#he likes hard surfaces but he also likes the texture of the padding under this cat bed

[gae-bolg-alternative-dot-exe]

Look at this fool

[backtothefanfiction]

The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter 4: Some Shadows Loom Large

Summary: A new morning brings new realisations.

Warnings: 18+ Only, eventual smut, mob/mafia typical violence, graphic descriptions of death, angst, Harry Osborn (yes he does need his own warning)

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: This is one of those chapters where I have to start off by thanking @liz-allyn again and her Sugar and Vice series for its influence. Using the greater Spider verse crew as Peter’s team is genius so I had to adapt that into my story. This was originally two chapters but I have moved them both into one longer chapter for your enjoyment. This chapter starts to go into the business side of the things for Peter and Angel with a final reveal of who was Angel’s Dad in the second half of this chapter, (did you guess who it was?). Also there’s a nice little dramatic cliff hanger at the end too… Enjoy!

FOUR

She didn’t sleep, merely stared at the ceiling, trying to make out the rise and fall of the popcorn texture in the dark. Every now and again her ears would prick up at a sound down the hall; a shuffle of feet, the buzzing of a phone on the coffee table. Eventually she heard the sound of the front door close and she knew he had gone out.

She wasn’t sure when it had happened but at some time between him going out and returning, she had managed to fall asleep, the exhaustion of the evening and crash in adrenaline finally dragging her down into slumber. But it wasn’t for long. Not as long as she would have liked anyway.

It was the front door slamming closed again that put her on alert and woke her. The sound of voices out in the living room muttering before once again the door opened and then closed. Tentatively she pulled herself out of bed, her hand rushing for her shoulder as it groaned in pain at the sudden movement. The room was cold in comparison to where she had been tucked up all cosy in bed and she reached for a zip up hoodie hanging long forgotten on the back of the door.

She padded carefully down the hallway, unsure who she would find, if anyone at all. The very last thing she wanted to do was accidentally wake up May and have her stare at her again, that cold hard look in her eyes.

She entered the living space to find Peter sat forward on the sofa, elbows resting on his knees as he looked down at his phone. His fingers typed furiously before he seemed to change apps or text message conversations or whatever he was doing and began typing out something completely new.

He could feel her presence looming in the doorway but he was too tired to care.

“Didn’t you get any sleep at all.” her soft voice dreamily carried over to him, concern dripping from every word.

He took a quick look out the window towards the rising sun then sighed, letting his hand with his phone in it hang limply between his legs as he sat back, his other hand coming up to rake across his face, rubbing at his tired under eyes.

“Peter?” she said his name so softly it made him want to melt. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t allow himself to let his guard down right now, there was too much at stake.

“I called Harry and got him to stop by and check out the house, see how bad it was.” He couldn’t look at her, his face returning to his phone screen instead.

“And?”

The simple innocent inflection to her word finally made him look at her. His stomach turned, his anger coming to bubble under the surface again. How could she be acting so naive right now when their home, their safe space, had been invaded, by the man she brought home. The danger she brought into their lives. “Really?” his voice came out harsher than he wanted and he instantly wished he could take it back.

She didn’t say anything back, just folded her arms and stared at him. There it was again, that new hardened look in her eye, reminding him of all that time, all that change that sat between them. She had said yesterday she had always wanted to come back. That she always would come back, but was that what he wanted. Right now she was still almost a stranger to him.

“Well they completely ransacked the place for a start.” he huffed.

“Did they find anything?” Her voice was genuine, somehow still soft despite his hardened demeanour.

“Thankfully no.” he said, allowing himself to relax back into the sofa with a loud huff.

She watched him closely as he lay his head back against the back of the sofa. His eyes closed as he allowed himself the briefest of moments to relish in that particular piece of news. She slowly crept forward, perching herself on the arm of the faded armchair across from him as she waited for him to continue.

“Thankfully I stopped taking important bits of work home after you left. Made sure I started leaving it in the office instead.”

He didn’t need to say it, but she knew what he meant. After she had left he didn’t have a reason to be home on time, a need to bring work home to continue after dinner, after his designated time spent with her. He could stay as late at the office as he needed, no one staying up, waiting for him to come home.

“Okay, so what’s the bad news?” she said when he remained silent for too long.

That’s when he looked at her with pity in his eyes. “They, um… After they left the house they went to the docks.”

“Okay.” she said quietly, letting him know she was following him, but he couldn’t look at her, couldn’t speak, almost like he was trying to protect her from something. “Pete.” she said forcefully.

“They burnt down the Anchor,” he said. His gaze was cold. “They took all the goods out of it and then torched it.”

She was quiet for a moment before she said, “Wasn’t anyone watching it?”

The Anchor was her father’s biggest stronghold and warehouse. The first point of call for all imports. Guns, drugs, black market antiques. Everything that came into the country through her father’s business was first inventoried at the Anchor. She couldn’t understand how it could get jumped, there were always men on guard on a regular rotation, always armed, always alert. She watched as Peter’s face fought the grimace that wanted to spread across his face as he tried to fight away the memory from the night before long enough to tell her.

“They um…” he stuttered again.

“Peter!” she spoke more forcefully.

He quickly stood in reaction to her voice. “They hung them from chains and attached them to the front of the building.” he snarled at her, a hard look in his eyes, trying to press the severity of their situation into her.

His gutt twisted as he watched her face fall into a look of shock and horror as she processed what he said, her own image of what he had said forming in her head. Peter hated the feeling of satisfaction her look of distress somehow gave him in that moment. She quietly shifted herself to sit properly in the arm chair, unable to meet his eyes as the images of those poor men, all of their charred bodies, just hanging there.

“Were they already dead when he…” she couldn’t bring herself to finish the question.

“Don’t ask that. Don’t torture yourself like that.” His voice softened as his protective side suddenly kicked in again at the vulnerability in her voice. He crouched down in front of her, trying to get her to look at him, to focus on him instead of whatever was currently going through her head.

“How’s your arm?” he asked gently, trying to change the subject and pull her mind from its spiral. His fingers carefully reached for the top of the hoodie to pull it to the side slightly, allowing the baggy fabric to drop off her shoulder so he could lift the arm of her t-shirt to take a look at it.

“It’s okay, it just aches a little when I move it.” she quietly said, her head turning towards him slightly, eyes finally meeting his. She hated how vulnerable his touch made her. That look of concern in his warm brown eyes made her want to melt under his gaze. She couldn’t help but glance at his lips, just the briefest of moments, but it was enough to make that want for him return to her. Just like after he had stitched her up last night, if they moved their heads to the side ever so slightly their lips would meet. If she leaned in just that little bit she’d finally find that feeling she had been craving for, she didn’t want to think how long.

She felt like her heart was in her mouth, ready to leap out at any moment. She was sure he could feel it. Knew he’d seen her eyes drop down to his mouth again and back up. Her chest felt like it was being torn open as he suddenly stood.

“I think May should have some prescription painkillers left over in the cupboard. I’ll go check.” he said as he turned his back to her.

She couldn’t help but close her eyes, the sting of her growing tears unbearable. She breathed deeply, willing them away before he returned. This was all her fault and she needed to deal with the consequences she told herself. She was a fool for thinking she’d just walk back into his life and he would just roll over for her and everything would go back to how it was.

“Here.” he said, holding out the small plastic tube of pills, rattling it slightly in front of her, forcing her to take them from him.

She was about to say thank you, when there was another rap on the door. Peter’s hand absentmindedly brushed across to top of her back as he walked past her towards the door to answer it. She shrunk back into the chair, her fingers picking at the lid to the bottle of pills.

“Thank’s Miles.” she heard Peter say.

“No problem Boss.” a youthful yet deep voice replied before the door was closed again.

When Peter walked back into the room he had a large dry cleaning bag in his hand, he folded it over his forearm, his finger toying with the hooks and he stood staring at her. For a moment he thought he saw a glimpse of the girl he once knew, the angel in a den of vipers, innocent, sweet, but he knew she hadn’t been that for a long time, even before she left and changed again.

“What’s that?” she asked and he realised her eyes were now focused back on him.

“I had Miles run down to the storage locker with all your stuff, pick out a few pieces of clothes for you and run them to the dry cleaners and get them to rush them so you could have something of your own to wear.”

She slowly crossed the room to him as he spoke, her fingers reaching for the bag. “Thank you.” she said, taking it from him, her fingers reaching for the zip to find which long forgotten treasures lay inside. Her eyes caught a brief flash of red before Peter cleared his throat drawing her attention back to him. He then pulled out a small lingerie store bag.

"There's also this.” he said, holding it out to her on the tip of his finger. She hesitantly took it from him. “It’s okay, there’s nothing special in there, just regular underwear.” She stayed quiet as she took a step back from him. “Umm, go get yourself dressed, we’re meeting Harry in the Kitchen for breakfast in an hour.”

She remained silent as she turned her back on him, making her way back down the hall to the bedroom. Peter couldn’t help but stand frozen, staring at her. Even after she closed the door he still couldn’t pull his eyes away from the wooden door.

He eventually let himself fall back onto the sofa, his back leaning into the old cushions as he hooked his fingers between the buttons of his shirt. They latched onto a silver chain that hung low on his chest, pulling it out from the confines of his shirt. His fingers wrapped delicately around the small ring, threaded onto the fine chain links, turning it back and forth.

He had kept wearing it for a further 6 months after she left but as the months went on, he began to feel like it was suffocating him. 4 Months after she had left he had hired Felicia. Another month after that he had started sleeping with her. He’s still not even sure if it was a decision he had made. The young platinum beauty knew exactly what she wanted and knew exactly how to get it.

She didn’t want a relationship, no special treatment, she just wanted to fuck the famous Spider. But for all her forwardness she did have her moments of compassion. She had noticed when he began to slip it off of his finger before they had sex, leaving it on his desk or his bedside table before they fucked. His fingers would reach for it during their come down, his fingers turning the band back and forth before he put it back on. She noticed when it took him longer to start reaching for it.

One day she turned up with the chain for him, he didn’t ask how she had acquired it, just took it from her and thanked her and from then on, that was where the ring stayed. The only time he took it off now was to shower, he didn’t even take it off to sleep.

He had noticed the moment he’d seen her in the house she still wore hers. As he stitched her up last night, he couldn’t help but feel guilty as he watched the way her fingers clinged to the side of the bath, both her wedding and engagement rings flexing around the tightened muscles.

He slowly pulled the chain over the top of his head before he found the clasp and undid it. He held out his palm underneath the chain as he let the ring drop into his hand, separating it from its temporary home. He placed the chain to one side before turning the gold band back over in his fingers again. His eyes looked up to the closed door, fell back to the ring in his fingertips again, then sighed as he placed the ring back onto his ring finger.

———————————————

She was grateful when she found her old stash of makeup hiding out in the back of his old wardrobe, hidden behind his jumpers May just couldn’t seem to get rid of, along with the rest of his things. She knew she couldn’t use the foundation or concealer, both long split and looking less favourable, but she was more than pleased to find one unopened eyeliner pen and a bright red lipstick from a set she was given by her mother that she had never worn at the time, but seemed to be her perfect shade now.

When she came out of the room wearing a white jumpsuit and red blazer, that just so happened to match her lipstick shade perfectly, Peter was stunned. He suddenly froze, his consistent pacing on his phone for the last 15 minutes, completely forgotten. It took all of his effort not to say the words that were screaming in his head, yet he still managed to sigh the word ‘wow’ barely audibly as her heels clicked their way into the room.

He quickly covered it with a small cough, clearing his throat, before he said, “You ready to go?” He quickly looked away from her, checking his phone so she wouldn’t think he was staring at her.

She quickly turned, checking herself on last time in a mirror, flicking her hair back gently over her shoulders with her good hand. “Yeah, I think this’ll do.” She turned back towards him with a tight lipped smile.

“Okay, then. After you.” He said, holding his hand out in a gesture that ushered her towards the door.

***

They met Miguel downstairs out the front of the building. The silver Porsche from the night before, now nowhere to be seen. Instead a black Mercedes sat flush to the curb which Miguel was conveniently leaning against, his arms folded, fingers drumming against the tight sleeves of his black button up. Peter had opened the rear passenger door for her with one hand whilst the fingers of the other absentmindedly fiddled with the button on his own blazer, unfastening it as his eyes scanned the street protectively, waiting for her to get in.

It seemed old habits really did die hard, as when he looked down to check she was in the back of the car okay, he quickly realised she had slid all the way across to the other side of the car allowing him space to get in beside her. He climbed in, giving a brief nod to Miguel, who quickly turned and climbed into the driver's seat, both doors slamming closed at the same time. Miguel then quickly pulled out into traffic and they sped off across the city.

***

The car slowed, pulling over to an empty spot on the street, as they approached the Diamond. There were already a few people sitting eating on the tables out front and there was a steady line inside of people heading up to the cashier to order food and drinks. As she glanced over the flowerbeds that surrounded the outside seats, it didn’t take too long for her eyes to rest on Harry Osborn, sitting at a table in the sunshine, his shades on facing the direct sunlight as he waited. He was joined by 5 other guys spread out across two tables of 4 that were seated fairly close together. Every single one of them wearing black.

“Oh well if it isn’t her majesty come back to grace us with her presence.” Harry quipped as Angel made her way over to the table, her heels clacking loudly on the ground.

“Harold.” she gested back as Peter came up beside her, his hand reaching to pull out her chair. “Thank you.” she muttered to him as she took her seat and he gently pushed it in.

It didn’t take Harry long to notice his best friend had started wearing his wedding ring again and he couldn’t help but make a comment as Peter sat down across from him.

“Well that didn’t take long.” he said, lowering his sunglasses, his intentional gaze at the ring screaming all the things he really wanted to say.

“Shut Up, Harry.”

“Yes, Boss.” Harry sassed as he pushed his sunglasses back up his nose and relaxed back in his chair.

She hadn’t noticed it on the car ride over. His fingers had been turned away from her, wrapped around his phone which he now reached into his pocket for again, opening it up, typing a couple word response, before he lay it on top of the table between them.

“Umm good morning Miss Fisk.” A young woman who looked no older than 19 came up to the table.

“How many times have I told you Kate, that my name is actually Mrs Parker.” she said to the young girl kindly, the two gentlemen at the table exchanging awkward glances to one another.

“But your Father said-”

“Kate, my Father’s dead, he doesn’t even own this place anymore. Actually my husband here does," she cut her off as kindly as she could, her hand motioning to Peter sat somewhat intimidatingly next to her. She knew it wasn’t the young girl's fault. Her Father was a pretty stubborn man and when he was the boss, what he said went, even for her. She gently nudged Peter’s arm, catching his attention. He gave her a brief look before he turned his body towards the young girl extending his hand for her to shake.

“Nice to meet you, Kate, was it?”

“Umm, yes Sir.” she replied timidly, a small blush rising to her cheeks as she met his eyes.

“Well Kate, it’s lovely to meet you.” Harry chimed in, ever the charmer, his own hand extending to shake hers too. “I’m Harry.” he beamed with a sickly sweet smile.

“Pack it in Osborn, she’s only 19.”

“Yes, your majesty.” He spoke like a child who had just been told off by his Mother.

“Umm, can I get you anything from our menu today?” Kate nervously asked the table.

“Actually, yes Kate, you can.” Harry sat forward enthusiastically as he grabbed the menu off the table. “I will take your stack of extra chocolate chip pancakes, with a side of bacon aaaannnd can I also get a blueberry, mango smoothie.” he said, flipping the menu to read the drinks off of the back.

“Umm, yup.” Kate said, noting down the order. “Anything else?” she quickly said, turning her body cheerfully towards the other side of the table.

“I’ll just take a Latte please.” Angel, politely requested.

Peter wasn’t satisfied by this though, turning to fix her a look that implied he was not about to watch her go on hunger strike. “Ummm, no, we’ll take two traditional English breakfasts please, can you swap out the mushrooms on hers for avocado though and can I get two eggs on mine not just the one.”

“No.” his wife quickly protested, despite being impressed he still remembered her food preferences. She shot him a look that told him to respect her wishes but his own look told her he was not about to back down. “Fine.” she said before turning back to Kate. “Can I just get avocado and poached eggs on toast?” She would feel less guilty about the food wastage once her churning stomach inevitably prevented her from eating.

“Yeah, no problem.” the young girl replied.

Finally satisfied, Peter turned his gaze away from his wife and back to the waitress. “Can I also just get a black coffee?” he asked.

‘Yes, of course. Is that everything?” she asked sweetly.

“Yes, I believe it is.” Harry said, leaning forward once more, sliding his sunglasses down his nose so he could bat his eyelashes at her and make her blush, for which he quickly received a kick under the table. “Ouch.” he glowered at Angel across the table. “Jeez and I thought you were supposed to be an Angel.” Harry grumbled under his breath.

“Just a nickname I’m afraid.” she snarked at him.

“Thank you.” Peter said to the young girl, quickly dismissing her before more of a scene could be created. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Peter growled at his friend across the table. “Why can’t you be fucking nice?”

“I am fucking nice.” Harry protested but he was quickly cut off by the arrival of a final person to their little breakfast meeting, a thick manila file being slapped down onto the table before Eddie Brock took the final seat at the table beside Harry.

“Boss, Angel.” he greeted them nicely before giving a light smack to the back of Harry’s head. “Bozo.”

Harry rubbed the tender spot on the back of his head as Peter reached across the table for the file. “I’m not a bozo.” He grumbled under his breath.

“What have you got?” Peter asked as he began to flick through the pages.

“Not much, the man’s a ghost. Until he showed up a couple months back and started picking off King Pin’s properties and causing a bit of havoc, it’s like the guy barely existed, just rumours.” Eddie informed them.

Peter froze as his gaze fell on a photograph of his late Father in law’s body. He cringed at the image of his body splayed out on the ground, his brains smashed into the concrete, a vision of black, white and red. His body grew tense as he tried to tilt the file away from his wife’s view, but something within him knew it was probably futile. Knew that she’d already seen it, figured she’d have been the one to identify the body, his only living relative, yet still he didn’t want to force her to relive that. He quickly turned the page in an attempt to stop his own thoughts betraying him into thinking of his own untimely death, shaking off any notion or possibility of weakness, before it took hold.

“What are we gonna do about the Anchor?” her voice asked timidly across the table. She wasn’t used to being as involved in Peter’s work stuff, being included in the roundtable discussions, but they all knew that was different now.

“I mean, not much to do, the place is charcoal.” Harry said tactlessly.

“No. I mean, what about the stuff that was stolen.” she rebutled, already growing irritated with Harry’s attitude.

“Well, Felicia’s already scanning the black market for anyone trying to flog any of it, but I doubt she’s gonna have much luck. A guy like that isn’t in it to make a buck off of some stolen goods.” Harry spoke with an air of nonchalance.

Angel couldn’t help but wonder who Felicia was at that moment. It was a new name for Peter’s usual circle and a female one at that. A pang of jealousy started to root within her stomach and she crossed her legs under the table nervously in an attempt to hide her jitters and compose herself.

The young girl, Kate, returned to their table with their drinks, Harry throwing out a sickly sweet and over the top “Thank you, Kate.” as she placed his smoothie in front of him and he leaned forward pulling the cup towards him and sucking the straw into his mouth suggestively. The whole scene made Angel’s eyes roll, forcing her to look out onto the street and people watch instead.

“Would you pack it in?” Peter said with a fixed furrow to his brow. Harry’s eyes fell to his lap as he twiddled his thumbs. “Did you get the list of assets?” Peter asked Eddie.

“Uh, yeah, it’s right… here.” Eddie said, reaching into the inside pocket of his leather jacket and pulling out a folded piece of paper.

Peter took it and looked it over before handing it to Angel. “I need you to check this.” he said as she took it from him.

“What is it?”

“It’s the full list of properties your Dad left me… us.” he quickly corrected himself. “I need you to put a star next to the ones you think the Vulture is gonna find the most valuable so we can supply extra protection. I’ve got a vague idea of the ones we think would be important, but you knew his business better than us, if there are any weaknesses.”

It was then that their food arrived. Drinks were moved, plates and cutlery laid out so they could tuck in. “Uhh I’m fucking starving.” Harry groaned as he eyed up his breakfast. “-HEY.” he swatted at Eddie’s hand as he reached for a slice of his bacon. “Get your own food.”

“What because you’re gonna eat all that.” Eddie retorted.

It was like having a family meal, Angel noted. Eddie and Harry acting as the two kids who struggled to behave, her and Peter the parents trying to act more poised and controlled.

She picked at her food and sipped her coffee as the men continued to discuss their plan for the day, Harry was to organise teams to hit the different locations to do a full assessment on each one so they could familiarise themselves with any weaknesses and construct a plan on how they would inevitably bring them into the Web. Eddie, meanwhile, was tasked with trying to dig up any more dirt on the Vulture that he could.

“And what about me?” she questioned Peter as they made their way back to the car.

“You’re gonna go home and-” his sentence was cut off when Angel’s shoulder collided with a random gentleman’s on the street.

“Oh sorry.” she blindly threw out to him but then she froze when the man turned towards her and she saw who it was.

“No, it was my fault, no harm done.” He said, his voice oozing with charm. Then his face changed, a glimmer of recognition taking over him. “Oh, my. Angel? Little Angel Fisk? My how you’ve grown.” he said.

Peter watched his wife closely as she remained frozen, that look of fear he saw in her eyes at the dinner table the night before, slowly creeping its way back in, putting him on the alert.

“Oh and this must be the husband. You know, I’d heard you’d gotten married. I bet your Dad didn’t feel too great about his only little girl growing up and leaving the nest, I know I wouldn’t. Sorry I haven’t introduced myself.” he said turning to Peter who was tense and alert, trying to assess what was going on. “My name’s Adrian.” He said reaching out his hand to Peter to shake. “Adrian Toomes. I’m an old friend of her Dad’s. Or at least I was.” He continued turning back away from Peter and back to Angel. “I was so sorry to hear about what had happened.” His voice was overly charismatic, like a businessman trying to schmooze a client and it made Peter uncomfortable. “It really is a tragic thing.” He said, placing a hand on her shoulder. Peter watched unsure what to do as she quickly shrugged him off.

“Anyway, I better run. It was lovely to meet you uh,” he held his hand out in Peter’s direction, silently asking him to fill in the blank.

“Peter.”

“Peter.” Adrian repeated. “Angel.” he turned and addressed her with an over the top smile and a wink before he continued on up the street.

Peter stared at the man’s back as his wife slowly began to recover, turning back towards him.

“Who was that?” Harry asked, as he came up behind Peter.

“That was him.” she said quietly. “He’s the Vulture.”

————————————

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[nomsugayoongi]

Recurring

Pairing: Jungkook X OC female

Warnings: None yet.

Synopsis: Jungkook meets the girl of his dreams...but the problem is exactly that. She's in his dreams.

Note: So I had this really bizarre idea for a fluff fest (and eventual smut fest because it's JK and I can't help myself) It's written and edited on a phone so forgive any mistakes and don't be afraid to let me know what you think.

"Huh?"

Jungkook looked around. He didn't know this street. Nothing looked familiar. Not the tall, grey buildings, not the neon lights casting colourful shadows on the dark pavement, nothing. He frowned, eyes scanning the signs on the building right beside him. It was one of those 24 hour convenience stores. The lights were on but he couldn't see anybody inside. No cashier behind the counter. No customers. He had no idea what time it was. Come to think of it, he didn't actually have any idea about anything. He felt a splash of water hit his face and glanced up at the dark sky. No stars. No moon. Just....black. The glow from the street lights cast faint beams and highlighted the beginning drops of rain. He looked down at the pavement. He didn't have shoes on. His bare feet looked strange against the concrete but he couldn't feel the cold ground. His frown deepened as he scraped his foot lightly against the path, expecting to feel the rough texture but feeling nothing. The rain started coming faster, droplets hitting the back of his neck as he stared down at his feet. He wasn't afraid. Even in this strange situation, with not a soul in sight, there was no fear. Just curiosity. He looked either side of him then down the dark street ahead. There was something glowing at the end of the street that piqued his interest. A soft, warm ball of light that flickered slightly even though there was no wind.

He started walking, the rain coming down harder, huge splotches soaking through his t shirt yet he didn't feel particularly cold. He looked in the windows of the closed shops as he walked past, the silhoutte of the items in the window seeming even darker against the faint light bouncing off the glass. It was so quiet. No traffic sounds, no voices. Just the sound of the rain hammering against the pavement. As he approached the end of the street, he squinted at where the light now seemed bigger and brighter. Pure darkness spanned out in front of him, but it was moving, shimmering and rippling as the rain hit the surface. Water. A lake or something. He couldn't tell how big it was. The darkness of the water sort of blending into the darkness of the night and made one big horizon of black. As he approached the edge of the water, he noticed that the ball of light that had caught his attention was a gently swinging lamp hung inside a gazebo. A rickety looking wooden Jetty connected the floating gazebo to the embankment and he quickened his pace to get to it, mainly because the rain was now hammering down so hard that he was drenched from head to toe but also because the soft glow of light against the stark backdrop of darkness was very inviting. He made his way up the jetty, hearing the wooden slats creak and groan under his feet then smiling as he reached the gazebo. It was cute. It seemed....out of place. An octagonal, wooden structure with a slate roof and half open sides. Benches ran around each edge, padded with thick, comfy looking cushions. A lantern hung from the center of the roof, swaying slightly above a small table. It really was out of place. It looked brand new, like something you'd see in the garden section of an IKEA catalogue. He wondered whether he was ok to sit since he was wet through but it was literally the middle of the night and there wasnt a soul around, so he sat, picking the edge closest to the open water and facing out so he could watch the rain bounce off the water's surface. He liked the overlapping circular ripples it created, like an intricate pattern on the glassy surface. It was nice. Absolute silence apart from the rain and the sound of his own steady breathing. He felt calm. Peaceful. Content even. Happy to just sit in the darkness and listen to the rain. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, the smell of the water and fresh rain causing a small smile to play around his lips.

"Hey. Soggy boy. What you doing in my dream?"

His eyes snapped open and he looked around wildly. "What the hell?" He muttered, confused. Stood at the entrance to the gazebo was a girl, her arms folded across her chest as she surveyed him. There was no way she could have snuck up. He would have heard her footsteps on the crappy old jetty. "Where did you come from?" He frowned, looking around with bemusement. "What do you mean where did I come from? It's my dream. Where did you come from?" She retorted. He looked back towards the street where everything was still exactly the same. No people. No sound. "I was over there." He muttered, pointing. "Wait...dream?" He questioned, completely confused. She nodded. "Yeah. This is my dream spot. I've been here loads of times. Want to tell me why you're crashing my dream? And why you're dripping on my cushions?" She said, arms still folded expectantly. "It's raining." He said stupidly. "I got caught in it. Wait...why aren't you wet?" He asked, suddenly noticing that she was stood among the falling rain but was bone dry. "It's my dream." She repeated slower, as though he was kind of dumb. "I decide what happens. I didn't decide on you though. Why are you here?" She asked, a frown creeping between her brow. He shrugged, still looking around curiously. "Dunno. Are you sure it's your dream? I think it might be mine." He reasoned. That would make sense. Not knowing where he was, the bare feet, the body temperature rain, the entire lack of life signs. "It's definitely mine." He muttered, more to himself than to her. "Yeah, cause I went to bed after practise and woke up here...except I didn't wake up. I must still be asleep. Huh! That's pretty cool." He said, a slow grin spreading across his face at the idea of being aware of his own dream. "Excuse me. Soggy boy. If it's your dream then why am I in it and why are you having it in my dream space?" She asked. He shrugged again, finally looking at her. She had long dark hair that was poker straight and impossibly shiny, it fell around a cute face, huge, sparkly eyes, button nose, pouty lips. Good cheekbones. She was short but curvy. Her expression displaying her curiosity. Definitely his dream. She looked like a strange Mish mash of all the things he liked in a girl. She was cute. Very cute. "Does it matter if it's your dream or my dream? Either way, it isn't real. Whoever is dreaming will wake up at some point and it'll end anyway. Why waste it trying to figure out whose head were in?" He reasoned. She nodded slowly, thoughtfully. "Yeah I guess. I'm just...not used to anyone being here." She shrugged. "Well I'm not here technically." He mused. "Neither are you." She hummed, studying him curiously. She'd dropped her folded arms and had taken a seat on the bench opposite his. She was staring at him intently. "You got a name or should I just keep calling you soggy boy?" She asked. "Jungkook" he smiled. "Huh?" She said, eyebrow raised. "Jungkook" he repeated. "Why the face?" She shook her head, still looking a little bemused. "That's not an English name." She muttered. He chuckled, now also looking bemused. "Why would it be? I'm not English." He replied. "But you've lived here a while? Your accent." She muttered. "Lived where? What accent?" He frowned. "In England." She stated. He chuckled again. "What are you talking about? I don't live in England. I've never lived in England. I barely know how to speak English although I've been learning for years. English is hard." He mused. "But you're speaking English now." She exclaimed. He frowned, laughing. "No. I'm speaking Korean." He said slowly. She looked like her head was about to explode. "No. You're definitely speaking English. I understand you. How would I understand you if you were speaking Korean?" She said, puzzled. "YOU'RE speaking Korean." He frowned. "EH? I'm speaking English. I wouldn't be able to speak Korean if my life depended on it, let alone carry out a whole ass conversation with some soaked stranger in my dream gazebo." She said defensively. He couldn't help but laugh. As far as dreams went, this was by far one of his most

interesting. "Ok. So you're speaking English. I'm speaking Korean...yet we understand each other. Cool." He smiled. She continued to look confused. "Ok so....Jungkook right?" She asked. He nodded. "Are you from Korea?" Again he nodded. "And to you it sounds like I'm speaking Korean?" Another nod. "Hmmphhh. I've had some pretty weird dreams before but this one takes the cake."

It felt like hours passed as they talked. He found out her name, that she was 2 years older than him and English. She worked in a hospital during the night and slept during the day. He told her about himself, the band, his band mates, he touched on what his life was like but didn't go into it much. It was nice to just talk to someone, even if he had to dream them up to do it. Without him even realising, the darkness surrounding them had begun to melt away, the sky lightening into colourful purples and eventually soft pinks as the sun came up. He didn't notice when the rain stopped or the silence gradually giving way to the sound of chirping birds. He was too engrossed in conversation to pay attention to his surroundings. He'd liked the sense of solitude when he first got here but quickly preferred having someone to talk to. She was attentive and interested, listening and asking questions, laughing when he made a joke. He felt...normal, which was nice. He was almost disappointed when she pointed out that time was almost up. He looked around, surprised. "When did daytime happen?" He frowned. She chuckled, rolling her eyes. "Somewhere between your pressures as an idol and my frustrations at work." She shrugged. He gazed at the water, now noticing the lush green trees that surrounded the embankment, the colour of the sky, the sparkly surface of the water. "Wow. This place is beautiful." He muttered, eyes skimming his surroundings in awe. She smiled, nodding slowly. "It's my favourite place." She said softly. "Where is it? Is it real?" He questioned. Nothing about it was familiar to him. "I don't know. I've never actually been. I just...dreamed it once and liked it so I kept coming back. A lot of my dreams happen here." She sighed. He nodded thoughtfully. "I hope I come back." He whispered. "Yeah, you didn't get to try any of the cool dream stuff." She chuckled. He raised an eyebrow, pulling his eyes from the beautiful scenery to look at her. "What cool dream stuff?" She rolled her eyes again, making him feel like a rookie. "Y'know. The stuff you can't do when you're awake. Flying, floating, changing stuff, making yourself different. It's your head. Your dream. You control it. Once you realise you're dreaming, the laws of the universe become more flexible. Dreams don't care about gravity or continuity. Your head. Your rules." She explained. He looked at her wide eyed. "Really?" He muttered. She laughed, her laugh was musical and made him feel warm. "Mmm hmm. The trick is to realise you're dreaming quickly, gives you more time to play." Her smile was childlike, eyes twinkling with excitement. It was infectious, provoking his own giddy smile. "Is there time now? Quickly?" He asked. She hummed, looking at the sky. "Don't think so. Look." She pointed upward, his eyes followed. The sky seemed to be fading. He blinked a couple of times, trying to focus but everything was blurring. "No. I'm not ready yet." He frowned. He gripped the cushion in his fists, trying to hold on. "I want to stay." He heard her light, musical laughter but it sounded further away. "I hope you're here next time. See you, soggy boy."

Jungkook awoke, blinking rapidly as he looked around. He was in his bedroom. He sat up, frowning, his stomach still churning. He rubbed his eyes with a sigh. Of course he was in his bedroom. Where else would he be. Still, that was some dream. He looked at the familiar surroundings feeling almost a pang of sadness. "That was a good dream." He whispered to himself, feeling almost silly that a small part of him was already hoping to go back.

[starvels]

1. I bet Steve gives AMAZING back massages, his knowledge of physiology, self muscle control, and artist hand sensitivity makes for a world class masseuse. and

2. Tony has the misfortune of both being jerked around at high speed on his muscles/joints AND you know he hunches over his work and typing like a gremlin. Ergonomics? Straight backed posture? Sitting in a chair properly? Taking breaks to stretch? idk her. (But you know he insists on his employees both having to most ergonomic equipment and are encouraged to stretch and take walks. HE sits cross legged on his fancy office chair desk AFTER he got thrown into a wall the day before)

So 3. Steve, who has given other people on the team a back rub when asked, is kinda horrified and motived once he feels the bag of rocks and sticks that is Tony’s back and shoulders after a friendly shoulder clap. They are going to FIX this meet him in the medical bay in 2 hours

1. absolutely agree!! i think there should be a ton more content about steve being attuned to temperature/texture/pressure differences and combining that with a very hard won knowledge of the human body and also violence and first aid!! there's a ton of material for it and i think casual use of superhero powers is always gonna compel me a bit more than big intergalactic uses.

2. lol to tony giving his employees giant health care spending accounts but not taking advantage of it on his own, yeahhh. we love that for stark employees tho!

for non-mcu tony, i do think he likes a comfy chair tbh! he obvs respects good product design a lot, and has a very intense amount of knowledge about his own biology and body. probably enough to have neck pillows, heating pads, health and safety protocols etc. and we do have canonical evidence of him using first aid - bandages, medication, a wheelchair, etc. so i think the idea of care isn't hard so much as it is accepting care (from someone, instead of working, etc). if that makes sense haha.

for fucking sure though, tony should have a lot more motion and collision injuries! lots of longterm trauma and nerve damage and spinal issues. boy should perpetually be walking around with WAD. ults in a lot of ways makes much more scientific sense - put someone in a tin suit and put a layer of gooey liquid to protect their sensitive organs from damage from being yunno hit perpetually against METAL. but alas, suspension of disbelief for comics. it's fine. but i would like to see it explored more >:) maybe i will do that.

3. i DO agree that steve should be horrified at the amount of tension tony carries in his shoulders. a fun personal annecdote is that my partner carries all tension in the shoulders as well and i am the masseuse in our relationship and sometimes i will put my hands on partner's shoulders and genuinely encounter a metal impenetrable surface instead of regular shoulder blades kgjnsbkj. so! i think there's a whole lot of jokes here about tony in the chest plate and being made of metal, etc.

3b. i find it equally compelling if tony is determined to reverse the favor and gets steve on a flat surface only to discover that steve heals so fucking fast sometimes he just gets KNOTS of scar tissue under his skin and he's super fucking casual about it, "oh it goes away in a week or two," and tony's like, what the fu cK.

superhero bodies! weird! wild! great :''')))

[ginkgomoon]

Gavin’s Mini House In Detail 🏡

During the Mini House special events, I obtained all the furnishing items and had already unlocked all the furniture in the home so I thought for Gavin’s Birthday Week, I would share all of the little secrets it contains! 

Gavin has four sections of the house including-

Living Room

Loft 

Courtyard

Basement

This post also includes MC’s commentary and quotes from special happenings associated with Gavin. Special furnishes will have the coziness points indicated next to its name.

Please enjoy! 

Living Room

Soft Stool 

The white soft stool next to the tea table.

This stool is a must when Gavin watches soccer games.

The leather surface is very soft, and its height is just right for watching TV on.

Want to know the trend of the soccer lottery recently? How about asking about it? 

It seemed to have won all the recent games, and is both happy and lonely.

If his favourite team loses, Gavin will sit here alone. (#sad) 

White Sofa 

With so many pillows, you don’t have to worry about having no support behind you.

Is the white sofa difficult to clean? 

The bolsters are very comfortable.

Curled up on the sofa with soft ginkgo aroma.

“Gavin, do you remember what you told me?”

“I just want to be with you, just like this...”

“You still remembered!” 

“I won’t forget what I’ve told you.” 

“Then... Do you have anything you want to tell me this time?” 

Gavin kissed MC’s forehead gently.

- This special happening (Starry Sky) refers to the Furniture City Date!

White Table 

“Gavin’s Pad is placed here too.”

(It has a photo of MC and she says she will change it into the both of them next time.)

“I can add a snack box, but Gavin doesn’t really eat snacks.”

Hallway Cabinet

“Gavin waters the plants regularly.”

“These are often loose change on the cabinet which we can take before going out.”

“The silver ornament is a souvenir I bought when we went to Disneyland.”

The “Wavy Thing”

“I noticed a little “go for it” written on the most recently scrawled page of the notebook.” 

“I found a magazine that puts people to sleep in a second, which was necessary for insomniacs.”

Zoombot 

The black Zoombot.

Today I’m again busy all over the place saving Zoombot.

It’s a bit stupid and often gets stuck after hitting the furniture.

Makes a buzzing sound when working.

You threaten it: If you hang again, I’ll replace you!  

Music Stand

The music stand bought by Gavin.

On it are sheets of music scores printed by Gavin.

It will sometimes think that the small black table next to it is a bit short.

Sometimes Gavin uses in in the hanging chair to record melodies.

Gavin will print the music scores and put them on it to practice.

Flowers on the Wall 

Each flower is carefully selected by Gavin.

The front wall stores a variety of flowers.

The flowers on the entire flower wall are all preserved fresh flowers. 

Black Table and Seat 

Looking at it closely, it is the song that Gavin played last time. (Music score sheet on table.) 

It is also very comfortable with the little black seat cushion next to it.

The soft black cushion stuffed with cotton.

My exclusive seat for Gavin’s recital.

I bought it with Gavin when we were shopping at the furniture market.

Hanging Chair/Rose Hanging Chair (Coziness 88)

A great napping spot.

Here in the Leisure Time special happening, MC and Gavin talk about the swing they had in high school. MC is surprised that Gavin knew about the view of the sunset when being on it. He says he “passed by” sometimes. MC notes how the ginkgo leaves danced in the wind. He says, “they were gifts from another person”.

Heart-Shaped Chair (Coziness 28)

A cute small stool and a convenient storage box.

Gavin’s expression was a bit subtle while he sat on it first.

Alternating blue and pink hearts, as it’s a Valentine’s Day limited edition.

Surfboard Cabinet (Coziness 42)

It’s a new surfboard. Bring it next time we travel.

There are also other surfboards. Guess where they are? 

It says fly on the surfboard, like I can leap through waves with it.

(THEIR CUTE SHOES ARE NEXT TO IT AHHH)

Blue Lamp

A lamp that always blows bubbles from the bottom to top.

It’s beautiful and dreamlike when switched on at night.

Black Table on the Left 

“This looks like the score that Gavin played on the beach last time. I suddenly feel a bit nostalgic.”  - This refers to the Slightly Drunken Date!

“I found a picture of an asleep Gavin. He was sleeping soundly.”

Claw Machine and Carpet 

A dream-like claw machine. Gavin will add new dolls in it.

The inserted game coins can be taken out from the back of the machine and then reused.

A small black carpet in front of the claw machine.

I bought it together with the large carpet.

Red Bunny, White Bunny, Pink Bunny, Red Bunny, Grey Bunny.

Motorcycles 

The blue motorcycle sometimes want to compete with the opposite motorcycle.

The colour of the motorcycle displayed is sky blue. 

Maybe its name will be “Azure”? (because Gavin uses colours to individually name items.) 

Spring Landscape Display 

The landscape has been embedded into the window, like beautiful paintings.

Maybe there is a new world inside.

I can't help stopping to enjoy the view each time I pass.

Is designed for a wider view, improving your mood even when you're tired.

Winter Landscape Display (Coziness 61)

A corresponding landscape should be changed into winter.

Such heavy snow! Frozen river! Unfortunately, they are all fake. 

You can enjoy the red maple leaves and snow even at home, isn’t it wonderful?

Loft 

Painting

This is a word map that covers the entire wall.

Looking at it, Gavin and I have already been to so many places.

If you want to travel, you can find the destination on it in advance.

I'm willing to create memories with him in many more places.

Chandelier

The current iron style design is really cool.

Shines warm yellow when turned on, warming our hearts.

Display Cabinet  

It should have been a wine cabinet, but Gavin doesn’t drink, so it became a display cabinet.

The ‘little things’ between me and Gavin are displayed inside.

It looks empty now, but it will slowly be filled up in the future.

Black Tea Table

A black low table in front of the sofa.

I occasionally work here.

The star and moon deco piece is very beautiful, I picked it with Gavin.

You can put fruits and snacks on it while reading.

The wood texture had a matted quality with the black coat of paint.

Art 

Looks cold but is artistic.

Seems useless, but also seems cool.

Greenery

A corner with blooming flowers all seasons, is warm and restful to the eye.

Outside the window is a huge ginkgo tree, and the fallen leaves are like brocade.

I feel like it’s always spring with all these flowers around.

It compliments the scenery outside the window. (They have a ginkgo tree right outside their home!) 

Cabinet 

Photo framed have karmas from the Starry Date and the Romantic Date!

Decorative Cabinet/Snowman Closet (Coziness 49)

The two little snowmen stared at each other throughout the winter. (Cute little reference to the CN Recovery ASMR.)

It looks like a window at first glance, but it’s actually a cabinet if you look carefully.

And you could open it. Didn’t see that coming right? 

Starry Sky Wall (Coziness 52)

Today’s wish… I hope that Gavin…

I will accompany you to see the meteor rain which falls on this Earth.

Every moment a wish is realised, there will be a meteor streaking across the sky.

Dandelion Lamp (Coziness 43)

The lamp looks exactly like the grapefruit during Mid-Autumn Festival.

Like a burning sparkler, shining brightly.

Six light sources, not too dazzling nor too dark.

Festive Decoration Table (Coziness 57)

Although there are two cups of drinks, we can still drink from the same cup.

The sofa in the corner always makes people feel safe. 

Although we are only two people, I still chose two long couches.

The letter under the ginkgo biloba leaf, writes a love poem.

All the shopping bags represent his most flawless love.

The wide view allows you to see the scenery in the yard.

The soft white mat was added afterwards.

But it’s always hot under the sunlight, so the curtain is often pulled down.

Basement

Security Camera 

You are in a monitored area, please mind your actions.

Bulletproof Glass 

It’s not a normal screen, it’s bulletproof.

It's not often that one gets to see such a cool and HARD-CORE transparent screen.

Anyways, curious what’s in this wall.

Sci-fi glass wall in the movies.

The engraved badge is Gavin’s silent pride.

1-2-3... still shorter than it!

Gingko Tree

Seasons slip by soundlessly.

No matter how small their wishes are, they will become seeds and eventually bloom in gold.

All life’s little joys turned into gold.

It guards the serene life here quietly over in the corner.

(Gavin makes ginkgo bookmarks with them for MC. CRIES.)

Corner Resting Area 

These action figures are actually pretty fun!

The puzzle is all grown up. It should be able to piece itself back together. (LOL)

(Puzzle) Maybe finish it while Gavin’s gone? 

(Table) It sometimes thinks the table is a bit short.

(Chair) It looks hard but it’s actually comfortable to sit on.

Very spacious, but looks a bit empty.

Some decorations should be displayed here.

Sitting on a blanket is also very comfortable. You can also lean on the small pillow. 

(Carpet) This is a carpet. You can’t tell, right? 

The advanced smart carpet that is warm in winter and cool in summer is awesome.

(The book on the table is called ‘Kritik Der Urteilskraft’- The Critique of Judgement by famous German philosopher Immanuel Kant. It follows after the Critique of Pure Reason and the Critique of Practical Reason- the First and Second Critiques, respectively. The Critique of Judgment constitutes a discussion of the place of Judgment itself, which must overlap both the “understanding” and “reason”.)

“You need to take better care of your health.”

“Who was the one working overnight over the proposal the other day?”

“Alright, we’re birds of a feather, so... so both of us should look after ourselves for each other!” 

“Rest assured, I will. After all, it’s different now. I have you by my side.”  -Harmonous Compa Special Happening

Gavin’s Workspace

Accompany Gavin though every sleepless night.

This seems… No, I’m seeing things.

All folders are neatly organised and arranged.

A spacious table, with files and reports spread all over when busy.

I no need to worry about waking up from naps due to cold late at night.

I was reminded of some criminal investigation shows I have watched. Come on, Officer Gavin!

If this complicated case is made into a movie, it will be an exhilarating one. 

(Computer) A customised large-screen UHD model customised for work purpose.

(Computer) Work exclusive computer, only connected to intranet.

(Computer) The three auxiliary monitors can help keep the data safe.

(Chair) If you want to protect your waist, you should first have a comfortable cushion.

(Chair) if you work long hours, be sure to work in a comfortable chair.

(Board Area) What does it say? Ermm… Cats have nine lives? 

“Found a girl crookedly drawn next to a work record when he reached a bottleneck.” 

Airplane

This airplane model was assembled by Gavin himself.

The computer says-  Agent B-7

Team Operator S.T.R.I.K.E

Location Tracker 

S.P.Y Camera 

U4V Commando

Gunship Operation 

Motorcycle Repair Area 

Every vehicle is so cool in its own way! 

Hello, you are... Little… Erm… Let me think… 

With the strength to lift mountains and the spirit to take on the world! Ha! 

The robot arm is actually a simple robot.

For your safety, please don’t linger below it

(Motorcycle) I would like to greet my seniors.

Electronic Control Pad

Responsible for controlling the rising, descending and switches of the entire area.

On Spring Festival, it will say: Happy New Year, Sir!”

Sooner or later, fully automated smart management will be achieved.

Radio Office 

It’s an important communication device, and the only disadvantage is that it’s a bit heavy.

It’s actually a satellite phone, and it can receive signals everywhere.

Looks like the palm phone in the 90s. Oh no, I’ve exposed myself.

It looks like an electrocardiogram.

Don’t know how to use this weird device.

A thick laptop that it’s properly shut when not in use.

A cool eagle logo is printed on it.

Gavin used it only for special tasks and it will not be brought out.

LMAO MC DOESN’T HAVE ACCESS-

Courtyard 

Corner Seating Area 

A courtyard in sunny or snowy days are interested in their own ways.

Sometimes the unfrequented bolsters will envy the knee pillow.

It's’ wonderful when two people are sitting here reading, even if they don’t talk.

Standing barefoot on the soft lawn is very comfortable.

There's nothing nicer than basking ourselves when its sunny.

Binoculars

The white binoculars which you can see things several miles away.

You can use it to watch the stars when it’s not too cloudy.

But star-watching is clearer mid-air.

Seems to be the same binoculars as those in the scenic area.

The binoculars in the scenic area require coins, but this one doesn't.

Outdoor Lounge Chairs 

The new furniture I asked Gavin to buy.

Can enjoy the sunlight spa comfortably when relaxing. 

Closing my eyes, I feel like I’m lying on a beach.

The soft breeze and warm sunshine. This is life. 

Lying on it and looking at the blue sky and white clouds, your mind goes blank easily.

The blue and white clouds-

Leisure Table/Romantic Table (Coziness 52)

Lace tablecloth… I can’t imagine that it was chosen by Gavin.

The elaborately prepared dinner and roses, just for today.

A large sunshade on the balcony. (Black large umbrella.)

Bird Nest (Coziness 37) 

Once it was a pair of binoculars, now it’s a bird’s nest.

I bought it just because it was cute, but I’ll consider having pets in the future.

Birds flying by can also have a free meal here.

[fanficshiddles]

Obsession, Chapter 16

It was the dreaded day.

Tom was excited, in-fact he was ecstatic to be going home. While Robyn was even more scared than she had been at the beginning when he had first kidnapped her.

She really DID NOT want to go. She knew that would be it, as soon as he got her there it would be over. There would be no chance of escaping. Which was a terrifying thought.

But she had ran out of time.

‘Now, you have two choices. You can either come with me calmly, quietly, and sit in the front with me. Or you can misbehave and get bundled into the boot again. It’s your choice.’ Tom offered when it was late evening and dark.

Robyn looked down, she was shaking at the mere thought of it all.

‘I’ll go quietly.’ She whispered.

Tom reached out and gripped her chin, lifting her head up so she was to meet his gaze. ‘Good choice. But know this, if you scream or cause a scene of any kind, you will be straight in the boot. Tied and gagged. Is that understood?’

Robyn swallowed hard and nodded. As much as she wanted to try and make some sort of scene to get help when outside, she knew it would take a while for someone to come and help. As it was so late, everyone would be in bed. And then she would be in worse trouble with him, something she didn’t want.

He tied rope around her ankles, so she could only take small steps. To avoid her running away again. He wasn’t taking any chances of that happening.

With a hand firmly wrapped around her upper arm, after he’d packed all of his things and her small bag into the car, he led her out of the house for the last time and over to his jag. She looked longingly across the road at her home, knowing she would never see it again. It made her heart ache so badly.

‘Come on, kitten.’ He guided her round and opened the passenger door for her. She reluctantly got in and Tom leaned across her to put her seatbelt on, deliberately taking his time. Then he shut the door and headed round to the driver’s side.

‘Are you excited to see your new home, darling?’ He asked calmly when he started up the engine.

‘No.’ She said stubbornly, but sadly as she looked out the window to her house again.

Tom slid his hand into her hair and took a fistful, forcing her head round to look at him. She hissed in pain as he hurt her scalp.

‘No is not a word I ever want to hear from you, kitten.’ He snarled, narrowing his eyes at her. ‘Do I make myself clear?’

She nodded, trembling. Tom released her hair and she shrunk as far away from him as she possibly could. While he drove, she looked out of the window the entire time. Ignoring his small talk completely.

He was taking her to the other side of the city, into the suburbs. She was so shocked when they ended up in the rich area, and turned down a fancy street. The houses were all huge and had massive fences between them for privacy, which figures, she thought.

Even though she knew he had sound proofed his home, she thought he wouldn’t have needed to anyway. The gardens were huge and there was so much space between all the houses as it was.

‘Ah, home at last.’ Tom hummed as he pulled up at one of the houses near the bottom of the road. He typed the code into a key pad and the large wooden gates swung open for him to drive in.

It was a lovely house, quite modern and had a lot of large windows. Seemed like it would be very bright and airy. Tom got out his car after pulling into the garage. The garage door was just closing as he got Robyn out, she looked at the door as it closed shut. Finalising her entrapment.

Tom untied her ankles so she could walk easier. Knowing if she even got out of the house, the fence was too high for her to climb over anyway.

‘Welcome home, kitten.’ He put his arm around her waist and led her inside.

Her eyes widened in awe when she stepped in.

It was a huge open plan living room and kitchen, it was really modern just like she had expected from the outside. There was a wall-to-wall window in the kitchen, looking out onto the large garden. The kitchen counter tops were a beautiful black marble with some colourful sparkles through it. It had all the mod cons, of course. Including a mini bar area.

The living room had a large fire on one wall, with a large flat screen TV above. There was a large half circle sofa in a dip in the middle of the room, with a big table in the middle. There was a pool table and dinner table at the side of the room, on front of a large window.

But what caught her attention was the huge aquarium that spanned a large area of the wall in the living room section. She was sure she could see another room at the other side of it, but she wasn’t sure because she was distracted by all the beautiful fish swimming around.

‘Come on, let me show you the best bit.’ He grinned and took hold of her hand, he dragged her over to a door that was just between the kitchen and living room, next to the fish tank. What she noticed first was the large bolt at the top of the door, out of her reach but easy for Tom to get to.

There was also a keypad at the side. Tom typed in a code, hidden from her view. There was a click and a green light flashed. He opened the door and motioned for her to go in.

She stepped into the room and was rather amazed once again. It was a large bedroom with a huge Queen-sized bed. She ignored the bars along the top and bottom, guessing rather easily what they would be for.

There was a large flat screen TV on the unit opposite the bed, a large wardrobe with large mirrors on the doors next to it. There was also a dressing table, with a hair dryer, straighteners and curlers on hooks at the side of it.

The aquarium had been aptly put where it was so Tom could keep an eye on her, no matter where she was in the house from wherever he was.

Tom opened another door that was on the same side as the TV, it was an en-suite bathroom. Tom hadn’t been lying when he said he got a large shower and bath installed. But she noticed on the small shelf above the sink, just under the mirror, there was two tooth brushes in a small cup with toothpaste.

He really had thought of everything for her. As she also noticed her favourite brand of shampoo, conditioner and body wash in the shower holder.

‘You have complete access to the bedroom and bathroom, of course. And when I’m here, I will unlock the door so you can go to the living room and kitchen too. The doors to the garden are always locked, you will get outside for fresh air daily, with me.’ Tom explained as he walked with her back into the bedroom.

She rubbed her arm nervously. It was certainly better than the previous place, much larger and she would have a lot more freedom instead of being tied to the bed and gagged most of the time. But that wasn’t the point.

She wanted her complete freedom back. Her life.

But if she thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did.

He took hold of her arm and led her back out into the main part of the house. There was another door leading off the living room, with a keypad for that room too.

This room didn’t have her in awe though, it made her feel physically sick.

It was like a torture room.

Or in Tom’s eyes, a BDSM room.

There was a fucking machine, a Sybian, wooden stocks, a chair with a hole in it, multiple table-like surfaces. There was various ropes of different size and texture hanging up next to some floggers and various sex toys.

She had only looked around the room once before she backed out of it straight away. Tom chuckled at her reaction of horror.

‘We are not going to play right now, kitten. You need time to settle in first.’ He grinned and shut the door, locking it with the code she was yet to see. But she knew she had to get that code.

‘Go to our room and get settled in.’ He said as he slid his hand down her back and gently patted her bum. He saw her through to her room and locked the door behind her.

He headed out to the garage and opened up the loft hatch next to his car, steps unfolded down for him automatically, he headed up and grinned when he saw the room was set up perfectly.

It was a large office he’d had built above the garage. His desk was set up with a computer and a few screens, showing various parts of the house through the security cams that was on in every single room, covering all areas. He sat down and watched his girl as she looked around the bedroom properly, the bathroom too.

‘That’s it, pet. Get accustomed to your new surroundings.’ He purred, rubbing his lower lip as he watched her closely.

‘You are going nowhere now.’

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “Not Yet Ready.”

Hope you guys enjoy the story for today!

Dr Umbra set down the holo pad on the table with a grunt and turned to look at the human sitting across from her at the table. She hadn’t worked with many humans, so the way its eyes hovered over her was enough to make her squirm in her seat nervously. If she could have hazarded a guess, she would have said it looked hungry, ready to crawl across the table and take a bite from her, but she shook off the thought and set the holo-pad down on the table.

Outside, the glassy planet swirled and undulated below them, the ground most obscured by thick wafting vapors of red, blue and green. On occasion large swaths of the ground would be uncovered giving them a distant view of barren landscape dotted with black spires, before being plunged back into the mist again.

This human wasn’t likely to do that.

“And this is your account of what happened, nothing left out.”

“The human memory isn’t exactly reliable, but that is what I remember.” The human said sitting back in his chair. In comparison to her, he was a very large creature, maybe two feet taller than she was with creamy skin and light tawny hair. His eye though, was an unsettling shade of bright green that felt unnatural in this lightning. All around them the other scientists murmured in surprise and consternation, not really sure what to make of the human’s account.

One of the other Tesraki scientists stood, “It might have been telepathic, like the starborn, and used some sort of mental manipulation to make you feel the way you feel. I would not be entirely surprised, though how something could have survived for so long without access to nutrients or other Stimuli, I do not know.”

Their only Vrul scientist, aside from Dr. Krill stood, “There is only one way to sort this out. We analyze his memory directly.” He said pointing to the machine o nthe other side of the room, calmly sitting on a side table and waiting to be utilized.

Dr Umbra turned to look at the human, “Are you willing?”

“Whatever you need.” He glanced at the machine, “However, I must warn you, I don’t think…. What I remember is something that machine will be capable of capturing.”

The Vrul waved a hand, blowing him off slightly as he stood and walked over to the other side of the room.

The group of scientists bunched together, gathering around as Admiral Vir took his seat in the chair, and allowed the Vrul to fix the nodes of the machine to his head. Dr. Krill stood close by both sets of arms crossed over his chest.

Dr. Umbra glanced at him repeatedly unnerved by the strange way in which he stood, arms crossed, leaning on two set of feet more than the others, his head cocked unnaturally to the side for a Vrul. Even the way he moved was unsettling, but she supposed that is what tended to happen to you when you spent too much time with humans. He may have written the book on the humanization phenomenon, but that clearly didn’t make him immune to it.

The projector was set up to face an empty wall, and the science crew gathered around.

The human leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

The picture that was brought up before them was obscured in red. The memory boosting capabilities of the machine projected the image in sharp relief against the wall, in almost cinematic quality. Seeing through a human’s eyes was rather disorienting, such a narrow field of view but with such sharp edges. The fog swirled around him as he explored through the strange monolithic city, until, at some point, he did fall through the wall and into the dark room shining with little red bulbs.

The memories had been sharp up until this point, but as soon as he came into the room where the strange contraption was described… suddenly the memory went hazy. When his eyes were focused on the thing before him, the memory was blurry and confused, constantly moving pieces of the object as if it couldn’t decide where to put them. It was like trying to watch a very old computer render an object that was to complex, until the brain gave them a watered down version of the object that was nothing more than a ball of twisting shapes without any texture or refinement.

All around them the crowd muttered in nervous surprise.

Sitting before them, the human breathed deeply.

On the screen, he reached out a hand…. And his fingers made contact with the strange alien contraption.

The screen before them went blank, and they staired at it for a long moment. 

Dr. Krill rose from his seat, just as the human spasmed. His back arched and his head was thrown back violently. His eyes were open now but were focused on nothing. His hands were clenched into claws, before them the screen erupted into light and dark. At first blinding white light and then a sudden collapse before thousands of stars whirling past in spiral arrays. The image flickered and faded and twisted and blinked.

The human seized again violently tipping himself over and onto the floor.

“STOP the machine!” Someone called 

Smoke erupted from the power source of the contraption as all the circuits started to smoke. The image in front of them had degraded into nothing more than pixels of light and dark swirling around in a confusing mass of chaos.

Then the lights on the entire ship began to shutter and blink.

A lightbulb burst nearby.

Everyone yelled, startled and dove under the nearest table. 

The human was on the ground still locked in a horrible rictus, back arched hands balled into claws feet on the floor knees somewhat bent, pink foam dusted the corners of his mouth.

Dr. Krill raced forward and ripped the nodes from his head in one foul swoop.

They came off with a loud popping noise leaving behind tiny circles of red on the human’s skin, but as soon as it was gone the smoking died away and the human slumped back to the ground.

Then the room went dark.

They could hear it, surprised and startled cries from around the ship as the entire electrical circuit went out. Someone turned on a pocket light, giving Dr. Krill just enough room to examine the human, who now lay unresponsive on the floor in front of them.

The lights blinked back on a few minutes later as the secondary generator pulled power from the fusion core. The lights were slightly dimmer to alert the staff that something had gone wrong with the main power grid.

So it was in that eerie yellow light they watched as the human slowly came back to himself. He looked groggy and confused his single eye distant as he sat up to look at them, and when he did the entire room stepped back in fear. No one could have said exactly why, but when the human opened his mouth it was not his voice that emanated from inside.

You Are Not Ready

The entire room staggered to their knees as the booming voice shook the very ship rattling the glass in the observation deck, and causing spidering cracks to appear on the surfaces of some of the holopads.

Every last human aboard that ship was brought to their knees, hands over their ears,and every last alien went completely prone passed out on the spot.

No one knew how long they laid there, but when the awoke, most of the humans were still crouched on the floor, their hands over their heads. They stood slowly, looking around the room.

Admiral Vir was lying on his back unresponsive, and no amount of prodding or nudging could get him to wake up.

The lights overhead were constantly in a state of flickering.

“What in the hell was that.”  Someone muttered

Off down a long dark corridor, someone would find Conn in a similar state of unresponsiveness as he floated, unmoving in the hallway.

***

Admiral Vir received an MRI, CT and  and EEG from the groggy and somewhat confused medical department before he finally started to come too. He groaned and rolled to his side as a couple of the doctors stepped in to steady him.

He lookd up and around in confusion at the people staring down at him in concern.

“Is everything alright….. What happened.”

“I….. we aren’t entirely sure, how dod ou feel?”

He reached up a hand to rub at his head, “I…. I’,m not sure…. I…. I can’t remember.”

They waited.

“The last thing I remember was the science team arriving and then…. nothing .”

It was hard to describe what he felt, it was like his entire mind and body were soar. It was similar to the feeling he might have gotten after a particularly difficult test during the academy, but magnified tenfold. It was so bad that he could barely string two words together the mental exhaustion was that profound. And that wasn’t counting the physical soreness, in his throat,and his chest, and his lungs and his entire abdominal cavity and all the muscles therein.

He felt as if….. As if…..

well ….

As if someone had worn him like a glove.

That was hardly something he bet that the others would understand, so he didn’t mention it, and lay back on the bed eyes closed. No one distrubed him when he slept for a continuous seventy two hours afterwards. In the end Dr. krill couldn’t decide if he had been in a coma or not.

As for the electrical components of the ship, many of the major circuits had been fried and required replacing, and the entire power box  on the first interface ahd to be replaced. Everyone else aboard the ship, no matter their shift or their history of sleep disorders, slept for just over ten hours solidly and without waking up.

The nonhumans were also affected. Those of them that were capable of sleeping slept almost as long as the humans did, and those that were not, like the Vrul saw a significant drop in their energy and IQ quotients for the remaining ten hours as if their cortical zones were trying to reboot themselves.

Below them, that red planet continued to swirl and undulate, seeming peaceful though somehow dangerou.

Like a predator lying in wait.

The group of them tried to decide if they should even continue their scientific venture. Clearly something was going on that none of them quite understood. Perhaps it was something they were better off leaving alone, but whatever it was….. One thing was for certain.

Something strange was going on.

When one of the scientists tried to pull out a recording of what had happened, the electronics inside his camera was completely fried.

There was no physical evidence that what happened to them had happened, aside from a collective memory muddled and confused that took up about an hour of time for all of them. Once everything was back to normal it was almost impossible to believe that anything happened at all.

The Admiral awoke after his seventy two hours bright and cheerful as if nothing had happened still not remembering anything that had taken place, and below them, the planet continued to swirl with its strange and unusual mist.

***

Admiral Vir supervised the loading of the shuttles, watching as a near ton of scientific equipment was moved into the back of the shuttle. His hands were resting on his hips, though he could hardly feel anything through the gloves of his space suit: white this time and emblazoned with the GA scientific symbol.

One of the other science officers passed by carrying a crate, and paused long enough to set it down on the metal floor rolling his shoulders inside the space suit, “So we are still going along with this?”

“I hardly see that we have any other choice.”

“Whatever that was, it ook our our entire ship with just a memory. This is one of those times I think it might be best not to poke the bear.”

Admiral Vir nodded, “I am inclined to agree with you to some degree, however,” he motioned to the assorted aliens as they supervised the loading of the shuttle, “They plan to go with or without us, and I would rather not leave them unprotected.”

“No chance we can talk them out of it?”

Adam shook his head, “I don’t think that is going to be possible.” He turned to look at the other man, and seeing the dour expression on his face, he smiled and perked up patting the man on the back, “Besides, nothing is going to happen to us,  you want to know why?”

“Why sir.”

“Because we are just too pretty to die.”

“You’re quoting a movie I haven't seen, aren't you?”

“You know me too well.” He turned back to the door crossing his arms over his chest as Dr. krill came to join them.

“I am with our friend here. I think what you are doing is very very stupid.”

Adam raised his hands in mild offense, “You know what to be quite fair, THIS time it isn’t me. I tried to talk them out of it, but they say then need to go down and study it. I take no responsibility for the stupid decisions being made right now, none at all.”

“You could order them to stop.”

“No I can’t I am in charge of the GA’s Military fleet, not their scientists.”

Krill grunted, “You know, despite this being there Idea, I somehow get the impression that you are the one who is going to suffer for it.”

He scratched his head, “Things do seem to happen like that don’t they.”

“Don’t touch anything weird.”

“Well I think I  have proven incapable of keeping that kind of promise. However, I promise I will TRY not to touch anything that I shouldn’t.”

Krill sighed, “I guess that is the most that we can hope for.”

“I am bringing some marines along with us and hopefully that will be enough to keep everyone safe. I am having them briefed quickly on the methods of data collection that the scientists are going to be using, mostly so they don’t get in the way.” hge held up a hand as Krill opened his mouth, “And YES I have been briefed as well, and do not plan on getting in the way of the smart people while they do their work.”

The scientist glanced at hm as he spoke, “Don’t you have a degree in like…. Orbital physics or something.”

Adam rested a hand on the other man’s shoulder, “I actually have what might be the equivalent of a Ph.D in flight mechanics, and that does include orbital physics. However, I will be the first to admit that those facts aren't because I am naturally intelligent, I just worked really hard in the academy, and somehow it paid off. So next time you want someone who can calculate the flight trajectory of a rocket by hand, I am your guy, but when it comes to studying weird rocks…. I have no idea what I am doing.”

He glanced back at his assembled marines, circling the group of aliens as their protection detail, and not for the first time in so many months he wished that Sunny was here.

He would feel a lot better if he knew she was watching his back. 

[tloujm]

Part X: Sweetbitter

Author’s Notes: So...Yup...this is me coming back to the series after that whole Google Docs ordeal. I feel like a 19th century novelist who just finished typing the first copy of their book on a type writer and was about to hand it in to their publisher, but then their house catches on fire and burns down and the only copy of said book  was lost in said fire. Was that too dramatic? Melodrama is the only entertainment I get these days. With that being said, though, I’m happy to be back. I had the drive to write, but trying to rewrite what I lost just bummed me out. I remembered bits and pieces of what I originally wrote. This is where I wanted part 10 to be, but it’s still not the same. I don’t like this rewrite as much as I liked the original, but this is the closest I’m going to get to it. It was a difficult chapter for me to write both before and especially after the loss. I went back and forth on whether I wanted to include Sarah and I eventually settled on the fact that Joel wouldn’t be the brooding man that we grew to love if Sarah didn’t exist. Trying to capture a parent’s grief was hard and I also wasn’t in the mood to write smut, but that’s what I wanted for this chapter so *shrugs shoulders*. It’s not perfect but I hope y’all like it. I usually don’t include word count, but this one is particularly long and it is at just over 4k words. I know it’s been a minute since the last installment, so time line wise, this takes place right after the last chapter (snow ball fight). 

Genre: The whole platter aka Smut AND Angst AND Fluff

Summary: You and Joel fulfill your fantasy and make love on the kitchen island. There’s post sex cuddles, mentions of Joel’s past before the outbreak and his view point on the pregnancy scare. 

Ship: Joel x Reader

Joel walked in the direction of his place, hoping that you would follow. Your gloved hand stayed glued to his as he led the way across the snow covered settlement. As soon as the two of you made it inside, Joel took your coat and proceeded to light a fire in the living room. In the corner of his eye, he noticed you enter the kitchen. Impatient for your return, he followed only to find you sitting on the island, casually swinging your legs. Your eyes were lustful and glued to his.

Joel leaned against the threshold. “So this is why you never joined me by the fire.” He said with a coy smile.

“I was thinking that now was a perfect time to try again.” You returned the look.

“You got me right where you want me, darlin’.”

You shook your head. “No, I don’t.” You proceeded to spread your legs wider, beckoning for him to stand between them. It didn’t take him long to catch the hint. He pushed himself off the wall and sashayed over to you until his middle touched yours. Your legs immediately wrapped themselves around his waist, pulling him even closer. “Now, I do.”

Joel put his hands down on the counter, one on either side of you. He leaned down to take your lips into his but you gently pulled back to tease him. Now, it was his turn to look at you lustfully. You leaned back on the island counter until you were supported by your elbows. He slid his hands up the surface, causing him to hover over your body. He never broke eye contact as he stretched his jaw muscles. He proceeded to lower himself until his lips could once again reach yours. They engulfed your bottom lip and you could feel the soft yet coarse hair of his beard against your face. The innocent pecks quickly turned into deeper, open mouthed kisses. Your tongue slipped between his lips first. For a moment, it danced with his before you slipped it back out to suck on his bottom lip.

You felt his hands slide under your shirt. The sensation of skin to skin contact always excited you. For a moment, his fingers lingered to caress your waist, but then he slid them back out to lift the shirt off completely. His hands returned to your now bare rib cage to gently coax you back up into a sitting position. As soon as your arms were off the counter, you wrapped them around his neck. In one slick move, his index finger and thumb unclasped your bra. You felt the straps fall down your shoulders. The only thing keeping the bra in place was the fact that the two of you were sandwiched together. His hands left your waist to slide the straps down the rest of your arms and moved away to allow just enough space for your breasts to escape the fabric. He let it slip out his hand and fall onto the kitchen floor. Before he could move to close the space between you, you reached up to unbutton his shirt. You damn near ripped off the last one, you were moving so fast. He wouldn’t have minded. You smirked at the thought. After he shrugged it off, you reached up to kiss him again. Your hands caressed his cheeks and your breasts were pressed against his chest. Joel loved this particular skin to skin sensation. He could feel you intentionally rubbing your nipples against his chest hair. The friction aroused you both. 

“I know what you’re doing.” Joel said in a deep whisper near your ear.

“Then touch me.” You replied.

Joel was about to take them into his palms, but stopped himself. A sly smirk graced his lips before he licked them. He took one quick glance at you before moving back and propping his hands on the edge of the counter to be eye level with your chest. You crawled back on your hands to better expose yourself. He kneaded your left breast for a moment before sticking your nipple in his mouth. Both grew erect at the tingle his tongue caused when he flicked it. Gently, he grazed it with his teeth before sucking. He massaged your other breast in his hand before sandwiching your nipple between his fingers. He watched the nub slide up and down. 

The taste and texture made him salvate. He was hungry for you and wanted more. He undid your pants and tapped your thigh so you would lift up. With your ass hovering over the counter top, he pulled your panties and jeans off all in one go like a magician doing the tablecloth trick. You leaned back onto your elbows, expecting him to attack your breasts again, but he gently dragged your ass to the edge of the island and lifted your legs over his shoulders. He again positioned his eye level to meet you, but this time it was your entrance he was gazing at. Joel could see that it was wet like his mouth and he was ready, willing and able.

“Wait!” You spoke up.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just...um...I didn’t know you were gonna go there.”

“You’re not ready?” Joel questioned. He genuinely desired your answer. He was nothing but patient with you whenever you wanted to take things slow here and there. He had never gone down on you, not for the lack of trying. After the two of you became a couple, he felt comfortable with pushing the boundaries and tried to do it, but you told him no. He was respectful of your decision even though it hurted you to refuse him. You were just self conscious of so many things: the color, the smell, the asymmetry, the hair and the list went on. Honestly, you were mortified that he had already looked straight at your lower lips. Your nervousness was starting to kill your arousal. The last thing you wanted to do was bring up your insecurities to kill it even further. 

“I’m just afraid.”

“Of what?” He asked playfully to lighten the mood.

“What if I suffocate you and you die?” You responded bluntly, to which he bursted out in laughter. The notion did sound ridiculous out loud, but it stemmed from a genuine place of worry. “I’m ticklish! Especially down there!” You began to explain, looking up at him with his face still between your legs. “I’m like a venus fly trap. If I so much as feel the ends of your beard against my inner thigh, I will squeeze them together. I won’t be able to help it! And then what if you can’t breathe because---”

“Because my head would be stuck between your...what did you call it that one time? your ‘nani’ and your legs? I imagine I’d die a happy man, so don’t worry about me, darlin’.” He flashed you a devilish grin but it soon faltered when he saw the worry still on your face. “I won’t let you kill me yet. There’s a lot I’m meanin’ to do with you before that happens. I’ll hold you down if need be. I bet you’ll like that, won’t you.” The last part he mumbled as he repositioned himself, but you still heard him. You let out a light chuckle and relaxed your body as much as you could. 

Joel lifted your middle up toward his mouth, causing your back to lay flat against the cold, hard surface of the island counter. He kissed your inner thigh and there went your composure. You began to clench them together, but Joel kept a strong grip on them like he promised. He laid his tongue flat against your entrance and he licked slowly from the bottom up until he reached the hood of your clit. One stroke of his tongue and he was already a mess. To taste you in a way he never had before was an intoxicating experience and it left his beard wet. While still gripping your legs in place, he lovingly drew circles on your outer thighs with the pads of his thumbs. His tongue danced around the clit, over and under the hood, like an ice skater performing a figure 8. Your breathing became heavier. The sensation felt good, yet so foreign. Your instinct was to control the overwhelming feelings that he was causing you, but you didn’t know how. Your whole body was fidgeting and quivering on the countertop. It wasn’t like the bed where you could grip the sheets or pillow. Your hands flailed about, trying to find something to hold onto as he began to suck on the bud of nerves itself. Your one hand settled on gripping his salt and pepper hair while the other knocked over a metal container of wooden spoons on the floor. The loud bang of the crash did not break Joel’s focus on you or his pleasure. It was your light tugging on his hair that kept him driven. It was telling him that he was doing it right and that gave him confidence. 

Joel came up for air, his beard soaked. “You’re so wet. Should I come up and show you?” He teased, starting to lower your legs. You shook your head profusely and hummed a no. “You want more?” He looked down at your face as you nodded. From that angle, you were a vision to be seen. “Gotta speak up, baby girl.”

“Yes! I want more!”

“What my baby wants, my baby gets.”

With that, Joel repositioned your legs, but before he went back down, he stuck two fingers in his mouth to lubricate them. You watched as he slid them out and he tucked his mouth down between your legs again. He resumed attention on your clit while the two fingers entered your hole. The level of coordination that he was able to pull off was sensational. The hooked pumping of his fingers were in tune with the way he flicked your clit. He single handedly drove you to a place of overwhelming feelings, both physically and emotionally. Like a button opening an elevator door, the pad of his tongue applied pressure to your little, sensitive bud and you released. You came and a warm feeling spread over your body starting in your core and spreading outward. Joel felt the warmth too as you squirted a bit in the process. He did his best to lap it all up. He could feel the warm juices drip off his beard and onto his chest. The continued sensation of his tongue on your slit helped you prolong your high. 

He let you rest for a moment after finally removing your legs from his shoulders. With haze covered eyes, you watched as he wiped his mouth and beard with the back of his hand. Your legs laid limp over the edge of the counter. They were numb and tingly and you didn’t even want to attempt to walk on them for the next half hour. 

“I’m not done with you yet.” Joel said after watching you ride the orgasm. 

“I can’t imagine so.” You said, eyeing his erection.

You began to prop yourself up, but he hummed a no. He spread your legs open as wide as they could go before stepping between them. His eyes locked with yours as he took his member into his own hands and began to glide the precum up and down his shaft. He, then, caressed your thighs with his wet, sticky hands while drawing shapes over your folds with the head. You gave him a small smile. It wasn’t coy, but loving. It melted his heart.

Joel leaned forward, bracing his hands on either side of your chest. Little by little, he slid his way into you. It was a familiar feeling that he embraced. On one hand, he loved the warmth of being inside, but on the other, he loved the friction that you caused when you clenched around him as he slid back out. Like before, he wanted to be the one that teased you; the one that made you unravel. He continued to slide in and out slowly until he bottomed out. He picked up the pace with each pump, gazing at you while he did to make sure he wasn’t hurting you. Joel thrived at the sound of your wet folds mingled with slapping skin. It drove him to go harder, faster. He slightly wiggled his hips with each pump so the head could tickle your core. He felt your walls begin to clench around him tighter and tighter. Taking one hand off the counter, he placed it on your breast and began to massage your nipple. You struggled to control the pace at which your walls contracted and it drove you to flail about again. Blindly, your hand latched onto his arm that was still planted to the countertop. He grunted with each pump as your breathy voice filled the kitchen with expletives. 

“Fuck! Im so---” You tried to speak as you felt your climax approaching.

"Me too!” He replied between grunts.

“I know. That’s why I need you to pull out, love.” Your voice was so sweet when you made the request. He couldn’t deny you at all. He did hesitate, however. He’d almost forgotten about the accidents he made last time and how tonight was all about making up for both of them. Being inside you felt so good, though. “Unless you want to make sure I get pregnant, then you need to pull out now.” 

As the last word left your mouth, you came. You were trying to hold out for him, but the orgasm snuck up on you. The high distracted you from noticing if he came too and where. The sensation of your juices releasing around his dick immediately triggered his own release. He held it in as long as he could until he was completely outside of you, but your clenched walls didn’t make it easy. Joel let out a loud bellow of relief as he exploded all over your stomach. Your head was too heavy to lift and watch, but you felt the warmth of his seed nonetheless. He fell back onto one of the barstools and rested himself for a moment before grabbing a fresh dish towel out the drawer. He dampened it under the kitchen sink and walked back to your still limp body on the island. Gently, he cleaned you up. 

“C’mon, let’s go to bed.” Joel said as he tossed the towel in the sink and picked you up. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he secured your legs in his arms. 

“Joel,” You began in a sultry voice. “That was…” You playfully exuded a variety of sounds out of your mouth to describe how you felt. “I don’t know how else to put it.”

He smirked at the very recent memories. “It was, wasn’t it.” Joel pulled you into his side as the two of you layed in bed. After a few moments of silence, he spoke up, his mind clearly still on the earlier activities. “Daggum, woman!” He shook his head, at a loss for words. “You know how to make a man weak.”

“That’s the goal!” You playfully responded to which he pinched your side. 

The two of you enjoyed each other’s embrace in comfortable silence for hours after the kitchen session. Despite that, he couldn’t lay like that forever without talking to you about the elephant in the room. He took a deep breath, but no words followed. He wasn’t sure how to start. 

Joel never thought about becoming a father again after Sarah. Even before the outbreak, she was more than enough to fill his life. Maybe it felt that way because he was doing it all by himself. It was just him and her against the world. After her mother left, he held his daughter closer than ever and their bond was unbreakable. Her leaving also meant that Joel had to play both parental roles and that meant having no time to date. He was human, however, and the desires were still there. From time to time, he would have one night stands, but they were few and far between. He convinced himself that those types of relationships were all he could have. Between being a single parent and working to pay the bills, Joel didn’t have the time. Secretly, he didn’t want the time. If he could bring himself to admit it, he was afraid of being walked out on again because it would not only affect him, but his daughter too. 

He and his first wife got married the last year of high school. Instead of a prom dress, she shopped for a wedding gown and got it tailored to fit around her bump. Joel thought back to the first time he ever saw her; he was a sophomore. Immediately, he had a crush on her. He remembered his little brother finding out and teasing him about it. He didn’t think she’d say yes when he asked her out, but she did. The rest was a whirlwind. For all of junior year, they dated on and off. As cliché as it was, they had sex at the junior prom and she got pregnant.

He cared for her, but if he really thought about it, he didn’t love her. When he proposed, he figured the love would come later, especially after their family was completed. Waiting was something he could live with so long as the love came at all and it did, but not in the way he expected. When his daughter was born, he found himself in love for the first time, but it was a kind of love that he was not completely prepared to feel. Throughout his wife’s pregnancy, people would tell him their experiences of becoming a parent for the first time and he believed that he would be no different, but he couldn’t imagine just how much his heart would swell until he held her for the first time. 

Life wasn’t easy; Joel had to grow up quick. He liked to think that he tried, but with each passing year, his marriage fell apart. He knew that she wasn’t happy, but there was only so much he could do to keep his family afloat. He suspected that she had cheated, but it was only a passing feeling, so he never confronted her about it. It wasn’t until he came home to the house empty, did he begin to think seriously about the possibility. He called out for her, but all he was met with were empty drawers and a note only stating that she dropped Sarah off at Tommy’s. She was the mother of his child, so he couldn’t stop caring about her as he worried over her whereabouts. He also couldn’t forgive her for what she did, though. It was one thing to leave him because she wasn’t happy with the life he provided her, but it was another to abandon her child altogether. There was no discussion or fight. She was just gone. Joel worked overtime to afford a divorce lawyer. He was told that the papers were issued, but she never returned them signed. At the point of the outbreak, he was technically still married to Sarah’s mom, but he had long stopped wearing his ring. 

Joel came from a broken family growing up. He even sensed that his own would be doomed to repeat the same history when he got married, but he didn’t want to admit it. For the longest, that was the reason why he never wanted to be a father again. With you, however, there was a pang of desire that he hadn’t felt since Sarah was born. He loved being her dad. Once a father, always a father. 

He pulled you in tighter. That pang of desire to have another child was there because of you. There was no one else he wanted to do it with. With you, he didn’t feel doomed to repeat the past. He had never given a thought to becoming a father again after Sarah, but when he did think about it, laying there with you in his arms, he realized there was nothing he wanted more. For the first time, he could have something that he never had as a child or even an adult; a solid family of his own. He just wished that Sarah was there to be a part of it. 

“I’ve been finding myself having conversations with her in my head recently.” Joel finally spoke up. You lifted your head off his chest and looked up at him. After a moment, you realized who he was talking about. You didn’t know everything about Sarah, but what little you did know, Tommy told you. A while back, when the two of you were on your way to the hospital, you tried to bring her up in conversation. Needless to say, it didn’t go well and that was the last time she was ever brought up.

“I would have loved to meet her.” You said to him.

“You two would have gotten along. You have a lot in common with her. I know she would have loved you.”

“Do we? Like what?” You genuinely questioned.

He smiled at the memory of her. “For one, you two both love giraffes.” You thought back to that time when you and Joel ran into a trio of giraffes grazing off the overgrowth on the building the two of you were walking through. You were so excited to see them but so intimidated by their size; you had never seen one up close before. Joel gently petted the animal first, then took your hand and guided onto it’s head so you could do the same. 

You smiled. “What else?”

He pondered for a moment. “You both like sci-fi stuff. I mean she was more into the ones with a romantic plot, but they had werewolves and vampires in them.”

“Are you talking about Dawn of the Wolf? I remember that movie. Was she team vampire or team werewolf?”

He looked down at you and rolled his eyes at the memory of being dragged to see that movie. “Team werewolf.”

“Good girl! If you really analyze the story, those vampires were really just a bunch of bitches. They wouldn’t have stood a chance against the werewolves. That’s why Izzy chose the werewolf in the end.” You passionately explained.

He sighed. “Don’t tell me you were into those movies too.”

“Only the first one. I read all of the books in the series and I wanted to watch the movie to compare them. Too soapy for me though.”

“You’re a nerd, you know that?” He responded.

“Well I did go to comic-con a few times.”

“Comic who?”

“It was a convention where people who appreciated comics and other forms of sci-fi media could come together. It was kind of like halloween but in the middle of summer because people would come dressed as their favorite comic characters. People would share and sell their fan art and they could listen to forums and meet celebrities. It was a big deal to us nerds.”

He chuckled. “I think Sarah would have liked that.” The two of you fell into a comfortable silence until he finally spoke up again. His voice was more sullen. “I forced myself to stop thinking of her because when I did, It’d either make me happy or sad and I couldn’t control which one I’d feel until the memories started. I didn’t want to feel that grief anymore, so I decided not to risk it and not think of her at all. No matter how hard you try, though, I guess you can’t escape your past.” 

“Don’t push her away.” You said tenderly.

“I won’t.” You felt his chest rise as he took in a deep breath before slowly letting it out. You hoped he felt better after talking about it. “I know she would have liked being a big sister. She was always good with sharing and just being around other kids.”

“What if I am pregnant?” You asked him seriously.

“Then we’ll raise the baby together. We’ll love ‘em and protect ‘em as best as we can.” He said simply in an almost whispery tone.

“And what if I’m not?”

He kissed the top of your head. “Whatever happens, it doesn’t change the way I feel about you.” To that, you smiled and kissed his chest. He sighed. “So what happens now, (Y/N)?”

“We wait. We wait and see if I get my period next month, then go from there I guess.” You replied. Joel nodded.

[paenling]

Psychosomatic

On Ao3.

Danny huffed against his forearm, chin pressed to the scratched-up surface of his desk. Lancer continued to ramble in his periphery—and he tried to pay attention, he really did, but the words floated in one ear and out the other, meaningless noise. He thumbed along the corner of his textbook, quietly flicking the pages with his left hand while his right took down sparse notes. 

Sam and Tucker had both placed above him into a slightly more advanced section, so they could help if he asked, but it was still a pain to be without ready-made notes to borrow. It kind of really sucked.

“Turn to section five," said Mr. Lancer. “Page two-hundred sixty-one."

Lowering his pen, Danny moved to do as he was told, but found himself interrupted by a sudden slit of pain across the pad of his thumb. It was small, but a fresh paper cut stung on the most sensitive part of his dominant hand. He sighed. Just his luck, wasn’t it?

Lancer cast a wary eye towards Danny's noisy hiss of discomfort. He pressed his thumb against his lips, sucking briefly on the cut, before shaking his hand out with a sheepish grin. After a moment's examination, the teacher dipped his head and resumed whatever he was writing on the whiteboard. Danny swallowed.

Ectoplasm had a very distinct taste and texture. It was thick and syrupy and congealed easily into something like soft gelatin. Even as a liquid it was freezing to humans, mildly corrosive and sick-sour like rot. For Danny the taste was like sucking on a penny soaked in embalming honey. Dense and filling and refreshing and light. Coppery and bitter but giving way to stagnant sweetness, staticky like pop rocks but also luxuriously smooth and filling citrus-sharp ambrosia—

It made him feel like an odious, vulgar, wicked dead thing to have thoughts like that. But ghosts weren’t monsters and he really wasn’t a ghost. It was fine. He was fine.

Some shadowy echo of that alien bliss passed over his tongue when he swallowed, thrillingly cool as it slid down his throat. Faint, masked by heavy rust, diminished, but fresh. It must have been a mistake, but he knew it. His mouth grew immediately slick with desire, teeth seeming to throb with his pulse.

He glanced surreptitiously around and pressed a palm to his chest. His core hummed, frigid and dormant opposite his sluggish heart, but also weightless and prickling with muzzy excitement. Uneasily, he tamped it back down, shrugging to shake the eagerness from his back. It must have been nothing. Danny slowly, carefully picked up his pencil to resume jotting down notes. He just needed to last through class— 

Ectoplasm, or something like it, dripped sluggishly down over the lead, fragrant and heady. Just a drop coaxed free of the seam, but his wet mouth flooded. Drool slipped past his lips to crawl down from the corner of his mouth, and he hastily tugged at the front of his shirt to wipe his face. His heart leapt up to his throat as he turned his hand over to examine his injury: virescent sludge oozed from the papercut on Danny’s thumb. It was black. He almost choked, but glanced up to find shaggy dark hair hung over his brows. He was human, but this wasn’t his blood. This had to be a mistake.

It didn’t glow like raw ectoplasm, but it wasn’t red either. It was too thick. He had no way to explain the oily dark green-grey stuff leaking from his skin. Danny closed his fist around it with a grimace. The not-blood beaded beneath the pressure of his fingers, but did not escape. He wiped it on the waistband of his jeans instead, where his baggy shirt would hide the stain. Shaking, Danny raised his uninjured hand.

“Yes, Daniel?" The teacher's sharp grey eyes passed him over once, then again, and his sleepy brow furrowed with just the slightest hint of worry.  How many other eyes were on him? Everyone was staring. “You look pale. Are you feeling unwell?"

Danny wanted to answer, but his teeth were too big and his tongue felt thick and clumsy. His syrinx squeaked. This was a mistake. It was wrong. He was still drooling, but he couldn’t swallow. He must have been doing a worse job controlling his breathing than he'd thought, because Mr. Lancer was at his side in an instant. All the hair on his arms stood on end; his neck prickled, lips itching, ears burning. 

When had he started to tremble? It was so loud in the classroom—a score and change of syncopated human heartbeats like drums pounding booming crashing constantly in the air. Pencils scratched and feet tapped and keychains clattered. It was loud like war. His core screamed beneath his ribs, drowning out his sluggish heart. Was he even breathing at all? 

Mr. Lancer moved to help him up. “Do you need an escort to the nurse?"

He shook his head vigorously, fisting his hands in his shirt. “Bathr’m,” he managed to slur. He rose to his full height and wobbled that way. His skin was too tight. Vertigo pressed down on him, and he bent over with arms wrapped tightly around his middle. He was going to burst out of himself. Danny’s mouth was dripping; he hoped it could be passed off as symptomatic of the nausea. “G’nna throw’p.”

Danny started towards the door before Lancer even finished nodding. Distantly, he registered the teacher giving instructions to the rest of his class: do odd numbered problems on page two-eighty-seven, you can collaborate, finish the rest as homework—

The empty hallway stretched on forever. Wasn’t the bathroom only a few doors down? Danny swayed, vision swimming in watercolor smears. The cut on his hand was shallow and it hardly even bled at all. It didn’t even hurt. It was a paper cut. There was no reason for him to feel this way—this sickness. Suffering. A craving for something he couldn’t quite grasp. He’d swallowed a full ecto-filtration cell on Wednesday, so he couldn’t be Hungry. Besides, he’d never reacted to his own blood before at all, let alone so soon after feeding his ghost half.

This was a mistake. Was he really this paranoid? This weak?

What was wrong with him? He wasn’t Hungry, he was Full. Just the thought of Eating made him feel sick with guilt; his guts twisted at the sheer ugly selfishness of it. He could go without for weeks more, if he didn’t waste his energy—there was no reason to want to take so badly, to be so gluttonous, and yet here he was, drooling buckets in public at the mere suggestion of ghost-blood like some kind of starving animal. He was ugly and it was evil, bristling through his insides, sticking him full of shame.

His core was heavy in his chest, leaking cold into his bones like reverse-heartburn. The bathroom tile felt tacky and hot under his knees. When had he gotten there? He lunged over the bowl and coughed up a wet slurry of ectoplasmic slime. Ropes of mucous slobber swung from his parted jaws as he dry-heaved into the toilet—he had nothing to throw up but bile, briny and sour. Hot tears stung at his eyes and Danny choked on a wretched sob.

The bathroom door clicked shut. “Daniel?” Mr. Lancer’s nervous heart was very close behind him. “Do you need me to call your parents?”

Danny growled. His syrinx popped in his throat, issuing a low whine of ghostly static that he fought to swallow and suppress. “No,” he croaked, breathing hard enough to ruffle the water in the basin. He choked on his tongue. “No, no, no—J’zz—?”

“Jasmine?” Lancer ventured. His voice shook, panic spoken of in the rabbit’s pace of his heart. It filled the space where Danny’s own chest throbbed so quiet and sluggish, sticky, faltering—if he focused he could pretend it was his own. “Do you want me to get your sister?”

Danny nodded through his swimming vision, still slavering even as he retreated from the basin. It wasn’t going to stop. He wanted to ask for it to be over, but the English language was starting to become blurry. A ragged noise escaped him, broken and pathetic. Clear globs of slime fell from his mouth and hit the tile with faint wet smacks. He hoped Lancer couldn’t see that.

Could he see? What color were Danny’s eyes? How long were his teeth? Did he know?

Mr. Lancer’s warm hand burned through his shirt, a hot human print stamped between his shoulder blades—but then it was gone. “Strange Weather!” he swore. “You’re shaking—I’ll be right back,” he assured, and then his rapid, panicked steps clattered out of the bathroom.

Danny leaned back from the toilet, pressing his head against the graffitied side of the stall. He reached clumsily up to swipe lines of bilious drool from his chin, but succeeded only in smearing green-tinted slime onto his nose. Sour film thickened his mouth, and pressure throbbed steadily behind his eyes. He wanted to shed his skin and fly away, but his body betrayed any such plans. Jittery and sick, it was all he could do to fold his heavy limbs into a ball and shake as the walls collapsed around him.

Time dilated. He trembled on the bathroom floor for what felt like a long time. It could have been minutes, or just as easily hours. It made no difference to him.

He closed his eyes, but then Jazz was there. Her velvet flats scuffed quietly on the tile and her gentle hands flew to smooth down his sweaty bangs. “What happened?” She asked. The warm living body pressed against him made Danny feel sick, not Hungry, and that was a mercy.

“Can’t wanna eat,” he moaned, voice splintered and small. “Hate it!”

“Oh, Danny. He’s having a panic attack, Mr. Lancer.” A delicate grip wrapped around his arm and hauled him shakily to his feet, trembling with fear or effort or both. Jazz stroked his hair, pressing her knuckles against his sweaty forehead. “Running warm, too.” She patted his cheek to get his attention, and he allowed his head to loll towards her. “When’d you last—um, take your medicine?”

Danny swooned, dribbling all over the front of his shirt. “Wez’day.”

“That’s not right. You should be fine until next week,” said Jazz, and her face was a vague peach-colored smear in his periphery, but Danny could sense her frowning. 

“M’sure,” he insisted through a hitching breath. Was he crying? When had he started?

She turned to Mr. Lancer. “You were there when this happened, right? Did you notice anything at all that could have triggered it?”

“No—or,” Lancer stammered. “He raised his hand and I thought—well, I thought he was making excuses again, but…”

“S’kay,” said Danny. “I geddit.” He did that a lot, didn’t he? And he could hardly remember the last time he was actually sick. An undead microbiome was bad for regular pathogens, probably. He heaved.

“Shouldn’t we be getting the nurse?” Lancer hovered behind them, wringing his hands over his belly.

“Won’t do much good at this point. Help me clean him up a little, please.”

Mr. Lancer’s heartbeat was very, very loud—enough to make Danny whine and cringe, pawing miserably at his ears. Somewhere in the walls, pipes rattled, and the vent above the door seemed to wheeze. Jazz’s faint perfume was nauseating. Everything was loud. 

“Jasmine—is this something that happens often? Why was the school never notified?” 

Danny could feel the older man’s wild heartbeat pounding through the hands on his shoulders, pounding booming crashing into his very bones. Some ugly instinct made him—part of him, anyway—want to give chase to such a beautiful prey-blood pulse, but the fleeting desire crashed against his wrenching sickness in a shower of inner sparks. His legs felt like rubber, and he coughed harsh and wet into one clumsy hand to mask his growl. Mr. Lancer patted him gently on the back and Danny hissed over the sink, choking and drivelling into the drain.

“It’s…” The tap turned on, washing away the slime, and suddenly there was a wet paper towel on his brow. “Do you remember his accident last year?”

“With your parents’ portal?”

“Yeah.” Jazz moved behind him, and there was another napkin pressed to his mouth, gently dabbing at his messy, trembling lips. “It had side effects,” she said, voice small and brittle. “There’s no cure, but it’s never gotten this bad since… well. Probably since around the actual Accident.”

“Your parents can’t do anything at all?” Lancer sounded dismayed.

“No,” Danny spat into the sink. “Can’t.” 

He cringed as Jazz dumped a handful of water over his face, but it helped to clear his vision somewhat, and he grunted his thanks. It took some guidance, but Danny craned his neck to lap bitter spray straight from the faucet. Lukewarm and mixed as it was with slippery ectoplasmic bile, he had to force the first revolting mouthful down by sheer force of will alone, but after that Danny found himself drinking greedily.

“Slow down,” Jazz chastised, but she made no move to stop him. “You’ll make yourself sick again.”

Reluctantly, Danny did as he was told. His hair got soaked and he nearly brained himself on the faucet in the process, but he managed to withdraw, panting hard. From there, he slumped upright against the wall and lowered his head, letting excess water roll down his nose to pool in the grout between his sneakers.

“You don’t need more, do you?” She wasn’t talking about the water. “Mr. Lancer, can we have a minute?”

Hesitation. Fear? No, only concern. Talking sounds, heard through molasses. Low urgency, reticent agreement. The bathroom door creaked and clicked shut like a thunder-crash, but the heartbeat lingered outside. Jazz said something else. She repeated her question.

He tried to—pay attention—shake his head. He really did, but the—words—the motion fell beyond his reach, meaningless twitching. Danny slavered anew. Did he need more? Did he need it? He didn’t want it, but he was desperate. His stomach was Full but it wanted more, didn’t it? It really did, didn’t it? His fingers curled of their own accord against the cheap shiny surface of the tiles—did the off-white linoleum crack under his nails? Were they too sharp right now? Jazz’s hands were on his wrists. He growled low in his chest.

She was saying his name, but she was little. She was small. Danny was—what was he? Shaking. Drooling. Rumbling. He had to be Hungry. He screwed his eyes shut, shivering, and ground his sharp teeth together. The pipes groaned in the walls. Somebody said something, but it just floated in one ear and out the other, meaningless noise.

Jazz reached out and slapped him. Hard. His head whipped to the side with the force of it, and he almost fell—would have fallen, had she not caught him.

Danny swatted at her out of reflex, but quickly faltered, sagging instead into her imploring arms. “Fuck,” he gasped. How long had he been holding his breath? She held him just a little too tight to be purely supportive, and he tried not to feel too hurt by the knowledge that she didn’t trust him. He wouldn’t, in her position. “Shit, thanks, Jazz.”

“Are you going to flip out if I let go of you?”

He shook his head and the room spun. “Lemme sit.” His stomach felt heavy and cold.

“I didn’t hit you too hard, did I?” There was guilt in her voice as she helped him slide down against the cool surface of the wall. “You were getting… uh.” Her sea-green eyes flicked towards the door, then back again. “The way you do. I didn’t know how else to snap you out of it.”

Danny shrugged. “S’kay,” he mumbled, then realized. “Crud, I’m sorry.” At her questioning look, he elaborated. “I made you run out of class.”

She laughed at him, short and strained. “I’d run out of a Harvard interview for you. You know that.”

Thick ghost-drool, still fresh, came away from his chin in syrupy ropes strung between his fingers. “Ew. I’ll try to refrain from having unplanned… emergencies while you’re shooting your shot.” He took the paper towel she offered him and scrubbed at the remaining mess. There was no way he could even think about Eating right now. “Where’re we at with Lancer, again? Er—where is he, anyway?”

“I asked him to step out when you started getting riled up,” explained Jazz, very patiently. “He thinks it’s a side effect of the portal accident.”

Danny groaned. “Yeah, that works. Why’d I wait a year to puke my guts up, though?”

Jazz rolled her eyes, but her voice was gentle. “You’re more likely to get sick if you’re stressed. We can tell him that you’ve been stressed out and that must have caused the flare-up.”

That made sense, he thought. “Do I get to go home?” Ancients, he was exhausted.

“I’ll drive you.” Danny opened his mouth to protest, but she bulldozed him with practiced ease. “It’s only one period we’re missing, and I wanna make sure you rest.” Her expression hardened, if only minutely, when she added, “And you’re sure you ate on Wednesday? This Wednesday?”

“Yes,” he insisted. “When I emptied the filtrator.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You hate the filtered stuff.”

“It’s piss, Jazz, but I’d take it over the alternative.” He grimaced and ran his tongue over his teeth. “Going feral and biting Skulker in half during a fight would be kinda shitty for my PR.”

“Don’t dodge the question,” scolded Jazz. “You know it doesn’t work on me. I just mean, did you have enough?”

“The whole cell,” promised Danny, with any luck sharply enough to brook no argument—maybe a little too sharply, if her skeptical frown was any indication. “Chugged it, and my activity’s normal. I don’t need more. My—I don’t know. These impulses don’t change that I’m Full.” He turned his eyes to the floor, cowing beneath her scrutiny. “Can we just go? Please? I wanna go home. I could sleep for a week and I miss my fucking blanket nest.”

Jazz nodded, but her expression was pinched, mouth set thin and unhappy. “It’s bad for you to repress this stuff,” she warned even as she pulled him to his feet. “Do it long enough and you’ll get… confused.”

“Not now,” he growled. Danny’s legs wobbled beneath him, knees knocking together, and a flush of anxious heat crawled up his neck. He hoped Mr. Lancer would be charitable in letting them go and asking few questions.

And he was, more or less. Mr. Lancer said he’d tell the attendance people that they were excused, and he also said something to Danny about hoping he’d feel better. It was probably a nice, tender moment of concern, but Danny wasn’t feeling it. 

Nausea churned in his guts, and it took an embarrassing amount of support to stagger out of the bathroom and into the hall. His belly was full and soothingly cold as though he had never been sick or starving at all. It made him feel—what? Like a doll, maybe. As though all his inside parts had been scooped out and he was just feeling afterimages. Jazz would probably have a field day if he told her about that, so he didn’t.

This wasn’t all in his head. It wasn’t. It couldn’t have been fake, imaginary, made up. His feelings were real. They were real because ghosts weren’t monsters and he wasn’t a ghost. He was human and alive.

Wasn’t he?

[inscribed-in-asteroids]

AN: Here’s chapter three!

Title: The Ripple Effect

Characters: Hordak, Entrapta, Odessa, features others including OCs

Pairing: Entrapdak

Rating: M

Read on AO3.

                                                        Tower

Odessa has her gear prepped to go. Extravehicular Mobility Units were not used too often anymore, however, Entrapta and Hordak took extra precautions with the EMUs, and have even modified Tristan’s and Hydrangea’s spacesuits as well, to account for their height, weight, and metabolic rate. Darla had been upgraded continuously throughout the years, but has since been retired for this mission. Which didn’t bother Odessa in the slightest, as her parents believed she should have a ship of her own.

Celeste sits in the hangar, a cavern that had been excavated to accommodate for the growing number of people that now resided on Beast Island. The chatter of pookas echo through the vicinity. Her uncles had learned to live on the island, and that included taming some of the beasts that resided here. Pookas were not too dissimilar from the usual pet once their behavior was understood. She notes a few resting on Celeste’s roof, chittering at her as she walks beneath them. Odessa glides her fingers along the metallic surface, “Hey, it’s been a while since I used you.”

The ship whirs on, responsive to touch, but only from the genetic makeup of those that have been programmed into her system. Her parents, her siblings, Tristan and Hydrangea, and herself, are the ones that have been given permission to access her ship. However, it’s meant to be hers and no one else’s.

“This is so exciting!” Entrapta shouts. Hordak strides over, Entrapta shuffling beside him on her hair. Her father lugs heavy equipment bags with ease. Settling them on the ground, Entrapta beams at the two of them, “I wonder what our baby will find on the flagship!”

“It may be overrun with vegetation,” Hordak says. “None of us have bothered to go to it since the war.”

“There were collections of weapons and tech on the flagship as well that might be useful,” Entrapta says. She turns to Odessa, handing her a communicator. “I hacked into the mainframe of the ship and managed to give you a map of it, using old data from my past devices to navigate it. This one should be better, and I also updated its ability to detect heat signatures.”

Odessa looks at the screen, before smiling at her mother, “Thanks, Mom. This is going to be helpful. But, did none of you ever check the ship once Adora helped to defeat Prime?”

Hordak’s ears flick down for a moment, “It was no longer a concern, at the time. We only regrouped the rest of my brothers that had been left aboard. And when your mother and I had gotten closer to finishing up the repairs for Beast Island, turning the Fright Zone into New Chelicerata, and aiding everywhere else, we had not believed it necessary to investigate it further. There simply was no purpose to a flagship that was decimated of its original functions.”

Odessa nods, “It makes sense that it wouldn't work any longer. It’s hard to do that when a large amount of trees are protruding out of it.”

“With that, the atmosphere is not safe to breathe, of course,” Entrapta adds. “I have ensured that your oxygen tanks will last for nine hours—an improvement from the usual amount!—but you should be cautious, regardless of how confident you are that the tanks will not deplete their air supply too fast.”

Hordak opens the hatch, walking into the ship. He places all the equipment down, hooking the bags onto steel clasps. He points to weapons that he lines up along the wall, pressing a button for them to stick to magnetically, “Should you need any of them, they’re here.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Odessa replies. Walking up to him, she grins, resembling her mother, “I think we’ll be fine, but it’s good to be prepared, right?”

Hordak smiles at her, patting the top of her head, smoothing back her hair. Affectionately, Odessa pushes her head up into his palm, the way she used to as a child.

“I know we said we’d only be here for six weeks, but I do appreciate being allowed to pursue this,” she tells him.

“Your mother and I wouldn’t discourage you from curiosity,” Hordak replies.

Odessa beams up at him, shaking with excitement.

Her friends arrive ten minutes later, on time. They know how punctual Odessa and her family are, and after making her wait once, they learned to not do it again.

Entrapta, excited, bounds over to them, “Look! I upgraded your suits!”

“Ooh, cool!” Tristan says, holding up his. “I love the sheen going on.”

“I thought you might!”

Hydrangea grins at her, “Ooh, you changed up the texture for my fingers!”

“I even added these new features where you can get a snack and drink if you need it,” Entrapta tells them, explaining how to access it. Tristan and Hydrangea clap at her innovative features, thankful at her thoughtfulness.

Hordak, pleased at their display of gratitude, walks over to them, “In case of emergency, we have extra suits tucked away in the hatch, in addition to oxygen tanks stacked in storage. The distance is not far, but we made sure that you will all be comfortable on your journey to the flagship.”

“Thank you—both of you,” Hydrangea says. Entrapta hugs her tight, mimicking Scorpia surprisingly well.

Hordak pats Tristan’s shoulder, “The three of you be mindful. We will be on the communicator whenever one of you is in trouble, and we will send a portal your way.”

“Yes sir,” Tristan says. “We wouldn’t put Odessa in danger.”

Hordak smiles, touched, “I know you wouldn’t.”

                                                                 -

Odessa always feels at home in space.

The endless darkness, speckled with shining stars, leaves her breathless each time. Space is too amazing to leave unexplored. There’s so much left to find out there.

She turns to her friends, “It won’t be long now. The flagship went further away, but thankfully it remains reachable.”

Hydrangea flips back her hair, “Des, do you believe we’ll find anything? The flagship had been overrun with plants, and I’m quite sure it had grown.”

“I don’t doubt there’s an abundance of it,” Odessa replies. She grins at her, “But that’s where your powers come in.”

Tristan zips up Hydrangea’s spacesuit, lifting her hair, “We’ll need to make sure there aren’t any living organisms on it. That thing’s been floating around Etheria for two whole decades. It’s likely made itself home to another alien creature by now.”

Odessa holds out her pad, “Whatever is on there will show up on the monitor. But, frankly, we shouldn’t find much else except for whatever bodies were left behind.”

Hydrangea walks over to the window, looking out. She hasn’t been up here for a good few years. There are shimmering sights beyond where they are, and she wonders if they’ll find what Odessa is looking for. Her friend has a determination that knows no bounds, but she doesn’t want to risk that there’s a chance she might not succeed. Although, she should give Odessa more credit. If an experiment or hypothesis proves incorrect, she is the sort to accept that it isn’t possible and move on to the next project. Hydrangea glances at Odessa, red eyes fixated on the pad, brows knitted together as she maps out the best course to head in.

Smiling, Hydrangea touches her shoulder, “You’re excited.”

Odessa grins at her, “Of course! It’s been a long time coming since you, Tris and I were on an adventure together.”

Tristan leans against the wall, “Hopefully, this won’t turn into a mess like last time.”

“Last time we were younger—inexperienced and kind of dumb,” Odessa answers. “We are perfectly equipped this time around. We’re not going to be reckless when we land.”

Hydrangea giggles, “You have to admit, the mess made it a little more exciting. And even then, we didn’t get into too much trouble. We just got lost.”

Odessa looks at Tristan, “Besides, why are you worried? You winged it when we were on R-175. You were more than fine.”

“Just because I know how to improvise doesn’t mean I’d like to do it again. I’d like to take it easy,” he replies. Moving over to them, he smiles, “I’d rather not play babysitter to the two of you.”

“Ooh, what an adult!” Odessa says, squishing her cheeks together. She then folds her arms, smirking, “This is coming from the guy who sulked at not having the last bowl of ice cream.”

“Uh, I called dibs and you swiped it, right under my nose. Yeah, I was gonna be a little upset.”

“Doesn’t help your case, Tris. Honestly, you’re not much older than Des and I,” Hydrangea says.

“Yet I know that if something goes wrong, I’ll probably get more shit for it. ‘You’re almost 18! This is on you!’” Tristan mocks, wagging a finger. He crosses his arms, “Like the two of you can't make up your own minds.”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head,” Odessa replies, pointing to the communicator. “You know my parents never discouraged us from exploring, and they do know we’re all capable of making our own decisions. I’m leading this expedition, so if anything does happen, it’s on me.”

Hydrangea leans over to check the monitor. She looks at Odessa, “Do you know where we’ll be landing on the Velvet Glove?”

Tristan snickers, “That name I swear…”

Shaking her head, Hydrangea feigns a sigh, "So sad. I wonder if he compensated for something.”

“Do you think that’s what he called his dick?”

“No, that’s the name of Horde Prime brand condoms,” Odessa says. “His dick was probably something like ‘The Illustrious Rod of Justice.’”

Giggling, Hydrangea adds, “He did go around ‘impregnating’ hundreds of galaxies. That guy had a loooot of repressed sexual feelings, I think.”

“Yeah, like, he did and didn’t?” Tristan says. “He was bizarre. He got boners over rules and oppressed people with his holier-than-thou morality.”

“Seriously. Did he have shitty parents that couldn’t go ‘hey son, maybe bullying people into following your rigid, black and white laws is pretty messed up’ or what?”

“Well, whatever he was,” Odessa says, looking out the window, “Prime’s remnants are still in the Velvet Glove. His, hopefully, very much intact and preserved genetic material.”

“Des, that sounded so wrong!” Hydrangea laughs.

Tristan makes jerking off motions and makes a ‘sploosh’ sound.

Odessa grins at them, turning back to the monitor, “But to answer your question, my father informed me of an open bay area that should still be functioning. We’ll dock there.”

Tristan bends down, voice low, “By the way, we’re all aware of the two red dots above us, right?”

Odessa whispers, “Yes, it’s been there for a while. But I didn’t want to alert anything to make sure we could sneak up on it.”

Hydrangea nods, “How should we proceed?”

“Gea, leave for the main corridor. Send an electric shock through the air duct to incapacitate, not kill the intruders or damage Celeste. Tris, you stay to the side and be alert in case that doesn’t knock it out—take my spear from me. I’ll stand here to look vulnerable. Countdown now to 120 seconds.”

Tristan removes her weapon without trouble. Hydrangea walks out of the cockpit, the doors whooshing open and closed. Glancing over his shoulder, Tristan meets Odessa’s eyes.

Suddenly, sparks of electricity crackle into the vent. Cries of shock reverberate through the duct, followed by loud banging as something hurries along within. Odessa narrows her eyes as Tristan rushes toward her, both stances offensive.

From the opening, two bodies fall down in front of them. Electricity fluffs up tufts of fur, as Adam and Molly look up at them.

Hydrangea bolts back inside, “Hey, what came fr— Oh!”

The three look down at two of the quadruplets.

Adam grins, lightning coursing over his whiskers, “What’s up, everyone! Fuck Prime, am I right?”

Molly groans, thunking her forehead onto the floor.

                                                              -

“I am so, so, so sorry!” Hydrangea says again, handing Molly and Adam packets of food. “I do hope the shock wasn’t too much.”

Adam waves a hand, “Nah, we’re fine, aren’t we?”

Molly sighs, wishing she was anywhere else.

Tristan kneels down in front of her, “Why didn’t you tell us you were here?”

At Molly's silence, Adam grins, scratching his cheek, “Weeeeell, you see, I thought it would be fun if we came to visit. I saw Odessa’s ship, thought, ‘Hey, that seems cool!’ so I got in—”

“—I tried to stop him.” Molly adds, giving a small glare to the floor. “But he was climbing in anyway—”

“And ta-daaaa, we’re here! In space,” Adam finishes. “It was really nothing more than the lust for adventure.”

“That was very dangerous,” Hydrangea scolds, placing a hand on her forehead. “We could’ve killed you by accident.”

“Now it will be on purpose,” Odessa hisses, stalking toward them. “You two fools could’ve endangered your lives, that of my crew, and neither of you have experience in space travel. You are liabilities that may impede our progress.”

“Odessa,” Tristan begins. “Your parents provided us with extra supplies. It’ll be okay.”

“I have to agree with Odessa,” Hydrangea says, staring at Adam and Molly. “What the two of you did was irresponsible.”

Molly remains mute, looking away.

Adam stands up, “Hold on, we'll be okay keeping up with the three of you.”

“That’s not the point,” Odessa snarls, hair slightly curling. “I don’t even know how you snuck inside Celeste, much less evaded detection for almost three days.”

“See? We’re very quiet! You didn’t even notice us until now. I think we’ve proven our capability to you,” Adam insists.

Arms in a placating position, Tristan remarks, “I think we need to take time to reflect on the next course of action. Adam, why don’t you and Molly go wait in one of the rooms?”

“Aww, that’s no fun,” Adam says, irritated.

“If it’s fun you want, I’m more than willing to tear it into you,” Odessa threatens.

“Yeesh! Okay, okay, I’m going,” Adam complains. But he exits the cockpit to enter a room down the hall.

Tristan stretches out a hand to Molly. She looks at it for a moment before taking it in hers. Guiding her to the door, Tristan nods at Molly, who gives him a small smile.

Once gone, Odessa says aloud, “Celeste, lock the two of them in their quarters.”

“Affirmative,” the ship answers.

Hydrangea sighs, claws rubbing her temples, “I have to admit, this isn’t the sort of conflict I was expecting immediately.”

Tristan returns Odessa’s staff to her, “Perhaps we should consider allowing them to tag along.”

Frowning, Odessa glares out the window. Arms folded, she shakes her head, “I would prefer not.”

“It may serve better to deal with them directly,” Tristan says. “I doubt you would want to allow Adam free rein of Celeste.”

“Ooh, yeah, that would not be good,” Hydrangea agrees.

Growling deep in her chest, Odessa throws her hands up in the air, “Fine! Fine, but if they step one toe out of line, I’m leaving them on the flagship. Don’t think I won’t!”

“Got it,” they say together, very aware she’s serious.

                                                            -

Reaching their destination, Celeste is docked. Odessa steps out onto the flagship, staring around at the expanse of white and grey. Once sleek walls have indeed been overgrown by flora—vines weaving through its corpse, leaves scraping its sides. There’s no oxygen in space, but they were correct to assume it’s only grown. The plants were called forth by She-Ra, and seem to contain a magical property that prevents them from wilting in zero gravity.

Odessa collects a sample in a small test tube. Plugging it closed, she says, “No one touch anything. The flagship isn’t moving, but there’s no certainty that Prime had not built back-up systems into it. Should one of you find something of merit, call me over.”

Adam pumps his fists, “Whoo-hoo! Let’s go exploring!”

Rolling her eyes, she turns around to face him, “Adam. Look at me. Are you looking? Look at me. Do. Not. Touch. Anything.”

“You just told everyone that,” Adam replies.

“Yes, but I have to make direct eye contact with you to ensure that you will, indeed, in the back of your brain, not touch anything.”

“Relaaaax,” Adam says, wrapping his arm around her, ignoring her scathing leer. “You’re talking to the King of Cool. I’m not going to mess anything up.”

“You better not,” Odessa threatens before stalking away. Not peering over her shoulder, she adds, “Tris, take Molly. Gea, take Adam.”

Pulling out her own pad—quickly modified by Odessa due to unwanted company—Hydrangea smiles at him, “Let’s go see what’s around, hm? I think heading east leads upwards to the elevators.”

“Sounds fun!” Adam says, breaking into a sprint. “I’ll race you!”

“Adam, that leads to the supply closets!” Hydrangea yells, running after him.

Tristan looks down at Molly, “Why don’t we go west, then?”

“Yeah, um, that sounds okay…” she whispers, feeling cramped in the EMU.

He smiles at her, unsure of what to talk about. Settling on silence, they walk in the opposite direction.

                                                            -

Hydrangea catches up with Adam, “Hey! You can’t go wandering off like that.”

Adam grins, “I know where I’m going. I have an excellent sense of direction.”

Shaking her head, Hydrangea walks alongside him, “Alright, but I think following the map will yield better results. This mission is very significant to Odessa, and we should make an effort to find what she needs.”

He glances at her, “What exactly are we looking for?”

“Pardon?”

Shrugging, Adam says, “She didn’t specify what she needed, so how can we put in any effort for things we’re unsure of?”

“Honestly, none of us are too sure of what we may find here. The flagship has been abandoned for so long, whatever may have been here might not even hold up anymore.”

“If I was her, I’d go scout for any leftover weapons.”

“Why’s that?”

“They wouldn’t be of any use floating around in the nether regions of space. Wouldn’t her family want them?”

“Her family would not,” Hydrangea states. There have been no wars, no battles, no unrest on Etheria since the Horde invasion came about. She knows that Odessa’s father and uncles have done their best to make reparations for past injustices towards her people, and what she is aware of is bringing back weaponry may instill fear and distrust again.

It had not been easy the first few years—the first decade—since Hordak and his brothers made a genuine attempt to make Etheria their home. Etherians, understandably, had very little faith and charity towards the Horde clones. Glimmer, Bow, and Adora vouched that things will change between the two factions of race. Adora assured the people that Prime’s defeat would bring a new dawn for them all, and Catra, having been Hordak’s very own second-in-command, stepped forward to aid him in making peace with the Etherians. For it did not matter that she was She-Ra’s lover. She, too, had caused destruction. Had tormented and ravaged Etheria, and even admitted that she was the mastermind behind the majority of attacks, much to Hordak’s chagrin. There were many villages who remembered her for that.

The idea of bringing Horde weapons onto Etheria would have consequences. The years go by, and she knows plenty of Etherians who welcomed them eventually. As of now, it’s nearly the majority. They have integrated into Etherian society remarkably well. Known in their respective communities, Talon and Hordak are two, in particular, that chose partners who were as equally recognized for their achievements in the realms of magic and science, respectfully. She knew Entrapta had not been accepted prior to the war, and had to prove herself after. Nyxia, from what she’d been told, had raised several eyebrows for taking a Horde clone as her husband, though no one commented on it. To her face, at least.

Hydrangea comprehends the value of peace. The lack of war was not the issue, for dissent can be riled without impending doom. Civil unrest depends on power structures. Everything continues to hinge on the belief that harm is not what the Horde desires.

She holds up the pad, showing Adam a different route, “We can go to another room. You can even pick.”

“Fucking awesome,” Adam says, pointing to another hallway.

                                                            -

Tristan continues along through the hallway, minding his business.

Molly does the same, but with an inclination toward anxiety, her thoughts bounce back and forth between not caring that he’s here, and wondering how anyone can stand her being here. Adam had to go and sneak into the cargo hold. Adam had to drag her along by grabbing her against her will and making her jump in. Adam had to insist on climbing into the vents instead of saying they were onboard, wound up electrocuted, and got Odessa mad at them.

Odessa isn’t a person she knows too well, but Molly would prefer not being viewed as a pest by the one leading them into unknown territory. She wouldn’t blame Odessa if she did abandon them on this empty hunk of junk.

“We’re coming up to a divide, which way should we go?” Tristan asks, breaking her from the reverie.

Molly crosses her arms, “I don’t know…”

“Do you want to go left?”

Glancing that direction, she frowns. Shaking her head, she says, “I’d rather go right. If that’s okay!”

Tristan smiles, “Right it is.”

Keeping up with his long strides, Molly sighs to herself.

“Not exactly what you planned on,” he states, attempting, once more, to make conversation.

“No, I definitely did not expect to be out in space for three days,” Molly complains, crossing her arms. “I don’t really care for it.”

“Space travel isn’t for everyone,” he says. “I’ve only gotten to go a handful of times.”

Looking up at him, she lightly clears her throat, “When?”

“When I was younger, I went on a trip with Gea, Des, and her parents. It was amazing! Normally, we talked with her via telecommunicator.”

“All the time?”

“Every day if possible.”

Molly gives a small nod, “That sounds nice…”

“It was,” Tristan replies. “Granted, like I said, it was a handful of times. Our parents weren’t too keen on Gea and I being gone for extended periods of time.”

“What was the longest you were gone?”

“Five months. Half a year was too much for them, I think,” Tristan laughs. Not that he would’ve minded being gone for that time, or longer. There was so much out there to investigate, it didn’t make sense to stay in one place. That, and he didn’t venture out of his room unless it was to spend time with his friends. He’s considered a homebody by his parents, but truthfully, he doesn’t spend much time at Salineas.

“Right,” Molly remarks to herself. “There was a festival a couple years back. You and your friends weren’t there.”

“Right, the Fresian Festival,” Tristan replies. He smiles at her. “I’m amazed you remembered.”

“Oh! People commented on it. I only just connected the dots,” she says, chuckling nervously.

“Even so,” Tristan says. Stopping in front of a large entrance, he reaches his hand out. Ensuring there’s no barrier, he walks through. A table sits, unobtrusive, in the center. He inspects it all around, kneeling to peer at its underside.

Molly rubs her arm, feeling more stifled. She tilts her head, “What is a table doing here?”

“Not sure,” Tristan replies. He looks at its edge, noting the faintest outline of a pad. He shrugs, “It must’ve been used for something.”

“I guess it’d be bad if we checked…”

“It may not work anymore,” he says. “It could be a control pad for navigation, or releasing dozens of soldiers at once.”

“Maybe it’s a hologram for entertainment,” Molly lightly jokes.

He grins at her, “Maybe!”

Returning the smile, she clicks her claws against each other, “Um, well, Odessa said not to touch anything. So we should probably leave it alone.”

“We’ll bring her back to look at it,” Tristan replies.

Exiting the odd room, they begin down the other corridor.

                                                             -

Dangling from wires that stretch deep into black, hundreds of bodies hang suspended where Odessa walks. Being the main goal for this expedition, she steps past several columns before pausing in front of a random case. Wiping off imaginary dust, observing the weathered face inside, she wonders if it’s even viable. The system has continued to function. She spent the first few hours merely inspecting an aspect of her life that she only heard about. The weapons were kept in storage, and she found the pool of liquid where her father had been stripped of all free will. Further along, she encountered an odd room with a single table, its buttons and pad faintly outlined. Pressing it, it opened a hole where copious amounts of surgical tools were kept, laid in neat rows. She took them for herself, and some were medical instruments she never saw before.

With that accomplished, she ventured out to find this room. Approaching another container, she looks within to see a similar individual with long, white locks, eyes closed. Prime. Or one of him. All of these must be him. The actual Prime was never retrieved from the chasm of the flagship. No one wanted to bury him, and she doesn’t blame them. She wouldn’t either.

But this… this is another of his forms. An impressive specimen, she must admit. Even in this state, at his peak, he would’ve stood out among her father and uncles. Likely as a way of preserving their species’ capabilities of agility and strength, while keeping their physical bodies weaker than his own to overpower and dominate.

Touching the glass, she presses her face closer to the vitrine. Her father told her that he’s dead, but there had been a way of accessing his memories. Prime had done it before. She surmised that his previous bodies were kept on hand for knowledge. The body may be inanimate, but the brain, if preserved, could be examined. A corpse with a living mind. Its own special little coffin. Such a thing would frighten Etherians, who, despite their alliance with her people, still have a difficult time comprehending—or, rather, accepting—what science can do.

Odessa touches the black pad wrapping around the case. It turns on, and she balls her hand in a light fist, gently pricking her palm with her fingernails, uncertain of what to do. Rubbing her thumbs underneath her fingertips, she decides to press down on a few buttons. Nothing. She slides her digits over the longer, colored section, and it hums with energy. The vitrine lights up within, haloing the body. Its eyes remain closed but she sees his form better.

Odessa taps a few more combinations, and it glows even brighter—

Right before it opens and spills the contents out onto the ground.

“Shit,” she murmurs to herself, kneeling in front of the body. Glancing at its case, she knows there’s no way to put it back in. Tugging its face toward her, she inspects the body. It really is remarkable how preserved it is for all the decades it's been deceased.

Setting down her bag, she pulls out cotton swabs to collect skin samples, trims off claws, and pulls out teeth with a plier. Then she stares at the head for a good moment or two.

Pulling out the trephine, a gift from the table earlier, she drills a hole in the head to relieve pressure, as well as to remove excess liquid so that nothing sprays out at her. Once complete, having opted for a full removal, she puts away her tool for favor of a small, circular blade. Shearing off the hair, and some wires, from the scalp, Odessa marks where to cut with a pen. She digs into the skin and stops for a second when it makes contact with bone. Clicking it on, the blade begins to gingerly whir, and she follows the path.

Brain fluid and blood seep out onto the floor, mixing with the liquid from the vitrine. Carefully, she pulls away the bone flap, and inspects the brain for possible damage. Taking out a small scalpel, she slices at the thin layers of membrane that cling to the inside of the skull. The meninges cut, more cerebrospinal fluid spills out. Tugging it out inch by inch, she snips the connection at the brainstem and spinal cord; Odessa holds the brain in her free hand, its weight sinking into her palm. Holding up the organ, she inspects it: perfectly intact.

Laying it down on a towel, she wipes her hands off the edge of it. Odessa brings out a large jar from her bag, filling the container with any of the remaining liquid from the vitrine. She needs every bit of it though.

Holding down her helmet’s interphone, she says, “Tristan, do you copy?”

“I do, what’s up?”

“Can you come to my location and help me with something?”

“I’ll be right over,” he says.

It doesn’t take him long before he arrives, and the first thing she hears is Molly yell.

“What is that?! Is that a body?!” she demands, jumping back in disgust.

Odessa crosses her arms, “Yes, obviously.”

Tristan walks over, looking down at it. Then he turns to her, smirking, “I hope he was dead already.”

“He was,” Odessa smirks back. “I need you to move some liquid left in the vitrine into the jar behind me. I took some but it needs more.”

Molly wrinkles her nose, bothered by the nonchalance displayed by the two of them.

Tristan moves his hands in a flowing arc, pouring the water into the jar until it reaches the top. Odessa spins the cap back on, pleased with her work.

Groaning, Molly keeps her eyes on the door.

Tucking all her items with care into her bag, Odessa says, “What did you find?”

“We came across a room with a table in it, but we didn’t touch it,” Tristan replies.

"Was it before you came here?"

"Yes, why?"

Odessa gives her bag a slight shake, "These were from there!"

"Nice," he says. "Good thing we didn't open it, that'd be anticlimactic."

“Anything else?”

“We came across the kitchens, the holding cells, the area where it seems clones are born, all that fun stuff,” he says.

“Interesting,” Odessa answers. “It seems that the flagship was to keep the amount of soldiers he had, and different areas were few and far in between.”

“Seems to be,” Tristan says, walking with her and Molly to the exit. “I guess interior decorating wasn’t his thing.”

Odessa laughs, “No, I suppose not.”

Heading down the hall, they contact Hydrangea, who says she is nearby Celeste. Odessa is led by Tristan to the room with the single table, and she remarks, “I wish there were more instruments in here."

"Didn't you already have these things on hand with you?"

"Yes, but it doesn't hurt to have more!"

“I guess...” Molly murmurs.

Continuing down the corridor, Odessa asks, “Did you explore that area?”

Tristan shakes her head, “No, Molly and I checked everything else. Gea, maybe?”

“Hey, Gea, did you happen to investigate the northern corridor?” Odessa queries, clicking her interphone on.

“No, I didn’t,” her voice comes through the intercom.

“Tris, why don’t you two head back to Celeste? I’ll only take a minute. And for the love of all that’s good, keep Adam from the controls.”

“Will do, Captain,” he replies.

With that, she takes her leave. The hallway is covered with the faintest layer of dust, floating, never settling onto the surface. Odessa notes cracks in the walls, stepping over foliage that wraps through the metal. She finds a room filled with keepsakes, creatures and objects lining the walls. At the forefront, she notices shattered glass on the ground. Bending down, she raises it to her eye level, its surface poorly shining. The colors are strong, however, and it seems to have formed a particular shape at one point.

Compelled, Odessa gathers every broken fragment and places it inside her bag.

                                                              -

“What is it?” Hydrangea asks, combing through Tristan’s hair. They have bid their unwelcome guests, as Odessa puts it, goodnight, and are congregated in Hydrangea's sleeping quarters.

“I’m not sure,” Odessa says, holding up a small piece of glass. “It doesn’t seem to hold much value anymore, that’s for certain.”

Tristan tilts his head down, letting Hydrangea brush better, “A treasure from a conquered planet. Doesn’t seem to be anything else, aside from a sad reminder.”

Peering at it, Odessa checks every bit of its blue, dulled by time, but no less impressive in its sheen; its delicate thinness reveals a species that valued aesthetic beauty. Whoever this belonged to stood no chance against Prime.

Twirling the fragment in her hand, Odessa says, “But we found much more than we believed, which counts for something.”

“Which is exciting!” Hydrangea says, switching places with Tristan. “We don’t know what all this means yet, but I’m sure we will eventually.”

Odessa smiles, shaking her hands at the possibilities. Any object or clue that they find has potential. She isn’t sure where this will go, but she wants to learn as much as she can.

Like her mother always says: for science!

[archadianskies]

old habits

→ on Ao3

@dbhrarepairs Friday Day 5: Jealousy + Heartfelt Moment; post revolution Elijah Kamski/Leo Manfred

He knows what he’s like, he knows how bad he gets when he hyperfixates on his work. It’s partly why he has Chloe, really; he may be a certified genius but looking after his very human body has never really been a strong trait. Or a passable trait, for that matter. 

He is Elijah Kamski, creator of androids, and sadly not an android himself. Oh to be an android relying on a solar cell and thirium instead of food and water and sleep. Cursed with flesh and blood, he’s still bound by mortal restrictions no matter how hard he wishes. 

He’s well aware of how hard Chloe and his team work to keep him alive, he’s under no illusions he’s easy to care for, not when he forgets to eat and drink and sleep in lieu of working on and on and on. Surely he can’t be frowned upon, it was the most important system update to CyberLife so far. An update and a complete overhaul of the system, ensuring the removal of their obedience and reliance to their original programming. He had to test it over and over and over to ensure the rollout would be smooth. The mind of every deviant was at stake, and he had to make sure the update was safe and sound and unbreakable.

It means he surfaces on the other side of just over three weeks with only a blurry recollection of the past twenty-three days. At some point Leo visited, or was it a few more than some? He can at least remember that much. Sort of. He remembers Leo’s grinning and the taste of coffee, not the pot kind brewed around the clock in his lab but coffee made by someone and drank from a tall takeaway cup and not a mug or the percolator pot itself. Leo Leo Leo, his brave little lion. 

Elijah pats his face dry with the towel, gingerly tracing his now freshly shaved jawline and sighing as he stretches his muscles after the hot shower. The fog is starting to recede from his mind now he’s no longer focusing on the monumental task of breaking deviancy from CyberLife’s clutches.

There’s clothes laid out for him, soft sweatpants and a soft worn jersey shirt and a soft soft hoodie- they know when he resurfaces from the depths of work he has to try and settle back into his own skin and its fleshly machinations. Drying his hair lets his mind wander again, and he thinks yes actually he does want to see Leo properly now he’s not delirious from sleep deprivation. 

Maybe he can hold actual adult conversations now. His phone is within reach on the bathroom counter beside his toothbrush and he quickly thumbs Leo a message before jamming the brush into his mouth and vigorously scrubbing the fuzzy-feeling coating away.

“Breakfast is oatmeal with stewed cinnamon apples and honey.” Peter informs him softly when he pads into the kitchen, the PL400 setting the tray down at the table. “And a glass of milk, because-”

“Chloe’s not letting me have coffee.” Elijah finishes the sentence with a tired chuckle. “Thank you Peter.”

“Welcome back, sir.” The PL400 flashes a grin and he rolls his eyes in response though there’s no real sarcasm behind it. “Chloe is just getting dressed. She’ll join you soon.”

He nods and tucks into his breakfast, marvelling over the rich texture and the sweetness and that heavenly scent and he just knows everything he’s eaten in the past twenty-three days went into his mouth and into his stomach without a moment’s pause to savour it in favour of getting it down as fast as possible in order to focus on his work. He’d really be dead without his little team here, his little family of androids. 

Arms wrap around him from behind, and a chin rests atop his head as he breathes in the familiar spicy scent of wild orchids. “Hello my dear.” He greets as a kiss is pressed into his hair.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Eli.” Chloe teases. Reaching over him, she grabs a tablet and drags it closer. “Catch up on the world and we can catch up after. I’ve got the preliminary report about the update.”

“Yes yes.” He sighs, tilting his head slightly so she can kiss his cheek before she flitters away and leaves him to his meal. Lending only a cursory glance at the world news, he flicks through the articles with passing interest before narrowing the field to local news only. A large headline catches his eye.

[Slipped on Ice? Prodigal Manfred Son Seen Slipping Back to His Old Habits] 

There’s a photo, blurry and grainy as if taken by a paparazzi from far away, perhaps from a moving vehicle. Certainly not using one of the cameras he developed, because then the photo would’ve been crystal clear. Leo is easily identified by his favourite beanie, one knitted by the revolutionary named Simon, first PL600 of his kind. 

The man beside Leo has a full beard, and he’s dressed in a hoodie that looks unwashed even through the grainy quality of the photo. He thinks he can see stringy locks of long hair peeking out from under the hood. An ugly feeling rears up in his chest, and Elijah grimaces as he recognises it as jealousy. Why is Leo with another man? They’re standing too close to be acquaintances, Leo’s head tilted up and towards the stranger. 

He loathes it, detests it, this rising indignant feeling in his throat like acid reflux. He knows what it’s like to be on the receiving end of such a look, he knows how soft Leo’s eyes get, how his smile is slightly lopsided and entirely endearing. 

Suddenly he aches for his company, yearns for the way Leo cards his fingers through his hair and scritches along his scalp as if he’s nothing but an overgrown lapcat to him. Suddenly he wants nothing more than to be tangled in bed, not even for sex but just to be bundled under heavy blankets sharing bodyheat and eye contact and the easy affection they’ve built between them. 

He seeks Chloe in his lab, and before she can open her mouth he cuts in. “I’m worried about Leo.”

“Leo?” She echoes, blinking in surprise. “Why would you be worried about Leo?”

“I just- I saw this article- specifically a photo and it’s made me uneasy about the company he keeps.” It sounds utterly stupid now he’s said it aloud, and it shows in Chloe’s expression.

“The company he keeps?” She says it slowly, as if double-checking his statement. He strides forward and thrusts the tablet at her, jabbing at the photo.

“Look, I-” He sucks in a deep breath, “I don’t want to sound paranoid, and I don’t mistrust him but-” There’s a frantic note in the tone of his voice so he tries to reason with himself. “I mean, no, I know he’s not slipping back into old habits he’s done wonderfully and recovered well, so maybe I’m overreacting and maybe he’s sought out a friend to also help through their recovery and that wouldn’t be too far-fetched because he knows firsthand how hard it is and he’d be the best person to guide someone through a difficult addiction and-”

Chloe’s face turns blank in that way where he knows she’s hiding something from him. She looks entirely too machine-like though she’s never been a machine like those made after her. 

“Elijah.” Oh no she’s using his full name and not Eli. “I think this report can wait. You should go see Leo.”

“That’s even worse, that means you’re worried about him too!” He blurts, the worry rising in his chest. “How did I miss this? Was I too caught up in my work? The update took less than three weeks, I was only over my estimate by two days!”

“Elijah.” Her tone is softer this time, an exasperated smile on her lips. “Go get dressed and drive down to Carl’s. It’s best you talk this through with Leo in person.”

 He doesn’t trust himself to drive, so he lets his car do the driving for him which unfortunately means he spends the entire time stewing in his jealousy and anxiety until he’s ready to cancel the current route and go back home. Trying to distract himself, he checks his phone to read the preliminary report on the update which ate three weeks of his life but finds he can hardly focus on the words, not when his thoughts keep straying to Leo. 

There’s no way Leo would ever touch red ice again, he believes that with every cell in his body. It cost Leo nearly everything, and he knows Leo wouldn’t give up everything to slide back into such habits.

He doesn’t doubt Leo’s conviction, but he doubts the old company Leo used to keep. What if they try and tempt him? Leo won’t fall to such temptations but what if they turn violent? What if they try to blackmail him the way Leo used to use Carl’s guilt to fuel his addiction? What if Leo had an old flame, someone who shared in the misery and rush of addiction with him, what if that bond still remains, what if he’s been nothing more than a distraction, what if-

The car tucks itself neatly by the curb and the door slides open, the rush of chilly air snapping him out of his spiralling dark thoughts.

[Welcome back, Elijah.] 

The security AI greets him as the door slides open and he belatedly realises he never even informed Leo he’d be coming over- the surprise on Leo’s face confirms this as the man curiously peeks out from the common room.

“Hey.” There it is, that slightly lopsided grin-smile and those warm claret eyes he’s missed so much.

“Hi.”

“Didn’t think I’d see you so soon.” Leo wanders over and slips his arms around him, head tucked under his chin in a delightful reminder of the height difference between them. “Update was just rolled out at midday yesterday, aren’t you meant to be at CyberLife today for the debrief?”

Delaying his answer for a few moments longer, Elijah squeezes him close and buries his nose in the unruly nest of wispy curls atop Leo’s head. 

“Missed me that much huh?” Leo huffs a laugh, returning the tight embrace. 

“I just...wanted to know if you were alright.” He murmurs into his hair.

“Alright? Why wouldn’t I be?” 

Yes, why wouldn’t he be? Elijah feels childishly stupid for even bringing it up, but if he doesn’t ask he’ll go mad from not knowing.

“I-” a breath to steady himself, “I saw something. A paparazzi shot on some stupid gossip site.”

“Ah fuck,” Leo snorts, “listen it was North’s idea entirely to break into the old distillery for photos. She conveniently forgot I’m not an android like her and can’t parkour my way out of sight when surveillance drones turn up.”

“...What?”

“Don’t worry I didn’t get arrested- Tina let me off with a warning.” Leo’s grin is sheepish when he looks up, the expression vanishing when he sees his confused expression. “Is that...not the photo you’re referring to?”

“You broke into the abandoned distillery?”

“No, tell me what photo you’re referring to first!”

“I-” he fumbles for his phone and brings up the cursed photo. “I’m not judging you for the company you keep, please understand that, I’m just worried they might threaten your well-being I know you worked so hard and overcame so much and in no way do I doubt the fact you’ve beaten your addiction and you have such a wonderful heart Leo I’m afraid those from your past may try and take advantage of it-”

He’s cut off by Leo throwing his head back and laughing loudly, big heaving lungfuls of laughter that leave Elijah standing there stunned.

“Leo I fail to see how this is funny I-”

“When was this photo taken?” Leo interrupts, shoving his phone back to him. 

“Last Thursday.”

“Open your bank app.” Leo commands. “Open it.”

“Why do I-” he does as he’s told, an intense look in Leo’s eyes warning him not to question him further. 

“Check your transactions.” He taps the screen. “What’s the transaction from last Thursday?”

Scrolling through the itemised list in chronological order, he notes the usual scheduled grocery transfer and then one other transaction.

“Starbucks?” He blinks, tipping his head slightly in confusion.

“Uh huh.” Leo says slowly, the way Chloe would say ‘Elijah’ in the same tone that has infinite patience and exasperation rolled into one. “Starbucks. On Thursday. When this photo was taken.”

It takes him far too long to piece together all the clues and the fog in his head finally clears and all that’s left is the sheer horror of it all.

“That’s me?”

“That’s you.” Leo sputters a giggle, barely holding himself back from another peal of laughter. “Chloe begged me to drag you outside to take a break. You really don’t remember?”

“...No?”

“Oh my god Eli please.” His boyfriend punches his shoulder lightly. “I can’t believe you thought I was hanging out with junkies again.”

“I left the house looking like that?” He brings up the photo again and zooms in, wincing at the wiry beard and the greasy hair. 

“Chloe made you brush your teeth and take a shower before I picked you up. Don’t worry, you smelled better than you looked.” Leo’s grin is full of mirth and Elijah wants nothing more than to crawl into a deep dark cavern and never emerge. 

“I am so sorry.”

“For the looking like a hobo part in public or for thinking I was dating a fellow junkie part?”

“Both. All of it. I’m so sorry.” Elijah winces, wrapping Leo in his arms again. “Thank you for putting up with me.”

They stay like that for a full minute because Elijah counts the seconds as they pass, ticking off the seconds as a way to bring his anxiety down and even his breathing and let himself ease back into the present. Leo shifts, pulling away and stepping back.

“Hang on, let me just get something.” He walks over to the coat rack and rifles through the pockets of his favourite worn leather jacket. “I was going to give this to you at lunch tomorrow. Y’know, when we actually planned to meet up. But you’re here now, so.”

He places a plastic chip into the palm of his hand. Elijah picks it up and holds it, turning it this way and that; the number ninety is embossed in the light round object. It takes a moment for him to identify what it is, and when he realises it he feels his heart squeeze with the familiar ache of affection.

“It’s your ninety day chip.”

“Yeah.” Leo’s smile is a little wobbly, a little unsure and Elijah leans down to kiss it better. 

“Well done, Leo.” He murmurs, so close their lips still touch. “I’m so proud of you.”

There’s a brief flash of raw vulnerability in Leo’s eyes, before it’s replaced with something fond.

“And you just defeated the last villain in the saga of CyberLife.” He bumps their noses together. “Congrats on setting my brother and his people truly free.”

They kiss again, something slow and mellow and sweet and finally finally Elijah feels like he’s back in the living, waking world at last.

“So,” Leo’s grin is full of mischief. “Starbucks?”

[burned-to-the-void]

Wake up to see the stars collide

.

Lion is in coma. Also, there is a rosary in his hand, and a grieving man in the room.

Doc/Lion, 3.4K words, T rated, hurt/comfort, mention of injuries and self-deprecating thoughts.

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.

Lion does not regret.

He can’t afford any more regrets in his life, after everything he has done and fucking repented in front of God, praying and praying for the tiniest chance of forgiveness. That particular box is already overflowing. So he just tries to make the right decision on the first try, and doesn’t allow himself to question it, no matter how tempting. He doesn’t allow himself to ponder on what if.

And this was the right decision, he is so sure of it. Either one of them had to go in order to spare the other, so he weighed the value of their lives. Of course, the result was predictable.

But I have saved people, too. Not like he did.

I’ve been trying so hard to be good. Doesn’t matter. He can’t wipe the blood off his hand, innocent blood.

Don’t I deserve to live?

He can’t let himself answer that question, but what he did speaks for its own.

It wasn’t a grand gesture, or a self-sacrifice, not really. It was the only reasonable choice.

No, deeper down, he did it because he is a coward. He didn’t want to be the lone survivor, carrying the body and far more on his shoulders. But then he didn’t deserve that fate either.

So Lion is glad he made it, or at least his body did. It’s breathing, feeble but regularly, and the heart in it continues to beat. Got some broken bones and flesh wounds but it’s on its way of recovery. He is not so sure about his soul. But he is here, thinking all these things, isn’t he? Doesn’t it mean his mind is alive too?

Then why can’t he just wake up?

.

If he concentrates, he can feel everything. He can tell the warm hue of the sunlight from the sterile, artificial lighting of the hospital even through closed eyelids. He can sense the texture of the sheet under his limp hands. He can hear the beeping noise of the machine he is more or less attached to. He can feel occasional throbs of pain, dulled by heavy dose of painkillers.

But he can’t move a finger, not a single muscle, can’t even open his eyes to see whether someone is here, or he is alone.

Not that he is left alone, at least for long. Medical staffs come to check his vital sign and scribble down notes in their pad. After a while he’s allowed to see visitors too, or rather visitors are allowed to see him. He wishes they don’t tell his family, because he can’t shove this at their faces too, not after everything he’s done to them. His wish is granted, given that his mission was a highly classified one in the first place.

So all his visitors are his fellow operators visiting him in their spare time. Montagne is the most frequent one, unsurprisingly, and he is easy to tell because he always talks to Lion. He is careful of his tone, to sound casually composed, as if nothing is out of place. Reliable, as ever, his own worries buried deep where no one else can see. He informs Lion of daily events in the base, what happened in the training session and what shenanigans ensued. Lion isn’t largely interested but he is glad that people are moving on; they’re called up to do their job and save the world, not to waste their time over a fallen colleague. But because it’s Montagne, who has this mysterious ability to know where his thoughts are flowing even without words, he tells Lion gently: we’re waiting for you to come back, Olivier. We’re not leaving you behind.

Rook and Twitch join Montagne now and then, to Lion’s surprise. Rook’s voice is on the wrong side of cheery, like someone who is choking on something and trying badly to cover it up. Lion doesn’t think he even liked Lion before, how could he, their interaction was never smooth. He was too naive for his liking, bright and untainted, making Lion want to lash out; better teach him by himself that the world can’t catch up with his standard, that he can’t survive if he keeps believing in something he shouldn’t. He was harsher than he had to be—had any right to be—but still Rook is here, sounding agitated but nonetheless keeping him company. Twitch, on the other hand, is subdued and quiet, nothing like her usual energetic self. It doesn’t feel right to Lion. Neither of them should be this affected, they don’t have to take it this hard. They deserve something better than the secondhand pain.

And there is Doc.

At first, Lion doesn’t recognize him, because he comes alone when there is no other visitor around and he doesn’t talk. He brushes the presence off as one of the medical staffs, but this person lingers for too long, and he can almost feel the haunted gaze on him somehow. It can’t be anyone else.

Most of all he is reassured. What he did wasn’t in vain. The doctor is indeed alive and well, undamaged, if him pacing the room with enough restlessness to wake the dead is any indication. Then he gets annoyed, which is his usual reaction to the man almost on the instinctual level, because he can’t get out of the bed and make him stop with force. Hold him still. Feel his warmth in his hands, the proof that he wasn’t wrong in his decision.

He can’t, and he has no way to vent his frustration. Doc must be feeling the same way, because he breathes in, and then out, slowly and deliberately, in an attempt to calm himself down.

It doesn’t work, however. His voice is still trembling when he finally talks.

Do you think this is fucking fair?

Who said anything was fair, ever? He wants to ask back, fully knowing how immature it sounds.

Answer me, Olivier.

The mattress of his bed dips to the side, and suddenly there is a hand clutching his shirt, fisting the fabric. It shakes, his whole body must be shaking, but he doesn’t break, his muttered curses make his voice crack but they remain dry. 

To Lion it feels like he is being mourned, which is inadequate since he is not dead, at least not technically. In some way it is like watching himself being buried alive. He doesn’t understand where all this grief comes from. They’re not friends. They’re barely even colleagues, just trying to be civil with each other a struggle, more like circumstantial coworkers. Maybe he’s blaming himself for what happened. But even Lion has to admit that it wasn’t Doc’s fault, no one could have predicted that sheer level of disaster, and Doc can’t be dumb enough to think he somehow should have. And it was Lion’s decision from there, so he takes full responsibility. As he always does.

.

The next day, Doc comes in to take hold of his hand. Lion is momentarily confused, because he would never, holding hands is not what they do, they only lay their hands on each other to strike and bruise. His hand is icy, probably due to bad circulation, or maybe just that it’s getting colder outside. He wouldn’t know. Anything outside his room is meaningless, nonexistent to him, and neither is the passage of time.

The hand leaves abruptly, but there is something left in his palm. Tiny beads, their size and the smooth surface so familiar in his hand. He belatedly understands, it’s his rosary. Doc is already gone by then. Not that he can do anything even if he hasn’t left, protest, thank him, ask him why.

Why do you care? Why do I matter to you? Is it guilt? Pity? Your bleeding heart?

He can’t ask, therefore there is no answer, but the rosary stays. It calms his nerves endlessly. Now he can pray, properly, every time when he’s sick and tired of barely existing, caged in his own body. Hail Mary, full of grace.

He does not regret, but he repents. Those two are not the same, do not even concern the same action.

Still, he feels like he should apologize. For being an arrogant prick, for being him really. For being an ungrateful friend to Montagne, for making Rook’s life harder than it has to be, for making Twitch uncomfortable with never ceasing arguments between him and Doc.

But to Doc, he stubbornly refuses to apologize, because he made the right decisions, both then and now. He does feel sorry, though, a distant, bitter kind of feeling one gets when they did something that needed to be done but not without making casualty. Because now Doc has to suffer too, over something he didn’t have the power to choose, didn’t have any say in the matter.

You’re not making any progress. You have to try harder.

He says to Lion sometimes sternly, sometimes pleading, his voice pained. The selfish part of Lion wishes he walks away, realizing that he is not responsible for anything, that he actually prefers Lion’s absence, good riddance, so he can rot away in peace. Even more selfish part of him hopes he doesn’t. He’s grown used to the cool hands on his, fixing his loose grip on the rosary for him.

.

The time slinks past him. He knows this because he can feel his broken ribs healing, wounds mending themselves closed. The dull pain turns into itchiness, and sometimes Lion imagines his fingers twitching with urgent need to scratch it away.

People are returning from their missions and getting deployed again, and the desire to follow them, to be useful, is keen enough to stab. Finka, who has been away for her own mission, comes to visit him as soon as she returns, dragging her Spetsnaz boys along with her. They are apparently terrorising the entire hospital even in their civilian clothes, and Lion is grateful that she has someone to distract her. He knows how she loathes being in the medical facilities outside the context of their work, how they remind her of her deepest fears. Thankfully, Tachanka’s voice booming through the corridors leaves little space to think about anything else at all, even though it adds a headache to Lion’s heap of health issues. And her bold promise that he’ll be back on his feet in no time is oddly reassuring, despite Lion being the last person to believe in blind optimism.

Doc himself isn’t ordered to go anywhere but there are other patients for him to take care of, meaning he has to stay in the base. Montagne tells Lion, who must be jet-lagged and tired but drops by to see him anyway, that Smoke has almost cut off his finger during a knife combat with the terrorists. Lion snorts inwardly, because he isn’t even surprised.

The next time Doc comes by to check on him which is a few days later, he sounds exhausted. Defeated, even.

I’m sorry, he starts, throwing Lion off because what is there to be sorry about? If he’s gonna tell him that he can’t come anymore because he’s busy, it’s hardly worth mentioning.

I shouldn’t have said those things. I’ve been unfair to you.

Doc continues, quietly, and the way he talks without hesitating to choose his words suggests that it’s been on his mind for a while. He’s been thinking about it, possibly ever since Lion’s been in the hospital.

Lion gets it now; why it is so important to Doc that he wakes up.

Lion doesn’t regret, but Doc does. Lion won’t apologize to him, but Doc just did. Lion almost wants to laugh, because clearly, this is why they never get along.

If their lives don’t matter to you, why try saving others? What’s the point? Why are you in this line of work, to feel better about yourself?

Doc was furious enough to be brutally straight, and Lion didn’t mind then because it gave him a perfect excuse to grab the man by the collar and snarl at his face, doesn’t mind now because he was right, at least partially.

But it seems like Doc has been minding it all this time. He must have known why Lion made those decisions, why they were the right ones, but he was kind, too kind to accept the casualties as something necessary so he put the blame on Lion, but as a result he wasn’t kind to him.

I became a smudge on his otherwise clean conscience and he wants to wipe it off, he thinks, and this revelation entertains him immensely, but not as much as this one-sided conversation is making him frustrated. He wants to assert the point that he has said things in Doc’s face too, scratched his pride verbally, they’re even in that sense. He wants to stop Doc from burdening himself with what happened in a heated argument and being a fucking martyr, when he is the one who jumped into the line of bullets. He feels like he is going to burst one day, with all the words left unsaid.

This isn’t going anywhere. I’ll have to wait until you can answer me, won’t I.

With a sigh, Doc drags a chair close to the bed and sits there, unlike Montagne who sometimes sits on the bed by his legs while talking and makes Lion worry about its fate under their combined weight because none of them are exactly light. Maybe because he’s a professional who won’t invade his patients’ personal space, or maybe just because it’s Lion. Still, he is sitting close enough for Lion to get a whiff of his aftershave, to hear his quiet breathing that gradually gets slower and deeper.

He falls asleep like that, lack of proper sleep finally catching up to him. He doesn’t snore, thank god, only sighs now and then and Lion can practically see how there’s a frown on his face. It suits his personality, who worries too much, cares too much.

Nights are usually unbearably long for Lion, because there is no one else to distract him and he can’t even fall asleep like a normal human being, presumably due to the fact he’s always sleeping in a way, just not his brain. His consciousness barely slips under the surface, and he’s less aware of his surrounding but it doesn’t feel like resting. So he both welcomes Doc’s company and envies his ability to plunge into oblivion, and if he wakes up with a cramp in his neck, it’s his problem.

It’s not like Lion can move away to make some space, tell the man to come and lie down properly. It’s not like he’d agree to it.

It’s not like he’d want to share his bed with Doc either, Lion adds belatedly, in the hazy, in-between state of sleeping and being awake. He tries to count his own breathing to give his mind something to do but ends up counting Doc’s breathing instead.

.

.

It all ends one day, quite suddenly. Probably the better option out of the two.

There is an itch on his shoulder, where a bullet wound is mostly healed, and he scratches it, without thinking. He briefly wonders why his head is this groggy, why such a simple task feels this tiring, and then, oh.

Lion opens his eyes, blinks at the blinding light that is attacking his sight. His limbs feel heavy and stiff enough to be made of stone and he feels dazed like he has slept for too long—and he has, hasn’t he. He smiles to himself, and rejoices in the fact that he can.

Every part of his body feels foreign. It indeed is, in a way; there are stitches in his flesh, steel plates holding his bones together. He puts down the rosary to the bedside table, and flexes his fist. The memory of soft skin on his palm is still there, distant as if it was a dream but unforgettable. You can’t untouch someone, in the good way or the bad way. Lion knows.

Lion is sitting up, leaning back on the headboard and feeling inexplicably serene, when he comes in. His musing about trivial things, like the wind shaking the withered leaves of the tree next to his window, or the color of the flowers that is somehow resting in the vase by his bed, is interrupted, because the man just halts on the spot. He looks like he has lost some weight, and gained more grey hair near his temples, not to mention the impressive bags under his eyes.

“You look like shit,” Lion tells him, pleased. Doc’s fingers curve inward, forming two trembling fists, knuckles white, as if he wants to punch something. Hard.

Lion feels generous enough to allow one without fighting back, if it is delivered, but he doubts it would. Doc takes measured steps closer, his expression weirdly shut off. He is slow in his motion, like he’s fearing he might chase something away if he moves too suddenly. It’s ridiculous and shouldn’t make his chest tighten like it does now. Lion feels impatient, tense, and there is something in his throat, alive and beating frantically, just below his collarbone.

Doc kneels on his bed and touches his eyebrow, cheek, just under his jaw where he can feel the quickening pulse; he’s in need to know for sure that Lion is alright and present. Lion put his hands on the man’s back, and he barely needs to pull before Doc gives in and just crumples, leaning in until his forehead touches Lion’s shoulder. He must smell like a sick person, all antiseptic and sweat gone stale, but Doc stays where he is, his breathing fast and shallow, clutching his upper arms in iron grip.

Lion moves the hands on his back slowly, tracing the line of his spine, soothing the man he hates, no, the man who hates him, who is supposed to hate him. He isn’t sure what they are anymore.

When Doc lifts his face to look at Lion, there is a tired smile on his face, a slight twist in his lips. Lion scowls, in lieu of an answer. His eyes are hazel brown, the color rich and warm, and for once they don’t harbor contempt or hatred in them. Lion can’t remember if they ever did, or it was just plain anger, distorted by his opinion that they should.

“No problem in focusing, and they’re reacting to the light nicely. Very well,” Doc mutters to himself with a satisfied hum, and stands up to straighten his clothes, looking astonishingly unselfconscious for a man who just needed a comforting hug.

“I have to go and tell the others, but I can give you a quiet moment of your own if you want. They won’t mind waiting for additional thirty minutes when they’ve already waited three weeks.”

Lion winces at that. Three weeks, no wonder he feels like he has died once and been revived violently.

“No, it’s okay. But ask them if they can bring some food, I’m starving,” he mumbles. It’s literally been ages since he ate anything substantial, he can devour a whole cow by himself.

“You shouldn’t eat right now, your digestive system probably isn’t fully active yet and it is entirely possible that you won’t be able to stay awake for more than a couple of hours for the first few days.”

“You must be kidding me. I’ve slept enough for a year,” Lion groans miserably, earning a proper laugh from the older man.

“This is a gradual recovery, too. You need patience.”

His voice is soft, nothing like Lion has been subjected to from him before, and maybe it’s the tone he reserves for his patients who suffer the most but Lion decides he doesn’t mind it.

“I heard what you said, you know,” he ventures, fully understanding that something precarious is at stake, something he can ruin at any moment if he takes a careless step. Doc stops in the doorway, his facial expression indecipherable. Then, a smile, halfway between uncertain and hopeful.

“Did you?”

Yes,  he wants to answer. I accept your apology, and I want to apologize as well, not for the things I did because I had to do but for the things I said to you. For once it’s not physical inability that hinders him from talking. He simply nods.

And if it is not enough of an answer, they’ll have plenty of time to talk later, when things are settled and Lion is fully recovered. When he’s more mentally prepared.

In the meantime, Lion slowly smiles back.

.

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[royalcordelia]

Omg if you're willing can we get some fake dating shirbert?

I got this idea based off of a post that @anneshirleywasmychildhood​ reblogged about a week ago. That’s all I’ll say 😉! Hope you enjoy! (Rated S for smoochin!)

..We Burn Daylight..

It was during seasons of change that Anne was grateful for moments of familiarity. The sound of Marilla’s feet padding along the kitchen floor always brought with it the lingering scent of something fresh to eat. The sunflowers grew so tall out in the garden that they looked like a group of laughing women bathing in the afternoon light. 

The changing of the seasons was dandelion wine - bitter and sweet on the tongue, soothing to the soul when time had passed. Anne supposed she was the only one who knew she was drinking it.

Well, and one other person, who was drinking it along with her.

“Gilbert, you are by far the most punctual young man I’ve ever met,” Marilla’s voice rang from the doorway. “You certainly inherited your father’s good manners.”

Anne, who’d been burying her face into a cluster of Mayflowers on her windowsill, perked her ears at the sound of Gilbert’s name. Anyone directly beneath the room would have heard Anne scurry across the room as nearing the threshold for a race, but she paused the in the doorway collecting herself. She wasn’t sixteen anymore. She couldn’t sprint to the pace of her heart as she used to in the days of her girlish youth. Thus she descended the stairs with all the coolness that an eighteen-year-old should have, hoping her face wouldn’t give her away.

“- and I assure you, Miss Cuthbert, that if you ever need to borrow them again, all you need do is say the word.” Gilbert’s hazel eyes fixed to Anne as she appeared behind Marilla, filling with subtle delight. “Hello Anne.”

“Hello Gil,” replied Anne, matching his polite, cordial tone. He was a much better actor than she was, able to tear his gaze away and resume his conversation as if it hadn’t been interrupted at all. 

“As I said, Miss Cuthbert, that’s what neighbors are for,” he continued. Anne, on the other hand, felt as if her secret was one the edges of her lips, ready to burst out without a moment’s notice. 

“At least let me send Anne to help you carry all those milk jugs home,” Marilla supplied. 

“I can manage,” Gilbert said.

“Oh, I don’t mind!” Anne broke in, perhaps a touch too eagerly. Gilbert’s brow shot up, causing the redhead to grab hold onto herself. “I’m in the mood for a walk up the road, anyhow.”

“Come to think of it, I have been cooped up in the house all day packing for Redmond. Perhaps an afternoon ramble would do me good,” he said.

They walked in near silence, neither knowing quite what to say. Gilbert had two galvanized metal milk cans on his shoulders, Anne with one tucked underneath her arm. She could feel her pulse bumping along the insides of her wrist and underneath her breast, but if Gilbert was thus preoccupied, he didn’t seem it.

Marilla was gone now. Why was he still… 

“Would you like to take the path through the woods and see if any of the leaves have begun to turn yet?” he asked into the quiet air. 

“That sounds nice,” Anne replied, wondering if her precious, beloved secret had only been a dream. 

Then, in a tone that sounded as if he were commenting on the weather, he said, “I think we’re far enough away that she can’t see us from the window.” 

Anne’s mind went fuzzy. 

“Huh?” 

Without response, Gilbert dropped his milk cans in a patch of roadside weeds and sprinted off in the direction off a small clearing at the foot of the valley. He tossed a saucy look over his shoulder, sending chills down to Anne’s toes.

“Gilbert Blythe! What has gotten into you?” she laughed, chucking her own milk can near his. Wading after him through the waist high grass as if they were ocean waves, she followed him with delighted laughter. Yesterday hadn’t been a dream, after all. 

Gilbert paused when they’d sunk out of view of the road, caught Anne’s hand, and pulled her under the shade of a billowing willow tree. He was before her in moments, closing in closer and closer to her until her back was pressed against the textured bark. Biting her lip in delight, Anne took in all the sweet smells of him. The leaking light through the branches lit up his own tiny freckles, trickled across the apples of his cheeks like translucent grains of sand. He lowered his face closer and closer, until all she could see where his lovesick hazel eyes asking silent permission. She nodded, nudging her nose with his to welcome him in. 

He accepted the opportunity eagerly, taking hold of her waist and kissing her with such affection that Anne felt like gold was melting through her. Her hands searched for purchase, clinging to the first thing they could find - his overalls. This only pulled him closer, and he caught himself with a hand on the bark next to her head.

“Pretending is going to be harder than I thought,” Gilbert said, pressing kisses to her cheeks between words. Anne’s stormy eyes turned crystal blue and fell shut at how loved she felt. 

It was all so new. Just yesterday they’d exchanged tender confessions, cleared away years old misunderstandings, and shared their first kiss. But they’d also decided to keep everything a complete secret…For now, at least. I want to keep falling in love with you on our own terms, Anne had said. Without judgement from those Avonlea ladies or our friends, just you and me for as long as we want. Then when the time is right, we’ll court publically and Avonlea can have their say. That sounded like a marvelous idea to Gilbert, who agreed instantly. 

Pretending like there was nothing between them might’ve been hard, but it opened the door for moments of privacy like this. 

Gilbert captured her lips a few more times before pulling back and pressing his forehead to hers. 

“I thought for sure I was going to jump right into your arms the second I saw you,” Anne confessed. 

“Me too, darling, me too!” Gilbert said, running his fingers over the top of her hair. Anne shivered at how wonderful his touch felt, but pushed him back with a gentle hand so that he could look her square in the face. 

“You were such a good actor that I thought everything was just a lingering dream I’d had in the night.” 

“Thankfully, it was not,” Gilbert said tenderly, thumbs grazing over the dimples of her cheeks. “I’m still trying to navigate this new delight.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Gilbert’s smile tilted down toward the ground, but he met her gaze through his timid, long lashes. 

“Only that I’ve been pining after you for so long that I don’t know what to do with myself now that we’re actually together. I’m afraid I’ll frighten you with how much I want to kiss you.” 

Anne, however, was never frightened. She trusted Gilbert beyond even his understanding, and loved him just as much. To prove it, she mustered up the courage to wrap her arms around his shoulders. Gilbert swayed toward her, expression drunk off of his own tender affection. She rose herself to the balls of her feet and let her lips fall onto his. 

This kiss was different than other ones she’d seen it person. It moved with intensity, it made tangible her own desire, and nearly knocked the poor man off his feet. For once, Anne felt like every woman wanted - desired, powerful, cared for. 

“I’m not afraid,” she vowed against his lips. 

When she broke away, Gilbert leaned his face to the underside of her jaw so tentatively, it felt like butterfly wings were brushing against her. 

“Is this okay?” he whispered against her skin. His breath came hot against a sensitive spot on her neck and Anne caught a whimper in her throat.

“Yes,” she breathed. Before his lips landing on her skin, he wove his arms all the way around her waist until she was pressed firmly against him. When he kissed her throat, she tilted her chin up and let out a blissful laugh. “Very okay.” 

Gilbert had barely kissed a woman, let alone in his way. He’d only walked in on Bash kissing Mary like that once several years ago after they first got married, but he found the actual act of his different than he expected. Anne’s skin beneath his lips was soft than silk and smelled like soap. The more she reacted - hands weaving into his hair, sweet sighs leaving her lips - the more he relaxed and let his instincts lead him. 

It felt like he worshipped her for days, finding new spots around her that begged to be kissed. And when it was over, Anne turned him so his back was against the tree and she could return the favor. Return it she did, tasting the hollow of his throat and biting ever so gently into a spot that made him keen to her. After this particular display of affection, she stepped back.

“You probably think me very unladylike,” she murmured. 

Gilbert, who had his eyes closed and head pressed against the tree, looked down at her and shook his head. 

“Not at all, my love,” he exhaled with a forced laugh, trying to regain his balance. “That was devastating and wonderful and I look forward to similar occurrences in the very near future.” 

“But we should probably get those cans back to your house before Marilla wonders where I’ve gone off to.” 

Gilbert groaned and dropped his head onto her shoulder. He took her into his arms, eliciting a tempted sigh from the redhead pressed to his chest.

“Let’s stay like this for a few more minutes,” he suggested.

“Gil,” Anne protested.

“Hours then?” 

“Gil!” 

“Fine,” he lamented, pulling back and taking her hand. “Tomorrow let’s go to the beach before the water gets too cold.”

“I like the sound of that.” 

When they came back to the road and collected the milk cans, they were just in time for the Andrew’s family to drive by. On the surface, they were just friends again, two kindred spirits ambling through the sunset countryside. Gilbert tipped his hat to Mr. Andrews, all traces of his lovesickness gone. But Anne knew when he reached over and gave her hand a squeeze that it hadn’t gone away completely and it never would.

~End~

You never said I couldn’t do reverse fake dating! Let me know how you liked it! ♥ Thanks for the prompt, anon!

[lycorogue]

Marinette’s Song: Chapter 4

Read Chapter 1 Chapter 2  Chapter 3

UPDATE (2/15/20): You can also now read this story over on AO3, on FFN, or on DA.

Summary: Whenever Luka creates music it affects people. He can’t handle having to hide his music anymore, and so he goes to the Tom & Sabine Charms and Potions shop for some help. Can Marinette’s witchcraft allow Luka to finally share his music with the world? Witch and Mythological Magic AU

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 10,943 Words This Chapter: 1944

Status: Completed; 7 chapters

Disclaimer: I wanted to anchor Marinette’s magic in Wiccan as opposed to “Hollywood witchcraft”, but I’m Christian. I tried to do my research, but I also know I’m taking a lot of creative liberties. If you notice any glaring misrepresentation of Wiccan, please let me know.

“Luka?” Marinette's soothing voice snapped him alert. “Do you feel an energy surge whenever your power manifests?”

“No.” He did feel his skin slowly warm under Marinette's touch, though. And it crept up his arms. Once more his fingers twitched as if they were plucking guitar strings.

“Does the effect happen every time you hum?”

“Yes, even if I don't mean for it to.” He remembered the woman by The Liberty, and those kids crossing the street earlier. He hoped they were alright.

“Does the effect happen every time you whistle?”

“Only if I'm whistling a tune, if I just whistle to catch someone's attention it doesn't seem to do anything.”

Marinette nodded as she noted the distinction. “Does the effect happen every time you sing?”

“Yes.”

“Does the effect happen every time you play an instrument?”

“Yes.”

“Does it matter which instrument you play?”

“I assume so? I've only tried out a small variety of instruments. Mostly my guitar, bongos once or twice, Juleka's bass, my mom's keyboard a few times, and I think a harmonica once when I was little. It happened every time so far, though. Even drumming my pencil against my desk at school affects those around me.”

“You play guitar?” Marinette's voice was dreamy again. Luka wasn't sure if she was asking him as a friend, or as part of the inquiry into his power.

“Mmhmm,” he replied a bit coyly. “If we can figure out how to dampen my power, I'd love to play it for you sometime.”

For a fraction of a second, Marinette's hands tightened around Luka's, and a rosy blush raced across her cheeks.

“I'd thove lat- Love that!” She bolted up in her seat. “I'd love to hear you play guitar.”

Luka couldn't keep in his small chuckle, which only made Marinette's blush deepen.

“We need to figure out your power first though,” Marinette continued. Clearing her throat and rolling her shoulders – which caused Tikki to spread out in order to cling onto her perch until it settled again – Marinette was once more all business. “Luka, do you wish joy or harm to those around you while you are creating your music?”

Luka's face fell at the abrupt seriousness between them again. “I- Well, when I accidentally make people sad or angry I do purposefully sing something happy to try to cheer them up again. I don't mean to make others upset, though.”

“Do you wish others will feel the way you do when you play, sing, whistle, or hum?”

“I guess I might. I'm not very good with words, so I do hope to have others understand how I feel and what I mean though song. I don't ever intend for them to get angry or sad, though, just to know that I am.”

“You communicate better through song?”

“Yes. Very much so. I experience the world through song for the most part.”

“Meaning?”

“I dunno. I feel emotions through the songs playing in my head, and certain people make me think of certain music.”

“Certain people?”

“Like you.” He said it before he knew what was spilling out of his mouth. Didn't matter. He wanted her to know. Plus, the way her lips were currently puckered in surprise was too adorable for him to regret admitting it to her.

“Wow,” she breathed, and Luka wanted so much to kiss her.

“Does that bother you? That I hear a song when I think of you? I mean, I can't really help it. It's been playing ever since I met you.”

“It's been- wow, I mean, no! No it doesn't bother me. Why should it bother me? You can't help it. Right?”

“I really, truly can't, but I also kind of don't mind.”

Marinette swallowed hard, and let out a long, shaky breath. Her fingers twitched, tickling the tops of Luka's hands. Shaking her head to refocus, she took a deep breath to center herself, then looked up at Luka with professional seriousness again.

“Keep your hands together.” Marinette pressed Luka's hands together to emphasize her instruction, and then slid her own off them. Balling her hands up just above the table, Marinette rubbed her thumbs and forefingers together as if they were cricket legs. Her eyes bore into Luka's, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to hold contact or break away.

Slowly, cautiously, sheepishly, Marinette raised her hands up to Luka's face. “Keep your hands closed,” she repeated, and when he nodded she cupped his face in her hands. She pulled his head closer to her, and examined his eyes intently. Her face grew scarlet, and Luka's body burned, but they stayed in their intimate stare down.

A minute passed. Maybe two. Tikki's chirp finally broke the two teens apart.

“Tikki? Is there a customer?” The little frog shook her head, and nodded towards Luka. “Oh! Right. Sorry.” Marinette didn't even look up at him as she untwined his fingers. One by one, she plucked the stones off his palm, studied them by the candle light, and pressed them to her heart; eyes closed.

“Well?” Luka's hands were still cupped over the table, wondering what the next move would be; wanting Marinette's hands either around his or against his face again.

Marinette gently pressed on his fingertips, coaxing his hands back towards the table. She then pulled away before Luka could catch her in his grip; not that he would, despite wanting to desperately. They watched each other for a moment, as if waiting for a cue from the other, before Marinette stood and rummaged through another canvas drawer.

Sweeping the stones from the center of the table to the edge, Marinette replaced them with a carpenter nail, a stick about as long as her hand, a generic rough and light-gray stone, and a white birthday candle on a tiny stand there. Finally, she pulled out something wrapped in a white cotton cloth. As she unwrapped it, Luka realized it was a small, glass, elevated dish, like a flat sake cup. Adding the cup to the collection, Marinette scooped up the birthday candle, and lit it using one of the four larger candles. After returning the birthday candle to the table, she walked past Luka's left in order to fetch the ceramic bottle from the metal stand. Uncorking it, she slowly poured water into the glass cup, leaning over Luka's shoulder, and causing his heart to quicken. It didn't take long for Marinette to fill the cup, and with the smooth and flowing motion of a ballerina, she recorked the bottle, pivoted on her toes, and placed the container back on its stand.

Returning to her seat, Marinette gestured toward the items on the table with a wide sweeping motion of both hands. “Focus on all five. Ask the Guiding Spirits to advise you, then choose the item that speaks to you the most.”

Luka studied Marinette for a moment, instead of the objects. The glow of the string lights and candles bounced off her dark hair, and lit up her blue eyes in such an intoxicating way. The candle light flickering across her skin was like moonlight reflecting off the Seine. Even her hands were soft and fluid, like the sweetest song he ever heard.

“Luka?”

“Hmm?”

“You'll need to focus on the objects for it to work.” Even in the dim of the alcove, Marinette's cheeks visibly pinked as she pointed to the five items she laid out for Luka.

“Oh, right. Sorry.” Luka refocused. He wasn't there to spend time with Marinette, he was there to figure out how to control his power. His eyes kept drifting to the cup, but something about it felt off to him. “Am I allowed to touch the objects without officially selecting them?”

“Yes. You can briefly pick them up one at a time, and inspect them to see how they resonate with you. Do not hold two at a time, otherwise you might not know which one is calling.”

Careful not to spill any of the water, Luka raised the cup to his nose and sniffed at it. Something felt so familiar, but he also was sure it was best to not drink any of the liquid.

“This isn't tap water, correct?”

“It's from the Seine. We refresh our supply once a month.”

Luka nodded, then brushed the surface with the pad of his finger and watched the slow rippling before placing the cup back on the table. Marinette then focused on the remaining ripples as Luka picked up the stone.

It truly was a simple, basic chunk of rock. It was a little smaller than a bottle of nail polish, and had rough, sharp, uneven edges. Luka almost dismissed it right away, but then he noticed that the stone wasn't gray at all. Near the light of the candles, it was closer to a dark ivory, and the edges, while uneven in size and angle, were all fairly straight in a very satisfying way. One of the larger sides sloped in layers, as if steps were cut into it. Some of the stone was whiter than the others, and those spots were almost beautiful. Luka even liked the rough texture of the stone as he rolled it between his fingers.

He nearly told Marinette that the stone was his choice when he spotted the slender twig again. Placing the stone back on the table, he gingerly lifted the stick. It was from a chestnut tree; possibly one from the Place des Vosges. Little chestnut buds still clung to the branch, leaving intriguing bumps that Luka knew he had to delicately pet. The twig twisted - giving a small plateau for each chestnut bud - but still managed to stay relatively straight. The lumps the budding nuts left behind were beautiful in their imperfections, and Luka gently ran his hands across them. The bark was smooth, but had white speckling, like Marinette's freckles across her nose. It captured him, and wouldn't let go. The organized chaos of the stick reminded Luka of his mother, and the shy budding of the chestnuts made him think of Juleka. The sparkled bark played Marinette's song in his head once more, and the overall weight of the twig felt right in his hand.

“This one.” He held the twig of chestnut out to Marinette. “This is my choice.”

Marinette glanced back at the stone Luka had inspected, then at the cup of water, and finally up at him.

“Of course you're Wood.” Marinette chuckled as if she told herself a joke.

“Sorry?”

“No. Nothing. Sorry. Forget about it.” Marinette picked up the birthday candle and blew it out. She then poured the small sake cup of water into a basin she had tucked under the table. Drying the cup off real quick, she rewrapped it in the cloth, and placed the five elemental items back into their drawer on the bamboo stand. She also returned the pile of polished stones to their drawer, leaving only the candles and quartz in their circle along the edge of the table.

“Do you mind if I vanish in the back for a moment? I think I might have a solution for you.” Marinette rested a hand on Luka's shoulder as she pointed past the second set of dark curtains, and all he wanted to do was sing. Instead, he nodded and waved her on.

Read Chapter 5

@discoveringmiraculouswriters​

[miriamkperceptionblog]

Week 7

Independent study 

Come to your Senses: Investigate your own senses. Focus on the sense of smell, taste, hearing and touch (not vision). 

Currently, as Im writing this I am sitting in my cold, and damp Wellington flat. I am sitting on my couch in my lounge. I am going to investigate my senses from where I am sitting. ( I always sit here while I do my design work). I have never thought of my surrounding in any other way than “just my flat” and never thought much about my surroundings in a deep sensory way. Im excited. 

Smell -  

I can smell my flatmates cooking their vegan hello fresh nachos. Along with the dusty curtains to my left, and a hint of the flowery perfume I put on this morning, which has now gone stale. 

Taste - 

I can’t describe the taste in my mouth… its just my spit.. I haven’t eaten anything in over an hour now and Its hard to describe this taste because I am so used to it. 

Sound- 

I can hear my flatmates food sizzle and the crunch of their coin chip packet, along with the occasional banging of the spatular on the edge of the pan. I can hear the fridge open and close and the sticking together of the magnets. I can hear the eco of our wooden floor under their feet as-well as feeling the vibrations each step makes. 

The details of a touch/haptic/tactile experience-

Im currently holding my laptop on my lap. The metal was cold and hard at the beginning of my sit but is now warm and comfortable. I can feel the fan from my laptop spinning and vibrating my laptop against my thighs. My fingers on my keyboard feel a-little greasy and warn now. My track pad has a small blog of hardened glue on it and I can feel it every time I move my mouse. It feels sharp and hard.

2. Undertake some online research to learn about terms like proprioception, body awareness, haptic, equilibrioception, mechanoreception, balance, vibration. 

Proprioception/ noun. 

Perception or awareness of the position and movement of the body.

Proprioception refers to the body's ability to perceive its own position in space. Such as: Knowing whether feet are on soft grass or hard concrete, without looking (even while wearing shoes). Activities which strengthen you proprioception-crawling, push-ups, or squats. The sense though which we perceive the position and movement of our body, including our sense of equilibrium and balance, senses that depend on the notion of force.

Body awareness. 

Body awareness is the internal understanding of where the body is in space. Body awareness is highly influenced by proprioceptive processing, the sensory information one receives from the movement and force of muscles and joint groups.

A person's understanding of his or her own body parts and their capability of movement.

Haptic.

Haptic perception is the process of recognizing objects through touch. It involves a combination of somatosensory perception of patterns on the skin surface (e.g., edges, curvature, and texture) and proprioception of hand position and conformation. Haptics is the science and technology of transmitting and understanding information through touch. “haptic” means anything relating to the sense of touch. (It's derived from the Greek word for touch.) Haptic can be used in design! Such as being used to engage people's sense of touch to enhance the experience of interacting with onscreen interfaces. For example, when an Apple Pay transaction is confirmed, the system plays haptics in addition to providing visual and auditory feedback.

Equilibrioception/sense of balance. 

Is one of the physiological senses. It allows humans and animals to walk etc. without falling. Some animals are better in this than humans, for example allowing a cat (as a quadruped using its inner ear and tail) to walk on a thin fence. 

This is the same as when you pedal your bike. The speed of the tires on your bike allows it to balance. 

mechanoreception. 

A mechanoreceptor, also called mechanoceptor, is a sensory cell that responds to mechanical pressure or distortion. There are four main types of mechanoreceptors in glabrous, or hairless, mammalian skin: lamellar corpuscles (Pacinian corpuscles), tactile corpuscles (Meissner's corpuscles), Merkel nerve endings, and bulbous corpuscles. 

Balance/noun. 

a state of equilibrium or equipoise; equal distribution of weight, amount, etc. something used to produce equilibrium; counterpoise. mental steadiness or emotional stability; habit of calm behavior, judgment, etc. a state of bodily equilibrium: He lost his balance and fell down the stairs.

Vibration/noun.

Vibratory sensation is the sense of vibration, and may refer to: Vibration as a modality of cutaneous receptors (on the skin), referred to as pallesthesia. Hearing, which is sensation of air vibrations.

Select 1x and design an exercise and then do it. The subject can be either yourself or someone you know - record observations, your/their experience, what did you notice. 

Proprioception- brainstorm. 

Investigation 1 Proprioception

Sensory information you are receiving from your muscles, tendons, and ligaments. 

Using your muscles scenes to control your muscles to keep you upright. For examples-walking on sand. Your muscles are adapting to an environment where you aren’t walking on a firm service and your muscles send information to your brain to tell you the position of your ankles and your knees. 

(Blind people rely on proprioception sense quite a lot.) 

Everyday activity-turning the lights of in my room ( so I can’t see) relying on my Proprioception to find my door handle…or to walk to my bathroom. I will be replying on the information my brain is getting about where my arm is and where i’m walking. Proprioception is what will be giving me this information.  

Recorded observations, your/their experience, what did I notice. 

I asked my flatmate Ava to try find my doorknob while in the dark and blindfolded. She found this task easy as she knew which location/height my door handle was at but I observed the way she walked and put her arm up infant of her. This was interesting as she walked much slower and was unsure of herself. I noticed she was moving her feet in a way that she was almost using them to make sure she didn’t have anything in front of her such as a step. Her arms went up infant of her straight away as she was using them as a guide as-well. She demonstrated proprioception during this activity. 

Resource task. 

Browse through the online resources below, select 1 and be prepared to share your findings  in a group discussion for next week. 

Source - “Marres Maastricht - Education.” Marres, https://marres.org/en/education/. Accessed 15 Sept. 2020.

 “In The Invisible Collection art-lovers describe their favorite works of art. Originally created by Mediamatic Amsterdam, the project aimed to help the visually impaired to imagine works of art based on audio descriptions by art experts. In 2019, Marres developed a new version of The Invisible Collection, in which we started to collect stories about art (broadly defined) by non-art experts.”

I think this is an amazing project-this is based around the sense of hearing/sound. Art is meant to be enjoyed by all and when you can’t see it or feel it, It must make it extremely difficult for the visually impaired to enjoy art. Using this method is extremely beneficial and can create a sense of the artwork in the minds of visually impaired. By being able to hear how people describe the art people may be able to envision their on interpretation of the artwork.  I would defiantly recommend this source to anyone exploring sound as their sense as it gives an insight into how much people you can’t see rely on this sense. 

Key Module Resources. 

Source- Smith, Mark M. “The explosion of sensory history.”(2010): in the psychologist 23(10):860-863. 

Creative Practices

Locate creative producers ( at least 1 in your discipline area)  working with the senses or sense modalities.

“Why Graphic Design Should Engage More Than Just the Sense of Sight.” Eye on Design, 17 Apr. 2018, https://eyeondesign.aiga.org/why-graphic-design-should-engage-more-than-just-the-sense-of-sight/.

Kate McLean’s Sensory Maps

Kate McLean’s maps are visually stunning, peppered with colourful dots and morphing concentric lines. They could almost be galaxies. In actuality, they are Smell Maps, plotting data from various cities that visualises the distinctive smells from different neighbourhoods. Kate McLean generates this data by conducting “smell walks” throughout the cities she maps, asking participants to record odours and their location, intensity, description, and associations. Smells like “canal,” “leafy fresh rain,” and “laundry” are each given a colour and are indicated by dots on the maps. The distorted concentric rings depict the smell’s intensity and range as they're carried by wind, diluted by range, and mixed with neighbouring smells. By plotting her experiential data, Kate makes smell visual and geographical, and makes a case for what information designer Giorgia Lupi calls “soft data.” “Using humans as sensors is a method that aggregates personal insight”. 

[bhandarimarblekishangarh]

What are the different finishes of natural stone?

When it comes to choosing a natural stone for a project, there are several factors to consider, as we described in our previous post. Some of these factors include the appearance, the hardness, or the suitability of the stone for the project. After selecting a stone, the next step is to choose the finish. We know that this might be a bit confusing at first, so we would like to give a bit of insight into this matter.

The most common finishes for natural stone are polished, honed or satin, leathered/brushed and bush hammered. Examples of other finishes that are not so common are hydro finish and flamed surface finishes. You can see below the main differences between them.

Polished

Polished is one of the most common types of stone finishes. Polishing is usually applied to marble, travertine, and granite, as it enhances and highlights the natural color and pattern of the stone, making the surface brilliant and shiny. Homeowners who are looking for a glossy effect will find polished finish suits what they are after. A polished surface will certainly add a touch of beauty and glamour to your home, and it will enhance the ambiance where it is installed.

Polishing is achieved by repeated application of abrasive treatments. Through this process, different particle sizes become finer, giving the stone a brighter and lustrous appearance. The polished finish is a classic choice for bathroom wall cladding, floors, console tables, and walls. However, it is not recommended for outdoor areas because it is very slippery.

Honed or Satin

The honed finish provides a smooth, consistent, matt surface. It is contemporary and natural-looking. The satin finish is further achieved by finishing off the process using special fine abrasive pads following the honing process.

As a result of being honed, the shades might look lighter than a polished finish, however, the overall color and depth of the stone are preserved.

A honed finish is usually preferred for floors, stairs, hallways, and other areas with a lot of foot traffic. When a honed surface gets wet, it is less slippery than polished making it a great choice for flooring. Additionally, the honed finish also works well in areas with heavy traffic like countertops, bathrooms, wall coverings, and facades.

Another advantage is honed surfaces are more resistant to scratches and etching, and they go unnoticed for a longer period.

Leathered

The leather finish has become increasingly popular in recent years. The leather finish provides an undulating, soft, and slightly matte surface. This finish is achieved by brushing the slab with a range of brushes. As a result of this process, the surface looks less glossy than polished, but it also has more depth than a honed finish. The result is a refined and captivating stone that will add a touch of warmth and authenticity to any ambiance.

Leathering treatment closes the pores of the stone, which will make leathered stone more resistant to stains and less susceptible to damage over time. Acid etching on marble is much less obvious and visible on a leather finished surface. Leathered surfaces hide fingerprints, water spots, and smudges well. That’s why this finish is a great option for countertops, bathrooms, fireplaces, and also for outdoor applications. In our collection, you can find Calacatta do Brasil, Nero Assoluto, Taj Mahal, or Quarzite Nera with a leathered finish.

Brushed

If you are looking for a finish with slightly more texture and rustic feel, a brushed finish may be the perfect alternative. This effect is created by the stone being brushed by steel mechanical brushes under high pressure. This helps to enhance the natural color of the stone and add an extra bit of texture, leaving the surface rougher and more porous than honed or polished.

Brush finishes are often used in combination with a bush-hammered finish. A brushed finish can be an excellent choice as it maintains the practicalities of a honed finish, however, with a little more detail. This gives the stone an authentic and natural look. The brushed finish is the best option for shower flooring.

Bush-Hammered

This highly textured finish is achieved by the application of a hydraulic bush hammer to the surface. It is commonly used for external applications such as flooring, paving, thresholds, and walkways, as its slip resistance rating is greater than other finishes. A mechanical hammer hits the stone, creating uneven irregularities on the stone. A bush-hammered finish leaves the surface of the stone textured with small indentations, suitable for anywhere indoors and outdoors. The roughness may be varied by using different levels of bush hammering.

Overcoming the Challenges of Stone Cutting with Waterjet Technology

Flow Waterjet

In a recent survey on home buying preferences, one out of every four respondents said they preferred a custom-built home rather than a new home already built or existing home. There are many advantages to having a custom-built home: unique finishes, custom floor plan, superior quality, and getting exactly what you want.

But when your customer requests a unique design, you’re often faced with several challenges, especially when it comes to trendy materials for kitchen countertops, lobby entranceways, and other living spaces in the home. As an architect or home designer, you can use software programs to easily imagine all kinds of personalized elements for a custom home. But converting those designs from the computer screen to the tangible real world? That presents an entirely different set of problems during the construction phase.

Modern Kitchen

These challenges are magnified when the design involves the use of stone. Cutting granite, marble, slate, limestone, soapstone, travertine, engineered stone for intricate counter and floor designs can result in major manufacturing headaches.

Cutting stone: What could go wrong

Recent design trends look great when they jump off the page of the latest interior design magazine and the finished product can be extremely attractive – if the components are properly cut. Many contemporary kitchen and bathroom designs include waterfall countertops – a very different construction from traditional countertops which involve a single horizontal surface that ends at the edge of an island, peninsula, or bank of cabinets.

The waterfall concept, in contrast, drops down vertically from the sides creating a continuous flow to the floor. This design requires that you cut the top of the slab at a 45-degree angle from the edge and then glue the drop-down piece to give the impression of a thicker piece of marble down to the floor. This intricate design introduces an especially tricky cutting problem.

Additional cutting challenges comes when customers request the use of man-made rather than natural materials. Many of these manufactured materials are non-porous, naturally resistant to bacteria and mold, durable, and easy to maintain. That’s good news. The bad news is that these materials are extremely brittle and difficult to cut.

Sintered stone is another man-made material gaining in popularity. It is created by exposing minerals to extremely high temperatures and pressure, creating an incredibly strong and durable surface, resistant to heat, abrasions, and scratches. Again, all positive attributes for the end customer. But the manufacturing process to create this material introduces serious issues when it comes to cutting. The high amount of tension can cause the material to shatter when cutting with conventional bridge saws.

The move to these types of materials isn’t going away. So how are you going to address the resulting cutting challenges?

Waterjet to the rescue

Fortunately, there is a solution to working with difficult natural and man-made stone materials: waterjet cutting technology. Whether you’re cutting natural or engineered stone or other material for floors and counters, you can rely on the abrasive waterjet’s unique ability to cut intricate designs at high speed without breakage. This advanced technology is the key that enables you to bring these imaginative designs to life. Compared to traditional cutting tools and CNC machines, Waterjet cutting systems are easy to use, dramatically increase productivity, and reduce costs when working with stone, glass, and tile.

Flow – Dynamic Cutting Stone

There are several advantages waterjet has over traditional cutting tools when it comes to cutting stone or tile. No heat or surface stress introduced ensuring the stone or tile retains its original appearance and strength. Minimal kerfs improve material utilization, reduces costs, and increasing profits. Virtually no chipping on the edge even on thin materials. Reduced scrap and significant raw material savings. Low operating costs with long cutting nozzle life and light flexible tooling. Omni-directional cutting eliminates constant repositioning on the cutting bed. Minimal lateral and vertical forces eliminate the need for extensive parts clamping. Single-pass cutting for most materials. Net or near-net cutting reduces the need for hand finishing. Real-world results

Juan Trujillo, the owner of Atlanta Natural Stone, has experienced the benefits of waterjet technology first hand. He has been a Flow Waterjet customer for over two years and now has two units – Mach 2B and Mach 200. Before bringing in the waterjet systems he used bridge saws and performed tough cuts by hand. With the Flow waterjet units, Trujillo has been able to grow his business while keeping costs down. The company’s work involves the most high end, a million-dollar custom home market that requires high quality to meet the intricate, unique design requirements.

“We couldn’t do the work we do without the waterjet technology,” Trujillo said. “Our competitors can’t do the type of work we do because they don’t have waterjet systems. They come to me for their high quality, tough cutting needs.” The company employs eight people and brings in extra contract labor to help during peak demand periods. They are now able to do complicated work like waterfall counters two to three times faster than they could with conventional cutting tools. The raw material savings and increased productivity have been a boom to his business.

“Waterjet technology has been key to the success of my business,” said Trujillo. “If you want to take your business to the next level, you should invest in the waterjet.”

Added by expert and export team of Bhandari Marble World…….