#she would devour the medical field

[wishfulina]

Where is the apothecary diaries hospital drama au? What do you mean a modern au would take place in an office.

The hoes would be in House MD or something equally insane.

[blues824]

I've got a black butler request(if your still taking any) :

Black butler characters(your choice) with riddle rosehearts like s/o relationships (if it's not to much)

Lords and Butlers, y’all. Gender-neutral reader.

Ciel Phantomhive

You were a renowned practicing doctor, as well as a noble in your own right. Honestly, no one was able to tell that you came from somewhere else unless they saw how odd your manor was. You had knowledge of the different types of tea, you were aware of proper etiquette, and you were often employed by the Queen.

That’s how you met Ciel. It was at a ball hosted by Her Majesty, and the young Phantomhive Lord noticed how you indulged yourself in the strawberry tarts. He walked over and introduced himself, and you both hit it off right away. 

You both were often shamed for your short stature, you were both doubted in your positions because of your young age, and everyone tried to take advantage of you. He had invited you to the Phantomhive Manor the following morning, and he found himself eager and excited throughout the night.

As your meetings became more frequent, Ciel was doubting if he could remain betrothed to Elizabeth because his heart now belonged to you. You just understood him in a way that no one else ever could. You understood how he had so much work because you did as well, you whipped his household into shape with your strictness, and you understood the pressure of working under the Queen.

Eventually, you both began courting. Lizzie saw how happy you made him, so she gave the two of you her blessing and she broke off the engagement. There were no harsh feelings, and the entire staff had to admit that having you around was a blessing. Laundry was done properly, food was cooked the right way, no china was ever broken, the garden was in pristine condition, and everyone was super healthy.

You’ve even cured Ciel’s asthma, which he is grateful for. He still uses his cane out of habit, and also because it could also be used as a weapon. Sebastian is grateful, since it doesn’t put such a strain on his master’s endurance and durability.

You both help each other with certain cases, since you both were often employed as a team. Oftentimes, you have to gently remind him that not getting sleep isn’t beneficial for your investigation, and it’s one of the only times where he sees you as soft and kind. Other times, you are scolding Mey-rin, Finny, and Bard for their incompetence.

Sebastian Michaelis

He has heard about you because your reputation precedes you as the best doctor in the world. However, he was aware that you used a magic that wasn’t of this dimension, but rather a more fantastical and whimsical magic imbued in your patients’ tea.

You were formally introduced to each other when you and Ciel were assigned by the Queen to work on a case together. Your short stature was quite amusing to him because he had to bend over to place a kiss upon the back of your hand.

Sebastian only teases, but he never doubts your knowledge in the medical field. After all, people who were just on their deathbed feel as though they were as fresh as a daisy after being treated by you. He could tell that your intentions were pure, unlike everyone else in the realm of nobility.

As the two of you got closer, he found himself wondering if you could ever manage to love him, even if he told you that he was a demon who was going to devour Ciel’s soul once the contract was complete and both sides were met. He had told you, and you didn’t have a very negative reaction besides having a few questions. This gave him a feeling he hadn’t felt in a while: hope.

Eventually, he asked if you would agree to enter into a courtship with him, and his undead heart was pounding as you accepted. Nothing much changed besides the fact that you became a frequent visitor at the Phantomhive Manor. Only the residents knew that you were in a relationship with Sebastian. Everyone else thought that you were busy working on a case with Ciel.

You often helped out with the chores. You and your beloved demon split the tasks: he would help Bard in the kitchen, you would help Mey-rin with cleaning, and the both of you would help Finny in the garden. It took a huge load of stress, and you both took turns serving the master’s tea since you both were very good at it.

The first time he experienced your short temper was when another guest came and started indirectly insulting you and Ciel because ‘you were both too young for the power that either of you held’. You walked up to the old man and slapped him, questioning his audacity. Sebastian was very amused, and the guy was properly dealt with later.

Alois Trancy

He has heard of you through the whispers on the streets whenever he went on errands with Claude. You had built your reputation yourself, with your own hands. No one viewed you in a negative light because you were a doctor. It wasn’t considered new money if you were saving lives.

You actually met at a ball that was being hosted by the Queen for the nobility that was currently in England. He thought you were absolutely adorable as you stuffed your mouth with sweet strawberry tarts. Before you could get another one, he reached out and grabbed it so as to grab your attention.

It was through that one conversation that he got to learn so much about you. He learned about how you decided to help the advancement of medical technology since you came from a realm that was a bit more modern. Every patient you saw was cured, so that’s how you got into a good place among everyone.

Just a few weeks later, Alois decided to act on an impulse and ask you to begin a courtship with him, and he was in a state of pure bliss when he received the letter that you accepted his request. His attitude had improved, and he wasn’t as susceptible to lashing out.

Once you had gone over to visit and check up on him, he was attached to you at the hip. You couldn’t go anywhere within the manor without him. He insisted upon being at your side at every waking moment, claiming that it was ‘for you to make sure that he was healthy and alright’. In reality, he just loved you very much.

If you tried to help out with chores, Alois would be very upset since nobility wasn’t supposed to do anything as lowly and filthy as that. Instead, you should be hanging out with him and giving him all of your love and affection! He acts like a jealous puppy who has the power of a very powerful demon backing him up.

I feel like you don’t get into horrible fights, but he does sometimes get on your nerves and becomes insufferable at times. This causes a yelling match between the two of you, which ends up in you making your way back to your house, and him sulking in the corner because he already misses you.

Claude Faustus

He has also heard of you through the whispers in the streets, and he was quite intrigued. From what he has gathered, you are young but exceedingly intelligent, paired with known for having a short temper that goes unrivaled by even the Queen herself.

You both met at one of the Queen’s balls. Alois thought you were interesting because you had a lot of strawberry tarts on your plate, so he dragged Claude behind him as he made his way to introduce himself to you. The young Trancy lord got bored after a few minutes and walked away, but his butler was all too immersed in the conversation.

He learned that you came from a different world entirely, and here is where you decided to start up your medical practice because you were familiar with a healing type of magic, and you had knowledge of the medicinal practices that the Victorian era could use at the moment. The first patient you had ever treated was another noble, who was dying before you treated them. They decided to fund your cause, and that’s how you were there now.

Claude was facing a dilemma. He tried to convince himself that you meant nothing to him and that you were just another human, but you lived within his mind as well as his cold, undead heart. You had recently visited the Phantomhive Manor, and as you told him about the fun time you had with Ciel and Sebastian, he couldn’t help the feeling of envy crawling into his skin.

A few days later, he asked if you would accept his request to court you. He was surprised when you accepted, since he wasn’t the most loveable (demon) person. He was very happy, don’t get him wrong. Alois seemed angry that you managed to snag his butler’s attention but he wasn’t.

I feel like you both made a very interesting couple. You both are very serious and down-to-earth, leaving no room to think of the future. You’re busy being a doctor and he’s busy being the butler of Alois. So, you decide to ask for permission to set up your base of operations in the Trancy Manor which could end up increasing the wealth of the family name, so Alois allowed it. This way, you were able to spend more time with Claude.

The first time he experienced your anger was when Alois slapped Hannah for almost no reason. You saw this as unfair since she was following every rule, so you used magic to freeze the young Trancy master from causing anymore trouble. Claude was amused, but he kept it to himself.

[froggibus]

Hi there! If requests are still open, would it be alright if I requested HC’s for D.Va, Mei, Sombra, and Mercy with an S/O who’s a writer?

Thank you!! You rock! Keep up the amazing work!

Writer S/O Headcanons - D.Va, Mercy, Mei & Sombra

Genre: fluff!

Pairing: D.Va x gn! reader, Mercy x gn! reader, Mei x gn! reader, Sombra x gn! reader

CW: mostly fluff, some canon/implied canon things (we love our doctor/science women), i'm horrible at writing sombra (sorry)

been a while since i did an OW request, haven't touched the game since the beginning of Dec since i don't play for a team rn & hate the direction the game is going :( but i love the characters so its a dilemma lol anyway enjoy!!!

(also!!! i am once again bothering you guys to vote in this poll if you haven't already. your input matters to me vv much & would love to hear about what you want for our valentines event this year!)

D.Va:

literally your biggest fan

she always supports your writing no matter what & definitely shares it on her stream

will probably just game while you’re writing 

she gets loud sometimes but she tries her best to stay quiet so you can focus

does her best to read your writing but she has such a short attention span she just can’t sometimes

will write little hearts and stars on her favorite passages in your writing 

brings you lots of snacks and drinks!! makes sure you’re always hydrated and that you don’t work too long

honestly probably gets really distracting sometimes

like reading your writing over your shoulder or tapping her nails on the desk really loudly

“Hana…”

“sorry,” she’ll say sheepishly. “you just have me on the edge of my seat.”

Mercy:

your proofreader/beta reader

she LOVES to read so you know she’ll pick up anything you write and devour it

will lay on the couch with you after work while you write and listen to the taps of your laptop 

“hey, Ang, do you know the word? like the one—the word for—ugh”

“luminescent.”

you’re not sure how she does it but she always manages to read your mind & know exactly what word you’re looking for

also super helpful when you have random medical questions

she’ll break down exactly how you treat a stab wound in a dingy motel for you without batting an eyelash

queen of overworking so she won’t judge you too harshly if you work all night 

but will definitely be there to chastise you with a glass of water in one hand and some plain toast in the other 

Mei:

literally the sweetest ever

always tells you how amazing your work is & recommends it to all her friends

working in the science field she’s always reading scientific journals so your work is a breath of fresh air 

she’ll have a glass of rosé and settle down with your book after a long day

NEVER critiques your work because she thinks you’re the best ever 

probably annotates it with her thoughts while reading it and voices her excitement about it 

asks you a million questions about your work and nods along while you give long winded explanations 

cooks you yummy food & brings you 5 spice hot chocolate to keep your energy up 

snuggled up to you on the couch and listens to you think outloud 

Sombra:

absolute best research buddy

you open your mouth to ask her a writing question and she already has it pulled up in four different browsers 

thoroughly explains everything to you too

through her work she knows a lot about violence and other things

so she’s always willing to answer questions—especially spy + stealth related things 

if anyone ever tries to criticize your work online she’ll literally doxx them

probably hasn’t read much of your work but she makes it up for it in undying support 

you could be writing about murdering a public official and she’d support it 

lets you sit at her desk with her while she works and hums soft songs to you

(if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! comments, likes & rbs are always greatly appreciated ^-^ !!)

masterlist | overwatch masterlist

[emperor-palpaminty]

Bed(side) Manners

Minors DNI- NSFW, but I am vanilla so eh. If your age isn't in your bio and you interact you're getting blocked, sorry babez. It does mention other callsigns hehe (also if y'all have Call Sign name ideas that would be awesome, I'm thinking each COD reader insert will get a call sign)

Female doctor reader ("Doc") x Ghost: part 1 here hehe

Comments/reblogs appreciated! Likes don't do much on Tumblr, sadly. My inbox is also currently open for COD requests if ya want more!

Ghost's foot steps were steady down the hall, but he was moving quickly. He had about fourty-five seconds before his watch read six and he was going to ensure the doctor was off on the dot. He turned the corner, nodding politely at Banshee and Gaz passing by and kept his pace up.

Thirty-two seconds.

He exhaled a bit and glanced around the hall to ensure he was alone. If anyone else spotted him bursting into Doc's office after hours- he didn't really care about himself, but he didn't know how she felt about others knowing or not.

Fifteen seconds.

He dropped his watch as the door came in sight. It always felt slower when he was actually eager for something.

This wasn't his first time seeing the doctor- they had passed on the field and on base many times. She intrigued him. He hummed in thought, pushing aside anything other than lust out of his brain.

His hand pushed open her door with five seconds to spare, and she glanced up from her desk. Her head tilted and her red lips pressed into a smile. "Someone took 'six o' clock' very literally."

"I'm always punctual." Ghost stepped in, slowly, and listened as the door shut behind him. Doc looked back down at the manilla folder in front of her, and he could see her fucking red lips quirk into a smile.

"Half your file is redacted, you know."

"Snooping, doc?" Ghost chuckled, pausing only a couple inches behind her chair. He leaned over the back of the chair, eyes scanning between the top of her head and the open file on the desk in front of her.

Indeed, it was his- much was redacted. As it should be. She hummed noncommittaly as her hands skimmed the edge of the manilla folder, fingers smoothing around a corner of it before she closed it. "Strange man, Riley." She tilted her head backwards and looked up at him, her intelligent eyes skimming over his mask.

Ghost only raised a brow as he looked down at her. The teasing really got him- it was something he enjoyed. Playing with his food, for lack of a better phrase. "Snarky for a doctor. Doesn't make for a good doctor. Bedside manners and all."

She stood from the chair, turning and looking up at him- the same glint stirred in her eye as she looked him over, sizing him up. "Never been good about bedside manners." Doc shrugged off her medical coat, dropping it on the back of the chair. Her lips pressed as she leaned back on the desk, her hands resting on her thighs as she looked him over again. "The bed isn't a good place to practice your good manners."

Ghost managed a chuckle and stepped forward. His hands moved as he strode over, bracing them on either side of her body against the desk- his thumbs brushed the hips of her khakis. "Not even a please? Or a thank you?"

"Why, LT." Doc crossed her arms, leaning back rather comfortably. It was as though she was not sitting between two arms ready to grab, or speaking with lips that looked ready to be devoured. The tension between them was palpable, thick, as she blinked up at him. "You say please in bed?"

Hands scooting closer to her, Ghost leaned in. Eyes locked steadily on his own- concise as surgery, deadly as a wound. "One way to find out."

Her lips quirked again, bold eyes darting down to roughly where his mouth was under his mask. She smiled, sweetly stepping against his hands before guiding him to the door.

---

The bedroom was further off than the barracks- doctors were just lucky that way. Even as he had picked her up, her hands rushing down to his belt, his hips dug into hers and pressed her on the wall next to the door. They had just made it in- by the time they had reached Doc's hall they were all over each other, and now, in the privacy of her own little room...

Ghost's mask was rolled up over his mouth, exposing the fraction of his nose that the mask had come to know- there was a fold in the fabric there, waiting and ready to be pushed back for talking, eating, or using his mouth in other ways.

Her lips were addicting. Ghost could hear the small moans that left her whenever he kissed her or grabbed her, sounds he decided he could get used to. She was hoisted up between the wall and himself, her hands running over his shoulders, his mask, wherever they could to feel like she could steady herself. Ghost jutted his hips into hers, the jeans constricting him. The movement earned him a weak groan, and he pressed away.

"Feels good, yeah?" He mumbled, the gloved hand grabbing at her ass. Her trousers had been a blessing, showing off the shape of her, but they had just about served their purpose. "Wanna get a little preview of how I'm gonna use this body tonight?" Ghost grunted and turned his head, face and mouth digging into her neck. She smells faintly floral- feminine and soft. Breakable. A wanton whine left her lips as his teeth grabbed for her skin, and his hips moved in tandem. "Didn't hear ya." Ghost paused, then chuckled against her skin. "Maybe a please, doctor. Could work on those bedside manners of yours."

Doc sucked in a breath, managing a brief laugh. "You want me to say please? To you?" He heard her smile fade as he opened his mouth against the nape of her neck, tongue and teeth working. Her head tilted back and he groaned against the length of her neck, hands skimming up her skin from under her shirt.

"Yes. Would be-" His teeth pulled her skin into his mouth, and he sighed, happily, as she squirmed. "Impolite not to, yeah?"

The doctor sighed reluctantly, and pulled back far enough to look at Ghost. Kiss-bruised lips pressed into a playful pout, and she batted her lashes. "Please, then."

"Please what?"

Doc chuckled, leaning forward; she was close enough for her nose to brush against the mask. "Please bend me over and fuck me silly?"

Ghost purred in response, dropping her from his arms. "That's more like it." He muttered, yanking a hand up to his mouth and catching the two fingers between his teeth. Slowly, he pulled his hand out. Tattoos peeked out from the long sleeves he was wearing on the cooler base, touching his wrist or snaking along his skin and under the fabric. "Asking me to fuck ya."

Doc's eyes gleamed with greed as she looked at his fingers before the large hands slid up her body, calling her attention back to the matter at hand. She hummed and looked back up to what she could make out of his face as he grasped her, hands feverishly feeling for what he could of her, running up and down her body under the damn shirt. "Let's get these off, yeah?"

"Sir, yes sir." Doc purred.

That was all the affirmation Ghost needed. He yanked up the hem of her shirt, a soft grunt leaving him when he saw the bra- lacy and black, leaving something heavy with desire in the pit of his stomach. "Fuckin hell." Ghost dropped her shirt on the floor, fingers moving back up to her breasts. "These fucking tits. Stare at 'em every time you fix me up."

"I know." The words left her mouth with a little huffed laugh, mingling with a whine as his fingers trailed over the thin fabric before she leaned back on the bed, her hands tangled in the thick fabric of his shirt.

Ghost fumbled with her pants. "Gonna leave my gear on, yeah?" He managed against her mouth. He pressed a kiss against her lips. "Never know when I'm gonna be called for."

"If you leave me now I'm not going to forgive you." Doc chided, leaning on her back. The motion of sliding her pants down her thighs was graceful, well thought and well practiced. "I've been waiting for this." Her lips curled devilishly as she laid back on the bed, grinning up at him as her eyes wandered over him. "I thought you would have lost the clothes."

Ghost chuckled, standing still. He reached a hand down and smoothed it up her thigh. Doc hummed, the muscles under her flesh flexing at the contact. "Nah. The mask stays on minimum."

"I like the mask."

"Good."

Ghost's hands grasped her thigh, staring over her. The cargos were restrictive, he was straining against the zipper of them- but he had to decide what to do. "Wanna fuck ya in so many ways."

Doc propped up on her arms, the bed frame barely creaking with the movement. "Then do it."

"I will, love. Just trynna decide how I wanna do it this time." He had abandoned his jacket, but he was feeling oddly warm. "So beautiful, but not sure where I want ya." Everywhere, mostly. On his face, on his lap, on his bed.

Doc's thighs rubbed together, her hips rolling up in a sinful motion. Ghost fought off a sound in his throat as he watched her strain for him.

"Want me in ya?"

"The sooner the better." Doc grinned, her bare legs squeezing his thighs, eyes coaxing and voice dipping into a gentle coo.

Ghost grunted, hands dropping to his belt. "Just gonna keep that on for me, love?" His fingers pulled at the buckle, eyes trailing over her body again, a hum of approval leaving Doc. She chewed on her lower lip, eyes glinting with greed. "Wanna fuck ya in that."

It was good that her dorm was so far- being a doctor on base gave her the privilege of privacy. Ghost shoved his jeans down and hooked his thumbs around the waistband of his boxers. Doc began to sit up and looked down towards his dick, a smile curling on her lips. "All for me?" She teased, her hips scooting towards the edge of the bed.

Ghost bent his head, spitting on the tip of himself before stroking himself. "You know it." He exhaled, nerves tangling over themselves in anticipation. She told him earlier that she had the arm implant and had a supply of Plan B- all he had to do was get the fuck in her.

Ghost slid his fingers up Doc's thighs- they were soft, the skin supple under his hands. Warm. His eyes darted towards her face, watching her lashes flutter as he tugged her panties aside. She let out a sound at the brief contact, the way his knuckles nudged her core open, a noise that could only be defined as craving. Ghost reached up with the hand that had been on his cock and tugged his mask back down over his face.

Doc's hips writhed up, searching for him, only for his fingers to barely stroke between the fleshy folds. "Patience, Doctor." Ghost grunted, his hand stroking himself again. Even if he stood here, this being wanting and moaning and vulnerable to him and jerked himself off, it wouldn't be enough. "'Boutta wear thin on mine, though."

A whine, a mewel really, wordless, escaped her, as his fingers dipped in- she stuck to him like honey, like sin, and he knew better things lie in her.

Ghost forced his hand away from his own dick, the edging throb of coming ebbing away, the feeling dissipating into annoyance. He exhaled, pushing her thighs open, fingers keeping the panties off to the side. He could smell the sex as he prodded at her opening with the tip of himself, inhaling heavily through the mask as she opened her legs for him, more, encouraging him with soft sounds of seduction.

"Ghost-" She strained to sit up, eyes darting down to where their bodies met. Her lips parted and she gave a whine, urging Ghost to push himself in more. She took every inch like a champ. Warm. Eager. Wanting. It radiated off her as he pushed the rest of himself in, shuddering at the seeping warmth all around his dick.

He was glad he wore the mask, at least. His eyes just about rolled to the back of his head as he bucked his hips once, his jaw tightening under the fabric. Her skin was hot against his cold belt buckle, her legs squeezing around his white tee. His eyes shut as he leaned forward, angling over her and grasping the cool metal board of the unforgiving bed. "That's it," He heard himself say as his huffs of breath were slightly muffled from the mask. "Pretty girl, I've gotcha." He rasped, eyes still closed, focusing on the heat creeping through his veins.

Doc managed something akin to words under him, Her hands raked over his arms, the fabric of his shirt and his mask, trying to grasp something. "This how you pay-" She turned her head, breath warm against his mask. "All those medical bills?" She laughed but it was lost between a moan and sigh as he moved, quicker, her body tensing.

Ghost spread his hands on her thighs and shoved them open, pressing them as flat as possible against the mattress. "'S it working?"

Her body rocked under him, finding solace in the contact. He could feel her shuddering under his hands, her thighs tensing. "Yeah." her breathing quickened and she turned her head against his mask, right by where his ear was hidden, and let out the softest moan. "You're- I'll-"

Ghost nodded, pushing himself to keep his hands on her body, eyes still shut. "Do it." He mumbled. "Whatever ya need. Just-" He grunted. "Soon."

The doctor's back arched, her legs snapping up and nearly shutting around him if his hands hadn't been spreading them open. She whined, a sweet and pitiful noise, and he felt her pulsing around him. A high pitched whine poured from her lips, and Ghost saw stars mounting behind his eyes.

"Fucking hell-" Ghost mumbled, hips snapping into her orgasam. "So fuckin' good, you come so pretty, fuck," Ghost leaned back, breath caught in the knit of the mask, the motions feeling more frantic.

Control- that was what the missions, the wars, he lacked. Here, in bed and behind closed doors, he could at least control himself and his dick. He could finally bring some pleasure, not pain. He buried himself in her, chanting quietly- fucking beautiful, love the sounds of that wet cunt, attagirl- until he was at the brink. He knew Doc could see his eyes open, just see the whites of them as he came, hips stuttering at last.

He leaned over her, Doc's pussy still nestled around him, her spasms slowing as his high began to ebb off. He nudged his masked face into her shoulder, exhaling slowly.

They took a moment. It was a rare few seconds of silence.

"You good?"

"Yeah." Ghost grunted. "Just- been a minute."

Doc chuckled. Her laugh was coy and inviting. In the dark room there was only him and her. Some normalcy, perhaps. "Been a bit for me, too."

Ghost blinked, wriggling his hips slightly. The sound of the suction as he pulled out was wet, needy. "For a pretty thing like you?"

She shrugged under him, doctorly hands running over the mask. "Yeah. I know. What a coincidence war keeps me busy." Doc chuckled, her eyes meeting Ghost as he pulled back.

She couldn't see his flushed cheeks, the way his lips twitched into a post-coital lazy smile. Just his eyes. Sometimes that was all he wanted people to see. "Seems like we're busy at the same time."

Doc's legs dropped from him, folding lazily onto the bed. "Mm."

"And not busy when we happen to be on base at the same time."

Doc's brows raised, and her lips curled into a smile. "What a coincidence," She purred, and even though she didn't know it, her smile matched his. "Maybe the next time we both aren't busy, you can swing by again for another appointment."

Ghost nodded, relief mingling with eagerness, his hand sliding up her body, memorizing the pattern of her skin and the warmth of her body, the deep breaths she took to calm herself and her nerves down. "I like the sound of that."

She grinned, laying back flat on the mattress as he leaned over her, bracing himself. Looks like he had standing appointments with the base doctor for the forseeable future. Not that he minded at all, as long as they all ended like this.

[fluffyprettykitty]

alteration

Pairing: Jack Russell x female reader (no other specifications!)

Word Count: ~1000 words

Outline: He was your patient yet you were willing to become his whore.

Warnings: dark themes, dub/con, swearing, praise kink, biting, size kink, derogatory names, rough play, facefucking, breast play, sub!reader.

Author's Note: Reader works in the medical field, could be a doctor or a nurse whatever you want. It's dubious consent, with Jack having started to transform.

PS: dividers by @firefly-graphics ​//​ banners by @maysdigitalarts

Main Masterlist ・❥・ Jack Russell Masterlist

He growls.

The room feels smaller than what you remember yet bigger than you want it to be. You want him to feel closer to you.

Jack tilts his head, a bone-cracking, his eyes narrowing.

Sucks in a breath and lunges himself at you. His kind eyes had longed turned silver and his aura had longed gotten heavier. His grip is tight on you. Placing his hands on your body, feeling and groping your body part, however, he needs to. Hands sneak in underneath your scrubs, tasting the bare skin as his teeth are lunged at your neck.

He is forcibly marking you, leaving his teeth trail there for whenever he might need you again. Making you his own, his own brand of whore. He needs you to become his, to wear his mark, for others to know that now you are part of his, his harem.

He sucks your skin so deliciously that it almost makes you forget that you are not supposed to like this. Guilt overwhelms you as his hand gropes your breast, squeezing it while your eyes shut. Maybe if you can't see him, he is not the one doing this to you. You want to breathe him in, you want him to devour you and have you and it stings your heart to know you shouldn't be feeling this way.

"Jack..."

You try to mumble, to push him away but he only growls in response clearly angry and his lips crush yours in a way that makes you shut up. His tongue is battling for dominance inside your mouth as both of his hands are holding your breasts, tearing the fabric down. He is kneading you like his dough, preparing you for your meal. Oh, you wouldn't be able to handle him if you weren't dripping wet and he knew that very well.

"Y/N. My Y/N."

He whispers your name in a way that makes your gut shutter, his voice sounding deeper than you'd ever hear it. Half man and half beast as he is right now, the sound of your name on his lips echoes deep inside his heart making his desire grow stronger. He is going to have you, feel your every nerve and have you forget any one else.

"My beautiful, beautiful Y/N."

He presses a hand on your neck pining you still as his other hand tears the rest of your scrubs in search of your cunt. Your throbbing wet aching cunt.

"I could smell you for hours. Your cunt is so desperate to be touched, she was practically singing to me long before the moon changed. Haven't got anyone to fuck that pretty little thing huh?"

He chuckles, you know he does because he wants you to feel that shame, that urgency, that desperation. He is going to take you anyway but he wants you to beg first. It's not like you have a choice.

"Sitting in your room all alone, your pussy throbbing at the thought of anyone, perhaps someone like that sticking their big fat cock inside you and taking you any way they wanted?"

His grip on your neck is tight, barely allowing you to breathe but the way your pussy now visible to him, responds for you, clearly having a pulse just for him.

"Oh look at her." He smirks looking at you and then down at you. "She's begging. Would be rude not to stuff her. I am a gentleman after all. Do you think that pretty little thing could handle something big?"

His free hand is now caressing your pussy lips tenderly, teasing the skin, watching your juices grow and flow down your thighs. He begins to tease you, stroking you so softly while he's practically choking you which has your mind gets hazy and desperate to be filled.

You try to mumble something, push your lips together to make a sound but before you can even focus on catching your breath when his hand frees your throat, you watch him as he pushes the zipper down of his pants, freeing the biggest cock you could ever see. Where was he hiding this?

Leaking and standing in attention he studies you as your eyes grow wider at the sight, practically salivating for it. You shouldn't want him, not like this, but you'd fall down to your knees, crawl to him, just to have a taste.

And so you do, your body thinking ahead of you, dropping down to your knees, semi-naked, your clothes torn, reaching for his cock. That image jumped up straight from your most forbidden dreams.

"Good girl."

He smiles as you touch his cock, feeling it between your hands before darting your tongue out. You'd want to take your time, feel him down your throat but he doesn't let you. He pushes your head away and grips your chin.

"Beg."

He commands you and it works like a charm on you. You want to follow each and every one of his orders, anywhere he goes, you'd follow. He slowly strokes your chin with his thumb, his cock close to your face, leaking and throbbing.

"Please." You whisper. "Please, let me have your cock, I will take good care of it, I will clean it dry."

"Louder. Could barely hear you."

"Please, please, let me have your cock."

"Too damn quiet. I want the whole building to know you want my cock."

He is clearly not satisfied, he is shaking his head negatively but you have no time to react as he keeps your head still, forcing his cock inside your mouth and you can't help but gag at the sudden movement, trying your best to accommodate him.

"Now you look like my whore."

And by the end of your shift, you'd get fucked any way like one as well.

For updates please follow my library blog @fluffyprettykittylibrary and you could even turn on post notifications! :)

[the-darkness-does-not-bargain]

Oh you’re tempting the medical gods with that post.

Prompt: Lilith and sunlight

Okay! Here we are. This one took a very different path than I thought it would at the start, but I was able to make the original title work anyway. This is set in mine and @horse-in-a-star-spangled-rodeo Immortal Roommates AU, where Lilith is a vampire, Ava is immortal, and they've been living together for thousands of years. I hope you like it!

If you want to know where my head was at, generally, you can check out this song. Obviously this is where the title came from.

/////

Death and the Setting Sun

She's hungry.  There is blood in her mouth, pouring down her throat in great gulps, but it has no effect.  If anything, it just makes the gnawing in her gut worse, compelling her to drink more.

She tears her fangs out of the legionnaire's throat, catching threads of his jugular between them as she does, and tosses his drained corpse aside without care for where it lands.  She’s so hungry.  Her stomach is a void, a yawning chasm that cannot be filled.  

That doesn't mean she won't try.  Her lips peel back from her teeth in an inhuman snarl, and her eyes, bright as a raging fire, scan the field for her next victim, the next Roman fool that dares to stumble into her path.

There are plenty to choose from, an entire camp's worth, in fact.  Some run from her.  Some cower in their tents.  Some even try to fight.  One tries to swing his Gladius at her, only for her to catch his wrist without looking and pull his arm clean from its socket.  She breaks him apart piece by piece, and his screaming face splits into a hundred screaming faces.  His body becomes a hundred bodies, all blending into each other, an endless feast to feed her hate.  She rips, and rends, and drinks.  She drinks and drinks and drinks and still, it isn't enough.

She is Hunger.  She is Hatred.  She is the night itself, running free with the setting of the sun.  She is Death.  She is—

She is awake, lying on her back in bed.  The room around her is quiet and shadowed, the curtains pulled shut across the window.  Despite the darkness, she knows instinctively that it is afternoon, only a few hours before sunset.

This is unusual, as her internal clock is typically very strict about avoiding the daylight hours, but when she tries shutting her eyes again, sleep will not return.  Her mind is too preoccupied, caught up in the memory of echoing screams and pink mist to quiet again.

Eventually, Lilith rubs her eyes roughly and sits up, groaning in frustration as she does.  She climbs out of bed and marches her dragging feet to the kitchen to make a pick-me-up.

The smell of coffee wafting from the pot is soothing.  Even as she fixes her cup with cream and an ounce of pig's blood, it helps her stomach to settle.  She keeps the mug clasped between both hands as she takes a seat at their battered kitchen table, and she sips from it with care and control, in sharp contrast to the mindless devouring of her dream.

There's nothing for it, she knows.  Centuries have passed since that night in Gaul (all of those nights in Gaul), but the memories still sneak up on her when she least expects them.  She's long accepted that they will never leave her, but she does wish, childishly, that they would give some warning to their approach.  Then she could plan around them.  They had the power to derail her entire day sometimes, and it was becoming increasingly inconvenient to take a day off in modern society.

She sighs tiredly.  The kitchen curtains are still open, casting warm sunlight onto the table.  She finds herself watching the light as it creeps across the faded wood.

In her idle moments, she sometimes wonders if sunlight is so dangerous to vampires not because it burns them, but because they miss it so much that burning seems worth it.  It holds a terrible power over them, in more ways than one, and Lilith knows she is no exception.

In those days, the sun was the only thing that could bring her back when she lost herself to delirium.  The threat of it triggered her survival instincts, stirring her thinking mind out of the haze of slaughter so she could find shelter.  It also illuminated the carnage she left in her wake.  And while she never felt an ounce of remorse for killing Romans, being forced to confront her monstrosity had never failed to drive her back and send her fleeing in shame.  At least until the sun set again.

She isn’t sure how long she sits there, watching without seeing.  She slowly works on her drink, waiting for the caffeine to kick in, while her mind continues to wander.  The orange-yellow glow continues to slide up the length of the table.  Eventually, she stops noticing it, oblivious to how it creeps ever closer to her exposed fingers…

“Whoa, close call there!”  Ava’s voice rings through the room like a bell.  There comes the quick shrush of curtains closing, taking the advancing afternoon sun with it.  Lilith registers all of this at a sluggish pace, barely reacting when she feels Ava lean in close to peck her on the cheek.  “What’s up, babe?  You’re not usually up this early.”

Lilith blinks slowly, her thoughts still caught up in the past, but she turns her head to answer her lover’s question.  “Woke up,” she murmurs.  “Didn’t feel like staying in bed.”

“Okay,” Ava responds easily, running a gentle hand over Lilith’s hair.  “You must still be pretty tired though.  I know we don’t have to worry about you getting crispy anymore, but you still almost got a nasty sunburn there, εραστής.”

Lilith merely shrugs, forgoing a verbal response.  Ava’s presence alone is enough to dispel the worst of her dark mood, but she still doesn’t feel particularly chatty.

Ava notices this immediately of course, her brow furrowing in concern.  She walks slowly behind Lilith and leans down to wrap her arms around her neck.  Her lips bury themselves in raven-black hair, coaxing Lilith to relax into her embrace.

“Êtes-vous d'accord?”  Switching between languages has always been effortless for Ava.  Lilith is no slouch, of course, but in her distracted state it takes her longer than normal to acknowledge the change from English to French.

“Bien. Juste penser à des choses,” she eventually answers, prompting Ava to hold her tighter.

“Avez-vous besoin d'une distraction?”

This is what they do for each other.  They have enough years and enough sorrows between them to drown the world, and Lilith firmly believes that the reason they’ve stayed together for so long is because they’ve learned each other’s preferred methods of dealing with things.  For Lilith, that usually means drugs, hunting, or sex, and for Ava, it means getting involved in zany, half-baked schemes just for the sake of creating chaos.  It's a mutual understanding of each other’s needs that's kept their relationship strong for thousands of years.

Lilith isn’t sure what she wants this time, however, because the lingering shadow of her nightmare is still resting heavily on her mind.

“Just…” She stops, takes another second to collect herself, and then starts again.  “What was that silly television program you were telling me about?”

“Buffy the Vampire Slayer?”

Lilith nods, already feeling her lips start to twitch into a grin.  “Yes, that one.  I want to watch it, and see how ridiculous it is.”

She can feel Ava smile against her temple.  “It’s a date, babe.  A new episode comes on at 7.  We can make dinner and eat while we watch?”

“I’d like that.”

Ava kisses her hair again.  “Great!  I’ll warn you though, Sarah Michelle Gellar is in it and she's super hot, so inaccuracies aside, you won’t think it’s ‘ridiculous’ for very long.”

[kovacs-of-courage]

Adventure-Swap Barren Snippet.

This was written for my friend's(brendathedoodler) adventure swap AU, go check it out!

In that AU, Warriors has Hyrule's adventures. I wanted to write something about Warriors before the events of Z1. How that might begin for him. -----

Barren prowled the catacombs under the northern castle; or what was left of it. In the wake of Ganon’s return, and the death of the king--Hyrule had been teetering on the brink of collapse.

He’d only left his home in the wilds weeks ago--equipped with little else but his sword, shield, and his wits to guide him through the many dangers of his fragmented kingdom.

“I can barely see in this place, how have you not fallen over yet?”

His fairy companion too, not to mention.

Barren didn’t answer, raising an index finger to his closed lips. 

Talking would only attract unwanted attention, and he wasn’t in the mood to fight-- not while Ganon’s army was still occupying the castle. Barren was well aware of the difference between headstrong courage, and suicidal recklessness. The lessons of his many, many mentors made that abundantly clear to him. Cautiousness had been baked into his very bones. Survival was paramount.

Careful as he was attempting to be--Barren did find it odd that he hadn’t encountered a single monster. You’d figure that an army of thousands would be patrolling every square inch of their enemy’s capitol; the catacombs especially. He’d heard the stories of their brutality, even seen some of it up close on rare occasions. 

These were the same monsters that found it fit to bludgeon fleeing children into bloodied stains, to hunt down and devour the sick and wounded over an open flame. To say they were ruthless would be the understatement of the century, they were cruelty for cruelty’s sake--taking frenzied glee in the suffering of others.

So that begged the question; why weren’t they swarming the catacombs?

Before Barren could begin pondering the question--a hollow rasp echoed across the halls, reverberating from crumbling stone and cracked archways.

“Is..is anyone there? Hello?”

Barren stood still. Silent. Questioning for a split-second whether it might be a trap.

“I’m...I’m here to help. Stay where you are, I’m coming over.” Barren said.

He winced at his own words. He sounded more stilted than assured, a product of his inexperience to be sure. In time, he hoped to portray to others the confidence he had in the field.

But for now, he was going to have to make due.

Barren reached into his bag, pulling out an old bronze lamp; dented and rusted from years of use. It was a gift from an old friend--though she said it’d belonged to his family, the heirloom finally returned to its rightful owners.

Once lit, he clipped the lamp to his belt; walking over to the source of the voice.

“You shouldn’t be here boy, it’s not safe.”

It was a knight.

And he was dying.

The soldier was an older man, thrice Barren’s age at the least. It was a wonder he was even in the field, though given his current condition--that wouldn’t be for much longer. The resolve behind his eyes, and the scars littering his weathered body told of a life in service of the crown.

No matter the cost.

The knight wasn’t going to leave these catacombs in anything more than a casket, Barren could tell. He lay a mangled mess of torn sinew and splintered bones. He lay rasping over an ever expanding pool of his own blood, darker in color then any Barren had seen before. 

“Can..can you do anything?” Barren asked, tilting his head towards proxy.

“I-I’m sorry Link, I can’t. Nothing short of a great fairy can save him now.” Proxy stuttered, hovering above her companion’s shoulder. It was heartbreaking for her to be as powerless as this. 

Barren shared her sentiment. 

He reached for his medical supplies anyway, hoping to ease some of the soldier’s pain.

The knight raised a hand, speaking clearly through his bashed teeth.

“Don’t bother son, it’d be a waste..” 

Barren knelt down, meeting the old soldier’s gaze.

“What can I do, then?”

The knight didn’t respond right away, letting the offer sit for a few terse seconds, each one feeling like an eternity passing by.

“Find my comrades, give them my crest--”

The knight lifted his metal gauntlet to his neck, bringing forth a golden circlet attached to a thin silver chain--a black bird painted across it’s face. 

He placed it in Barren’s hand.

“Tell them I gave my last full measure.” The knight said.

Barren nodded, pocketing the crest.

“And what if they didn’t make it?” Barren asked, colder then he would’ve liked.

“Then it’ll fall on you to protect the princess, son.” The knight retorted.

“I assume that makes you the royal guard?” Barren realized, his eye’s widening.

“Hah, you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. You’d be correct, yes.” The knight chuckled, spitting coughs and blood between his defeated smile.

“What happened? Where is your unit headed?” Barren inquired.

“Ganon happened. We were lucky to get out with a third of our unit, nevermind the princess. One of his damn darknuts managed to nick me, and its underlings did the rest. If any of us are still alive, then we’re headed south for old hyrule castle.” The knight explained, pointing to the hallway on his left.

Barren processed the information, soaking in the reality of what he was asked to do, and the dismal odds of his survival.

“I’ll find your comrades, and the princess. You have my word.” Barren promised, steeled resolve plating his words.

He rose to his feet, tightening the straps on his shield.

The knight smiled.

For the first time in centuries; courage was burning bright in hyrule again.

[jedidragonwarriorqueen]

Hello!

First and foremost, I wanted to thank you for all your wonderful fics. I've devoured many of your Royai ones, and I just can't get enough of your Hurt/Comfort! They're sooo good.

Would you call some of them "whump" (I'm not 100% sure about the terminology here)?

Also, I was wondering—how accurate are your depictions of physical injuries and their required treatments? I have no idea how gunshot/knife injuries work, etc. But I have no problem believing the details you describe, because they sound so specific and realistic. So hats off! :D

Thank you!

Oh my goodness, thank you so much!! I'm so glad you've enjoyed reading them, it makes me so happy to hear when other people enjoy my stories!

Haha, most of them I definitely call whump '^^ I really like @whump-culture 's explanation of the term here. I've always gravitated toward the idea of a beloved character enduring something terrible but then being cared for an recovering afterwards even before i knew there was a whole genre about it! Especially in the case of characters like Roy and Riza, where you have to go to extreme lengths to get the two idiots to actual talk about their feelings.

I try to keep the injuries I write about pretty realistic and plausible; I work in the healthcare field, and if an injury or reaction to it in a show/book/fic is unrealistic, it brings me out of the story :/ So if means a lot that the way I describe the injury/medical side of things made it believable for you! Thank you so much!! <3 For some examples:

For and when you can't rise, I did a lot of research to make sure Riza's symptoms and actions matched up with the progression of her injury (though I did get a little hand-wavy in how quickly and completely she recovered afterwards).

In don't you ever tame your demons, I specifically picked a body part where if one gets a gunshot wound they have a pretty good chance of survival, and where it's not going to necessarily immediately send someone into shock--but like, if someone gets shot anywhere, it's gonna knock 'em out of commission. Adrenaline can only do so much. But if I'd picked, say, the thigh instead, there ain't no way they'd have been able to run at all.

Thank you so much for such a lovely ask, and I'm sorry it took so long to get to it '^^

[pokerats]

You hear the sounds of screaming. It is alarming, yet expected. Ever since you’ve escaped the womb, peace has never shone its light through the rooftops above your head. Only the wetness from burst pipes that discolor the ceiling, carrying an odorous stench that pales in comparison to the fetid smell from the rest of your disheveled home.

Home. You fail to call it such. Condemned, decomposition takes it toll on the walls; the painted wood, once white, is a canvas of various smears and stains that litter its brownish tint. Bruised by decades of neglect—and holes the size of fists.

You have always lived in a life of squalor, it is all that you know. Will ever know.

The living room especially made into great living conditions for microorganisms to settle in. Empty food containers, dirty clothes, and other questionable items litter the floor and over central shaggy carpet. Beer bottles aplenty, reflecting what appears to be two silhouettes wildly gesturing as they assert blame on the other. An argument yet again gone awry.

You always knew they hated each other. Whenever she would escort you out of the house for awhile after an argument, you became her little decoy to distract bystanders. Taking advantage of their vulnerability, she sneaks upon them from behind, holds them at knifepoint, and subsequently robs them of their hard-earned cash.

This was The Under, where honorable men turn into savages. A home catering to criminals. A society build upon the foundations of committing every sin imaginable, away from lawful eyes.

You have always lived in this shady town. The only reason your family makes ends meet is because of the disability checks earned through deceiving orre’s government. And even though you are their little star child, they turned your medication profitable. You were swaddled always as a baby to ease the burning withdrawal symptoms. Or perhaps for your parents to disguise the abuse under blanket and physical coddling to appease child protective services.

Living in poverty, without a shred of pity given by those wealthier than you, warped your sense of perspective on the world. A dog-eat-dog system, wherein the meek will be devoured by the strong. Not even your parents—your sworn guardians—wanted to protect you. Nor was an effort made to prevent you from learning about how harsh reality can be to a person.

Now you are twenty-six. Thriving off grandma’s inheritance, her 401k is used to fund self-sustaining projects to support the downtrodden. Men and women whom lost themselves due to capitalist greed. Inflation rises the price of goods and services that are a necessity to survive. Hence why your organization exists, serving a purpose: to give back to the needy by reaping what the rich have sown in their stolen fields.

[cyphyra]

Reclusive Protector

(A short story I've written up just as something that came to me suddenly. I'm not normally a writer so sorry if it just kinda sucks narratively ig)

A fell wind blows over the field as the void-class Nightmare take down another ally. Having been knocked down, you look on as more adventurers enter the fray, your strength failing you as you try to get back up. One by one you see your peers fall, magicks failing and weaponry breaking upon the enemy. You start to feel dread as the last of them are struck down, like maybe you won't be making it out alive…

A chill settles over the battlefield as another adventurer-- a white fox with blue and pink hair-- walks out towards the monster, her hands wreathed in flame as she conjures twin scythes that seem to be made of blue fire. The Nightmare takes the opportunity to lunge, but she sidesteps the attack with terrifying precision. In the same motion, she jabs the monstrosity with a scythe and jumps away as it screeches.

Magicks were bouncing right off that thing before, but this magic seemed… odd. Like normal resistances weren't going to work this time. Still though, you hope and pray that others can pick themselves up to help; one person against a void-class is unheard of. Even so, you're surprised to notice the woman left one of the scythes lodged in the monster, as she simply summons another to replace it. She throws this new one, and it blocks it with a claw, but she smiles at this. You note that the new scythe is now stuck in that claw, at the very least causing discomfort to the Nightmare.

The fight kicks off proper and the two begin darting around the battlefield, the fox's movements like that of an elegant dancer paired with the monster's lumbering charges. While the monster was chipping in glancing blows, the fox laid in more and more scythes into the beast's hide with deadly precision. Yet the Nightmare still roared with intensity, it's life seemingly nowhere near spent.

In a complete twist, the fox suddenly changes tactics after laying in a final scythe; she conjures what seem to be pillars of magma which then harden around the beast's legs, giving her a chance to break distance. After a moment, she closes her eyes and starts an incantation. The Nightmare is roaring and flailing all the while, slowly breaking free of the fiery shackles. In a flash, the monster is consumed in a cloak of blue fire that spirals into the sky, the beast roaring in pain. When it fades, the monster seems hurt but not down, and the scythes have turned into what seem to be glowing blue flowers.

It breaks free of its earthly chains and lunges at the would-be hero, and your heart drops as she just stands there, prime for the attack. Time seems to slow down as the Nightmare closes in, its claws outstretched and jaw ready to devour, as the fox simply raises an arm...

Snap.

In the last moment, the beast completely freezes, unable to move, as the woman begins to simply turn back and walk away, clearly now very weak and winded, next pulling something out of seemingly thin air and setting it on the ground. Then, in a giant plume of fire, the flowers stuck in the beast explode one after another, and when the smoke clears it is encased in several layers of ice, slowly fading from existence as its life is spent. Your wounds combined with the stress of watching that fight cause you to pass out.

When you wake, you're being treated in a line with others who ended up falling in the fight. You're told that the woman who came to kill the monster was technically a local witch who's been around for years, though you wouldn't consider "in the middle of the woods near the city" local. The bag of medical supplies and potions was also provided by her.

You look over at the pillar of ice that did the beast in, and a medic chimes in, "Ah, you saw it, didn't you? Quite rare when she's gotta use Diamond Flare, that beast musta been a real piece of work!" Inquiring about the oddness of her magic, you're told that she accidentally screwed up the polarity of her own magic via an alchemical mishap, and since then has been able to take on void-class Nightmares, previously known to be able to shrug off any normal magic or weaponry for hours before anything gives.

You wonder to yourself if you should go try to find her home in the forest to thank her…

[dcsertrose]

“Nothing will take you from me. Not even death.” with eremika pls?

WIT sucks for not animating this panel :')

He nearly lost her today.

In that field. 

Hannes was their first casualty — a man he's known ever since he was a child. Eren couldn't recall the amount of times he got in trouble with the townsfolk for fighting off the bullies that tormented Armin, and by doing so, he'd make mess that would result in shattered stalls of fruits and vegetables flying everywhere. Hannes was always there vouching for him. 

But today Eren sat there, useless and helpless as the day he lost his mother. He could only watch as the smiling titan devoured and tore the older man to shreds. 

History repeating itself right infront of his very eyes. 

It's sickening. 

He cursed himself out. What good are these powers if he can't even protect the people he cares about? 

But then, Mikasa besides him, was his beacon in the dark. A slither of hope. Her grey eyes glossy with tears and her lips curl into a smile — small but yet so bright. He's never seen anything so beautiful. Anyone as beautiful as her.

She's beauty in this fucked up cruel world. 

Her words gave him the courage and strength to stand and fight. 

I'll wrap that scarf around you, as many times as you want. Now and forever.

He promised, and that's a promise he intends to keep even long after his death.

His stomach is in knots as the medical team lower her onto the rescue stretcher. Mikasa is sound asleep recuperating. Her ribs are broken. 

It's his fault she got hurt, if he wasn't so stupid and reckless enough to get kidnapped by Reiner and Bertolt— she wouldn't be in this predicament. Hannes and the several others who sacrificed their lives to rescue him would still be alive right now. 

It's just the two of them, the rest of the Scouts have scattered to discuss their next course of action. 

He's crouched down next to her, Eren gingerly brushes the stray hairs from her face, “I'm sorry— Mikasa, I'm so sorry.” Apologies will never be enough for what he's put her through.

“Nothing will take you from me.” His voice a mere whisper with a promising edge to it, she'll live a long happy life, he'll make sure of it, 

“Not even death.”

[obviousniklr]

"Something Left Unpatched" Part 1

(Warning: This story includes content that might seem violent and graphic to some audiences. Please be careful if you are sensitive to those topic.) (This is also a Halloween story)

The Team Justice Guild has been assigned to investigate an abandoned facility once used by researchers looking for cures of all kinds of diseases and ailments, but for the wrong intentions. As one of the investigation teams, Aires and Juliet split up to cover more ground, but little did Juliet expect that she would find something--someone alive here.

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

Taps of light gray boots can be heard walking through an abandoned hall. The girl opens each rusted door she finds openable, peek in through rooms that doesn't even have doors, observe the shelves of tools and folders, hospital beds and machines that's been left behind. Some rooms seems like a common room that you can see in a research center or hospital while some has a far darker story to tell, having chains and sharp buzzsaws lefts to rust in those rooms. But throughout all of those, Juliet doesn't see any evidence of the organization's work.

All the folders she can find are either empty or it has been taken of its essential data, or burnt intentionally or accidentally, or its papers has been wilted away due to broken water pipes. She comes across what seems to be a patient's room with a computer that looks to operate rows of screen. She clicks on the keyboard to see if it responses, and even turn on its system unit, but still, no signs of function.

*sigh* "Still nothing." Juliet sighs. "These people must've missed something to give us clues."

Aires and Juliet were assigned a mission to search an abandoned facility that has been left to be devoured by the elements for a decade now. It used to be a home to an organization who researches on finding treatment for diseases, disorders, and impairments that could possibly change the medical field and the lifespan of humans. Unfortunately, the local government has found that in reality they have committed several inhumane crimes, taking advantage of volunteers from poverty to run their curious experiments. Many of the reserchers have been arrested due to their crimes but there are still some in their records that has escaped the consequences of the law, and managed to erase all evidence before abandoning the facility. Aires and Juliet's job is to find evidence of where these remaining researchers could've fled to, in case if they're still continuing their callous agendas.

The two have split to search each side of the facility's second floor. Due it being a huge building, other guild teams assigned to the same mission are also searching the other floors and basements.

The taps of her boots can be heard throughout the empty quiet halls, with no other noise to accompany it rather than water drops in the distance. Even the cold and quiet space is getting to Juliet, having chills on her bare arms as she hugs herself.

"I wonder if Aires has found anything yet. My I should call her." She pulls up her phone from her pocket.

Then suddenly, her ears perks up, making her flinch and stop, and hears a noise in the distance. She looks to her left, only seeing rows of rooms that's either shut or doorless. She doesn't hear another noise. Perhaps she must've misheard --

"Hello? Is..." the rest of it is unintelligible.

She heard that. She can't mistake that as her imagination. She waits once more to verify it, only to hear a faint bang and another cryful hello.

Gasp, there is someone here! But how? It's been a decade since the place has been abandoned. Perhaps someone lives here now? And they need help? No matter, Juliet runs towards the noise to see where those calls came from.

"Hello? Is someone here? Please tell me where you are!" Juliet hollers, hoping that the voice will call again and help her with navigating their location.

She hears another call, still unintelligible, but it's the same voice.

She runs to the right, and hollers onces more.

"I'm here!" A muffled call of a lady can be heard just nearby. She's closer now. She speeds to the next right turn and looks to her left, an end of a hallway with a single closed door. She moves closer to it.

"Are you in there?" She calls.

"Yes yes, please let me out!" The woman in the other side cries.

Juliet fumbles on the knob to find it unlocked and opens the door to see a woman on the floor -- She gasped and jolted back. That determination to help someone in need immediately turned into a disturbed shock. A mix of disgust and disbelief cumulates in her body as she looks down at what was calling her.

The woman...is not a normal one in the slightest. The woman's body is only half of what it was once. Her scrapped, dusty, and blood-stained gown covers her back though it only ends there as it droops down to the floor to cover the rest. Her flesh and limbs were sown with a mixture of human flesh, and other colored skin, some rotten, some scarred, and some somewhat intact, and even some that has the fabrics of their clothes sown with it, as if her right arm has a chunk with a black cloth in the middle of it. Her hair is disheveled and dry yet still so long that it spreads on the floor. Perhaps it's about stomach length long. And her face is one that is malnourished. Her cheeks are no more than sculptures of its bones, and her eyes are wide open, with bags of flesh underneath them. And yet, with all the flesh just hanging on the skull, covering it like a mask, it's still covered with stitches and different colored skin.

This woman, isn't a normal human stuck here, it's a Frankenstein of what used to be a normal one.

"P-Please don't be afraid..." The woman begs. "I just want to be reunited with my husband."

"Uh..." Juliet hesitates. Still terrified, the shock in her eyes hasn't left. "I-I sorry..." her voices trembles, "but I can't help you..." she steps back and flees.

"No please! I don't mean any harm!" The woman begs once more in the room, and it did stop Juliet from fleeing. Letting her morals listen to the lady first before running like a scared puppy. "I just want to see my husband again! He's still somewhere here in this building, and I can't move on my own." The lady added.

"W-What do you mean?" Juliet turns around, only looking at the opened room.

"My limbs... lost its function to move a long time ago. The only thing that's left controllable with my body is my head, hence why I never left this room."

Juliet nervously comes back to the room, and peeks to see the stitched up lady once more. "But...how did you end up here? In a storage room." She observes the room to see nearly empty shelves, with a few tools and metal left untouched. "And how are you still alive? What are you?"

"I have lost sense of that as well. Those who have experimented on us have removed some of our organs to be replaced by artificial ones. I...used to--I mean, they said I have signs of stomach cancer so they gave us a "cure" for that. I may not need food to be hungry anymore but I still search for sustenance to keep some of my organs somewhat nutritioned."

"What? What is all this? What do you mean by experiments that they've done to you?" Juliet politely kneels down as she asks these questions. Letting her curiosity and concern move at the forefront now. "I--we know what this organization has done many inhumane acts but...not the details of it."

The stitched lady sighs. " It's...a long story but basically, me and my husband offered our help to the organization in exchange for money to help us in living. We thought it was just something simple like testing out medicine or check-ups but...we didn't know we'd be used as dolls." The lady's tone is a mixture of sorrow and regret. Huffing at each end of a sentence before starting a new one. Having trouble speaking while stuck lying on the floor, her chest lying flat for so long.

"What do you mean 'used as dolls'? What reason would they have to do experiments like this?" Juliet asks further.

The lady sighs in thought. "The men said they were working on research that involves curing people who have been amputated, born with missing limbs and organs, but I don't think they were being transparent with their true intentions." The lady's face turns into a more serious one. "Instead of testing those from the target demographic, they allowed-- more like forced-- people who have normal bodies. The reason me and my husband got involved? We were diagnosed to have organs that have signs of 'possible cancer'" she said somewhat mockingly. "We didn't think too much of it and accepted their offer for surgery."

"Little did we know that we'll be used as test dummies."

"How long were the two of you being tested? Can you still remember the process?" Juliet asks again.

"I remember EVERYTHING that they did to our bodies. It was agonizing. Even though we were unconscious throughout the procedure, by the end of it, whenever they would leave us in our rooms, where we could attempt to move unfamiliar parts of our amalgamation of a body, it's... it's insanity." The lady shook her head as if she were trying to forget these painful memories.

"So when we heard of the whole building being shutdown, being swatted by soldiers, me and my husband tried to escape but never found an exit in the underground floors." The mood shifts back to being gloomy. "And when we finally managed to get to the top floors, that's where we found that...were trapped here. For god knows how long."

"Since the doors has been locked and windows has been barricaded right after the arrest, this place has been blocked from the outside." Juliet continues the rest of the context.

The lady helds out a deep sigh once more. "Me and my husband tried to live here instead, find any rations that we could eat until...our body starts to become immobile, and fall apart."

"So, the last time you and your husband has seen each other, you both lost the ability to move."

"I'm afraid so."

"Now please..." The lady continues, "I have told all that I know, so can you help me find my husband?"

"But... what if he has already passed?" Juliet let's out her concern.

"I...it doesn't matter now I suppose." The lady looks down at the floor. "But I hope to die by his side, if the end is really that near." She said so meekly.

"Maybe...we can brought you along with us." Juliet shows a bit of hope, switching her frown to a small smile. "We can help you have a new life, and maybe have a new body to be able to move again."

The lady stares a bit and close her eyes with a smile, slowly shaking her head. "Can you not see my current state, little girl? There's no more future to me out there." Juliet's face turns back into a defeated expression. "Just a wish. That I can die happy with my husband."

"But... you're perhaps in your 40s or 50s right? You still have half a life to live happily with." Juliet still remains hopeful.

"I... don't know how old I am anymore, and I don't know if I still have the capability to be strong and healthy again."

Juliet sadly moans, looking down at the floor knowing that all the possibility of hope that she can think for the woman is not possible. "Well..."

"If the only thing left is your wish, to see your husband again, I'll help." She kneels up, her determination coming back once more.

The lady's face beams in excitement and relief. "Ah, thank you, thank you so much!" She seems nearly close to crying as her eyes squints.

Juliet smiles a little, looking down at the lady who has been lying chest first on the floor for so long, finally having the chance to move one more time. "You know miss..."

"Oh, Isabelle, or you can just call me Isa."

"Miss Isa, for staying alive here for so long, and going through many hardships in your life... you're a survivor, Miss Isa," Juliet said with a soft and gentle smile.

Isabelle nods, with her eyes closed once more and a smile.

Juliet stood up. "Now before we move, I don't think I can carry you for too long without any of your limbs possibly falling apart. How sturdy are those stitches?"

"I...I couldn't tell. All I know is that they're made of thick threads."

"Hmm... maybe there's a stroller here somewhere..." Juliet looks around. "Please wait here for a moment." She tells to Isabelle before going to the other rooms, searching for a device that she can move and carry Isabelle on. Not too long in her search, she finds a metal trolley. A movable platform with a handle big enough to travel a big crate. "Yes, this is perfect!" She says as she goes to it and pushes it back to the storage room.

"Here, I can move you around with this." She shows the trolley to Isabelle.

"Oh, how wonderful."

Juliet goes to Isabelle to pick her up, but she now faces the problem of how to pick her up. She awkwardly moves her hands around Isabelle, trying to find a spot where she can carefully and respectfully carry her, and without the risk of any parts of her falling off. She manages to find a secure spot, placing her hand on her chest and wrapping her arms around her stomach, she lifts the stitched lady from the floor and onto the trolley. Surprisingly, the lady is not as heavy as she expected, it's like carrying 1 kilogram of rice. Juliet also places her lifeless limbs, and hair as well on the trolley, making sure that no part of the lady would be dragged or left behind. Juliet huffs as she stands straight back up. She looks back at the spot where the lady stayed for a long time. The spot has been blackened, perhaps due to blood loss from all the cuts and unfinished stitches. Other than that, the floor has been kept clean, only leaving a few bolts and rolls of threads that have probably rolled down from the shelves. Juliet looks down at her white clothes. It's a bit stained now, mostly her sleeves, for carrying the lady. It's hard to tell its colors due to the low and cold lighting of the facility.

The two heads out their way. Juliet, who was walking on her own before, now pushes a trolley with a stitched woman lying there.

"Thank you again, young girl, for giving me this chance." Isabelle tries to look back at Juliet, but she can only meet her halfway.

"It's my pleasure." She smiles brightly. "I'm always willing to help anyone in need. Even in a place like this."

"I won't lie, we didn't expect to find anyone here. Well, alive at least" Juliet continues. "Since you and your husband were one of the tests--patients" she corrects herself to avoid offending the lady, "did you know what happened to the other patients? Did they try to escape too?"

"Well..." Isabelle sighs. "We did have some comrades during our times here, they would even help us regain our morals and hope when it fleeted, but there are some patients who... didn't make it that long, or the inflictions done to their bodies was far too... inconsiderate to even let them live until their next tests. I-I can't remember the rest nor know it due to us being confined in our rooms, only to be let out when we needed to be tampered with." Juliet furrows her brows as she feels upset, thinking of all these careless scenarios in her head. "When we escaped, yes some of them came along with us, but not a lot was able to reach the top floor. It was only a few of us who did, and we went our separate ways, scouring every room of the facility to ourselves."

"But...I haven't seen anyone or any remains in my search. Maybe they're in the other side of the building?"

"Perhaps."

"Maybe we will bump into my partner too. I wonder how she's doing." Juliet suddenly grows concerned for Aires. "Maybe I'll call her, see if she made any progress." She pulls up her phone and calls Aires.

"Progress? On what?" The lady asked.

"Oh, we were sent here to find evidence of where the rest of the organization could've possibly gone to. Unfortunately, not all of them were arrested until now."

"Huh. I thought this nightmare already ended by then." The lady turns to the front once more, only to jolt her head back to ask "Oh, I haven't gotten your name yet, young girl."

"Oh heheh, my name is Juliet." She smiles with her eyes.

"Ah, what a beautiful name for a pretty, young girl like you." Isabelle replies.

"Oh, thank you." Juliet shyly replies back.

"I wish I was as pretty as you back then when I was still little." Isabelle weakly giggles.

"Well, your husband must've seen you as a beautiful girl in his eyes, that's why he have chosen you."

"Ah, my husband did made me feel special back then, eventhough we didn't have the money to buy enough food everyday."

"How sweet of him. What's his name?"

"Caesar. He was a generous man." Even though Isabelle's voice is coarse, the sweetness of her tone can still be felt. It makes Juliet smile hearing that but eventually becomes concerned as an automated voice clip speaks from her phone instead.

"The number you have dialed is unavailable right now. Please try again later."

"That's... concerning. Is there no signal here?" She close off the call and messages her partner instead.

"Aires are you okay?" "Anything on your end?" She sends those messages, and the small icon of "sending" quickly changes to "sent".

"Hm, there is signal..."

"Young girl look over there!" Isabelle says in a whispery tone, looking to the left. This made Juliet quickly hault her pushing.

"What is it?"

The two can see a corpse in the distance. They move towards it, but not too close where they can smell its scent. Juliet moves towards it with her sleeves covering her nose. The corpse seems to be that of a civilian, wearing some sort of a long sleeve shirt and pants. The flesh is still in the continuation of decaying, molded chunks of it being inhabited by maggots, and the brown bones are easily visible. The person's face is far from recognizable, it's nothing more than a skull with moldy tissues. Juliet feels uncomfortable looking at it, feeling a bit pitiful but mostly disgusted, until she finds a discrepancy in her observation of the corpse. The rest of the body seems intact, or at least some parts are left where they should be, but the right arm and leg are missing, and even the sleeves of its clothes seem to be cut along with it. She looks around to find if those parts have suddenly moved around but nothing. Only the spot of the corpse has signs of human decay. Juliet thinks this is odd.

"Anything interesting there?" Isabelle asks loudly and hoarsely.

"Nothing." She replies, as she hurries back, away from the stench, "it's just a corpse of a stranger. Did you... know about that, Miss Isa?" She asks.

"This is the first time I've encountered that actually. We've thought that all of the researchers have been arrested that I'm surprised we'd see a corpse of one of them left here." Isabelle explains.

"Wait, how did you know it was one of the researchers?" Juliet's head immediately turns down to Isabelle.

"Oh, in the earlier days of our entrapment, we have been hearing rumors about break-ins here. I have never encountered a sign of it, until now." Isabelle explains.

"Strange. Maybe perhaps one of them came back only to be attacked by something. Perhaps one of your fellow patients." Juliet reverses the trolley and steers it around, putting them back on their main route.

"It's a possibility. Though it's been a long time since I've seen one of them, nor do I know if they're still alive." Isabelle mourns.

The two continue to stroll around the second floor of the facility. Juliet asks Isabelle many things she knows about her experience in the organization as this could help in the searching. She also takes stops to observe every room for further evidence, only to find little data in the empty areas. As they continue to stroll, Juliet asks Isabelle about her life as well, growing up in poverty and trying to stay alive even if it means they have to steal at times. Juliet sympathizes with her stories, wishing that poverty would slowly fade away so that everyone could live happily and healthily. Isabelle tells how comforted she is to hear those words, that there are people who are kind after all those that she has faced and witnessed throughout her life of living, those who are selfish, cruel, and remorseless.

(Continue...Part 2)

[lpmurphy]

Spring in Tchakova Park

Read on AO3 Master List Chapter Playlist Summary: Green was the color of the grass where he used to walk in Tchakova Park. In which John meets a stranger in the park, Violet learns of the care and keeping of Spartans, and Cortana offers dating advice. (Complete 5/7/24) Chapter Summary: Violet copes with John's absence after their fight, and finds comfort in an unusual place.

Chapter Nineteen: Bathroom Conversations

Violet walked home alone through the park that night with aching feet. 

The medics in the sick bay had spent the better part of an hour picking shards of glass and sharp pebbles out of the soles of her feet. Miranda stayed with her as long as she could, holding Violet’s hand as they sat in silence while the medics worked on her. She had needed five stitches between both feet, but Violet hadn’t heard any of the discharge instructions she had been given, nor did she feel the tight buzzing of the local anesthetic that had numbed her from the ankles down. She never felt the pain of the foreign bodies that littered her skin, or the tugs of each as they were dislodged from her. She thought only of the pained look in his eyes in the dark of her living room and the slamming of the door. It echoed through her mind, lingering with the roar of engines and the glint of green as it disappeared behind the ramp.

She walked the paths through the park with bandaged feet. They carried her past the pond where the geese swam, past the grassy field where he would throw the ball for Sadie, past the walking signal he would kiss her beside each evening while they waited for the signal to change. She walked Cornelia Street to her door alone to an empty apartment where she slipped off her shoes in the space next to where his own boots should have sat beside them. Sadie was upon her as soon as the door opened, licking her hands and peeking out into the hallway curiously for the presence they both searched for before she followed Violet down the entryway. 

Each step tugged her sutures uncomfortably. Violet padded into the living room, carefully keeping her weight on her heels as she walked to open the balcony doors. Evening sunlight bathed the room, casting its shadows across the walls and flooded the room with warm summer air that carried the sounds of the musicians in the amphitheater. She didn’t feel the warmth. It felt instead like she could have been standing in front of the open refrigerator door as the chill climbed through her limbs, bitter and painful as it spread. Her eyes fell to the small iron table that sat beside the chair on the balcony. His book sat there still, dogeared where he had left off his reading to answer the door for Kai when she arrived the night before. She’d find him there most evenings after she cleared away dinner dishes with Sadie at his feet as he read one of her books from the shelves or watched the park below him. Trips to the bookstore while he was away had shifted from time spent pursuing the fiction section to picking up thick paperbacks on wars fought hundreds of years ago that he would devour under one of his massive blankets on the balcony until well after the sunset. That same ache she felt each time he was gone settled into her as she wondered how long it would be before she could look up from the island and see him there again. If she ever would again. Or if that final slam of the door had punctuated the story of them for good.

Or, god forbid, if he didn’t come home at all. 

Violet swallowed it down before the thought could take root in her like a weed. She pushed it back as it gnawed its way to the forefront of her mind, ugly and determined, refusing to acknowledge the way it screamed at her. The smell of saltwater still filled her nose as she turned from the balcony. Violet gave her still damp hair a sniff, her nose wrinkling at the briny scent of the Sea that still lingered. She needed a shower, she thought. Or a hot bath and a glass or wine, or a whole bottle for that matter. She needed to crawl into bed and disappear for a while. Perhaps hot water and a good cry would melt away the chill that had settled into her. Sadie followed behind her as she crossed to the bedroom door, the dog trotting into the room ahead of her to leap onto the bed. Sadie rolled around on Violet’s side and snapped at the unmade bedding playfully. Violet couldn’t bring her eyes to the dog, but instead stared at the tight hospital corners he had folded the sheets on his side into before leaving for PT the morning before. She couldn’t pull herself from the spot, unable to cross the threshold into the room as she gripped the doorframe. Her eyes traced over the splintered wood of the bed frame that hung over his pillow.

Anger replaced the ache as she stared at her bed. At their bed. Violet couldn’t look at a single inch of the apartment without finding him in it. That anger bubbled in her chest, her lungs too tight with each breath. She should have stayed above water instead of hiding out like some fucking coward. She should have marched herself down to their training facilities that morning instead of settling for a message and told him everything that was on her heart and demanded that he come back home. She should have pulled her head out of her ass and looked up at the lights sooner. She shouldn’t have allowed some fucking prick that she never loved to ruin the one real thing she’s ever known. She should have run faster; harder. Paid better attention to her surroundings and not wasted precious seconds slipping and running into others. What was the point of her daily runs if she couldn’t fucking get there? 

She should have been there. She should have been there to kiss him goodbye and say the words she’s known for months. How long would she have to wait until she could? How many weeks? Months? She shuddered at the thought and pulled the bedroom door closed. 

She took careful steps back to the couch and plopped down. Sadie leapt up beside her to licked her salty face before tucking herself between Violet’s side and the back of the couch, sighing as she laid her head on Violet’s leg. She stared up at the ceiling and listened to the sounds of the musicians in the park that floated through the windows, hoping that focusing on each note would distract her from the ache that buzzed through her as she watched shadows climb across the paint.

A rhythmic knock at the door interrupted her moment of quiet. Meredith wasted no time in pulling open the unlocked door and letting herself in, her arms full of various takeout bags and boxes as she kicked off her shoes and sent them tumbling out into the living room. Violet’s eyes followed her from the door to the kitchen island wordlessly. Meredith dropped the bags onto the island and greeted Sadie when the dog leapt off the couch to meet her. She dug through the bags, procuring enough foam containers to feed a small family.

“I wasn’t sure what you would be in the mood for, so I got a bit of everything for an ultimate comfort food feast,” Meredith explained as she laid out the various containers on the island and pointed to each as she listed off their contents.

“Chicken soup dumplings, sweet and sour pork, and egg drop soup from Jade Palace. I got pizza, so much garlic bread that I think the chick at the counter was concerned, and that gross mushroom ravioli shit you like from Bertoglio’s. Tikka masala and samosas from that place on 3rd Ave, and I bought a whole strawberry cheesecake from Sugar & Butter. What can I bring you first? Or should I just bring the cheesecake and a fork?” 

Violet tried to offer her friend an appreciative smile but her face refused to cooperate. She let her head fall against the back of the couch and watched Meredith root through her cabinets for flatware. 

“I’m not hungry, Mer,” she called over the clinking of dishes. “I appreciate it though. You should go out and enjoy your-.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Meredith called over her shoulder. “You need to eat. I’m not playing into your sad-girl-hunger-strike bullshit, Harris. What do you want on your plate? Nevermind, I’m bringing over the cheesecake.”

Violet watched as Meredith found her silverware drawer and retrieved two forks before carrying over the outrageously large cheesecake to where she sat to deposit it onto the coffee table. She stabbed the forks into the berry-coated surface before turning to where Violet sat. Meredith’s eyes fell to her bandaged feet before she looked up to meet her friend’s absent stare with a gentle sympathetic smile. 

“Your run is the talk of the base right now,” she said softly, “I heard, like, twelve people talking about it when I went to leave today. Pretty badass, Mrs. 117.”

“I didn’t make it.” Violet whispered.

“I know,” Meredith sighed, pulling the yellow blanket from its perch on the back of the couch. She undid John’s neat fold and draped it over Violet’s lap before settling onto the couch beside her. The scent of generic soap, black coffee, and gunpowder that wafted from the fibers hit her nose and Violet swallowed down a sob. She fell into her broad shoulder as Meredith tucked her own feet under the blanket and wrapped her arm around her friend, pressing her cheek against Violet’s still damp hair. “You tried like hell though. I think he would appreciate that.”

Meredith didn’t speak again after that. Violet began to pick at her thumbnails, breathing in his clean scent that still lingered on the blanket like it would somehow bring him back to her. Meredith placed a hand over her own wordlessly and gave it a tight squeeze. Violet clung to her hand, anchoring herself to her. Meredith had been there for all of her major breakups, if that’s even what this was; a steady presence that always seemed to know exactly how she was needed despite her rowdy ways. 

She had been there for the guy Violet had dated during the doctoral program when they mutually ended things upon graduation. Meredith had taken her out to some dive bar where they had spent the night hustling drunk men out of their money over games of pool to pay for their drinks. They ended the night on a swing set in the park in the early morning hours, giggling and dreaming of the good they would do with the Ph.Ds they would soon add behind their names. Meredith had been there for Dev and bore witness to all of Violet’s anger and fear. She had brushed her tears from her cheeks and listened to Violet cry and scream over the words she wished she had said and for not being just a little bit braver each time he backed her into the corner. Meredith snuck them up onto the roof of one of the greenhouses where they watched the sun set on the flat horizon and ate freezer-burned ice cream sandwiches until Violet was ready to climb back down. It was no different from where Meredith sat on the other side of the couch with nothing but patience waiting for Violet to tell her what she needed. Nothing came to her. The ability to think was overcome by the ache that pulsed through her. She instead just stared at her friend, her eyes unfocused as they looked beyond her to the bedroom door.

“He left, Mer.” She whispered. Violet wasn’t sure which instance she spoke of; the slamming of the door and roar of engines still echoing through her mind.

“He’ll come back,” Meredith stated, leaning forward to scoop a forkful of cheesecake and nudge Sadie away from where she sat beside the coffee table salivating.

“You don’t know that,” Violet responded, baffled by the casualty of her friend’s statement. She said it like she was sure; like restating the anatomy of a plant and the functions of each part. Meredith only shrugged and brought her fork to her mouth.

“He will, Vi.” 

“How do you know? What if he doesn’t?” 

“He caught a whole ass charge for you last night, Harris,” she said through a mouthful of cheesecake. “He’d drag himself back home to you if he had to, trust me. Kai basically said so herself when she walked me back to the hotel. He’s either totally in love with you, or you have some top tier, next level, magical Spartan-taming pussy. I’m going with the first option.”

“But what if he doesn’t?” she gasped out, her voice breaking with a wet sob. She sat up, Meredith meeting her stare as she allowed herself to feel the fear that had haunted her each time he was deployed as she voiced it aloud. “What if he doesn’t and those are the last things we said to each other? What if that’s the last memory of me, of us, he has? I can’t live with that, Meredith.” 

Meredith only held her hand, uncharacteristically quiet as she watched her friend. Violet swallowed down the sob that bobbed in her throat, rubbing at her eyes with the back of her hand. She waited for Meredith to meet her with a string of expletives and a dirty joke like she usually would, but this time was different. This time she just looked back at her, just waiting to listen. Violet felt her lip quiver and she was unable to hold back any longer. She threw her arms around Meredith. The blonde pulled her tightly against her as Violet began to cry and stroked her hair while she sobbed into her shoulder.

“I love him, Mer.”

She hiccuped out the words that she had known since that first moment in the park as she clung to her friend. That feeling she felt inside of her as soon as his eyes met hers without truly knowing what it was. That had flown from her mouth the night before only to be met by his bewildered gaze. She loved him; in every sense of the notion. In every breath she took, in every word she spoke, in every second she spent in the pull of his magnetic force. Spartans never die. She had heard him say it before. Spartans may never die, but she would. If he went, part of her would go with him. She would never be the same. She knew John would take every ounce of her with him in the same way he did every time he disappeared into the stars. 

---

That part of her remained in the stars for over a month with no sign of return. Violet was left with the rot that sat heavy in her stomach with each passing day. 

Meredith left the following evening with tearful goodbyes and a curt nod to Dev as he entered the ship with broken wrist wrapped in a cast. Violet reserved herself to her office in the days following the meetings, throwing herself back into her work in a desperate attempt to distract herself. Every PA call made her jump in her seat and crane her neck to listen desperately for any sign of him. She refused to leave her office. Instead, she split her time between her monitors and the labs. She sent horticulturists and lab techs between the greenhouses when she could, overwhelmed by the notion of being caught underwater again and missing another call. Miranda still visited her office every Tuesday and Thursday for lunch like she had over the previous months but neither woman had much to say. Their lunchtime conversations had usually been full of laughter and gossip about reality stars, but they instead ate in silence. Occasionally, Violet would be brave enough to ask for statuses on Silver Team. Each time, Miranda would squeeze her hand and remind her that she didn’t have the clearance for that information with an apologetic smile. Fuck clearance, she would want to scream. Just tell me he’s alive. Tell me he’s coming home.

She spent most of her evenings in her office just in case the call would come. Night would fall in an inky blanket over the city before she would finally return home to an angry dog. Violet didn’t lock the door behind her and would leave the entryway lights on. Just in case. 

She slept on the sofa every night he was gone. She couldn’t bring herself to pass through the doorway into the bedroom; it felt too big, too empty. The silence of the empty room was far more deafening than his snoring had ever been. His alarm would go off every morning at four, and she would be there to meet it before the first chime could even finish. Most mornings, she would turn and retreat to the bathroom once the chiming stopped, unable to look at the half made bed.

One morning during the fourth week she lingered beside the side he slept on, staring down at the tight folds he had stretched the sheets into in contrast with the mess of sheets she left her own in. It drove him crazy. He had told her as much every time they got into bed how he just couldn’t understand how she could leave such a mess. She would just smile and kiss him, knowing that the sheets would end up in a tangle at the foot of the bed by the end of the night anyway. But he still took the extra few minutes when he woke to pull them back over her and make his side before pressing a kiss to her forehead. She stared down at the heap before stepping to her side of the bed and seized the crumpled bedding in a tight wad. After a wash and dry cycle, she stretched the still warm sheets across the mattress, matching his crisp folds and tight corners before she smoothed down the comforter with her hand.

Jane called her daily to ask for updates, and every day Violet had nothing new to share. Part of her wished that she would stop calling. She selfishly wanted the questions about John to stop. For her mother to carry her own worry without dropping the heavy weight of it onto her. Yet, Violet found herself relying on the calls as the days went on. Her mom’s voice brought a sense of comfort that she couldn’t find in her own too quiet home. A lifeline that tethered her to herself in all of the unknowing.

“Any news on when he’s coming home?” 

Jane’s question snapped Violet’s focus back to their conversation as she stepped off the lift. Her mother had spent the better part of twenty minutes telling her stories about her niece and nephew, but Violet found herself unable to concentrate on tales of trips to the aquarium and her mother’s gripes about her sister’s parenting choices. The question she dreaded the most about their conversations sat heavy in her belly as she stepped off the lift. The chatter of the busy mess hall filled her ears as she passed towards the restrooms. Violet ducked in, thankful to find the ladies room empty. 

She set her pad down on the counter, “Same news as yesterday, Mom. I still don’t know.”

“I don’t know how you do this, sweetheart. I am just beside myself!”

“Me too, Mom.” She gritted out. If her mother was beside herself, then Violet must have been on an entirely different continent than herself. 

Jane sighed, “How are you, baby? Be honest.”

The question caught in her throat. The tears she had shed endlessly over the month bit at her eyes. She shook her head, tilted her head back and attempted to blink them back. 

“I’ll be okay.”

“Don’t lie to me, Violet Renee. A mother knows her child.” Violet chuckled at the statement and brushed away the few tears that had escaped despite her efforts. Jane’s tone softened on the other end of the call, “Why don’t you come home for the night, sweetheart? Bring Sadie with you and I’ll make your favorite for dinner. Dad and I won’t ask any questions, we’ll just listen. We can go for a walk. Have you gone outside at all? Other than going to work, that is.” 

Violet nodded and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She sighed down at the mascara stains that streaked her hands before turning on the sink, “Okay, Mom.” 

“I’ll go get your room ready now. I love you, sweetheart. He’s going to be just fine.”

The sudden sound of the bathroom door opening made her jump. Violet brought her sleeve to her eyes, sniffling as she hastily wiped away the wet on her cheeks. 

“Mom, I have to go,” she said quickly. She tapped her pad and terminated the call before Jane could respond.

She looked up from her pad to the door, still wiping her face and hoping it hadn’t been blatantly obvious that she had been having a meltdown in a public restroom. She found the young Marine from the mess hall weeks prior staring back at her, her eyes wide as she regarded the doctor. Violet glanced at her name tape to confirm that the woman had been a part of the group she’d eavesdropped on. Perez, she remembered. She had chosen John as her Spartan of Choice. 

“I’ll come back,” she said quickly. The young woman sputtered out an apology and turned on her heel. 

“No. It’s fine,” Violet called back. “Please. Don’t mind me. I was about to leave.”

The young woman turned back around with an apprehensive nod. Violet watched in her reflection as she passed behind her to one of the empty stalls, keeping her eyes forward. Violet wet a paper towel and began to dab at the mascara that speckled her under eyes, wondering why she even continued to bother with the makeup she found herself so often reapplying. Perez placed a hand on the door to push it open and paused, straightening her shoulders before she turned back to Violet. Violet met her stare in the mirror as the woman took a steadying breath. 

“Mrs. Harris?” The woman paused. She cringed, quickly correcting herself as pink blossomed across her cheeks, “Doctor Harris? You may not remember me but, um, we met in the mess hall a few weeks ago. It was very brief, and I guess we didn’t really meet, but I’m-.”

“I remember,” Violet said softly, tossing the paper towel into the waste bin. “And please, Violet is fine.”

Perez nodded and paused for a moment as she collected her thoughts. She launched into another burst of nervous chatter as if she were standing in the presence of a Spartan and not a civilian scientist. “Okay… I just wanted to apologize for what you overheard. It was inappropriate. My friends were terrible- I wouldn’t even call them my friends. They’re just some girls I know, really. They had no right to talk about Mr. 117- I mean the Master Chief! They had no right to talk about the Master Chief in the way that they did, or about you for that matter. You know how girls can get… God, you should hear them after they go bar hopping-.”

Violet turned and raised a hand. Perez’s rambled apology came to a quick stop. Violet felt her lips turn up into a smile for what felt like the first time in a month as she recalled the conversation.

“It’s fine.” Violet said. The young woman still would not meet her eye. “Really. I was your age once. Not too long ago, believe it or not. You should have heard how some of my friends talked. It’s nice to know that John,” she paused, swallowing down the bubble of tears that came with his name. “The Master Chief has a fan club. He definitely deserves one. Please, no need for apologies. There’s nothing to forgive.”

Perez nodded nervously and returned Violet’s tight lipped smile, "Good, thank you. Well, um... have a good day."

She turned towards the stall door again. Violet returned to the mirror and wet another paper towel, hoping that the cold water would relieve the puffiness around her eyes before she made her way back to her office. The last thing she needed was to be caught red eyed and provide the base with any more rumor fodder. The stares and whispers that followed her down the halls was plenty enough. Perez lingered in the doorway again before turning back around. She met Violet’s eyes in the mirror again, a determination about her as she straightened up. 

“Ma'am, forgive me if I am out of line... are you alright?"

Violet looked up from the faucet. Concern riddled the young woman’s tone as she regarded her reflection. She was thrown by the question, by the kindness that hung from each word. No one other than her mom or Katie had asked how she was over the span of the month. She had been resigned to hiding out in her office, ignoring the whispers about ‘The Flight of Mrs. 117’ that seemed to follow her down the halls. Yet, here was this stranger offering her a bit of kindness while she cried in a bathroom like a high schooler. She felt embarrassed. But part of her felt relieved by the question as well. She sniffled back the tears that pricked her eyes, offering Perez a watery smile and a nod she hoped was convincing.

“I’m fine,” she lied, but the quiver of her voice betrayed her, “Thank you.”

“Are you sure, ma’am?”

Violet nodded, but the sincerity of Perez’s tone sent her over the edge. She hiccuped out a sob and the tears she had attempted to hold back rolled down her cheeks. Embarrassment bubbled in her again as the Marine’s eyes widened. Get it together, Harris, she thought. She sniffled and swallowed down the scratchiness that formed in her throat as she wiped her face, desperately willing herself to have some decorum. She hated how easily she cried. Katie had often used it against her when they were kids. She knew it wasn’t a good look as a department head stood crying in the bathroom. Perez crossed to the sinks to stand across from her and placed a hand cautiously on Violet’s shoulder in comfort. The door creaked open again and Violet turned to see just who else would get to bear witness to the pitiful scene. Another woman stepped in and looked over at the unfolding scene in confusion. Perez turned on her heel, pointing at the door. 

“Out!” She snapped. The other woman recoiled at the fierce tone. “This one’s closed! Get out!”

The woman nodded and muttered out an apology before she turned quickly and exited the bathroom. Perez brought her eyes back to Violet, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Violet fell apart at the gesture, the story of that last night tumbling from her mouth before she could stop it. Perez listened intently as she rambled, offering a patient nod occasionally as she took in the events. Violet told her about the bar, about the fight, about her desperate run across the base and Perez did what so few had done over the past month. She listened.

Violet patted her face as her story came to a close and sniffled. Perez reached for the paper towel dispenser, offering another rectangle of scratchy tissue to Violet that she accepted with an appreciative chuckle. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I told you any of that. You must feel like you got trapped in the bathroom with that crazy lady.”

Perez only shook her head earnestly, keeping her kind gaze on Violet as she fixed herself in the mirror. “No, ma’am. Not at all. I can actually understand how you are feeling, in a way. My fiancé is stationed off planet. I haven’t heard from him in some time. It’s been stressful in the same way I’m sure it has been for you.”

Violet’s heart sank at the confession. She felt foolish as she stood before the young woman sobbing over her boyfriend like a teenager. John had only shared a fraction of what Perez had experienced on Sanctuary with the same dry, detail-oriented way he would write an AAR. Even that had been enough for her to feel the terror that poor girl had experienced. On top of all that fear and trauma, she had her own person in some far corner of the galaxy to worry after, and still sat to listen to some thirty year old woman’s bullshit. Violet felt selfish as she returned her smile and squeezed her arm in the same way Perez had hers. 

“I am so sorry,” was all she could manage to say. 

“Ma’am- Violet. Again, I know this may be out of line,” Perez began, but Violet shook her head. She had already been the one out of line, she thought. Nothing could be worse than her tearful display. “Would it be alright if I prayed for you?”

Violet’s eyes widened at the offer, taken aback by it. She couldn’t remember the last time she had set foot in a church; it had been long before she had left to work at the Demeter Project. Her mother was always the deeply religious one of the family. Jane would pull the family out of bed every Sunday morning and tote them down to the neighborhood synagogue despite her and Katie’s grumbles. Violet couldn’t remember the last time she had prayed, nor the last time someone had prayed for her. Perez watched her, awaiting her answer with that kind, patient stare. Violet nodded, feeling as if it would be rude to decline after the moment of kindness that had been so graciously shared with her and sputtered out a yes.

Perez smiled before taking Violet’s hands. She bowed her head, her eyes fluttering shut before she took a deep breath. Violet followed suit, bowing her own head and closing her eyes. She listened as the young woman began to pray; asking for strength, courage, hope and protection for John and his team. Asking for them to be guided home safely without harm. 

Violet listened to her calm words and took in the sure way that she spoke each syllable, as if knowing that they would be met. Perez squeezed her hands gently as she spoke, and turned the focus of her prayer to Violet. Violet returned the squeeze as she listened, feeling a fresh wave of tears rising in her throat. Perez asked for her own strength as well; for the ability to accept the things she could not control and to guide her heart through her worry. Violet gripped her hands tightly, feeling tears slip down her cheeks as she willed those things for herself as well. Perez concluded her prayer with another tight squeeze. She kept Violet’s hand in her own as she lifted her head and brown eyes met Violet’s watery green. 

“He’s going to be alright,” Perez whispered. “One way or another. And so will you, Doctor Harris.”

Violet pulled the young woman to her and wrapped her arms around her tightly. Perez returned the hug. Violet sighed as her eyes shut again and felt the calm that came over her for the first time in weeks. The rot retreated for a moment and the chill that had overcome her body faded. 

“Thank you,” she whispered.

[axgmented]

wild ;

that's how everyone described the rookie of the turks. Not Elena, the seasoned blonde who stuck to the president's right-hand like a tick on a dog, but the feral little silver haired who laughs like lightning; the one who slinks around the president like a wall market whore. She's a shadow to the red-head, the second in command acting as a mentor of sorts through the years; if only he had been given the command to pull the trigger when the tank broke.

the bughuul, a moniker well earned on the field-- another little lap dog of the up and coming president; a tale that instilled fear in children, a demon who devoured their souls and tormented them well past death. Rem was a force, a savage and rabid jackal that would tear the throat out of anyone who so much as looked at Rufus with anything less than adoration in their gaze, sat quiet on the medical bay bed. Shoulders taut, spine straight and not so much as a crinkle leaving the sanitary paper lining the cushion beneath her as she tried to slow her breathing. A darkened tongue slid past a busted lip, lapping the crimson from the wound that would probably need stitches on the inside and more than likely, the turk would have to be sedated.

Her fingers flex on her thighs, working the throbbing out through her digits as the adrenaline wears off from the previous mission; she can feel the ache in her face, pulsing with the same beat as her heart. The carnage she left behind in her wake makes her smile, a breathless laugh leaving past those busted lips in near hysterics. They'll know its time for her injections; she's skipped them the past couple of nights, not trusting herself to inject that poison into her. Mother told her not to, which was why she came to med bay immediately after evac. Rem allows herself to recline, putting on the essence of cool, calm, and collected despite the way her heart hammers in her chest, how every cell in her body trembles and every instinct screams at her to run and lick her wounds in the comfort of her dwelling.

" how much longer, doc? " she calls to the empty room, letting lavender lids fall to conceal those devil-red eyes and wavering pupil; it wouldn't be long before it narrowed into a feline slit and she imagines the look of fear on the doctors face with a small, cocky smirk.

@shinramade

[islaytonlost]

What have I done? LB;MR Fic

First Part, Previous Part, Next Part

Dislamer: Do not give people offencive nicknames! Especially if it's based on a something that makes their life harder. Again, Alfrendi is not real. Please do not base your view of dissociative disorders off a fanfiction! ----------

Lying to Hilda hadn’t worked. On top of trying to catch Lucy now and figure out a strategy to confront the Agonni family, her seeing immediately through Al’s timid attempts to be Fendi had just gotten him sent home until he snapped out of it.

There was also the matter of them being shot and being off the pain medication hurt and he wasn’t allowed in the field.

Still, Fendi wasn’t happy, Al could feel his fiery rage pounding in the back of his head. Screw you! Fendi snaps at him, reastless.

Al sighs. They hadn’t gone home. Not being able to bring case files home (and Al returning all the ones that they’d stolen from the mystery room out of fear of being caught) they’d opted to walk around London. For someone who had just been shot, not the best idea but they weren’t exactly known for thinking things through.

They ended up walking to the cafe Lucy sometimes went to whenever she wanted to treat herself to fresh bread and fresh ingredients. A smile ghosts their face as they remember how she devoured sandwiches when they were in the middle of a difficult case. How she’d always insisted on taking breaks and getting him food. Even when they never asked.

A familiar voice rings out across the cafe, “two sandwiches please, and, ooh! Is that fresh?” she grins. Al looks up, full of hope filling his heart. This was their Lucy, who took joys in the little things in life, not caring about what other people thought. Definitely not caring about Fendi’s sarcastic comments on it.

She’d been so nice to the both of them. She hadn't needed to have everything explained to her, she’d taken in stride Fendi’s outbursts and been so patient with Al. He couldn't express how grateful he was for that. For being looked at normally. That’s just normal! You’re too easily pleased.

Maybe Fendi was right. Still.

Lucy waits at the counter, eyes scanning the room. They fall on Alfendi. After a word to the waiter she sits opposite him. Tenser than usual, “so, you’ve found me, what’s your next move.”

“I’m not sure,” Al responds honestly, “I wasn’t looking for you.”

She’s dangerous. Maybe Fendi was too wary, maybe he was right but he didn't believe Lucy would hurt them. She already has. He did know that. He also knew that there were people here. Everyone who had been killed in these puzzle murders were criminals. In some twisted sense that was justice.

They weren’t murderers.

You want to say that again?

They weren’t murders. It felt too nice to think.

“You slow or something?” Lucy was glaring at them.

Al sighs, “no, I was just wondering why you didn’t kill me.”

“I were sending a message,” she leans across the desk, slowly. Her manner clearly intended to make this seem like some kind of threat. Knowing Lucy it seemed silly, Al smiles slightly. 

The waiter comes over, placing two sandwiches between them. It really ruined the mood. The way Lucy’s face lit up convinced even Fendi she wouldn't hurt them. It was hard to remember she was even capable of shooting anyone.

“What was it trying to say?” he speaks, so calm.

Lucy frowns slightly at his manner, “It’s saying I mean business.”

“You mean we? I think you mean we. DIane’s working with you.”

This does shock her. Lucy’s eyes widen, “Diane.. Who’s DIanne?”

“I am 100% sure you’re working with Diane Makepeace. I’m 76% certain that she dragged you into this. You clearly didn’t think of this yourself.”

“You think I’m not smart enough? I know your type, you cops, you detectives, you think you’re so much better than me!” she glares, the fact he’d upset her was worrying.

“I know you’re capable, more than capable but you couldn’t kill me. I don’t know if you could have killed them but you couldn’t kill me. I don’t think you’re a murderer.”

“I shot you didn’t I?”

“I’m not dead.”

“Would you like to be?”

“No. Why would I want that? All I want is to do some good in the world.”

“You threaten to mutate your suspects. Cut their tongues out. You may be a good detective but you get it wrong enough to scare people.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What?” 

“I’m sorry.”

“What has you acting so placid? You scared I’m going to shoot you again?” Al starts smiling, giving it to Lucy to notice these things. To pick up on them and not say something stupid, “and why are you smiling?! What are you hiding?”

“I’m not hiding anything. I truly do think it’s wrong to threaten suspects with cutting out their tongue.”

Suck up!

“Okay what happened?” Lucy was so taken aback, it was like when they first met and he’d just thrown her into her first case. He couldn’t seem to get rid of the smile.

“You want to know the truth?”

“Why else would I ask?” she snaps back, fingers creeping towards the sandwich.

“I’m not the Alfendi you know, I’m the other person living here. A friend called me placid.”

“You’re Potty.”

“It’s Placid actually.”

Lucy glares, frustrated, a slight smile tugging at the corner of her lips though, she could smell the mystery. Then a blonde stops at their table Al felt his feelings drain from him as Fendi’s anger suddenly flushed. Diane.

Now would be a good time to arrest her but he was injured and these people could get hurt. 

“Is he bothering you?” DIane takes the second sandwich.

AM I BOTHERING HER? WHO KIDNAPPED WHO, LET ME OUT!

Al struggles to stay in control, Lucy says something, shaking her head, eyes lingering on him. It was so hard to concentrate because Diane was going to hurt Lucy. She was going to hurt Lucy. She was going to hurt-

And they were gone, just as Fendi bursts to the surface. They caught a taxi just as he stood up.

I hate you Fendi thinks, so fiercely Al wanted to hide, instead he did nothing, allowing Fendi to leave. Go stomp it off.

I’m sorry. He says after about half an hour, I’m the one who made this deal, I convinced you it’s just… She tried to hurt her before. A long pause. I’m so sorry. Thank you, for not annoying her into shooting us again.

[ddickey]

Manufactured Lament

by D. Dickey

For a brief moment, no longer than ten years, which wasn’t too long, all things considered, the city seemed on the verge of greatness. Nestled at the mouth of Lake Michigan, it had served as a portal for steel manufacturers to transport their goods to and from Gary and Chicago, both voracious consumers of raw and processed steel. Houses bloomed in fields until no fields remained. Streets and sidewalks, buildings and stores and factories filled the city. The leaders of industry diversified, and soon a Pullman boxcar manufacturer popped up. By the lake, a cough lozenge manufacturer erected a simple, box-shaped building. The city boomed, as people would say. Incomes increased, and along with it the accoutrements concomitant to disposable income: pools and swings and cars, some excessively luxurious, and general stores packed with disposable goods, all of which people devoured, people looking to fill their lives with evidence of their squandered time. Then voodoo economics and global trade deals crushed the steel industry, and the port withered and died. Chasing jobs, people fled. Poverty replaced prosperity. Drugs and alcoholism, crime and violence, anxiety and depression and suicide scarred the faces and fattened the bodies of everyone left to rot in the city. Paint on buildings and signs and fences chipped and faded, and concrete cracked and broke. Gray replaced color. The world seemed to dim. Every once in a while, sometimes twice a month, the sky over the city cracked: blood and sulfuric effluvia drenched the city. The poor bastards buried in the bottom-most levels of the social strata, left to rot when the wealth of the middle class fled, watched as the faces of their friends and loved ones drooped. No one understood the affliction. Doctors hypothesized neurological disorders possibly caused by an ecosystem poisoned by decades of industry, but they nixed the neurological argument when faces melted and slid off and merged with the flesh on chests or necks or stomachs or arms. Something else was clearly at work. That no one seemed to notice or care, that doctors only treated it with anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medication didn’t evoke questions from anyone passing through the city. Most people, those with money who passed through town, dismissed the affliction as a problem relegated to the impoverished. In some way, people argued, it was probably their fault—maybe not directly; perhaps it was the product of poor upbringing, or genetics. At any rate, people said, there wasn’t much use in worrying. ‘My life’s good,’ one traveler said, ‘my face’s intact; why should I worry?’ The old woman, who lived in the abandoned post office, known to everyone in town as a ‘crazy witch,’ laughed when she overheard the traveler’s apathy. ‘The way things are going,’ she said, ‘the sky over every city will crack, and every face will soon droop and melt.’ The traveler ignored her. Everyone ignored her. And when the sky over cities around the country–around the world, even–cracked and bled, and faces drooped and melted, entire populations ignored the problem, pretended it didn’t exist, by focusing on alcohol, drugs, sports, and pop culture. ‘I mean, really, there’s nothing to worry about,’ a local community organizer said. He was a prominent billionaire, face intact, who lived in a neighborhood enclosed in a dome and often acted as the voice of the people. ‘This is something that happens,’ he said. ‘It’s important now, it’s absolutely critical, that we carry on with our lives. We as citizens must continue shopping, go on vacation, go to college, accumulate as much debt as is needed to help our struggling economy. Faces change. Yes, some even melt. But it must not prevent us from living our lives, from raising our children, from playing our part in maintaining the economy.’ Footage of his speech played on repeat on news broadcasts around the country. Few people expressed alarm when his cheek twitched and his eyelid sagged mid-way through the speech. Sometime later, he retired from public view.