#kinds from the slums one with a terrible sickness the other with an arm missing... the potential...

[abxsslights]

Friendly reminder that my main muse roster has two purple haired golden eyed murderers --

[istanleyff7]

TOTP, Episode Aerith, Scene 1-4

Final Fantasy VII Remake: Traces of Two Pasts Episode 2- Aerith Scenes 1 - 4

A Light Novel by Kazushige Nojima Translated by Stanley (@istanleyff7 on twitter)

Scene 1

Aerith Gainsborough was on Shinra Ferry No. 8, and like her friends, she was wearing a Shinra's military uniform. It was her first time on the sea, as well as on a ship. The ferry connecting Junon and Costa De Sol was unexpectedly lavish. Enticed by curiosity, she looked around the ferry. However, the wealthy passengers were not welcoming towards troopers. Driven away by the cold stares, she arrived at the bottom ferry's cargo hold. The goods and luggage were all over the place. Someone was already there.

"Hey, I heard this on the deck a while ago..."

It was Tifa Lockhart, clad in Shinra's equipment. One won't expect it based on her tender smile, but she's an excellent martial artist. She is a reliable companion, equipped with her unstoppable punches, diverse kicks and jumping power. It hasn't been long since they met. However, Aerith believed that the bonds that were fostered by overcoming critical situations were genuine.

"When you feel that you're becoming seasick, it seems that it's good to chat as a distraction."

"I see. Tifa, are you feeling sick?"

"Nahhh, I'm good."

"Me, too."

The conversation ended there. Soon after, Aerith noticed that Tifa wanted to speak. She's reserved at times.

"You wanna talk? Let's talk."

"I'd like to hear about you this time."

"Me?"

"I'm a good listener. You see, I am always doing so at the bar."

She straightened her posture and pretended to polish a glass.

"Hello, it's your first time here, isn't it. Where are you from?"

"Wow."

Aerith was in admiration.

"Do you live around here?"

"Nope. I live in the slums of Sector 5."

"I see. Sector 5 seems pretty lively too. Were you born there too?"

"Well...." Aerith hesitates to say. "It's probably hard to explain."

Tifa immediately sensed it. She had already spoken about her being an Ancient and about her being the last surviving one.

"Sorry, I've gone too far."

"Oh, not at all." Aerith denies it immediately.

"I was just a little taken back. There isn't anyone who says that they want to hear it, nor is there anyone I thought of telling. Well, you wanna hear it? You wanna hear it?"

"If it's alright with you."

"I'm good! I'm good!"

Scene 2

Ifalna, Aerith's mother, was the final pure-blooded descendant of the Ancients as both of her parents were Ancients. She was under the protection of Shinra. To collaborate with the various studies concerning the Ancients, she lived on the upper floors of the Shinra building for a long time. Except for having the freedom to go outside, she had a room that provided almost everything. Aerith lived with her mother, but she couldn't remember the day when she first entered that room. Her first memory was in that room too. As everyone around was adults, the only person she could call a friend was Ronnie, the son of Ifalna's caretaker, Mariel, who brought him along. He was two years older than her.

It was the year 1992. Aerith was seven years old. Her head was suddenly flooded with images. She saw not only landscapes and people that she had never seen before, but also the figures of animals and monsters too. Aerith's Ancient powers were awakened. The inexperienced Aerith could not only control these images, but she also could not ignore them. She painted on papers, painted on the walls and showed it to anyone who wanted to see them. She thought that by doing so, these mysterious "visions" would disappear.

Scene 3

"I understand now that up till then, I was a hostage, and to protect me, my mother had no choice but to obey Hojo. But because Hojo also knew that I inherited the powers of the Ancients, he was overjoyed. Because he discovered a successor, he started doing terrible things to my mother, which he hadn't done until then. And just like that, my mother's health began to break down..."

Scene 4

Because of Hojo and his fellow staff, Ifalna's “working” hours increased. She was made to work for Hojo's studies every day from morning till evening. She was weak every day, and she could not walk on her own. There were also times when Hojo's staff pushed her back into the room in a wheelchair. At that time, Fuzz Hicks appeared and was dressed in a lab coat. Out of all the staff that Aerith knew, Fuzz had the largest physique. His eyes, nose and mouth were huge too. He was a very trustworthy figure who easily carried Ifalna with his massive arms. 

When Fuzz came over, Ifalna begged him for medicine. She had a sad, sweet voice. Aerith did not say anything, but she did not like her mother whenever she made that kind of voice. She wanted her to be cured soon if she was ill.

“Fuzz, please…”

Aerith was almost sure that Fuzz knew it. He turned his back against the surveillance camera. He left a small bottle of medicine and a syringe, reminding her to keep it a secret from the other staff, and then he left. Ifalna used it on herself. Aerith could not see her mother sticking the needle in her arm, usually hiding in the sofa's shadow. 

Aerith has little memory of the calendar dates of events regarding her childhood. It was one night when she was seven years old. She snuggled under her mother's bed as usual. It was a habit she had since she knew she was being monitored. She covered herself entirely with a blanket.

"Aerith. Want to go on an adventure?" Ifalna whispered from the other side of the blanket.

“What will we be doing?” She had a longing and a fear towards the outside world.

"I miss it."

Aerith did not understand what her mother was feeling. However, she sensed that tears were mixed in with her voice. 

Aerith did not want to see her mother's face and got out from her blanket. Ifalna covered her face with her arm. The sleeves of her loose sleepwear were turned inside out. She had plenty of painful injection marks.

"If we head out, will you be okay, Mummy? You’re not going to take any more injections?"

“Yes. I think that will be so.”

"Well, let's go. But, I wonder if we can do it. The cameras are watching."

"Fuzz will help us out."

"Why will Fuzz help us out?"

There was a brief pause.

"Because he's a good person"

↞↠

Ifalna was taken out of the room as usual and returned in the evening. Fuzz was pushing the wheelchair.

"Yo Aerith," said Fuzz with his deep voice.

"The preparations are in order. I have prepared a secret house in the Sector 3 slums. You will also have a room. It's small, but we'll be leaving here."

He only told her that, and he left the room.

The emergency bell rang in the morning. Hurried by Ifalna, Aerith changed her clothes. It was clothes she had never seen before.

"Fuzz prepared these for us," Ifalna informed as she also wore her new clothes.

"Let's go."

"We will be seen."

"Don’t think like that."

Ifalna opened the door.

"It can't be. The lock is open. Why?"

The mother did not reply, took a deep breath and dashed out to the corridor. There was not a single person there. The bell signalling a crisis rang into their ears. 

"Experimental monsters are on the loose. Staff from the Science Department evacuate to a safe location," the public announcement monotonously announced.

"That's rough."

Aerith was frightened. However, Ifalna ascertained the direction and walked. She was hobbling. Her condition was good only when she opened the door. Aerith took her hand and kept up with her.

They turned at the first corner of the corridor. No staff were seen, and there were also no signs of wandering monsters. Ifalna rushed over to a wagon carrying cleaning tools; a large metal box attached with tiny wheels, with a long brush and mop, stuck into it. She slid her hand on the side of the wagon, and a part slid open. It was empty. There were supposed to be various cleaning agents and tools in there. The shelves and dividers were also removed. 

"We will be hiding in here. I'll head in first."

Ifalna bent her body and slipped into the box.

"Come, Aerith."

Invited by her voice, Aerith went inside. Ifalna pulled her knees towards herself to make space for her daughter. The petite Aerith quickly got in.

"We are going to be here for some time, so find yourself a comfortable position."

"Okay. This position is good."

"Got it."

After Ifalna closed the door, the wagon became pitch black. The public announcement remained unchanged and announced the experimental monsters’ escape. Before long, there was an indication that someone was nearby. The wagon vibrated lightly.

"It's me."

"I'm leaving it to you, Fuzz."

"We'll get going."

The wagon started to run.

"No matter what happens, do not make any noise."

"I'll be making a turn."

"It's an elevator. We will be transferring elevators several times."

From time to time, Fuzz could be heard. While in the elevator, Aerith became nauseous.

"Mummy, I don't feel good."

"It will be over soon."

When the free-falling feeling with the wagon was over, it started running again. As Fuzz mentioned, he will be transferring elevators several times.

"We're in a parking lot."

A different and unpleasant odour, unlike before, crept into the wagon.

"I'll be stopping soon. There'll be a truck, so hurry up and hop onto its cargo bed. I'll assist the both of you."

There was likely a change in the ground surface. A rattling sound came out from the wagon as it ran. The wagon soon stopped, and the door came open.

"Well then, hurry on."

Aerith was pulled out by the large hand that went into the wagon. He held Aerith up and placed her on the cargo bed as though she was an object.

"Move inside," Fuzz said as he also lightly placed Ifalna on the cargo bed.

"There are a few wooden crates. The innermost one is empty, so hide in it. Don't forget to close the lid. My cousin will be driving the truck. After arriving at the train station, the crate will be loaded onto the freight carrier. The cargo will eventually arrive at the Sector 4 slums station, so wait for me there."

"In the box?" Ifalna asked.

"Nope. I think you both will end up waiting for me somewhere at the station. I have a friend there, so follow her instructions. I've written the details in this letter," Fuzz said as he folded the paper and passed it to Ifalna.

"Where are you going, Fuzz?" Aerith asked.

"I'm heading back up to pretend to search for the both of you. If I get caught, it's going to cost me more than my neck."

The car horn sounded, and feelings of anxiety rushed in.

"Well, later then. There is food and water in the crate."

"How long do we have to wait for you to come?"

"At worst, till the last train," Fuzz said as he kissed the back of Ifalna's hand. Aerith was surprised and looked at Fuzz and her mother one after another.

"Fuzz, thank you."

The truck moved off before Ifalna could finish her words.

↞↠

The mother and daughter crawled on all fours on the swaying cargo bed and moved to the back. There were five wooden crates, one size larger than the cleaning tool wagon. After Ifalna found the empty box, she opened the lid and placed Aerith inside.

"Smelly..."

After leaving the room, they smelled various odours, but this was unbearable.

"Endure endure. We'll get used to it soon," Ifalna uttered as she also entered the crate. 

Aerith did not overlook the frown on Ifalna's face.

"You think it stinks too, Mummy!"

Ifalna stuck out her tongue, and after gazing at each other, they laughed.

Aerith noticed the paper bag at the bottom of the crate. There was also a portable torchlight, a pouch of dried fruits and nuts, a hard bread and a water bottle when she looked inside it. There was a thin envelope, so she peeked inside and found that there was money in it.

"I have to close the lid."

After struggling to close the lid, the crate went pitch black.

"Next, uh ... let's read the letter."

In the dark, there was a dry sound of Ifalna unfolding the paper.

"Aerith, may you shine at this for me?"

"Okay."

She had difficulty operating it, but Aerith found the switch and turned on the torchlight. In the cutout of the darkness, her mother's pale face was there, and sweat was oozing out from her forehead.

"Mummy, are you alright?"

"I'll be reading it, so remember this too, Aerith."

It seems that she does not intend to reply to her question.

"Okay."

“The plate on which the Shinra Building is built and the slums are connected by rail. This crate will be carried into the freight train as it is. After the train runs for a while, the inside of the crate will glow red, and it will be glowing several times. But you don't have to worry about it, and do not mind it."

“What does this mean?”

"Fuzz... He thinks I don't know anything, and he is right about that."

"I'm scared."

"He wrote not to worry, let's believe him."

"Okay..."

"After a while, you will realise that the railroad tracks will be running on ground level rather than at a descent. You will soon hear the train stoppage announcement. Once you hear it, get out of the box. Next, stand by the doorway at the width of the carriage. The last stop is the Sector 4 Slums Station. The door will open when you arrive. Give the money in the envelope to the person who opened the door. It's a reward. Rest assured that she is a friend of mine, and follow her instructions and wait until I pick you both up..."

Ifalna violently coughed before she could read it to the end. It was a long-lasting cough. She turned her head away and covered her mouth with her arm.

"The light... turn it off..." Ifalna said so and violently coughed again.

↞↠

The truck eventually came to a stop. The truck bed shook, along with the rattling sound of the cargo hitting each other. They sensed people in the vicinity. The unloading began. The handling work was rough, and the crate was even thrown down to its' side.The mother and child endured through the shaking and pain in the crate. Ifalna embraced Aerith in her arms and held her daughter's leaking voice with her palm. 

"We got to press on."

Silence came. They were relieved in that brief moment, then the loading operation on the freight train started.

"This is going to the Sector 4 Slums."

After hearing the muffled voice of a man, the box started to move. Again, the crate was handled recklessly. They used their hands, feet, and back to anchor their bodies down and clenched their teeth.

Shortly after that, the loading came to an end. There was a heavy, loud sound as the freight car door closed. After the train started running, it began to make a periodically repeating rattling noise. Eventually, the rhythmic sound becomes pleasant. Aerith dozed off and was half asleep. She woke up suddenly and looked at her mother's face. Ifalna's profile, dimly lit by the torch that was left on, was as beautiful as usual. In her line of sight, she noticed Ifalna smiling. Aerith was relieved, and she closed her eyes again. She finally slept.

In her dream, Aerith was painting.

When she woke up, Ifalna was coughing violently again.

"Are you alright, Mummy?"

"Yup... Give me a moment," 

Her voice got hoarse. Soon after adjusting her breathing —

"It looks like the descent stopped some time ago. The red lights are over too, so perhaps we'll be arriving soon?

"Ehhhh!? I wanted to see the red lights!"

"You said you were scared of it."

Ifalna laughed.

"I want to see it even if I'm scared."

At that moment, the inside of the crate was tainted red. The two were surprised and looked at each other.

"It turned red!"

"Yup! It turned red."

"I wasn't scared at all."

"Hey, Aerith. Let's eat something. We don't know when we'll be able to eat next."

Ifalna tore up the bread in the bag into pieces, handed it to Aerith, and ripped open the pouch of dried fruits.

"I wonder if this is like a picnic."

Aerith stuck the bread on her cheek.

"What's a picnic?" Ifalna asked. 

After Aerith swallowed the bread —

"I heard from Ronnie. People would take along food, head out, walk a lot and eat. It seems that they don't eat anything sometimes. But Ronnie has never been to one before."

"Hmm. I really don't know, but walking seems to be fun."

Under the dim light shone from the portable torchlight placed on the floor, Ifalna offered her the remaining bread.

"Aren't you eating, Mummy?"

"I've already eaten. I ate it while you were sleeping with your mouth open."

She thought it was a lie. However, Aerith inflated her cheeks and showed her anger.

The train slowed down, and Ifalna coughed violently again.  She shook her shoulders violently to hold down the cough.

"I'm really okay."

"Alright."

Aerith felt even more worried as she was reminded again that her mother was ok.

"Next station,... Four Slums. Sector Fo... lums," a muffled voice could be heard. It's the train stoppage announcement.

"Let's get out of the crate, shall we?"

They flipped the lid up. Ifalna comes out first and pulls Aerith up. Although the train was slowing down, the train carriage was rattling and shaking. 

"This is fun!"

Aerith planted both her feet down to keep her balance. Ifalna held on to the crate to support herself.

“Aerith”

“Yup.”

“Never forget that feeling, okay?”

“Which feeling?”

“The feeling that you’ll enjoy anything.”

“Hmmm, I understand.”

“Hey hey, Aerith, look at this.” Ifalna pointed to the label on the crate which they were in.

"What's written on it?"

"From Shinra Company to Shinra Company. To be stored at Sector 4 Station. Dangerous goods. It is strictly prohibited to open it en-route..."

"We are dangerous goods?"

"That's rude."

Ifalna laughed, and the train slowed down again to a stop. Aerith lost her balance and clung to her mother as she almost fell over. 

"Stay silent for a moment, Aerith. Leave this to me."

She looked up at her mother to see what she meant. She wasn't smiling anymore.

It was a young woman who opened the door. She had a pouty face and wore loose-fitting overalls. Her whole body was covered in dirt.

"Are you a friend of Fuzz?" Ifalna asked.

She nodded her head.

"Here you go. It's the reward."

Ifalna held out the envelope.

"I told him I didn't need it..."

“But…”

In the end, the lady snatched the envelope and pushed it into her back pocket.

"Get off. Quickly."

The carriage floor was well above the ground, a height that anyone would need help with. However, the lady was keeping watch of the surrounding people.

"Okay. I'll head down first."

Ifalna disappeared from Aerith's line of sight as she had jumped off. A painful moan could be heard.

"Mummy!"

"Hurry up," the lady's sharp voice pierced through their ears.

Ifalna apologised as she stood up, looking back at Aerith and reached out to her with both hands. Aerith was worried whether the woman in dirty clothing would get angry again, so she hurriedly jumped on her mother's body.That force caused Ifalna to stumble. She almost fell over while holding onto Aerith but managed to get her balance after taking a few steps.

"It's already chaotic at the top. Hide in the container yard until Fuzz picks you up," The woman pointed to a place stacked up with a lot of containers. 

"When the sun sets, consignees will enter and exit the yard, so don't be discovered. That would be a pain."

"How much longer until the sun goes down?" Ifalna asked.

"In about four hours."

The woman tried to leave, but Ifalna called out to stop her and asked, "Which direction is Sector 3 in?"

The woman pointed out the direction with her chin, and as though she was escaping from them, she headed back to work.

"Mummy, let's hide quickly?"

"Yup. Let's do so."

The woman looked back once she reached the end of the train carriage and pointed towards the container yard. She was probably telling them to head over quickly.

"Aerith."

Ifalna held out her hand.

"From here on out, it's a real adventure. Let's go."

Ifalna held Aerith's hand.

"Mummy, why is your hand hot?"

"It's because I'm excited."

Ifalna laughed, and they started walking towards the rear of the carriage they had just got off. The carriage they were riding on was at the end. When they went around the carriage and crossed over the rail, they could see the station building. The woman from earlier disappeared into the station building. They saw some others in uniforms that looked like railway workers.

"Mummy, where are we going!?"

Aerith was extremely worried. However, her mother did not say a word. Instead, she held her hand firmly and started walking. They headed towards the wire mesh fence that was directly in front of them. There were a lot of people coming and going on the road over there.

"Mum!?"

"Let's climb over this fence."

"Ehhhh?"

The fence was about two metres tall.

"I can't."

"But we have to. Otherwise the adventure will be over."

In the end, they clung to the fence.

"Well, let's have fun!" Ifalna uttered.

Passers-by across the wired fence saw them, but nobody stopped walking.

"First, grab a high spot on the wired fence with both hands, and then put the toes of your left foot into the wired fence."

"Ohhh."

Aerith was confused, but she managed to be in the same position as her mother.

“Next, apply some strength to your hands and put your right toe into the fence.”

“Okay.”

"Once you can do that, move your right hand to grab the fence higher up. Then, also move your left hand to grab at the same height."

"Ah, I got it! Next will be my legs."

Aerith felt that she understood how to climb the wired fence.

"Mummy, look!"

While making a rattling noise, she climbed the fence in a blink of an eye.

"Nicely done, Aerith. Now from there, climb over."

"Hey! Get down from there!" came a piercing, angry voice.

Aerith saw a station employee running over.

"Mummy!"

Ifalna saw the station employee.

"Aerith, quickly get going!"

"You too, Mummy!"

Ifalna started climbing the wired fence. She was frustratingly slow.

"Hey!"

The station employee was getting close. The scene gathered the eyes of passers-by. At that moment...

"Hey! Hurry up!"

They looked over. A tall adult male was reaching out his hand. Aerith was confused. He was probably an acquaintance of her mother, but that should not be the case.

"Hey! Let's go!"

Before Aerith knew it, Ifalna got up to the same height and got over the fence. The station staff extended his hand out, but he barely could not reach her. Finally, Ifalna got over to the other side, reached out and grabbed the chest area of Aerith's clothes and pulled firmly. Aerith could not help but lose her balance and almost fell headfirst outwards of the fence. However, a pair of solid hands supported Aerith.

"You alright?" the man asked Ifalna while lowering Aerith to the ground. 

However, Ifalna was coughing harshly and could not answer.

"Riding without a ticket is a serious crime!"

The station employee also started to climb the fence.

"It’s a serious crime which too many people commit, and you can't catch those culprits."

"Thank... you," Ifalna finally answered.

"You're welcome."

The man then struck the fingers of the station employee, who was grabbing the wired fence, with his fist. The station staff screamed away from the wired fence.

"Shinra bastard, damn y'all!"

After hailing abuse at the station employee, the man walked away as if nothing had happened. The station employee was panting heavily and glared at the man.

"Which direction is Sector 3 in?" Ifalna abruptly asked the station employee.

Not only the station employee but Aerith was also surprised at this.

"Who would teach you!" the station employee's angry voice froze Aerith's legs.

"Very well. Pardon us for our rudeness." Ifalna calmly apologised to the station employee 

She then took Aerith's hand and left the station. When they looked back, the station employee was glaring at them. However, he was soon hidden in the flow of passers-by.

"Ahhh, that was heart-wrenching."

Ifalna coughed. When Aerith looked up, she saw the radiant face of her mother.

↞↠

There was no sign of anyone chasing them. The mother and daughter were moving away from the Sector Four Slums Station. Looking up, they could see the underside of the steel city. They were overwhelmed by the orderly combination of the steel-framed plate. Many people lived on it, there was the Shinra Building, and they were way high up on it. The scale was too large for Aerith to picture it well.

"Aerith, if you just look up, you'll fall."

"Okay."

Indeed,  none of the surrounding commuters were looking up. It's a natural sight for slum dwellers. From time to time, Aerith could hear mysterious noises. She could also hear angry voices. And as expected, nobody cares.

"Mummy, who was the person that helped us at the station?"

"I think he's someone who hates Shinra. It seems that there are many of these kinds of people in the slums."

"How do you know about the slum, Mummy?"

"I asked a lot of people. For a day like this."

"Even on how to climb a wired fence?"

"Yup. If Professor Hojo weren't around, everyone would talk to me a lot."

"Actually, everyone is a nice person."

"I wonder. Everyone sympathised and cared for me, but no one helped me out. The truly good people are those that not only say that they'll help but also act on it."

"I wonder what Fuzz is doing."

Aerith waited for a while, but her mother didn't answer.

"Hey, Aerith, I want to rest for a bit. Shall we go over there?"

Ifalna pointed towards a small plaza in front of them. They saw several benches.

↞↠ You’re on page 24/142 of Aerith’s segment of the Light Novel.  Next Scenes: Scenes 5-9 Back to Content Page (click/tap here)

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[lassieposting]

If you’re still doing the getting together ask could I request Saracen and Dexter???

I’m bored, so. Send me two (or more) characters for a headcanon on how I’d have them get together

god so. dexter can't stand saracen when they first meet.

like, dex is the second one in after erskine. So when he becomes one of what will eventually be the dead men, it's the original three - skulduggery, ghastly and hopeless - plus ravel. Dex is the youngest by a mile at 17 - he lies about his age to enlist - but he's scrappy and streetwise and has a relatively sensible head on his shoulders, so he's doing well as a soldier. Skulduggery was the one he was really itching to meet - the youngest general in 300 years, the miracle soldier, the living skeleton - but it's ghastly who actually brings him in, ghastly who saw a scared kid with the potential to be a warrior, ghastly who tried to convince him to go home and offered to teach him to box when he refused, ghastly who introduced him to the others.

Skulduggery does not have flames for eyes, does not glow with holy light and, as far as dexter can tell, does not have any extra special fancy magic nobody has ever seen before. A little bit of dexter is disappointed, but skulduggery is still the most intimidating person he's ever met - he only says four words to dexter the first time they meet: "You're in my way." - but dexter gets the impression that this is someone to whom bloody murder comes as naturally as blinking. His induction into the group is a gruelling three week mission to the scottish highlands, which he's fairly sure is supposed to put him off, but it doesn't.

And things go great, until saracen turns up.

Now, dexter has never really had much to do with The Aristos™ before, unless you count pickpocketing them and legging it with their valuables. But he knows that technically, both skulduggery and erskine come from very wealthy, landed families, and hes spent plenty of time with them, so he thinks he knows how rich people work. and like...yes, ravel has a tendency to be a bit stuffy and pompous, but the fact of the matter is that they've both spent over a century slumming it in the army - skug, especially, likes to lead from the front and lives the same way his men do. They've lost a lot of the inherent prejudices and snobbery that comes with being nobility in the 1700s. So nothing about either of them prepares him for saracen rue.

Saracen is your quintessential 1700s rich boy. He bought his commission - as opposed to skug, who enlisted with ghastly and came up through the ranks - and he arrives to meet with skug and corrival wearing a spotless uniform like a toy soldier in a shop window. His tent is obnoxiously elaborate, he has a wagon and horse to store it and his belongings, and the first thing he does is hand dex his bags like he expects him to set the tent up for him. Dexter looks at this gorgeous, glamorous man and then at skug - who wears battered leathers and gets into fistfights and sleeps outdoors with the rest of them without complaining, and wonders how on earth these two people came from the same sort of family

And - it's not that saracen intends to be offensive at all. He's very much attracted to dexter and wants him to like him. He's very jovial and friendly and he even makes skug laugh on occasion, which is a superpower in and of itself in the post-death, pre-vile days. But he's also kind of entitled and tends to be a bit superior, and he's one of those people who just...talk, and don't necessarily think too much about how what they say will sound before saying it.

For example: the case of the lost necklace. As a young boy, Dexter pickpocketed a locket from a distracted young nobleman, and gifted it to his mother, so she could feel like a lady. When he signed up to fight, his mother gave him the locket to wear and made him promise to bring it back to her when the war was over. During one mission Dexter ends up spending the night with saracen in his stupid fancy tent, and when they're postcoitally lazing, saracen mentions that he recognises the locket, a gift he'd bought for his sister - he knows the inscription written inside. Dexter is mortified, but saracen shrugs it off and casually reveals that when he'd realised it was gone, he'd simply commissioned another one. "You can keep it," he says magnanimously, before making a very off-colour joke about how after that performance, dexter certainly earned it. Dex, who has had to sell sex a few times to put food in his siblings' mouths, does not take this well, and things are complicated for a while - he's frosty, but saracen seems to like that, and they keep ending up in bed together and then bickering and ignoring each other and then repeating the cycle.

They have moments of tenderness, though - occasional at first, and then more often as the years go by. Saracen teaches Dexter to read and write, and learns how to scrap and play knucklebones in return. They drink together and tend to each other's wounds and try to figure out what the fuck is going on between skug and ghastly together, unaware that skug and ghastly are doing the same about them. Saracen dresses Dexter up in his fancy clothes and teaches him to walk and talk and dance like a gentleman, both of them howling with laughter the whole time, and then strips the fancy clothes off him and tells him he prefers him without them. They trade stories, and slights, and sweet nothings, amd over the years they become...something to one another.

And then there's Siberia, the mission to assassinate a man so terrible his own people called him "the butcher". Something goes wrong, they're forced to scatter, and when they meet back up at the rendezvous point, they're a man down. Saracen is missing.

Dexter is absolutely frozen with panic, and he doesn't know why. Skulduggery handles it with the same cool, detached competency he always has in a crisis, and the others seem to take their lead from him, but all dexter can think of is saracen, captured and injured and terrified, and how they've all heard that nobody survives the butcher's interrogations for more than 48 hours. The teleporter arrives to take them home, and they refuse to go, and somehow dexter stumbles through the next three days of searching for saracen in a blind fucking haze of fear, sleepless and sick to his stomach, chewing his nails down to the quick.

It's saracen who finds them, in the end, limping towards them sporting little more than some gnarly bruises, missing his jacket and wearing someone else's trousers. Dexter dives on him as soon as he's within arm's reach and they go down in the snow and he's crying like a child and as soon as they're done kissing he's smacking saracen in the chest, suddenly furious, snarling, "never do that to me again! Never do that to me again!" right up until skulduggery gets hold of him under the armpits and drags him off. That night, after the story of saracen's incredible escape has been told and retold and expanded with each telling, dexter tries to tell saracen how worried he's been, how scared he was, how he thought they might never see each other again. But he cant find the words, and he keeps stopping and starting and getting frustrated

And in the end, when it's clear dex isn't really getting anywhere with this, saracen puts his head back down in dexter's lap, shuts his eyes and says, "ah, shush. I love you too."

And they leave it at that

[border-spam]

Regarding ur pain snippet, would Troy feel comfortable venting around Sei? And if yes, how would they handle it??

Troy doesn’t feel comfortable venting about it with anyone. He’s spent his entire life trying to not be pitied while stumbling in the shadow of Tyreen’s blinding light, demanding perfection from himself to hide physical weaknesses and chronic illness from the greedy eyes of the billions of online followers who obsess over the twin’s every recorded breath.

But if you know God King Calypso well enough, if you’re close enough to him?

There are gentle ways to reassure Father Troy it’s safe to tell you the truth.

Sei and Troy are very close. 

They weren’t originally, it was actually Tyreen who was far more in tune with Seifa in those first couple of months together, back when the twins were recovering on her ship after their first failed attempt at surviving on Pandora.

Ty was engaging, a bubbly young woman full of endearing chattiness and interested in everything Sei did. A hundred questions an hour as she followed Sei around the ship like, what are sponsorships? How do you get marks to keep their eye on you and not be distracted by competition? How do you move to make them hungry for your body? How do you know when you’ve gone too far? How do you read the room? How do you - 

Tyreen had a million hows and a mouth that never seemed to need to rest, but Troy was silent. He had his reasons... he didn’t want to be there after all. 

Pandora had been cruel to them both from the moment their worn soles crunched into its acrid dust, but it had hurt Troy. Really, it had almost killed him.

He’d been left sick, uncomfortable in his own stretched skin, and wary of anyone who was other - which meant Seifa. Thinking back on it, she had been pretty insulted by how he’d acted in the first few weeks in her home, before she understood.

Tyreen on the other hand was thankful for her. She was a font of laughter and energy, flitting about the ship as her new friend worked and attempting to “help her” in thanks for the hospitality Sei had shown them, as if hindering her chores with constant interruptions was somehow going to pay her back for taking them in, but Troy? He was just... there. 

A looming, gangly shape standing awkwardly in corners. Rudely quiet, only proving he wasn’t mute through crackly whispers to his twin that would fall silent when Seifa would approach. A nervous, cagey giant of a child who came across as both irritated and terrified by Sei, till he’d finally talked, and he’d explained everything.

Tyreen had been the one who filled the ship with laughter in those first 6 months, but Troy had been the one to tell her the truth of things. 

They settled as companions, slowly.

By the time Seifa had accepted the twin's request to join their management staff in the early growth of the COV and had returned to Pandora, the friendship between the three was easy. 

Tyreen was still the focus of all attention mind you, it was still her who'd control the conversations and limelight when they'd meet each week in the "God Twin's" shared cloister to relax together in dropping their charades and becoming human again for a few hours.

Troy was happy just to sit between the women and smile as they eased into their drinks and each other's company on those nights. It was enough for him to simply exist next to people who liked his presence. There was warmth in those times, Sei's snorting laughter cracking a smile across his face he could never quite hide as she'd lean against the weight of his side, Ty insisting they watch as she theatrically reenacted how the day's encounter with off-world investors had gone. Never well for them, but always hilariously in her favor.

As the months turned to a year though, Tyreen just slowly stopped turning up.

They never really noticed as it happened, it was subtle, one missed night a month, then 2, then 3... It became Sei and Troy instead of Sei and the Twins.

The conversations would turn a little gentler without Tyreen's razor sharp energy to infect them, and they’d sit side by side, sharing snippets of each other's pasts, their hopes, and the things they both wanted from this newborn cult. Regrets sometimes, if the atmosphere was right.

The cloister slowly started to feel empty with just two people, and they knew deep down that Tyreen was unlikely to start joining again - she was far too busy with her God Queen persona and heaving fanbase to have the time to waste doing fuck all with close friends. The high walls and open space decor of the twin's shared quarters started feeling cold without her electricity, so they shifted to his ship instead. Troy's Sanctum.

She'd still turn up every so often, a couple of months of no appearances and then that crystalline laughter would ring through his quarters and they'd turn to raise a glass at the holy Vault Mother as she kicked off her boots with gusto and grabbed a seat, but eventually, that stopped too, and for quite a long time it was just Troy and Seifa on those nights, together in warm comfort.

A friendship that had bloomed into the easy, open kind where silence didn't mean awkwardness, where you could sit arm against arm and breath out the stresses of titles, and Godhood, and the crushing weight of responsibilities you never really asked for or wanted, and just... be. Just exist next to the reassuring presence of someone who never wanted more from you than what you could honestly give, because they knew who you really were, deep in your core.

It was Jak-Knife who joined next.

Troy's bodyguard had stood stoically outside his Sanctum's doors so many times that they’d become part of the evening, nodding at the Mechanicum's Saint as Seifa would arrive. Return her wink and knowing chuckle as they'd step to the side for her. It made sense they'd eventually find their way inside at his welcome, and the shared laughter in his home grew with their gruff warmth and open heart.

It was Ven, after.

The Oracle was impossible to avoid in general, he was a grandstanding assault on the senses with charisma almost as flamboyant as his dress sense, but the longer anyone spent around Ven, the easier it was to truly appreciate his company for what it really was. Someone who genuinely liked you for who you were, and not what his unique insight told him you could provide him in the future.

Troy had always had a soft spot for the gaudy soothsayer. Personal reasons maybe, he was the only one who knew what Ven had signed his life away to the COV in return for after all, and maybe that was why when Ven began to fill Sanctum with terrible stories and obvious lies about the beautiful people who fawned over him on benders in the Holy City's slums, it didn't take long before his delicate brother Eli joined them too. 

Seifa saw the connection even if the other's didn't, Eli's joint braces and medical equipment, the sadness in Troy's glances. Physical weakness, unashamed from someone so strong in character. She saw how Troy looked at the other man, the fleeting respect in those ice-blue eyes. The shame.

They became a unit in the end, Jk, Ven, Eli, Seifa, and their broken God King, a rickety family existing inside the guts of a monstrous one as the COV surrounded and spread through their lives with every passing day its grip across Pandora tightened.

But Seifa and Troy are very close.

They know each other, inside and out. They've shared their failures, illnesses, rages and tears. They are the keeper of each other's years of secrets. That he's so sick so often, that her right eye is practically blind, that he wishes he wasn't what he's turned into, that they are both so desperately lonely.

She knows how to manipulate him into being honest about the painful reality he carries in a body that's never really functioned well, that's gnawed at inside by half of a power no one understands enough to try and heal.

She perfected it by watching the other people who care about him.

JK, huffing theatrically as they eye an exhausted Troy's shaky hand as he forces himself to continue working, complaining that they are hungry, that he may be a workhorse but they need to rest, then chuckling at his blustery ego as he mocks them and takes the out.

Ven and his little white lies, his warnings that Troy needs to stop pouring over the latest viewer statistics and take a break, because he "got glances" at bad outcomes if they weren't left till later. The reassurances that everything will be fine and things will turn out better if he stops for the night.

Eli, explaining how the latest medication course Troy's medical team recommended really helped with the tension pull in his shoulders from his spinal issues, chatting in surprising detail about how relieving it's been, what dosage he's been taking...

Troy will not talk about his chronic issues with anyone, because he is terrified of appearing weak. She doesn't know why for definite, but she can guess, and is pretty sure it's related to his childhood. From the snippets he's given her, the emotionless monotone of his voice when he speaks about his father, well, she has hunches. 

Neither of the twins were happy as children, neither of them talk about "home" with even a vague sparkle of joy in their dead eyes. But Troy, he shies away from it, like there is something he's ashamed of, or the lingering ghost of something that haunted his early years and follows him still.

Troy is terrified of being pitied, because he so desperately wants to be seen as reliable. He wants to be strong. He wants to be useful.

So to get him to open up? You need to ask for his help.

Sei is a clever woman, and Troy is a lost, broken man who is so easy to wrap around her finger that sometimes she wonders at times if it's intentional.

When she sees him flagging, when his skin is a little lighter than normal, the dark under his eyes deeper, she'll play the damsel. She'll let him be the knight in shining armour that the little boy in him so clearly wishes it could have grown into. Sei will gasp gently when they are alone in his ship on these nights, pinch her lip between her teeth as she slowly rotates her wrist and stares sadly at the tremor that runs through it. She'll act it out, knowing he's watching, and wait for him to take the bait.

He always does - he can't help it. He'll always try and help her even when he's sick or exhausted. He'll always approach and ask if she's ok even if a migraine is rendering him barely able to stand.. because that's who he is. That’s the real Troy DeLeon.

She'll sit on the plush edge of the recessed couch in the floor of his Sanctum, and wait for him to shakily lower his towering body to the cushioned floor in front of her, before he gently takes her wrist in a hand that could easily crush it.

She'll wince, flutter her eyelashes with a gasp, and nod along to his muttered questions as he turns it so carefully, crankily asking when it last acted up, why hasn't she seen the specialist he contacted months ago, why she’s not taken time off when he knows he’s not working her that hard, why is she such a pain in the ass, how bad does it hurt, is he helping...

Seifa will wait, all quiet sighs and hitched breaths till he's so focused in shifting the tiny bones of her wrist under the pressure of his thumb that she can ask him how he feels, and he'll tell her.

That's the key. 

Troy Calypso is so terrified of being seen as less because of his pain, that he'll pretend it doesn't exist, he'll suffer in silence alone in the sorrow of his empty ship. But if he's protecting someone else? If he is massaging the old fracture in Seifa's wrist and lost in the concentration of trying to ease her distress? He'll tell her about his neck if she asks, or the pain in the dull hollow of his lumbar, or how he's thrown up 4 times today, how he woke up the other night and was sure his heart had stopped.

He'll mumble out secret fears he was hiding behind the God King's vicious mask for weeks, and he'll let her run fingers through his hair as she tells him how strong he really is.

[raidbossmadi]

Crumbling

Note: This takes place about 3 years before the events of BL3 

“T-Ty I want to go h-home.” 

“We can't go home Troy. I told you already,” Tyreen sighed and ran her hand through Troy’s hair. They were holed up in a shitty shack on Promethea’s Skid row. Typhon hadn’t held onto much money and the money that he did have she was trying to make last before they could make it to Pandora, it was bad enough that they had to make this pit stop to refuel the Centurion after underestimating exactly how much fuel they had .

There was the fact that she knew from slips in his office on the Centurion that Typhon had a bank account, but he’d been missing for two decades and there was no way she could just march up to a bank and proclaim herself Typhon Deleon's heir, that was probably one they heard all the time. 

As if to make matters worse, Troy had gotten sick, it wasn’t the first time since they’d left their father but it was the worst so far. She got up to re-wet the cloth she’d draped across his forehead, his hand weakly grasping onto the corner of her shirt.  

“D-don’t leave m-me.”  His eyes were glazed over in fever and he’d done this every time she’d gotten up to get him something.

“I’ll be right back Troy, I promise.” She said gently, pulling herself loose from his grip. Not for the first time she found herself wishing she was her mother; Leda had always seemed to know how to handle Troy at his sickest and among the many regrets she had surrounding her mother's death the largest was that as with most things she did it was Troy who had suffered the most as a result. 

This of course was not to say Tyreen hadn’t loved her mother of course she did, but  she was very aware that every choice she had made after her mother’s passing could be viewed in such a light that she was cold and uncaring towards her weaker twin. But she did care she wouldn’t have lied to him if she thought he would of left the oppressive grasp of their father any other way. She wouldn’t be forsaking her own needs to care for him like she was now if she truly hated Troy. 

It was just hard, they were both adults and they had nothing to go on but their fathers stories of what the world outside Nekrotafeyo was like. A world that they had found was as dangerous as Typhon warned but not for the same reasons. They had yet to encounter people looking to tear them apart, but there were plenty of people who thought they could take advantage of the twins only to be put in their place. 

 Tyreen was lost in her thoughts for a moment not realizing how long she’d been way until Troy started coughing and she couldn’t help but hurry back to him replacing the cloth on his head and patting him on the back in an attempt to help him through it. She needed to get him medicine but not only was it the middle of the night she also had no idea where to go. 

“You should try and get some sleep Troy, I need to go out and try to find you some help .” She soothed, knowing full well that she too needed sleep, she’d barely gotten any herself in days but she couldn’t stop herself from working around the clock to make sure Troy was ok. She would never forgive herself if something happened to him because of her. He’d already dealt with so much because of her. 

She waited until she was sure he was asleep before she slipped out the door, she didn’t want to leave him alone for too long and given their living conditions she was worried what might happen if someone else came across their home and saw Troy as an easy target. She wasn’t even sure where she should go, she couldn’t just turn up at pharmacy and demand their drug supply. She didn’t even really know what Troy was sick with. What she really needed was a doctor.  

She was panicking,even though she was outside the house it felt like invisible walls were closing in around her. The thought of losing the only person she could trust, the only person who understood her completely crashed over her like a tidal wave. Her tattoos flared her powers ready to protect their owner from a threat that did not exist, she was a danger to anyone she might encounter. She had to get under control, this wasn’t about her, this was about Troy. 

She leaned against a dirty brick wall and took several deep breaths. She needed to pull herself together, every minute she spent away from Troy was another minute something terrible could happen to him. She felt so stupid and helpless for the first time since they left home, things had just worked out so far though and she supposed all she could do now was hope that they continued to work out. 

Fate it seemed was in Tyreen’s favor as  after walking towards the nearest group of buildings and she saw a neon medical cross emblazoned on a building and she hoped that there was someone there willing to help her.  She was sure she looked a mess feeling the receptionists eyes on her from the moment she stepped through the door.  

“Can I help you Miss?”  The woman asked standing up seemingly startled by her sudden entrance.  

“Not me, my brother he’s really sick. I can’t move him.” Tyreen began. “We’re not far from here a-and I can't be gone long but he needs help, please.”  She hated how pathetic she sounded but on the other hand she really needed to sell how helpless she felt in this situation. She needed someone, anyone to take pity on her and help. 

The receptionist looked at her, looked to her tattoos scribbled something down and looked behind her again. “Stay right there hun, I won’t be but a minute.” 

True to her word the receptionist returned through the door with another woman in tow, slightly taller with multi-color tipped blonde hair wearing a doctor’s coat and carrying a medical bag.  

“Come along, there’s a truck in the back we can take.” She said. Tyreen nodded and followed after glad that at the very least she was being taken seriously.  “My name is Spectra by the way, what can I call you… I don’t think Siren is going to cut it.”  

Tyreen blinked a few times not expecting to have been pegged as a Siren so easily despite the obvious exposed markings on her arm, she was accustomed to them being hidden by the coat she  wore but in her haste to get to finding help she had left it behind. 

“My name is Tyreen, Tyreen...Calypso.” The name still felt foreign in her mouth even though it had been at least a month of not being Tyreen DeLeon. To be fair at the moment she didn’t feel worthy of carrying her mother’s name when she was failing so spectacularly at the one thing Leda had wanted for her children. 

Tyreen directed Spectra back to the dwelling the truck pulling up in the tight alleyway.  Tyreen wasn’t sure how Troy would react to her bringing a stranger into the house, even if he was extremely unwell. He was skittish given that he couldn’t defend himself, so she took a rather large lead leaving the door open for the doctor to follow. 

Troy was still curled up on the mattress, a thin sheet of sweat coating his skin. Much to her dismay he was awake, she had been gone too long and it was clear he was in distress. She sat down on the edge of the mattress resting her hand on his shoulder. 

“Troy, it’s Tyreen I’m here.” 

“Y-you were g-g-gone.” He stuttered clearly struggling at this point to string words together, his visible  rib cage struggling to expand. She had gotten back just in time it would seem. 

“Shh I know, I’m sorry. It’s gonna be ok though, I brought a doctor. They’re going to help you, you just need to relax.” She reassured as Spectra entered through the open door  assessing the conditions the twins lived in briefly before her eyes locked onto Troy. 

“Dear Lord, I know we’re in the slums but surely you two haven’t been staying here long term?” She asked pulling out instruments from her bag. “He’s your brother right, What’s his name? How long has he been ill?” 

“Troy, he started feeling sick maybe four days ago. He only got this bad earlier this morning though, normally I can handle it on my own and it goes away but he’s only gotten worse.” Tyreen decided it was smart to leave out the fact that she usually had all manner of things to leech to bolster Troy’s strength with, but here there was hardly anything unless she wanted to go after humans and that was something that would draw attention and on top of that was not something she was willing to do quite yet. 

Spectra nodded and stuck a thermometer into his mouth only to be surprised when he resisted the action, she didn’t think he had that kind of strength in him presently. “It’s alright Troy, I’m only here to help.” She reassured though now that she was this close she noticed the things about Troy that were abnormal outside of his sickness but made no comment. 

“A hundred and four, I’m going to have to bring him back to the clinic, he needs professional grade treatment.” She said putting away the thermometer. The doctor paused for a moment as if seeing Tyreen clearly for the first time and furrowed  her brow “You’re both very clearly under weight, I want to bring both of you back in.” 

Tyreen chewed her lip scared of what would happen if others at the medical facility learned of the two sirens. However Spectra was right and Tyreen conceded. “You have to keep us on the down low though.” 

“It’s just me and the nurse  you saw at the desk at the clinic, nothing to worry about.” 

Tyreen said no more instead shoving the few valuables they had into a duffle bag as Spectra moved Troy to the truck. She didn’t trust the safety of the house to leave anything behind nor did she honestly know if they’d be back. Spectra could betray them and sell them to Atlas but honestly at this point getting Troy looked after was more important than the possibility of becoming a test subject for the rest of her life. 

She felt a bit numb as she climbed back into the passenger seat. She had been so sure they couldn’t trust anyone yet this woman had rushed to their aid without a second thought. There was so much Tyreen didn’t know about the world outside Nekrotafeyo, so much that she didn’t know about people. Her trust was wary and suspicious but she knew she couldn’t drive away everyone who wasn’t Troy, that wasn’t sustainable for survival. 

The ride and intake process at the clinic was mostly a blur, it was nearing five in the morning now and through all the stress  Tyreen had finally mentally checked out not even noticing when Spectra  approached her with an IV into her arm to help quell her own dehydration. She snapped to attention when the doctor reached out to touch her though dodging out of the way. 

“Don’t. Just don’t.” Despite her best efforts she couldn’t control herself right now, if she was touched she would leech that was the state she was in.

 “I can do it myself.” She had spent enough time learning from Tern how to find veins and treat herself just for situations like this. Spectra gave her privacy which Tyreen appreciated not wanting to be gawked at while she stuck herself with a needle. 

In lull between hooking herself up to the drip and waiting for an update about Troy, Tyreen managed to doze off into a fitful sleep.  It wasn’t until she heard someone calling her name that her eyes fluttered open with a start, seeing Dr.Spectra crouched to eye level with her. 

“Tyreen? Tyreen? Sweetheart you can go back to  sleep in a minute I promise, just one question.” Spectra kept her motherly tone especially after realizing the twins were clearly alone outside of each other. “Those markings on your brothers left side… is he a siren too?” 

“Uh yeah, I mean…kinda?  I mean he can’t do anything, our Dad always told us that Troy was just a broken siren… I dunno what that means but…” She shrugged her shoulders she didn’t fully understand the implications and weight of her own powers, only that they were unpredictable and dangerous. That they were the only thing sustaining her brother yet they could so easily destroy in the same breath. She didn’t understand why other sirens they had researched like Lilith of the Crimson Raiders didn’t seem to be as dangerous as she could be. 

Spectra frowned and wrote something down on her notepad. “Alright, get some rest sweetie. Your brother is in good hands.” 

Tyreen has wanted to ask more but her mouth couldn’t keep up with her thoughts and the doctor was gone before she could ask her to wait. She shifted in the chair still exhausted and eventually fell back asleep. 

Waking up in a strange place was enough to jolt Tyreen to high alert even when she recalled the night's events. She frowned at the strip of gauze on her arm where at some point in her sleep the IV had been removed, a smart move given that a sleeping Tyreen was safe to touch . She opted not to wait for Spectra to return to her instead recalling through the fog of exhaustion that clouded the previous night which room in the small clinic was Troy’s, about to enter before she heard the voices inside. 

“Yeah I’m telling you Spec, I checked the databases three times there’s no medical history for either of them. The last records of a Calypso on Promethea date back to the Atlas Vault Acquisition Division which was merged into the Crimson Lance twenty years ago at least.” 

“Their Mother perhaps?” 

Tyreen paled, she had forgotten that Leda was from Promethea, that her mother had been a Siren owned by Atlas corporation, the reason their father had always feared them getting out. 

She took a breath and walked in anyway, knowing what she would have to do if things turned sour. However, when she walked into the room, the two women, Spectra and the nurse from last night  looked more concerned for the young Siren who just walked in then Tyreen expected. 

“How are you feeling Tyreen?” Spectra asked as Tyreen walked past almost on autopilot to Troy sleeping form.  He looked a little better at least though the tubing and machinery hooked up to him made Tyreen’s heart skip a beat. He was so helpless and all she wanted was to  take him away from here, to protect him. 

“Tyreen?” Spectra repeated. 

“Fine, I’m fine. Will Troy be ok though?” She asked her eyes staying locked on her brother. 

“He will, his fever has gone down to a manageable level and we’ve got him on some antibiotics. It’ll be ok Tyreen.” 

Tyreen sighed and sank into the chair at her brothers bedside allowing herself to truly rest for the first time since Troy had fallen ill. She could be hard on her brother, she knew that she could see distant and cruel but at the end of the day she terrified of losing him like she had their mother. 

None of that mattered right now, all that mattered was that he would make it through this. She took his hand in hers and gave it a squeeze, They would make it through this. 

[cocoisbestgirl]

Fanfic I can’t think of a name for pt 8

Magda’s head ached fiercely as she got out of bed. The sun seemed to scorch her eyes, and she pulled her blanket over her head to hide her face from the light. She groaned as she felt the sun peek through her blanket slightly. 

‘Gah… I shouldn’t have drank so much…’ Magda thought as she took the blanket off and threw her legs over the side of the bed. She gripped her head for a few seconds before her door opened.

“Miss Magda, Miss Felicity ordered you some medicine…”

Magda waved the maid off without a word, and she heard a light click as the maid put down a metal tray on her bed stand. Magda plugged her nose as she drank the liquid. Only for her face to unclench. It wasn’t...terrible…

It definitely tasted just slightly off, but nothing Magda couldn't stomach. She remembered the sludge of medicine that she used to choke down in the slums. Whatever it was usually worked if you managed to get a whole sip of it down without throwing it up seconds later. That horrid medicine, awful as it was, was cheap and usually came in big bottles. It was one of the only ways a girl at the bottom could have her cheap thrills without feeling like death was at her door the next day.

Magda felt her body surge with energy after getting the medicine down. Her head ache faded as a few minutes past.  She breathed heavily as she curled back in her bed, this time being able to fully relax in the morning sun.

About an hour past before Magda heard the door open.

“Hey, Magda. Good news,” Felicity walked into Magda’s room and smiled at her brightly.

“Let’s hear it.”

“You have the whole day to yourself, mostly anyway. Ivan wants to meet up with you today.”

“Ah...where?”

“So, there’s this greenhouse….”

Despite the winter cold, the greenhouse was warm. Magda was nearly sweating from the heat, even though she wore one of her lighter winter dresses. Which still shielded her from the cold outside, but didn’t scorch her the second she stepped indoors.

‘I’ll have to get some summer dresses before spring hits,’ Magda thought to herself as she paced near the rose bushes.

“Hello, my lady. I’m glad you came.” A voice boomed from behind her

“Ah! Ivan! You came!” Magda turned around and greeted Ivan.

“Uhm….Magda...I-I wish I would’ve known you were a noble… I would’ve treated you better..”

“What? You were always kind to me, what do you mean? Anyway...what even happened to you? You just got up and vanished one day!”

Ivan smiled a bit as he remembered something...

It was him ,far younger than he was today, quietly packing his bags, looking out of the windows every so often. Hoping to see Magda just one last time before he had to leave. The silence of his family home broke everything inside of him down to a sliver of resistance. A once lively household reduced to a mere shell. Death and debt plagued his family. It had not helped that his father…..

“I’m sorry Magda,” Ivan said to the blonde girl in front of him, “My family. Well it wasn’t stable. At all,really.”

“Ah! I’m sorry I-”

“Nope, don’t worry. You’re fine ,my lady.”

“Ivan, just call me Magda. You know me.”

“Magda, I’m sorry. We don’t really know each other anymore.”

Magda felt her shoulders drop, and hints of anger building in her voice.

“Ivan, what do you mean? I’m the same Magda I was back then. Nothing changed.”

“I mean...you’re….” As much as Ivan wanted to say something else...something nicer he couldn’t, “You’re a nobility now.” “Does..that change anything?” Magda could hear her voice rising despite her attempts to keep her cool.

“No...I mean, yeah kinda. My lady, I’d love to remeet you.”

Magda’s anger burned into a blush as he smiled at her. Ivan looked at her blush.

“You blush at everything.”

“I do not!”

“You always did! Even as a kid if a boy ,or a girl for that matter, even smiled you blushed like a tomato. I remember you and Alan. Lovebirds.”

“We were nothing of the sort! What about you and that oren girl! Now you two were real lovers.”

“Coco and I were nothing more than friends-”

“Most of the time,” Magda pulled a fan out and covered her mouth to chuckle.

Ivan blushed and pulled the fan away from Magda’s face.

“Your cute Magda, Don’t cover your smiles.”

Pink? No, Now magda’s face was bright red at this point. 

“Don’t make fun of me!”

Felicity looked down as she watched Magda return from her visit with Ivan. She felt her heart grow with some sick disgusting feeling. A growing void overtook her heart and left her chest empty.

“Oh, Felicity! It was amazing! He is just the same as I remember!” Magda hugged her friend tightly, “I’m so happy right now! You planned it all out for me. I-I I could kiss you right now!”

Those words struck Felicity’s heart hard. She forced a smile ,and hugged her …friend? 

“Always, Magda. I’m always here for a pal!”

“I can see that! I owe you a big favor!”

“I’m not a debtor Magda, You keep your favor for now.”

“Ah...Felicity haven’t seen you here in awhile,” One of the many nobles Felicity had become... acquainted with greeted her. He held his hand out.

“No, not again. Do me a favor and leave.”

“Come on Fel~ We all know you can’t do much better than me. Why not?” He purred as he reached for her hand.

“Do you want to get punched again, I’m really not in the mood for this.” Felicity said as she stood up from her chair, the piece of furniture made an ungodly squeal as she moved it aside.

Felicity made her way out of the Tavern. She wasn’t in the mood for...him.  She never was in the mood for him anyway.

‘I only got with him because I thought he was cool! It was nothing bigger than that!’

 Her fist clenched as she started down the dark streets of Finsel. 

Felicity’s confidence drained from her, her gotty make-up along with a shirt that barely covered her breasts and definitely didn’t cover her stomach once made her feel on top of the world, now it was only a reminder of everything she wasn’t. She was a noblewoman, she had more money than she really needed, and she even had the illusion of a family. She lacked almost everything else, confidence, beauty, a nice voice… She looked down at her body. The one thing she lacked now was true freedom.

She quickly began to speed walk home. She heard the distant whirrings of machines, and horses hooves clicking on the cobblestone roads.

“Ms. Ellenstein?”

As soon as Felicity heard the voice she quickly turned around. It was Alan. The blondie from the guards.

 “You scared me! Don’t do that!”

“Aren’t you cold? It’s the middle of winter…”

“Nah, it’s all good. I’m just heading home.”

Felicity felt comfortable around Blondie. She never felt his eyes drift away from her face or eyes. No matter how seductive she thought she looked he never looked at her as anything other than a noblewoman.

“Alan, why are you even out here?”

“Just...patrolling..” Alan’s eyes went to the road for a few seconds.

“Bull. I know you’re up to something. Come on! What is it?”

Alan reached into his pockets and brought something shining out of it. 

“M-Ms. Magda left her earrings at the last ball! I wanted to return them to her…”

“You sure you didn’t steal them?”

“I-I would never! Felicity please understand-”

Ivan failed to listen to the rest of the conversation. All his thoughts were about those earrings….

“Ah, the two Ellenstein sisters, how lovely!” Ivan cheered as he handed Felicity a drink and at least tried to give one to Magda.

“Thank you, Ivan. I uh...learned my lesson.”

Ivan smiled a bit, as he put the drink back on the plate he was carrying. Felicity gave Ivan a small wink as he departed, he winked back.

“What was that all about?” Magda asked.

“Nothing, I just like the drinks he gives.”

“I’m talking about all the winking. I’m not as naive as you think I am.”

“Ah, well he’s growing on you isn’t he?”

“W-what?”

“He’s not just a friend is he?”

“Huh!? We are just friends. Nothing more nothing less.”

“I have a hard time believing that, Magda.”

“Well, I don’t have any feelings for him. He’s very sweet, but…. I can’t see him as anything more than a friend.”

“You’ve gone on what? One date? It may change!”

“Felicity...I already…”

“Whoa whoa there! Who is it! Girl code! Girl Code!”

“You already have it narrowed down to two.”

“If it’s not Ivan it’s either Alan or Xavier. Alan, isn’t it? I don’t even think you’ve met Xavier yet he’s been gone for like 3 months.”

“Yes..” Magda blushed a little bit as she knew Alan was going to be at this ball.

“Oh, Don’t be embarrassed! Every noblewoman or noble thinks he’s at least a little cute!”

“I actually knew him before I was brought into the Ellenstein family.”

‘Brought in?’ Lynna thought as she hid behind a wall, obscuring her from being caught and humiliated by the Ellenstein sisters.

‘Magda acts as if she’s nothing but a stray dog.. I need to find giulolo. She’ll know more about this.’

The green lady walked away in search of the redheaded Oren girl. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she knew those Ellensteins were becoming more and more prestigious. They had even been invited to the senate in just one year. It had been over a year since Magda was found, and Lynna still found it all too convenient. How on earth did Eliza find her twin in such a place as Finsel? There was no way that after over 10 years of searching they just happened across her while looking for a maid.

‘There’s no way...not a single way! Magda is a fraud! I know it!’

Lynna walked around the overly crowded ballrooms. People seemed to be shoulder to shoulder, she put her arms to work and started pushing people away from her. The small Redhead was already speaking to somebody. A blonde girl whose name Lynna didn’t care to know, and never would. 

“Giulolo, a moment,” Lynna demanded as she hip-checked the blonde girl away.

“Ah, Miss Lynna, what do you need Giulolo for?”

The blonde girl protested at Lynna.

“You have no right to shove me away!” the noblewoman pointed her finger in Lynna’s face

“Quiet! Little noble! Now leave, you aren’t wanted here!”

The blonde huffed as she sashayed away from Lynna. Even a lower noble knew that it wasn’t worth the battle for an oren’s attention.

“Well, Giulolo. How much do you know about this...Magda Ellenstein?”

“Well, she was born to unknown parents-”

“I knew it!” Lynna had already began to celebrate in her head.

“Who was then revealed to be Eliza Ellenstein when she turned-”

“Get to the point, Oren!”

“Ah! Miss Lynna is scary… Well uhm… she grew up in the slums after being kidnapped and now she’s returned to her family.”

“There has to be some more information! Anything!”

“Unfortunately, since Magda was kidnapped and grew up in the slums Giulolo has little to no information on her… She did wear some earrings that-”

“Ugh! I don’t care about her stupid earrings!” Lynna whined as she walked off without saying goodbye to the Oren girl.

‘I’m gonna find out what’s up with Magda. She isn’t a noble! She can’t be!’

Magda’s dress spun in the wind that blew through the ballroom. She looked like a rose in full bloom. Alan wasn’t the only person to take notice of it. He saw a few others looking in her direction.  He knew he wasn’t the only man who thought about her, but in a bad way of course!

“That Magda girl really is a beauty!” One nobleman said as he smiled towards her.

Alan didn’t flinch at these comments even a single bit. They were true after all. She was the true beauty of Finsel. At least to Alan she was, anyway.

“Imagine being her. All that attention! Must be nice!” A noble woman walked down the stairs said to her, probably, sister.

That comment didn’t phase him either. It really must be nice being nobility….

“Hm… imagine that. Being so pretty, and yet so naive ...” One man looked at Magda with strange eyes that Alan was all too familiar with. 

Those words made him perk up slightly. It wouldn’t be the first time he had to kick somebody out of a ball,but more or less he was curious about what they were going to say about her..

The man looked over at a boy who had to be around Alan’s age if not a bit younger. The boy looked up at his brother? More likely his father, but still.

“How to you feel about her?”

“I uhm…” The boy shuffled uncomfortably, “She’s kinda pretty I guess?”

“Listen kid, she’s the talk of Finsel right now. You have to at least try to make a move on her before it’s too late!”

“But she’s older than me…”

The talk between the two kept going for a few minutes before Alan tuned out of it. It wasn’t every day that Alan took advice from a complete stranger, but he came to learn that they sometimes are smarter than the playboy Alan used to go to for advice.

“Lynna, go to sleep.”

“Mother, this is important!”

“DID I STUTTER?! I won’t have you seen with peasants! You’ve made enough of a name for yourself today!”

Lynna flinched at Tilla’s words. She raised her hands to her face for a second. 

“N-no...I-”

“Don’t even continue. If you have bags under your eyes tomorrow ...”

Before Tilla could finish her sentence Lynna was under her covers and curled up.

“Good,” Tilla shut the door loud enough to shake the windows.

‘If I’m quiet enough I can sneak out of here…’ 

The night was dark and frozen, but Lynna felt the heat of both hatred and curiosity in her head. She discarded her nightgown in favor of a slightly warmer coat and gown. The gown was brown, all Lynna would have to do would be to steal an apron from a servant. That would be easy enough. Her footsteps were near silent down the hallways and stairs. All she needed to do was-

“My lady, what are you doing up so late?” 

Lynna’s heart jumped then softened as she saw her favorite person, her servant….

“Shh! Quiet, I-I have a favor to ask of you Lawrence.”

“Anything, My gorgeous radiant star-”

“I need you to get me an apron, don’t ask! Just go grab one and hurry back. I ca- I can..make it worth your while, I promise!”

“Lynna, you don’t owe me a-”

“Lawrence! Just go.”

In just a few minutes Lawrence returned with an apron. It was dirtied with mud and stained with something reddish...

“I’m sorry I could not find a clean-”

“Perfect!” Lynna snatched it from his hands and strapped it around her waist. She pulled Lawrence down her his level and kissed his cheek before disappearing into the darkness of the hallways leading to the front door. She felt a small spark in her heart afterward.

‘Perfect now all I need to do is-’ She paused, she snuck out of the house.

She did something her mother could not stop.. She escaped….

[inactiveblogxoxo]

whoa i wrote a fic again

crAZY ((sorry i was sick for like two months and then i moved but now im hopefully writing again))

AYWAY: Kiribaku fic

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18345518

what do you mean

Sum:  Kirishima thinks Bakugou has a girlfriend. Bakugou just wants Kirishima to act like he usually does. Will they ever understand what they mean to each other? ((yes. They will.))

tags:  Bakusquad (My Hero Academia), Movie Nights, Jealous Kirishima Eijirou, Misunderstandings, solved almost immediately, No Angst, straight fluff, Fluff, jirou and bakugou are bffs, im so tired, Not Beta Read, One Shot

full fic in read more

They settled into watching some super old horror. The film was in black and white and from before quirks appeared, but it was bloody and entertaining enough.

Kaminari and Sero sat cuddled up on Sero’s hammock, Ashido rested in a bean bag chair next to the them that she had brought up from her own dorm. Jirou sat on the floor, her back resting against the bean bag. Kirishima and Bakugou shared Sero’s bed, their backs both against the wall and their feet hanging off the side in from of them.

They were twenty minutes into the film and every time Bakugou happened to brush against Kirishima, Kiri would shift further away from him. It was driving Bakugou insane. Kirishima was always throwing an arm around him and pulling him closer, what the fuck did he do? He had been distant all week.

Sunday night he had been tutoring the gaggle of idiots he spends his time with, minus the red head who had been visiting his moms that weekend. Sero and Kaminari left early to binge some anime together, leaving just him and Ashido. Ashido jumped into gossiping, which gathered the attention of Jirou, Hagakure and Uraraka, and soon Bakugou found himself surrounded by them at the once productive table in the common room.

That’s how Kirishima found him when he walked into the dorms with his over night bag over his shoulder.

“Kiri! Welcome back!” Ashido called out to him. Kirishima had smiled and sauntered over.

“Hey, Mina!” He smiled and bent down to hug her. Turning as he stood, he made eye contact with Bakugou and rose an eyebrow at him. “So, what’s going on here?”

“Bakubabe was giving us some hot goss!” Ashido rested her chin in her palm as she smiled.

“I fucking told you not to call me that, raccoon eyes,” Bakugou bristled, his chin tucked to his chest to avoid Kirishima’s gaze.

“And I told you not to call me raccoon eyes, bakulicious.”

“bakulicious” Uraraka snorted under her breath.

Bakugou scoffed and rolled his eyes but said nothing else, he was tired and Kirishima was back. The rest of this night no longer mattered.

“Kiri, how are your moms?” he asked instead, partly out of curiosity, partly to draw the attention away from him.

Kirishima lit up, “oh! They’re great! You should come back with me next time, they asked about you!”

“Oooooo,” Hakagure cooed, “you guys know each other’s parents? Just how close are you?”

Bakugou again rolled his eyes and Kirishima just smiled.

“Wait, have I been so focused on the budding romance of Uraraka and Midoryia-“

“W-What!” Uraraka interrupted with a blush.

“-that I’ve been missing out on the one blossoming right before my eyes?” Ashido continued as if Uraraka said nothing. Bakugou groaned and rested his forehead against the table, figured she would say something completely idiotic.

“Hm, I could see it happening,” Jirou mused. Fuck, he forgot she was there. He lifted his head and found her staring at him with a menacing grin. Fuckkk, he never should have told her anything.

“Right?!” Hakagure gushed, “you guys would be so cute together!”

“Aw, c’mon, guys, stop. We’re just good friends,” Kirishima spoke up for them, hand awkwardly rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Bakushima… no, wait, Kiribaku… no, wait, maybe-“

“What the fuck are you doing, Ashido?” Bakugou interrupted her musing.

“I’m trying to make a cute couple name for you two!” She grinned, “like dekuraka! For Midoryia and Uraraka!”

That seemed to KO Urauraka, who slammed her hands down on her face and floated away while bright red.

“Don’t fucking bother! That’s dumb as shit,” He grumbled, sinking into his chair. He felt Jirou’s eyes on him still and he hated the feeling.

“C’mon, it’s kind of cute,” Jirou twirled one of her ear jacks with a smirk. “Admit it, Katsuki.”

“I’m gonna kill you, Kyouka,” he snarled. How dare she taunt him. How dare she use his first name to do it.

“Uh, anyway, I’m gonna go to bed,” Kirishima coughed awkwardly, gaining all of their attentions.

“Me too,” Bakugou jumped up and followed him towards the elevator.

“Good night, guys!” Kirishima called with a wave. The girls jeered after them and Bakugou flipped them off until the elevator doors closed behind them.

They stood in silence for a while but Bakugou didn’t feel uncomfortable, he was glad to finally have a moment away from the idiotic giggles of Ashido and Hakagure and the knowing stare of Jirou.

“So uh, Kyouka, huh?” Bakugou furrowed his eye brows, what did that mean?

“…What?” He glanced at Kirishima with a blank expression.

“Nothing, I just… Uh, never mind,” Kirishima backtracked and the elevator opened. “Well, good night, dude!” He rushed over to his dorm.

“Hey, Kiri, wait!” But it was too late, Kirishima was already behind the door. Bakugou huffed and jammed his hands in his pockets, trailing his feet to his own dorm.

God damn it, how did he fuck up this time?

Kirishima had avoided him the rest of the week.

Bakugou had purposefully arrived at Sero’s dorm late for their movie night. Ashido, Sero, Kaminari, and Jirou, idiots that they were, had picked up on the tension between the two and had left the only empty space the one next to Kirishima.

It was his usual seat anyway.

But even with the ease of their usual routine, Kirishima was still doing his best to avoid him. He really couldn’t figure it out, he went over everything that happened over and over again in his mind. The teasing had been weird, sure, but he didn’t think it was enough to make Kirishima avoid him. Was he really that sensitive about their relationship? Was he disgusted by the idea of them as a couple? He had tried to stop the girls a couple times, but he hadn’t seemed angry… Awkward, but not so uncomfortable as to cut off their friendship.

He had asked about his trip home and Kirishima had seemed over joyed. He was terrible at faking so he knew it couldn’t have been anything from home that had upset him so much.

So, it was something he did.

Fuck, what did he do? How does he make up for something when he has no idea what went wrong?

He moved his legs to sit criss-cross and when his knee brushed Kirishima’s thigh, the other boy shifted until they were no longer touching.

And that, was the final straw. Bakugou, officially, was losing it.

“Kiri,” he whispered, leaning into Kirishima’s space just so he could be hear over the movie. “What the fuck- uh, I mean… fuck.” He took a deep breath to start again. He had to be calm, he was trying to apologize. “Are you upset with me or something?”

Kirishima started at him, wide eyed with an open jaw. “Wha… What, I mean, why do you say that?”

Bakugou wrung his sweaty hands together in a nervous gesture, “you’re not,” fuck he couldn’t say ‘you’re not trying to cuddle with me during the movie and I’ve tried to initiate it, but you keep pulling away and its making me sad and I don’t know why and I also don’t know why you won’t.’ He couldn’t say ‘you’ve been distant and avoiding me all week and I don’t know why and I’ve missed you.’ He couldn’t say what he was feeling and he couldn’t voice what about Kirishima he missed but damn, he had to say something.

“you’re not acting… like you usually are and I… I feel like I must have done something and I’m…sorry,” the last word he breathed out quieter than the rest. He only wanted Kirishima to hear, it was only for him.

“Oh,” Kiri’s face melted into a soft smile, “it’s fine, Bakugou, it’s me… I’m just, being,” he sighed and shook his head. “I’ll get over it.”

Bakugou grumbled at the answer. He purposefully brushed his leg against Kirishima and Kirishima moved away again.

What was he doing? Clearly Kirishima didn’t want to be near him. He bit his cheek in embarrassment and looked away.

He said it was nothing, he said it was just something he was working through, so then why was he still not acting like normal?

As far as Bakugou could see it, he had three options. 1: Leave this fuckfest of a mental headache and go the fuck to sleep. 2: Ignore Kirishima right back and just watch the movie. 3: Force Kirishima back to normal by taking on his role of the initiator for the night.

He bristled at his options.

He deiced he wasn’t a pussy and tomorrow was Saturday so if it went poorly he could just hide from this gaggle of idiots until it all blew over.

He slummed onto Kirishima’s side. He felt the redhead stiffen but he didn’t push him away. He didn’t look away from the movie and he didn’t move to wrap his arm around him. Usually, the idiot had his arm around Bakugou’s waist and was checking in on him every few minutes. Whispering what he thought about the movie and giving Bakugou a shoulder to sleep on when it got late and Bakugou passed out.

Angry, he gripped Kirishima’s arm and wrapped it around himself. Kirishima stared at him again with panicked eyes but Bakugou only frowned at him.

Kirishima stiffly looked from Bakugou to Jirou and back, “uh, I know that you… but won’t… I mean…” He sighed to steady himself, “Bakugou, if you want to… Then maybe you should sit with Jirou, I don’t mind moving.”

What? “Fucking what?”

“I just mean,” Kirishima bit is lip, “I don’t feel comfortable, like, hanging out the way we used to, now that you have a girlfriend.”

WHAT? Bakugou felt his hands shaking. His palms cackled with excess sweat he couldn’t control.

“Kirishima,” he tightened his grip around the red head’s now hardened arm, “I really need to talk to you. Now.” He pulled at Kirishima’s arm as he stood from the bed, forcing Kirishima to follow behind him as he excited the dorm.

“Hey, where are you guys going?” Kaminari called after them but Jirou and Ashido hushed him.

Bakugou pulled Kirishima down the stairs and pushed his way into the other boy’s dorm. Only once inside did he let go.

Kirishima cast his gaze to the floor and sat down on the edge of his bed. “So, what do you need to talk about?”

Bakugou huffed and sat next to him, “Kirishima, I don’t have a girlfriend. I don’t know why the fuck you think that but I fucking don’t.”

“But,” Kirishima finally met his gaze, confused. “You and Jirou, you guys called each other…”

“Oh,” Bakugou ran a sweaty hand through his hair. That’s what this was about, “she just!” he breathed deep a couple times to calm himself down, he didn’t want to scream all this. “She was just taunting me. She was making fun of me because-“ he cut himself off, embarrassed.

He groaned and fell back against the bed, an arm thrown over his eyes. “Because I told her that I… liked you.”

“You liked me?” He could hear the confusion in the red head’s voice.

“Like, I like you, Kirishima.”

“Oh,” he whispered back then again, a few minutes later, “oh.”

He felt the bed shift and moved his arm to see Kirishima adjusting himself to lean over him. He watched with what he hoped were expressionless eyes, but he still felt his ears get hot.

“You like me,” Kirishima repeated, breath fanning across Bakugou’s face. He felt like if Kirishima had a tail he would be wagging it with the way he was grinning.

“Yes,” Bakugou murmured. His eyes watched Kirishima’s. He licked his lips quickly, suddenly feeling so dry, and watched as Kirishima’s eyes followed the movement.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Kirishima spoke, eyes drifting back up from Bakugou’s lips for a moment.

Bakugou reached up with his hands to grip at Kirishima’s shirt where it hung lose against him. He closed his eyes as he breathed in deeply to calm his nerves. On the outtake of his breath, he adjusted his neck slightly to get more comfortable. He opened his eyes and found Kirishima’ red eyes watching him closely. His smile was replaced with a fond expression Bakugou was embarrassed to find he liked.

Flushing red, he leaned up and brushed his nose against the bottom of Kirishima’s jaw and whispered: “okay.”

Wasting now time, Kirishima turned his head and crashed his lips to his. He kissed hard as if he was trying to convince himself this wasn’t a dream by adding pain to the kiss.

Bakugou didn’t try to soften it, he met Kirishima’s hard kiss with his own. Their teeth smashed together, nose pressed uncomfortably to each other’s faces. They broke apart and rejoined over and over. Bakugou’s hands drifted from where they fisted at Kirishima’s stomach to wrapping around Kirishima’s neck. He used this leverage to pull himself closer, press harder. Kirishima smiled against his lips, pulling away to plant light kisses all around his face. He left one arm to the side of Bakugou’s head to support himself, the other gripped at Bakugou’s hip. Calloused thumb rubbed small circles into his skin, his hand gripped him tight and pulled him ever closer. Their lips found each other’s again. Kirishima opened his mouth and when Bakugou felt his tongue on his lips he broke away.

Panting, he smiled. Tucking his face into Kirishima’s chest.

“You like me too, then?” he asked.

Kirishima laughed and he could feel the vibrations of it all around him, “I do. So, so much.”

[bellatrixobsessed1]

One Hundred Thousand

Avatar World Week: Day 6 - Heart

Azula finds herself being sold on the black market. (Because everyone does romance for heart and I want to be an edgelord).

A finger was worth ten-thousand gold pieces. A pound of flesh was worth ten-thousand and five-hundred. A lung was worth twenty or so thousand and a sack of ribs were worth twenty-thousand per rib. A heart? That was where the money was. A heart was worth one-hundred-thousand gold pieces.

Double that if the person was of high birth.

Triple it if they were of royal status.

 Azula never contemplated the worth of human organs and bones. Much less her own. She had that kind of money already. Even if she didn’t, she wasn’t barbaric enough to carve out a person’s kidney or pluck an eye for it.

There were enough savages around without her, that much had become apparent.

 No, she hadn’t put any thought at all into the price of organs until she was drugged and well on her way to be harvested.  She tried to move, but she found her body paralyzed. Shishru venom, it had to be. She hoped that they would at least put her completely out when they started the harvesting process. But from what she had heard, this lot had little regard for their captured. Not that she expected tenderness from black market sellers.

 She imagined that they’d be dragging her along without any regard whatsoever, if it weren’t quicker to just carry her to their dwelling. The place they are taking her to lies on the volcano’s rim; the place her father told her to avoid at all costs. A place that smelled strongly of sulfur and production waste. A place prone to the Fire Nation’s worst people.

Azula could taste the pollution and rot on her tongue. She didn’t think it would be long before she joined the rot.

 The entire slum town was crafted of rusting steel. The whole place was crumbling, its state of decay might have been a cause for the rotting stench. And the building she was entering was somehow worse still. It looked like it hadn’t ever seen a day of well-repair. They take her through a set of heavy looking doors with more rust than she had seen in the wreck-yard they had by-passed.

A copper tinge wept from the opened entryway.

It wasn’t the copper of a factory. No, it was the copper of blood.

 If only the scent was powerful enough to wake her sleeping body. It roused her mind well enough. The woman carrying her muttered something that sounded so far away. With that incoherent jumble of words, they stripped her of her clothing and laid her on a terribly chilly and dreadfully dirty operating table. She could feel the crust of old blood scratching at her back. She felt sick, her gag reflex was kicking in, but not enough for her to actually lurch up and act upon it. Even if it had been enough, the woman was strapping her down. Probably a precautionary measure.

 She could hear footsteps, the sound was muffled through fear and shishru venom. It mixed with the wails of men and women in the same grisly position as she. The footsteps came closer and closer still, until a man loomed directly over her.

 “This one is going to be worth a fortune.” She was certain she had heard him right.

 “You don’t snatch up a royal every day.” The woman agreed. They sounded like they were underwater.

 She saw her captor lift a blade and a scalpel. Her heart hammered in her chest, she wondered how long it would do that for. Not long, she imagined. She could hear a cry from another room, followed by a tearing and sucking sound. The scream began to bleed into the slurping noises. Azula’s heart  beat harder still and she savored it, because soon its dying beat would be in someone’s palm rather than in her chest.

 Her breathing was growing ragged as the scalpel came closer. And she felt the sharp, cold sting of it digging into her skin. It would seem that they were opening her stomach first, that was probably the easiest thing to do—though she didn’t know anything about slicing a body. The pain was searing, white-hot, as the blade dragged downward.

All too late, feeling returned to her limbs, she could twitch her fingers and toes. Reflexively her body convulsed against the pain. It deterred her captors only a little. They resumed quickly.

 “You’re going to be a difficult one aren’t you?” The man with the scalpel asked. He knew the answer already.

 “Am I?” She asked weakly.

 He moved the blade away from her belly and positions it beneath her eye. Her own blood dripped onto her cheek and drizzled warmly down. Azula’s lip twitched into a smile as weak as her voice. “I am, yes.” She confirmed before drawing in a deep breath.

 He realized that he’d been standing too close much too late. She released her breath in a river of blue flame. It hurt her stomach terribly, but it had done its job. The man was on the floor writing, clutching his face.

 His companions went to him. And as they did, Azula decided to do something a little more drastic. The fight was leaving her, she was growing woozy. But she would die fighting. She closed her eyes and brought the flames to her lips. She spilled them over her own left arm, until the strap binding it had burned away.

 It was a tricky feat to undo the other strap with a freshly roasted limb, but she freed herself.

Her captors are on her in only moments.

 It didn’t hurt, not that she could recall. Pain seemed like background fuzz under layers of adrenaline and survival instinct. She threw them off a few at a time as they pounced her. Her head was pounding, her attention pulled in so many directions. For the first time in her life, she wasn’t sure exactly what she was doing; there was no thought, no careful plan. Just action and instinct.

 She didn’t know how, but she was surrounded by bloodied, unconscious foes and perhaps a body or two. She stumbled back, crashing herself into a cart of operating supply and she toppled with it.

It had been a good fight; at least they hadn’t the pleasure of killing her.

 Her hand fell upon the opening in her stomach and she tried feebly to hold it together, that late in the game, it was only an illusion of usefulness. It was comforting to gauge, that the slash wasn’t quite as deep as she had thought.

 .oOo.

 She woke up to a thumping behind her ears. A throbbing in her chest. She wanted to cry because the beat is where it belonged. A feeble hand fell over her chest, she savored the rhythm that thudded against her palm.  

 Azula didn’t know how. She was almost certain that she was a dead woman. But her heart. Her heart, it was beating so strongly.

 Her vision blurred and she felt herself fading again. She is afraid to fall into the dark because she wasn’t sure that she would be able to leave it again. But it dragged her under. The only comfort she had, the only reassurance that the night hadn’t swallowed her completely were small sound tidbits and hard to decipher sensory cues. If she could guess she would have said that a cool, wet rag dabbed at her forehead, that someone took her hand, that someone was running their hand over her hair.

 She woke again, that time the awakening was more pleasant. Her heartbeat was still reassuringly steady. There was a chilly sensation at her belly, but it was relaxing. A tingle instead of a stinging. She wasn’t alone this time. Not as alone as the first time.  Her brother, her mother, Katara, and TyLee were the faces she picked out. Katara was in the middle of a healing, so the soothing sensation was accounted for. Her mother was gripping her hand, rubbing her thumb up and down. Zuko stood next to their mother with a bowl of what she assumed was soup. TyLee was on the bed with her, her hand caressing Azula’s cheek; her heartbeat picked up.

 She opened her mouth but she didn’t know what to say nor what to ask. Instead she used her free hand to take TyLee’s, a physical gesture seemed easier. A small way to let them know that she was awake and aware.  TyLee gave a soft smile. The hand she clutched with was bandaged and pieces began to come back to her. She had saved herself…and then what?

 So came the first question, “how did you find me?”

 “We’ve been tracking the black market for a while now.” Zuko informed her. That much she had already known.

 “I was in charge of that, remember Zuzu?” She realized that her question had been equally as silly. Of course the black market sellers would have been the prime suspects in her disappearance.

 “We looked through a lot of your notes and consulted with Toph’s police squad, the common consensus was that their hideout was somewhere on the volcano’s rim.”

 “From there, we just followed the screaming.” TyLee added.

 “You did a good number on those guys.” Katara noted.

 “Good.” Azula grumbled. “They wanted my heart.”

 Zuko practically snorted, “they wouldn’t have found it.”

 Her eyes narrowed. “Thanks, Zuzu.” She hated to admit it, but it was a clever jest and she needed the humor.

 TyLee snuggled closer, nuzzling against Azula taking the care to avoid disturbing her injuries.  “I’m glad we found you, Azula.”

 Azula moved the girl’s hand and let it rest over her heart. That seemed somehow reassuring to her. Frankly she was glad to have been found, and—more or less—in one piece. She felt TyLee’s lips brush the crook of her neck, a sensation she had missed terribly. She was reminded more deeply, that her heart was still where it belonged.

[toxicityrp]

                      GINGER ● THE RUNAWAY ● CLOSED

       ❝ This beauty is just as fleeting as the word that   describes her. She’s been places but you really can’t   fuckin’ tell where. She’s a sight to see at the Garden    and the Vices. My preference? The Forbidden Vices                        Club for sure! ❞

THE SINNER. TW: IMPLIED EMOTIONAL ABUSE, MURDER, PTSD

Carmen was born a poor suburb on Long Island—an area off the coast of Manhattan, where poor was relative but all the same, they struggled. Carmen’s earliest memories were of darkness. The colour of night, the colour the room was without electricity, the colour of a flame in the darkness. Rent was hard to make and bills were harder. Both of her parents worked full time; every now and then, some relative would come and stand-in. Mostly, Carmen grew up knowing the word ‘want,’ knowing what it was to be without something. It wasn’t all terrible, but it was formative.

Her parents managed lower middle class by high school, but it was of little comfort to Carmen: they found a note her girlfriend had written her in her trash can. Confronting her, Carmen didn’t have the right words, then—not that it would have mattered. Bisexual was just as bad as gay, to her parents, regardless. At seventeen, she was disowned and kicked out of her house. She relied on the kindness of friends and strangers, couch surfing to finish her last year of high school, but she wound up relying also a little too heavily on alcohol to get her by.

Carmen didn’t actually get to finish high school, making a mess of the kindnesses she’d been shown. Without an education and without any true allies, Carmen moved out to Brooklyn and got a shit one bedroom apartment she split with three other girls. She didn’t have the experience or skills to live on her own, but she picked them up—she had a charming smile, after all. Carmen made her way, at first, as a grifter and a thief, hustling tourists in Manhattan and stealing whatever didn’t make ends meet. She was poor, but then again, that’s all she’d ever known, and she had bottles of moonshine for company.

She had dreams, as teenagers often do, of being a singer—and she was pretty good at it, but she didn’t have the connections to make it happen. Scraping her life together left little time to get gigs or plan for a future. From her bedroom in southern Gravesend, she could hear the sounds of Coney Island taunting her with a jubilation she couldn’t feel. Carmen grew jealous of her flatmates, whom she assumed were trust fund kids, able to lay about all day in the apartment laughing and drinking while she was on the streets hustling. After a comment she couldn’t help slip, they fixed her assumption.

They told her they were pros, and were willing to show her the ropes. Learning to separate love and sex in order to survive didn’t seem like that bad an option at the time: she was eighteen and alone and these girls were the closest thing she had to a family any more. It was more work than Carmen expected, learning how to adapt to each client, putting on a show, learning how to act half in love with everyone she met. The learning curve was steep, but Carmen found it worth it. She made connections in bed she couldn’t have made slumming it from venue to venue with a tune in her heart.

And who said sleeping your way to the top wasn’t hard work?

Carmen was a natural, a Coney Island queen. She got a regular, a promoter who helped her get gigs and soon she was performing on stages as well as in bedrooms with songs for each. At one of the venues, Carmen met the friend of the owner, a man named Salvatore who took a liking to her—and she to him. Her work transitioned from the streets into the strip club, where he promised her she didn’t have to do extras. Their relationship also included some sugaring, which she delighted in—for the first time—feeling spoiled by someone else. Having her needs not only met but her wants indulged.

For a girl of 21, this was heaven, and she still got to perform her songs once a week for anyone who’d come to listen. She conflated money, power, and attention with love—but it was her first requited love. And like anyone in love, Carmen had more than a few blinders up around Salvatore and how he ran his strip club, the Dollhouse. While she loved making connections to get where she wanted to go, charming the right people and saying the right words, she didn’t understand the darker side to such connections yet. For years, for the wildness of her 20s, Carmen was lost to the lights and the liquor and the glory.

Around the time Carmen was 25, her music career really kicked off. She received an offer to record and album and took a lot of time in the studio to get it right, though she was very nervous about it. Unfortunately, it took her time away from Salvatore and his club and he was very protective of her, to the point where Carmen felt suffocated. It almost seemed like he was trying to sabotage her music career just to keep her under his thumb. She broke off her relationship and arrangements with Salvatore, thinking it was that easy in a world where men like him always got what they wanted.

Shortly after, she found the producer she’d been working with dead.  Two in the back of the head.

Carmen wasn’t naiive. She knew she had to get out—out of her apartment, out of this life, and get far, far away, to some little town she’d never get found in. Dertosa fit the bill: across the country and often overlooked by the rest of the world, full of curious figures and drenched in mystery. Carmen thought she could run and recreate herself there. Her dreams of being a singer were lost perhaps forever to the PTSD that ripped through her as a result of that moment, but she’d been through hard times before and would make herself strong again. She just had to get out. And so Carmen disappeared in Dertosa.

After the midnight move, Carmen made sure to clean up after her trail. She took a job at Forbidden Vices doing what she loved second-best: stripping. The Drinks became her family; they named her Ginger, because she was a mixer who went well with everything and everyone. For 4 years, Carmen hung up her dreams and aimed instead for safety, only slowly, so slowly, learning to exhale and look over her shoulder a little less. That is, until last year; she had the misfortune of meeting Eve. Eve herself wasn’t the issue, but apparently Eve knew Salvatore, and Salvatore was not a quiet man when licking his wounds. Eve had half a mind to throw Carmen over to him for a favour—but Carmen begged her not to.

The only way Eve operated was to never give something for nothing, which is how Carmen came into a three year contract as a Flower: the price of Eve’s silence, the price of Carmen’s freedom. Being a Flower was more emotionally degrading than anything she’d done before, but if she could really be free of Salvatore after, it would be worth it. And if worse came to worse, well, Carmen wasn’t a little girl any more. Stripped bare of her dreams, if it came down to it, Carmen would end Salvatore. This, she knew in her heart. She’d find a way to freedom by word or by deed, one way or another.

And in the meanwhile, she’s Eve’s little spy inside Forbidden Vices. Sure, Carmen goes out as a Flower when the price is right, will strip at parties, will be arm candy or the girlfriend experience per her expertise—but the real boon for Eve was winning a Flower at her beck and call that was entrenched body and soul in another sanction. Except now, Carmen’s soul was sold to Eve. So when Eve says jump, Carmen says how high… though jumping is rarely the dirty work Eve has in mind. And so Carmen remains a stripper at Forbidden Vices, not the head dancer, but one you don’t want to miss.

THE FACTS.

Carmen is personable, sweet, flirtatious, and playful. She’s charismatic and outgoing, easy to talk to, easy to approach others. Carmen is genuinely observant and attentive, the kind of person who notes your favourite soup and brings it to you if you are sick, or picks up a gift “just because” you mentioned you liked it in passing and she was thinking of you. She’s a sunshine sort of girl, on the surface, but she hides a bitter heart. Love is a missile, and people will do a lot for those they love; so Carmen loves to have people love her. Nothing turns faster, though, than love betrayed—so she needs to make certain no one finds out exactly what she’s up to, or at least, the extent of whom exactly she sold out for what. Secrets and favours will take you farther than money, in the right hands. Dancing is a prime job for an informant and spy; it’s a passing place between strangers, people who assume they’ll never see you again, or will pretend not to know you if they do. They’re here to vent, to feel seen and loved, and to move on. A client will tell you anything if you phrase the question right. They make the mistake of seeing dancers as unimportant. Carmen doesn’t at all mind playing second fiddle to the head dancer at Vices—it’s better for her to be just out of the spotlight, anyway. In a way, Carmen has grown up in the gutter but always had rose coloured glasses; the kind of perspective that believed the best in the world and also in others. Even when grit showed itself to her, she believed that people were just doing whatever they needed to get by. She could never blame someone for the methods and defenses they created to survive; Lord knows she had enough of her own. Lying, stealing, cheating—these were soft offenses to Carmen, things that were—if need be—revocable. She didn’t take what the person couldn’t get more of, metaphorically; she didn’t take lives. A life, you can’t give back.

THE MUN.

☾ May | EST | She/Her

[theantthatwrites]

Newton’s Cradle (short story)

Note: I’m new to tumblr so I’m not exactly sure how to format correctly. Specifically, the paragraphs turn into separated blocks, and all italicization disappears. I apologize ahead of time for any confusion this may cause.

Clack, clack, clack, clack.

The silver spheres of the Newton’s Cradle on my desk clashed in a soothing rhythm. On the television in the corner of my office, CIN News recounted the important events happening in the world.

“The death toll continues to rise as more and more people fall victim to the devastating disease popularly known as ‘Copper Lung.’ Medical professionals and scientists continue to search for the, as of yet, unknown cure for the sickness. Hundreds of thousands of deaths have already been reported across the country.”

I sat there listening in annoyance as the reporter droned on. The news was never the place to go for a happy story, but now it was getting out of hand. Every hour of every day, it seemed the only thing being talked about was Copper Lung. Ever since it first appeared within that Detroit construction worker six months ago, cases of it began to spring up like weeds. A mother here, a child there. CEO, homeless, student, the disease almost didn’t care who you were or where you came from. Almost. There was an exception; one that nobody overlooked.

The news went to commercial break and a political advertisement played. T’rella Qouretz was running for mayor. She seemed like every politician to me, making empty promises to improve everyone’s way of life, while almost assuredly changing nothing if she were to get elected. The only difference being she was a rylekian, an alien species so considerately known to the wide world of bigots as “space hobos.” She didn’t try to hide it either, not that she could have. Anyone could see her magenta colored skin, pointed ears, short stature, and green, cat-like eyes from a mile away.

She’s fighting an uphill battle, I thought.

The rylekians have had a rough go at it ever since landing on our planet a hundred years ago, and it hasn’t gotten much better. They’re treated with hatred and distrust, often forced to live in slums. Many end up beaten, or face down in a gutter due to interactions with humans. They’re spit on, ridiculed, and discriminated against. I don’t know how bad life was like on their home planet for them to flee, but there’s no way it could have been as terrible as it is for them here.

My sister treated them differently, though. She would often cry whenever she heard the latest horror story happening to the rylekians. She cared for the aliens and would often volunteer at shelters that assisted them. To her, they were the same as any of us.

I looked at the clock on my computer. 6:50 PM.

Ten more minutes and I can go home, I mused in anticipation.

It’s been a slow week. Nobody’s ever said private investigating was always steady work, but I could typically get at least a few cases every week. I didn’t let it get to me, though. I needed a vacation. I’ve been known to overwork myself from time to time.

I drummed my fingers on my desk, watching the spheres of my Newton’s Cradle rock back and forth. My sister gave it to me as a gift when I left the police force and decided to start my own investigation service, away from the bureaucracy of the department. She said every office needs one. At first I thought it was stupid, but now I’ve grown to like the silly desk toy. I made sure to let her know of my change of heart before it was too late.

Knock, knock, knock.

The sound came from the door. “Mr. Reese,” cried the voice of my secretary, Suzie, from the other side. “A potential client is here to see you.”

I glanced at the clock once again. It mockingly showed 6:59. I sighed and requested Suzie send the person in. I pondered if I should tell Suzie to no longer allow new clients to visit past quarter of seven.

The door squeaked open on its hinges, revealing Suzie with her long, curly blonde hair. “Right this way, ma'am,” she called to an unseen woman. A figure wearing a long, hooded black coat cautiously walked in. The person was short, shorter than your average person. Beneath the figure’s hood, I glimpsed magenta skin.

“Thank you, Suzie. You may go home, I’ll lock up when I’m done here.”

The secretary saluted me, a motion she often made, seemingly as a joke. While not particularly funny, it was kinda cute seeing the sweet girl make such an absurdly out of place gesture. She softly closed the door to my office, causing a slight click.

The rylekian lowered her hood once Suzie had left. I was taken slightly aback.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as someone who’d take such precautions to hide their features,” I remarked. “You seem quite proud of them on T.V., Ms. Qouretz.”

“Pride shouldn’t take precedence over safety,” the politician so firmly informed me. “When I’m campaigning I have protection. Security is there in case anyone tries to harm me. In private matters such as these, however…” she trailed. “It’s not exactly the wisest decision for a rylekian to wander alone in areas densely populated by humans. A rylekian woman even less so.”

I couldn’t argue with her logic. It’s gotten so bad that if a rylekian shows up dead in a human neighborhood, the rylekian is the one blamed for being where they shouldn’t have been.

“So what is it you need, Ms. Qouretz,” I inquired as I turned off the television. “It must be something important for you to so blatantly risk your well-being.”

T’rella nodded gravely. Her shoulder length, pink-violet hair shook slightly with the effort.

“How good are you at finding missing people, Mr. Reese,” she asked. I shrugged. “I’ve yet to fail whenever I’m asked to look for someone. Granted, they’re not always alive, but I find them. Why, who’re you looking for?”

The politician looked at her feet while rubbing the back of her neck, obviously trying to find the right words. “I doubt you know this,” she said suddenly after a long pause, “but many of my people have gone missing in this city. Most of them lived in the slum known as Idleberg. Dozens have disappeared without a trace. The news doesn’t report on it due to it being a crime against rylekians, which doesn’t rouse the interest of human viewers.”

T’rella Qouretz’s fists clenched. “Others, including myself, have brought up the disappearances to the authorities, but they only respond with the obligatory, ‘We’ll look into it when we can,’ the liars.” She took on a very solemn expression. “I swear if I’m elected, things will be different. My people will be equals in Chicago.”

I couldn’t help but admire the woman’s determination. I was shocked to realize that she actually wanted to change things for the better, and wasn’t just saying things she believed the public wanted to hear, like other politicians do. My sister would have liked her.

It left a bitter taste in my mouth knowing that the woman’s hopes will be crushed, that she’ll never get elected. Even if every rylekian in Chicago, along with whatever few humans were sympathetic to their plight, voted for T’rella Qouretz, I doubted she’d be elected. It didn’t matter if she was a better candidate. Hatred has quite the blinding effect.

“I’ve heard,” T’rella continued, “that you are good at what you do and aren’t against helping rylekians. That you actually see us as people. Since you didn’t immediately throw me out of your office, I see that’s the case. So, please, will you help find the missing rylekians from Idleberg?”

I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “Honestly, Ms. Qouretz, as long as you’re paying, you could be a giraffe for all I care.”

The politician smiled.

The next night I went to Idleberg, making note of it in my files, as I did with every place I visited for work. Like every slum the rylekians were forced to live in, it was an absolute dump. It smelled of rotten fish, sweat, and excrement, all mixed together to create something truly awful. Then there was the smog. Idleberg was situated near a factory of some kind, tainting the air with its presence.

I held my breath as much as I could, and walked the streets of the slum. All around me were rylekians. Each one, young or old, male or female, had the same look of defeat on their face. As I walked by, they eyed me with obvious suspicion. After all, why would a human visit a place such as this? I didn’t think I was in any real danger. Most rylekians were wise enough to not mess with a human, knowing full well the retaliation they’d receive if the attack were to become known. Even still, I couldn’t help but pat the pistol I kept hidden in my coat when on the job. I didn’t mean any harm to the unfortunate occupants of Idleberg, but they didn’t know that.

I walked up to a small, one story building with boarded up windows. I looked at the address on the battered mailbox next to the door to make sure I was in the right place. It said 122 Sunflower Street, just as T’rella said it would. I knocked on the metal door, noticing that there was once a doorbell to the side of it, but was torn out.

After a few moments, the door opened a crack. In the small opening, I could see a yellow, cat-like eye staring back at me. It opened wider and in the doorway I saw a rylekian man. He had the light, blue-violet skin exclusive, I knew, to the males of his species, just as the magenta skin was a feature inherent to the females. Being able to see his full face, I noticed his eyes were wet with red coloration around them. He had been crying.

“Are you the one Miss Qouretz sent,” the man asked, sniffling a bit.

I nodded. “That I am. May I come in?”

The sorrowful man moved aside, making room for me to walk past. I emerged into a room dimly lit by candles. I guessed the building didn’t have electricity. The room was modestly furnished. Very modestly.

The home’s owner motioned to a nearby stool, torn and with the cotton spilling from the top. When I sat on it, it rocked due to uneven legs.

The rylekian grabbed a dirty cloth and blew his nose into it while sitting on another nearby stool. “Your species are real bastards, you know that,” he asked, obviously not expecting a response, nor did I give him one. “First you kill my wife, and now you take my son! We haven’t done anything to you!”

I leaned forward in the stool, resting my head on my knuckles. “Are you sure it was a human who took your son,” I inquired calmly.

“Who else could it have fucking been,” the distressed father exclaimed, possibly taking offence from what could potentially be seen as an offensive question to those unfamiliar with my work. He began to divulge what he knew, angrily, but coherently. I listened quietly and intently, allowing him to vent any frustration he was feeling.

“I told him not to take that job,” the rylekian father remarked, “but he didn’t listen. I told him people have been disappearing around that area but he didn’t care.” The man sobbed. “My boy wanted to earn us some money. That’s all he wanted. To help his father by getting us some dinner. And then they fucking took him from me, dammit!” The rylekian wiped his eyes with the same dirty cloth he blew his nose into earlier. If my sister had seen him, I’m sure she’d have hugged him.

The father continued his explanation. “I bet his boss, Cromley, I think his name was, had something to do with it.”

I decided to interject there. “Who’s Cromley? What does he do?”

The rylekian grimaced. “He runs that big factory that makes some kind of mechanical parts. I’m sure you saw it. It creates so much smog that you can hardly see outside some days. Most of the people who disappeared vanished around the factory. I know that bastard had a hand in it. Please, talk to him and get him to confess.” The miserable father’s eyes lit up. “Tell me when he does too. Please.”

I followed the lead and visited this Cromley at his factory. What exactly was being made there, I couldn’t tell you. It could have been anything from car parts to refrigerators. The cacophony I was greeted with made my ears ring and battered my brain. Hearing myself think, let alone someone talking, was out of the question. Nevertheless, I managed to communicate to one of the primarily rylekian workforce that I wished to speak to his boss. He led me up a flight of metal stairs to a tiny office overlooking the entire operation. I thanked my guide, but I wasn’t positive he heard me.

I knocked on the door but couldn’t be sure if that would work. I couldn’t even hear the knock myself. My fears were alleviated when the door suddenly swung open, revealing a giant, round man standing angrily in front of me. He motioned me inside and quickly shut the door.

Thankfully, the small office of Cromley must of had some sort of sound proofing, for the blare of the factory became a mild buzz. My host took a seat behind his desk. There wasn’t another chair.

“Who the hell are you,” Cromley so politely asked. Cromley must have been the largest man I had ever seen in my life. I’m pretty sure you could have fit three grown adults in his shirt and still had room to move around. His face and head were completely shaven. His scalp shined brightly in the light, visibly damp with sweat.

“My name is Malcolm Reese,” I replied. “I wanted to ask you about the recent disappearances of rylekians. I’ve heard that many vanished around your factory.”

“And let me guess,” Cromley said, clearly agitated, “you think I had something to do with it?” The factory owner suddenly began to cough violently into his hand. I thought I could glimpse blood in his palm when he was finished. He wiped the gunk onto his denim pants.

“I just want information. Nothing more, nothing less,” I informed my host.

“Then listen close,” Cromley barked. “I had nothing to do with those missing space hobos. Why the fuck would I want to get rid of my own damn workers? I want the culprit found as much as you do! Do you know how much money I’m fucking losing because of this?”

Cromley began to sweat even more profusely. Another coughing fit overtook him, worse than the previous one. His eyes watered as red clearly leaked from between his fingers. He looked at the blood in his hand in disgust. I knew what was wrong.

I crossed my arms. “How long do you have,” I asked the dying man.

“Who the fuck knows,” Cromley answered, his words tinged with a hint of sadness.

That was usually the case with Copper Lung. If you got it, you could have anywhere from a few days, to a few months to live. Nobody could ever say for sure. My sister had three weeks.

Copper Lung was miraculously not believed to be contagious, so I wasn’t in any danger of catching it. I continued to question Cromley.

“Even if you weren’t involved, surely you know something that could help me. The disappearances took place near your factory. Dozens of them. You must have noticed something out of the ordinary. Anything at all.”

Cromley bashed his ham of a fist against his desk, making everything on top tremble.

“I told you, I don’t know anything! I even checked the security footage, didn’t see a damn thing.”

My curiosity was piqued. “Mind if I see the footage?”

The large man clicked a few times on his computer and then handed me a disc. “If it gets you out of my office,” he said.

I watched the footage at home. I stared at the screen for hours, all the while sipping a cup of black coffee. It was an addiction I couldn’t manage to overcome.

Cromley was correct. The security cameras didn’t pick up anything suspicious. To the average person. I, however, was experienced in this kind of thing. Among the ordinary footage of rylekians walking to and from the factory, a van could be seen driving by. This wouldn’t normally raise any alarms, but I noticed this exact van appeared multiple times in the footage. It could be nothing, maybe this street was just on the van’s regular route. However, the sheer number of times it appeared rubbed me the wrong way. I decided to follow my instincts and slow down the footage to inspect the van. In blurry letters, I saw the words, “New Hope Pharmaceuticals.”

Early the next day, after noting it in my files, I decided to pay New Hope Pharmaceuticals a visit. It was located near the center of Chicago, surrounded by various other businesses. The building was a massive skyscraper, lined with shining glass windows. Their logo, a fox lying upon the company name, could be seen on the white vans surrounding the premises. The same van seen so many times outside of Cromley’s factory.

I watched the vans as nonchalantly as I could, figuring out where they went as they returned. From where I stood, I saw most vans entered a tunnel that headed underground, barred off by a guard operating a boom gate. If I was going to get any answers, they would be down there.

I left New Hope Pharmaceuticals and returned in the middle of the night, suspecting the cover of darkness would work to my advantage. My strategy worked, as there were far less eyes around, and I was able to sneak past the gate guard with ease. Thankfully, he didn’t take his job very seriously. Instead of looking out for any unwanted visitors, he focused all of his attention on his phone, laughing at something or other.

I stuck to the shadows as best as I could and made my way down the tunnel. From behind, an approaching van rumbled. Without hesitation, I quickly hid behind a nearby crate and waited for it to pass. I held my breath, hoping I was fast enough for them not to see me. When they passed, I knew I was safe.

I watched as the van pulled up to a metal gate that was situated off the main path. The words, “Restricted Access,” were illuminated on a sign above. The driver input a code on a nearby keypad, slowly opening the gate. I snuck closer, carefully staying out of sight, trying to catch a better glimpse as to what was on the other side of the gate.

In the chamber was various instruments, some obviously meant for creating medicines, but others with not so clear purposes. Humans in white lab coats ran back and forth, inspecting vials and calculating data. Nothing too out of the ordinary yet. Right before the gate shut, however, something terrible caught my eye. The rear doors of the van I followed into the depths beneath the building were opened by the driver and in the back were three rylekians, tied and gagged.

Before I had a chance to act, I felt a shock and everything went black. When I came to, I saw that I was sat up in a chair, but not strapped. Still weak, I gazed meekly at my surroundings. Submissive looking rylekians were kept in cages, dozens of them, all appearing to be drugged. Pinned to various boards were scans of lungs. Half of them were discolored and seemed to be almost metallic. I knew immediately they were afflicted with Copper Lung, for I had seen images just like them when my sister was diagnosed.

The other half of the lung images were shaped differently, not human. They also seemed perfectly healthy, from my limited medical knowledge. While never having seen a picture of them before, I made the educated guess that they were rylekian lungs. A feeling of unease washed over me like a waterfall, so I searched for comfort in my gun. It, of course, was taken while I was out cold, to my dismay.

“I’m sorry, but you’ll get it back once it’s clear you aren’t a threat to anyone here.”

I turned and saw a middle-aged man in round glasses and a white lab coat holding my pistol. He had a look of exhaustion, with purple, heavy bags under his eyes. He had a name tag that said, “Howard Jones,” pinned to his coat.

“Now, I must ask,” the scientist continued, “what were you doing armed in an area clearly marked, ‘Restricted Access?’”

I remained silent, only staring at Jones.

Howard Jones sighed. “Look, I’m trying to help you. To do that, I need to know why you’re here. If you don’t have any malicious intentions, you can be on your way. No harm done.”

I nodded towards the nearby cages holding the kidnapped rylekians. “Why are they here?”

Jones’ face scrunched up with a look of confusion. “Those animals,” he asked. “They’re going to help us with our experiments. Why do you ask? Is there a problem?”

I was astonished. He was speaking of intelligent beings as no more than creatures at a zoo. I knew there were plenty of people out there who thought like him, but this man was a scientist. I thought the smart ones were past prejudices.

“The problem,” I answered, “is that you’re kidnapping people.”

That same confused look remained on Jones’ face. “I don’t know why you’d think that. The only people here are employees of New Hope Pharmaceuticals and volunteers who have been diagnosed with Copper Lung. And now you.”

“Cut the shit,” I snapped. “You know I’m talking about the rylekians!”

Jones removed his glasses and rubbed off a smudge with his shirt. “Space hobos aren’t people, even if the law says otherwise. They are intruders, squatting on our planet. We can barely sustain our own population, and now we need to care for monsters from another world. Thinking that’s possible, let alone desirable, is madness.”

My sister would have been livid if she’d had heard what I just did.

“The only mad one I see is you,” I sneered, crossing my arms.

The scientist was clearly agitated. “May I ask your name?”

“Malcolm,” I barked.

“Malcolm. Have you figured out what we’re doing here, Malcolm,” he inquired. “Why I study countless lung scans every day, and perform numerous experiments? We’re trying to cure the deadliest sickness to hit our species in generations. Have you lost anyone to this disease?”

I looked away.

“Ah,” he responded, noticing my reaction. “Of course you have. It’s becoming more and more rare for someone to not have lost a loved one from it. Personally, I lost my daughter. When that happened, I swore I would find a cure so no one else would need to feel what I felt the day she was buried.

The scientist continued. “Let me tell you how to best find a cure for an ailment. You search for a living creature that the ailment doesn’t affect, and find a way to harness whatever makes them immune for yourself. Do you know what the only creature that we’ve been able to find that’s immune to Copper Lung is?”

I knew.

“Every single one of these space hobos,” Jones said, not waiting for an answer, “you insist on calling ‘people.’ Using these beasts are the best chance we have at survival. So what if a few need to die? As long as we survive, that’s all that matters. If we knew that sooner, and had the guts to do what was necessary, my daughter and whomever you lost may have lived.”

Howard Jones rubbed his temples. “So, what are you going to do, Malcolm? I’m tired and still have a lot to do before I can rest. You can leave here, forget you saw anything, and allow us to save humanity. Or you can try to free a bunch of animals. If you attempt that, though, I can’t guarantee you’ll survive, especially since I’m holding this gun that you so thoughtfully brought. And your sudden appearance means we will cover up everything happening here, no matter what you choose, in case you decided to double cross us or told anyone where you were going. So, what’ll it be?”

I crossed my arms and smiled, noticing a Newton’s Cradle clacking away on the nearby desk.