#drew this yesterday after watching the doc!

[gojisaurus]

singing together one last time

[motions1ckness]

“Now I’m Covered in You”

pt 2 to “Fall in Nashville”!!

Summary: after last night, you and Julien decide to go on a hike.

Content: smut!!, f!reader, fluff?, exhibitionism, switch reader (?), getting caught, soft dom julien, hair pulling

(this is the longest story i’ve written and i’m drained but i love it)

You had slept on the couch. Julien insisted on sharing her bed. As tempting as it was, you didn’t want to rush things.

It was around 7 when you heard footsteps in the kitchen, followed by a clinging of mugs.

“Fuck sorry,” Julien said in a hush. It drew a groan from you by the sudden noise. You walked to the bathroom, not wanting to look horrendous when Julien saw you.

After you spat out your toothpaste, you had a good look at yourself before walking back out. You looked great. Not only what you wore, but everything. Your hair was cooperating, and your eye bags didn’t look so sullen. Maybe it was the ego boost from last night, but you decided to not give it too much thought. You kept a hair tie on your wrist, just in case your hair decided to betray you.

As you stepped out of the bathroom into the kitchen, you smelt the coffee Julien brewed.

“Hey sorry about earlier, I made you coffee,” She expressed, holding out a mug in front of her. A huge grin appeared on her face as she handed you the cup. Just the sight of Julien made you weak in the knees. She wore a black tank top and shorts that showed off her tattoos and stomach.

“Thanks, the couch was a bit uncomfortable,” you admitted, heading to the fridge to add creamer to the coffee. Julien sat on the counter drinking her cup.

“Should’ve taken my offer.” She said under her breath, placing her cup down.

You made your way in front of Julien after fixing your coffee. Julien kept her eyes on you. She glanced at your eyes, then your chest, before meeting your eyes again. Her gaze seemed wanting.

“I know,” You put your hand on her knee. She hitched her breath as you started to caress it. “I just didn’t want to rush anything.” You revealed, watching her bite her lip.

“It’s getting harder not to kiss you right now,” she admitted, ignoring your reply. You felt your face flush as your eyes widened at her response. Julien eagerly leaned toward you, cupping your chin and kissing you gently. She took her time now being at the height advantage. She wanted to draw this moment out as long as she could.

You felt a fluttering sensation between your legs as Julien moved her free hand to your chest. It pulled a moan from you, which made her smile between the kisses. The two of you ached for more as she slid her hand from your breast to the inside of your joggers. You broke the sloppy kisses with another moan. Julien started tracing small circles through your underwear, driving you to whimper under her touch. Before the situation could escalate any further, you heard a faint gasp. The two of you flinched off of each other as you saw Pheobe and Lucy in the doorway, covering their mouths.

No one knew what to say, everyone’s faces became red as you all felt mortified.

“W-we just wanted some coffee,” Phoebe finally spoke out, finding humor in the situation.

Lucy gave a stifled laugh, ” We can just come back.” They both started to back up like they just walked in on a breakup.

Julien hopped off the counter, looking flustered. “We were just,” she cleared her voice, “hanging out.” She said, scratching her head.

Your jaw was agape from Julien’s awful lie. Lucy and Pheobe merely stood there with the same expression as you.

Julien continued to lighten the situation, “Actually, we're gonna go on a hike so uh, it’s all yours.”

Julien quickly walked past them as you followed her, refusing to meet either of their eyes. After you two left the kitchen, Julien grabbed the shoes you two wore yesterday to put them on outside. As you shut the door, you heard Lucy and Pheobe burst out laughing.

Julien handed you your shoes as she laced up her docs. “I can’t fucking believe they saw that.” She chuckled. You slipped on your shoes, holding your hand out to help her up after she finished.

“It was fucking funny though. Mortifying, but funny.” You laugh. Julien still held your hand. She leaned forward, having to stand on her toes to kiss you. You met her halfway, your other arm snaking around her waist.

The front door opened. “JB you left your-” Lucy caught you two again. “Oh my god! Nevermind!” Lucy said before shutting the door.

Both of you pulled away laughing, knowing it wasn’t as bad as earlier.

“Okay let’s actually go.” You say.

–

The trail Julien took you on was beautiful. She narrated how she found it and how she met Lucy and Pheobe. You two stopped by a massive stump that was shaded by neighboring trees. You sat on it with Julien standing between your legs. The two of you examined each other's bodies before speaking.

“Julien are you not cold or anything?” You question, creating eye contact. The weather was nice, but you wore a tank and sleep pants, and Julien only wore her shorts and the black tank.

“No, I’m fine. It feels good, despite being basically naked in the woods.” She joked as she began playing with your hair. You drew her waist closer to you. Lying your head on her toned stomach before meeting her eyes again.

“Jay, I need you.” You managed to get out. You felt that familiar sensation between your legs again.

Julien swallowed, “I need you too.” She replied.

You maintained eye contact as you pulled her shorts down and knelt beneath her. Her breath hitched from the cool air. She moved her hands to your hair, waiting for your next move. You started kissing her thighs, paying the most attention to her tattoos. You could hear her trying to conceal a moan which made you hum. You held her hips as you placed a kiss on her clit.

Julien’s hips jolted as she shuttered from the sensation. You pulled away before proceeding. Julien looked down at you, nodding to let you know it was okay. You smiled as you lifted her leg over your shoulder and moved one of your hands under her shirt. Julien tightened her grip on your hair before your mouth attached to her clit again.

“F-fuckkk,” Julien rasped, keeping her eyes on you. Not wanting to miss a thing. Her breath became uneven as you began kneading her sensitive nipple. You kept attacking her clit before letting go of her hip to run your finger along her entrance. A gasp escaped her throat after you inserted yourself into her. You could feel her body tighten as her hips began grinding against your face.

You set a rapid pace, all your focus on getting her there. You removed your hand from under her shirt to hold her in place better. She was a whimpering mess and you could tell she was close. You inserted a second finger and sped up your movements with your mouth. Julien felt close to release but needed the final push. You decided to be rougher, quickening your pace and curling your fingers until she came. Julien’s legs were trembling, her eyebrows furrowed, throwing her head back, letting her jaw hang. She instinctively drove your head closer to her body. You gave a muffled moan as you laid your tongue flat, letting her face fuck you. You kept your fingers in her, riding out her orgasm. You felt the build-up in your core from the situation, hearing Julien’s noises and her eagerness made you a mess underneath her.

After Julien came back down, you removed your fingers from her as she drew your head away, still holding onto you. Her chest was heaving and her face was red. She looked down at you again, as she shakily removed her leg from your shoulder. You two stared at each other for a moment before taking the fingers you used on Julien into your mouth and sucked. The both of you felt a tight flutter, as she moved her hands to your face and pulled you to stand. She eagerly kissed you as you wrapped your hands around her neck.

“You’re fucking great,” she praised between kisses. You pulled away to catch your breath properly again. You felt like you ran a marathon. Julien’s thumb ran across your face. She looked so gentle and focused. “You’re so pretty.” She added.

She fixed her gaze on the rest of your body and spotted the hair tie you kept on from earlier. “You had a hair tie this whole time?” She laughed. You both found it comical as she pulled up her shorts that had been left on one of her ankles.

“I forgot I had it,” you laugh. Julien started messing with the hair tie around your wrist, moving closer to you.

“We can still use it you know.” She says, darting a look at you. You feel your face return to a familiar blush as you knew what she was implying.

Julien let her words sit before leaning in and kissing you harshly. She was eager. Yeah she loved what you did to her, but she knew you were yearning for her touch. And you complied, melting into her. It wasn’t long until she had you pinned against the stump. She sat her knee between your legs and held onto your wrists. The kisses were short and needy. She needed to make you feel good.

She pulled away from you, “Can I?” she asked. Her eyes were hungry yet sincere. She wanted this badly but was able to stop if you didn’t want it.

You nodded instantly, “Please.”

Julien’s face lit up. She wasted no time attacking your neck. A soft moan left your mouth as she started to kiss and suck at your neck, undoubtedly trying to form marks. Her hands began roaming your body, finding their way to your chest. Your breathing got heavier as she started to pinch your nipples under your shirt and lifted your top, exposing your breasts. You wince slightly from the cold air as Julien started caressing the skin. Your hands found their way to her hair, your back arching to her touch. She wasted no time swirling her tongue around the hardened nipple. The action caused you to buck your hips and whine under her as she repeated the same action on the other side.

“Julien please,” you begged, trying to get friction from her leg.

She chuckled before removing herself from you to kneel under you. Julien took off your pants and underwear, pulling you toward the end of the stump. Her eyes flashed to you before attaching her mouth to your clit. Your jaw hung open, spewing moans and praises as she started sucking harshly.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck” you whined, bucking your hips to her touch. Julien hummed, resting her hands on your thighs, spreading your legs to give her better access. She switched between sucking on your clit and tounge-fucking your entrance. Her hips started to twitch against the stump as your moans got her off.

Julien pulled away for a moment and started to leave kisses on your clit, before putting your leg over her shoulder and attacking your entrance with her tongue from a new angle.

“P-please don’t stop” you whined, holding her hair harshly. From the new angle, her nose was pressed against her clit. Pushing you closer to the edge. “Julien, I-I’m so close,” you add, out of breath.

She decided to get you there as fast as she could, pushing her middle and ring finger into you, not skipping a beat. The feeling forces you to come shortly after, not being able to handle the overstimulation.

You cried out her name as you came down, removing her fingers from you. Your chest was heaving as she stood over you catching her breath as well.

“Fuck, Jay.” you manage to say, your legs trembling. You prop yourself onto your elbows, looking at the mess she left. Julien smiled, holding her hand out to help you up.

After getting up, you quickly put your pants back on and fixed your shirt. You looked at Julien who was rocking the ‘just had sex’ look and you knew you looked the same.

[whatsnewalycat]

No Strings Attached

Dieter Bravo x OFC Louella - Psychomanteum AU

[ psychomanteum masterlist ][ ao3 ]

WC: 2.7k+

Tags/Warnings: lua 2nd person pov, ghosts, psychomanteum au where they were together in spring, set after chapter 2, bickering, alcohol, drugs, addiction, ethan, anonymous sex mention, a boat load of sweeet sweet yearning folks

Notes: This is a doc I just found in my Psychomanteum folder. I think this is what I was originally writing for Chapter 3, but changed direction. Some of these conversations and prose proooobably got recycled into different chapters, but I can't remember. ANYWAY it's cute so I'm posting it as a Psychomanteum AU Snackie Poo (i'msosorryforsayingthatohmygod)

-----

Since Katie’s party, the two of you have hung out a handful of times, mostly with Parker, going out to a bar and having a few drinks. Between whatever actor things actors do while they’re in the city, he’ll sometimes text you to see what you’re doing, and what you’re usually doing is baking. 

It surprises you a little every time he comes over. Why would an exciting guy like this want to hang out in your apartment while you work? Not that you mind. The company is nice. Most of the time he’ll chat with you while he sketches and happily disposes of any defective product. Sometimes it goes quiet while the two of you concentrate on your respective tasks, but it doesn’t feel awkward. 

This is the modus operandi when Dieter slides his pencil it into the spine of his sketchbook and studies you, “Do you believe in ghosts?”

Out of breath from rolling out puff pastry dough, you look at him and pant, “What?”

“Ghosts,” he leans against the counter, pressing his thumbnails to his lips as he waits for your answer. 

You huff, setting your rolling pin down, and remember the picture frame on the spare bedroom floor. The face you imagined you saw in the mirror. Sometimes you hear noises in that room, but can’t bring yourself to investigate. The only time you enter the room is to get supplies, and even then, you speed run and don’t dare look up at the mirrors. 

“No,” you avert your gaze from his and turn around to wash your hands in the sink. 

“Wow, you’re a terrible liar.” 

You turn around and gape at him as you dry your hands, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“So you do believe in ghosts, got it,” he gives you a cheeky grin. You roll your eyes but don’t deny it. He leans forward onto his elbows again, “If I tell you something, will you think I’m crazy?”

“Dee, I texted you yesterday and asked if you think that Avril Lavigne is really herself or a body double. I don’t think I’m qualified to make any judgments on the sanity of other humans,” you toss the kitchen towel over your shoulder, then start folding the dough into layers. 

He tilts his head and frowns, then points at you, “I think you might be onto something there,” then shakes his head, “Ok, well…” 

His Adam’s apple bobs and his eyes flick to the spare bedroom door. You stop folding the pastry dough and stand up straight. A shiver runs down your spine. He gnashes his jaw back and forth, then takes a deep breath, “I see him sometimes.” 

You shake your head and search his eyes. Not out of confusion. You just don’t want him to say it. 

He slides his sketchbook across the counter, flipping it around so you can see what he drew. There, sketched in graphite on the creamy paper, is your husband. He’s standing in the open doorway of the spare room. The illustration is unruly, yet intricate. Your mouth falls open as you press your fingertips to his face, and you feel his sorrow. So much so, you flinch back and shake your head again, “Sorry, um, I–”

Dieter watches your eyes start to well with tears and his shoulders slump, “Fuck, no, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.” 

“Is he still there now?” you whisper, meeting his big, sad, brown eyes. 

They flick to the door and back to you, and he gives you a nod. Your stomach drops to the floor and the hair on the back of your neck stands up. 

“I need to leave,” you announce, throwing the kitchen towel off your shoulder onto the counter, then take off your apron and drop it on the towel, “Right now. I have to leave.” 

He stands up off the stool, pushing it out behind him, pointing to the puff pastry, “Should–I, uh, should I wrap that up?” 

“Um, y-yeah, put it in the fridge, thanks,” you walk around the counter and past him to grab your purse, shove your feet into your boots, then walk out the door and wait for him in the hall. 

He emerges while putting on his jacket, then you lock the door and start toward the elevator. The hall is silent except for the rustling of their clothes and footfalls. You slap the down button on the elevator and cross your arms. 

“He was trying to talk to you,” Dieter explains. 

You shake your head, “I don’t care.” 

“You don’t care?” he challenges. 

“Mhmm,” you nod, hitting the button again, harder this time. 

“Terrible liar,” he mutters to himself, then stares forward at the elevator doors. And he probably thinks he’s being funny. But it’s not funny. You don’t react. 

Once the elevator dings, you’re inside, pressing the doors closed button before they even open all the way. He steps onboard. They accordion shut. 

“Hey, sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out,” he tells you earnestly. In the foggy reflection of the stainless steel doors, you can tell that he’s looking at you. 

“Well, you fucking did,” you snap, and wish you could take the words and shove them back into your mouth. He faces forward and his gaze drops to his feet. 

The doors open and Dieter pushes out in front of you, storming out of the building. By the time you make it outside, he’s gone. A pang of guilt stabs through your chest. The cool, dewy air sticks to your skin and makes you shiver. You regret not grabbing a jacket, but start off towards your favorite hole-in-the-wall bar anyway. 

O’Malley’s is a dingy dugout bar about a block away from your apartment. It’s so dimly lit in contrast to the bright afternoon sun, you have to squint and go off of muscle memory when you walk in the door. On a Tuesday, during daylight hours, when the temperature outside is finally warm enough to melt the gritty snowpiles that have been accumulating for months, the establishment is essentially empty. One sad sap sits at the bar, jacket hanging off the back of his stool, staring down at the lowball glass clutched in his fist. He’s leaning onto the bar with a ringed hand propping his head up. 

You approach and pull out the barstool next to him, droning, “Hey there.” 

Dieter casts a glance to you with a raised brow, then scoffs when he recognizes you. He lifts the glass to his lips and empties it into his mouth, then pushes his sweater sleeves up to his elbows.

Nick, the portly bartender you see here frequently during the week, approaches, “The usual?”

“Yeah,” you nod towards Dieter, “I’ll get his, too.” 

“You don’t have to do that,” he sits back and pulls a wallet from his pocket, then throws some bills on the bar top, “I was just leaving.” 

Fucking hell. 

“Dee–” you reach out and touch his arm, and he turns towards you and stares expectantly. You chew on your bottom lip, dropping your gaze to the floor before sighing, “Please stay. I’m-“  

Nick returns with a whiskey neat and vodka cranberry, sliding them in front of you and Dieter before asking you, “Tab?” 

“Yes please,” you answer with a polite smile, then turn back to Dieter, whose scowl has softened, “C’mon.” 

He sighs and his shoulders release, then he relaxes back into the barstool. Neither of you say anything as you take a sip of the drink, then you turn to him, “I know. Like, um. I know that he’s there sometimes. But I don’t—“ you shake your head, “I don’t want to know.”

He sits up and leans his elbows against the bar, turning to watch you. You chew on your bottom lip and watch the ice cubes clink together as you stir your drink. 

“What was he trying to tell me?” you ask finally. 

“I don’t know,” Dieter frowns, “I couldn’t tell.” 

You saw Ethan cross into the threshold. Through some kind of an otherworldly osmosis, he was absorbed by the membrane that met the two of you at the end of the silent, iridescent wormhole. 

“Why would he come back?” you whisper, mostly to yourself. 

“Why do any spirits come back?” Dieter shrugs and takes a big sip of whiskey, “Unfinished business.” 

All you can think is that it better be a fucking apology. He owes you that much. Ethan was so fucked up that night. Did he even know what he was doing? Or had he been planning it? 

The man that woke you up in the middle of the night on Christmas and made you get into his car with the intention of totaling it… that wasn’t the man you married. You wonder how much coke he had really been doing in the weeks, maybe even months, leading up to the accident. Towards the end, it became commonplace for him to be out all night without explanation. 

He would stumble in at 7am, talking a million miles a minute, a sharp sniff interrupting his monologue every 10 seconds, hands trembling like your grandma’s when she started showing symptoms of Parkinson’s disease. When he finally crashed, he’d go to bed and sleep until the sun went down, where he would isolate himself for a day or two. Then he would go out to run orders to your clients and not come back until 7am. Rinse, wash, repeat. 

One night, when big, fat snowflakes were fluttering to the ground outside in big, he was standing in front of all the order boxes ready to go, making sure he had everything. You came up behind him and wrapped your arms around to his chest, laying your cheek against the back of his winter coat, “Can you come home tonight? I miss you.” 

“Baby, I’m with you all the time,” he chuckled, placing a hand over yours, rubbing his thumb against you affectionately. 

“That’s not what I mean,” you told him quietly. His thumb stopped undulating and his body tensed. Your heart was pounding in your chest when you finally admitted out loud, “I’m worried about you, Ethan. I think it’s becoming a problem again.” 

You let go as he stirred beneath your embrace, turning around to face you. His body only became more rigid, shoulders tensed up to his ears, jaw gnashing, as he assured you, “It’s not a problem. I promise. I’ll come home after dropping these off, ok?” 

He pressed his lips your forehead, sealing his promise with a kiss, and you mumbled, “Ok.” 

He didn’t come home until the next morning. You weren’t surprised. 

“You ok?” Dieter nudges you. 

A lie waits, ready to roll off the tip of your tongue. Instead, what comes out is the truth. 

“No. I don’t think so,” you take a sip and look down at your drink, “But, what can ya do?” 

“Mmm, I think I have something that could help,” Dieter mutters in a suggestive tone. Your heart skips, then you look at him and realize he’s pressing a joint up between his lips, “Wanna go for a walk?” 

This brings a smile to your face, but you protest, “I didn’t bring a coat, it’s still chilly outside.” 

The joint bobs as he frowns and grabs his jacket, “Use mine. I’m fucking sweating, anyway.” 

—

The passersby barely pay the two of you any attention as you stroll at a leisurely pace through the park, passing the joint back and forth. His sepia fleece jacket hangs down to your knees and keeps you almost too insulated. 

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, tasting the vapors of melting snow clinging close to the earth. The sunshine seems to melt away the foul mood you were in earlier. In your euphoria, you trip on a crack in the pavement, stumbling a bit. You steady yourself and giggle in embarrassment. 

“So glad you don’t have anyone following you with a camera right now,” you comment. 

Dieter plucks the roach from his lips, holds the intoxicating smoke captive in his lungs, and offers it up to you, “How do you know we don’t?” 

You scrunch your face up and make a full 360, scanning for any potential paparazzi, and shoo the roach away. He exhales and shrugs, then tosses it into a disintegrating snow pile, “I’m just kidding, I think I’m off their radar for the time being.”

“Yeah? Have you been a good boy, Dee?” you giggle. The way his whole body seems to perk up at the question is not lost on you. 

“Not so much that as I’m not the biggest shitheel in the media at the moment,” he smirks, looking you up and down through his sunglasses. 

You hum and nod, although you have no idea what he’s referring to, “Ah, yes. That one guy did that one thing.” 

He laughs, “There’s always another guy doing another thing. It never fails.” 

“Ol’ reliable,” you respond, then tilt your head in curiosity, “How is your divorce going, then?” 

“Boring, next,” he groans. 

“No no no, sir, you told me my dead husband is haunting my home today. Even the scales.” 

“Are you sure you’re not the press?” he raises an eyebrow at you. 

And, of course, it’s a joke. But that side glance gnaws at your gut the same way that Ethan’s narrowed eyes did. Looking at you like you’re an informant. 

‘I didn’t tell anyone about the ink, Lou.’

“What?” your shoulders slump. You come to a standstill, and stammer, “I wouldn’t–no, what?” 

He stops, too, and turns to you, “I’m just kidding, Lua.” 

“Oh,” you breathe a sigh of relief, “Ok. I’m not, um, trying to be snoopy.”

“You are way prettier than a cartoon beagle,” he smiles, then starts walking again. You catch up to him and try not to let the way your stomach flutters show on your face. It does. He smiles wider, then it fades to a frown as he shrugs and scratches his neck, “The divorce is going. Annie is staying at the house until it’s finalized, so I’ve been living out of hotels, which gets old,” a sly smile creeps across his face, “It is a little easier on the dating front, though. Living in hotels, that is.”

“Why’s that?” 

“Sex is just better in a bed. A little more room to work with than the bathroom of a club or the backseat of a car, you know? Plus, then they don’t feel like they have to leave right away.” 

“That’s probably why I prefer those places. Don’t have to stick around afterwards.” 

He grins at you, “Is that right?”

Something sparks at the middle of you when you look over at him and shrug, then he licks his lips and nods, looking ahead. 

“So you’re dating people?”

“I don’t think dating is the right term,” you frown, “More just, um… casual sex, I guess.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, “Since when?” 

“Does it matter?” you tuck your hair behind your ear and look down. 

“No, not at all,” he nudges you, so you look at him and see the good will on his face. “I just… Well, I’ll really kick myself if I could have been begging you to sleep with me this whole time.”

Your mouth is all of a sudden very dry. You blush and chuckle, then shake your head, “I’m looking for no-strings-attached situations.” 

“I am all about no-strings-attached,” he touches his fingertips to his chest and grins, peaking his bloodshot eyes over the rim of his sunglasses. 

“Mmm, no, see, we have strings,” you sigh, then count each of the following points on your hands, “I don’t fuck clients. Or friends. Or celebrities going through very public divorces.” 

Or people I have a big, giant, throbbing crush on.

“My heart,” he clutches the front of his shirt theatrically. 

You giggle at his reaction. The conversation dies momentarily, and the sounds of the city fill the cool air between you. You feel compelled to elaborate, “I’m not ready. With the dead husband and all that. I don’t want a pity fuck, or a goddamn significant other. I just want to get off, then I want it to be over. No strings.” 

He nods, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his pants, “No judgment here, m’dear.”

[staycalmandhugaclone]

Hello! If you are still taking Bingo requests, would you please consider doing "you're never going to believe this" with Hunter? All I can picture with this is that scene from Community with the guy walking in with the pizza to find utter chaos has broken out. I think it would be great with Doc but please do as you'd like. Thank you! :)

"You're not going to believe this" - CRB

Okay so maybe it was just the topic. Cranked this baby out yesterday, but was too tired to proofread, so yuh get a morning update!

If you're new, this all starts with Touch Starved!

Clone x Reader Bingo!

Warnings: Fighting, broken nose, blood, light medical procedures, mild guilt, bit of sexual tension, reference to bullying

WC: 3,797

“It’s actually been quite the subject of controversy among numerous scientific circles.” Tech didn’t bother looking up from his datapad as he rambled, food untouched on the tray before him as his leg bounced with an eager anticipation that shook the entire bench. “The planet has long been presumed to sustain intelligent life, but, despite several well-supplied scouting expeditions, not so much as a broken piece of pottery has been found to support that theory.”

“We’re not going there to search for new sentient species, Tech.” Echo reminded, words torn between a weary exasperation and the fond smirk touching his lips.

“It would be unwise to rule out the possibility of unknown lifeforms being responsible for the disappearances we are being sent to investigate.” The pilot rebuked, glancing up from the screen with a look of petulant determination that left me biting back a grin. As though only just remembering that we were in the dining hall after his meal happened to enter his line of sight, he absently reached out to take a quick bite of what I hesitated to call ‘pudding’ before returning to his research.

“Are there any other theories on what happened to the last two squads sent down there?” I asked, knowing he’d be only too happy to grant me everything known about our next assignment that was conveniently omitted from the mission report.

“The precious metals they were sent to find are notoriously difficult to detect with long-range scanners and have proven… troublesome in large quantities as their magnetic qualities can impair proximity sensors and even short-range coms.” My lips tensed into a thin line, just managing to refrain from letting my face twist into the fear that threatened to flood my veins with adrenaline, pointedly ignoring Echo’s apologetic cringe.

“So, they crashed.” I stated bluntly.

“Likely, yes.” He answered without hesitation, attention never wavering from whatever document had captured his interest. I drew a deep, slow breath before speaking again.

“Tech.” The crispness with which I called his name immediately pulled his gaze toward me. “I want you to lie to me and promise me you won’t crash the ship.” I stated with neither shame nor apology, carefully emotionless expression unchanged beneath the flash of confusion that stole through him.

“…That seems… counterintuitive…” He objected.

“Yup.” The word left in a quick chirp. I watched his jaw shift, as though testing various responses as his mind worked over what, exactly, I was asking for.

“I,” he started slowly, “am fully aware of the potential dangers, and, as such, will be far better equipped to anticipate and safely navigate any undocumented mineral deposits.” Echo turned purposefully toward his own meal in a vain attempt to hide his smile.

“Thank you, Tech.” He hesitated a moment longer, confusion almost worsened by my routine reply.

Even above the roar of countless soldiers conversing and squabbling about us, the bark of laughter rang with painful clarity. I didn’t try to keep from glancing toward it, but, the instant I saw the slump of Wrecker’s shoulders as he made his way towards us with his second tray of rations, the way his gaze seemed to carefully avoid looking anywhere he might accidentally meet someone’s eyes, sent my heart racing, blood warming beneath a quiet rage.

“Hunter and Crosshair still stuck in tha’ meeting?” He asked, vainly forcing some hint of nonchalance into his voice.

“Yeah; no word yet on when they’ll finish.” Echo answered, offering a sympathetic smile to his brother as the tall clone sat just opposite him at our table.

“It is unlikely”

“What did he say?” Despite the way those words left in a whisper, it was enough to silence Tech instantly. I felt the soft smile settle over my lips as I looked up to find Wrecker chewing nervously on his lip, searching for any excuse to dismiss my concerns. “What did he say, Wrecker?” I asked again in a gentle murmur. He finally gave a dismissive shrug.

“Nothin’, really… jus’ the usual ‘all brawns, no brains’ stuff – wasn’ even that funny.” He tried to brush it off, but he still wouldn’t quite look at me.

“Oh no.” I drawled in some pathetic mockery of remorse as I swatted the remaining half of my bowl of ‘veggie crisps’ onto the floor, “Guess I should get something to clean this up.” I was halfway across the room by the time they recovered enough to react.

“Uh… sh… should we…” Wrecker started, stammering slightly. The table with the man who’d insulted him all turned to me as I approached, each of them sporting some combination of curiosity and haughty excitement, some even blowing kisses. I said nothing as the one I was focused on turned to see what his brothers were staring at, offering no warning as my fist lashed out, driven by the full force of my body coiling behind the strike.

“Yeah – yup. Kriff.” I only vaguely heard the screech of chairs over Echo’s gasped reply as they jumped to their feet, but my focus was locked on the clone before me, on the rush of crimson flooding his lip and slipping between his fingers as he belatedly threw himself to his feet, reaction just slow enough for me to get another hit in. He nearly dodged it, but my knuckles still grazed his brow enough to split the skin.

“Not so clever now, are you?” I snarled, rushing forward in feint to punch him again. He swung his arm up to deflect it, granting me ample opening to slam my forehead into his already ruined nose. I didn’t hear the chorus of shouting around me. Someone grabbed my arms, hauling me back.

“Say it again!” I roared, thrashing in a vain effort to tear myself free, only vaguely noting that the man restraining me wasn’t one of mine. “Say it again! I’ll make sure you have to drink those damn ration bars for the a month!” A quick glance over my shoulder confirmed that Echo, Tech and Wrecker were straining to fight their way through the crowd of regs that swarmed the pathways between tables for a better view.

“Hunter, yuh might… might wanna get down here quick.” Wrecker’s voice carried easily over the deafening cacophony of shouts and jeers booming through the massive room. I couldn’t make out even the deep hum of Hunter’s reply, but nearly chuckled at what Wrecker said next, “Yeah… you’re not gonna believe this…”

The clone I’d struck finally regained his composure and stormed toward me, lips twisted into a scowl as he drew a sharp breath, but I didn’t care to allow him time for whatever attempt at a reprimand he intended. In a single, fluid motion, I careened my head back to crash into the face of the man holding me at the same time as I drove my heel down atop his foot. Caught off-guard by the assault, his hold loosened just enough to throw myself forward, tackling my target to the ground.

The violent huff of air being forced from his lungs was satisfying in a way few things are, but I allowed myself not even a moment’s pause to enjoy it before twisting to wrench his arm up, locking it between my thighs as I jerked his hand toward my chest, straining the elbow with just enough force to draw a bark of pain from him. I knew he was barely fledged, knew he likely wouldn’t even be fit to leave Kamino for several months, and I’d used that knowledge mercilessly. He was cocky and brash, and he was certain to underestimate me. Against a fully trained soldier, I’d have stood no chance, but one hindered by youth and overconfidence…

“Doc! Stand! Down!” Hunter shouted every word, forcing himself through the crowd toward me, and I almost felt some hint of remorse at the anger in his eyes. In the torrent of my own rage, however, I held the foolish soldier for just a moment longer. “Now!” He growled, stalking across those final feet between us. Only then did I notice how near the others were, hands flared, uncertain how best to help as they stared at me in shock.

Finally, I released him, making no move to stand as the clone threw himself clear of me, strained arm held tightly to his chest. Without a word, Hunter grabbed my arm and hauled me to my feet. I didn’t try to fight him as he turned and dragged me from the mess hall.

While our barracks was far from nearby, I was still slightly surprised when he veered away from it toward the hanger. Still, that silence lingered between us through each endless minute. His grip never left my arm, but, the instant we were out of sight of the others, his touch had softened into something I couldn’t bring myself to want to pull away from, allowing him to guide me through the maze of immaculately kept identical hallways, across the open expanse of the nearly empty hanger, and up the ramp into the relative privacy of the Marauder’s cabin.

The instant that ramp closed behind us, shrouding the room in a darkness the emergency lights did little to lessen, the instant we were hidden from wandering eyes, he wrenched me against him, arm locking around my back as his other hand tangled into my hair in a desperate embrace. I could feel the faintest shutter in the deep sigh the escaped him, felt the warmth of his breath flutter atop my scalp sending a flush of gooseflesh across my skin; felt his lips rest lightly atop the crown of my head as he curled subtly around me, and I couldn’t help but freeze.

“Are you okay?” The depth of concern in those whispered words left me staggering. His hand slipped free of my hair to gently cup my cheek, leaning back just enough to meet my gaze. “Are you okay?” he asked again.

“Y… yeah.” I was surprised to find how my voice caught, stammering slightly. “Hunter, I’m… I’m fine.” I tried to reassure him, reaching up to let my fingers trail softly over his wrist in an innate need to offer some manner of comfort in the face of his… what? Fear? Was he afraid?

He let out another deep breath, shoulders sinking as some of the tension coiling through his powerful form began to ease, but he didn’t pull away from me.

“When Wrecker said you’d gotten into a fight with a reg…” He started, trying, failing, to explain, but he didn’t need to say more. I knew what horrors plagued his memories of such things; knew why, even now, such a rift lay between his brothers and most every other clone born of Fett’s DNA.

“Didn’t think you’d find me torturing one in an arm bar?” I offered with a small smile, and he left out a reluctant scoff.

“No.” He admitted quietly, but then he fell back into that silence, jaw tensing as he thought carefully over his words before granting them voice. “You got lucky, Doc… and you know that.” An apology just lingered beneath the unmistakable accusation, and I couldn’t dismiss the way my chest tightened at the truth in his words.

“Yeah.” I whispered, refusing to turn away from him even in the admission of my foolishness because he and I both knew I didn’t regret it. I knew no clone would have killed me under those circumstances; however, one with more experience, one who’d seen the horrors of war and knew not to hesitate… His thumb swept slowly over my cheek, touch barely caressing my skin as though he were worried even that might break me.

With a final sigh, he stepped back, hands dragging against me greedily for those fleeting seconds of contact before turning his gaze toward the aft of the ship.

“Come on.” He murmured, already treading down the hallway. I paused for just a moment before following a few steps behind him. He’d already retrieved my scanner by the time we reached the medbay.

“Your hands.” He explained at my confusion. I glanced down, hands flaring out between us to find the skin atop several knuckles torn and smeared in blood that had long since darkened into a tacky coating already beginning to flake at the edges. Without waiting for me to get over that initial shock, he swept the device over them in search of fractures, and I didn’t need to read the results. The relief that stole through him confirmed little more than soft tissue had been injured.

“I can do that, Hunter.” Even as the claim left my lips, I knew it was useless as he gathered what basic supplies were needed to tend the minor wounds. He merely let out a quiet hum in response, already reaching for my left hand. Resigned, I merely watched in silence as he carefully cleaned away the blood before covering each knuckle in a fine layer of bacta and wrapped them with a precision that spoke of a lifetime of treating this exact injury.

When he let his eyes wander back to mine, he again brought his hand up to slide over my cheek, and I couldn’t dismiss the way my heart jumped, but then he drew a rag up to sweep over my forehead and I was briefly shocked to see the crimson stain the fabric, but then his brows drew together in confusion.

“Did you… You headbutt him?” He asked skeptically, and I couldn’t help the quiet laughter from escaping me. With another scoff, he dragged the cloth once more over my skin to rid the final traces of blood before releasing me.

“They changed the schedule. We’re leaving tonight.” He stated, absently cleaning up the mess of used supplies as he spoke. “Think you can finish restocking by then?” Swallowing back the lingering thrill from his touch, the chill I so wanted to pretend didn’t exist in that very moment he’d turned away from me, I had to tear my gaze away from those powerful hands before I could answer him.

“Yeah, that shouldn’t be a problem.” I replied, finally drawing some motion into my limbs to help him finish up.

“Alright; I’ll go fill the others in. We’ll meet you back here.” He paused after into a single step into the main hall. “No more picking fights.” The weariness in his voice nearly managed to silence my rebuttal. As I drew breath to argue, the hint of a glare that narrowed his eyes proved enough to stifle that final trace of rebellion urging me to justify my actions. Still, I granted myself a short huff of air in an unspoken rebuttal, and the way his shoulders shook beneath a nearly suppressed chuckle left my heart soaring.

-

The crate beside me was quickly filling up as I loaded it with various goods, mindlessly checking my list every few minutes to keep track of my progress. The sound of the door hissing open didn’t warrant even a fleeting thought. This was one of the main supply stores. It wasn’t uncommon to find numerous people in here at once. Only when that deep voice I’d heard countless times from countless faces breached the stillness of the large, cluttered room did I finally grant them any notice.

“Hey, you got a minute?” The innate openness in my expression as I turned to answer the clone instantly hardened upon recognizing the split eyebrow and freshly broken nose, but he quickly raised his hands in a plea for peace. “I’m not here to fight.” He reassured me quietly. I studied him in silence for a moment longer before letting my gaze soften slightly. I loathed the twinge of guilt that twisted through my chest at the painful swelling plaguing his nose, at the dark bruises stretching up his eyes, and I couldn’t bring myself to simply leave it. With a slow breath, I reached down to close the crate.

“Sit.” It wasn’t quite an order, but neither was it an invitation.

“What?” The word fell from his lips before his mind had fully processed what I’d said, and, without my needing to repeat myself, moved to obey me. Helping myself to the supplies around us, I began with his brow. While it had clearly been granted a rushed cleaning earlier, I addressed it as I would any wound until it was neatly sutured before turning my attention to his nose.

Whatever reason he’d actually sought me out seemed to vanish as he sat frozen beneath my ministrations, eyes just a bit too wide, breath just shy of shallow, pointedly trying to look anywhere but me aside from the accidental glance the left him quickly turning away, cheeks flushing.

“Do you know what chemical you can add to a droid popper to turn it into an incendiary grenade?” I asked without preamble, delicately palpating his nose with my thumb to gauge the severity of the break. The instant his attention shifted, mind flitting between focusing on my voice and thinking over the question itself, I quickly wrenched the cartilage straight, tucking a rag against it to catch the fresh surge of blood before he’d even finished biting back the sharp grunt of pain. I cocked my brow expectantly when he looked back up at me.

“Uh… n… no.” He finally muttered, clearly fighting the urge to grind his teeth.

“Hold this.” I instructed, shifting the cloth slightly. Once his hand replaced mine, I began applying a thick layer of bacta over the inflamed skin.

“Know who does?” I continued as though nothing had happened. I saw the moment understanding swept through him, and he yielded beneath the need to tense his jaw, gaze quickly dropping to the far corner of the floor. “What’s your position in your squad?” His tongue darted out to wet his lips, mind churning in a vain attempt to anticipate why I’d asked.

“Heavy gunner.” He answered, and I was surprised to find his voice free of resentment, to hear a softness in the following silence as he waited for me to speak.

“I assume you’re the only heavy gunner in your batch?” He nodded, glancing almost timidly up at me. “Having that specialty… do you think you make your squad stronger because of it?” There. Before I’d even finished the question, his eyes nearly closed, shoulders falling slightly. He was young and impulsive, but he clearly wasn’t as foolish as I’d initially written him off to be. Even as he reached the conclusion I’d yet to voice, he maintained that quiet, granting me as much time as I wanted to breathe life into some grand meaning.

“Wrecker’s quick thinking and kindness in addition to his strength have saved my life several times during this war.” I continued, carefully applying adhesive strips across the bridge of his nose to stabilize the cartilage while it healed. “If you hurt him again, you’re going to need more than a tube of bacta to patch you up.” I spoke those final words as a simple statement of fact as I stepped away. His head tilted down slightly in a useless attempt to hide the grin he couldn’t quite fight back.

“How’s the elbow?” His gaze flicked back up me to before turning to the joint. He briefly stretched it before answering.

“A bit stiff, but it’ll be fine by morning. That’s not the first time I’ve been caught in one of those.” He explained, and I could hear the smirk still playing with his lips.

“Good.” I chirped, “then get up – I still have work to do.” He didn’t move for a fraction of a second before quickly jumping to his feet.

“Um, I can… I can help.” He offered, “Least I can do since you spent all that time fixing me up.” I nearly turned him away, but I was in a bit of a rush. Just as I began to respond, however, his com chimed with an incoming message. The rueful look that he shot me left me rolling my eyes as I nodded toward the exit dismissively.

“Oh,” He called, pausing halfway through the door. “What chemical is it?” It took a moment for me to realize what he was asking, but then I gave him a halfhearted shrug.

“You’d have to ask him.” I answered. “I have no idea.” His grin fell for barely half a beat before returning with renewed vigor.

“I will.”

Mere seconds after he left, the door slid open once more. Brow hitched, I glanced up expecting to find that same clone returning, but was surprised to see Crosshair stepping into the room just enough to lean back against the wall.

“Flirting with regs, now?” The familiar rasp of his voice held the faintest hint of resentment that almost gave me pause.

“I swear, you’ve got to be the only person I know to mistake ‘threatening’ with ‘flirting’.” I nearly groaned before resuming my task.

“No mistaking his grin…” He retorted, and I could feel the unspoken words sitting like poison in his throat, but he forced himself to remain silent, instead reaching into a pocket to grasp a toothpick.

“Did you just come here to throw accusations around, Crosshair?” I sighed wearily, unwilling to devote the energy into bashing my head against a wall in some futile effort to change his mind.

“Hunter sent me a com; said I should keep an eye on you. Clearly, there was nothing to worry about.” He added, narrowed eyes shifting back to mine as he flicked the sliver of wood over his lips. Returning his glare, I roughly dropped the box of fresh bandages into the crate.

“If you want to be jealous and pouty, go ahead.” I sighed dismissively as I turned away from him. The silence lingered heavily between us, but I refused to grant him the satisfaction of yielding beneath it. When I finally finished my list and hoisted the crate up to lean against my chest, he finally spoke.

“Were you?” I paused midstep at the quiet question, shifting to find him staring blindly at some distant point past my hip.

“Was I what?” I pressed when he offered nothing more.

“Flirting.” I nearly dropped the crate.

“Uh, n… no, Cross.” I answered, cursing the heat crawling up my neck. Without a word, he pushed himself away from the wall and, with just a few long strides, tread towards me. I barely had time to think before he was pulling the box from my grasp and found myself staring dumbly at the broad expanse of his shoulders as he began walking down the hall. Forcing myself to draw a steadying breath, I followed quickly behind him.

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[sams-venting]

health update, I’m feeling better. Still not even at 20% but I’m better than I was yesterday. I managed to get some sleep after the insomnia and migraine settled.

I just still feel violated tbh. Year later and nsfw stuff that I wrote and drew of myself gets posted just to prove something that I myself said happened. It’s humiliating. I’m terrified of getting sexually harassed now due to this update to the doc

I didn’t consent to this. That stuff was meant to stay private. I haven’t done anything recently to deserve this stuff being posted now. I especially didn’t consent to this willingly being spread to minors to see. I wish I could do something legally. Both to my ex friends and the big blogs but I can’t due to personal situation. I want to send their asses to court for defamation of character. Get that restraining order and really shut them up. But if I did I would get doxed. My family would get doxed. I don’t think people really truely understand how dangerous it this is

minors being harassed. People’s and minors being slandered. Minors being sent porn and gore. Adults for gods sake are willingly giving minors trauma!! Those kids are going to grow up and have trust issues for life because of the big blogs. Because of the damn thumbnail artist! Because of the damn VAs willingly allowing soft grooming.

I don’t give a fuck if canon says it wouldn’t be considered Incest. The VAs make the characters call eachother family while people like the big blogs shove those characters into a relationship. It’s sub consciously soft grooming via normalization of family members getting romantic with each other. Saying it’s okay if you call someone your cousin but that person sees you in a romantic light then it’s okay! How is that not soft incest?! How is that in anyway okay to show to minors?! Minors who are still learning! Minors who’s brains are still growing! Fuck! It makes me fear that one minor who watches the show and watches fandubs of comics or what ever is actually in a abusive situation like their aunt or uncle or cousin is getting too close for comfort but the minor would think it’s okay due to what the fandom and VAs says is okay!!

I don’t want anyone to go through that, minor or not. I don’t want to have to fear that as even a possibility due to how large the audience of tsbs is. It’s terrifying!

.

[valorianknights]

This is a screenshot I took yesterday of a comment I made on AO3 and Oh my Rao! I had this fic bookmarked and I went back to read it.... Now I'm back to shipping Sanvers and Toybird again.

I'm looking through my Sketch books for some art that I drew of Snowie and Winn so I can post it tomorrow or as soon as I find them. Whatever comes first😊

I'm going to start drawing some Sanvers art since I'm feeling inspired ✨ and I think I found the author's Tumblr account and I immediately followed.

So.... @boldlyshamlessfangirl if you ever read this, THANK YOU SO MUCH for introducing me and then making me fall in love with Sanvers.

I had stopped watching supergirl after season 1 and only occasionally watched some episodes like the crossovers and all episodes with red daughter so, I didn't know I missed out on such a great ship.

I'm going to make so much fan art for your stories, because they're great. I'm going to go back and read your other docs right now.

ALSO. I CREATED A SHIP NAME. WHAT????

[stevenbasic]

“Knock-knock!” I heard at the door of my office, startling me. I was nearly - jesus - an hour into this video call with the Study Coordinator from Evolution, and had obviously lost track of time.  “Where’s my favorite patient?!?’ called the voice. It was Vida, my Nurse Practitioner, entering with a broad smile, a procedure tray and someone else and causing me to look up from my computer screen. “Time for your mediciiine…” In place of her usual white clinic jacket, she was wearing a tailored black jacket over a black, figure-hugging, dress, cut low.

Immediately I said my abrupt goodbyes to Gianna, over chat, and shut down the window right as she was, good lord, blowing me a kiss. At the same time I looked up and gave my wan smile of greeting to Vida and the generously curvy blond woman who’d entered with her…

“This is Morgan, if you two haven’t met yet,” Vida said, as she briskly approached my desk, high heels clacking. Trailing behind her a few steps was a woman in a white blouse and tan leggings - a big woman - broad of shoulder, wide of hip, huge of chest, standing taller than Vida by five or six inches...and myself even more, “She’s a Nurse Practitioner too, from Evolution until just yesterday, when she joined us.”

“It is very nice to meet you, Dr. J…” Morgan purred, in a voice deeper, richer than Vida’s. There was a queer smile on her face and a hint of a vaguely Eastern European accent in her words, one that she was obviously trying to hide. For now she was hanging back, taking her cues from Vida as the younger but more senior woman began to prepare her tray behind my desk to my left. “Nurse Vida is training me today how to take the care of you.”

“H-hi, uh, Morgan,” I replied, immediately sensing that that was not this woman’s given name, and remembering it was time again for my booster shot. The thought, for some reason, brought me a little thrill, remembering how it made me feel last week…but was it also responsible for the 8 pounds I’d lost since then? “But, um, what do you m-”

Interrupting my concerns, Vida chuckled. “Oh, don’t get worried, doc. I just figured that the more of us that know how to do this for you, the better,” she explained, opening the strange black box in which the vitamin B12/D/K booster vial was packaged. I noticed the familiar, strange blue tint of the liquid as Vida removed it along with the pre-packaged syringe. “And Morgan here has lots of experience.” At that, Vida nodded up at Morgan; the larger woman took that as a cue to move around the other side of my desk, to my right, and come to stand alongside me there. I was flanked.

“I-is that right, Morgan?” I asked, hearing the nerves starting to quiver in my voice. I hated needles, I hated them. But this single, combination shot was much better than three separate ones. “Wh-what did you do at Evolution?” I asked, not able to recall her resume as I looked up at her; she was gazing down at me, over the shelf of her formidable bosom. I was hoping that, if she had started seeing patients today, that she had been more buttoned up during the workday. The cleavage she was showing at this moment, over the neckline of her overmatched white blouse, was vast.

“At the Evolution Pharmaceuticals?” she replied, the accent in her voice unable to camouflage itself through the words, “There, I was with research team, taking care of study subjects. But before, I was in pediatrics ward, with preemies, the NICU.” She looked down on me with a crooked smile, and seemed to be resisting reaching out her hand to me. Instead, she ran her fingers through her shoulder-length blond hair. “I love holding little bodies.”

“Haha well, that’s exactly why we’re here, isn’t it, Dr. J?” Vida added, explaining to Morgan and pursing her full, plump, latin lips, “This young man has lost a few inches recently and we need to make sure he gets his vitamins.” With that, Vida beamed down at me and released  her thick mane of dark hair from the conservative bun she’d been wearing for the workday. A wave of the now-ubiquitous perfume in this place flowed over me, and I felt a stirring between my legs. I had been intermittently hard during my video call with Gianna - her tits were unbelievable - and I was afraid now that I might swell to some obvious, inappropriate monster of a boner with these women so close. “Lucky for him he has his girls to take care of him,” Vida concluded. The vial and syringe, for the moment, laid inert on the tray.

I tried to focus. ”I, heh heh, don’t know if I need someone to ‘take care of me’...” I spoke, trying to sound relaxed as Morgan’s left hand finally did come to rest on my right shoulder. I’d honestly just met this woman, but she was being very…familiar. Vida as well; she was generally a bit more aloof than she seemed today. It was like there was something weird in the air, something bringing them closer.

“That's silly,” Vida responded, “Even doctors need someone to look after them.” At that, she began to remove her black jacket, and laid it on my desk, as if preparing herself for her task. Underneath she wore a clingy black tube dress that hugged her hourglass figure and revealed her trim shoulders and the upper swells of her full chest; she watched as I struggled not to look at her body. “Who do you see for a PCP?”

“uh…” I began, trying to recall my last visit to a doctor’s office outside of this one, “…no one?”

“You mean…” Vida asked with exaggerated concern, as she herself put a hand on my other shoulder, leaning in to me and twirling a lock of thick, raven hair, “you don’t have a Primary??”

“N-no I, uh-“

”Well, that’s no good,” Vida concluded, standing straight and looking across me at her fellow nurse, “Don't you agree, Morgan?”

”Oh yes,” Morgan concurred, her dimpled smile betraying her amusement, stepping a touch closer, “You need the primary...care...provider.”

“That settles it,” Vida decided, removing her right hand from me to place both it and her left one on her broad hips, in determination, “I’m going to be your PCP from now on.” Her action had drawn my eyes to her remarkably tiny waist and shit this girl had some curves. “I’ll contact our insurance company, do all the paperwork. How does that sound?”

The big woman to my right was giggling, and her hand had begun to idly caress my shoulder.

“Uh, th-that’s fine…” I agreed.

“So,” Vida finally asked, with a wry smile, “does my patient have any questions before we get started?”

Ugh, right…the injection. “Well, um, honestly…” I began, knowing I should at least address the concerns I had over this combo B12/D/K formulation, “I’m not sure it’s working. I think I’ve lost weight since last week, and even maybe almost an inch…”

“That’s ridiculous. You must have measured wrong last time, used a bad scale,” Vida replied, trying to reassure me, “But…do you think you need to go out and get checked..?”

At that, Vida herself moved in closer, and I saw Morgan, to my right, turn her thick body more towards me. Both women looked down at me.

“Or do you want to let us take care of you..?” Vida finished. It felt like a challenge, and I sensed something, an inner struggle inside myself. The logical, intelligent practitioner who cared for his health wanted to answer one way, bring a halt to something that was dangerous, possibly ruining my life. But another part of me, the one that was feeling the cock growing once again down my right thigh in tribute to the ever-more enveloping warmth of these women, just wanted to say-

“n-no…I think I’m alright,” I answered, “let’s go ahead with the shot. I’ll be fine.”

If I had known then what I know now, that my mental capacity for rational thought in the face of arousal had been already crippled by foreign agents? If I had known that I was being purposefully enslaved, drowned more and more every day in the sea of pheromones and womanly curves in which I swam? WelI, I would have run screaming. Or, then again...would I?.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Vida assured me. Her voice had dropped low, almost hypnotic, “You don’t need to go out and see any other specialists. We’ve got everything you need right here…” She was beginning to prepare the injection, now, drawing the blue liquid from the vial up into the syringe.

“Yes, everything,” Morgan agreed, looming over me now so close to my right, her hips and belly blocking out the world behind her. Her scent was warm, earthy. Between it and Vida’s reassuring tone, I felt powerless to do anything but trust these women.

“But,” Vida began again, inspecting the now-filled glass syringe, “if you are still shrinking, lots of guys would be jealous. Don’t you think, Morgan? Here, take this-” She handed a band-aid across me to her fellow nurse.

wh-what?

“Oh, yes,” Morgan concurred, her voice husky, unwrapping the band-aid, preparing it, “very jealous.”

”What…what do you mean?” I asked, confused, looking from one woman to the next, up at them. Without even being told, I had begun rolling up my sleeve.

Vida chuckled. “Oh, you know, the whole ‘vulni-chic’ thing,” she answered, holding the prepared injection now in her right hand, “you’d get very popular if you lost another-“

“One meter?” Morgan said, giggling in her deeper, richer tone, “Two?”

“haha I’d disappear…” I joked, feeling a wave of warmth coming from Morgan’s body to my right, “just like, haha…”

“It’s not a joke, Dr. J,” Vida said, her voice plain, suddenly, clinical, “it’s a thing. Here, get ready-“

“Ouch!!!”

She’d jabbed me, in the left shoulder, with the shot.

Vida spoke as she pressed the plunger, pushing the blue liquid into my deltoid. “It’s not just a fad for women, guys these days are admitting it, too…” she said as she drew the needle out of my arm. Immediately I’d felt it entering my body, like a milky warmth. “Good boy,” she praised, “Band aid?”

“Thanks,” I replied without thinking, watching as Morgan leaned her big torso across me as I turned in my chair towards her, presenting my left shoulder. She was nearly smothering me with her big breasts as she applied the bandage, and I did everything I could not to goggle at the wobbling flesh of her full, tan cleavage. My roving eyes made me realize that this generously endowed woman was wearing a very thin bra, or possibly none at all. Somehow, though, she was still so firm, with a natural buoyancy that kept her tits high and proud on her chest. My gaze could not get enough. But then eyes fluttered as I was assaulted by both an overwhelming breath of her perfume and the first rush of pleasure from the shot. I began to lower my sleeve, rubbing my arm as I looked up at her, smiling down at me as she finally stood up and away.

“I mean it, with the shrinking,” Vida started again, watching me with an appraising eye as I recovered from my shot, buttoned my sleeve, “have you seen Melissa’s new Instagram post?”

With the butterflies? I didn’t want to admit anything.

“The guys that follow her, the simps,” she continued, “they talk about wanting to be like bugs, crawling into her breasts.” She was replacing the syringe, carefully putting it and the vial back into the box. “It’s all over the place, everywhere, though no ones really talking about it yet,” she said, as she closed the black container, “guys wanting to be smaller, weaker than us. Wanting to become inferior, more passive, more submissive.”

She looked down at me and smiled, watching as the effects of the injection began to take hold. Even more strongly than last time, I was being gripped by a pleasant wave of lethargy, relaxation.

“Guys want to be small, these days,” Vida said, “and we’d like it that way too, wouldn’t we, Morgan?””

To my right I heard Morgan purr, a little grunt. “Yes, Nurse Vida,” she said, her voice low and struggling with arousal, “we would like it very much.” I had the feeling she was holding back her true feelings, in restrained understatement.

Vida laughed, casually. “It’s weird, all these changes in gender dynamics,” she continued, brushing a lock of my hair behind my left ear, “the new thing is bigger women, smaller men. Here, look at Morgan, perfect example…”

I turned, looked up at the smiling behemoth of a woman.

“She’s probably bigger than you ever were,” Vida continued, “taller, heavier, thicker everywhere.”

“Yes,” Morgan agreed, seeming to rise up, grow bigger, heavier, right in front of my eyes, “I weigh much, much more than the you.”

“And, you have to admit…” Vida asked, watching me look up at the huge, busty blond woman, who was now absolutely dwarfing me in my seat and could probably lift me like a child, “that’s kinda sexy, right?”

“I, uh….” I began, not knowing what to say. My erection was getting painful, now, contorted as it was in my pants, trying to stretch down my right thigh.

Vida spoke again, now holding my head in place by my cheek and jaw, so all I saw was Morgan. “So, even if you are getting smaller...lots of us would like that.”

I sat there, in the building afterglow of my injection, and looked at this woman’s body. It was, in all ways, so much bigger than my own. Thicker thighs, wider hips. Her arms were stronger than mine, her shoulders broader. Standing aside her, I would look puny. Even Vida - though she stood roughly my height, maybe an inch or two more - her hourglass figure and womanly hips made her body just that much more than mine.

”Dr. J,” Vida said, pulling me from my reverie, but not releasing my face from her hand’s gentle embrace, “You look like you need to go lay down. We’d take you up to bed ourselves but we have an important girl meeting to get to, don’t we Morgan?”

“Yes,” Morgan replied, though never taking her eyes or dimpled smile from me, “Very important.” I watched as she looked down on me, regarded me, considered me. “But I promise. Next time you can go to the sleep in my lap,” she said, “I have a very nice lap.” With that, Morgan bent at the waist a bit, to gently slap her prodigious thighs. My eyes watched them jiggle, and then her hands come up to the collar of her blouse, hoisting her breasts. “Or, if not on lap, we find somewhere else…”

“Haha okay,” Vida laughed, finally releasing my head but smiling as I didn’t turn away from the cleavage into which I was now dumbly gazing, in my vitamin-fueled haze imagining myself sinking into it like a caterpillar, cocooned in womanly warmth. “I’ll get a couple of the MA’s to get you upstairs…”

=========================================

more Vida & Morgan imagery, more posts, more more more at my Patreon.

Thanks for reading, everyone.

[inkdemonapologist]

Jack had a long day after session 10.... Sammy’s gonna let him sleep.

[batim call of cthulhu masterpost]

(and a bunch of out of context quotes under the cut!)

[Sammy is played by me, Joey is played by Boo (inkyvendingmachine), Henry is played by Maf (inkcryptid), Jack is played by Mochi (whatyouwantedmetosee) and Thren (haunted-hijinxer) is our GM!]

[Sammy] Despite last session being PRIMARILY planning, we do not actually have a plan!!!

[Joey] How quickly... can Joey Drew learn... a time control spell... so that we can try ONE of our plans, and if it doesn't work, we can just go back in time and-- [Sammy] Joey, don't-- don't start that, Joey. That's not going to end well. [Joey] IT WORKED BEFORE! [Sammy] YEAH, I KNOW, but I think it's a bad plan! You're gonna have, freakin, "This cartoon didn't do as well I wanted, let's back up! Let's back up, and see if we can make some small changes! BENDY MUST BE PERFECT!" [Joey] This is how Sillyvision actually comes about! [GM] Are you saying... are you saying you aren't comfortable with Joey Drew trying to loop time? [Sammy] YES! That is what I'm saying! I don't think that should happen, I think that will end poorly for those of us who have to participate in Time!

[Sammy] Sammy would not be against bringing it up, but if Jack's like "UH I don't even know if that's possible for me to do, I did it by accident" then he won't, like, push. [Joey] Joey's not going to push, but he's going to be very supportive that you can do anything you set your mind to!

[Jack] Sammy has guns! Just not those ones. [Sammy] Correct. Yes.

[Joey] Prophet did not seem affected by it, at all. [Sammy] *sarcastic laugh* Alright. Fantastic! [Joey] So, I guess I'm letting you know this, not just if you accidentally come across some paint, but if you find yourself having trouble dealing with things, you might be able to use that-- [Sammy] Sammy is GLARING. [Jack] Jack is also giving Joey a look at this! "If you're having trouble, just try drugging yourself!" That sure is, a coping mechanism!

[GM, speaking for Bendy] He does think the Prophet can be a little overzealous, but he's definitely good at getting stuff done! Maybe not the best stuff, but... stuff! [Sammy] Are you sure? He's been trying to sacrifice somebody to the Masked Messenger for like, a year, and it hasn't been working!

[Joey] He could've started trying to fall asleep on the drive over! [Jack] Yeah but then he's going to end up astral projecting on the road! Halfway there! Just watching his body drive away!

[Jack] He's technically gotten the information he was looking for, which is: there are still people in the building, not very many,... He also gained the information: more than Moonlight can see people who are astral projecting,... he gained: Pain, [Jack] All in all I think this was a successful trip!

[Sammy] I'm just so pleased that Sammy is foiling Moonlight all over the place, and generally being very obnoxiously in the way, and Sammy can't even come out that much. [Sammy] Like, he's only existed in his Prophet Form like three or four times! If he could be here as much as Moonlight is here, he would-- tHE MASKED MESSENGER WOULD BE HERE ALREADY. [GM] *laughs* The only thing holding him back. [Sammy] Yes. The only thing holding him back: sometimes he turns into a much more reasonable person.

[Sammy] (Sorry for being so enthusiastic about this, but I'm really enthusiastic about this.)

[Joey] Now that he has a description of the kinds of runes, does Joey know any way to disrupt it? [Henry] I know of a way to disrupt it. [Jack] Last time Henry tried to disrupt something he actually strengthened it, so, [Henry] Okay but this--! But-- okay, yeah, point taken.

[Henry] Basically what happened is, I smeared my blood on one of the symbols-- [Sammy] WHY

[Sammy] You could write "found this," or, if you have room-- [Joey] "We know how to get your family" [Sammy] Y-, mm, that sounds, a little bit ransom-note-y,

[Jack] "Place $1000 1 Slick Stone in an unmarked package under the third tree if you want to see your family again" [Sammy] I think you mean 75 dollars

[GM] Norman is picking through the room; he does find a freaky bone whistle thing, and a weird cold crystal, and some chalk, and a blooodyyyy knife??? Question mark??? [Joey] Well, might as well grab that, [Henry] Yeah, Henry wants that back! [GM] --and a jar with yellow paint in it-- [Joey] ...you can leave the jar with yellow paint in it. [Jack] But the Prophet wants that back!

[GM] He does pretty quickly go "Hey, I know this model!" and some tinkering noises ensue. [Joey] Okay, yeah, take that too! [GM] "I... I can't carry this," he says, "not without a handcart." [Joey] I mean, if he---.... wait, what. [Sammy] (Projector.) [Joey] OH I thought he found the gun. I forgot there was a projector in there. [Joey] Norman, focus!

[Sammy] If Joey would take it, go for it. [Joey] Joey is more interested in Moonlight's stuff than Fowler's stuff. He's trying to get Fowler on their side. [Jack] As a counterpoint, I, personally, as a player, am very curious!

[Henry] Moonlight and Sammy play duelling banjos at each other. [Sammy] That hasn't been written yet, they can't! [Henry] Moonlight and Sammy accidentally invent duelling banjos.

[Joey] Okay, Joey's going to continue to hide in the closet. [Henry] Didn't we say we were going to flicker the lights when we got up to this room? [Joey] Oh yeah. Joey said he was going to do that but he's... not going in there. [Henry] He's not out of the closet yet.

[GM] Norman got a very good mechanical roll and gets the set-up going quite promptly! [Joey] We should hire this guy!

[GM] No, it doesn't look like it helps Jack. [Sammy] No healing for Jack :( [Joey] No healing in Wonderland. (several players start yelling) [Sammy] And now we've discovered everyone in this group who has listened to The Adventure Zone!

[GM] Norman probably makes a joke about "Oh, so you do sleep!" [Joey] When we can. [Sammy] Not often. [Jack] *laughs* Animation, amiright? [Jack] Anyway, so do you wanna work for us?

[Jack] Jack's just getting all of the insanities. [Joey] I want some too! Stop hogging them!!!

[Sammy] So has this just all... come to you? [Henry] Some of it! [Sammy] *narrows eyes* [Henry] Some of it I know what I'm doing! I can use my blood in runes and stuff, but other stuff like blasting the angel, that just... happened. [Sammy] You're as bad as Joey. [Henry] (He looks a bit sheepish at that.) Honestly? I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to get told off. [Sammy] Not sure I have the energy tonight. Let’s rain check on that.

[Sammy] *suspicious* Are you alright in there? [Bendy] Joey did somethin' dumb, but I think we're okay! [Joey] You didn't need to tell him that. [Bendy] Well, we are okay, right? Henry was doin' this yesterday and he's okay! [Sammy] ...what [Henry] What? [Joey] DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT! [Bendy] It's okay when it's just a little, right? [Sammy] WHAT ARE YOU DOING? [Joey] I found a cool rock... [Sammy] BENDY, WHAT IS HE DOING [Bendy] Washin' blood off his face! [Sammy] Hm. [Joey] (There's just the thunk of Joey letting his head hit the sink). [Sammy] Sammy has decided not to ask any more questions.

[Sammy] I love the idea that Prophet's like SO LASER-FOCUSED on his hatred of Doc Moonlight, that that's all that Sammy can remember. They're summoning an elder god's avatar in the background and all Sammy can remember is BOY, I HATE THAT GUY!

[Sammy] I think he's going to focus on trying to remember as much as he can, because Joey's gonna give him the Joey version, [GM] You can make another POW roll if he's trying to remember. [Sammy] Oh.... *starting to roll dice* I don't know if you should do this, Sammy... [Sammy] .....96. No. [Jack] He fumbled, [Joey] He fumbles and forgets more??? [GM] No, no, you remember the things you don't want t-- OKAY NOW YOU REMEMBER THE RITUAL!!! [Sammy] OH!! GREAT!!!

[Henry] *coming back online after the session is done* I have something important to share! I got home and got on as quickly as possible to share! [Sammy] Uh huh? [Henry] I realised that Norman should ABSOLUTELY be having out of body experiences too. Because I mean. HE IS THE PROJECTIONIST! [Joey and Jack] *start laUGHING HYSTERICALLY* [Sammy] Oh My Gosh

[Jack] I can't believe that Jack's next Astral Projection Dream is going on a date with Norman. Add to the boyfriend collection! [Sammy] When do I get to astral projection dream date Jack??? [Jack] You were busy astral projection dream dating Joey! [Sammy] Yeah, he looked nothing like his profile picture.

[freshthoughts2020]

MY JOURNEY TO NO WAY HOME

MY JOURNEY TO NO WAY HOME

Yesterday, I finally saw the year’s most anticipated film, Spider-Man: No Way Home.  After foolishly browsing the internet while the swarms of spoilers were released into the atmosphere, I actively avoided spoilers and got the experience I longed for.

Man It turned out to be worth every ounce of excitement I put into this damn movie. I purposely saw it in a big theatre, wore some WLCM, and brought in my favorite snack to enjoy this cinematic masterpiece.

But how about we start this from the beginning?

So when No Way Home news first started we knew Doctor Strange would be involved and would kind of play a Tony Stark-esque role to Peter. Which Peter desperately needed another mentor figure in his life after the death of Mr.Stark. (Damn R.I.P. Tony we miss you my boy).

Anyways that’s all we had until that trailer dropped. Oh my lord that first trailer dropped and I lost my muffin top beloved. Besides the usual spider action, we saw classic Spiderman villains, Doc-Ock and at the end we saw one of the Green Goblin’s bombs!

Holy smokes! That trailer impacted me so much I had to make a song about No Way Home. I even drew myself in a spider suit for the single cover. At this point I’m all in Spiderman. 

So the anticipation builds and builds. I start hearing talks that Tobey McGuire and Andrew Garfield may make an appearance in the film. However both parties denied their appearances and I was left with nothing but speculation.

Anyways another trailer drops and now I realized the Jamie Foxx’s character will be returning which give me more hope for Multiverse Madness!!(no pun intended). 

Finally, its release week! This movie is going so damn crazy people tried to sale opening day tickets for 10K beloved, 10K! If I ever spend 10K on movie tickets please slap me with the biggest Thor Hammer you can find in the multiverse. 

Knowing this is the biggest premiere of the year my main mission was to avoid the damn spoilers at any costs! I couldn’t stop using the internet for business purposes so I just tried to avoid certain pages, although I probably could’ve muted certain words but I didn’t feel doing that.

So I made it my mind, I’m seeing No Way Home opening week. I wanted my haircut, I wanted to wear a WLCM hoodie that featured the webslinger, and I wanted to watch it in a packed theatre for reactions to special scenes.

Lord and behold I got exactly what I wanted. My barber hooked me up to the heavens, my WLCM hoodie was nicely pressed, and the theatre reacted gloriously! *SPOILER WARNING!!!* 

Especially when Andrew and Tobey was revealed, I literally screamed “Oh Shiiiiiiiiiitttt”. Man it was so hype beloved. I left the theatre so satisfied. I wanted to make a whole soundtrack but I didn’t have the time. I’ll still probably make one more song inspired by the film though. 

But there it is loved one, my journey to No Way Home was like a kid’s. Nothing but excitement that didn’t even leave me disappointed. Zendaya’s character said “Expect disappointment not to be disappointed.”However, expected the exact opposite and got exactly what I wanted!

Visit gettothecorner.com

Follow me on twitter @onlyonejaevonn 

[kikilefangirl]

Worthy of Admiration

Bucky Barnes x Reader

(Word Count: 1644)

As you pulled up to your apartment complex, nothing was seemingly out of place.

Miss Marcia sat next to her open window watching the neighborhood kids run through the grass. Suge and his boys from down the way whistled as you walked past. The usual.

But as soon as you made it up the steps, you paused. Something didn’t feel right. You were suddenly more aware of the knife burning a hole in your pocket.

“Monty!” You called out and he came almost immediately.

“Take these to your Mama, tell her it was no problem.” You said. You didn’t hear his reply.

You hand him your grocery bags, never taking your eyes off of your apartment door further down the hall. You take light, cautious steps. Turning your key with one hand, you rest the other on your knife.

As soon as the door clicked, a metal hand reached for your throat. You sidestepped, feeling the air whizz past you. You lunged at your attacker, but he was fast. His flesh arm reeled back, landing a harsh blow to your side. You slashed his forearm before he could get to you fully.

It caught him off guard long enough for you to kick him in the ribs. It gave you just enough time to retreat to your kitchen. A collection of knives and guns awaited you.

You were prepared for a moment like this.

You focused your energy, calling out all the weapons in your possession. A dagger whistled towards you and you caught it in mid-air. A dagger to go with your knife. The metal man was on you, his gun in hand.

You threw the dagger, digging it in his shoulder. As soon as you let it fly, you focused on his gun, you could feel its mechanics and jammed it from where you were.

Your knife clattered to the ground in the process, though. Hand to hand then. A block. Metal hand incoming. Dodge. Dishes and plates rocked and clashed all around you.

You matched his pace blow for blow. Learned his movements. He favored no arm or leg, not even the metal one. Military grade equipment. Very well trained.

You noticed the details. You were holding your own against the stronger, faster, bigger man solely because of the details of his weaponry. That was your mutation. Weapons. The strategy was purely years of training.

Then you slipped up. The sound of children laughing and running up and down the hall took you by surprise.

No, don’t come up here, you wanted to scream.

As soon as your attention drifted from him, the man seized the opportunity. He had his hands on your throat. You were slowly sinking and black spots dotted your vision.

Just then, another man busted through the door, and pushed your attacker off of you. The two wrestled on your living room floor, but you couldn’t keep your eyes open.

Then everything went black.

                                                        ...

“A fake ID, no prints, and an arsenal of weapons in every room.” Natasha sounded off. She stared at your sleeping form through the observation deck in the Tower’s Med Bay.

Bucky frowned at that. The mystery woman he’d gone after and attacked as the Winter Soldier. The details were fuzzy, but he remembered some parts. From what he gathered, she lived completely off the grid. For good reason if she had Hydra out to get her.

Tony swaggered into the room, and made a beeline for Steve, whose worried gaze alternated between Bucky and the woman. He was used to the stares from everyone; he deserved them.

“Spangles, for some reason Terminator over there-,”Tony gestured to Bucky on the opposite end of the room, “almost you know, to our Jane Doe and here’s the best part, minimal damage.”

His words hung in the air, and Bucky drew his lips in a tight line. He found his own gaze drifting towards her, full of concern. He rubbed his temple.

“What are we looking at, here?” Steve let out at last. Bucky scolded himself for not asking that question himself.

Reality sunk in when no one could answer him.

                                                        ...

“You took a lot of hard hits, yesterday.”

At the sound of the deep voice, your eyes fluttered open against the harsh white light. Hospital. You tried to sit up all the way, but a metal handcuff bit into your wrist. You grimaced and finally looked up and the man.

You tried to scramble backwards at the sight of your attacker, but you were still cuffed.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” The man backed away and held his hands up.

You made no moves, but watched him carefully. His metal hand was still very much a threat. You ghosted a hand over the bruise it gave you. You took a ragged breath and licked your lips. Chapped. If not for the morphine drip, everything would hurt. Nope. You were in no condition to deal with the outside world. If you left, now, you were as good as dead.

“My name is Bucky. I’m sorry I attacked you,” He started.

It seemed genuine, but as you thought back to Metal Man, you realized who he was and why he was so familiar. The Winter Soldier. Hydra. You tried not to make a face.

“I wasn’t in control of myself. You’re safe, you’re at Avengers’ Tower.” He said frantically.

Holding your body weight up for so long on your own was beginning to take a toll. You opened your mouth, but no sound came out. You swallowed hard. It hurt the roof of your mouth because it was so dry, like sandpaper.

You spied a glass of water on the nightstand next to you, so you reached for it. You came up short, but luckily enough Bucky picked up on your actions. He handed you the water and helped you get back in the bed.

You guzzled it down as soon as it touched your lips. Not long after did a familiar voice chime in.

“Well shit, I thought I taught you better than this.”

Both your heads snapped up to see none other than Nick Fury at the door. In a flash, a butterfly knife was sailing through the air. You willed it away from Bucky’s head, and chose to lodge it on the handcuffs.

The chain snapped and you sat up. The pain in your ribs flared, but at least you weren’t chained to the bed anymore.

“Wanna trade, old man?” You said, rubbing your wrist.

Fury let out a laugh and squinted with his good eye. You picked up your clothes, and scoured through the bag they were in.

“And you two...know each other?” Bucky jumped in.

“Oakland. I was seven. Mutants don’t get to live squeaky clean, especially young black ones.” You told them.

You soften at the mention of your younger self. How young and vulnerable you were when Fury found you. You’d been on Hydra’s radar ever since, running ever since.

Your grip on your bag of clothes tightened. You’d had a run in with the Winter Soldier before. You got lucky, back then. And again, it seemed. You bit your lip.

To his credit, Bucky noticed your change in mood.

“Stay here.” He suggested. You met his apologetic eyes. He was serious about you staying, and making up for what he did.

“If I wanted to be a part of a group, y’all wouldn’t be my first call, no offense.” You said. Fury scoffed and his good eye narrowed into a slit. He didn’t comment, though.

You were a mutant who wanted to live your life on your terms, not as a spectacle. You let out a sigh.

“When the doctor clears me I’ll be a ghost.” You stated. You were more so talking to Bucky than Fury. He knew full well you weren’t a team player.

“Next time don’t get rusty,” He called out, tossing you a wad of cash. You nodded in thanks, but Fury just waved his hand and walked out. That was just how he was.

It was just you and Bucky, again.

For how massive he was, the man had an innocence about him, it was almost childlike. But there was years worth of weariness, too. And guilt. A product of Hydra, and decades of a corrupted purpose as the Winter Soldier.

You decided Bucky was a weary man who was doing his very best to live in spite of it all.

“Cheer up, comrade,” You told him with a hand on the crook of his neck, “You’ll still have me for a few more days. Until the doc clears me.”

You shot him a dazzling smile and laughed to yourself when he turned a bright pink. He stammered through his reply so much you felt bad, and let him be.

But as he got up to leave, his eyes dulled. He really wanted you to stay and redeem himself for his actions. You couldn’t say it wasn’t admirable.

You twirled the knife in your hands, in one combination after the other. Bucky had blown up your hiding spot. Hydra was without its best asset and would probably be gunning for new ones. People like you.

You clicked your tongue. You could do with a life fully funded by Tony Stark himself, in the most secure building you’d ever been in.

“It’s too hot out there for me, right now. I might need a place to stay until it’s safe to move.” You said.

Bucky nodded and gave you a small smile.

“Can I ask your name, now?” You blinked at the question.

You’d lived so long without anyone, that you hadn’t even considered revealing any true information about yourself. No introductions, no goodbyes. Bucky could probably relate to that.

“Y/N.”

It felt good to say your name out loud. You surveyed the room around you. The faces of the men and women pretending they weren’t watching your exchange with Bucky.

You tilted your head and surveyed your new knife. Your nostrils flared at your collection left behind in your apartment. Oh, you’d be staying alright.

Reeling back you threw the weapon at your observation window. Successfully sticking, the knife was directly in line with Tony Stark’s head, if not for the window.

“Stark! I want my knives back!”

[enigmainvestigations]

AO3 post: ???    Series link: ???

Some of the paint was chipping off the mural. Its massive length spanned almost the entire wall of the walkway, making it almost fifteen feet long. The painting was rather crude in its depiction of the island, juvenile, as if it was created by an unskilled artist. Most of it was large blue strokes to represent water, with a large slab of green floating in the middle in an attempt to resemble the island. Blots of green brush strokes depicted trees, with blue four-leafed flowers speckling the landscape. The island was void of any buildings, except for a tiny mansion perched on the top of the green blob. At least the artist hadn’t taken too much liberty with the scale and hadn’t tried to make the mansion appear much larger than it should. There was tiny writing next to the mansion. It read: "Gotham House of Madness and Ill Humors"

Edward Nigma took a step back from the mural and concluded that perhaps it wasn’t supposed to be some beautiful depiction of a rich family’s property. But it did seem odd. What was the point of the mural if it was only going to be a slab of green painted over a slab of blue? And that begged the question: why was it painted at all? He tilted his head to look down the walkway to the mural’s end and heard someone call his last name from the hall behind him. They were far away, and he decided he didn’t need to hurry with his examination. Looking down to the other end of the mural, he saw there was a tiny blotch in the water, and Edward assumed it was supposed to be a boat. Strange to paint only one, he thought.

“Nigma.” The voice called again. This time it was much closer, and followed by the sounds of heavy footsteps advancing in his direction. They slowed as the orderly drew nearer and came to a stop at his side. “I know you heard me calling you. If ya wanna know what I think, that’s not the best way to start your first day in the wing.”

Edward ignored him and lifted a finger to point at the mural. “I’ve never seen this before.”

The orderly looked at the mural and shrugged. “Welp, you’ve never been in this wing before.”

“Doesn’t it seem strange to you?” Edward asked.

“Out of all the strange things I see in this building, it’s probably on the least strange side a’ things.” The orderly shifted his feet and waved a hand in front of Edward’s face to break his concentration on the painting. “You can stare at this later, alright? Dr. Leland wants ta see you.”

Edward found that odd. He had spoken to her yesterday morning, and she had implied it’d be a while before they’d speak again. A chime broke out over the loudspeakers, signifying the guard shift change. Edward let out a deep sigh and turned toward the orderly, noting the slight show of fear in his eyes. “Alright then, ready when you are.”

The man looked suspicious, yet grateful of Edward’s compliance. “Thanks, Edward. I’ll escort you over there.”

Normally, that suggestion would get on Edward’s nerves. It was understandable that a patient might need supervision, but it always felt like they were implying he needed babysitting, as if he’d fall down the elevator shaft if he was left on his own. Currently, though, he didn’t mind the offer. Not all of the guards were aware of his transfer, and the last thing he needed was for one to spot him and sound the alarm in fear of his attempted escape. That was the last thing he wanted, he didn’t feel like being tackled to the ground today.

As the two men proceeded down the hallway, the vapid sound of speech hit Edward’s ears. He was coming to the decision he didn’t like this ward as much as the Rutan Wing. Initially, he’d found the more populated wing to be more exciting. The groups of people were a welcome change after his previous surroundings outside the asylum, but those feelings were wearing off quickly. At least the Rutan Wing was quiet and mostly empty. It wasn’t entirely a “Wing” of the asylum, just a smaller ward, but his room had a decent view of the Trigate Bridge. The dayroom was typically empty, and he’d spent most of his time reading or listening to the guard’s radio at the security station. At the time, he felt that the lack of activity was dull, and he was itching for a change in the environment.

But, last night the orderlies and guards had come to his room and said he was being transferred. He’d assumed they were taking him to a more secure area of the asylum. But they’d brought him here, the wing at the front; the least secure wing in the whole building. At first, he’d seen this as an achievement. If Dr. Leland was moving him to the front wing, it must be a statement about his progress. That he could be trusted with less supervision, and that he was getting better. He’d never even seen these wards before, and it was fascinating to see how the non-threatening patients experienced the asylum. They were allowed to wander around the halls freely -- well, mostly freely. But, it was certainly much more freedom than Edward was used to on this island.

The issues that arose became clear rather fast. Since the other patients had more freedom, it meant he had to interact with them more than usual, and they interacted with him with much curiosity. He started to find the chatter, noise, and hectic energy of the ward unsettling. So unsettling that he found himself wandering the halls until he found a spot where the echoing voices were much quieter. His tiny room in Rutan was starting to sound like paradise compared to this.

The orderly motioned Edward down the hall that led to the main clerical offices. He’d been there a few times during his frequent lock-ups in the facility. Usually, it was during his multiple escapes from his cell -- either breaking into offices to snoop for information, or for stealing certain supplies to aid in a more dramatic escape from the asylum. He’d always enjoyed watching the police and guards try to figure out how he’d disappeared, or how he’d gathered the supplies to enact his theatrical exit. It had always been an exciting experience being here, until the Bat had designed him a new cell. Then he began to understand why the others disliked their confinement in Arkham so deeply.

The two men stopped at Dr. Leland’s office door, and Edward watched as the orderly knocked and opened the door for him to enter. “Nigma is here for his appointment, doctor.”

Dr. Leland thanked the orderly and motioned for Edward to sit in the guest seat in front of her desk. Sitting down, he made himself comfortable, though it was mostly for appearances. Dr. Joan Leland wasn’t an unintelligent woman, regardless of her sense of morality that certainly made her do stupid things. She was one of the “good ones,” believing that the patients in this asylum were capable of rehabilitation and living normal lives. This belief had remained firm, even after the magnitude of evidence she’d witnessed that proved she might be wrong.

Edward watched the doctor finish filing some paperwork, and he resisted the urge to fidget his fingers. Dr. Leland was smart and observant; she would certainly notice his unease. But Edward knew that she also didn’t do things without reason, and there were too many odd occurrences to indicate something was going on with his situation. Putting a file away in her desk drawer, the doctor finally looked at him -- right in the eye, as she usually did.

“Hello, Dr. Leland,” Edward said, trying to sound casual.

“Hello, Edward. How are you liking the Thayer Wing?” Dr. Leland asked with her typical direct approach.

“It's okay.”

“Just okay?” Dr. Leland arched her brow.

It looked like she found that in conflict with what she’d assumed, so Edward adjusted. “I'm enjoying the broader freedoms. I spent all morning in the library, that was enjoyable.”

Dr. Leland eyed him closely. She did this quite often, and it was obvious she did so when she was trying to decipher if Edward was lying. “That's good, I had a feeling you'd take advantage of that amenity immediately.” She scribbled down a few notes, then gave him a calm smile. “How are you adjusting to the people? The wing is much more populated than what you’re used to, has that been a concern?”

“No.” Edward lied.

Dr. Leland didn’t catch the deception and began writing down a few more notes in his file. “I see. I know it's just been one day, but how do you feel about the new schedule?”

Edward found that a bit strange. He hadn’t been told of any schedule changes, but he decided not to dwell on it. “It's alright.”

The doctor nodded and flipped through a few pages in his patient logs. “I see your stitches were removed… you have a clean bill of health.” Signing off on some of the papers, she finally looked him in the eye again. “Are you still in communication with Ms. Quinzell?”

“No,” Edward said, a slight chuckle in his voice.

“Really?” Dr. Leland’s brow arched again.

Edward sighed. “You monitor everything I do, doc. You'd know before I would if she was trying to get in contact with me.”

The doctor leaned back in her seat, tapping her pen between her fingers as she examined him and Edward examined her in return. It seemed strange that she was more concerned about his contact with Harley than his adjustment to the new wing. He was starting to feel like she was going down some kind of checklist, but for what, he couldn’t imagine.

“If she does try to contact you, what would you do?”

Edward huffed. “I doubt she would, but I would just tell her to leave me alone.”

“You would?”

“Yes,” Edward answered, annoyance showing in his voice. “I'm sorry, doc, but what is going on here?”

“What makes you think something is?” After the words left her mouth, she appeared to catch herself and waved an apologetic hand in his direction. “I'm sorry, Edward. Sometimes it’s difficult to get my mind to drop old habits with you.” Dr. Leland set her pen down and rested her elbows on the desktop. “Edward, we had our meeting with the superintendents today. When Dr. Young heard about your progress, she was very impressed.”

That wasn’t the answer he was expecting, and he found himself confused on how best to respond. “Is that a good thing for me?”

Dr. Leland paused, and her eyes averted from Edward’s for a brief moment. “Things are being run differently here now. With new head doctors, new procedures --”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Edward cut her off. “Jerry is dead, and now things are different. I’ve heard all of that enough since I’ve been back. Can I ask you to please skip the public relations speech and just get to the point? Or would that request be considered part of my unproductive personality traits?”

“You're being released, Edward.” The doctor said flatly.

“I'm what, now?”

Dr. Leland paused again and folded her fingers together in an attempt to seem more forthcoming. “The head doctors think that, since you've progressed in your treatment, and you aren't exhibiting any aggressive tenancies -- they think you're a good candidate for the supervised release program.”

Edward stared at her, his disbelief apparent on his face. He let out a small chuckle. “This is a joke. This has got to be a joke, right?”

“No, it's not a joke.”

His eyes narrowed and his mouth was slightly agape as the weight of what she’d said set in. “Have you all gone insane? Has everyone in this building lost their minds? You can't release me.”

Dr. Leland jumped on that statement, quickly adding, “Why is that, Edward?”

“I can't go out there! I'm me!” he exclaimed, though tightly gripped the armrests of his chair to control his temper. Dr. Leland was watching him closely, her eyes searching for something as if she was looking for a clarification of some sort. Edward could feel his pulse rising and a tremble beginning in his hands. He leaned forward and spoke calmly, yet directly. “Look me in the eye, doc, and tell me you think I'm ready to be a part of society.”

The doctor contemplated that question for a moment before averting her eyes again. “You are no longer a danger to yourself or to others. That is the major reason you were the property of the state.”

Edward scoffed. “Oh, so now that I'm not dangerous I'm suddenly not "crazy" anymore, and I get kicked out?”

Dr. Leland’s eye very subtly twitched. “That's the way the rules work.”

Edward’s grip tightened on the armrests, his eyes darting around as his mind tried to come up with a solution. “Can I re-admit myself?”

“We're an asylum for the criminally insane, Edward, so, no. But you can admit yourself to a different hospital.”

“I can't believe this,” he said as he threw his hands up in exasperation.

Dr. Leland leaned forward, and lowered her voice in an attempt to calm him. “Edward, I know this is frightening. But you will have another doctor to continue to help you adjust --”

“I don’t want another doctor, I want you to be my doctor!” He noticed a somber realization flicker in her eyes, and he tried to slow his breathing. She had been his most frequently appointed doctor whenever he was at the asylum, and, once he’d made the decision to reach out, she’d been willing to listen to him. But that had taken years of sessions, years of him playing with her mind and refusing to speak. He’d had time to observe her, and he knew she would honestly provide assistance. The thought of talking with someone new was inconceivable.  

Edward released his grip on the chair and rested his elbows on the desktop in front of him. “Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to just -- to start taking this seriously, and start letting my guard down?”

Dr. Leland leaned in more as well. “I know that was very hard for you, and I know that you can do it again.” Her expression was strong, as if she was trying to show him how much she believed those words. “Your new doctor won’t have as many patients, they’ll be able to give you more personalized care. It will be better for you.”

“Who are they?” Edward asked in a huff, “Who is my new doctor?”

A hint of sadness flared in Dr. Leland’s eye, and she tried to cover it up with a small smile. “I’m not sure, yet.”

“Wonderful.” He sighed and flopped back in his chair.

“Edward, you can do this,” she said, and her strong expression returned. “You need to keep reminding yourself why you wanted to make a change in your life. Keep that as your cornerstone, and try not to lose focus.”

He shook his head, still in disbelief, “I don’t… have anywhere to go.”

Dr. Leland gave him another sad smile. “You’ll be put on an assistance program. They’ll help you find a place to live, a place to work, and you’ll have some money to help you pay your bills.”

Edward chuckled at that. Yeah, I bet plenty of landlords in this city will be jumping at the chance to have you as a tenant, his thoughts chimed in, and he immediately tried to ignore them.

“How long?” He asked.

“I’m sorry?”

“How long until you all kick me out of here?”

“It takes about a week to get all the paperwork in order.” Noticing the cynical look on his face, Dr. Leland continued, “You can spend that time wisely. You should be thinking about what profession you’d like to go into.”

“What?” That statement yanked him from his internal thoughts.

“Well, you won’t be a criminal, and you’ll have a stamp of approval from the asylum. You should start considering what you’d like to do for employment. You’re very good at gathering information, perhaps you could be a journalist, or a researcher for one of the papers.”

Edward began fidgeting in his chair, and the trembling in his hands started to die down. That was a thought, but completely out of the question. If he was going to be out on the streets, the news of his release was going to spread like a wildfire in the underworld. And working for any news outlet would put him too close to the criminal activity in the city. That line of work would be unreasonably dangerous for him at the moment, but the suggestion had triggered his thoughts to wander. There were other professions he could get involved in, especially if he wanted to stay off of everyone’s radar.

Despite what the state might intend, he was sure they were going to have difficulty finding even a grocer that would allow him to mop their floors for a few measly cents a week. He could already see the hurdles they would have to jump through to find him employment, and something he’d heard on the guard’s radio in Rutan snuck into his memory. The city was desperate for new business owners after all the carnage on the streets the last few months. Many people had had to close down, and migration into the city had trickled down to nothing. The newscaster on the radio often mentioned the officials’ constant complaining about the dwindling funds in the budget.

His doctor shifted in her seat, and the movement pulled him out of his thoughts. She was staring at him, still examining him with those searching eyes. Dr. Leland normally would allow him to get lost in his thoughts, and she rarely interrupted him when he did. But, this time, she looked more curious than usual.

“Did that help calm you down, Edward?” She asked.

He slowly let out a breath, “Yeah.”

“Good. Just remember, you have more possibilities now than you did before, and many more options at your disposal. You don’t have to leave here and get lost again.”

Edward looked her in the eye, “Can I ask for something?”

“That depends on what it is.”

“Can I have some reading material?” Seeing her apprehension, he swiftly explained. “I just want to refresh my memory on the laws, and the current services available for opening a business.”

Dr. Leland tilted her head. “I don’t see why we couldn’t get you some books on the requirements. However, you’re going to have a lot of paperwork to go through the next few days. There is a lot of information you’ll need to get familiar with concerning the current services available to the survivors.” She picked up her pen and scribbled down something on one of her notepads. “I’d suggest you read through all of it, no matter how daunting the volume might be. Those conditions and services apply to you, too, remember.”

He gave a weak shrug. “I’ve never been intimidated by large volumes of information, doctor.”

She attempted to hide a smirk, and gave him a stern look. “Read through all of it, Edward.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll read through it.”

She nodded her approval, then turned her attention down to her notes. She pretended to contemplate them for a moment, and then looked back up at him and fixed her gaze with his. “I know we already went over this, but I’d like to go back to the subject of Ms. Quinzell.” She ignored Edward’s eye roll and set his large patient file aside. “It is a source of concern for me, Edward. I want to ensure that I have explained my position fully before you leave this facility.”

“What else is there --” Edward stopped himself, and his lips thinned. Taking a deep breath, he let it out and motioned for her to continue. “I’m sorry, doc. Go ahead, what is your concern?”

Dr. Leland seemed pleased with his composure. “I know you said you aren’t going to be in communication with her, but you haven’t ever fully explained why you two were in such close communication while she was here. The two of you haven’t ever been hostile toward each other, but you two also never paid much attention to one another. My concern is that something is going on.” She set her pen back down, and her shoulders slumped. “I’m not trying to pry into your personal business, but I’m afraid that if she contacts you then you will talk to her. I don’t think that is a good idea.”

Edward nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but Dr. Leland beat him to it.

“You are doing the hard work to try to live a better life. Ms. Quinzell spent her time here exhibiting her usual behavior, and then escaped from the facility. In my opinion, she is not on the same path that you are, and any communication with her would be detrimental to your rehabilitation.”

Edward fidgeted in his seat and nodded again. “I know, doctor. I think my reluctance to talk about this situation might have given you the wrong idea. Harley and I just -- we had very different experiences during the lockdown. I know it will sound cruel of me to say so, but I was genuinely really surprised that she survived. I was just curious how she did, that’s all. Honestly, doc, that’s it.”

Dr. Leland wasn’t buying that explanation, Edward could see it on her face, so he kept going. “And, I felt like I could talk to her about our experiences. It was easier to discuss it with her, since she was there, albeit under different circumstances, considering her side.”

Dr. Leland perked up, but she did a decent job of not letting her eagerness show too much, “You spoke to Ms. Quinzell about your time on the island?”

“Yeah. As I said, it was easier to talk to someone who already knew a lot of the circumstances.”

“Did it help to talk to her?”

“Kind of. Not really, actually.” Edward ruffled his hair, mentally kicking himself for bringing up the subject. “She understood some things, but -- I mean, it helped at first, but, now, I don’t know.” Edward adjusted his glasses and looked his doctor in the eye. “You don’t have to worry about me talking to her. Harley made her position quite clear, she has no intentions of quitting her criminal behavior. I don’t even see why she’d contact me, since I made my position clear as well.”

Dr. Leland stared at him in silence. She wasn’t showing any tells, but Edward could see it: she was still suspicious. Eventually, she stood from her seat and gave him a final look, “If she contacts you--”

“I won’t speak to her,” Edward confirmed.

The doctor nodded and picked up his patient file, setting it on the filing cabinet behind her. “I apologize for having to cut this discussion short, but I have a patient to assess. I’ll see to it that we get you those legal texts. If you need anything from me, just tell one of the nurses or the orderlies that you’d like to speak with me.”  

Edward agreed and stood from his chair. The doctor stepped around her desk, and Edward moved backward toward the wall to keep a safe distance between them. Watching him, a smile crept across Dr. Leland’s lips. “You don’t need to keep your distance from me, Edward. You’re not in Intensive anymore.”

Hearing her words, he felt a bit foolish. He nodded to her to show that he understood, but remained standing by the wall. Dr. Leland took a step toward him, her smile shifting to a calmer one. “You’ll be alright. Just try not to let your negative thoughts hold you back, and stay on course. If you need me --”

“Yeah, don’t worry. I know where you work, I’m sure I can find you if I need you.” Edward said, triggering a small chuckle from Dr. Leland.

He walked with her out of the office, and she motioned for one of the guards to get Edward an escort. “So, thinking of making your own business. What line of work were you thinking of going into?”

Edward gave her a weak smile, “Finance.”

Dr. Leland gave him a suspicious look, but returned the smile. “Not a bad idea. Lots of money to be had in the world of taxes.”

“Yeah, that’s why I decided I should brush up on the laws.” Despite his honesty, she still looked concerned, though she didn’t voice it. She bid him good day, instructed him to follow the rules, and he watched as she hurried off down the hall to her next appointment. It took a few moments before an orderly showed up to take him back to his wing in the asylum, and he found himself bewildered again. He wasn’t used to being treated with so much lack of concern, and it was beginning to make him feel nervous.

As the two walked back to the Thayer wing, the orderly tried to make some small talk, though his choice in subjects made Edward quickly lose what little interest he’d had in the discussion. As they arrived at the heavy dividing door, the orderly motioned for Edward to go ahead of him and locked the security door behind him with a loud clang. The wandering patients took note of Edward’s return, and he hurried back to the empty hall to avoid the curious stares. His eyes landed on the mural immediately, and he slowed his pace as he walked up to it.

He found himself staring at the tiny, lone boat in the water, and a different sensation hit him. As he looked over the painting, he found that it had a charm to it he hadn’t noticed the first time. The starkness of the island felt calming, and the little blue flowers didn’t look so juvenile now. The blue void of the water was serene, as if it was a protective barrier surrounding the land. He was starting to feel like he understood what the artist was trying to convey. It was something that didn’t require masterful artistic skills to explain, which was probably why they didn’t bother. The island was a sanctuary from the outside world, a tiny home locked away by a river of water. Somewhere where the struggles on the lands surrounding it couldn’t touch. Though the mansion at the top still looked creepy.

Oh, so you’re happy being locked away on islands now? The thought came from nowhere, and he willed it to stop, but his mind persisted. The outside world is too frightening for you, so now you want to be like whatever patient painted this? Locked away in a cage where you’re safe, so the scary bad men can’t hurt you anymore?

His eyes narrowed as his temper began to rise. That wasn’t it, he just wasn’t ready to leave yet. Despite what the doctors said, he knew he hadn’t made enough progress. There were too many issues he was dealing with. He kept telling himself to keep things simple. To keep his world small, and not worry about the larger issues at hand. It wasn’t an emotional decision, it was a logical one. He wasn’t being a coward.

But he couldn’t shake the feelings, now that the thoughts had pointed them out. It could be that he was scared. That he was wasting valuable time sitting around in this cold building. The doctors didn’t want him here, and he’d lost his sanctuary of isolation from the other patients. He wondered why he felt so desperate to stay.

It’s because you’re afraid of what waits outside these walls, his thoughts concluded.

All at once, the mural in front of him had lost its appeal, and he had the impression of being right back where he’d started.

[biotic-boshtet]

Aftermath - Chapter 2

Read on AO3

Chapter 1

Sugar?

Kaidan steps through the door into the medbay, greeted by the smell of antiseptics and the doctor’s warm smile. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes, I’m having a bit of a problem with our dear Commander, she’s locked herself in her quarters with a migraine, and normally I wouldn’t fuss, but she’s been in there since yesterday, and when I stopped by to check up on her this afternoon, she wouldn’t open the door. As far as I can tell she hasn’t so much has poked her head out that door since she shut it. I did consider calling Jeff down to check on her, but I’d hate to bring him all the way here and have Shepard turn him away. You’re the one best equipped to handle the situation at hand.”

“And you said she’s been in there for 24 hours?” Kaidan knew the stress of the 2 weeks since Virmire was taking its toll on the Commander, and that she’s been working through a migraine, but he’d never seen her down for more than a few hours.

“A little longer than that, really, she stopped by yesterday around noon to tell me she was locking herself in there until the worst of it passed. I believe her exact words were ‘Once my brain stops trying to implode and ooze out of my amp jack’.” Dr. Chakwas grimaced at the description as she repeated it. “I offered her a dose of painkillers, but she waved it off and went on her way.”

“Yeah, ouch, I’ll see if I can’t convince her to at least eat something.”

“Thank you, and good luck.”

-

Thermos of coffee, water bottle, and hot leftovers in hand, Kaidan leans against the wall beside the door as he sends off a message to Shepard. Hopefully, she was awake. Knocking wouldn’t work, the chances of her hearing aids being on were slim. He’d noticed she had the habit of turning them off when things started to overwhelm her. Feels like they’ve been off more than on lately. He breathes a sigh of relief when the indicator light flashes from red to green, and the door hisses open. As the door shuts behind him, it’s clear that she’s turned off every light she possibly could. The emergency lighting along the floor is still on, though he’s sure she considered cracking into the electrical panel to deal with them.

Walking further into the dark room, he almost believes she isn’t there. Almost. He spots her curled up with a pillow over her head as he pulls a chair up to the side of the bed. Her field feels different without her amp in, softer around the edges, but it still vibrant enough to pop and fizzle against his own. As he sits down and sets the food and drinks on the end table, Shepard moves her pillow to squint at him. He tries not to let his eyes linger on her bare arms or the near meter of hair spread across the mattress.

“Doc told me it was a nasty one.” Kaidan signs, “So I came with coffee. Pretty sure it’s strong enough to give a Krogan heart palpitations, so it should help.”

She pulls herself up to sit against the headboard. She looked like hell. “Sugar?”

“Plenty, don’t worry.” He uncaps the thermos and passes it into her waiting hands. As she takes a sip, her eyes slide closed and Kaidan swears he’s never seen such a blissful look on her face. He lets her enjoy the coffee for a moment before catching her attention again. “If you’re feeling up to it, I’ve got some leftovers too. If you don’t eat soon, I think Chakwas might break down your door and sit on you until you do. Or worse, drag you to the medbay.”

Shepard almost reluctantly sets the coffee down, reaching for the container as Kaidan snaps open the lid and sticks a fork in the steaming spaghetti. The second she takes a bite it’s like a switch flips and the second and third bites follow soon after. Half the container is gone before she pauses to take another drink of coffee and glances up at Kaidan. “I know this is just leftovers, but fuck, it tastes so good I could kiss you.”

Kaidan laughs as his cheeks redden, and he brings up his omnitool to check some emails while she finishes her food. He needs to distract himself from the fact that he wants her to kiss him. He makes sure to send one off to Chakwas, reassuring her that he’s gotten Shepard eating and at least caffeinated. He moves the bottle of water closer to the coffee, waving his hand next to it catch her attention and let her know its there.

“So. Ears are on now, by the way, don’t worry about signing. I had an idea, to boost morale. I can’t be the only person on this ship cracking under the stress, so I’m gonna see if I can’t work out some kind of sparring match in the cargo bay. Prizes and stuff, plus something extra for the first crewmate who can get me down on the mat.”

“Yeah? You sure anybody’ll go for it?” He spoke softly, the way she kept her eyes half closed told him the pain was still very much there.

“Oh, you know, I’ve overheard a conversation or two, some of the other marines are totally sure they can take me, just, without the biotics. Remember, some of these jarheads have never actually seen me in the field.”

“Yeah, or they’d never dream of going toe-to-toe with you. What’s your grand prize?”

“Probably some credits and a few pistol mods? I don’t know for sure yet.”

“I think it’s a great idea, help everybody loosen up a bit.” He checks the time; he drew the short straw for the watch in the CIC. “Alright, I’ve got my watch coming up soon, so I’ll get out of your hair. Go check in with Chakwas if you can brave the lights out there.”

“I’ll try.”

Kaidan makes it halfway to the door before he remembers the chocolate bar in his pocket. The good chocolate. Not impossible to get ahold of in space, but also not high on any Alliance requisition lists. He walks back to the bed, partially melted chocolate in hand.

“I forgot about this. A good bar of chocolate almost always helps a migraine.”

She looks reverently at the chocolate, hand outstretched, but not grabbing it. “Are you sure? This is definitely not on any of our supply lists.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve got a few more stashed away, don’t worry about it.” He presses the bar into her hand, closing her fingers around it. He’s halfway out the door when she speaks again.

“Kaidan? Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

-

Kaidan watches what has to be at least 2/3 of the crew milling around the cargo bay, navy and marines, humans and aliens, all chatting and joking around. He’d picked a good spot, back near a wall, next to Joker. Near the center of the bay, he hears a thud as the Commander puts another marine on the mat. She offered up a prize of 300 credits and a few choice pistol mods to the first person who could get her on the mat, no biotics, no tech, just good old fashioned hand-to-hand. At least Shepard’s got the decency to help them up off the mat after she kicks their asses. Still, even after half a dozen crewmates beat, there’s still plenty looking to try their luck at beating Commander Shepard. She doesn’t even look like she’s broken a sweat.

Kaidan fiddles with his omnitool, pretending he isn’t interested in the match. Another marine hits the mat, and his eyes flick up watch Shepard help Fredricks up onto his feet, and this time she looks right at him, a mischievous glint in intense brown eyes.

“You up for a challenge, Alenko?” Her voice carries clearly over the chatter and general noise of the cargo bay.

Kaidan knows he’s got the look of a deer caught in headlights but recovers gracefully enough. “Oh, no, Commander, I’m content just watching you take out every other marine on board.”

“What, are you scared you’ll beat your CO? Don’t worry, you won’t.”

Joker leans over, with a hand up to his mouth for an especially dramatic stage whisper. “You know if you walk away the crew will never let you live it down. Neither will Norah Jean. She’ll be bringing it up for at least the next 10 years. Believe me.”

Kaidan looks between Joker and Shepard, who’s still standing on the mat, hands on her hips and already looking like she’s won. Then he sighs and wades through the onlookers. Once in the ring he looks down at her. “You know, you’re a real pain in the ass, right?”

“I try.”

Kaidan makes his way to the table set up a few feet from the edge of the mat and makes a show of taking off his uniform shirt, then unplugging his amp, setting both on the table beside hers. Slowly they begin to circle each other.

“Think you can beat me?”

“Shepard, I have no illusions of how this is going to end. I watched you bring Fredricks down in 6 moves. He’s twice your size. My chances aren’t looking good here.” He throws a jab at her left side, testing her reflexes, and she blocks it easily.

They trade blows, trying to whittle each other down, and Adams is clearly about to call it in a draw when Kaidan lunges forward. Then the cargo bay blurs and his back slams onto the mat, knocking the wind right out of his lungs. Shepard is beaming above him. She offers a hand to help him haul himself up, and he moves for his discarded shirt and amp.

“Uh, yeah, Shepard, remind me not to get in your way.”

She pats his shoulder and gives him a thumbs up as she drinks her water.

[falseroar]

Dog Days Part 26: Just a Few Questions

((In exchange for helping cover up what happened at the studio, Dr. Iplier has a request of Dr. Schneeplestein and you. Abe has some regrets about offering to go with Chase to the Institute, but with Jackie’s “help” decides not to back out now.

This is a long one! (Edit: Never mind. I just checked, and the next two parts are both 7k+ words each. I’m beginning to suspect this is just going to be a theme from here on out.) I also sort of introduced another OC for this one, so hopefully that’s not too distracting. I’ll explain more about that in the end notes.

Here’s links to Part 25 and to the series masterlist.))

The doctor allowed Abe to stay the night in the clinic, on the condition that he didn’t leave the room as much as possible. Abe wasn’t sure if that was so Marvin could keep an eye on him while Schneeplestein was busy, or if he didn’t want the hunter scaring off his other patients. Either way, he had no intention of leaving, and neither did Jameson. With two beds in one room, it was already crowded enough without all of them there, so it only took a little bit of urging from the doctor to convince Chase to go home for the night, with Jackie riding along to keep an eye on him and to get some fresh air.

Jameson was more than willing to answer Abe’s questions and ask a few of his own, the two of them passing his phone back and forth with his notes app open, at least when he wasn’t arguing with Marvin about what the doctor’s definition of “rest” meant. Between the magician and the way Jackie fidgeted restlessly until Chase offered him an excuse to leave, Abe suspected these guys weren’t used to sitting still for long. Not that he could judge them there.

The doctor looked in occasionally, but otherwise the only sounds they heard from the rest of the clinic was the slow but steady stream of patients going in and out throughout the night, about the same number as Abe usually counted when he had been watching from the outside. All those nights watching the doctor, and he didn’t expected to end up here in one of these rooms, keeping an eye on the partner he thought he lost for good.

Or trying to keep an eye on you. It was a long, quiet night, and when you woke up the room was dark. Marvin was lying on the other bed, still wearing his mask, Jameson sitting back in the chair next to him with his head propped up against the wall behind him, while Abe had fallen asleep with his head resting on your bed. A soft snore escaped from the hunter as you looked at the three of them and wondered what time it was, a question that was answered a few minutes later when the door cracked open and Henrik peeped in.

Spotting your open eyes, he whispered knowing that you would be able to hear him even from across the room, “How are you feeling? Need anyzhing?”

“Just thirsty,” you admitted, and he nodded before disappearing from the doorway. A moment later he returned with a cup of water, and you sat up carefully so as not to wake up Abe. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Henrik answered softly, watching you as you drank with a thoughtful expression. “Dawn is less than two hours away now.”

“Are you going to stay here or go home?” you asked, after nearly draining half the cup in one sip.

“Zhat depends on what you wish to do, I think. I believe you and Marvin would both do well at home, but there are other considerations.” The doctor glanced at Abe, but he said, “I have told Dr. Iplier I will go to zhe hospital today and spend zhe daylight hours there, if you are up to joining me.”

“The hospital? Are you working there today or something?” you asked, and Henrik shook his head.

“No, it is time for my regular check-in, but there is also zhe problem of zhe Institute. Dr. Iplier has agreed to cover for us, should zhey ask about yesterday’s…incident at zhe studio, but only if he has a chance to meet you, again.”

You started to ask, but Abe stirred and asked, his voice slurring a little with sleep, “Wait, what’s happening?”

Clearly you and Henrik hadn’t been as quiet as you had hoped, because Marvin and Jameson were waking up now too.

Henrik sighed and explained, “Dr. Iplier is, rightfully, not big on covering for people he does not know. He is villing to do much based on my word as to Y/N’s character and safety, but he would still like to meet zhem in person and ask a few questions. Since I have to go in anyways today, and Abe and Chase have already made plans…”

“Wait, you have?” you asked, and this time it was Abe’s turn to explain about the call and Chase’s agreement to go in and give a report on what happened at the studio yesterday—or at least his version that covered up the whole werewolf thing. Which brought them around to Abe’s client, or at least the Google that worked for him.

“This little field trip might give us a chance to look into who created those Google units, and who has them now,” Abe said. “The one I met answers to someone who knows way too much about us.”

“Even more now, thanks to you,” Marvin muttered, but while Abe didn’t hear it you could give the magician a look that made him repentant enough to say, “You said one of them’s at the hospital, right? I can go with Y/N and Henrik and…”

He winced as he sat up, a hand going to his head, and the doctor clucked his tongue. “Your body is telling you no on zhat. You vill go home with Jackie when zhey get here and rest, no excuses. We need you back up to stuff, magician, and zhat vill not happen if you are running around willy und nilly.”

“I can go,” Jameson signed. “That is, if you want to go, Y/N.”

You hesitated. Going to a hospital felt risky, even without everything else going on, but Henrik would be there and he had trusted the other doctor enough to bring him in while you were still recovering and stuck as a wolf. And Marvin did have a point about talking to the Google there—maybe he knew something about the others, or you could get a better feel for how these magiteks worked. Using Google’s own rules against him had worked yesterday, after all.

“Yeah, I’ll go,” you said, only to look down at your shirt. While you had healed from the shot without an issue, the same couldn’t be said for your torn and bloody shirt. “I, uh, might need to change first, though.”

“I vill tell Chase to add that to zhe list things to bring,” Henrik said, sounding much more cheerful. “Zhe bathroom is open, if any of you wish to freshen up in zhe meantime.”

Abe frowned, and not just because the doctor seemed to give him a side eye when he said it. He had been okay with going to the Institute with Chase when it seemed like you would be staying here or going home, or at least aware that he would have to keep his distance anyways once that happened, but now that he knew you were going somewhere else he wasn’t so thrilled on his promise to go. Sure, split up and cover more ground, that was great and all, but he hadn’t realized going with you could have been an option. It wasn’t like Chase needed him to be there.

Even knowing there was a chance to find out more about the red-shirted Google, Abe still played with the idea of giving an excuse to go with your group to the hospital. For safety, of course—after all, look how that little field trip to the studio turned out for you.

But it was Marvin who spoke up, while Jameson was out of the room and no doubt waxing his mustache or whatever his morning routine involved and the doctor had taken you to another room for some privacy for another checkup, and muttered, “Wish I was going with you.”

“You mean with them,” Abe said, head tilting in the general direction of the others, but the magician shook his head.

“No, I mean, yes, them too. Just doing something.” Marvin rubbed his face, his fingers disappearing up under his mask before it resettled into place. “What am I supposed to do, sit at home and twiddle my thumbs?”

“…Your magic really is gone?” Abe asked.

“Not gone, just—” Marvin paused, searching for the right words. “Like there’s a—wall, in between me and it, or like…Like breaking your arm, it’s still there, but you can’t use it for anything, you know? No, that’s not really right, but you get the general idea. God, I might as well be totally human.”

“Yeah, I can see how that would be a real shame,” Abe said sarcastically, but the magician just shrugged. Abe found his eyes drawn to that ridiculous cat mask again, and he had to ask, “Your friends know you’re half-fae, right? Not exactly something you can hide for that long, so why are you still wearing the mask?”

“Heh.” The side of Marvin’s mouth twitched upwards and he brushed his hair out of his face before fixing Abe in his gaze. “The eyes of the fae can be…distracting, even if you know what to expect.”

“That, and he’s vain as hell,” Jackie said at the door, looking in with Chase just visible behind him. “Where’s Y/N?”

“Next room over with the doc,” Abe answered, and Chase gave a thumbs-up before disappearing out of sight. “You know, I bet the doctor would be okay with you and Jackie going with Chase instead of me. Not like I have much of a reputation to help whatever tale he’s going to spin them.”

“Yeah, that’s…a bad idea, for many reasons,” Marvin answered, while Jackie shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned up against the doorframe. “I’d rather not attract the Institute’s attention, and Jackie…”

“I’m not going back there unless it’s to burn the place to the ground,” Jackie finished. He drew up his sleeve, revealing a network of scars tracing their way up and out of sight under the rest of his hoodie. “Last time I went into one of their buildings with a couple of hunters, they threw me in with the other guinea pigs to be played with.”

“But you’re human,” Abe said, and then, “Aren’t you?”

Jackie tilted his head and stepped back, out of the room and out of sight, until the prickle of hairs on the back of Abe’s neck made him look over his shoulder just in time to see Jackie step out of his shadow and rest his elbow on the hunter’s shoulder.

“For a certain value of ‘human,’ yes.” It was the movement of Jackie’s eyes returning to their normal grey that alerted Abe to the fact they had just been solid black, like two holes looking into something or somewhere else. “A little less, after they were done with me. Chase is the only reason I ever saw daylight again.”

Jackie’s weight shifted, the elbow on Abe’s shoulder becoming an arm across his chest, pressing him up against the wall as Jackie whispered, “Which is why you’re going to go with him. And you’re going to make sure nothing happens to him. Do you understand?”

Abe grunted, and Jackie relieved the pressure enough for him to mutter, “Didn’t really need the threat. What do you think I am?”

Jackie looked the hunter up and down before meeting his steady gaze with one of his own, his mouth twitching as though fighting back the urge to answer that.

“…I’ll keep an eye on the kid,” Abe said.

Said “kid” had gone to the next exam room and entered to find you lying on the bed while the doctor gently felt around the area where you had been shot yesterday.

“Oh, sorry,” Chase said, immediately starting to back up, but the doctor shook his head.

“Ve are done here, I think. You are sure zhere is no pain, Y/N?”

“Yeah, I…” you sat up slowly, your eyes drifting toward Chase as an all too familiar copper scent hit you. “I’m fine. Chase, are you bleeding?”

“Uh—” Chase sighed and stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. “Yeah, just a scratch from—from yesterday. I was hoping Schneep could take a look?”

“From yesterday?” You immediately thought back to that moment in the elevator, but you didn’t remember any point where Chase could have gotten hurt. That is, until you saw Henrik’s guilty expression and something clicked in the back of your mind. “You drank his blood?”

“I didn’t give him a choice,” Chase answered for him. “It was still the middle of the day, and we couldn’t take you and Marvin home with that hunter and who knows what else hanging around, and I didn’t know how serious your injuries were, so I…”

Henrik heaved a sigh and continued, “So he gives me no time to prepare a better idea. Your cut has started to bleed again?”

Chase nodded and, at the doctor’s gesture, hopped up on the bed to sit next to you and draw up his sleeve. There was a bandage there, already falling off even before the doctor carefully peeled it back to reveal the small cut on his upper arm.

The doctor clicked his tongue and said, “Vampire saliva encourages the bleeding, you see. It is why we try to avoid drinking directly from…donors, or one of zhe many, many reasons. At least you had enough sense not to create zhe cut near an artery or vein, but still.”

“Like I said, I didn’t know how much time we had to work with,” Chase said defensively.

“There is always time to do these things correctly!” Henrik paused and admitted, “Most of zhe time. Zhe effect should wear off on its own, but I have something that may help. Wait just a moment, both of you.”

The doctor walked out of the room, careful to shut the door behind him, and you waited until he was out of earshot before remarking, “You…you really trust him, don’t you?”

“Yeah, of course,” Chase said with a shrug that made you wonder if he really understood what he had done, not just asking but encouraging a vampire to feed on him, with no one else around to step in if the doctor’s worst impulses kicked in and he couldn’t stop himself. “Oh yeah, I picked up some fresh clothes for you while I was at the house. They’re not much to look at, but at least they match a little better than what you have on. Plus, you know, no hole in the middle.”

“…My clothes don’t match?”

“Eh?” Chase shrugged and said, “Maybe we can take you clothes shopping one day, help you pick out some things that are a little more ‘you’ than Jackie’s old hoodies.”

There was a hoodie on top of the pile of clothes, and you could smell Jackie’s scent in the fabric, same as you could tell who the other shirt and pants belonged to. As nice as it would be to have some clothes of your own, you didn’t want to admit to Chase that you kind of liked having that reminder of them with you. Talking about people’s scents felt very much like one of those werewolf things that might make other people feel awkward or uncomfortable.

“What do you normally like to wear?” Chase asked. “Any favorite colors?”

You shrugged, turning over the hoodie in your hands as you said, “I usually had to dress to look the part of an attorney, even on days when I was just in the office.”

And most of your days were spent in the office, when you weren’t in court or doing your own investigations. The few casual outfits you did have back then, you never really had much of a chance to actually wear. As for colors, you weren’t sure how much it mattered when you couldn’t actually see any of them.

Well, most of them. Wilford’s absurd pink mustache being the only exception so far.

“I like these pants though. They’re sturdy,” you said, and Chase immediately glanced at the hole in one of your knees that might have suggested otherwise.

“You mean blue jeans?” Chase asked. “Yeah, I think we can find you some more of those.”

“Wait, these are blue?”

Before Chase could answer that, the doctor walked back into the room, a small bottle and some fresh bandages in hand.

“Found it,” he said, shaking the bottle before applying a small amount of the liquid to a spongy white square. You winced and pulled the collar of your shirt up to your nose to try and block out the sharp, acid-like smell, causing the doctor to pause. “I had hoped you could help me vith this, Y/N, but if zhat would be an issue—”

You shook your head, trying to breathe through your mouth even as you answered, “No, it’s fine, the smell’s just a little strong. What do you want me to do?”

Under the doctor’s directions, you took a wipe and cleared off a large square around the cut on Chase’s arm, causing him to wince even before you applied the foul-smelling medicine to the cut. Henrik caught Chase’s opposite hand as it started to move out of reflex until he relaxed, and then applied a couple strips of tape over the fresh bandages you put on to hold them in place. Once that was done, the doctor immediately took a step back and tucked his hands into the pockets of his white coat, but not before you saw the way they trembled. He probably wasn’t just asking you to handle it because you were already sitting next to Chase.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he said, after clearing his throat. “Zhat should help until zhe cut heals over on its own. Just keep it dry, and no more silly stunts.”

“Now when you say ‘silly,’” Chase started, causing the doctor to snort and walk out of the room. Chase jumped down from the bed and said to you, “You should probably go ahead and change, if you’re really wanting to go to the hospital today.”

You nodded, wondering if you should say something, but instead you asked, “Are you and Abe really going to the Institute today? The one you told me about?”

“Just one of the downtown offices, and maybe that lab if we can swing it,” Chase said, but he avoided looking at you until he added, “I’ll keep an eye on your hunter while we’re out, promise.”

He winked and walked out before you could correct him, leaving you to change and try to turn over what about that wording bothered you the most until it was time to go. The hospital was apparently close enough that Henrik felt confident you, him, and Jameson could walk there before dawn, but Marvin and Jackie insisted on at least driving the three of you there before they returned home, leaving Chase and Abe to take the hunter’s car.

Outside, in the predawn darkness, you wondered what to say to Abe. Any reminder to be careful or that you would see him again felt off, when you had so many other things you wanted to talk to him about. Too much to say or ask about in the little time you had, much less in front of the others.

Instead, it was Abe who pulled you to the side and said, “We’re going to talk about…everything later, yeah? So try to stay out of trouble until then.”

You felt a prickle at the back of your neck at his rough tone and answered, “I’m not the one who’s likely to end up in trouble. You think you can avoid shooting anyone today, hunter?”

“Only if they don’t shoot at me first,” Abe said, relaxing a little when he saw you almost smile at that. That is, until your eyes looked past the hunter and caught what Jameson was signing at you, and embarrassment knocked out every other expression as the others tried not to laugh. “What?”

“Nothing,” you answered a little too quickly. “See you soon, hunter.”

Abe turned and watched you squeeze into the backseat with the others before the car drove off, leaving him behind with Chase. “Are you going to tell me what that was about?”

“Not a chance, hunter,” Chase answered, suppressing a grin as he leaned against Abe’s car. “You ready to go or not?”

“Is anyone even going to be there this early?” Abe asked, causing Chase to raise an eyebrow. Of course, most hunters didn’t exactly work a regular 9 to 5 schedule, and the Institute was hardly any different. But then again, “I know a place we can stop on the way. How do you feel about coffee?”

“I’m listening.”

---

“You still got your collar on you?”

“What?” You had been looking out the back window at the streets passing by, and it took you a second to realize Marvin had turned around in the front seat to look at you. Reluctantly, you pulled the dog collar out of the front pocket of your hoodie and asked, “You mean this?”

Marvin relaxed and said, “Good. Make sure you keep it on you, okay? Schneep, Jameson, you still got your wards?”

Jameson nodded, tapping the brim of his hat and the doctor gave an affirming sound before directing Jackie to the right driveway to the hospital.

“I don’t have to actually wear this thing when I’m human, do I?” you asked.

“Nah, that’s only to get the wolf to pass as a dog,” Marvin answered. “As long as you keep it on or near you, no one should be able to trace you. There’s also some protections against other types of magic in it, but…”

“But they don’t do much against bullets,” you finished for him and Marvin shrugged.

“Can’t plan for everything. Sorry, I had planned on having something else for when you were human again, but that idea’s going to have to wait.” As the car pulled to a stop at the front entrance to the hospital, Marvin added, “Call us, if you don’t want to hang around here all day until nightfall. Just because Schneep has to stay here until then doesn’t mean you and JJ have to.”

“We’ll keep it in mind,” Jameson signed before reaching over and showing you how to unlock the back door. Together, you and Jameson climbed out while the doctor walked around from the other side of the car, and he leaned down so that Jackie could see him add, “Be careful going home!”

“Yes, please do,” Henrik said. “Last zhing we need now is Jackie getting caught driving vithout a license.”

“I’m always careful,” Jackie answered, and Marvin couldn’t hold back a laugh at that. “Look, you all can start criticizing as soon as you learn how to drive yourselves around. Until then, keep it to yourselves.”

The car idled there in the driveway after you all said goodbye, Jackie waiting until your group was through the glass doors before he put the car into drive.

“I thought you said you finished the new ward for Y/N,” Jackie said, breaking the silence of the drive back to the house, and Marvin made a noise but didn’t answer. “Just a few cosmetic tweaks—you don’t need your magic to do that, right?”

“Just considering our options,” Marvin answered, his tone doing more to tell Jackie that he wasn’t in the mood to talk right now.

Not that it kept him from saying, “Well, after this we can keep them home for a while, where it’s safer. At least until you’re back to yourself, and the attention’s off of them.”

Marvin didn’t answer, and when Jackie glanced at him out of the corner of his eye it was difficult to tell, between the darkness in the car and the magician’s mask, if he had even heard him. Jackie’s grip tightened on the steering wheel before he forced himself to relax and let it go. Marvin would share whatever was clearly on his mind when he was ready.

Not that waiting until that happened did anything to ease Jackie’s own suspicions about what was on his mind.

Back at the hospital, you stopped short at the sight of the familiar face behind the front desk and Jameson’s hand quickly found your own.

“Do not worry,” Henrik said under his breath. “Zhis is not zhe same Google you met. I know zhis one, and he is…Vell, he is not friendly, but he hasn’t—hm.”

The doctor paused, considering what he was about to say, before deciding to just go with, “Zhe hospital keeps a very close eye on him.”

“Kind of worrying that they need to keep that close an eye on him,” Jameson suggested, but it wasn’t like there was another option except to go up to the desk where Google looked up from the computer and straightened to face you all in a very mechanical set of movements.

“Welcome to Mercy Green,” Google said, his tone so similar to the other Google that you would have had a hard time telling them apart. Even their scents were very close, although this one had a lingering odor of cleaning fluid hanging around him that you hoped was from keeping the magitek unit clean and not related to any incident in particular. “If this is an emergency, I can direct you to our Emergency Room where trained staff are standing by. Otherwise, do you have an appointment?”

“Dr. Iplier is expecting us,” Henrik answered, but before Google could turn to the computer a voice called from down the hall as the doctor himself approached.

“Henrik, right on time,” Dr. Iplier said, glancing at you and Jameson only to pause, his eyes meeting yours for several seconds before he snapped himself out of it and said to Google, “Just following up on yesterday’s appointment. You know, the one I forgot to tell you about?”

“Yes.” Google’s expression darkened and he said, “You would not have to remember appointments if you told me about them before they happened, doctor.”

“Well, it was a bit of an emergency—”

“Emergencies can be handled by trained staff in our—”

“Yeah, yeah, but I owed a favor and the issue was something I could handle on my own. Right, Henrik?”

“Yes,” Henrik said, slowly as he worked out what the other doctor was doing. “Just a simple bad reaction to a potion. Of zhe transforming kind.”

“…Right.” Dr. Iplier shrugged and said, “I’ve got a room set aside for us already. I think I remembered to put that in the calendar, at least.”

“So you are not completely hopeless,” Google muttered under his breath, and Dr. Iplier started to respond before thinking better of it and motioning for you all to follow him back down the hall.

Once the front desk was out of sight, Jameson asked, “What was that all about?”

“If someone is asking for Dr. Iplier, zhey will most likely check with Google,” Henrik answered. “Such as someone from zhe Institute.”

“And he can tell them I took care of a patient who—an adverse reaction to a potion? Really?” Dr. Iplier asked as he took one turn after another. This place was quickly starting to feel like a maze, with one addition after another having been added on over the years, according to the frequent number of plaques on the walls.

“It vas not my idea,” Henrik answered. “But if they do ask, zhe patient came from zhe TV studio, Dark Entertainment.”

“Easy enough to remember,” Dr. Iplier muttered, and you suddenly remembered what Schneeplestein had said about the studio and the number of injuries there before you went. Now, the only surprising thing about that was the fact the doctor had managed to suppress the urge to say “I told you so.”

The doctor stopped and opened one of the doors to reveal a room a lot like the ones at Henrik’s clinic except more spacious and with more equipment that you weren’t familiar with.

He waited until the door was closed behind you before he said, “You must be Jameson Jackson. Henrik’s told me a lot about you.”

Jameson waved and nodded, although his expression suggested he wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that before Dr. Iplier looked back at you.

“And you must be…doing a lot better than the last time I saw you,” he said.

“Thank you, for the medicine,” you said. “It really helped.”

“Not even a trace of silver burns,” Dr. Iplier said, looking you up and down with a fascination that was almost concerning. “Absolutely incredible.”

Schneeplestein cleared his throat and Dr. Iplier added, “I mean, I’m glad. And curious. Which is why I would like to ask you a few questions, if that’s okay.”

You weren’t sure if he was asking you or Henrik, but you supposed you knew this was coming. Still, you said, “Depends on the question, I guess. And why you want to know.”

“Professional interest?” Dr. Iplier suggested before leaning against the desk along one wall, his fingers tapping on its surface. “We don’t get many werewolves here in the city, or at least not any that I know about, but even outside of our walls there aren’t a whole lot of doctors or healers of any kind who have any experience with them. Which means a lot of our medical literature has just enough to identify the signs of a werewolf bite and infection, and the methods to…ease the patient.”

“A nice drink of medicine and wolfsbane to ease the pain before the mob finds them,” you said sarcastically, but neither doctor tried to correct you. “One problem already: I wasn’t bitten by another werewolf.”

“What?”

“A curse, from the same entity that stole my voice,” Jameson explained, with Henrik translating for the other doctor’s benefit.

“Really?” Dr. Iplier gestured for you all to take seats, but he remained standing even as you reluctantly sat on the edge of yet another exam table. As if to make you feel less alone about that, Jameson decided to hop up next to you and place a comforting hand over yours with a smile. Dr. Iplier glanced at Henrik as he said, “Oh, is that why you were so sure they were safe during the full moon? It’s just a cosmetic transformation?”

Cosmetic. Because yes, transforming into another creature against your will every month was just the same as applying some eyeliner, said a bitter thought inside you that you tried to ignore even as you answered, “No. I’m only safe to be around thanks to a spell that helps me stay in control every full moon. Otherwise, I don’t know what I would do.”

Even with the spell, you could feel how thin the line was sometimes. Like yesterday, when you saw Dark and dropping every attempt at control or calm felt so very worth it.

“Could this spell be used for your traditional werewolf?” Dr. Iplier asked, his hopeful ideas quickly crushed by the shake of Jameson’s head.

“Marvin said the spell takes a very long time to prepare, and it was tailored toward the victim of that particular entity,” Jameson explained, with Henrik again translating. He decided against mentioning that Marvin only had that particular spell ready because he hoped to save someone else that night, or how Marvin had admitted, years later, that he hadn’t even been sure it would work that night, or what he would have done if it had failed. “He’s looked for a way to turn back both of our curses, with no luck.”

“Well, even if they are curses, they have physical effects,” Dr. Iplier said, again drumming his fingers against the desk while he thought out loud. “There’s always the chance that a physical solution can be found to counteract them. Henrik, what kind of tests have you done?”

“I have performed physicals, measuring zheir progress as zhey recover,” Henrik said slowly, as though he already knew where the other doctor was going with this.

“Some blood samples might give us an idea of what we’re dealing with—” Dr. Iplier started, but Henrik quickly cut him off.

“Nein, absolutely not, if zheir blood shows up in zhe system it vill—vhat is it—”

“I know how to keep things under the table,” Dr. Iplier said, looking at you as he added, “It would be perfectly safe, and no one else would have access to the samples—”

“Red flags!” Henrik said, snapping his fingers as he found the phrase. “You would need a lab, and someone to do tests, too many people would ask questions of a doctor doing it himself. Und zhat means more eyes, more hands, more chances of someone else finding out. Out of zhe question.”

“But nobody would look twice at Google doing it, and if I give him the right orders even he won’t know what the results are,” Dr. Iplier answered. “Even if we don’t find anything, wouldn’t it be better to have at least tried? Just trying to keep your head above water is admirable enough, I suppose, but if you just keep paddling in place, you’re never going to reach the shore.”

“Or you might just end up swimming out into the ocean if you go about it wrong,” Jameson signed. He sighed and added, “But we haven’t been able to do much to help you, have we? Maybe letting the docs have a shot at it wouldn’t be such a bad idea.”

The way Dr. Iplier talked, you weren’t sure if he was trying to get an idea for how the whole werewolf thing worked, or if he was actually hoping to find a cure. You hoped for his sake that it was the first, because you had laid aside all hope for a cure a long time ago.

“Just knowing how to cope with…some of this, would be nice,” you said slowly, thinking of yesterday, of all the times you had become overwhelmed by the wolf’s senses of smell and hearing, of how ever since the mirror it just felt easier, being the wolf. But you doubted any kind of tests the doctor could do would help with all of that, which is why you looked at Dr. Schneeplestein and started to ask, “Do you—”

You were interrupted by a knock at the door, which was abruptly opened despite Google’s protest on the other side of, “You are not allowed to access this room without permission.”

“A little late for that,” muttered a man beside him, who pushed up his glasses with a sniff, but both of them were overshadowed by the woman who had opened the door and looked around at all of you before her gaze settled on the two men in white coats.

“Dr. Iplier?” she asked.

“Who the hell are you?” Dr. Iplier answered, stepping forward only to be brought up short by the badges the woman and man showed him. From your vantage point, you couldn’t make out any details, but the general shape of the emblem on them did not match what you remembered of any official police or other government badge. As if to answer your curiosity, Dr. Iplier said, “Great. Bronson Institute investigators. Are they in the schedule, Google?”

“No, they are not,” Google answered, moving his hand towards his glasses in a gesture that just so happened to elbow the man next to him in the ribs. “I would have informed you of a scheduling conflict when you set up this follow-up examination if that were the case. These…people, asked where you were, and proceeded to barge their way here.”

“I’ve never barged anywhere in my life!” protested the man, after rubbing his ribs with a wince and not quite as casually elbowing Google back only to realize why that was a bad idea when the other person had a metal interior.

At his words, a device on his wrist pinged with an irritating noise timed to a flashing light that lasted for three seconds but felt like an eternity to your ears. The woman barely suppressed a smile as she said, “Perhaps some barging was involved, but I assure you that this is an important matter. You received our call about the patient from yesterday, correct?”

“Yes, I did,” Dr. Iplier answered, dragging his eyes away from the device to look back at her. “And I thought I answered all of your questions then. What is this about?”

“We like to be thorough in our investigations, especially when such…delicate matters have become so very public. There’s quite the stir going around, after what supposedly happened outside Dark Entertainment Studios yesterday, and the Institute simply must be sure that we have the heart of the matter before we issue a statement.” She smiled and added, “And your Google was so kind as to inform us that the patient from yesterday is still here.”

“Which one of you is it?” asked the other investigator as he walked into the room and sneered at you and Jameson on the exam table. “And don’t even think about lying! We brought this just so we could be sure we got the truth.”

You glanced down at the device on his wrist, which honestly looked like a wristwatch except one with a blank square screen instead of a clock face. This thing made that irritating noise when it heard lies?

Before you could ask, to stall for time while you thought of a way around it, Jameson immediately waved and pointed at himself.

“You?” the investigator asked, and when Jameson nodded, he scowled and said, “I need you to say it!”

“Jameson can’t speak,” you said. “It’s the effect of a curse, we think. But he does know sign language, if either of you…”

The investigator scowled and looked at his partner, who was sizing up the two of you now with the same intensity that she entered the room with, and she said, “That could work, assuming you know how to ask the right questions.”

“Fine, you translate,” he said, pointing at you before asking, “Were you involved in the incident at Dark Entertainment Studios yesterday, involving a suspected werewolf?”

“I was at the studio yesterday,” Jameson answered, and you translated word for word. “There was an unfortunate incident, yes, but luckily Chase Brody was there to assist, and I and my companions were taken to a doctor he is familiar with.”

“You mean Charles Bronson,” the investigator said as he took meticulous notes in a notepad. “What exactly was he doing there?”

“An interview,” Jameson answered. “About ‘nontraditional’ forms of entertainment, although as I told Jim yesterday, you could make the argument that Chase’s series of stunts for views, as well as his performing feats of gaming and even ‘hanging out’ with his fans could all be—”

Dr. Schneeplestein cleared his throat and Jameson flushed before finishing, “But perhaps this isn’t the place for that conversation.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that you’re an actor?” the investigator asked, and beside you Jameson froze before responding.

“And what, my good sir, is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, Charles said it was some actor who got changed thanks to a stupid stunt, but if you can’t even talk, then how are you supposed to be an actor? Subtitles?”

It was only your fast reflexes that kept Jameson from making his own very nonverbal answer to that, mostly with his fists, and behind the investigator his partner sighed and brushed her forehead with her fingers.

“Harold, what could I possibly have done to have to endure having you here for this?”

“Did you see that?! He tried to attack me!”

“Well, if he had, at least you’re already in a hospital,” she answered. “Dr. Iplier, can you confirm this man’s story?”

“I haven’t seen his work for myself, but I do believe he is an actor.”

Good thing you all were in a hospital, because the investigator looked ready to kill a man before she took a breath and asked, “Was the incident at the studio caused by a failed transformation potion?”

“That is what I was told, yes,” Dr. Iplier said. Of course, he didn’t add who told him that version of events, or whether he believed it. “In such a case, the best course of action is to wait for the effects to run their course, but the patient was under good supervision during that time.”

“Zhe best,” Dr. Schneeplestein muttered under his breath.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Dr. Iplier muttered back, before clearing his throat and saying, “As far as I know, Mr. Jackson’s testimony is entirely honest. And you could put me on the record as saying so.”

Jameson’s testimony, which was so carefully worded to avoid actually saying he was the one who transformed on the street yesterday. You were starting to suspect that device on his wrist wasn’t quite the infallible lie detector Harold seemed to believe it was, although even he looked disappointed when it failed to react at the doctor’s words.

“Tch.” Harold reached into his pocket and pulled out something before tossing it to Jameson with a, “Here, catch.”

Jameson easily caught the coin that flashed in the air between his hands, and opened them to reveal the large, silver coin resting in his palm. He looked from it to the investigator and back again before signing, “Do I get to keep this? Is it my pay for dealing with this nonsense?”

You tried hard not to think about what would have happened if Harold had tossed the coin to you, the burns on your hands worth far more than whatever that lie detector could supposedly tell them.

“I suppose that should settle that, at least,” the other investigator said, while Harold tried to convince Jameson to give him his coin back. Her eyes flickered toward the doctors again as she said, “Very convenient, that Mr. Jackson was still here for this little questioning. Why exactly are you still here, if the potion ran its course?”

The doctors hesitated, but you thought it was your turn to deflect the question by answering, “Dr. Iplier asked if we could come back in, because he wanted to follow up on a few things. Mainly, we’ve just been talking about curses.”

“Right, the curse that took Mr. Jackson’s voice,” she answered, and moved closer to the table. Her hand rested on the padded surface next to you as she leaned in, staring into your eyes with an intensity that was difficult to look away from. “You’re suffering from a curse as well, aren’t you?”

“I—” You swallowed, hard, and caught a brief glimpse of Dr. Schneeplestein on the other side of the room reaching up to tap on the side of his glasses. “Y-yes, I am. My eyes, they were affected by it—I couldn’t even see for a while there, and it’s mostly back but I…I, uh, can’t see most colors still and…”

You trailed off, relieved that the device hadn’t sounded off at that. Your eyes had been affected by the curse, or at least that bit of it that left you so weak to silver.

“Hm. That is interesting. His voice and your eyes…It wasn’t the same curse that caused both, was it?” She said it with a certainty that almost made you think she knew more than she was saying. By this point she was filling most of your vision, to the point that you couldn’t even look away to be sure what Jameson was signing next to you.

“No, I don’t think so. But it was the same…thing that cursed me that took Jameson’s voice.”

You had said it in the hopes it would explain why you were both here, but almost as soon as the words left your mouth you worried that she would ask more questions that you couldn’t answer, because even talking about the entity from the woods felt like it would be straying too close to the real truth. You felt like she had to know more, that she had to know none of you were telling the whole truth.

Part of the reason you were so sure was because there was something eerily familiar about this woman, from the way she commanded attention from the second she entered the room to the look in her eyes whenever she asked a question, like she was looking for more than just what you said next. If you didn’t already know Celine was still there somewhere inside Dark you might have thought…

“You’re not a seer, are you?” you asked, trying to sound like you were joking, and she smiled in a way that somehow made you feel even less certain about what you thought you knew.

“I prefer the title ‘assets manager,’ if I had to choose one,” she said, completely failing to answer your question or give you any other clue what, exactly, that was supposed to mean. The corner of her eyes tightened with a thought and she reached into a pouch on her belt.

You couldn’t help but flinch as she pulled something out and held it toward you, before you realized it was a small business card, very much like the one Bim gave you yesterday.

“Bronson Institute has a department dedicated to researching and treating those dealing with the effects of curses,” she said as you took the card, and presented Jameson with one of his own. “Something to consider, if the good doctors here aren’t able to provide the support you need.”

“Oh, uh, thank you,” you said, Jameson echoing your answer with a sign of his own. “We’ll think about it.”

The device on Harold’s wrist began to beep shrilly at that, causing him to mutter under his breath while he tried to reset it, but the so-called assets manager seemed to suppress a laugh before she responded, “Hang on to the cards, at least. You never know what might make you change your mind.”

You decided to play it safe and not answer this time, and she nodded to you and Jameson before turning to include the doctors as she added, “Thank you for your time, all of you. I think we can safely note for the record that Mr. Jackson here is hardly a werewolf.”

“As of today,” Harold corrected. “We retain any and all right to change our verdict, should future events change that.”

“Of course,” she answered in a flat monotone, showing great restraint not to roll her eyes. “Harold, you can handle the paperwork while I call this in.”

It wasn’t a question, and she walked out of the room without waiting for an answer, leaving Harold to dig around in his bag before presenting the doctor and Jameson with some papers to sign and keep for their records—papers that you insisted on reviewing before either one put down their name, although at least these turned out to be harmless confirmations that they had answered the investigators’ questions in the presence of a “deception detecting device.” That name was about the only thing you would have changed, if only because the thing seemed to have difficulty with anything that wasn’t an outright lie.

All the same, it was a relief when Google finally escorted Harold out of the room, the four of you all exhaling when Dr. Iplier made sure the door was closed and locked behind them this time.

“Vell, at least zhat seems to be behind us now,” Dr. Schneeplestein said, but even from across the room you could see his hands were shaking before he clasped them together. Neither of the investigators seemed to have given him a second thought, but even knowing he has fully registered, being this close to them had shaken him badly.

Badly enough that Dr. Iplier noticed and asked if he had taken his “quota” for the week yet, but Henrik just suggested under his breath that they could talk about it privately, later. At least from that, it sounded like he would tell the other doctor about what happened with Chase, so that was one weight off of your mind.

Only for another to press down again when Dr. Iplier reminded you of the conversation you had been having before the investigators interrupted.

“It’s entirely up to you, of course,” Dr. Iplier added, and you tried hard not to look down at the card in your hand.

Tried not to get your hopes up for anything even as you sighed and said, “I’m willing to try a few tests, if you think it will help. Henrik?”

“…As long as I can keep an eye on zhe process,” Schneeplestein answered, and despite his tone you thought he looked pleased with your answer. “Zhere is nothing to be lost by learning more about your condition, as long as ve keep zhe tests between us.”

Beside you, Jameson tucked his card into a chest pocket and gave you an encouraging thumb’s up, although his smile faded slightly when Dr. Iplier started talking about a few ways to examine his throat as well. It was starting to sound like you both had a long day ahead of you, but if either of the doctors could find something that might help…

After she left the room, the “assets manager” quickly found a quiet alcove in the hospital where she could see anyone coming from either direction at a distance and pulled out her phone. The number she put in wasn’t in her contacts, but one she had long since memorized.

When the other side picked up, she said without any kind of introduction, “The doctor stuck with his story, and they were able to pass the lie detector. Darrensworth is signing off that they’re in the clear now.”

“Really? That must have been an interesting conversation to listen in on. And the silver coin?”

“Doesn’t exactly tell you much if you hand it to the wrong person,” she answered, frowning at the chuckle on the other end of the line. “Say the word, and I’ll bring them in right now. I can think of three ways to walk them out the door without any backup, seven if you don’t mind a couple of casualties.”

“As tempting as that is, I don’t think it’s necessary.”

“What?” She paused long enough to bring her voice back under control before she said, “With all due respect, sir, we are dealing with a highly dangerous creature here.”

“The next full moon is still some time away,” he answered, and before she could point out that an unstable werewolf hardly needed a full moon to cause more than enough damage, he added, “I’m already making arrangements for someone else to collar them and bring them in, when the time’s right. Don’t you worry about a thing. I know this wolf and exactly what it’s capable of.”

She might have had something to say about his patronizing tone, if his words hadn’t summoned a vivid image in her mind that drowned out the voice on the other end telling her to come back, followed by the abrupt silence of the call ending. The phone slipped in the palm of her hand, but it and the hospital around her faded away into the vision.

An alley, and a shadow low and near the ground, nearly invisible in the darkness except for the silver eyes catching and reflecting the distant streetlights and the moonlight overhead, followed by a flash of white as jaws full of gleaming teeth revealed themselves.

A figure, silhouetted against the light of the street.

The beast, springing forward before she hissed, phone clattering against the ground as her fingers pressed against her temples, the vision fading into nothingness.

But not before she heard the gunshot, and the long, desperate cry.

By the time Harold, firmly escorted by Google, found her, she had recovered from her vision and come to the determination that, by the next full moon, you would be safely tucked away in the Institute. If his plan didn’t play out, then she would happily see to it herself. Whether it was by convincing you to come in search of treatment or by more forceful measure remained to be seen, but she would make sure that vision would be one of the many that never came to be.

For your own good, if nothing else.

((End of Part 26. Thank you for reading! No bonus points for guessing who that was on the phone...

And yeah, the “assets manager” is kind of a play on Celine’s character. Mostly because I got to this scene and realized I wanted that kind of character there, and partially because I’m running low on canon characters to shove into this AU. XD I haven’t decided on a name yet, but maybe Emma? Definitely open for suggestions there, and feel free to let me know what you think.

Link to Part 27: A Visit to the Institute.

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate @missksketch @autumnrambles @authorracheljoy @liafoxyfox @hidinginmybochard ))

[the-wandering-wayseeker]

Caught Unaware

On the Tangled Shore, just a couple miles from Spider’s lair, a campfire crackled and hissed. Atreyus sat a couple feet away on a makeshift stool and cooked a small slab of meat over the flames. His Ghost, Doc, softly played an audio file they had stumbled across during their last adventures to a region of the Americas referred to as the Southwest. The melody was soothing. The man singing had a rich, smooth voice and a slight drawl. His guitar playing was phenomenal. He sang of a place called Andilar, though Doc and Atreyus were carrying out discourse trying to figure out if the place truly existed or not.

“Look, after that time you had me convinced that door place from that Tall-keen book we found was real for months, I’m not inclined to believe you.” Atreyus folded his arms over his chest and scowled at his ever-faithful companion.

“That’s not how you pronounce…you know what? Never mind.” Doc’s shell twisted in minor annoyance. “I never said it was real. I said that it was the perfect literary representation of-”

The Hunter aggressively swung his hand at the Ghost. Doc was a few feet away, however, so the gesture was not intended to make contact. Atreyus would never hit Doc anyway. He respected him far too much. “And clearly I didn’t understand that! I told you I wanted to find it and see what kind of loot we could scavenge up to sell!”

Doc rolled his optic. “I had the faith in you that you were just carrying out a long-spread joke…”

Atreyus chuckled a bit. “Well, I suppose I appreciate you giving me the benefit of the doubt. You’ve always been a good partner.”

Though Atreyus and Doc had a great relationship, it was still very rare for the Hunter to compliment his Ghost. Surprised, Doc expanded a bit before literally pulling himself back together. “High praise, my friend.”

The duo fell silent and Atreyus finished up cooking his dinner. He threw salt and pepper onto it to give it some extra flavor. The simplicity and lack of real seasoning made him miss his kitchen at his home camp where he had all sorts of herbs and spices to make mouth-watering meals wrought with culinary synergy. As his stomach rumbled to remind him of his hunger, he went to alleviate it. Unfortunately his attempts were foiled when a sound like a thunder-crash tore through the air and his meal was ripped from his hands.

Atreyus recoiled and threw himself backwards behind a small rock formation. At the same instant, Doc transmatted out of harm’s way as well. The Hunter pulled his hand cannon from its holster and fired three quick shots towards his assailant by shooting over the rocks he had found himself behind.

“Doc?” Atreyus cried out.

The Ghost transmatted next to him. “I’m here. Are you hurt?”

The man shook his head. Minuscule shards of stone exploded outward as the aggressor began to fire upon the Hunter’s cover.

“Sounds like just one shooter. Were we followed?” Atreyus lifted his arm over the rocks and fired again, sending five more bullets flying wildly in the direction of the attacker.

Doc shook his core. “I don’t believe so. I was scanning every five minutes for a wide range of factors that could have given away the presence of an enemy.”

“Probably a rogue Lightbearer then. Maybe a friend of one of the ones we cut down yesterday…”

A high-pitched beep drew Atreyus’ attention to his left. While he had been talking to his Ghost, their attacker threw a grenade. To Atreyus’ surprise, it was not a grenade infused with Light or Stasis. It was a standard, run of the mill fragmentation grenade.

The Guardian shoved Doc against the rock face, pinning him there with the small of his back as he picked the grenade up. He went to throw it sidearm towards the attacker. It left his hand, but it only got a few feet away before exploding. Atreyus’ actions kept Doc safe, but a playing card sized chunk of shrapnel tore through his forehead, killing him instantly. Doc discharged a blinding flash of light at the same moment, hoping this ruse would be enough.

Doc did not resurrect his Guardian immediately, and he was glad he had made that choice. He heard the assassin approach Atreyus’ corpse cautiously. The Ghost did not worry about being found, as he had been forced into a small alcove by the weight of his friend’s body. Even if the enemy lifted it, Doc was deep within the rock formation. Four more shots ripped out, and the Ghost watched the bullets form exit wounds out of Atreyus’ back. Anger welled up within him, but he did nothing.

Doc couldn’t see the assailant, and that worried him. A distorted, robotic voice spoke out. It only took a moment to realize the voice belonged to an Exo, and it was speaking over comms.

“The target has been neutralized. His Ghost has been destroyed. Mission accomplished.” There was silence for several long moments. The response of whoever was on the other end, Doc figured. “Understood,” the Exo said finally. “Returning to base.”

Doc waited for a moment before slowly beginning the resurrection. His surreptitiousness was crucial in this moment. If the assailant caught wind of it at all, it would be over. On the other hand, Doc wanted to rez Atreyus quickly so that the Exo didn’t get away.

Doc brought him back, and Atreyus immediately grabbed his hand cannon from the ground. He whipped around and fired two shots through the head of the Exo before they were ever the wiser. For good measure, Atreyus walked over to where he had place his rocket launcher and picked it up. He triple jumped high into the air and blasted the corpse. It disintegrated in a flash of amethyst light, and Atreyus landed on the ground with a heavy sigh. His knees buckled and he fell to his rear end.

“We probably should have searched him, Atreyus. The intel that could have provided would have been nice…” the Ghost looked down on the Hunter as he floated over. “Are you alright?”

Atreyus nodded. “Yeah…I just got up way too fast. Probably should have played dead for a bit and gathered some more strength. Nice rez, by the way. Any idea who they were working for?”

“Unfortunately not. But I reckon whoever it is thinks us well and dead. Gives us room to track them down without having to look over our shoulders.”

The Hunter nodded and then stood, cracking his neck. He gave a small, devilish smirk to Doc and holstered his hand cannon. “Well then, partner, let’s get to work.”

[sweetest-honeybee]

To Hell and Back

Chapter 29

Summary: Wels has a bit of a...discussion...with The Lord of Darkness

Characters: Wels, The Lord of Darkness (Hels, Ex, Xisuma, Tango, Doc, Keralis, Beef mention)

TW: Wels gets attacked so uh there’s that I suppose but nothing overly descriptive or gorey

——————

Wels didn’t know where he was. He was floating in darkness, nothing around him, nobody there. Everything was deafeningly silent.

You’re one of my best soldiers, Wels.

He turned to look around, finding nobody.

Why do you want to run?

He turned again, eyes landing on something in the distance. Tall, had red eyes of some kind, and weirdly enough, whatever shadows the creature was made of, they still stood out on the Void where he was. It was painfully obvious that sea shanties weren’t getting this to quiet down. He opened his mouth anyways, finding that no sounds came out of it.

Weird.

Wels didn’t panic, not yet. It wasn’t worth panicking yet when he still didn’t know what he was here for. Lashing out would probably just try to make the situation worse and fuel that weird other side of him that seemed to crave violence. That must’ve been what happened before he blacked out again, but this time not returning to any familiar sights in the overworld. Then one particular memory stood out to him among the rest he tried to recall before this moment. Beef, Xisuma’s base, the obsidian cell, Doc complaining about how loud he was singing….what time was it? Had it been hours? Days? But nonetheless, he remembered the name of this vile creature.

The Lord of Darkness.

You remember me, don’t you, Wels.

The Lord was now by his side, clawed fingers trailing over his neck. Briefly, a sting shot through his throat and he gritted his teeth. With a cough, Wels let out a pained noise, then a gasp, then a growl, and finally he spoke.

“Why am I here.” He snapped his head towards The Lord. The creature laughed.

“You best not question The Lord of Darkness. Your little twin is beginning to realize that those efforts are futile.”

Wels raised a brow, The Lord stepping to stand tall in front of him. “Helsknight?”

The lord scratched at his chin thoughtfully. “Yes, he’s falling soft. He failed my tasks, so he’s being punished for his disobedience.” In his palm, The Lord generated a small glowing figure of Hels and another of Wels. “I might as well let you in on my little secret since you’ll never be revisiting your body permanently ever again.”

“Wait what? You can’t do that!”

A sinister chuckled left The Lord. “Oh but I can, watch.” The figure began moving, the little Hels growing wings and hovering above the other little knight. “Hels used to be my champion, my strongest soldier. He was fueled by more rage than I’ve ever seen in an Evil Hermit.”

Then, the Hels figure lost its wings and fell back onto his palm, looking around with confusion while the Wels figure drew his sword. Quickly, the sword was lifted above its head and brought down on Hels. The two dissipated into smoke.

“But you, you’re stronger. You have more will than anyone, I believe you could potentially replace him.” The figures reappeared as life sized holograms a few feet away from them. “So I’m using you to punish him.” A figure of Xisuma and Evil Xisuma also generated. “And these two as well. Evil Xisuma also failed my tasks so Xisuma will do my bidding.”

“What are you doing to us? How do you play a role?” Wels asked.

“Simple, I use their malicious energy to fuel you and Xisuma. Without that, they’re nothing and really,” he laughed, ”they will die but who am I to care about that.”

Wels was only further confused. “Then why isn’t Xisuma here?”

“Because, my dear knight,” he pulled Wels’s chin upwards, claws just barely grazing his cheek. “They don’t know what’s happening to him, yet.”

The world shifted around them, bringing them to the roof Toon Towers. A bit away from them, there was Tango curled up painfully and Wels saw himself standing with the bloodied sword. The redness of his eyes was so disturbing, even if he’d seen them on Hels. The scene began playing as if it was in fast forward, Ex killing Tango, Wels panicking, Xisuma and Doc landing on the roof. After a second, it slowed down again. Wels was tied up, the knight expected as much. Though, he did notice that Xisuma didn’t seem like himself. No red eyes or snarky insults, but practically felt it in his own face when X threw a punch at past-him because of a mere insult to his brother. After witnessing another punch being thrown, Wels had figured out what The Lord meant.

“Oh no….” he muttered. “He’s still in the overworld, isn’t he.”

“Yes, on his way to see Evil X now, in fact with your friend Keralis. I made my own little introduction to them in that cell. Impulse and Doc were easy kills.” The Lord pulled up a screen displaying Hels leaning against Ex on the ship, noticeably very tired and if Wels knew anything, he simply just looked sick. “Yesterday, he visited Evil Xisuma to discuss some private matters of their own.” The Lord began to laugh. “He thought a mere confession of love would break him out of my grip.”

“Confession of love? I thought he-“

“He’s all of your hatred, yes, but you Hermits seem to have a habit of changing my little minions. Evil Xisuma especially, I’d say the two have been quite….” The screen changed to the two Evil Hermits sharing a kiss. “Intimate.”

“Oh. Well, at least he’s happy, I suppose?” He glanced at The Lord. “Is that supposed to make me hate him or something? I don’t really have a problem with,” he gestured vaguely, “all that.”

A soft chuckle was heard from The Lord and he shook his head. “No, no, but it’s useful information for my scheme. Soon enough, they’ll be dead as long as I use you and Xisuma. And with you two, I’ll destroy your world.”

“Why do you want to destroy the server,” Wels interjected. “Every time someone from Hels comes here, you always have this intent to just….destroy everything we love.” He glared at The Lord. “And every time, you’ve failed.”

“I’m not the one failing, Welsknight. They do.” The Lord made the images and the figure around them dissipate with the wave of his hand. “I come from a world made of all hatred and malice. In Hels, it’s our responsibility to influence your world, since not everything is sunshine and rainbows.”

“And your point is?”

“We have our intentions and you have yours. If you met our world, just one at a time, you’d want to destroy it too.” He moved to stand beside Wels, staring off into The Void with the knight.

“We wouldn’t,” Wels muttered, his hands balling into fists. “If you know what happened then you should know that Xisuma’s reaction to Evil X was not to kill him or destroy the world he came from.” He stepped away from The Lord, eying him angrily. “You know what he did?”

“Oh, please humor me, Wels. What did he do.”

“He took him with kindness.”

“He banned him, Welsknight, one of the worst possible things that could happen to any of them. And he would’ve done the same to each and every one of us.” The Lord stood taller, eyes glowing a brighter red.

“And he realized his mistake.” The knight stomped with his continuation. “And we took him in with fairness, a promise. That we would never hurt him or anyone he considered a friend.”

“Watch your tone, boy.”

“And for months he’s grown! He’s not your little puppet anymore!”

“I said….” The Lord lifted his hand, fingertips glowing an every red, a ball of light emitting from his palm pointed towards the knight. “Watch your tone.” That said, the ball of light shot from his pal and knocked Wels back with a force to throw him at least twenty blocks.

He landed on his back on some kind of surface in The Void. Solid ground of some kind knocked the wind out of him and he turned over weakly with groan.

“You know I’m right,” he spat. Wobbling in the process, he stood up and turned to face The Lord of Darkness. “You’re attacking me because you know we can change Helsknight for the better! All of the Evil Hermits for the better!” Another blast sent him flying even farther away.

“You Hermits! That’s all you do! You steal my subjects away from me, changing them from what they were destined to be! Do you even know what you’re doing to the world by doing that?!”

Shakily, Wels pulled himself to his knees. “It’s,” he coughed, “It’s not their destiny.” He turned to The Lord. “They’re not made to be pulled around by chains their whole lives! You’re starving them of freedom!”

More balls of energy came and went, throwing the knight every which way. He was right, he knew he was with the confidence of a thousand men. Where they were, this was his mind. He should be the most powerful here, more than The Lord of Darkness, be he wasn’t. Farther and farther he went until The Lord decided he had enough of pathetic attempts at changing Wels’s mind. He stomped over to the knight who took another hit, just barely standing once more, and picked him up by the neck.

“You will regret this, Welsknight. Your world and everything you love will be gone once and for all and me and my minions will roam free of your pathetic lives. You all won’t be around anymore, destroying the balance.” Wels kicked and scratched at The Lord’s cold, dead hands around his throat but to no avail.

“You- you don’t need them for balance-“ the knight croaked. With that, the hand around his neck tightened further and it brought a whimper from him. “You’re wrong….”

“Am I? You don’t sound so sure, Welsknight.”

“I-“ He sputtered as he finally realized he couldn’t breathe anymore. “I can’t-“

“I think it’s time you sleep again, Wels.”

With a sickeningly crimson glow around the two of them, he closed his eyes knowing that this was probably the last time he’d be fighting his inner demons. He was exhausted in his own mind. Hurt, angry, guilty, just wishing for everything to be over.

He thought of Hels. How he finally found his own home and happiness and how it was going to be torn away from him. He thought of Beef, how he dragged him into all of this. Xisuma, Tango, poor Tango, the sight of the injured demon was still fresh in his mind. Impulse and Doc were killed by The Lord of Darkness, probably suffering as they speak. Wels began to feel like he’d done more harm than good, even if it wasn’t in his control. He was losing the trust of some of his closest friends who just wanted to help him out of this state of mind. It felt like a worthless attempt to fight any longer. He couldn’t change anything even when he wasn’t under false control.

So, with those final thoughts, he gave in. His mind still screamed at him to not let go but what was it worth if he tried. What did he gain from splitting headaches and aching limbs and just fighting. Who was he saving when it only brought more distress.

Maybe Xisuma would have better luck fighting off the voices in his head.

[cesium-sheep]

yesterday I:

fed the fish

watered plants

brushed my teeth

scooped cat litter

sent a scheduled message

updated twitch and yt accounts

messaged doc

robot vacuumed

dusted

formatted fic

cleaned robot vacuum

went to jeweler

texted mom

drew kirby

looked for arin’s earring

spot vacuumed

did duolingo

brushed my teeth again

gave jackie greenies

today I:

fed the fish

brushed my teeth

watered plants

made patreon favorites post

sent scheduled messages

printed stickers

fed jackie

cleared out drafts

formatted fic

watched naalbinding tutorial

crocheted

transcribed audio

checked mail

washed some dishes

drew kirby (last patreon drawing for the month)

talked to arin

fussed

calibrated cricut

cut stickers

cut envelope

updated kofi

sprayed stickers

packaged drawing

did duolingo

brushed my teeth again

fed jackie again

gave jackie greenies

y’know, I was actually (sort of) trying to take the day off both days. (yesterday was an earnest attempt but some cleaning needed to be done after putting the porch back together the day before, today I was like “eeh I’ll just get these couple things off my plate so I can take a real break later” and I did end up clearing very nearly all my (small and medium) to-do lists entirely! but I also did a lot of stuff. so.)

tomorrow I still need to mail the patreon drawing and photograph/post the sticker club stickers. and stuff I would’ve needed to do tomorrow no matter what like scoop cat litter and take a bath. send a scheduled message. call kelcey. still that’s really not much tho. (I peeked ahead and rescheduled queue refilling cuz I’ve got a couple weeks before it actually runs out.)