly acting in a way that they'll read as a perfect, acceptably sad victim but likely doesn't accurately represent how much he really does struggle with it. But he's making his own choice to use it as a teaching moment and making his own choices about what to leave out, and he's making that choice for Mithrun too. 

Every Day For The Rest Of Your Life

It takes twenty years for Mithrun to recover enough to join the Canaries, and then he loses his reason to keep trying all over again. He has to find something else, some other way.

There's a lot of justified criticism of a lot of fantasy and fictional stories that “cure” their disabled characters, and once again dungeon meshi sidesteps this very nicely. Nobody's cured at any point. But there is definite understand of the ebb and flow of difficulty someone can have with even a static disability. Rehabilitation, changes in the people around you, loss – even if your disability itself doesn't worsen or get better in the strict sense, the way you deal with it can change.

It takes a long time. Even postdungon when they're trying to find new desires for him he's never going to get the old ones back. He can grow and change but he's never getting back what he lost; even with all the new desires out there like making noodles, he's never going to regain the desire to pee, you know?

It's also very funny (in a Yeah That's What It's Like Way) when they're all suggesting wild stuff for him to want to do. They mean well! It's true that some of those desires are really unlikely to have been eaten! But he's not having a mid-life crisis. Overcome your brain injury and ptsd with this one simple trick (doing pottery)!

It's also striking, again, that Kabru is the first person to really suggest trying this. Sure, the dungeon desire worked for a while, but surely someone else could have thought before that he has the capacity to develop new desires or at least Get New Goals even if it's a little off from how other people might have goals. 

Either way, pottery and noodles are so far away from his previously established post demon goals and ~hobbies (if dungeon crawling can be considered a hobby) they're probably not a great first step. "Help eat Falin" is a desire that makes sense with everything else about his personality and it makes sense to me that that's what he has access to. Even if Kabru doesn't have all the knowledge he needs about what Mithrun's old desire actually was, since Mithrun himself didn't know it until just then, he's still once again the best at getting to the heart of the matter.

Mithrun's ending is honestly really good. The other dungeon masters wanted to avoid death, and he has to come to terms with not dying. Parallels, and all that. Dungeons are about the business of living.

He's never going to not be, metaphorically, vegetable scraps. That's why what Senshi said resonated so strongly with him. There's no “oh, don't say that about yourself!” Senshi just tells him that vegetable scraps are important and have value, too. It's a very sweet, hopeful ending for him, and I'm happy nothing about his actual disability changed for him to get it. 

Dungeon Meshi is obviously primarily about food, eating, and crucially survival through eating, but it's also focused on other aspects of survival. Sleep, rest, social ties and social exclusion. There's even extensive commentary on things like personal grooming (Marcille’s hair, Toshiro becoming depressed and no longer shaving), clean bathrooms, and other things. When it comes to disability these things are referred to as instrumental activities of daily life (IADLs), which are more complex things like shopping, housework, and cooking, which people need to do to survive, and activities of daily life (ADLs) which are the basic bare bones needs: eating, toileting, etc. Dungeon Meshi is concerned with the logistics of living and finding joy in those logistics.

This is super related to disability! Yes, Laios is autistic, this has been apparent from the beginning. But what does being autistic mean for him and the story? Mostly, it means his desires, goals, and the ways he goes about achieving them are strange, foreign, or baffling. He has different priorities than other people and the way he expresses those priorities are strange. They affect how he socializes, how he eats…

So, it absolutely makes sense that there would be a minor sideplot about activities of daily living and what it's like to be out of sync with everyone else when it comes to prioritizing things. It's Mithrun Time (he's gonna mith all over the place) and I'm so SO interested in the interplay of disability, caregiving and the logistics thereof, and intersectionality & privilege. Who needs care? How do other people feel about them needing care? How do they receive that care? And who do we think is worthy of receiving care and how does that interact with all these other factors?

Bunch of manga and extras spoilers past the cut:

“So, what's wrong with you?”

I see a lot of people talking about Mithrun's non-eye disability as a depression allegory, which I think is true, but I think it's also metaphorically/symbolically both a traumatic brain injury and a trauma response to sexual assault. The sexual assault aspect is pretty clear if you look at any of the symbolism of the actual disabling event: just look at it.

Mithrun is lying in bed and the goat comes to him, lifts him up and puts its mouth on his abdomen and lower pelvis. The eating is sexually charged, as is the particular way he struggles and protests. It's intensely violating, and things that were once desirable are lost. And the dungeon lord group therapy session involves a lot of people talking about the demons like an abusive lover; Mithrun, even though he wanted to kill the demon so badly, still says that they're gentle.

As for the brain injury, chronic TBIs can cause a wide variety of symptoms. Some immediately relevant ones are anhedonia (lack of enjoyment), executive function issues, poor interoception (trouble understanding what's going on in your body), cognitive impairment affecting ability to reason/multitask/plan/solve problems, changes in behavior and personality, depression, agitation, and restlessness. We see… basically all of these, in Mithrun, as downstream effects of the loss of desires. He can't tell when he's hungry, tired, or out of mana; he can't perform ADLs consistently even if he knows he'll die without doing them and dying without doing them will interfere with his long-term goal, he had drastic personality changes, he oscillates between impatient and totally withdrawn.

Brain injuries can also affect more complex tasks and ability to sustain lengthy periods of complex cognitive work. A common example is losing the ability to read and process longer passages; maybe you can read the words but you can't read a paragraph, or maybe you can read paragraphs but now you get a migraine after 15 minutes. Mithrun's skill loss is not related to reading but the effect is similar – he is and was extremely skilled in a particular area of magic, but also disabled in ways that specifically hinder his skill in this area – to teleport things properly you need depth perception and a sense of direction, and he lacks both of these! And while he's still an incredibly effective fighter it seems like he pretty frequently makes those sorts of mistakes.

This is treated often as a gag and it is genuinely funny but it’s also very real, to no longer be as good at the thing you were good at before you became disabled. Kui takes several throwaway gags seriously later on, not just this one. Another ~gag that's not really elaborated on is the bathroom thing, but I appreciate its inclusion anyway, since even if it's presented humorously it doesn't feel meanspirited in a way a lot of “diaper jokes” do. I think people need to talk a lot more about bathroom issues in a wide variety of disabilities, and I think it's nice that a guy I can already picture the “poor little meow meow” posts about also has this issue, you know?

Preferences vs Desire

Even referencing PTSD and TBIs it's hard to really grasp what having no desires means, and the characters don't generally ask, while Mithrun explains it in vague terms. “Desires” is a very broad term and indeed he has lost access to a wide but related variety of things. Unfortunately this lead to him often being treated as nonagentic.

Mithrun does still have preferences, even if he doesn't express them and has no desire which would drive him to seek out pleasant things and avoid unpleasant ones. He'll comment on the taste and texture of foods, for example – sure seems like he has an opinion!

People treat it like his preferences don't matter since he doesn't usually bring them up unprompted, and he's often in situations where there aren't other options.

Kabru seems best at not doing this (and, noncoincidentally, also seems to be the best at actually caring for him; the Canaries have a lot more Resources theoretically than Kabru And Mithrun Eating Monsters And Kabru's A Bad Cook, but although they are loudly distressed by the two of them disappearing it seems to have positively affected Mithrun's general health)

But, uh, acknowledgement that someone has preferences at all is a really low bar to clear and Kabru also doesn't seem to fully understand how Mithrun's brain works. Mithrun’s caregivers want him to eat when they want him to eat. They want him to rest and drink when they want him to.

He lacks the desire for a number of mundane things but also seems to lack the ability to tell when he needs them. He can't explain why he faints; is “I am out of mana” considered a desire for more mana, one that can be eaten? He can't sleep on his own; it's not only that he lacks “the desire to go to bed” but he can't do anything with his own exhaustion, even if he notices it. He comments on the unpleasant taste and texture of several meals; he may be unable to want to not eat it, but he definitely can tell when he dislikes something. But he also seems to be unable to tell when he's hungry.

Kabru will acknowledge these preferences but there's not really other food options, and Everyone Must Eat. Kabru doesn't know the details of Mithrun's condition yet but you can see the immediate frustration here and the way he offers food to him like Mithrun's a child.

Sure, he won't directly communicate preferences, so that makes it extra hard, but you can always just ask, and if he tells you he tells you.

The pathway between opinion and taking actions about it may be lost in Mithrun but the dungeon forces other people into a similar position – it forces them to eat food they don't want to eat so that they can survive or accomplish other goals. We've seen this with Marcille from the beginning. It's difficult with Mithrun because it seems like there is always going to have to be some sort of someone else overriding his autonomy – yeah, he's not hungry but he still needs to eat or he'll faint. Yeah, he's lying about whether or not he's clean but he still needs to wash or he'll die. Yeah, he needs to take a rest instead of keeping moving or he'll faint. But he's not unique in being in a situation where he has to do nonpreferred things. The difference is more that he lacks the ability to independently do anything when it comes to ADLs, preferred or not, which makes it into someone else’s choice and responsibility.

There's also a theme in Dungeon Meshi that comes up a bit of people being pushy about ADLs but from a slightly different perspective, and they're usually right. You see this in Senshi most commonly; he pushes the residents of the Golden City to actually eat even if they don't need to and can't taste it, and while he's correct in that Yaad does get enjoyment from the food even without taste he's still not quite listening to Yaad. Similarly, Kabru is correct in that he can get Mithrun to sleep without a sleeping spell, but he also ignores the way Mithrun says several times that he doesn't expect massage to work. There's a few aspects to this – wild but expected that the elves would choose the “just knock him out with a spell” route, the “easy way” Senshi always talks about when it comes to magic, instead of actually paying attention to other solutions. But also, generally, people know their bodies best, and sometimes even if you're really sure you have the trick to help them you have to listen to what they tell you.

tvtropes dot org frontslash DisabilityTropes

This is going to be a harder section just because it's so subjective; it's nearly impossible to think about the ways in which disabled people are viewed by the people around them/wider society with any degree of objectivity just because there are so many factors that go into it. But I do think Mithrun is consistently treated as relatively nonagentic and there are several ways this can manifest: being treated as a doll/pet/child, being treated as a weapon, and being a surface for people to project onto.

He's framed or treated as childlike intermittently through the manga; scattered about, just a little vibe in the way he's drawn, like the "say aah" above and Pattadol and Cithis through the teleportation scroll :

That's a middle aged man! And he's framed like a toddler getting picked up or misbehaving.

Which doesn't mean they care about him any less; his squad is really fond of him for someone who's technically like their parole officer. How dare you do this to our captain! They love him dearly; this is obvious and he comments on it! They respect him, too, as the leader and as a strong fighter. But loving someone and thinking they're a skilled fighter doesn't mean you respect their autonomy fully.

There's also an element of everyone projecting their own issues onto him; Kabru with their shared Dungeon Trauma. The canaries all suggesting wacky, midlife-crisis desires. He doesn't ever express that he minds any of this, except when they try to stop him from making particular decisions. They also don't often understand why he'd be motivated to do a particular thing, and in fact some of these projections may actually be correct! But while noodles and pottery may be good later-on goals for him, I think it's striking that a) Kabru was the closest to correctly guessing what desire Mithrun might acquire now and he was still guessing the exact opposite (suggesting a desire to not eat Falin but to help Laios, vs Mithrun's actual desire, which was to eat Falin with no thought given to the promise he made at all) and b) it's a desire that actually makes perfect sense with what we know about him, not something totally new.

And, finally, he's a weapon: people are willing to caretake him because he's good at killing things dead. If his only desire is to kill demons dead, it's easy to start seeing that as who he is. I don't think he'd argue that “trying to kill demons” takes up the majority of his life (it's his only goal and he's obsessed with it) but even if there's only one thing that matters to him he has autonomy (in the sense that he can make his own choices about what to prioritize and formulate his own plans) and personhood.

Politics and privilege – who gets to access care?

One of the things we're first presented with when it comes to Mithrun is that he is intensely capable at handling dungeons. Yeah, there's the immediately visible prosthetic eye and the navigation issues, but the Canaries are built up as being incredibly dangerous and skilled, and he's their captain; they all immediately defer to him. He's intense, he curbstomps an entire room of guards, he's efficient, he's brutal, he's strong physically and magically.

In short: yeah, he's very disabled. He's also still very useful.

At the risk of oversimplification, even within his particular disability, he's much more disabled than Marcille is (she lost something relatively simple and easy to miss, she has no catatonia-moment) but less disabled than Thistle, who seems to still have at least one desire related to the king but is still primarily catatonic. It seems like Thistle is not unusual among ex-dungeon lords, even if there's enough noncatatonic dungeon lords to form a support group later. When Milsiril finds Mithrun, she immediately intends to mercy-kill him – this seems to be a condition the elves are familiar with but consider terminal, at least to the degree Mithrun is affected, and people seem unfamiliar what it means to keep living in this state because Mithrun is unusual in that he survives at all. And he's “allowed” to survive initially because he's not as disabled as he could have been (still has a desire) and that desire is useful. They aim him at the dungeons and off he goes. It takes twenty years for him to recover enough to do it, sure, but they're elves. They can wait. He can still be useful.

Relatedly, when he loses the ability to pursue his desire he's immediately much worse off than he was previously.

The no-desire catatonia is something that can recur and the elves continue to not know how to handle it. If Kabru wasn't there to problemsolve I think he'd have just… stayed there with his increasingly distressed squad.

Speaking of his squad, there's also a fascinating power dynamic going on with just the inherent structure of the Canaries; criminals are assigned as his caregivers. There's the inherent unfairness to the criminal Canaries about them being given extra duties, this strange rich noble guy who's now their Responsibility. There's so much possibility for resentment in normal caregiving relationships, much less being forced by your jailor into caregiving someone. But there's also an element of the power the prisoner Canaries now have over him and his most basic ADLs and needs. Assigning Cithis to his care is such a can of worms! The dynamics of the situation are frankly awful for both of them; of course she resents him initially. It would be strange for her not to. When Pattadol catches her making Mithrun do embarrassing things, she instantly reminds Cithis of her lower-status – she's forced to care for this nobleman and then forcibly reminded that she's beneath him.

She's responding to having menial, low-status tasks forced on her by trying to humiliate him, and although he doesn't have the ability to care enough to stop her it's still a deliberate removal of dignity. He's the instrument with which she is punished and she punishes him in return (until it's not fun anymore and she understands him a bit more.)

Mithrun is a long-lived race, who has structural power over the shorter lived races simply because of how long they live. The dwarves and elves try to actively keep certain knowledge from other races, restricting their access to technology, and other expressions of distance. Senshi spends nearly the whole first season not listening to Chilchuck trying to explain that he's an adult and treating him like a child, and Kabru repeatedly says that the elves do the same thing (and tbh we see them doing it). There's even the fact that it took him twenty years to recover enough to join the Canaries again; a shorter-lived race might have died from old age in this time, or become too old to work in this capacity, and then wasted away without the drive to return to the dungeons. But they're elves; the other elves can afford to wait, and he's not going to age out of dungeoneering any time soon. Being an elf probably contributes to his wealth in the same way skin color contributes to wealth inequality in the real world.

Dungeon Meshi doesn't really go into race in the sense of skin color much, and Kui is writing from a different cultural standpoint than I am. While tallmen are quite accurate when it comes to skin/hair color (yes, even Kabru and his blue eyes; it's rare but possible) and cultural references, the elves, uh, absolutely are not, both in the sense of “dark skin & pale hair and eyes trope” and sense of the royals having jet black skin.

Still, I feel like race is so connected to care and caregiving in the real-world west that I would be profoundly remiss not to mention it. Skin color might not matter to elves in the racism sense, but it matters to humans and humans are the ones writing and analyzing this story. (And I fully expect as the fandom grows with anime-onlies people will like Mithrun more because he's white (has white features) than they would if he had darker skin, because fandom is also baseline racist.)

I don't think we can just not mention that Mithrun is pale-skinned and both Cithis and Kabru, his primary caregivers over the story, both have dark skin.

Racism means white people are more likely to get good medical care, the type you need to get diagnosed and prescribed caregiving. Racism means wealth distribution is uneven, favoring white people. Race affects immigrants taking on undesirable jobs like caregiving for low pay. Racism is a profound stressor which means it contributes to who becomes disabled in the first place in that it can worsen health outcomes.

Similarly to race, gender may not be very obvious when it comes to this subplot within the story but the gendered dynamics of caregiving in the real world are something I do want to touch on. There's an oft-cited statistic about how men are much more likely than women to divorce their partners when their partners are diagnosed with a serious condition; I don't like relying too much on those sorts of statistics because they can be so misleading but it does gesture at something very real, culturally. Even if men aren't supposed to be caretaken, women are supposed to be the caretakers. Certainly, it's not Mithrun's fault that he can't cook and can't do laundry and probably can't do most housework, but I do also think about all the posts passed around about “my boyfriend who won't do housework.”

Again, none of these privileges make him less disabled and less in need of and deserving of care, they're just worth talking about when we talk about caregiving in general.

It's Rotten Work, Even If It's You

People expect disabled people receiving care to be grateful, to accept anything, and to try and make it easier for the caregiver if they're able. Requiring care is an incredibly disadvantaged position, even as actually receiving it can be so tangled up in privilege. Caregiving is tremendously difficult work, it's true, but there's a particular vibe people want from disabled people – all those movies about not wanting to be seen as a burden. Never complaining. Being grateful.

And, uh, well…

Mithrun basically accepts anything his caregivers do, but he's not grateful at all! I appreciate that in a disability portrayal. He'll also lie to and ignore his caregivers, which is Annoying but is definitely an expression of autonomy even if he's probably not doing it specifically to express his autonomy. He's not going to thank you. He's not going to make it easy. He'll accept a lot of things considered “undignified,” and he's not mean or unpleasant in the sense that he's taking advantage or anything, but he's certainly not a model patient.

He's running off back into the dungeons just when you think you've finally gotten him somewhere safe.

There's always a strange tension in caregiving, I've found. It is incredibly intimate but a lot of it is done by total strangers. A number of caregiving tasks are viewed by the wider world as entitled but placing those tasks in the hands of strangers is a remarkably tough place to be in. As a disabled person, I've had to accept my bowel movements being discussed with my parents’ friends, all sorts of being physically moved places not against my will but without my permission, even my pubic hair being shaved off by a stranger (nurse) while I was unable to speak or move. When people are feeding you, making sure you use the toilet, rubbing your feet to make you sleep, helping you with hygiene – people are working so hard to help you. Are you supposed to just accept them doing whatever they want to you?

There's also a dynamic where people will say they don't mind caring for you, they're happy to do it, and then as the years go by and you continue to need care the resentment just builds up. Caregiving is hard work. It's often thankless. The goodness of people’s hearts can run dry, when it's been twenty years and you still can't bathe yourself.

Aaand I need to continue in reblogs, because I'm out of space for images. Please hold.

[culttvblog]

Number 6 was a Plant: The Chimes of Big Ben

You can read the introduction to this series of posts examining the suggestion that Number 6 could be a plant, here: https://www.tumblr.com/culttvblog/738540162388213760/number-6-was-a-plant-introduction Perhaps I should also have said in the introduction that I have arbitrarily decided to follow the ITC order of episodes for these posts. I still want to do some posts about the order of the episodes, and am reminded that Chimes of Big Ben this early in the run makes absolutely no sense from the viewer's point of view, because it means poor Number 6 has barely arrived and the Village authorities are talking about the remaining tactics that they haven't tried yet.

In my last post, about Arrival, I commented that if you want to see Number 6 as a plant, then his investigation is equally divided between finding out what is happening in the Village and testing its security to desctruction by trying to leave it. In Chimes of Big Ben he reaches the apogee of his attempts to leave by attempting to make it back to London. I am therefore in no doubt that his intention is clearly to test the Village's security, and he must therefore be motivated by rumoured excapes or cover-ups in the Village. He approaches trusted (?former) colleagues in London and tells them about the Village.

I would suggest, based on their reaction, that Number 6 has self-allocated this assignment. On the evidence of this episode he has not been 'planted' by British intelligence authorities, because they just repeat the same questions he has already been asked mutliple times in the Village. It is strangely comforting that it completely fits with Number 6's maverick personality that he would hear about corruption and escapes in the Village and assign himself to investigate it by appearing to resign and having it backfire on him.

He has made a real mistake, because his resignation has been convincing so everyone else in the episode, both in the Village and from Britain, is proceeding as if he has resigned and they just treat him as a prisoner of the Village. He has set up such a convincing cover story that he's then caught in Village security himself and can't escape! Perhaps he should have told someone before resigning...

This episode does reinforce that he is clearly someone very senior in intelligence, not least judging by the Whitehall types who know him. I would also suggest that in the scene where Number 2 invites him to watch Nadia wake up and he watches the various 'treatments' going on in the hospital, he is being treated much more as a senior, trusty, managerial visitor than a lowly new boy.

If you wanted to be particularly critical of the way Number 6 is going about his investigation, you could say that he's going about his test escape in a particularly cack-handed way because of his complete trust of Nadia, when he is resolutely suspicious of everyone else in the Village, including her at first. However it could be that Number 6's acts of finding out what is what at the Village naturally include trying out everything, including the Village authorities' smoke and mirrors.

I would therefore conclude from this episode that based on the events depicted it is still possible to view Number 6 as a plant, although probably a self-planted one, and his actions as attempts to investigate the Village and test its security to destruction.

A couple of other things have struck me about this episode on this viewing:

I really don't like the scene where Number 2 invites NUmber 6 watch Nadia waking up in her house. I frankly find it a bit pervy, them both watching her. The Village authorities would have some justification in their own eyes because she will just have been drugged and is waking up in a copy of her own home, both of which are bound to be traumatic. But inviting Number 6 to watch her is way out of line to my mind.

For some reason I notice that when I'm tryingto watch it thinking of one way of understanding it The Prisoner always makes me think of other ways as well, and obviously this time it's going to make me think that the Village is like a cult. In The Chimes of Big Ben this becomes especially clear in the art competition where literally every exhibit is all about the cult's charismatic leader, which is proper freaky.

Be seeing you!

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