#she'd probably kill me on sight but it's fine

[gothicfied]

Cho Hyun-ju / Player 120 Headcanons

Pairing: Cho Hyun-ju / Player 120 x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death/dying, killing, guns/gunshots (typical squid game stuff), other than that it's just fluff, not proof read (english isn't my first language)

જ⁀➴ Watching Hyun-ju during the six-legged pentathlon, you couldn't help but be amazed. She was a leader, a fighter, someone who didn't and wouldn't give up, that much was sure. It was amazing to see her lead her group to victory, to safety, being the one to push them and encourage them. Everyone cheered, obviously including you, and it truly was an amazing feeling to see them all get away with their lives. You weren't so sure if you'd make it, too.

જ⁀➴ Thankfully, you did. Your group barely scraped by and you just decided that you needed to be on Hyun-ju's team. Hesitantly, you approached Geum-ja, who immediately noticed your small figure and agreed in a heart beat to let you join their little group.

"You were great back there, you know?" You told Hyun-ju with a shy smile while she was sitting on the stairs, originally just observing Yong-sik getting scolded by his mother again. "Hm? Ah.. that was nothing." she replied back, shaking her head when smiling up at you. "I think everyone in here should be like you," you chuckled, "like, actually. We'd all benefit from it."

જ⁀➴ Hyun-ju's heart melted at all the nice words you would say to her, complimenting her braveness and strength. It made her feel more validated in her actions, which was the motivation she really needed in a place like this. Young-mi was equally excited to have you in their group now, having animated conversations with you about the things you had in common — And if she approved of you, Hyun-ju would, too.

જ⁀➴ Whenever you were scared, were having doubts about yourself or just needed someone to talk, Hyun-ju was there. It was almost like she felt it when you felt that way and she'd always listen to you and comfort you. Her hugs were warm and firm, perfectly calming you down after a particularly bad nightmare. In return, you also encouraged her to talk to you if she ever felt the need to, but everytime you suggested that she'd laugh it off. To Hyun-ju, it was enough to know that she brought you comfort, she didn't need anything in return. She did think it was adorable for you to say that.

જ⁀➴ To distract you from all the stress sometimes, she'd ask you about your plans for the future, about your hobbies and jusy about the things that made you, you. Hyun-ju was genuinely interested in getting to know you and was growing very fond of you over a short period of time.

જ⁀➴ After suffering through the third game together, and also a painful loss (rip Young-mi, my queen), everyone was going through it. Instead of everyone keeping it peaceful, they just decided to slaughter each other after lights out. Ever since losing Young-mi, Hyun-ju was very adamant on keeping you by her side at all times. She wouldn't make that mistake again and leave someone she cared about out of her sight.

The lights flicker like crazy above you, screams and the disgusting sound of people getting killed right next to you were the only things you could focus on right now. You were panicking, you were scared, you felt like you were going to cry and throw up. Hyun-ju had grabbed you by your hand and dragged you to the last corner of the dorm area, hiding you between some mattresses other players had set up. She was firmly holding you by your shoulders and telling you something you couldn't make up. Probably that everything will be okay or something. "Hey! Hey, please listen to me," Hyun-ju leaned in close, hugging you against her, "it's all going to be fine. We'll be okay."

જ⁀➴ In fact, you were. Obviously you were. Hyun-ju wouldn't say something she didn't mean — she wouldn't lie to you. She knew that winning someones trust was hard and the fact that you put so much of it into her filled her with pride.

જ⁀➴ Gi-hun had his mind set on a revolution. Anybody who could handle a firearm was supposed to step forward and take one of of the ones they took off the dead guards. You swallowed, locking eyes with Hyun-ju. She'd step forward, they needed her. You gave her a quick nod and a faint smile and she returned it, quickly stepping forward to help the others.

Geum-ja put a hand on your shoulder, claiming that she'll be fine and that she's far too tough to die out there. "They'll be back to get us out of here, don't worry about it." she said, tugging you by your sleeve, beckoning you to come with her.

When Dae-ho stormed in after a while again, hastily collecting the magazines out of the guards pockets, you were relieved, even if he seemed extremely beside himself. He had some sort of panic attack, so you sat him down on one of the beds, trying to reason with him, until Hyun-ju stormed in, making your facs light up. Oh my god, she's alive. She basically ran to Dae-ho, urging for the ammunition and kept asking him what happened.. so, this wasn't going according to plan at all. You assumption was confirmed by all the masked guards that flooded into the dorm area, holding the remaining players at gunpoint.

"Hyun-ju..?" your voice was shaky. Her eyes fell down on you, taking your hand into hers. "It's all going to be fine."

[emilyprentissluvr]

A Special Gift (Don't Blame Me: Chapter 7)

Emily Prentiss x Reader

Warnings: Typical Criminal Minds stuff

Words: 3.2k

EMILY WAS the first to arrive at Howard Barnes's apartment. She waited outside the door with her gun in her holster. Hotch had given her clear instructions to wait for SWAT and the rest of the team.

Emily had planned to wait, but when Hotch felt the need to reiterate it, she couldn't shake the feeling that she might be in serious trouble with her boss. 

Was it deserved? Probably.

But as long they caught Y/n, Emily couldn't care less about the consequences that came her way from doing so. 

"Geez, you got here quick," JJ panted as she jogged over to Emily. The three flights of stairs were enough to make her break a sweat, something that had never happened before she'd gotten pregnant.

"It was only ten minutes away from my apartment," Emily started as she turned to her friend, but was taken aback when she saw a deep gash from JJ's forehead to her eyebrow. A bandaid covers most of the cut. "Oh god. What happened, JJ?" Emily asked as her finger hovered over the bandaid, blood starting to seep through the fabric.

JJ quickly pushed away Emily's worried hands, "I was putting away the dishes and accidentally dropped a plate on my face while reaching for the top cabinet. I'm fine, Em, I didn't have time to glue it." JJ said softly.

"Okay," Emily nodded skeptically, "I have some medical glue in the car, I'll fix it after we're done here," Emily said, and JJ just nodded silently. Emily wanted to ask more, but she could hear the rest of the team from down the hallway, so she decided to save her questions for later. 

The SWAT team came, and when they cleared the apartment, they let the BAU in.

"Howard Barnes, a 28-year-old science teacher at Saint Luther High School." Penelope relayed on the phone from her lair at Quantico.

"Well, it was Y/n," Derek crouched down by the body, "Single gunshot to the head and the angel wing," Derek continued. 

Spencer was crouched next to Derek, noting the body's warmth and lack of rigor mortis,  "Time of death had to have been less than an hour ago," Spencer added.

"Damn, we were close. Did the neighbors call it in?" Rossi asked Hotch. 

Emily looked up from the body and saw Hotch staring at her blankly. And honestly, that look was scarier than his usual frown.

"I called it in. I was on the phone with Y/n when she shot him." Emily said, earning a resounding "What?!" from everyone.

"Why do you still have her number?" Derek asked.

"Why would she call you?" Spencer added.

"I'll explain later. Can we focus on the case, please?" Emily asked a slight pleading in her tone.

"Prentiss is right, let's focus on the case," Hotch told the rest of the team before turning to Emily, "Well, talk later."

Emily nodded, happy to delay the berating for later.

"Can you see if any of the students or staff filed a complaint or reported him," Emily asked Penelope as she recalled her phone call with Y/n.

"Hmm, let me check... Three years ago, a student anonymously reported Mr. Barnes for sexual harassment. Oh geez, the school didn't even look into it, they just swept it under the rug. Good thinking, Em." Penelope said as her fingers typed over the keyboard.

"Well, he fits victimology," JJ noted as she looked anywhere but the body. The nausea in her stomach started to roll at the sight and smell.

"How does she find all these guys, though?" Derek asked.

"Well, there's never a shortage of perverts in DC," Emily muttered, causing Hotch to send her another look.

Derek ignored Emily's comment as he gestured to the body, "I mean that this guy and all her other victims look perfect on record. Does she background-check every guy in the cities she kills?"

"Approximately 47% of the DC population is male, with a total population of 591,833-" Spencer started before Hotch abruptly cut him off. If the statistics had been relevant to the conversation, Hotch would have kept Spencer talking. "Garcia, would it be possible for her to create a computer program like that?" Hotch asked the technical analyst over the phone.

"I mean, it is possible. But hacking into sealed documents is a whole other ball game. Especially when its government sealed like some of the victim's files," Penelope answered.

"Okay, I want you to look deeper into that. See if there are any online forums that she could be using to find her victims," Hotch told Garcia before hanging up the phone.

Emily had been looking around the apartment, unintentionally tuning out the team's conversation, when her eyes landed on the kitchen counter. She'd completely forgotten that Y/n had left something for her.

The brunette walked over to the counter and saw a small gift bag and what looked to be a manuscript. 

Emily picked up the papers, flipped through them, and noted that there had to be at least 300 hundred pages of words. She felt someone walk up behind her before she heard Derek's voice, "What's that?" he asked as he looked at the papers in her hand.

"Something Y/n left for me," Emily sighed as she handed it to Derek and reached over to grab the gift. 

"Her next book?" Derek asked as he started to read the words on them, "Huh, I thought her being a ghost writer was a cover," Derek muttered to himself, referencing back to the first night they'd come in contact with Y/n.

Emily hummed in acknowledgment as she took out the tissue paper and saw a small gold charm at the bottom of the bag. She pulled a pair of gloves out of her pocket before grabbing the charm. 

She held it at eyesight and noted it to be some kind of bird. The embedded diamonds were shining from the kitchen light, and Emily knew this had to be expensive.

"It looks like a blackbird," Spencer said as he walked up next to her. "Blackbirds symbolize transformation, inner strength, and freedom," He continued as he observed the charm for himself. 

Emily frowned as she stared at it, was it some sort of sign? Did the symbolism have meaning for Y/n, or was this something else to throw the team off? Or maybe Y/n just wanted to impress Emily with something shiny. 

The brunette was still trying to piece it together when she heard a gasp from behind her. She and Spencer quickly turned around to see JJ flipping through the manuscript, "Oh my god," JJ said as she held the papers up to the team, "I know this book series! Will's nieces love it," JJ continued.

"Nieces?" Derek asked, practically voicing everyone's surprise that Y/n wrote novels for kids.

"Yeah, I think this is the fifth or sixth book in the series," JJ said as she recalled looking at the novels on the little girls' bookshelf, "The series is about an orphaned teenage girl named Angela, who's trying to solve her parent's murder. Or at least that's what I got out of the synopsis on the back. " JJ finished as she put the manuscript back on the table.

Hotch nodded as he took JJ's words in, "Do you remember the author on the covers name?"

"Ana Wells," JJ responded as she pulled her phone out and scrolled through her photos. "She's a real person, too," JJ said as she showed a picture of Will's nieces with a middle-aged woman at a bookstore meet and greet. 

"I'll have Garcia look into it more tomorrow," Hotch said as they all stared at the manuscript.

"I'm sorry, but this is just crazy." Derek scoffed, breaking the silence. "How the hell does she have time to murder hundreds of people, taunt us, and then also write what looks to be a best-selling children's book series."

"She's like serial killer Barbie," JJ muttered, her exhaustion and hormones enough to loosen her usual professionalism. Derek chuckled but was cut off by Hotch's sharp gaze. 

"She left all this for you?" Spencer asked Emily, getting the group back on task.

Emily nodded, "Yeah, but... I don't know why. Providing us with the manuscript and the name of the author she writes for benefits us, not her." 

"Well, maybe she's trying to tell you something with the manuscript and the charm." Rossi pointed out, and Emily just shook her head, "But what?"

"That's what we have to figure out," Hotch said, "But it's late, so we'll pick up tomorrow. Luckily, I was able to get a hold of Gideon, so he should be by tomorrow morning. Hopefully, With his insight, things will start making more sense." Hotch said before dismissing the team. Emily tried to escape, hoping Hotch wouldn't remember, but when she heard her last name ring through the apartment, she accepted defeat and turned around to meet Hotch's disappointed eyes. 

"A word," He said, gesturing for her to follow him into the hallway.

She nodded, instructing JJ to wait by her car so she could tend to her cut after her hopefully brief conversation with the unit chief. 

"Why did you not inform me you were talking to Y/n?" Hotch asked, getting straight to the point. 

"I was going to," Emily swears, "I just wanted to get enough out of Y/n before telling you." As she said it aloud, she realized how bad it sounded. But in her defense, it wasn't as if anything crazy had happened. 

"But that's not your call to make." Hotch said shortly, "For this team to work, I have to trust the people on it."

"And you can trust me. I just couldn't risk you cutting contact with the only lead we have."

Hotch raised an eyebrow at Emily's argument, "So, I can trust you, but you can't trust me to make the right calls for this team?"

"That's not what I'm saying-"

"Prentiss, if you're too close to this case, I will not hesitate to remove you from it," Hotch interrupted. 

"I am not too close to this case," Emily argued back, trying to keep her voice down and not yell like she wanted to. "I apologize for not telling you, but I'm getting somewhere with her, Hotch. And if you pull me off the case, chances are Y/n is just going to move on," Emily said.

Did Emily feel slightly conceited saying that? Yes.

But was it true? Also yes.

Y/n may have been toying with the whole team, but it was mostly Emily that she showed interest in, and Hotch and the whole team could see that. 

The Unit Chief thought silently for a moment before relenting. "Fine, you can stay in contact with her. But I want past and future conversations relayed through Garcia. And I want to be briefed every day."

Emily nodded, relief filling her chest, "Yes, sir."

Hotch studied the brunette momentarily, hoping he made the right call, "If you do something like that behind my back again, I will remove you from this case. Am I clear?"

"Yes sir," Emily nodded again before her boss dismissed her. 

Well, that had been easier than she thought. Honestly, she'd expected a lot more pushback from Hotch. But right now, they needed as many leads as they could get. 

A slight shiver ran through Emily as she headed to her car. The moon and the stars illuminate the parking lot, and Emily's reminded once again how late it is. " He read you the riot act?" JJ asked as she stood perched on the hood of Emily's car. Emily chuckled as she unlocked the car, "If it were any other case, he probably would," 

JJ hummed as she watched Emily pull out a medical kit from the passenger seat compartment. Emily motioned for the blonde to take a seat as she pulled out all the items she needed. "Jesus, JJ." Emily gasped as she carefully pulled the bandaid off and realized just how deep the cut was. 

"Maybe we should go to the hospital-" Emily started before JJ cut her off. "It's fine, Em. Just bleeding a lot." JJ insisted sharply. Emily held her hands up in surrender as she dabbed the cut with disinfectant. 

"I thought part of being pregnant meant your partner does everything for you," Emily said, trying to lighten the mood, and to her relief, JJ chuckled a little. "We both work full-time jobs and if I left everything up to Will, our house would be a wreck." 

Emily hummed, adding another tally to the reasons she disliked Will. 

"Well then, let him put away the dangerous dishes," Emily smiled as she pulled the medical glue out of the bag, "We can't be ruining our money maker," Emily teased as she held the cut together. "Ass," JJ muttered under her breath, and Emily smiled. 

She worked quietly as she patched up JJ's forehead. She was lost in thought when she felt JJ's eyes staring at her. "What?" Emily asked, not liking the look on her friend's face.

"It was Y/n calling you earlier, wasn't it," JJ said, her voice soft and lacking judgment. JJ didn't understand why Emily hadn't told them. But she trusted her friend and knew that there had to be a good reason for not telling the team.

"Yeah," Emily sighed as she finally put the bandage over the glued cut. "I know it was stupid; you don't have to tell me," Emily defended, an instinct even though there wasn't a hint of judgment in the blonde's eyes. "Did I say anything?" JJ chuckled, used to Emily's ways by now.

"Sorry. I just... I know what I'm doing."

"Again, did I say anything?" JJ said with an eyebrow raised. 

"No, you didn't" Emily shook her head, "Sorry, I just really want this case over," Emily muttered as she squeezed JJ's shoulder, signaling that she'd finished tending to her cut. 

"As do I. But I have a feeling that's not going to happen anytime soon." JJ said as she hopped out of the car. Emily hummed in acknowledgment before saying goodbye to JJ. She made sure her friend was safely in her car before heading out for the ten-minute drive back to her apartment.

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

It was 7:30 in the morning when Emily walked into the BAU. Usually, she was the one to cut it close, barely arriving to work on time. But she could barely sleep last night and couldn't stand the eerie silence that had fallen over her apartment. Hence, her being the first one at work.

Although, when she arrived at her desk, she saw three people in Hotch's office. The unit chief, Rossi, and what looked to be Gideon were deep in conversation, looking at case files. Emily's eyes widened at the sight of them. 

She knew Gideon was coming obviously, but it was still a shock to see the man. She was dreading the awkward reunion that was bound to happen in a couple of hours and decided to keep herself busy.

 Last night she had texted Y/n asking where she'd gotten the blackbird charm and about the manuscript.

But to her surprise, the younger woman never answered. Usually, Y/n would get back to her within 5 minutes, so what was going on? 

A part of her wanted to believe that it didn't have anything to do with the fact that she'd told Hotch about their contact. But she wasn't naive enough to believe that it didn't have anything to do with Y/n not answering her back. 

She decided to put her phone away and focus on the other case files that she'd neglected since coming across Y/n. 

It was about an hour later when the rest of the team slowly filtered through the bullpen. 

"Gideons here?" Derek asked as he sat at his desk, the surprise in his voice mirrored Emily's earlier in the morning. 

"Yup," Emily nodded. "I honestly didn't think he was going to come so soon."

Spencer scoffed, something so unlike him that Derek and Emily couldn't help but pause their conversation as they stared at the youngest profiler. 

Wow, this was going to be a long day. 

"Well, whatever he knows must be important if he's coming out of retirement to consult with us," Derek said with a shrug as they all stared at Hotch's office. The blinds were pulled down but the three senior profilers were still in there, none of them having left since Emily arrived. 

Spencer scoffed again, "It also means that he's been close this entire time. We just weren't enough for him to want to come back." 

"Spencer-" Emily started with an empathetic sigh.

"I'm getting coffee," Spencer said, pushing his chair back forcefully as he practically stomped to the kitchenette, ignoring the concerned glances thrown his way. 

"I take it your guys's talk yesterday didn't help." Emily sighed as she turned towards Derek. 

"What do you think," Derek said as he gestured to Spencer who was furiously adding sugar to his coffee.  

Emily hummed when suddenly Hotch's office door opened. "Conference room. Now." He said as he headed down the walkway with Rossi following after him. Gideon gave Emily and Derek a small nod of acknowledgment before following after the two men. 

"This should be fun," Emily sighed as they headed to the round table. 

"Tell me about it," Derek murmured as he took his seat next to Emily. Spencer came in and sat as far away from Gideon as he could. 

As soon as the two blondes took their seat Gideon rose. "I know I'm not here under the best circumstances," He said and if it was possible, the room was even more stiff and awkward than it was before. 

"But I'm here to help you guys, and even if you don't want it, you're going to need it," Gideon said as he grabbed a small box from the floor next to him and put it on the table. "I was the one that sealed the case in 1992." He finished as he handed the files over to the team.

"Why would you seal an unsolved case?" Derek asked, the confusion written over his face.

"Because it's not unsolved. We found the Wood Stalker in March of 1992, dead in his cabin from a single gunshot to his head." Gideon explained.

"Why isn't that in any of the files?" Penelope frowned.

"It's not in any of the files because I wanted to protect the person that turned him in" Gideon sighed as he ran a hand through his short hair. 

"Who turned him in?" JJ asked.

"His eight-year-old daughter. Who was also the one that killed him." Gideon answered.

"What?" The rest of the team said in unison.

"I sealed it for her, she didn't need the whole world knowing what she'd done just to stay alive," Gideon said honestly. 

"And everyone was just okay with that?" Spencer asked snarkily, notable not about the case and more of the fact that it was Gideon he was talking to. "The brass was different back then. The killer was gone and that's all they cared about. Other agencies backed my decision, although I didn't understand their reasoning why."

"What agency?" Emily asked with a frown.

"CIA. And I still don't know why, but I think we're going to find out soon." Gideon said and Emily looked at him skeptically, "How can you be so sure?"

"Because your unsub, Y/n,  is the daughter of the Wood Stalker."

A/N: If I were to do a tag list, would anyone be interested in being on it? Thanks for reading!

[angelcake-222]

i can take her (not in a fight)

[archangeldyke-all]

okay i’ve seen people talk about werewolf sevika but what about werecat sevika like she gives off such cat vibes she’s an introvert who so would love sitting by her window or on her porch watching things also i’ve always headcanoned that she literally purrs when you scratch her head so werecat sev just makes sense to me

YES i fucking LOVE THIS

this is what i think sevika would look like in cat form btw hehehehehe (send me cats u think sevika would look like too! i want to see all ur ideas)

men and minors dni

it all starts with a loose lab-cat. singed had pumped the thing with shimmer and underestimated its strength. he returned to the lab the next morning to a broken glass cage, quickly followed by hissing and hollering coming from the bar.

sevika stepped on the cat's tail where it had been sleeping beneath a table. in return, the cat sunk it's claws into sevika's calf-- four deep scratches running down her leg-- dripping half blood red, half shimmer pink.

singed told her she'd be okay.

he told her to go home and sleep it off and that she'd be fine.

singed is a fucking liar.

the next full moon, sevika turns into a cat.

not a panther, or a lion, or a fucking tiger or something cool. a fucking house cat. and a tiny one too.

she didn't tell anyone. who could she tell? singed would just try to strap her to a lab table and start experimenting on her. silco would probably just laugh. jinx might be her best bet if she wanted answers, but she fears that jinx would do something horrible like pet her or something.

so she just... deals with it.

the more full moons that pass, the more used to it she gets, and the more she can transform herself at will without the moon's powers.

she kinda likes being a cat. it's useful as fuck in the undercity, with all it's steep walls and drop-offs. it gives her crystal clear vision, even in the deepest darkest streets; it gives her great instincts, even in her human form, and...

there's nothing quite like finding a stray beam of sun and curling up for a few minutes to snooze on a peaceful day. both in her human and cat form.

which is how she meets you.

you live on a high floor of a big apartment building in the lanes. it's miserable climbing up and down the stairs multiple times a day, but the nice thing about it is you're high up enough to get some direct sunlight in your home for a good few hours a day.

you don't have a cat-- your landlord would kill you. but you keep a two little pots of catnip and catgrass growing on your fire-escape, a little tin of water and some tuna or chicken when you've got scraps to spare.

you've got a few cats that come to visit you a few times a week, all varying levels of friendly.

the white stray visits every afternoon to snack on your plants, sometimes bringing a skinny orange friend along with her. you let them be, watching fondly through the window as they groom each other.

there's a fat tuxedo cat that you know has an owner somewhere in the neighborhood, that seems to know when you set out food scraps-- always there in a flash to gobble them up. he's friendly as hell, meowing incessantly at your window until you open it up for him and let him come in to get pets for a few hours before returning home for dinner.

there's a new litter of calico kittens you've caught sight of. you think there's five or six separate kitties, but you can never keep track because they grow so and change so much between your sightings of them.

and then there's your newest visitor.

she's a unique cat, silver eyes, only three legs, her left front leg missing completely. there's blue scratches running down her left side, shimmering in the sun when the wind blows her fur away enough for you to see them.

and she doesn't eat any of your plants, or drink any of your water. most of the time, you come home and find her sleeping in a ray of sun. and every time when she wakes up and realizes you're home, the cat will jump up on your windowsill and simply watch you; her tail twitching occasionally in the wind, purring loud enough for you to hear through the little window as her silver eyes follow your every movement inside.

.....

sevika's fucked.

she's so, so, so fucked.

she's been fucking stabbed, twice, and she's loosing blood so quickly that she's starting to see spots.

the men who stabbed her are chasing her, and she's leaving a trail of blood right to herself. no matter how fast she runs, she's not going to lose them.

she's so woozy that she almost forgets that she's got fucking magical powers. she ducks into an alley and quickly transforms, before sprinting away. that takes care of those idiots beating her to death-- but it doesn't change the fact that sevika's dying.

she doesn't know where to go.

the last drop is way too far for her to get there before she bleeds out. she's got no friends in this neighborhood-- and people down here don't have the spare time, money, or sympathy for a dying street cat.

wait.

she knows someone who likes street cats.

someone sweet, and pretty, and always smiling and talking to her like she can speak human language. she can, but she knows your other cat visitors can't-- and it just makes her like you all the more- - the idea of you talking to some clueless cat, just like you talk to her.

she makes it to your fire escape just before her three legs give out.

and while her vision starts to fade completely, the clouds overhead move and a beam of sun shines down on her, the smell of your cat plants wafting over her as the wind blows.

well, sevika supposes. if i'm gonna die i guess this is the nicest place to do it.

you come home and find a dead woman on your fire escape... which isn't a total surprise in this neighborhood.

it's only when you go out to prod at her that you get really freaked out-- because she's not dead, just barely breathing.

you scramble to pull the woman inside your apartment, spreading her out on your bed and nearly throwing up at the sight of two deep stab wounds in her sides.

you've got some shimmer stored in your medicine cabinet in case of emergencies, and you quickly slide the liquid down her throat before scrambling to find something to stitch her side together with.

you aren't sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing when she starts blinking awake, groaning in pain and weakly trying to shove you away from her wounds.

"hey hey hey, wake up." you say, shaking her shoulders. she grunts and scrunches her face up. when her eyes blink open, your stomach twists.

you've never seen eyes that silver besides on the cat that comes to visit you. they're different on a person. much more attractive.

"uh..." you say, trailing off for a second suddenly realizing that the woman beneath you is very naked. and now that you're looking at her, the blue scars on her left side seem awfully familiar. you clear your throat. "uh, wake up." you say again, gently smacking her cheek.

she gasps awake when you start stitching up her second wound. "fuck!" she shouts. and then, she seems to process where she is. "fuck." she says.

you gulp. "uh, i'll get you a blanket." you offer.

sevika nods numbly as you-- the woman she's been shamelessly peeping on for the past year-- stumble out of your bedroom.

"i thought you were dead, honestly, and then you started moving and i got really freaked out. gave you some shimmer-- i hope you don't mind." you ramble as you walk back into your room, throwing a blanket over sevika. "is there anyone i should call for or...?"

"you're even prettier up close." she says. then she cringes.

fuck she didn't mean to say that. it must be the blood loss. and the shimmer. and your pretty eyes.

"uh..." sevika watches as you start to back away like you're scared, and she huffs before she gathers all her energy and transforms into her cat form. "what the fuck?!" you squawk as the woman in front of you disappears in thin air.

and then, a little lump under the covers starts to move.

and the three legged silver eyed cat comes crawling out, two new wounds on her side.

"what the fuck?" you ask, immedietly reaching forward to pet the cat in front of you. you don't consider that the cat is a woman-- it's your natural instinct-- you see a cat, you pet it.

but then the woman's back and your hand is in her hair and she's blushing all the way down to her tits which you can see because she's still naked.

"wha--"

"i'm sevika."

"hi, sevika." you giggle, slightly hysterical. sevika's blush gets even darker. "i'm--"

"i know." she cuts you off, then bites her lip in embarrassment and presses her head harder against your hand, like she's a cat. well, you suppose she kinda is. "i... sorry for stumbling into your life like this. i thought if i died as a cat i died in real life." sevika shrugs. "guess the whole nine lives thing is true, though."

"i don't--"

"i can leave, if you give me a pair of sweats or someth--"

"no!" you squeak. sevika smiles, and now you're embarrassed. "i-i mean... you're injured. you should stay until you're better..." sevika raises an eyebrow at you. "plus... you're kinda cute."

she grins. "as a cat or...?"

"fuck off." you giggle, crawling into bed beside her. "you've fucking... been watching me for a year! it's only fair i get to interrogate you, too, you creep."

"i-i'm not a creep!"

"you've seen me naked!"

"you didn't seem to mind at the time..." sevika pouts.

you can't believe how ridiculous this whole fucking situation is. sevika's blood drying into your mattress underneath the pair of you, but her skin is becoming more vibrant as the shimmer works through her system, flashes of pink sparkling in her silver eyes. she's practically purring as you scratch her scalp. you burst into laughter, and sevika grins up at you.

when you finally catch your breath, you shake your head and look down at the only sorta-stranger beneath you. "so, what are you... a werecat, or something?"

sevika groans before bursting into laughter with you.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @claude999 @nhaaauyen

[bigraggatheopstoppa]

LITTLE MONSTER

chapter 2 mentions of blood, killing, murder, chaotic/ criminal? Au (I made this tf up) chapter 1

We finally arrived at our over crowded place we call home, honestly being there felt like a bit of a drag to but that's only for half of the time.

You seemed strangely alert now. Like you just realized your existence. You're looking all around the car, like it's the first time you've ever seen one— odd.

Nanami kept side eyeing you the whole ride, trying to make sure you wouldn't do some crazy shit but you were just enthralled with.. the seat belt..?

”hey um, do you need help taking that off?”

The sound of nanami's heavy voice gave you quite a jump, but you quietly shake your head and take off the seatbelt. You step out of the car and your eyes widen and wonder all over the house. Just a regular two-story house with probably four bedrooms

Sukuna gruffs past you, bumping your shoulder and almost making you go off balance.

Why is he so mean? Not like you did anything.

The four of you enter the sleeping house only to immediately have the bright shining lights glare into your eyes. Your eyes focus and you see a tall brown haired woman with a mole under her right eye. Heavy eyebags decorate her face as she takes a huff out of a cigarette.

You tilt your head in confusion as her eyes scan over you, what are her and the blonde talking about?

”so your best idea was bringing her home?”

Shoko says with much sass, I mean it wasn't the smartest decision but hes tired and he wasn't (still isn't) thinking correctly ”i couldn't really ignore her. She's a sight to see”

Shoko leans over to grab another glance at you, covered in dry blood, dirt and grim. You looked like you've been through one of the worst moments in a person's life and yet your face doesn't portray it.

Soft doe eyes that almost looks blacked out if you don't shine sunlight into your eyes. Round doll face with caramel skin, you look like you came from Lalaland and entered a blood bath.

”hm I agree. Fine, I'll check her out but in the morning you buy me more beer and cigs”

Nanamin sighs with a smile of relief, he was half not expecting her to actually check you out

”deal”

Shoko starts to coo at you to come here like you're a shy puppy. She guides you to a stool in front of the counter,

”Can I check your stomach?”

shoko feels up under your gown, hands trailing your sides before reaching the sides of your stomach. Your eyes trail her movements, wondering what she could possibly do next, it really seems you were in a world of oblivion.

”Im gonna check you for wounds now, alright?” you continue to stare blankly as her cold hands roam up your thighs and legs. Instinctively you kick her, not hard but enough to give her the idea to back off.

”twitchy are we? Alright no wounds there then. Are you bleeding anywhere?”

Shoko starts to coo at you to come here like you're a shy puppy. She guides you to a stool in front of the counter,

”Can I check your stomach?”

shoko feels up under your gown, hands trailing your sides before reaching the sides of your stomach. Your eyes trail her movements, wondering what she could possibly do next, it really seems you were in a world of oblivion.

”Im gonna check you for wounds now, alright?” you continue to stare blankly as her cold hands roam up your thighs and legs. Instinctively you kick her, not hard but enough to give her the idea to back off.

”twitchy are we? Alright no wounds there then. Are you bleeding anywhere?”

You shake your head, you seemed perfectly fine in Shoko's eyes. Further inspections can be done in the morning, it'd be too tiring to do a whole checkup now then later, besides she knew she'd probably have to patch up Gojo and Geto before the night was all the way over.

”alright well, you can't sleep in those uhm.. dirty clothes. I'll get you some spares.”

Shoko goes deeper into the house to fetch you some cleaner clothes but upon return, you've already changed your clothes. Cropped shirt with some shorts and fuzzy thigh highs, all in pastel and soft colors.

”you didn't mention you already had clothes, guess I wasted a trip then”

You just shrug your shoulders and look around, your pink mini bag was still on, almost like you refused to take it off— but that's not really Shoko's problem to deal with, she's not the one to do laundry

”tonight you can lay on this pullout couch, fold it back up in the morning”

And with that lazy job of a physical, Shoko goes back upstairs to her 'room' or whatever you'd like to call it. Nobara's leg half off the bed, cuddling with one of the wolfish dogs.

It almost seemed to be no room but it still works— Shoko lays on the on the far edge of the bed close to the wall as she falls asleep, it may be crammed but it's comfortable enough.

Your eyes flutter open, almost in shock to see a albino man looking back at you. His wide crystal eyes pour into yours as he analyzes your face.

”hmm”

“satoru get outta her face like that. Your being extra”

”oh really? She's literally sleeping in our bed”

”if you'd listened to shoko like a responsible adult then you'd know Why she's in our bed”

”well whyyyyy is she here since you wanna smart ass?”

”nanami found soaked in blood on the side of the road and brought her here for a checkup”

”since when did we take in stray's?”

”shes not a stray satoru she's a person in need”

Gojo rolls his eyes and continues to try and coax you out of the pullout bed. Its honestly quite laughable with how he's behaving— like a spoiled child who doesn't wanna share toys, space, or even breathing room.

But even with Gojo's whining and complaining you are still in the slow process of waking up. You take a gaze around the living room— the smell of weed and beer fill your senses as you get a look around.

Ash is scattered around the room with empty beer cans, old takeout left around the counter and weird sticky balloon..?

The house looks lived in or in other words a fucking mess, but you've seen worse. Way worse

You sit up and make your way to the counter to where the tall pretty black haired man is making coffee. You sit at the island and just watch him in silence.

Suguru turns around and slides a cup of coffee to you from behind the counter as he examines you himself. No scars, no scratches, no bruising to even show what nanamin had described. You just look like you came out of a cotton candy factory

Hell, even your face expressions don't even show any signs of trauma.

”can you tell me your name sweetheart?”

You perk up at the name sweetheart. You remember someone calling you that before but, it wasn't in a nice way. You don't respond and you continue sniffing and inspecting the coffee

”dont wanna talk? That's fine.”

It’s been a bit over a hour and you still haven’t really said anything. You’ve asked suguru to to refill your coffee a few time but you didn’t have to use words to ask that.

You gaze in and out of reality until the sound of fingers snapping in your face makes you jump back to reality and realize your surroundings. The white haired one is looking over you and asking more condescending questions

“Helllooo? Are you even listening?”

Satoru huffs as he slums over to continue to mess with you

“I was askingg—UGH, do you know where you live?”

You slowly shake your head, eyes wide and just staring back into his deep icy blue eyes. They seemed to go on for infinity

“Do you have any family or somewhere where we can drop you off at?”

Again you shake your head no, which only earns a groan from Satoru

“What So you just don’t have any family?”

You shrug your shoulders

“How can you not know!?!”

The ingrowing scowl on his face seems to be more prominent at his unhelpful information gathering attempt.

Hours later and you’re still sat at the counter top. You were told you could sit back at the couch but it seemed you were fine with just sitting there and looking out the window. A few hours later nanamin comes back, him coming through the door seems to be the only thing grabbing your attention

Your eyes immediately dart to look at him as he’s coming through the door with a drained look on his face

You don���t say anything to him, you just watch as he walks past you, to the fridge and grabs a beer and downs all his hard day’s frustration. Luckily it’s Halloween break at his job (just the weekend and two days off, super shit but we don’t mention it) so he has all the time in the world to figure out your mess.

“Did she say anything?”

Gojos eyes subconsciously roll as he answers

“No! Dumb brat didn’t say a thing. The only things we know are: She doesn’t know where she came from, she doesn’t have any close relatives and she doesn’t have anywhere to go”

“Did you check her wrist?”

“Why in the hell would I do that”

“Because it’s a hospital tag. It says the place she came from”

…

All that struggle… and for what? Because gojo couldn’t use his very pigmented eyes??!?

Gojo basically hops over the couch and yanks your wrist to read the fine print of your wrist band, the text was faded but still readable a bit

‘Dr. Smileys Happy Asylum’

Odd name for a said “Asylum” And the address was funky to, Yellow brick drive? The fuck? Either your lying about being from the hospital or you just didn’t realize you were in a fucked up one

“Wow nanami this is soooo helpful.. yeah this shit doesn’t help much either”

“Maybe we could just, research the damn doctor?”

With all gojos unhelpful sarcasm it’s really getting to him tonight.

You on the other hand weren’t much help either, you just sat and watched the two be passive to each other. On the inside you thought it was a bit funny at how the two gave good suggestions but never actually doing them.

Maybe they can get somewhere tomorrow but today was.. was just unbearable.

“Okay since you wanna act like a fucking child when you’re a full gown goddamn adult I’ll just take her to work with me tomorrow.”

Nanamis sudden switch in tone makes you and Gojo finally realize that he’s maybe a tinnyyy bit done for the night

“no it’s fine. She can just come with me a and geto”

Gojo felt a bit guilty purposely putting up this much of a defiance to nanami, like yes he really didn’t get why your here but it seemed a important to nanami so he would try and make whatever he’s trying to do easier

“I appreciate that gojo” a weary sigh escapes his lips as he finally distresses “you and geto can have your spot back she can just, sleep with me tonight. We will figure this out more tomorrow”

hope you enjoyed this chpt somewhat. Getting started on the outline now and sorrrrryyyyy for the long wait, life go crazy haa… as always, all copyright belongs to @raggasopretty and @bigraggatheopstoppa posting on another sight, translation, and ect will make me rock ur shit <3

Tag list:

[princesssmars]

when you hear a franctic knocking at your door and find a crying victoria covered in blood, you're stuck in place as you take in the sight in front of you.

victoria never cries.

you usher her in and have her stand in your hallway, trying to think lf the best course of action in a hurry so she wont have to dwell in whatever happened. you gently guide her to the bathroom, telling her to clean herself off while yku took her clothes to wash them while you made her something warm to eat. she nodded without a word.

she'd told you before what to do in emergencies like this, infrequent 'work related accidents' that she hoped youd never have to deal with but wanted you to be prepared regardless. it's why she was so hesitant to accept your first invitation for coffee, why she insisted you stay in an inconspicuous but cozy apartment she half paid for with complicated locks and hidden security cameras she could access with a tap on her phone.

she insisted on protecting you. from exactly what, you weren't sure. but you trusted her, trusted her enough to relentlessly scrub away the dark red in her pantsuit with soap and baking soda as her meal cooked on the stove. a hefty serving of peas and carrots stew - bazella w riz - that she once confided in you was her favorite dish as a child. after you manage to scrub a good chunk of the blood away you set it in the dryer to warm for when she leaves in the morning, pulling out a set of pajamas you bought for when she stays over. the brown fleece set matching the white one you were currently wearing.

you set the clothes on the side of the bed that faces the bathroom, the sound of the shower still audible. at this point, she's been in there for half an hour, but you won't disturb her. you know she needs some time to be alone before she can open up to you.

just when you turn off the eye for the finished stew your ears picked up the gentle click of the bedroom door followed by the soft plap-plaps of her slippers before you feel the heat of her chest on your back and her arms ensnared around your waist.

"im sorry. about all of this."

"its fine. you know its fine."

she goes quiet again, silently watching you pour the stew into a bowl before setting it down on the coffee table, patting the seat next to you on the couch. you'd normally insist she eat it at the dining table, but you decided to be lenient just this once.

she leaned forwards as she scarfed down the food, probably the most impolite you'd ever seen her. when you told her so she just mumbled out a 'm'sorry' before eating some more.

once she finished she let out a sigh as she leaned back into the couch, gripping your arm when you started to clean up after her and pulling you back down. you smile, about to lecture her for being so clingy when she speaks.

"tony. i killed tony."

your smiles fades. you wait for her to say she was telling a not so funny joke, that she hadn't actually killed her closest friend from her time at red river. but she doesn't, just stares at the empty space on the couch between you.

"i...im sorry. i know how much he meant to you."

she softly nods, hand coming up to wipe away a stray tear.

"you're comforting me after you just washed my friends guys out my clothes?"

you move in closer when you hear voice get low, guiding her head down to lay on your shoulder and bringing omenof her legs to settle over yours.

"of course i am. i know you wouldn't have done it without a reason. you did have a good reason, right?"

"yes. yes, i did. he would have exposed me he..he almost killed me."

her hand twitches, a tell tale sign that shes nervous.

"then you did what you had to do. no matter what happens, im staying here. by your side. ok?"

her head moves to look at you, taking her hand from yours to tilt your head so she can place a gentle kiss to your forehead. she guides your head to rest on her fhest, laying back in the couch with your bodies entangled.

"ok."

[thefruitiestofbois]

We just needed time- pt2

"Maria I'm going. It's final." My tone is icy as I make my point. I stand by my decision and I'm not turning back now.

"It isn't safe. You don't know how many of them there are- in fact you don't even know where you're going."

"Seattle. That's where I'm going." I counter and Maria slams a finger down onto the table in disapproval. Mostly she's frustrated that I'm insisting on going alone. It would be safer that way, less chance somebody else dies because of me.

"Deep down you know that it's better I get to them first before they come back with bigger numbers. Before they come back to Jackson. It's safer." She holds my gaze, nostrils flared, defeat crawling up her face. "You can't stop me." I add before she swipes her greying hair behind her ears as Tommy offers a comforting squeeze on the shoulder. Almost as if to tell her that all three of us in the room know I'll just sneak out without her blessing. Two weeks ago Dina and I ran into a group from Washington looking for a smuggler and a girl. They told us they weren't looking for trouble and that they just wanted to know where a man by the name of Joel Miller was as well as the girl he smuggled. Obviously, we both said nothing. Didn't even tell them he was already dead because Abby, who I assumed was the leader, seemed to be on some kind of vengeance mission. She seemed disappointed that we didn't know him and not the type of disappointment where she wishes she could just reunite with him, but the type that was fuelled by vengeance. She looked pissed. If reading the room hadn't been enough, the day after, when I tailed them to the mansion, I overheard Abby telling some Owen guy that she would be back and that she'd 'storm Jackson and find Joel and Ellie, no matter the cost'.

I've been battling Maria for the past two weeks and avoiding Ellie. Not that avoiding her was difficult to do, she seemed to be doing the exact same. If I could go to Seattle and tell them Joel was already dead, maybe Jackson would be safe. Maybe Ellie would be safe. That was my redemption. Maybe if I couldn't keep Joel alive, I could keep Ellie out of harm's way. I wasn't looking for forgiveness, I knew Ellie would never give me that, but maybe I could earn her neutrality to replace the hatred she had for me. Or maybe I wanted to replace the hatred I had for myself.

"Just let her go, she'll probably be fine." Tommy soothingly attempts to convince her. She forces out a huff of angry air and just nods.

"Thank you." The hint of desperation in my words softens Maria's authoritative demeanour and she walks around the table and tugs me into a hug. A tight one at that and I wrap my arms around her, a silent cue that I'll be okay.

"You better not get yourself in trouble, or so help me God I will kill you myself. You got that?" I hum and head straight to the stables.

Ellie coincidentally happens to be returning from patrol when I'm loading up my saddles for what anyone could tell to be a lengthy journey. I had told Tommy to convince Maria to clear my house out just in case.

"Where are you going?" Ellie asks and its the first words she's spoken to me since our patrol a few weeks ago. Maria knew something was off so she didn't pair us together after that, especially after Dina and I's run in with the WLFs.

"Seattle." With that I mount my horse and ride out, not explaining myself further and leaving Ellie and Jackson behind me.

//

Gunfire and screams echo in the distance towards the direction of a stadium or arena. Conflict seemed to be pretty common and from what I've gathered after spending a few weeks in Seattle on my solo adventure, I've learnt a few things. There are two groups- the Scars and the Wolves, who I presumed were the WLF. They hated each other to the point where it was kill on sight. I'd been caught in the crossfire a few times, nothing major though, just flesh wounds. I've also learnt the Scars are some kind of cult and they worship some prophet, whose murals were scattered throughout Seattle. I had just come through a quarantine zone and a hotel with the WLF banner paraded on the front. The buildings here were tall and close together- great for hiding but horrible to navigate through.

My plan was to find a patrol and peacefully offer myself up but so far everyone has trigger happy, even at the snap of a twig. Seattle was at war, that much was obvious but the cause was still unknown to me. Not that I cared. I was here for Abby and the Wolves. The faster I could deliver my message, the faster I could go back to Jackson.

Everything was darker in Seattle, the clouds, the blitzed buildings and roads and even the plants and grass were a dark green. As I wade through the overgrown bushes in some park I stumbled into on my way to the hospital, a whistle further away on the opposite causes me to instinctually duck to cover. Seraphites. I was wondering if I'd encounter anymore of them. I go prone, keeping my body glued to the mud no matter what.

"We caught the apostate and the wolf. All that's left is to free them. May She guide us." That's all I make out as I crawl behind a barely recognisable bus stop, screwing my silencer onto my pistol, just in case. Another whistle, sharper this time, breaks the silence and I'd come to recognise it as a warning whistle, Well a warning for me and a signal to the other Seraphites that someone was hiding nearby. And then quiet. So quiet I held my breath just so I wouldn't be heard. Finger ready on the trigger I begin slowly creeping out behind the cover of the bus stop, and upon seeing the coast is clear, launch myself for the park exit.

"Right there by the bus stop!" I hear one of them call out but I don't look back as I race, chest heaving, to just make it out of here. But then I hear a bow firing and very quickly afterwards feel the searing hot pain of an arrow ripping through my right shoulder. Another bow fires an arrow into my left calf and I drop to the jagged concrete below, breath staggering as I clutch my shoulder which was now pooling blood through my shirt and jacket. I crawl as fast as I can away from the thumping footsteps that are getting closer with each passing second. I grunt out, clutching my shoulder tighter as agony rips through me as I aimlessly crawl forward.

The thumping stops by my ear and a strong hand throws me onto my back, knocking the wind out of my chest. My dazed eyes meet ones with a satisfied sadistic glint accompanied by scarred cheeks pulled up as his lips curve into a smile.

"Look's like we've caught another Wolf for us to free."

//

As I stir awake, I wince as my restraints pull my arms back behind a wooden pole and widen the wound in my shoulder.

"Look's like the wolf is awake." The same man who knocked me out in the park pokes me with a wooden bat, forcing my attention onto him.

"How many times do I have to say it, I'm not a WLF." My voice barely makes it through my chapped and busted open lips and even then it was barely a whisper. This was routine- the man, who I now knew was called Marcus, would come in every night, rough me up, ask me questions and then acquaint me with his bat every time I answered a question wrong. And apparently, all my answers so far were wrong. I think seven or eight days must have passed since the day they caught me. Maybe more. I don't know because I hadn't exactly been conscious the whole time I was here.

"Where is your leader?" He asks, fingers twitching around the handle of the bat, which by now I'm sure had been stained red with my own blood.

"Like I said before, I'm not even from this state so I have no idea what you cultist freaks are talking about." This time a faint echo of a laugh escapes my lips. Same questions, same answers, same beatings. I think I was starting to lose it. And as if Marcus knew his cue, he raises the bat, this time swinging into my side and I cry out but quickly gritting my teeth so he doesn't get the satisfaction. I fold into myself as much as my restraints and position on the floor allow me to. If I ever get out of here, I'm gonna swing that bat into his head so many times that he'll be a pile of bloody brains and wooden splints by the time I'm done with him.

A woman comes into the room and whispers something to Marcus and he seems somewhat disappointed and angry I think? The room itself was a shipping container turned into a makeshift interrogation/torture room. A single floodlight at the back of the room that always lit up Marcus' face while leaving me an aching shadowy creature for his amusement. Although I think he'd have no issue with inflicting pain even as he looked into my eyes. My head dips low as the exhaustion I've been fighting off for days finally creeps up into my eyelids.

I wince again as Marcus prods me in the same bruised spot he hit earlier and I jolt awake.

"No time to sleep wolf, we're taking you to be freed." Call it a hunch but I don't think my version of being freed and theirs matches up. Marcus keeps a gun trained on me as the woman unties me, not even bothering to lift me up fully before dragging me by the back of my collar out the container and over muddy tracks further into the forest. Dirt scrapes into the tips of my worn out boots and the more she tugs at my collar, the more I feel my airways constrict and my head getting lightheaded. It's only when she throws me into the ground and I finally see the sky for the first time in a week that I regain some of my senses. Adrenaline surges through and every hair on my body stands up as corpses of gutted prisoners swing above me, some with their necks snapped as a rope is the only thing keeping them in the air. Well shit. I guess I'm not getting out of here. Like ever.

Another prisoner gets thrown into the ground next to me and when I meet their eyes, I'm shocked to see the one face I had set off to Seattle for- Abby fucking Anderson. She stares at me blankly for a few moments before the realisation sets in.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" She laughs in disbelief, eyes still blown wide.

"Well as luck would have it, I actually came to find you."

"Me? What do you want me-"

"Shut the fuck up!" The high shrieking voice of a woman orders us and I tilt my chin to get a look at her. Dread slowly freezes every muscle as I see her wipe her bloody knife with a cloth- a knife she had just pulled out of a strung up girl. The girl, who was still swinging, must have been no older than twelve. These sick fucks were torturing and gutting children. Throwing the cloth into the fire they'd set in a barrel, she edges towards us, calmly. She remained expressionless even as she knelt down to push the tip of the knife into my throat- enough to draw some blood but not enough to do any real damage.

"You have such beautiful features." The cool tip of the blade glides across my cheekbones and jaw.

"Beautiful enough to spare my life?" I was grasping at smoke but there's no rule dictating what someone can and can't say in their last moments.

"I see this one has a sense of humour. I think She will be pleased with sacrifice." Well that was not where I was hoping she was going. "Who knows maybe you might have the blood of Restoration flowing through you." These people are batshit crazy.

"Restoration?" I ask, genuinely baffled and Abby's attention is also drawn into our exchange.

"We found scriptures from the Prophet that have guided us to a new goal: a cure for the horrors mankind has inflicted upon this world. We are no longer atoning for these sins, but instead She will guide us to a new world. One in which demons are no more and only the best of us will thrive." A cure?

"Who exactly is the Prophet?"

"You question the faith?" She jabs at me with a sharpness exceeding that of the knife in her hand, eyes narrowed into slits.

"What's the blood of Restoration?" This time it's Abby who speaks and I know why she's asking. She was part of the Salt Lake crew and I was praying she wouldn't give anything away. My eyes silently plead with hers and she looks away from me, her face neutral.

"The scriptures tell us of an individual whose blood can cure this world of its demons. Their body must be purified and their blood spilled."

"Purified?" I can't help the anxious shift in my tone but I try and play it off as curiosity. The woman says nothing, and her silence is all I need to make my own assumptions. I silently beg Abby once more, this time a subtle shake of my head when the woman's back is turned away as she fixes two sets of rope into nooses. She turns back to me and Abby, a noose in her hand and she paces forward to Abby, tossing it around her neck and tightening it. Abby struggles against the restraints, her tip toes barely reaching the upside down bucket that's stopping her from hanging.

A Seraphite comes rushing into the opening of the forest we were in and calls out to the woman.

"The other Wolf confessed. We know who has the cure." Grins adorn both their faces, and a trembling frown appears on my own. He mutters something else to her but it's too quiet for me to hear over the sounds of Abby struggling. If I could just find something to cut myself free. But there's nothing. No way I could escape.

"Outsider, where did you say you were from?" I realise she's talking to me and I keep my lips tight. The flickering of the torch is slowly growing brighter as the sky grows darker and darker. Another storm must be coming. I drop my head back into the mud ignoring her and accepting reality. I was going to die and so was Ellie. My journey here had been for nothing.

Marcus rushes in, heavy thudding footsteps hammering into the ground as he pants out of breath that the 'apostate' has escaped. Well I guess someone would get out of this shithole, it just wouldn't be me.

"Go. Spread the word that our goal is completely clear: we must find the girl in Jackson and bring her to Haven." No, no, no. Fuck. Who told these sick freaks about Ellie? I was supposed to keep her safe and instead, she's going to die without even so much as a warning. I desperately needed to get out of here.

As Marcus hurries away, the whistle of an arrow fills the air and the woman drops limp to the mud as an arrow pierces her skull through her eyes. Lighter steps patter against the dirt and relief floods through Abby as she looks past me to a small child with their head shaved and scars on their cheeks just like the other Seraphites.

"Lev, thank god." Abby strains out as they cut her down, a thud sounding as she falls to the floor, heavy pants as she gets rid of the noose, red marks spanning her neck and mud smeared over her tank top. I drop my head back to the ground, staring up at the grey clouds and swaying branches until Abby's bulky figure comes into view, blocking the sun like some muscular eclipse.

"You're uh- you're blocking my sunlight." She questioningly raises a brow. "I'd like to spend my last few moments bathing in the light, I don't think they have a sun in the afterlife."

"Are you always this stupid?" She asks, still looming over me.

"Only when I'm close to death."

"You're not dying dumbass. Lev untie her. You're coming with us so you can explain exactly why you came to Seattle for me."

[burning-academia-if]

re: internet speed: hang in there!! your update will save me🙏🏻

I just got done with a long road trip (Massachusetts to North Carolina; about a 12 hour trek!) to visit family, and am physically drained but mentally wide awake- which is why I am up at 3:15am, excited to start a new save when it drops!!

to bring this back to the game- if you don't mind- would the RO's (poly included) ever do a road trip of this length with MC, while dating? would anyone overprepare, or outright refuse, perhaps unless MC genuinely couldn't fly for some reason?

(... dare I even consider what chaos would unfold if they managed to get like, a party bus for a group trip lmao)

Hi sorry to the prompts in my inbox the past week, got obviously sidetracked by the update lol I hope you got some rest after that trip!

also imagine all the ROs+MC going on a road trip together? 52 killed and 138 injured

Rook: He would thrive on a roadtrip, even if you threw him in the most cramped car imaginable and made him drive (pro tip: don't let him drive). He is chronically under prepared but he manages anyway. Hopefully MC is better prepared then he is

Beck: Over packs as a "just in case" type of thing. Stops maybe a little too frequently for gas as a just in case kind of thing. Is pretty comfortable throughout the trip and knows when to rotate driving as needed so neither of you feel too awful

Rhea: She would do her best but I don't think she'd fair well lol she hasn't ever driven so long so she has no idea how to prepare for it and would be asking you constantly before the trip. This is one of the few planning things you'd have to be in charge of

Zoe: They might be reluctant at first, especially since they're not the most comfortable driving and have really only driven locally. I imagine they'd accidentally get you both lost at one point and you're both just bent over the phone like "??? Where are we???" Very stressful but it kinda becomes a funny memory later

Lars: This has got to be the most serious roadtrip you've ever been on. He's focused only on point a to point b. You'll stop to grab food or gas, but doesn't spare a moment for sight seeing unless you pull out the Annoying Tactic (or just look really sad about it lmaO). At least you're guaranteed to get there safely

???: They have no idea how to drive or what a roadtrip even is so that's all on you lol. I think they'd make so many comments throughout that it makes the time go by fast though, and they'd probably be playing like word games with you or things similar periodically throughout the trip

Poly:

Rook/Beck: Beck makes up for Rook's carelessness. There's the occasional bickering along the way (kinda like a married couple lol) but it all feels light hearted and goofy and time goes by surprisingly fast.

Rook/???: This is the most chaotic roadtrip you'll ever be on. A whole lot of detours and distractions and wondering how you made it to your destination alive (it was because of you, probably). Despite the chaos it's also very fun and like an adventure

Rhea and Zoe: The two actually figure out the roadtrip thing a lot better together then they do apart. It's a very cozy trip with the occasional stop and sight seeing, with conversations that ebb and flow. It's a fine time

[the-way-astray]

Still on anon because Katie, Isa and Alayda are the only ones who know! Keep guessing, though... I find it fascinating.

Here we are with chapter 4! Good to know I'm the non-cringey-strieefe-fic-writer (also known as the North Carolina anon, Noodles Cold anon, Nutritious Chickens anon, Nearsighted Cows anon, Nefarious Cackling anon, and anything else that abbreviated to NC because Stria apparently cannot use context clues <3 said with love of course)

and naturally, stria, to ease your concerns: you are the first to read these. No, alayda, katie and isa do not get to see it first. These are not beta read and typed directly into your ask box and sent.

—————

Title: Never Change chapter 4

Pairing: Stria x Keefe

—————

Who was Stria, and why was she hailing Keefe?

Sophie frowned at Keefe's imparter, which was the one currently buzzing in her hands. Should she answer? Obviously Keefe couldn't. The thought made another dizzying storm of worry kick up again in her chest, and she glanced over in Keefe's direction, wondering if he'd suddenly wake up to tease her about how concerned she was about him.

He didn't.

In a split second decision, Sophie answered. "Hi... who is this?" she asked.

The girl on the screen, Stria, blinked a few times, as though adjusting to having the sun in her eyes. "You're not Keefe."

"I'm Sophie." She wasn't owed answers about what happened to Keefe. Who was she?

"I know." Stria caught herself, cursing softly under her breath. "I mean..."

"It's fine," Sophie said curtly. Most people recognized her by her brown eyes. "Not to be blunt, but who are you?"

"No, that's a perfectly reasonable question," Stria agreed. "I'm... I met Keefe about a week and a half ago. He'd heard the rumors that I... he'd heard some rumors about me and wanted to talk."

And he hadn't told her about it?

Rumors that she what?

Sophie trusted her boyfriend, of course, but something about how frustrated and furious she was with him right now led her mind to go spiraling down insane roads. "So you talked... and you're hailing to talk again?"

"Well, we were going to grab milkshakes, and he canceled with no notice or explanation, and I was worried something happened to him." Stria looked away. "Especially since the Healing Center is closed..."

Sophie blocked out the part of her mind that was telling her that sounded like a date. She didn't have time for unwarranted jealousy right now. If Keefe had never mentioned her, it was probably because she was irrelevant—not because he was trying to hide that they were talking. It fully made sense that this girl would be worried about a last minute cancel.

"So... is he okay?" Stria asked hesitantly.

Sophie automatically wanted to say yes. But it would be a lie, and Stria, whoever she was and whatever she thought Keefe intended by going to "grab milkshakes" with her, deserved the truth.

But Sophie couldn't say the truth.

There was the fact that she couldn't get into any Black Swan/Neverseen details, but also the fact that recounting Keefe's absolute stupidity before she'd even had the chance to talk about it with him (or just yell at him, which also might become necessary) felt wrong.

Sophie went with, "He's injured."

"How bad is it?"

Sophie glanced over at Keefe. His chest was rising and falling at a normal pace now, though Elwin was still keeping him sedated. Sophie had to look away quickly. The sight of all the bandages... it was worse than it had ever been for him.

Was he ever going to learn?

Or would he keep testing fate until it killed him?

Sophie didn't realize she hadn't answered until Stria whispered, "Bad, huh?"

Sophie turned back to the imparter screen, choking out, "It could be worse." She couldn't talk about this with a stranger anymore. Everything was still too fresh. "I'm sorry, Stria, but I have to go."

"Of course. I... well, thank you for telling me."

The screen went dark.

Stria stared at the blank imparter screen, still digesting the news.

Sophie looked like she hadn't slept in days. Given what she'd read of the books, this didn't surprise her, but she'd been a mess. And the way she'd looked away from the screen, like she was glancing over at Keefe on a hospital bed, recovering from a potentially fatal injury...

Somehow, she could feel Sophie's pain herself, just from the expressions. Stria had a sudden realization in that moment, though she wasn't sure why her brain decided to supply it to her now:

She wanted Keefe to live.

Irrelevant, of course. She wouldn't wish death on anyone, even if she hated that person. But her brain then supplied her with a far worse realization:

If Keefe died, and the last thing she'd ever told him was how much she despised him...

Why should she care?! She did despise him, and there was no reason to feel guilty about it just because he got injured, probably mostly by his own fault!

She should be allowed to think that! Why did it feel awful to think that?

She stood up abruptly, sliding the imparter into her pocket. She needed to go for a walk. She needed food or a drink or something. She needed to walk with a really bad coffee drink that tasted bitter in her mouth to give her a reason for feeling so... whatever this was.

As soon as she stepped out of her appartment, she began to walk briskly through Atlantis. At one point, she passed by a milkshake shop. In the window, they were advtertising her favorite flavor. She was looking for a drink, after all.

She walked past the shop as fast as physically possible.

She focused on her feet hitting the ground, one after the other. She looked down at her feet, watching them carry her along, and then—

—she walked straight into someone.

"I am so sorry!" Stria gasped as he regained his balance. Neither of them had fallen over—thank God, that would have been embarassing for them both—but his sketchbook had fallen to the ground. She reached down to grab it for him. She hardly registered that the book was flipped open to a certain page until she glanced at it, barely thinking about it.

Then she did a double take.

She recognized that art style.

And the guy in the art.

She knew this art style. And that character.

She contemplated telling him that it was a really good drawing of Keefe, just to watch him lose faith in the world for the last time, but decided that was too mean. "Max?!"

Max snatched back his notebook, looking at her warily. "How do you know who I—hang on. You're from KOTLC tumblr too, aren't you?"

"Yep."

"Give me a hint."

Stria wanted to say, I depsise Keefe, because she was sure he would get it right away, but the topic was too sensitive right now. "Aldella."

"Stria?"

"Yep."

"What are you doing on this side of the fourth wall?" Max asked, looking oddly perplexed for someone who was also on this side of the fourth wall.

"What are you doing on this side of the fourth wall?" Stria countered.

Max glanced down at his drawing. "He does have short hair. I confirmed it."

"You met Fintan?!"

"He also does follow American politics. And he reads warrior cats. Yes, he is the Fintan tumblr blog."

"So you came over to this side of the fourth wall to find Fintan?"

"What? No, I met Fintan back on our side of the fourth wall," Max explained, "and then I realized walking through the fourth wall was possible, so I thought, why not go get some solid art reference?"

"But you're still drawing Fintan."

Max shrugged. "I think it's in my genes."

"Wait wait wait. If Fintan is the tumblr blog, and he ships himself with Bronte—"

"I'm looking into that as well," Max added. "Now back to my original question. What are you doing on this side of the wall?"

Ouch. She actually had to say this, didn't she? "I kind of... wandered in with a group of people, not realizing this was where we were going."

"What group?" Max asked.

"Katie, Isa, Maddie, Lisa, Alayda, and Katie's cat."

Max blinked. "What were you even doing with that group of people?! I mean, not to say you can't have whatever friends you want, because obviously you can, but—"

"I was talking to Katie!" Stria sighed. "Well, arguing is a better word. But we were having a great time. And then, bam, I was on this side of the fourth wall."

"And you didn't go back because...?"

"Well, I'm not exactly opposed to finding out more about the Lost Cities," Stria pointed out. "I've been going to Foxfire."

"Seriously?"

"Look, I walked over with Katie's mutual circle, does anything surprise you at this point?"

"I think anything short of you going on a date with Keefe," Max said wryly, bringing up her famous hatred. She shouldn't have been surprised.

"Well..."

"You did not."

"It wasn't really a date."

"Stria."

"And he canceled on me this time!"

"Stria."

"Look, he's literally in a hospital right now, so maybe talking about how I'm supposed to hate him isn't the most productive—"

"Remember who you are, Stria!" Max said, shaking her by the shoulders, and wow, yeah, she'd really needed that.

"I think I needed to hear that. It's so refreshing to have another Keefe hater here with me besides Katie's cat," Stria said truthfully, even though it felt alarmingly simplistic to just use the term "Keefe hater" now that she was here and it was real.

But here was her perfect opportunity to get her mind off things. "Want to go get weird gnomish food somewhere?"

—————

I'd actually toyed with the idea of bringing in Max as another Keefe hater to be there with you, and then you brought it up, and I was like, well now I have to do it! Sorry Max. I'm so sorry to involve you in this drama. But I'm also not sorry because it's funny.

I'd love to see your guesses for my identity at this point!!!

Sincerely,

Never Change author

part one, part two, part three for the uninitiated :) i'll stop doing this soon and maybe just start making a masterpost or something. but for now it's not too unmanageable.

"Sophie frowned at Keefe's imparter [ . . . ]" you should know that the second i realized this chapter was in sophie's perspective, i went insane. because like. she's going to hate me :( ugh this is so not worth it. sophie keep your toxic-ass boyfriend it's absolutely not worth it to make sophie dislike me over . . . who was this again???? keefe????

"The thought made another dizzying storm of worry kick up again in her chest, and she glanced over in Keefe's direction, wondering if he'd suddenly wake up to tease her about how concerned she was about him." ooooooh, the plot thickens.

""It's fine," Sophie said curtly. Most people recognized her by her brown eyes. "Not to be blunt, but who are you?"" sophie, who's able to fucking. hex code everyone's eyes. doesn't notice i have brown eyes???? interesting . . . also in my canon the elves have normal eye colors. all of them. including sophie. promptly ignoring this, as i do with shannon, as well :)

"Sophie trusted her boyfriend [ . . . ]" ANON I MAY HAVE TO MURDER YOU. LOOK. I HATE SOKEEFE, OKAY. I REALLY DO. BUT I'D RATHER HAVE SOKEEFE AND SOPHIE SPEAKING TO ME THAN FUCKING. ME AND KEEFE AND SOPHIE NOT TALKING TO ME. BY A LONG SHOT. IF THIS IS A STRIEEFE FIC THAT MEANS THAT THE INEVITABLE SOKEEFE BREAKUP IS GOING TO HAPPEN AT SOME POINT . . . no . . . sophie's going to hate me :(

"Sophie blocked out the part of her mind that was telling her that sounded like a date." if keefe and sophie are still dating in the canon of this fic then why didn't keefe say something like "i have a girlfriend" when i slipped in the second chapter and called it a date (which i would never do by the way)???? like, as much as i despise keefe, he's not a cheater (although shannon did make some weird decisions in the first book by implying he looks up to alvar for being a cheater . . . ).

"[ . . . ] but also the fact that recounting Keefe's absolute stupidity before she'd even had the chance to talk about it with him (or just yell at him, which also might become necessary) felt wrong." yeah, if keefe did this to himself, that checks out. fucking idiot. why is he so fucking stupid. can he stop hijacking plans for even a second . . .

whatever happened to keefe is so fucking interesting though. someone needs to tell me what happened right this second.

"Was he ever going to learn? Or would he keep testing fate until it killed him?" well if shannon messenger has anything to do with it, probably not. but i have more faith in anon.

"Sophie looked like she hadn't slept in days." classic example of keefe ruining sophie's mental health because he's arrogant as shit!!!! i don't care that his arrogance comes from his abusive childhood!!!! he's still not only stupid, but thinks he's smart!!!! ewwwwww.

"Somehow, she could feel Sophie's pain herself, just from the expressions." not at all what i'd be realistically feeling. i'd be more sorry for sophie, and thinking about how she deserves better than this fool. dump him, sophie. come onnnn you know you want better than someone who will do nothing but ruin your mental health and treat you like shit by taking your choices away from you . . . you know you wanna soooooo bad . . .

"She wanted Keefe to live." inaccurate. with the rage i feel at this idiot right now, he could die and i'd say good riddance, nobody to fuck shit up and worry everyone anymore. *sobbing* he's so stupid . . .

"Why should she care?! She did despise him, and there was no reason to feel guilty about it just because he got injured, probably mostly by his own fault!" i would not be feeling guilty, i'd be feeling angry. at keefe. which is something sophie almost never feels at him, which annoys the crap out of me. come on, sophie, stop pitying him, start being angry with him.

"She needed to walk with a really bad coffee drink that tasted bitter in her mouth to give her a reason for feeling so... whatever this was." fun fact: coffees (lattes) are my favorite drink of all time. unfortunately, the elves probably aren't the coffee kind.

"In the window, they were advtertising her favorite flavor." that would be coffee.

"She contemplated telling him that it was a really good drawing of Keefe, just to watch him lose faith in the world for the last time, but decided that was too mean." this about the first person to tell max his keefe art looked like fintan :)

"Stria wanted to say, I depsise Keefe, because she was sure he would get it right away, but the topic was too sensitive right now. "Aldella."" i'm not fully certain max is aware of my aldella obsession. but a nice thought nonetheless.

"Max glanced down at his drawing. "He does have short hair. I confirmed it."" ANON DO YOU REALIZE WHAT YOU'VE DONE. NO. THIS IS WRONG. WRONG AND INCORRECT. no . . . you can't make max more valid than me in my own fic . . .

""He also does follow American politics. And he reads warrior cats. Yes, he is the Fintan tumblr blog."" fintan pyren, the kotlc character, is the same as fin, the tumblr user, in this fic's canon confirmed. although i'm hoping that was a mistake and that fin just lied to max. because it would be funny to have not one, but two people that are clinically insane about fintan stalk him in the lost cities.

""What? No, I met Fintan back on our side of the fourth wall," Max explained, "and then I realized walking through the fourth wall was possible, so I thought, why not go get some solid art reference?"" that's hella goofy. also i feel like max should be having a stronger reaction to realizing he's been mutuals on tumblr dot com with the person he's been obsessed with for years now.

""Wait wait wait. If Fintan is the tumblr blog, and he ships himself with Bronte—"" actually, he ships himself with shakespeare. and king dimitar. he's got quite a bit of explaining to do. so realistically i'd say that and max would faint from having heard an allude to finitar. or something.

""I'm looking into that as well," Max added." in character. also fin shipping himself with bronte? also in character.

""Katie, Isa, Maddie, Lisa, Alayda, and Katie's cat." Max blinked. "What were you even doing with that group of people?! I mean, not to say you can't have whatever friends you want, because obviously you can, but—"" i'm pretty sure max doesn't even know who half these people are. but interesting.

""I was talking to Katie!" Stria sighed. "Well, arguing is a better word. But we were having a great time. And then, bam, I was on this side of the fourth wall."" LMFAO NOT OUR ARGUING RUPTURING THE FOURTH WALL. also why were isa, maddie, lisa, and alayda there? i doubt they were participating. they were playing uno while me and katie argued . . .

""Well, I'm not exactly opposed to finding out more about the Lost Cities," Stria pointed out." yeah i need to know more about the pyrokinesis ban immediately actually. and more about the general public's attitude towards shades.

""I think anything short of you going on a date with Keefe," Max said wryly, bringing up her famous hatred. She shouldn't have been surprised." technically it wasn't a date, because keefe apparently has a girlfriend *side-eyeing him so hard right now*

""Remember who you are, Stria!" Max said, shaking her by the shoulders, and wow, yeah, she'd really needed that." hello never change anon, sorry but this made me cringe out of my soul and i'm certain max would never say that. it's so shannon . . . someone help me . . . ack.

[block limit]

""It's so refreshing to have another Keefe hater here with me besides Katie's cat," Stria said truthfully, even though it felt alarmingly simplistic to just use the term "Keefe hater" now that she was here and it was real." i can continue to be a keefe hater regardless of circumstance, because i have magical powers. hope this helps.

""Want to go get weird gnomish food somewhere?"" ooh, weird gnomish food with max chapter???? i still think fin should be a separate person from fintan, and it turns out he's been tricking max the whole time. then max can write this all down in his little detective notebook. or something.

in conclusion, i think quil should be the next one to walk through the fourth wall. hear me out: quil would support my anti strieefe agenda and also be detached enough because of desperate attempts to find everglen and stalk fitz vacker to the point of collapsing on the floor in a keyboard smash manner once successful. also quil's a neutral party that doesn't particularly like or hate keefe so that would be nice to have. or something. idk i'm not writing this.

currently wondering if you know max, like in an interactive way. evidence points to the contrary, since i can't imagine he hates keefe enough to really care whether or not i'm going on smoothie "dates" with him. and i'm officially out of guesses. i have an anon in my inbox that is very certain you are katie and a liar, but i feel like. that would take the fun out of it? like if mr. forkle did turn out to be sophie's bio dad or something. idk. also this reminded me that i've read a fourth fanfic during my time in this fandom by max, which helps exactly nil. so basically i still have no idea who you are. help me, anons.

tagging everyone mentioned (tell me if you'd prefer not to be): @myfairkatiecat @crescentpaws @fintan-pyren @permanently-stressed @queefsencen @lisalovesapplesauce @alaydabug2

[kalmiaphlox]

If You Give a Vampire a Polymorph Scroll Pt 2

Part 1 / AO3 Link / Masterlist

If you give a vampire a polymorph scroll, he's going to sow a little chaos. When he creates that chaos, he'll probably want someone by his side. When he has that someone, they are going to be very, very naughty.

Alternatively: Astarion turns Kalmia into a little lizard. They commit crimes and have fun because Astarion likes some chaos, and Kalmia will never deny him.

Main Tags: Tiny Dragon, blood drinking, payback, Catstarion, dancing on the beach, idiots in love

Hungry.

Food. 

Must eat. So hungry.

Why is that man talking to Astarion?

EatEatEat

The man approaches her and she pauses in her feeding. “Pretty thing that one is, are you a sorcerer? I've heard they carry dragons around to connect with their heritage, so the-”

Astarion has bristled, he doesn't like sorcerers. She knows that. “ Don't touch her. Now run along now, we aren't interested in company.”

Will Astarion eat him? I eat him . 

Very hungry.

“How much for the lizard? It's clearly defective, I can give you-”

Jumping up to his feet, Astarion grabs the man's collar, pulling them face to face, seething with hatred. “Fuck. Off. Before I gut you like the pig you are.” He flashes his pearly fangs in the moonlight, hand inching towards his dagger.

Why not just kill him? They can eat so good . 

FoodFood

The man stumbles back, slipping in the sand before running off for who knows where. 

She's tired of the mindlessness. 

Breaking the spell, Kalmia returns to herself, if a few pounds heavier. By the Gods, she ate too much.

Astarion startles, “How did you do that? I didn't stop the spell!”

Ugh, her head. It's so nice to think normally again. “ Irthiski , you do know beings that shape change can easily shrug off polymorph? I was being nice by playing along.”

“What?! But your mother-”

“ Mother is an ancient fucking dragon, her magic and whatever cheap scroll you used are very, very different. I'd expect a magistrate to read the fine print.” She brushes sand from her body. Oh, she will ache tomorrow. “Why didn't you kill that man? Are you going soft on me?”

“I don't know. I should- ugh, he tried to buy you. I should have torn his damn throat out.” He seems uncomfortable with the subject, strange when he rarely turns down a meal.

“Want to share or drop it?”

Raking a hand through his flawless curls, Astarion groans in frustration. It's always a sight when he's at a loss for words. “He just- He reminded me of some of my targets, from back then . I had a type you could say… before I moved on to literally anyone that would give me the time because it was quicker - didn't want to leave Cazador waiting.”

She had barely acknowledged that man, her damned brain too consumed with consuming. He hasn't spoken much about his targets in specifics, the only one she knows by name is Sebastian, but that's it. “I understand.” They both are struggling with words to say. It's a fragile subject, she'd hate to get it wrong. 

“I know you do. Why don't we go home? I'm more intere-”

“There's the monster! ” They were too engrossed in their conversation to see a mob coming their way. That man is back, with three other people in tow, ready for a fight. “My lady, get away from him! He's a vampire!”

How fucking dare they! Monster? Monster?!

She glares at the offenders, then looks back to Astarion, who is watching her carefully. “Can I kill them, irthiski ?”

He sighs and waves her off, “Knock them out, I'm hungry.”

“ All of them?”

“Ugh, yes. ”

Good enough. Kalmia strides towards the men, it's not quite “pitchforks and torches”, they're a little more prepared than that with some proper armor, weapons and a magic user.

Not that it means anything to her.

The man from earlier speaks, “My lady, are you unharmed? Come quickly to us, we will-” She sucker punches him, knocking the lad out instantly. The three others gape as she lunges for them, smashing two heads together, and punching the last one in the jaw.

Easy .

“My liege, dinner is served.” She bows dramatically with a wave of her hands.

Astarion inspects the bodies, tilting his head this way and that. “Hmm, you split his lip, and that one's cheek is busted. I'll have to deduct some points for the loss of blood. Otherwise, not too bad.”

“ Wux re vi inloil di tawura .” She says with a sniff. 

Pausing his inspections to translate, he chuckles. “Darling, presentation matters… but, I won't complain. Nothing beats having my meals served fresh .”

“You already did complain, but… whatever.” Stepping away to let him gorge, she stares out across the vast ocean, ships bobbing along with the waves and who knows what sea creatures lie beneath the peaceful view.

It'll be warm enough for those swimming lessons soon. She hopes Astarion will still want to (re)learn when they get the chance.

Shuffling behind her lets her know he's done, and turning around, Kalmia finds that Astarion is already taking care of the bodies. She hadn't expected him to fully drain that man , but, hmm… There's no need to push right now. “Want me to dump those?”

He flaps his hand at her, “I can handle it. Only seems fair that I clean up when you provided .”

Eugh, who is this man and what has he done to Astarion? 

She'll let the imposter stay though, they can still have fun.

When the bodies have been disposed of, Astarion sidles up to her with a soft smile, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. What a cute kitty. He always fills her with butterflies, a feeling she once thought long lost to her. 

Intertwining their fingers, Kalmia pulls him close. “Have you ever danced on the beach?”

“Can't say that I have. Do you want to dance?” He feathers the lightest of kisses along her cheek before nipping at the soft skin there.

“I thought you'd never ask!” She laughs, returning his kisses with a deep one, flicking her tongue across his lips. He's clearly hungry for more but she pulls away, “Dancing first, other fun later.”

He groans in an exaggerated manner, but takes the lead, one hand clasped with hers and the other around her waist, pulling her flush against him as they begin swaying together, just moving across the sand in rhythmic motion.

This is no ballroom waltz, it's just two people very in love slow dancing under the moonlight to the music in their head.

It's perfect.

Astarion closes his eyes, resting his cheek against hers. “I dont think I'll ever get tired of all this.”

“I sure hope not, irthiski .”

With a spin and dip, he supports Kalmia as they kiss once more. She feels very lucky at this moment to have not been born with wild magic capabilities, there would have been explosions from how sweet this scene makes her feel.

“Shall we head home, my love?”

“Yes.”

++++

Astarion is practically buzzing as he draws his stolen fabrics from his bags, inspecting each piece diligently for damage and dirt, before writing notes onto some loose parchment.

Kalmia loves the way his brow furrows in concentration and the twitch of his lips when scrutinizing a thread out of place, pulling at it with a look of utter disgust. He should use one of those magnifying glasses to help him pour over each and every filament in the fibers.

When the cloths meet his standards, he packs them away into the side room, where the door is near permanently closed. Only Astarion may enter now, his projects too precious for others to lay eyes on.

Ah, she loves him so dearly.

And she knows, without a doubt, that he returns all that love. Deeply, needily, happily, harshly. 

But he needs to pay the price of his actions. She allowed his prank to extend on much longer than it should have, and someone in the household had asked for a kitty.

Kalmia can provide.

“Mutatio Forma!” Her voice rings out, enveloping her nasty vampire in a purple mist that once dissipated, leaves a spitting cat with the plushest, whitest fur she has ever laid eyes on. 

His coat is fluffy without being poofy, and the tail is swishing around angrily, as he yowls, “What have you done to me? You vile fiend!” There is rage in those blood red eyes, shining like rubies against that gorgeous white face.

Kalmia squeals in delight. “Oh, look at you!! What a handsome boy!” 

He hisses, sharp teeth at the ready with back arched as she reaches forward to scratch under his chin. Any fight in him is lost, becoming a puddle of fur in her hands as he purrs louder than a certain dragon. 

Cradling her kitty in her arms, she takes him to their room so he can admire himself in the mirror. 

Of course, Astarion is absolutely enamored with himself in any iteration. “Look at that shine! Oh, I really do take care of myself.” Hopping down from the vanity, he winds between her legs, tail curling around her ankle as he does so. “Can't you brush me?” 

She obliges, pulling the comb from the bathroom and waiting for him to settle in her lap once she sits on the bed. He curls up tightly, having accepted his fate, while Kalmia runs through his wispy fur with the brush. The hum of his purr is so powerful it vibrates through her fingertips.

If it weren't for other matters, she would brush him until the sun burns out.  

-wux re vi inloil di tawura = you're a piece of work -Astarion is a Turkish angora here. I almost chose a ragdoll or Persian, but I think he'd be a bit more sleek

[llflorence]

When you are old - human au, professors, quiet, gentle, romantic

6:42AM

That was what his phone read when the text message came through. It vibrated from under his pillow, and he very nearly dismissed it as an alarm he'd forgotten to disable. It was a holiday, after all.

And then, he remembered.

Are you awake, Angel?

Aziraphale fumbled the phone in his haste to respond. He sat up in bed and the stupid thing tumbled over the edge, landing in the crack between him and the wall. He scrambled to free himself from the tangled bed clothes, reaching down to collect it and only just touching with his fingertips.

"Damn!"

He tried again, exhaling in frustration at how his sizable gut got in the way and straining until he captured the escaped device. He typed a hurried 'yws,' and then a 'yrs,' and then, finally, 'yes.'

The phone rang almost immediately.

"'Lo, 'Ziraphale," that dark chocolate voice, thick with morning sludge, even deeper than normal. "Sleep OK?"

Aziraphale had slept like garbage. "Yes, I did. You?"

"Not a drop. Say? Since it's a holiday and all —" Crowley paused, leaving Aziraphale hanging by a thread. "Maybe we shouldn't go out —"

Disappointment sank heavy in his gut. Crowley didn't want to see him after all.

"— Maybe I should bring the party to you? Cook you breakfast?"

The downward swoop of his stomach immediately changed course, shooting skyward. "Oh! Oh! Yes, that would be lovely!"

Crowley's voice morphed into a smile. "Any requests? Or shall I surprise you?"

Aziraphale's heart was trying to kill him. He couldn't catch his breath. "Surprise me, by all means."

Desperate. It sounded desperate.

"By all means," Crowley repeated. "Fantastic. Gimme an hour, hour and a half?"

It was too long, much too long. "Yes. Yes, fine."

"Great! See you soon!"

Aziraphale didn't even hesitate. "Hurry!"

They disconnected and he tried to get control of his breathing. It had to be the lack of exercise lately; he should probably get back into walking through the park. Even if it was close to zero outside.

Then he remembered he'd gotten plenty of exercise the night before. 

Well, then, it was sleep he was lacking. If he didn't put more hours under his belt, his heart was going to give out. Especially if he continued making first moves.

What was wrong with him?

There was a time not long ago when he'd been repulsed by the man. When the Californian's voice grated on frazzled nerves. Where his touch made skin crawl and they'd argued about the Arts and classism. And then there were those infuriating glasses —

Well.

Aziraphale set the phone on the side table and caught sight of his messenger bag, strap mended with the skillful fingers of an artist.

He undressed and made his way to the bathroom.

Under the relentless steaming pressure of his shower, Aziraphale thought about what Anathema had said at Christmas.

"He's in there with the champ of taking it slow."

A week ago, he'd sat in his favorite chair in the library, fantasizing about having Crowley over for dinner. And now?

He wondered when he'd gotten so bold.

Wrapped in a towel, Aziraphale sat on the toilet lid and thought of Crowley's dead mum.

"She'd have liked you."

Aziraphale looked down at the overlapping bulge of his stomach. It hid from his view the disappointment of a penis that had let him down the night prior. Just when he'd gathered enough bravery to kiss the stuffing out of Crowley, the not-so-young piece of equipment inside his trousers had refused to cooperate.

"Traitor," he scolded, smoothing down the wet curls on his chest and trying very hard not to feel sorry for himself. That second kiss had been – well, it had been perfectly exciting, and –

But that wasn't fair. Arousal wasn't stored in the flesh. It was born and raised and set free in the brain. It was Aziraphale who had gotten into his own head and disrupted a process he'd rather enjoyed as a younger man.

(And it wasn't like he had a problem when he was by himself.)

Aziraphale stood in the middle of his bedroom and thought about how Crowley had said he wasn't a morning person. It was 7:05. It cheered him immensely.

He dressed for going out. His usual staying-in attire of threadbare pajama pants that showed his plaid boxers underneath and oversized sleep shirt that similarly showed his nipples was hardly the attire that fit the situation. The goal was to seduce, not to distract.

He made the bed and tidied the bathroom. He descended the stairs and loaded the dishwasher. He began to wipe down the counters and thought about Crowley's blue handkerchief.

"Oh my."

Perhaps Rogering was a possibility.

The doorbell rang at 7:39, and Aziraphale tried to imagine Crowley screaming in ten minutes late for other events. He smiled and opened the door.

It had been less than an hour.

And then, there he was, looking slightly worn out but insanely happy, an overstuffed brown paper bag in each arm. He kicked out of his boots and waited to be asked inside, leaning down to peck the apple of Aziraphale's cheek as he offered to take one of the bags.

"You're sweet," he said, blushing furiously.

"Nah," Crowley argued. He set the second bag on the counter as Aziraphale closed the door. "You've just made me that way."

The man was dressed in what appeared to be gray drawstring joggers with big, fluffy pink socks pulled over the cuffed legs. He wrestled from his overstuffed parka, revealing a black t-shirt with the words Butthole Surfers on the front.

Aziraphale stared open-mouthed, still holding the bag.

"What? They were a crazy band! It was a phase I went through!"

Crowley hefted the bag from him with a wink and set it on the counter to remove the items. Aziraphale watched and felt overdressed.

The man's excitement was off the charts. He bubbled on about how glad he was he'd stopped at the Co-op the day prior and what great selection they had and how he'd purchased a membership and planned to shop there for everything from batteries to bananas to baked beans.

Aziraphale smiled and nodded quietly, watching as the counter filled with a smorgasbord of food items.

"Here," Crowley said, pushing a bottle of champagne into his hand. "Tuck that in the fridge, will you?"

His enthusiasm was contagious.

Aziraphale turned away and thought about returning to his bedroom to change back into his comfies, but Crowley had a surprise for him when he swiveled back.

Long, strong arms slid around his shoulders, pulling him in for the world's most genuine hug. Aziraphale closed his own arms around Crowley's waist, well above that pert, narrow ass, and lifted his chin over the man's shoulder. 

"Hi," he said, inhaling deeply and loving the freshly-showered scent of him.

"Hi, back," Crowley answered and hugged him even more tightly.

Several moments passed as they clung to each other, until Crowley swung him around and crowded him against the sink. Aziraphale gasped, unprepared. He'd at least thought they'd make it through breakfast before –

But Crowley merely continued to hug him with one arm. With the other, he began unloading his purchases. "Don't mind me. Just go about your business and pay me no attention."

Aziraphale laughed and a whole lot of tension escaped. He clasped his hands together behind Crowley and took the man's weight; the countertop pushed uncomfortably into his lower back. He didn't care.

"So. I've got bagels and lox," Crowley named everything as he pushed it around on the counter, "and eggs and spinach and muffins and coffee and orange juice – I thought we could make mimosas – and –"

He went on and on and on, and Aziraphale grew even fonder of him.

Eventually Crowley had to give up his arm to be able to prepare omelets, and Aziraphale moved to find him pans, utensils, and bowls. He bent over to collect the hotpads from inside a bottom drawer and caught Crowley staring straight at his backside, eyebrows stitched together in an unreadable expression.

"Right –" Crowley cleared his throat, and Aziraphale's nervousness disappeared and he felt that much more empowered.

They ate right there, standing at the kitchen table, right off the same plate, Crowley forking morsels directly into Aziraphale's mouth. The room felt comfortably warm, and the conversation was intelligently rich. And if Aziraphale didn't know any better, he'd have thought they'd been like this for months.

Crowley measured out orange juice and bubbly when they'd finished and pulled Aziraphale bodily into the library. He set both flutes on the oversized ottoman and gave Aziraphale a gentle push onto the sofa, then sank heavily at his side, leaning forward to retrieve their drinks.

"Ah, I ate too much," Crowley sighed as he crossed one leg over the other. The pink-stockinged foot rested against Aziraphale's shin, rubbing gently back and forth as he slipped an arm over the back of the couch. Aziraphale eased into him, shoulder fitting nicely inside the man's armpit, the perfect height to nudge up under that bony chin.

"Me too," he agreed. "Although it was extremely delicious."

Crowley tilted his head to be able to look down into Aziraphale's eyes. His amber ones were so very attractive. They may have also been – fond? "Mm? You think so?"

Aziraphale nodded swiftly. Enthralled. "You can cook for me any time you like. Make a list, and I'll stock the kitchen with everything you need."

It was meant to make the man smile, to brush his ego, but it did the opposite instead. Crowley's face fell and his gaze flicked away. He sipped from his glass as he stared at the flames inside the fireplace before them.

"N-not that I'm suggesting we don't go out," Aziraphale backtracked, hoping to save the mood. "But this is nice, too. Don't you think?"

Crowley swirled the contents of his glass before taking another sip, swallowing audibly and smacking his lips. He didn't look down when he answered. "Indeed."

They drank their beverages in silence. Aziraphale refused to move away, and Crowley didn't seem bothered either way. He continued to run his toe up and down Aziraphale's leg, almost absentmindedly. And when he had finished his drink, he leaned forward to deposit the empty on the table.

His arm came off the couch.

“Listen. ‘Ziraphale.”

Aziraphale's palate went bone dry. Drier than the exquisitely expensive champagne on his tongue.

"Yes?" It came out with a squeak. A very unsure squeak.

Crowley's mouth had devolved into a very thin line. He twined his fingers together. "I had a nice time last night."

Aziraphale was so very confused. "So did I?" It came out like a question. Why did it have to come out as a question?

But Crowley didn't seem to notice. He stood and turned, calves bumping into the ottoman as he faced Aziraphale.

A hundred things raced through his mind, all of them bad. Aziraphale watched with heart in his throat as Crowley opened his mouth to say one or possibly more of them.

Aziraphale beat him to it.

"I'm sorry, my dear, for being so forward last night."

Crowley finally looked up. "You wot?"

"I-I shouldn't have assumed your intentions were anything but friendly."

The depth of emotion in Crowley's was unfathomable. It hurt to see it.

"I shouldn't have kissed you like that—"

Crowley's mouth opened and closed. The adorable underbite of his jaw flexed, and he made a sound in his throat.

"Ngk."

And then?

And then he was on the sofa. He was on the sofa with a knee on either side of Aziraphale's, and he had Aziraphale's face between his hands, and the drink was spilled on the floor, and the sofa was sliding backward as he pressed their mouths together, and he was kissing him in a way that was in no way 'friendly.'

"Mm?" Aziraphale tried to say as his lips were crushed and his cheeks, caressed. Crowley's thumbs were gently firm, his chin newly shaved. Aziraphale's mind whirled, his stomach boiled. And he did absolutely nothing to stop his shirt from being lifted over his head.

He helped, actually. Got tangled in those talented hands of Crowley's. Felt the brush of long fingers on the sensitive skin over his ribs, heard the excited rush of the man's exhale as he broke the kiss. He found the smooth skin of Crowley's forearm, gripped it tightly and thought it the most erotic thing ever.

"'Ziraphale," Crowley moaned as the shirt dropped over the back of the couch. He was sitting back, staring quite unabashedly at Aziraphale's broad, hairy chest. Cold and exposed, shy now that it had come down to it, Aziraphale closed his eyes so he didn't have to look at himself.

The slightest of warm touches graced his jaw, running delicately down the stretch of his neck. A pause, then further exploration over the curve of his shoulder.

"Gorgeous," Crowley whispered, rapturous. "You're gorgeous."

Something warm pooled in Aziraphale's gut, spreading upward and flushing his skin hot. He was acutely aware of how close they were, now that he knew what Crowley's hands could do.

"Oh, that's — that's —"

Aziraphale didn't know what it was, Crowley's fingers tracing bicep, circling the elbow and pulling his arm away from his body. He opened his eyes, finding Crowley staring at his fingers, holding his wrist very close to warm lips.

Crowley kissed the back of his hand, then turned it palm up and pressed it to his own smooth cheek. The man closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, held it for a long moment, before blowing out and allowing the hand to fall once more.

Crowley's weight rested on Aziraphale's knees, the heat of his backside a fiery flame. His gaze dragged the width of Aziraphale's chest, adoringly, indulgently. He lifted his hand to stroke the point of the other shoulder, pausing at the bulge of the muscle. He exhaled softly; it trembled.

Aziraphale's skin tingled with gooseflesh under Crowley's focused touch, under the hungry stare that lingered over the spanse of his chest. He was being devoured, worshipped. Time had suddenly stopped and it was just the two of them, on the edge of something beautiful.

He was beautiful.

Crowley shifted, then pushed himself to his feet. He leaned forward, reaching out with a hand to each of Aziraphale's knees. With quickened breath, Aziraphale guessed what was wanted, what was needed. And he put up zero resistance as his thighs were pushed apart.

"Oh."

Crowley knelt between them, easing in so that his firm stomach rested tightly against Aziraphale's crotch. The heated gesture most definitely triggered mutual arousal. He found himself rueing the thick fabric of his everyday trousers, wishing for more skin contact while simultaneously wanting to stay just as they were right then.

Hands took his own, twining their fingers together, squeezing and doing mad promising things to Aziraphale's heart. Crowley ran both hands lovingly along forearms, over elbows, biceps, shoulders. He turned his head from side to side, still watching, still worshipping. He didn't say much out loud, but the care he took spoke volumes.

As Crowley rounded the plump curve of Aziraphale's shoulders, his mouth fell open and his eyelids drooped heavily. As if he were drugged, as if he were affected by a substance so pleasant, he may as well be in heaven. His palms flattened and he crossed over collarbones onto the meat of what Aziraphale woefully accepted as breasts. And when Crowley's thumbnails raked punishingly over both peaked nipples, Aziraphale arched his back and clamped his thighs closed, and cried out in a manner unbefitting any decent gentleman.

"Oh, fuck!"

The electricity surging through Aziraphale's body was intense, yearning building much more quickly now. It appeared to be affecting Crowley similarly; he had begun to knead greedy fingers into the sag of Aziraphale's breasts. And then, he stopped.

A whine ripped from Crowley's throat, and he crumpled back on his heels. He fell back against the ottoman, and he rested his cheek on Aziraphale's knee.

"Angel," he said, hoarse and almost ashamed. "There's something I have to tell you."

It was a confession, on his knees like that. Like he was asking for forgiveness for his sins.

Confusion returned like storm clouds. It was clear something tortured Crowley. Whatever it was, it had to be bad. Something that stopped them from continuing onward, from being together.

Aziraphale summoned bravery and reached up to bury his fingers in Crowley's hair. It was soft and fine, the curls fighting against his combing. He didn't know if he could give this up, now that it was so very close.

"Then tell me," he hoarsed right back.

Crowley turned his face against Aziraphale's leg, rubbed his nose back and forth against his trousers. He sighed heavily, then rested his cheek once more. "I bought your book."

Aziraphale blinked. He did what? "You did what?"

Crowley nodded, embarrassed. "I bought your poetry book. Before I came to live here."

It was a puzzled frown that Aziraphale's face made. He didn't understand. "OK?"

His friend – no, his lover – sniffed. "And –" he paused, sighed again. "And I researched you. Found out where you worked. What you taught. Things you'd done."

Something fizzled in the back of Aziraphale's brain. "You – looked me up?"

Again, Crowley nodded against his thigh. "Proper stalker stuff, you know."

Aziraphale thought back to their beginning interactions. Their first outing for drinks. The subsequent lunches and dinners.

"My friend – Shax, we call her – my friend told me about you," he continued, his breath hot on the inner part of Aziraphale's other leg. "She said – she said you were just my type. So I bought the book, and I creeped on your privacy. And I'll completely understand if you never want to see me again."

A light bulb went on, glaringly bright, sparkling clear. Crowley thought, because his friend had suggested they might get along, that he was doing something untoward by pursuing him. His conscience had gotten to him, and he'd confessed to something he thought Aziraphale would be offended by. And he thought that would be the end of 'them.'

But there was more. Crowley had sacrificed his life in California to move to this town. He'd taken a chance, jumped off the dock without knowing how to swim. He had no idea what waited for him when he arrived. But he'd done it anyway, knowing full well he might fail. Aziraphale's heart did a strange dance in his chest.

Aziraphale dug his fingers deep into Crowley's scalp, tugging with so much fondness that it could hardly be contained. This man – this wonderfully stupid man – had given up everything for the chance he might find a compatible partner. And that right there was simply wonderful.

"Look at me," Aziraphale whispered, slipping his hand to the base of Crowley's neck. 

He did, if cautiously, as if fully expecting rejection. Those striking eyes looked up at him with such hope that it hurt. And who was Aziraphale to grant anything but forgiveness?

Aziraphale smiled as softly as he could muster. He moistened his lips and made a decision. "Your friend was right. It appears I am just your type. Now, how about we abandon the sofa for something a little softer?"

Read on AO3

[thebluemoonjune]

The Sounds Of A Black Dahlia- Chapter 2

Family Affairs

Summary:

Michonne and Shane have a 'heart to heart'. Confessions and truths come out. Secrets everywhere. Things in the family are being set in motion.

The whole building was closed off as the police gathered everyone who wasn’t in the vestibule or main hall to take questions. Anyone who’d been seen slipping out during that time. She had made sure to let them know that he was with her on the second-floor balcony attached to the lounge before they segregated Rick, who’d been Holly’s date. Michonne had heard him whisper, ‘They killed her’ as the corpse rolled out. She was confused. How could he have known she was murdered? What was it that he was hiding? Who did he think was responsible for the young woman’s death? Why would they kill her? The more questions that plagued her, the more suspicious she grew of Rick. The longer she thought about what happened, the harder it became holding onto the fleeting illusion of security. Standing outside the dark 1:00 a.m. sky, the wind brushed against her exposed skin. A faint sound rang out in her clouded mind; each toll of the bell caused her heart to stammer, all while her body remained impossibly, unnaturally, and agonisingly rooted. It was almost as if she'd fallen into a catatonic state. Her silver heels and the hem of her red dress were the only objects in her sight. It was when a warm suit jacket dropped on her chilled, exposed shoulders that she’d freed herself from the cage she called her mind.

“Rick… Are they done?”

“For now, I guess…” Rick placed his hands in his pocket, staring at where Holly fell. “From what I can tell, they don’t got much to go on. This is tryna find a needle in a haystack.”

“You think someone killed her? You said it yourself; I heard you.” Michonne stepped closer, her brown pools stirring.

“I ain’t denying it. I know someone did.” He stepped closer as well, leaving no gap between the two. Unlike her jittery persona, Rick mimicked a predator on the prowl. “Gonna have to go to the station tomorrow. This is probably gonna be ruled a suicide. I’m sure that’d make you happy to know.”

“What do you take me for?”

“A liar for one.”

“You got some nerve! Let me make this absolutely clear—”

“Michonne!”

“Shane…”

“I heard what happened. You okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m not the one who’s dead.” He places his hand on her back. In an attempt to comfort her. “Rick, I’m sorry, man. Would’ve come sooner if they ain’t have us hauled up in there.”

“No worries. I got a long day ahead of us tomorrow. I’ll leave you two to it.” He pranced away, not giving them a heads-up as he waved them bye.

“Just like that?”

“Your brother’s date just died; he has to go to the station in the morning. Don’t be insensitive.”

“I ain’t tryna. He just left in a hurry; ain’t even take his jacket… You wanna talk?”

“Not right now. I’m ready to go.”

Shane got the driver ready whilst she waited. They bid goodnight to her in-laws and left, discreetly, unaccompanied by the media, clamouring for a spectacle on their backs. People rushed past each other on the sidewalks, cars honked and screeched on the streets, and sirens wailed in the distance. 

The car ride was silent for the first half, with the couple’s breath being the one indication of people in the back seat. Shane studied the way Michonne tilted her head towards the window. The lack of sound was overwhelming, so he went against his instinct and asked,

“Chonne, mind telling me what happened? Why you weren’t in the hall?”

The way her eye twitched was enough to tell him to stop pressing for an answer. He was thankful to know she was here, her heart still beating, body bumping with blood. He wouldn’t press on.

“You ain’t gotta answer… It must be hard.” He inched closed and interweaved their fingers.

“I’m sorry. I’m being unfair.”

“Nah. Like you said, I’m being insensitive.” As he diverted his gaze, Michonne spun her body to find a middle ground.

“Shane, I have something to tell you… Your father isn’t giving you control like you thought.”

“What? Where’d you get this from?” His brows progressively lifted in anticipation of clarification.

“I— Shane… I overheard your parents talking about it. Well, fighting if I’m being real here… Eleanor didn’t know; she let him have it in the second-floor lounge. He never intended to give you control, He hasn’t decided on a successor yet… I’m sorry.”

“No, no… No. Nah. You fucking with me? Is this about the same shit earlier?” His eyes squinted at the confused tangle of facts in front of him, irritation and disbelief visible in his expression. He didn't want it to be true. He needed it not to be.

“I am not that petty… It’s true. You can ask Eleanor. She’ll confirm it… I’m sorry.”

Shane sat there, licking his lips uncomfortably, indicating his inability to find the perfect words to communicate his perplexity. Not uttering a single word, the rest of the ride. His face turned blank, a sharp contrast to the resentment that had been present only moments before. After they made their way through the outer security gate, the Guard at the front of their horseshoe driveway ushered them in. Shane didn’t wait for her; hopping out of the car, his footsteps echoed from the granite walkway and steps, making heavy strides to their home. She grabbed her purse in hot pursuit.

“Shane!”

“I need to think!” He unlocked the front door and stormed down the hall to the living room, where he dawdled around, as if he couldn’t remember where he was supposed to go. 

“You still have your 3%.”

“And what the fuck am I gonna do with 3%?”

“You still have a say. You bide time till you’re in a position to fight back. Shane… He wants you to fight back. We’ll talk to K; you do your part. We need Eleanor too; she’s not going to accept this… Shane, do you really want this?”

“What?”

“Briton. You don’t have to…” drawing nearer and cupping his face to continue, “Is it worth it?”

“Yes, it’s worth it. I'm doing this for us, for them! It’s ours!”

“Alright, tomorrow, I’ll go to my mother. You remember my aunt, right?”

“The one married to Sean Monroe?”

“Yeah, I’ll get my mother to help facilitate a meeting. If we can win her, she can help us win over Deanna Monroe.”

“That��s…good.”

“When Morgan Jones comes back from the Bahamas, you’ll have a meeting. He thinks you’re taking over, we need to see if he’ll still take your side.”

“We’ll follow your idea.” His gaze held a warm intensity that whispered of deep affection. With her plan coming together at the last minute, she fell onto the couch with a pleased sigh.

…

Michonne gazed at Andre and Maliyah sleeping soundly in her bed. Sometimes when their dad wasn’t home, or ran late, they would sneak into her bedroom while she was in the shower, only to fall asleep before she had the chance to catch and send them back. If she was being honest, she didn’t mind these little antics at all. She would lengthen her bath sometimes just so they’d fall asleep waiting for her. Maliyah was a messy sleeper, often contorting her double-jointed body all over the place, making it hard to share a bed. Her big toe, currently in her brother’s nose. Michonne crackled to herself, fixing her distorted body. Admiring her three-year-old, her mind unexpectedly ran to Rick’s words on the balcony the night before.

“And what if I said Lori was part of it?”

“So you admit there are other reasons.”

“I admit that you’re gonna be crying soon. John made it so.”

He obviously intends to fuck everything up! How did he know about Lori? Did she say anything? What else does he know?

“I expect a visit from you soon. I’ll text my number.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Shane. Specifically, the children…”

“Is this a threat?”

“No, darling… But you need an offer from me. I don’t wanna be an enemy to you of all people.”

So Michonne… What’s the play… How do you deal with this… What does he even want from me? Fucking bastard!

Michonne ran to her dresser, picking up the rose-coloured diary Lori had entrusted her with. Shane never went through her stuff, except the night he rummaged through the house in a fiery rage four years ago, so he didn’t know about this. If Rick started whispering in her husband’s ear, she’d have to guard against it, for everyone’s sake. It was a can of worms that no one needed. He was already in the running for COO from what she gathered from Shane’s call before he went to the office. 

The kids’ room—that's where I’ll hide it for now.

And so it was. Michonne placed it in the kids’ shared walk-in closet, far from the children's reach. She was the only adult who entered here, not even the housekeeper, Mary, as Michonne preferred to clean the bedrooms herself. Leaving her kids to sleep upstairs for a while, she went downstairs for a glass of wine. She needed it. To her surprise, passing the living room to go to the kitchen and the wine cellar, she met her husband sprawled out on their U-shaped, navy blue corner sofa, tie loose on his neck, suit jacket on the side, brown eyes stuck on her in the dimly lit room. Michonne held her chest in momentary fright.

“I didn’t know you came in.”

“I thought you were sleeping… Ain’t wanna disturb you… The kids?”

“Asleep… In my bed.” Even standing a couple feet away, even in the dim room, she could see the tiredness and frustration in his eyes as they were motionless and far away. Not from her, but outside. Regardless of it, he still snickered at the news.

“Can’t catch a break… Can I get a drink?”

“Why? There is no reason to.”

“Ain’t you heading for a drink yourself?” His lips curled into a tired sneer.

“And what makes you say that?”

“Why else are you headed towards the kitchen? Why not?” Michonne sighed.

“I was but you know why. When you’re stressed, which you obviously are, you tend to not know when to stop.” She folded her arms.

“Just one glass… Just one.” They stared at each other for an entire minute before she gave in.

“All right. Just one then…”

She strolled over to her original destination, grabbed a bottle of Pinot Noir from the cellar,  went to the kitchen to Shane’s rum cabinet and took an almost finished bottle of bourbon. Holding the bottles with one hand, she grabbed a wine and a rum glass with the other before returning to the living room. Shane cast his gaze on his wife’s every move. From her placing the two glasses on the large, rustic, handmade, blackwood coffee table Rick and he had made after their son was born. She sat, opened both bottles, poured each into their respective places, rested them back on the table, and got up, passing through the gold bead curtain, where she began setting ablaze the sandalwood incense on the corner table. Shane looked around the room, from the marble flooring and the family portrait to the abstract black, navy and gold mural, completely covering the wall behind him, that Michonne painted five years prior. They had made this home together for their family. When he spun back around, she was standing four feet away. He took in his wife. He thought her a peculiar person. Always prim and proper, only allowing a flaw within her bedroom. 

“Want me to play something?”

“Nah… come sit.”

“Want to talk about it?”

Shane raised his head gently, trying to calm his eyes. He didn’t kiss her, but instead gripped her chin, forcing her to look back at him. He drew her in closer, taking her on his lap and placing his left hand on her waist, his right hand on her jaw. They remained in that posture for a minute, just breathing each other in. On his breath, she could smell whisky. He hadn't drunk from the glass she poured yet, so it became obvious that he was drinking prior to returning home.

“This is good… It’s good”

“How much alcohol did you have before this?”

“I passed by a club with a few buddies of mine.”

“Why?”

“Destress, have fun... Don’t worry, I ain’t cheated on you. We both done had enough of the behind the back stuff, right?”

“Shane.”

“No need to pretend like it ain’t happened... It’s in the past… We’re grown enough to talk about it. At the time, I wanted to snap that pretty neck of yours, but, in hindsight, that’s quite the lick back. To think you almost had another man's baby.”

“I don’t want to talk about this—”

“I should’ve been at the hospital…” He tugged her back after she tried leaving. “When you got home and I saw her, I knew our little girl was a Walsh, that she had my blood.”

Shane kissed Michonne after she gulped. He didn’t stop, repeatedly capturing her lips so that when she breathed, he was the one she was taking in. She pushed his chest two times to distract herself from the sensations he was instilling in her, and he followed, grabbing her around the waist once more. Michonne put her arms around his neck, and they both felt as if they were about to fall. Michonne grabbed at the back of his shirt, wanting it off, as he raised her body to slide her panties down in a frenzy and she unzipped his pants, pulling out his cock. He was distracted by nibbling her, especially as he kissed down her jaw and began on her neck. 

Sex was a drug for both of them. It was how they solved their problems, regardless of what the problem was. They didn’t waste time with foreplay and she was already wet so she lifted her hips and lowered onto him. He grunted and air caught her throat. He held her tight as he slid his body down and she rested her head on his shoulder as the husband and wife went to work. They pounded till her shrieks entered a crescendo while both their climax drowned them. Shane felt his dick quiver and the warm dripping of his come painting his cock and her insides white. Descending from their highs, they clung to each other for a while, their chests heaving heavily and their noses buried in the creeks of the other’s neck.

“You still on your birth control?”

“Why?”

“Ain’t seen you take it recently.”

“My mind’s been hectic. I’ll take a pill in the morning.”

“Don’t bother. I think it’s time we had another kid… Lia’s three; I’m sure she won’t mind another sibling.”

“Is that something you want?” She lifted her head to see his face while he was still inside her.

“Of course… I’d have a hundred babies with you if possible. I never wanted you on birth control anyways… We weren’t in the best place at the time, so I never said nothing.”

“You make it sound so simple.” She turned away from him.

“Why can’t it be? We’ve hurt each other enough. A baby can mean so much. It can mean we forgave each other.”

“I thought we did.”

“Have we really?” His lips pulled into a half-formed, smile. “Every time we get into a scrabble or fight, you bring up the d-word. I know you don’t mean it; hell, you been saying it since forever, but it ain’t never made it easier; even if I’d never give you a divorce. You, the kids, y’all are the most constant thing that I care about in my life…”

“I’m not going to just up and leave. I promise you that, but what about her?”

“I told you—”

“You told me a lot of things. You told me that it was complicated, that the two of you had kids together, that she was in the picture before me, that it wasn’t her fault... that you loved her.”

“Michonne—”

Michonne carefully lifted herself from her husband, still very tender from their tumble, and rose from the sofa. She put on her panties, turning away from him. Michonne moved to the kitchen, grabbing the empty rum glass without looking back at him. 

A cruel man is what you are.

7 years 7 months prior

Michonne's delight shines through the windows of her eyes more brightly in the dawn.  There is a deeper sweetness in the morning that resonates within and finds a way to express itself. Michonne had that. Her first pregnancy was, on some days, an epic voyage of vomiting and sickness that lasted all day; other days, none at all, not even a smidgeon. She'd gotten up late that day yet miraculously managed to kiss her spouse goodbye, nausea and all. She wrangled her will, snatched a book from her unread collection, and marched downstairs, reluctant to spend the day in bed. Her nutritionist, whom Eleanor had 'given' to the couple after her pregnancy was revealed, prepared her a well-portioned and balanced meal that she could eat and that she much loved. In the group chat, she texted Sasha and Maggie, beckoning them to come visit and keep her company. She was reading 'The Paris Wife' by Paula McLain while waiting for her friends when the house phone rang. Michonne got up, fully expecting it to be her mother-in-law, but was met with the unfamiliar voice of a woman, a young woman.

“Hello. You must be Michonne.” The woman giggled on her end.

“This is her. Who is this? Do I know you?”

“Yes! I know you—very very well, but you don’t know me, not yet at least.” There was a sing-song pitch to her voice.

“Look, I don’t have time for nonsense—”

“I have news about your husband. You’ll want to hear it.”

“Who is this?”

“I’m Jessie. Jessie Anderson… Shane and I have been together for over four years, now.” Michonne held still, attempting to digest what she had just been told. “We have a son together; he’s three. And I’m currently pregnant again—almost seven months. I was wondering if we could meet up. You know… talk?”

“What did you say your name was again?”

“Jessie. Jessie Anderson. I understand it’s a lot to take in but—”

“Jessie, don’t call this house again, or I’ll have you served.” She disconnected the phone and hurled it across the living room with unexpected strength. Her demeanor soon grew misleadingly serene, her astonishment confirmed by a vain popping grip on the living room bookcase next to her.

That woman just wanted to stir up trouble! How dare she say something like that? It’s not true true; I know it’s not…

Present

Shane sprang up, hurriedly adjusting his clothing and striding after her. She had already rinsed the glass. He noticed her standing in the center with a dish towel, but her eyes hadn’t risen from the icy grey tiles. He couldn’t help running his fingers through his black hair with shaking hands. It was unclear how long they remained at a stand-still, but his gaze never left her, not once. He quietly walked over and embraced her from behind, resting his chin atop her head.

“Can you give me some time?”

She heard him. She heard the begging and the worry in his voice, though no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t bring herself to answer his question. His grip tightened.

…

Walking through the stone garden, full of Saucer Magnolia trees, the bustling sound of murmurs greeted the four of them. Sasha agreed to accompany her and the kids back to her maiden home, given Michonne had long ceased to have the mental fortitude to deal with her maiden family, especially that of her mother and older sister. It was understood that there’d be a clash for blowing them off at the party, though she’d hoped they’d let it go given the unfortunate catastrophe that took place, it nevertheless became apparent when her mother didn’t come out to greet her and the butler had been rather ‘formal’ even to her children. Two could play that game. Just because she wanted something didn’t mean she’d become the begging dog; they’d do well to remember they needed something from her too. They sat at one of the woodland stone tables where guests gathered.

“Andre, sweety.”

“Mama?”

“I won’t keep you here to bore you. Go play, but you know the rules.”

“Sweet!” 

He dug deep into his mother’s Birkin bag with level speed in search of his case holding his marbles. The little fox didn’t even wait for any other words from his mother or his aunt Sasha, simply taking off with a wide, mischievous grin on his face.

“That little brat!” Sasha let out all her playful shock, fixing little Lia in her hand. “AJ didn’t even wait! Who in God’s green heaven does that little twerp take after?”

“Well, at least he’s not craving your attention today.”

“Does that mean he’s growing up?” She pouted. “Our baby’s growing up!”

“More like he’s acting his age.” Michonne giggled at her best friend’s overreaction while she reached over to stroke her daughter’s chubby, dimpled cheek.

“Mama? Can I go?”

“Oh, baby girl… No, you can’t.” Michonne wouldn’t let her run freely with all these people present. Maliyah was smart, but small for her age. “Hang out with me and your aunt Sash then later, we’ll get that bike I promised you, I’d even get you a doll. It’s that okay?”

“You prowmise!”

“I promise, baby! I promise.”

“Can we go see Daddy?”

“Uhm, I don’t know, babygirl. Daddy’s really, really busy with work.”

“Oh.”

“How about after we leave, we call your dad and ask? If he’s too busy, let’s go to the playground and have fun.” Sasha kissed her cheek and patted her curly, dark hair, and she in turn smothered her petite face in her aunt’s neck.

The children missed their father. He’d been coming home late for months and with the recent transition of CEO, they barely saw him anymore. Andre, being the ‘big boy’, pretended it didn’t affect him; Lia, on the other hand, being a daddy’s girl, didn’t take it well. Michonne and Sasha stared at each other, not knowing how to respond.

“Michonne! Sasha!”

“Jocelyn! Hey!”

“Jocelyn…” Sasha couldn’t pretend to have Michonne’s enthusiasm for the woman who stood before them nor did she care to.

“I didn’t expect to see you both here, especially you, Michonne, since everything happened to that girl. It must’ve been hard for your family; I mean, it’s not the first time something like that has happened. Bad luck, I guess.” This caught the attention of the nearby women. Sasha rolled her eyes; Michonne, however, graced her with a smile.

“Ah yes, it’s been hard for my family; no one likes to witness death; I’m sure it’s harder on the victim’s family. It would be insensitive and tone-deaf to the ones truly affected by this tragedy. As for my attendance today, I should take the time to visit my maiden home when I have the chance, shouldn’t I?” Michonne sat in anticipation of a response, while Sasha smirked, eyes sharp as a hawk’s.

“Your right. Well, I should leave you to it.” They watched her walk away when Sasha spat out all her disgust.

“That fucking bitch… This is why I hate coming to these dumb things. How you have the patience, I’ll never know.” Maliyah perked up, reminding her aunt of her presence.

“You said naughty words!”

“Those aren’t words for you to repeat. If I catch you saying it, I’ll beat your bum. Don’t say that word; that’s a bad word.”

Michonne was about to add to the discussion when a young man, probably a worker on the estate, whispered a message intended for her ears only. It was from her, a childhood friend who happened to be the daughter of her old nanny, who worked here like her mother did. The more she heard, the more her chilling stare drilled into an unseeable foe, making it difficult for the other ladies to ignore the shift in aura. As she leapt up from her seat, her mouth pinched shut, as if keeping back what she truly was tempted to say, although her tensing jaw, expanding chest, and toned shoulders pushed back made her tiny body appear larger and more formidable, indicating her deep ire.

“Michonne? What is it?” Sasha, knowing her friend, asked in an effort to help.

“You stay with Lia I have a bit of family issues to address. I’ll be back.” And with that, she marched off, not spearing a second thought.

When Michonne arrived, her eyes met with her son’s, who was bleeding from a slash on his face, kneeling on the floor. He was teary as he bit his lip, trying not to cry in front of these irreverent people. Not only did John despise it, but her boy was as proud as she was and would never allow outsiders to see him that way, even though he was just a six-year-old boy. Her blood began to boil but she kept her face and tone neutral and almost lifeless as she addressed the adult, ignoring Macie’s son and the maid who stood with them. Her family was very ‘ traditional ’. Michonne knew they were going to beat him. She cast her head straight ahead at the woman she called mother.

“What is this and why is my son bleeding?” She walked to her child.

“Before you come in guns blazing, Mrs. Pompous, he did it to himself! It’s my Kyle you should be showing concern about! We had to pull that animal off him! On top of that, he broke the jade vase that Mom just won at the auction last week and called my child illegitimate and me a prostitute!”

“I didn’t; they’re lying!”

“Did you?” She made sure to watch his every movement, though she already knew the truth. Just in case.

“I called them names because he hit me first! I didn’t do the other stuff! They’re lying! Mom, I’m telling the truth.” She stroked his curly black hair and pulled him closer.

“I know, baby. I know.” She whispered, giving him comfort that she was on his side.

“Kyle said you did so you did! Plus, the maid saw it.”

“Is that so?”

“Instead of antagonising everyone, you should do your duties as a mother; he should be punished and apologise for his action. He behaves like this because he sees how you act.”

So this is what it’s about...  The party? Trying to embarrass me, trying to punish me by using my child, okay…

Michonne stared coldly at her mother and felt sick to her stomach. Even at her own all-white party, Michelle Marie Hawthorne stood in a dark green knee-length Chanel dress with cream-coloured pearls on her neck and hair in a neat side part bob cut, right hand placed gracefully over her left right above her belly as overseer, all her close friends watching. She wanted her to stoop to her, but she would not, nor would her baby boy.

“Sweetheart, say your piece.” He looked up at her and she nodded in approval.

“We were playing marbles and I won all of ‘em!”

“No, you didn’t! You cheated!” Kyle finally came out from behind his mother, showing his black eye.

“Yes, I did! He didn’t wanna pay up so I took ‘em myself! And then, he hit me and we started fighting, and then the vase broke! When I was on top of him, he cut my face! So I beat him up some more and called him names!”

“He’s a liar! He cut himself!”

“Just because you got caught doesn’t mean you get to blame my son! The maid saw it!”

“And what exactly did your maid see? How did my son cut his face? What’s your name?”

“Vivian…”

“Well, go on, Vivian; let’s hear and don’t stall!”

“You! This is not your place; you don’t get to come to my house and disrespect the individuals here! Including your older sister.”

“I’m just trying to find out what happened, mother. Vivian.”

“Well, uh… He wanted the young master’s marbles and when he wouldn’t give them to him, she started attacking the young master verbally and physically, so much so that I had to pull him off.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. He was acting like an animal.” The young woman took a stance similar to that of the matriarch standing at the front. Macie was going to add but Michelle raised her palm to cease.

“Michonne.”

“Mother.”

“Since the truth is out and there’s a witness, no need for this wild display any longer. And since you cannot discipline him well, I’ll do it as his grandmother. Vivian, get the stick.”

“My son is many things but a liar isn’t one of them. My son never lies. Look at the other one. Have him open his hands.”

“Why are you blaming him?” Her sister snapped in annoyance.

Michonne didn’t even look at her sister and mother. She walked over to her nephew, prying his hands open, revealing a piece of the broken antique jade vase. She took it and tossed it on the floor for the room to see. Strolling back to her son, who gazed at her with soft eyes and a grin, he held her hand and gave a teasing gaze to Kyle. Vivian got quiet as she bowed her head, not daring to add more.

“Malicious woman!”

“I am deeply sorry! I—” She turned to Michelle, then to Macie. Neither gave attention.

“Kyle should not have raised his hand first and Andre should not have called him names or tried to take what wasn’t his; it led to this mess. But still, it was squabbles of children. It was just a vase. No real harm done. Let us leave this here.”

Michonne’s giggle was soft and tinged with fascination at the situation. Crossing her arms over her chest, she tried to take her breath in response to the criticism directed at her kid.

“AJ, baby?”

“Yes, mom?”

“Do you know where you went wrong?”

“Mhmm…” His voice was hushed. “I shouldn’t have called him bad names and fought him—”

“Wrong! I taught you to defend yourself. If someone hits you first, then by all means you have the right to hit them back, but I also thought you should come to me when I’m there.”

“I’m sorry…”

“You shouldn’t have called him names but that’s not your fault; it’s mine.” She said it louder so everyone could hear it. “It’s my fault for speaking such things as the child’s birth around him.”

“You shouldn’t have said it in the first place!”

“Why not?” She covered her son’s ears. “Is it not the truth? Did you not go after your best friend’s married father and destroy a home? Is your child not a product of your behaviour? You go after any wealthy man you can get your hands on, regardless of who they belong to. You’re a high-class prostitute, a courtesan if we’re being classy.” Michonne brushed her locs back nonchalantly.

“How dare you; you bitch?”

“The responsibility of André’s discipline falls to me and his father. Touch my child again and see…”

“You should clear this up, Mother, lest others think my son is going around bullying his cousin because he believes himself better, an opinion you and Macie seem to share.”

“Are you going against me?”

If I don’t put a stop to this today, there is sure to be a next time. I’ve gone through it enough with these people, but it ends today. I won’t put my children through it again, bridges be damned!

“My child was accused of things he didn’t do; an adult lied on his name and you and Macie even intended to beat him without so much of a hesitation! His face was even cut in the process. Do you think what Kyle and the maid did was right? If he’s right, André will have to bear the fallout. Think about it carefully. If they are wrong, then there should be some punishment, like what you wanted to inflict on my son. Tell me.”

“You disrespectful—”

“Would you rather I lie? Would that feed your ego better? Would that make you feel better and finally give my son some justice?”

“How dare you!”

“Mother, you should do the right thing.” Michonne only knew her brother had entered the fray when he stepped next to her, backing her up. “The maid should be fired. As for him, give him the stick.”

“How can you just choose her side? Am I not your sister too? Is he not your nephew too?”

“It’s not about sides! It’s about principles! He actively lied to get someone else in trouble. What kind of vindictive shit is that?”

“Michael, don’t play favourites! They are both your sisters. I decided to let it go so that, as cousins, they should not hold grudges against each other. I will deal with Vivian.”

“You talk to Mike about favouritism? You’ve been playing favourites my whole life.”

“Chonne… Don’t.” She ignored her brother’s plea.

“No. I have never been able to get away with any of the shit that both Mike and Macie have done. Not once! I didn’t understand then, but I’m not a kid anymore. I did everything I was supposed to do. The two friends I have are a result of my knowing my place.”

“Ungrateful! After everything Mom and Dad have done for you, to stand there and make it sound like you’re some victim! But what was I expecting? You’ve always been a pompous, self-absorbed, attention-seeking bitch who always got what she wanted. You had your whole life planned out for you and it still isn’t enough. You fucking bitch.”

“It just irks you that I’m better than you in every single way, doesn’t it? Whether it’s grades, the arts, or just any attention I got from others at all. You are such a jealous—”

“So you admit your father and I treated you fairly.”

“Fairly? There was a point in my life when I wasn’t allowed friends mother, when Mike and Macie were. They were allowed that and going out and make mistakes. Mike could kill someone and he’ll still be your sweet boy. Any affection I got was tangent on my behaviour and how I reflected on our family. Macie is so jealous of my marriage that she should’ve had. And we all know even your friends watching us know why.”

“What are you talking about, bitch?”

“Shhh, Mace, I’m getting to that. I wasn’t supposed to marry Shane… You were. But because of your love for married men, you got knocked up and Mom and Dad couldn’t give you the life you wanted because of your actions. In our oh-so-traditional family, you got knocked up and nothing from them! Nope, nothing! They just quietly moved on to me. So you see, dear sister, I’m not the one they planned for.”

“The life that you have now is because your father and I gave it to you.”

“Yes, I can’t dispute that… However, I remember Dad’s words, I’m a Walsh; my responsibility is to my current family, so my children have nothing to do with you nor do I. This is the last time I’ll come here.”

“Disrespectful child!”

Michonne gripped her son tight and bypassed every single person, not spearing a glance. She was dead serious. Both she and Sasha decided to make good on their commitment. When they arrived, Sasha took the kids inside so Michonne made a call. No one would hurt or use her children and she’d never let this incident go, waiting for the right time for a home run. The first step in this was to let her spouse know. Shane, however, was currently on the necks of his board of directors.

“What are we? Answer. That’s a real question.”

“Our business model is scalable: Our brand fuels many value propositions and generates diverse revenue streams. Briton's business isn’t just about making movies and selling news; it’s also about creating and sustaining brands.” The short, curly-haired man named Aaron stated it matter-of-factly.

“Exactly!”

“That being said, we are an all-American multinational mass media and entertainment conglomerate that people want to see fail... Becoming a monopoly is not the best move.” Aaron surmised, knowing it was not what Shane wanted to hear. Soon after, an Asian woman chimed in.

“He right. Maybe we should slow down and focus on our current situation. Stabilising is the most important thing. Let me say, may that girl rest in peace, but the bad press is hurting us and we have the issue with the bank.”

“We’re already a fucking monopoly. Bad press; what a fucking joke. We’re a fucking multi-media company. Who’s fucking us, huh? Who, just who’s gonna tell my old man no? Yumiko, I get it… I do.” Her shrewd decisions were why the company survived the last depression without any major damage, he’d still fight. “It still don’t mean shit. If we privatise, it helps?”

“Well, yes but that is not—” A phone rang.

“Hold on…” Shane hurried out, putting his phone in his ear.

“Babe. What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“You can’t rely on my family... I kind of disowned them... about fifteen minutes ago.”

“What happened? The phone went quiet. “Chonne, talk to me.”

“They slashed your son’s face.”

“You serious? You being real right now?

“Yeah, I’m being dead serious!”

“You did the right thing. I deal with this when I get home. Where are you now?”

“With Sash, at a fun house, trying to lift the kids’ spirit…”

“That’s good. They need it… Babe, I gotta go—”

“Shane, wait!” She sucked in heavily. “Can we come by… Babe, the kids miss you.”

“I’m sorry, you can’t. I’m swamped. I gotta important meeting. I only took a break to take this call.”

“I get it; I do. Can you at least come home early?”

“I don't—I don’t know, but I’ll try.”

“You have to go to Ronan today. You can’t miss it.”

“Ah shit. I forgot… I’ll be there, but I gotta go. I’ll see you later. Love you.”

…

The lush emerald leaves fluttered in the air, their faces gleaming in the sun. The falling leaves seemed to be having a constant, quiet conversation, their murmurs and whispers filling the air and rustling as the wind blew across them. With the garden in full bloom, the air was filled with the scent of early May. Michonne didn’t care for the mansion, but for the large, peaceful gardens she stood in and for the azure blue sea that sprawled far and wide and blended with the sky on the distant horizon concealed behind the frigid white mansion's walls. Her eyes were unfaltering yet soft while she focused on the sounds. At times, raging waves slammed against the cliffs, and the ocean’s voice turned into a chorus of screaming giants. At times, the ocean’s rhythm was like a soothing pulse, a continual reminder of nature's presence, as it is now. She closed her huge brown eyes, absorbing everything, until the sound of a heavy, uneasy footstep jolted her out of her reverie. Magna stared at Michonne as though she were studying a paper. From her grey, satin, dolman-sleeve knee-length dress to her black T-strap heels. Michonne stared back at her, calm and composed. Not a ripple in sight.

“May I help you?”

“Oh, no. Mind any company?”

“Make yourself at home. Any guest of ‘my good brother’ is a guest of me.”

“Thank you.” Magna took a deep breath and rubbed her chest.

“Your first pregnancy?”

“How—”

“Try ginger. It’s old-fashioned, but it works. Until then, have a mint; it’ll help.”

“Thank you…” She stared cautiously at the mint as Michonne smiled with a stretched hand.

“You are very welcome. Walk with me?”

“Oh, alright.” Michonne hooked their arms together at Magna’s confirmation, strolling through the garden.

“So how did you meet, Monty?”

“A mutual friend introduced us.”

“And did this mutual friend happen to introduce you at one of his ‘special’ parties?” A momentary look of discomfort crossed Magna’s pretty face. “I’m not judging you, but a word from the wise, don’t let anyone know. Even if Kendall is friendly, don’t trust her. What’s your sexuality?”

“I’m bi… Monty already told me about his grandfather; he’s—”

“Traditional… He doesn’t care who you fuck; certain family ‘associates’ might... Don’t bring up politics; speak less, listen more. You need to change how you dress; you’re trying too hard.” Michonne stared her up and down. Processing the white and pink, long-sleeved floral dress, yellow straw sun hat, and pink pumps.

“What makes you say that?” Her lips grew thin and firm, breaking from Michonne, like she’d touched something hot.

“The men might not notice but the women definitely will. Let me take a guess about you… An aspiring actress or model. You were raised poor. You’re the oldest of three, maybe four, girls. Your mother wasn’t in the picture, that’s for sure. Probably dead… No, probably left when you were young, leaving your dad to raise you. Anger issues and Juvie?” Michonne saw her muscles stiffen. “Should I go on?” Spasms of irritation ran laps across her face. Just as she was ready to lash out, Michonne switched gears. “Do you like flowers?”

“What? Uh, I guess?”

“I love flowers... I love their beauty, I love watching them grow and I love the different meanings they hold… Do you know this one?” Michonne reached out to touch one of the deep, dark crimson flowers in front of them.

“No, they’re pretty.”

“Hmm, these are called black dahlias. They represent death, betrayal and anguish and should not be given carelessly.”

“Why the hell would they grow them here?” Michonne tilted her head to the side inquisitively at her question and chuckled.

“Ronan’s third wife gifted him this flower the day before she was murdered, so he plants them.”

“Wow…”

“Yes, and yet I can’t think of a place more fitting for it. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Michonne’s face never once fluctuated throughout this entire conversation. Magna took a clear look at her and came to the realisation that, though she still had that polite smile on her face, her eyes gave away nothing; they were empty. Those brown pools of hers read her like a book yet revealed nothing unless it willed it. Monty had made it clear that she should get closer to her. But she didn’t understand why. The woman next to her was dangerous. 

This is a bad idea, Monty! I don’t think—

“Monty sent you to me, didn’t he?”

“How—” Michonne began to circle her like she was a cornered rabbit.

“You know the difference between Monty and a condom? Condoms have evolved; they’re not so thick and insensitive anymore…I may not like him, but I admit he’s insensitive and ignorant, not stupid. He understands there are certain things he won’t be adept at dealing with. We women fight differently; we’re more calculated, and quiet. Even so, just as ruthless and important. Women underestimate the power they hold…”

“Can I trust you?” Magna decided it best to just come straight out and ask. “Can I?” Michonne stopped moving and bore deep into her before letting out a booming laugh at her silly question.

“No! You can’t… Monty miscalculated… Now that you shared this thought, I hope it made room for something smart?”

“Excuse me?”

“A piece of advice... I would hide my pregnancy for as long as possible and after that, watch what I ate and drank and my back. If I could figure it out, so could Eleanor, Andrea, and others... I’ll leave you to it then.”

Walking back to the mansion, Michonne could sense someone’s attention on her. Certain it wasn’t Magna, she came to an absolute standstill. Her lips opened, but she uttered nothing. She immediately clenched her jaw, gnawing on her bottom lip as an innate response to the jumbled mix of ideas in her head, and turned to confront his commanding gaze. They stood there in their silent battle until Michonne broke eye contact and went on her way. Entering the gathering room on the ground floor, she joined her mother-in-law on the white, vintage velvet settee, where she was having a glass of red wine. Her legs lapped as she watched Andre and Maliyah torment each other. Eleanor wore a white lantern-sleeve, button-up silk shirt with red, high-waisted trousers and a lip to match. Her jet-black hair wasn’t slick back today; she wore it in a wavy retro bob and white Mary Jane platform pumps on her feet. It didn’t matter where she was or who she was with; Eleanor had to look good. Michonne couldn’t help but sigh.

“You look lovely.”

“Naturally.”

“Did those two knuckleheads give any trouble while I was out?”

“Other than harass each other? Nah… What happened to his face?”

“My nephew… It’s a clean cut. It won’t scar. It won’t happen again.”

“Say away from those people… That thing with John, I’ll talk to Ronan about it later.” Michonne nodded in acceptance, at the same time she saw Magna enter with Monty, gaining Eleanor’s attention. “What’s that boy thinking?”

“He brought her... He’s definitely serious…”

“Is she pregnant? Is that why he’s doing it?”

“I don’t… think so... I spoke to her in the gardens earlier; she even asked for a cigarette before I told her I don’t smoke… You dislike her?”

“Well, look at her. She dresses like she’s playing doll house and she’s the fucking doll. She’s so fucking easy to read; her intentions here aren’t pure… at all.”

“Are anyone’s intentions pure?”

“No, but she’s too obvious, and not in an endearing way. Sometimes I wonder if Monty is right in the fucking head. She can’t help him; she’s not like you, me, or even the blonde hussy in the other room; she has nothing to offer, and she doesn’t know our ways. She’s green. Far too green.” Michonne leaned in a hushed voice to retort,

“I didn’t know anything either and look, I made it. I think she has something there. Look at you. You came from nothing and did well for yourself. I don’t think you should write her off just yet. Monty seems to actually love her.”

“It’s not the same thing. You may’ve been sheltered but learned quickly, you were a part of this life. And I… I did whatever necessary. Not judging her because she’s poor… She just doesn’t have it… She relying on Monty, is the dumbest fucking shit I have ever bore witness to. Relying on a man? I’ll trust a thief with my money before I do that! I learned long before I got married that John wasn’t shit.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know it; you’ve seen it... Two months before I married, a woman contacted me. Jacqui, that was her name… Told me she was pregnant and John was the father. Part didn’t want to accept it. Believe it or not, there was a time when I’d been in love—with him. I made it clear to her not to contact me again—I ignored it for a whole month! That was until I saw ‘em—saw how he looked at her. He’d never looked at me that way and I had to know why. So, I found out where she worked and showed up at her job… I understood exactly why. She had it—that thing that men loved. Do you know what I’m talking about?” Eleanor replenished her wine glass.

“No.” Michonne swallowed the saliva stuck in her throat. Her entire body felt cold, though there was no draft. Eleanor’s eyes made the hair on her body perk up. Her mother-in-law downed her glass, refilling it.

“Yes, yes you do... She was pretty, but she had nothing on me. However, she had it. All the things that aroused feelings of love and affection in men. She even had this air of innocence that could trick you… There, I stood in front of a woman my fiancé was in love with, who was also carrying his baby… I told her to get rid of it, but she wouldn’t so I warned her and left... I wonder how it felt for him not being able to marry her… Jacqui was black, you see… I may’ve been poor, but to those he was doing business with at the time—those he aligned himself with when he was digging his way to power—she held no benefit. You know those ‘ conservatives ’. Different time, I guess... “

“And you? What happened after?”

“I remember the face he had when she lost that baby. Remember well. He still married me though, because he knew right then what he needed by his side. I would never get his love, and I lost whatever affection he had for me as time went on. It didn’t matter to me. That man is so much worse than I’d ever be. The things he could think of, my mind could never conceive... I might be going to hell, but John sure is coming with me. Shane and Monty—they’re too much like their father to have just anyone by their side. The girl’s too green. Her eyes are bigger than her stomach. She’s going to cause problems sooner or later.” Michonne didn’t know how to respond and her chest felt heavy. Luckily, Maliyah came running in her lap, mouth pouting far, while her blue pools filled with tears as if the world had wronged her.

“Mama!”

“Baby? What’s wrong?”

“AJ pulled my hair!” Michonne grabbed her closer and began to soothe her brown, shaggy curls, kissing her dimpled cheeks.

“Andre,” Michonne called with a critical squint.

“Nuh-uh! No, it’s her fault! She wanted my iPad and got her hair tangled in my chain. That’s not my fault! I never told her to fight me.”

“My… Why are you fighting your sister?”

“I wasn’t fighting! I just don’t wanna give her my iPad. It’s mine!”

“Can’t you two share?”

“Why? it’s mine… I don’t touch her dolls…” He turned his face away, scrunching his nose to high heaven with a pointed chin. Eleanor, watching this, grinned, completely letting it envelop her face. She rubbed freshly trimmed curly black hair.

“He’s right. What his, is his. I get it, but you and Shane spoil her too much. She can’t have everything.” Hearing her grandmother’s words, Lia buried her face in her mother’s bosom. Andre calmed and settled between Eleanor and his mother.

“I know… I’m trying; I am... Shane doesn’t help. He makes it hard being the stern parent when he lets her get away with murder.”

“Of course it’s him.” She sighed. 

“Lia?”

“Mama?”

“You do know I have to comb your hair in time for dinner now, right?”

“No…” Her bottom lip protruded.

“Yes…”

“Eleanor?”

“Mmm?”

“I’m taking Lia up stairs.”

“Go. I’ll watch Mr. Man here.”

…

Michonne quickened her pace to try catching up to her energetic daughter when she saw a familiar but unwelcome person holding her. His gaze was gentle, complimented by a comely smile—a smile she was once fond of. She saw Maliyah tug on his beard and a strong, joyful laugh fell from his mouth. Michonne paused her steps at the sight that befell her and her chest tightened and her entire body became impossibly still. Nausea swept over her in a wave. The sound of her heartbeat was overwhelming in the silence as she gathered the mental fortitude to confront him. She stood firm, ready to take back her child, but he made no sudden movements, simply kissing Lia on her temple. After what felt like forever, his piercing blue eyes glanced up at her, beating a rush of excitement in her chest, only to bring his gaze back to her child.

“She’s just perfect, ain’t she?”

“She is; I think I’ll keep her.” Michonne stretched her hands to take her; however, Rick pulled back.

“Hey, Mal… You don’t mind getting to know me a bit, right? I’m sure if you say yes, your mama will agree.”

“Mama? Can I play with Uncle Rick? Pwease?” She knew her child better than herself. The little brat didn’t want to comb her hair. She knew when to be cute to get her way—when to get her needed attention.

“Lia, please, let’s not—” She knew it was pointless, so she simply asked, “Where’s Carl?”

“Keeping the old man company. Where’s your husband? With the mistress?”

“You are not doing this with my daughter here. Give her to me.” Rick looked back and forth between the two.

“You’re right. She didn’t need to hear this, but we ain’t done talking.” He kisses Lia once on her crown as he sees a maid leave Ronan’s bedroom and flag her over. “Sweetpea, I need to say a few things to your mama for a bit. Can you go with Miss Carla so she can take you to Grandma? Just for a little while.”

“Okay…”

“Good girl.” He handed her over. His eyes were still and he never left her until she was out of sight. That’s when he decided to grace her with his gaze again. “Look at her... Perfect.” He opened the door to Ronan’s study so they could talk without prying eyes.

“What is it? What do you want from me?”

“I told you to expect a call from me.”

“I got no such call.”

“I never said you did. I had to settle Carl first… I talked to Shane; he helped me get Carl into the same school as your boy.”

“What are you doing here, Rick?”

“I’m back with my family... Am I not allowed?”

“Cut the bullshit! We both know damn well that you’re not here for them. And what’s this about you being COO? How did you even push Cophe out when John was set on him? Your brother loves you, so whatever you’re planning, leave him out of it. I don’t know what you think happened to Lori but it was suicide.”

“You and Lori were close leading up to her death; don’t try bullshitting me, she told me herself… I’m gonna ask you some questions and you will answer me.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Oh, you better. A lot is dependent on how you behave, darling.”

“Rick.”

“Was Lori pregnant when she passed?”

“Ye—Yes.”

“Who was the father?”

“I think I—I don’t know—”

“Who do you think? Be honest.”

“John… I saw them once, just once…”

“You saw ‘em… Who else? Did she mention anything suspicious? Like name or—”

“Rick. I can’t; I made a promise. Please.” A momentary look of discomfort crossed her face as she glanced around, not focusing on anything; she didn’t meet his eyes. Rick took her arm.

“Think about Carl.”

“I am thinking about him. It’s why I can’t say anything. If you care about your son, don’t. Just don’t. You are not the one that matters here.” He released her but kept the gap closed and bent his face to her ear.

“And your family ain’t got nothing to do with this? You’re still so selfish, even after all this time… Let me ask you this. Who is Maliyah’s real father?” Her eyes flicked for a millisecond; however, she managed to rope it back in and kept her tone deceptive even as she gave a mocking crackle.

“What the hell are you on about? I’m not doing this; you’re crazy!” As she walked away, he pulled her back.

“I told you Lori was one of the reasons I came back. I’m giving you another one… You let another man raise my child all this time… Fucking me over once ain’t enough?”

“You’re insane!”

“You’re a fucking liar!” He grabbed her face. “All you do is lie! Can you tell the truth for a goddamn change? Or is that beyond you? You’re such a piece of fucking work. God, you drive me crazy! You take me for a fool; you always have... Tell me the truth.” Michonne’s lips were wide, hanging loosely in a forlorn mental state.

“I had my reasons. You know I did…” Her eyes were scarcely open, yet he noted how they glistened with unshed tears. They fell when she whispered, “I’m sorry…” He nodded in rapid motion in acceptance. His slight smile gave way that he was trying to overcome. “I’m sorry…”

“How long… how long did you know? Was it before I left or—”

“Rick…”

“Just tell me.”

“Before… Rick. I had my reasons.”

“Why? After a whole other woman, two miscarriages, two outside children, the drugs… Do you love him that much?”

“It’s not that simple... I do love my husband… He and I have hurt each other so much so, I’ve lost count. It’s unfair for me to expect more from him when he’s just not built to be a good person. He’s not like you, and he never will be. I didn’t stay with him because I loved him. That may sound like a contradiction to you, but it’s the truth.”

“So why? Are you in love with him?”

“I—I honestly couldn’t say... I don’t know... As for why, there are many reasons.”

“Like what? You gonna stand here and tell me you destroyed everything that I worked for—that we did, you gave a man my child and you ain’t even sure of your goddamn feelings for him. Nah, you better start talking.”

“It’s so easy for you. You can call me selfish, but you’re the most selfish person I know! You want to know... Well, for one, I had my son to think about!” She yelled, banging her chest, locking in a heated glare with her former lover. “I’m a piece of work? Well, you make me sick!”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Yeah?”

Rick snatched her by the waist and they stared as though hypnotised. His eyes conveyed vulnerability that she saw only when he was with her all that time ago, and before she could say a thing, he had covered her full lips with his own. As the kiss deepened, his right hand was caressing her all over, soon finding its way under her dress. She was like the opposite of Shame plant, wrapping his arms around his neck unconsciously. When his finger made way to enter her, Michonne ceased his hand, snapping away from his lips, thwarting any movement from either of them till her hands jerked back like she’d touched fire. She covered her mouth and adrenaline jolted through her veins, signaling her to leave.

“So much for making you sick.”

Anger rushed in the moment the shock faded at his arrogance, and she pushed past him, not willing to face her partner in crime and bolted down the staircase. Magna watched Michonne from across the room. She seemed different from their encounter. Frazzled, on edge. Her arms were wrapped around herself while she tiptoed over to her kids.

What’s her deal? Where did she come from?

“I don’t like her.”

“Come on, Magna.”

“I thought you said she’d help?”

“I told you to try and get her on your side. You didn't; that’s on you.”

“Screw you.”

“You’re already doing that, Blondie.” Monty sipped on his glass of gin and cast a gaze on his sister-in-law. “You may not like what she said, and you sure ain’t gotta; however, she’s danced this song longer than you can dream. If she says your fucking trash, that’s what the hell you are.”

“Wow, what good moral support.”

“I ain’t here to hold your hand; it’d do you more harm than good if I did hold your hand.”

“She told me to hide my pregnancy for as long as possible.”

“She did? She knows?” Monty’s hand was only a few inches away from the glass’s stem when his eyes dilated, his usual conciseness replaced with foggy scepticism.

“She said that if she could tell, so would others, like your mom could find out as well, and that when it does finally come out, to be careful.”

“I see. I don’t think she’s told Mom anything yet. You should’ve told me this first… She says she won’t help but she kept it, huh?” His face brightens like a glowing sign, and he forfeits his body to the revelry, tracking Michonne’s every move. “She ain’t change a bit; still so soft.”

“But she said she won’t help.”

“She won’t go out of her way, but unlike the others, she won’t actively hurt you. She’s just washing her hands of what happens in the future.”

“So, what do I do?”

“Stick to her. Beat her down. I’d tell you to seduce her, but I don’t think she’s into that.”

“So cheating is not the problem? But the fact that she doesn’t swing my way.” Her brow rose with his smile.

“No, that too, though unlike you, she’s actually wife material. Nothing like the both of us, baby.”

“Oh, kiss my ass.”

…

Joseph Walsh, his heavily pregnant common-law wife Mortica Pines, his three children, Ethan and his wife Reya, Emmanuella and Evan, and his three grandchildren, Rachel, Lena, and Luke, had just arrived in time to kick off the dinner leading into the family weekend. Shane and Kendall weren’t here, much to Eleanor’s disgust. Michonne made her way to Ronan’s bedroom at her mother-in-law’s behest to let it be known that dinner was ready and everyone else present was gathered in the dining room. She reached to turn the knob and paused when the whispering Ronan and Rick enticed her ears to eavesdrop. Not much was learned considering only bits and pieces survived the muffled travel. Words like ‘Company’, ‘Dept’, ‘Shares’ and ‘Son’ induced small hair to rise on her body. Her cheeks blew out with a heavy breath meant to steady her and a smile was forced in an effort to conceal her worry and doubt, a skill she fostered for years. The bells were ringing once more, and she didn’t know why. She was frozen until the voice of a young child shook her sane, causing her to finally open the door and greet them.

“Ah, I forgot to knock. Sorry, hope I’m not disturbing.”

“No, no, my dear! Come, let me see you!” Michonne sprints and kneels next to Ronan’s wheelchair, taking his hardened palm. Coldness from his six mammoth sized rings invading her. 

“Aunt Michonne!” He dashed, hugging her.

“You remember me? You were so young when you left!”

“Of course I do! I still got a picture of you and Dad!”

“A picture…Oh.” She immediately fixed her faltering smile. “Dad’s had you lock up all day with great gramps?”

“Yeah, Dad’s been busy, but grandpa fun!”

“Yes, he is, but I sure it wouldn’t have hurt to have someone around your age to play with.”

“There’s nobody like that here.”

“Not true! There’s my son Andre, and uncle Joseph just got here with his family. He’s got grandchildren around your age.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! Tomorrow, I expect to see you out and about!”

“Joe's here…” Ronan mumbled to himself.

“That’s part of the reason I came up. Dinner is ready. Shall we go?”

…

Rick kept his gaze fixed on Michonne as she strode across the room. Michonne had been a slender woman with unexpectedly generous curves for as long as Rick had known her. She created an outstanding figure with her full lips, breasts, and round hips. Michonne's most attractive features were her rich chocolate-brown complexion, big brown eyes to match and the long black butterfly locs that she seldom allowed falling below her waist when she wasn't wearing them in a tidy styled bun. A prideful woman, never a hair or speck out of place. She made sure Andre was properly seated and went on her own, placing Maliyah on her lap. Lia sneakily reached out to the table to steal a piece of meat. Unbeknownst to her, Rick was surveilling her every movement. Rick tried to suppress his chuckling but delved into low laughter at her little antics. This earned the attention of the family, who spun in their chairs to see the commotion. Michonne had sensed his gaze on her and Lia the entire time. She delivered a warning glare, cautioning him about his shameless behaviour.

I shouldn’t’ve admitted shit! Can’t he have some decorum?

Not catching a reason for his outburst, everyone went back to eating. Michonne adjusted Lia and decided not to pay any more attention to the immoral clown on her left.

“So, Carl, are you liking being back home in America?”

“Michonne, you should have gotten a high chair for her.” Reya implored.

“This one is a picky eater; she makes a mess everywhere; better not.” She implored.

“Oh, nonsense! She three! It’s her job to be those things. Besides, what are the servants here for?”

“Why the hell are you telling her what to do with her child? Don’t you got your own demons to micro-manage. Look at that jackass at the end with the damn lamb sauce.” Rick chin point towards Luke.

“I’m sorry. Who are you?” Ethan and Rick became locked in an intense staredown.

“What was that, you stupid cunt?” Eleanor turned, blue eyes cold and proud, same as Rick’s.

The whole table grew stagnant, and gazes bounced out off each other. Even Andrea had nothing to add. Ronan placed his utensils down on the table, picked up a serviette and wiped his mouth. Making all cease movement. The tensing of his jaw informed the room that it would end now. Logan partially raised Rick. He gave him all the fine things in life and never let him perceive himself as less, as much as possible, among his remaining grandchildren. When Rick made the choice to leave, Ronan used all tactics in his book to keep him from going. Rick wasn’t a Walsh, but it didn’t matter. Many saw him as an outsider and a bastard, but none vocalised it. For Ethan to utter such a foolhardy question, one wondered if he was indeed a cunt.

“I hear the media’s on your asses… That girl?” Everyone’s face went slack at the twist. “What is this?”

“It’s still being investigated; no harm done. I’ll be over soon enough." John said. "Don’t worry about the media. We are the media. Don’t think too hard, Dad. Shane will deal with it; he’s dealing with it now.”

“All this mess; I’m getting too old to make the big decisions.”

“Your still young, Rone! Don’t sell yourself short.” Eleanor smiles, softening him up a bit.

“Always the silver tongue with you... Still, I think it’s time.”

“Time for what, Rone?”

“I’m giving Richard my stocks in the company!”

If a person's goal was to create World War III, Ronan’s words were the perfect catalyst. Michonne lifted her head, fiddled with her daughter’s hand, and surveyed the members of her esteemed ‘Royal’ family. For the first time this evening, Monty looked rattled. Ethan, Emmanuella and Evan sat unblinking, processing the new devastating blow. Reya kept looking back and forth at Ronan and Ethan’s faces, hazy with uncertainty. Eleanor’s brow slid up, though she hid a slight smirk on her pretty, red lips with her wine class. Joseph clearly wanted to add something but held his tongue, seeing John not say a word. Out of everyone here, John was the most contradictory in terms of reactions. He did not move a muscle, didn’t even seek out his father, and continued eating.

Would he really allow another man’s child to hold so much power in his company? Did he love Rick that much? A man like him?

Given Rick was now the second most influential person to the company, with the second most stakes only behind John and to be the knew COO, She could understand ‘The Plight Of Man’ she bore witness to. A pity that Kendall and her husband weren’t present to receive this gift. She couldn’t help but ponder whether her husband would still trust his most beloved brother. She knew the man causing all this smoke was waiting for her attention, nonetheless Michonne didn’t meet his gaze and bluntly declared,

“Congratulations.”

“Grandfather, you're not serious, are you?” Emmanuella didn’t care, this was ridiculous to her.

“And why wouldn’t I be serious?”

“What’s she tryna say is, this is a family business, and though Rick is family, I’m sure everyone agrees with that.” He spun he neck everywhere as if trying to get others to join in his ‘sacrifice’. “It’s not really the same as actual blood.”

“What you name again boy?” Ronan stroked his chin.

“Uhh, Granddad… it’s Ethan...”

“Listen here, Ethan… It’s mine… and I get to decide what the fuck I do with ‘em. Fuck off… I tired… Help me Richard.”

“Sure, old man.”

And that is how dinner concluded.

…

Shane gazed out the window, momentarily confused as to why it was so dark. His wonder ended when a lithe voice bombarded him. A voice he was familiar with all his life.

“I heard Dad’s fucking you.”

“Yeah, well…”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“You of all people? You gonna sit here and play Kumbayah with little ol me?”

“Oh, cut that shit out... I shouldn’t’ve asked. Ugh!”

“Come on, K.” He grabbed her hand before she stomped away in annoyance.

“Don’t fuck with me.”

“Let's talk.”

“About?”

“I don’t know... life? Dad? Why we’re both late?

“I’m… I’m thinking about selling... We’re at risk of getting eaten anyways.”

“K… you serious? If you need help, just ask.”

“I’m not giving Dad any leverage... If I ask, it means I failed.”

“You and your ego; it’s fucking horseshit. You gonna throw away everything you worked for for pride?”

“Yeah… If I sell, I’ll make the decision. I’d ended it on my terms. So yeah.”

“Alright, sell… Come work for me. No, work with me.”

“Shane…”

“I know you said you ain’t wanted nothing to do with Briton, but we both know that’s bullshit. Dad ain’t never wanted you to get involved and—”

“He’s a parochial cunt!” She snapped, “And still don’t trust that I can do this.”

"K..."

“Why me? Why not Monty? He could be a better help.”

“I don’t trust Monty. I trust you and I trust Rick… What do you say?” He put out his right hand, waiting for her to accept. Kendall stared at him, then down at his hand, a motion she repeated about five times till she took it.

“Okay… Okay, but I have to get a real say. A real seat at the table.”

“Alright!” Shane boldly affirmed his stance towards her.

“Alright…By the way,” she remembered a thought that nags her. “Philip Blake? What the fuck? What happened to Lance Hornsby?”

“Hornsby is running for his final term. It’s simply replenishing the stock. You know better, K.”

“With Philip Blake?”

“Dad and Grandpa likes him. Little matters. You know that. Besides, it ain’t our concern.”

“Not our concern? If he’s anything like Hornsby, it's definitely yours.”

“I ain’t had a one-on-one with the guy yet. What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Shane… You gotta a black wife and biracial children. Come on.”

“My family was fine before; they’re gonna be fine after.”

“Okay.” Kendall threw up her hands in defeat. “We are late, so we should head in.”

Dinner was long concluded. Light from the patio shone through the small window, a scented candle aiding in the welcoming shadows of the. At 11:00 p.m., only the estate guards were active. Kendall went upstairs first, leaving Shane sitting on the bottom stairs. He washed his face with his hands as if attempting to wake himself up by wiping away the fatigue and puffiness. Getting up, he considered it to require more work than it was worth. When he and his wife slept at his grandfather’s, the corridor to their shared bedroom seemed four times longer than usual. Walking in, he noticed her sitting up in the bed with her back against the headboard, reading 'Anna Karenina' by Leo Tolstoy. She didn’t raise her gaze at him, nor did she welcome him as she always did. He dragged out a fresh bathrobe and went to the bathroom. The water from the shower was relaxing, and when he came out, he wondered if he should have stayed since his darling wife had now decided he was worth her time.

“Nothing to say, huh?”

“Michonne… not tonight. I’m fucking tired.”

“Okay!” Head nodding up and down like a bobblehead, she bent the tip of the page she was reading and put her book on the nightstand. “You’re… tired! Shane is tired! Should I buy a cake? Should I invite Beyoncé to sing for you? Should I go outside naked and scream it at the top of my lungs?”

“You gonna overreact?”

“Overreact… That’s what I’m doing, huh? Overreacting?”

“Imma break this down for you to understand, babe. I got work!”

“Oh, my fucking gosh—”

“I gotta work, to provide, for my kids, So that your ass can enjoy all the fancy shit you love—”

“You’re full of shit!”

“That fancy wine, that fancy clothes and shoes, The nice houses and nice cars—”

“Cut the bullshit! You are a billionaire! You don’t have to work a day in your life because unlike most, you were born lucky! And you will inherit billions more when Ronan and John croaks, throw your mother in there! This isn’t about me or the kids! It’s not about us, It’s about you!”

“Me! You're so damn vindictive…”

“I don’t get your need to have your daddy’s attention... You are his favourite. Does that make you feel better? You’re his favourite, which means you’re his favourite toy.”

“Don’t. Just don’t.”

“What is with this need—this desperate need for recognition and affection from a man who doesn’t deserve it? If it weren’t for the monthly family weekends, which you’ve been ducking for how long now, your kids wouldn’t have even gotten a glimpse of you! When was the last time you saw them awake, Shane? Do you even remember?”

“Everything I do, I do for my kids! I ain’t like you making it sound like I’m out here abandoning my kids. You been telling ‘em this shit? It ends now! I ain’t having it!”

“Keep your voice down or so help me, God! The fact that you think I’d even do something like that... Go sleep in another room. I don’t want to see your face right now.”

“People will see us.”

“They’ve already fucking heard us, Shane! Your voice, it tends to carry.”

“Imma give you your space… Gosh, you’re fucking crazy.”

“Maybe so, but I’m not a piece of shit like you. Get out Bill Clinton. I need my beauty sleep.”

Shane stood unmoving, examining his wife’s back as she prepared for bed, not paying him any mind. He rubbed his hand over his face, through his hair and bit his lip before storming out, slamming the bedroom door behind him shut. It was only when he was out of the room that Michonne let her locs down and looked at where he left. She slipped into her silk nightgown and went to bed. At the same time, a young man with ocean-blue eyes, walked under the starry night sky, thinking back to a simpler time.

7 years, 7 months prior

The sky was illuminated with stars like embers. It was the promise of life in the dark, a feeling of warmth emerging from the cold. It should've been a vastness to offer humility and an unending expanse to inspire thankfulness for the comfort of home. Rick considered each night’s sky a new gift, no matter how many years passed. It made him feel better. And he hopes it will now. As he walked through the starry night, he met the figure of a woman’s back. She didn’t move a muscle and uncharitably gazed at what he sorted out. He recognised her immediately, and as he stepped unwittingly towards her, he noticed her tear-drained face. Each drop is like a shard of glass or a diamond.

“Michonne?” She didn’t answer. It was almost like she was lost in her mind. “Michonne?” It was the second call on which she turned to him. She stared at him, then ran her fingers over her wedding ring.

“Did you know?” It was uttered so minutely, he didn’t know if he missed some of her question.

“What?”

“Did you know about her?” They both understood exactly who she was referring to.

“I’m sorry…”

“Who else? Who else knew?” He couldn’t answer her obvious, but tragic question. “So everyone knew? I was just a fool to laugh at.” Rick could tell she'd sobbed extensively and for a long time since her eyes were swollen and most likely red. Her lips formed a half-formed, lifeless smile, and she tightened her crossed arms until she was more or less cradling herself.

“Shhh, it’s not worth it.” He rushed to her and gave her the warmest embrace he could muster. “I’m sorry.”

“I lost my baby… I lost my baby…”

He wrapped her more tightly, unsure how to react. She rocked softly back and forth, her voice devolving into an inconsolable whine, gasping between wails, hardly able to gather her breath for the next, unaware she even was doing it. He gave her a soothing hug and offered compassion without words, whilst he placed a hand on her lower back and gently guided her to sit down. They didn't say anymore and held her chilled hand, enabling her to let it all out.

Present

If Rick could mark the day their relationship changed, it’d be then. He stopped being the distant brother-in-law and became a friend. He became a friend for her to cry on and he never minded. He reached in his pocket for a smoke, making his way through the graceful garden, when he saw a woman smoking by herself.

“I didn’t expect you here. Come to your mother.”

“It's quiet out here… It’s nice…”

“As opposed to?”

“Your son and his wife are fighting…”

“Hmm… Is it about that woman?”

“I don’t really know.”

“Your brother needs to let that woman go, for his own sake.”

“Mmm… Mom… I—I’m probably gonna break your heart. I just hope you can go on loving me like you been… I know it may be a selfish thing to want, but I want it nonetheless…”

“You were premature when I had you… So small—so frail yet perfect. I spent six months up and down with you in a hospital because I could not lose you… Shane, Monty, Kendall... They’ve never been mine, but their father’s. You—you’re mine. You’re my boy, my sweet boy and you’ll always be my boy.” Eleanor held his cheek. “You got as much right as they do to fight. I love you, and I always will.”

…

…

…

Keynotes-

Sandalwood is a proven relaxant, decreasing anxiety, calming the nervous system, and assisting with better quality sleep. Its benefits are realised upon inhalation of the sweet, woody fragrance or when absorbed through the skin.

The Paris Wife is a fictional account of the relationship between Ernest Hemingway and his first wife, Hadley Richardson. The book follows the doomed relationship from its inception up until its dissolution several years later.

Black dahlias symbolise betrayal and sadness. They aren’t actually black but a really dark crimson that can sometimes give the illusion of them being black. Most notably, they're associated with the infamous murder of Elizabeth Short in 1947 in Los Angeles. This case became known as “The Black Dahlia” murder, and it remains unsolved to this day. Can you see where I’m going with this ;D

Mimosa pudica, or shame plant, is a creeping annual or perennial flowering plant. It is often grown for its curiosity value. The sensitive compound leaves fold inward, droop when touched or shaken and re-open a few minutes later. Mimosa pudica is not a carnivorous plant.

Anna Karenina is a novel by the Russian author Leo Tolstoy, first published in book form in 1878. The narrative centers on the adulterous affair between Anna, wife of Aleksey Karenin, and Count Vronsky, a young bachelor. Karenin's discovery of the liaison arouses only his concern for his public image. Anna promises discretion for the sake of her husband and young son but eventually becomes pregnant by Vronsky. The story tells about the dangers of idealising a partner, the pitfalls of Romanticism, the difficulty of marriage and the importance of communication.

The plight of man is a biblical reference. It means to be under the control of someone else or something else or it means that the human race is under the domination of sin. We are all part of the dominion of sin. Man outside of Christ is under the control of sin and he is helpless to escape from it.

Prologue

Chapter-1

[vexic929]

Serum injection + Mind Games + Superpower Overload for the bingo board

(I assume this is like... you keep a running board and check off boxes as you write them until you get a bingo? I might be doing this wrong idk)

serum injection from Bad Things Happen Bingo info on Ricki and Gabi here and here

The serum burned on its way through Gabi's veins and she writhed on the table, trying to free herself from the straps that held her down. Her eyes itched and her vision shifted rapidly, the lights too bright as her pupils widened to a tiger's. Everything was suddenly painfully loud as she felt her ears shift; her skin itched and almost seemed to bubble as her body tried to transform against her will, cycling through multiple animals in rapid succession. She felt like she might be sick as her internal organs shifted again and again. What the hell was happening?

Somewhere, outside the chaos in her body, she registered the sounds of distant fighting echoing from the hallway to her left, but she couldn't focus on it for long, trying desperately to keep her body from shifting out of her control. Or maybe...maybe she could redirect it. Shift into something useful. Something small or...an octopus or something. Anything. Just not this.

The person who'd injected her was suddenly launched into the air out of her line of sight, followed by a very pissed-off looking Raven, presumably holding them up with his telekinetic powers if the way he was holding his hands was any indication. Rapid footsteps, and then Ricki was there too, tugging the straps loose with a concerned look.

"Gabi, hey, look at me. Are you hurt? What's going on?" Her voice was firm and soothing and she reached out but hesitated.

Probably scared touching her would hurt, Gabi thought hazily, she was probably right, too. Everything hurt.

"Raven, let him down. We need to get Gabi out of here." Ricki instructed, glancing back at the teen. He dropped his hands and Gabi heard a distant thud as the man crashed to the floor. She hoped it hurt.

Ricki reached for her again and Gabi growled at her, feeling her hackles raise. Moments later, she came back to her senses, color flooding her cheeks with embarrassment. Why the fuck had she growled at Ricki? She let out a shaky breath, trying to steady herself and Ricki's expression softened.

"Easy. We're going to get you out of here and figure out what they did to you. Will you let me help you?" Ricki spoke slowly and clearly, like she was talking to a scared animal. Well, Gabi supposed, she kind of was at the moment.

Gabi nodded and Ricki carefully helped her up. Her knees buckled and Raven immediately reached out to help steady her. Before she knew what she was doing, Gabi had dropped into an animalistic crouch and slashed at him with claws she hadn't realized she'd grown. He managed to dodge and backed off, hands raised defensively. Gabi blacked out.

When she came to, she was lying on a couch with a thick blanket over her. Her body felt sore and unfamiliar and she sat up slowly, taking in the dimly lit room. Ricki was sitting in a nearby chair, leaning forward with her elbows resting on her knees, chin resting on her fingers. She looked tired.

"Oh my god, please tell me I didn't kill anyone." Gabi blurted and Ricki shook her head with a small smile.

"No, everyone's fine. How do you feel?" She asked, studying Gabi closely.

"Shitty." Gabi admitted, wincing as her body throbbed in protest.

Ricki hummed. "I'll bet. You went on a bit of a rampage. Luckily that place was coming down anyway and nobody got in your way." She explained, then paused. "Do you remember anything?"

Gabi thought for a moment, then shook her head. "I don't know...everything's kind of hazy."

Ricki smiled but it looked a bit tight, stressed. "That's okay. Get some rest." She stood up and stretched and Gabi laid back down, pulling the blanket up over her shoulders. She still felt jittery, like she was ready to shift again at any moment, but with Ricki there, she felt safe.

[aladaylessecondblog]

Faal Hah Wuld but omegaverse

Author's Note: I can't just do the entire fic like this so I'm skipping over a lot. This goes up until just after the Bleak Falls Barrow bite

P.S.: Ok I wrote it, brain, can I PLEASE write something else now???

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

Traveling with Torovan had set an itch beneath Sadrith's skin, but she'd kept putting it off as annoyance. The man was arrogant beyond measure, and looked down on her for her skill in thievery and stealth. Yet...

Yet the snobbish alpha had a certain...well, she wasn't sure what to call it. Appeal? It mystified her to think of him as anything less than an uppity old mer who thought little of her. The strangest part was she felt the strength of that appeal more in the evening--and the only common denominator she could find to go along with that was her morning skooma dose finally wearing off. It only made her more eager to take the next morning dose, to ward off these thoughts and feelings that didn't make any sense.

The sight of his torso when they spent the evening in Blackreach had been...interesting. She was used to overfocusing on things, they'd just take hold of her mind and not let go for a while, but that interest, it had persisted. She told herself it was fine, it had only been a few days - it would pass. It always did.

But it was his scent that really seemed to hit her. Something of spice and musk, scents she wouldn't normally like but coming from Torovan they seemed almost...alluring. She wanted to plant herself in his robe just to get more of it, cover herself in it. But as with so many other strange habits and intrusive thoughts she brushed it off, even if it was more difficult with this. Her mind did strange things all the time, after all.

She vaguely recalled hearing something about an alpha's scent affecting others in different ways, though she couldn't remember too many details. Other alphas might be angered, betas didn't seem to be affected much at all, but omegas...

...well, she wasn't one, she knew that much. You had to present before anything could really happen, or at least that's what she'd been told. And she'd never presented. There were scent glands on her neck but if they produced anything none of the handful of lovers she'd had had ever said much about it.

Save, of course, a single exception--she'd flirted with Marcurio, that imperial mage for hire down in Riften. He'd mentioned her scent was off-putting, a vague 'earthy mint'. But thankfully, it was faint, and that hadn't stopped her enjoying his company.

All in all things had stayed relatively normal until they'd hit Bleak Falls Barrow. Torovan's blood bottles had broken, and (definitely recklessly) feeling curious about what it felt like to be bitten, fed from, Sadrith had offered her own neck.

"Are you SURE?" he asked.

"I've already eaten, I'm tired from the walking...it'll probably put me right to sleep. Go ahead, take my blood."

She'd taken her spot on her bedroll, and waited. Torovan had knelt beside her, leaned over, and for a moment she luxuriated in a deep inhale of his scent.

"You're too trusting," he said as he leaned down, "You know that can get you killed, don't you?"

"If you were going to kill me you'd have done it already."

A brief brush of his fangs against her neck. A slight tenseness, and then--eagerness? Where had that come from?

Sadrith's entire body jolted when the fangs pierced her neck, though - and what followed was an absolutely divine spasm of pleasure. She only barely stopped herself crying out, but still a stifled moan passed her lips.

Torovan seemed unaware of all this--he was hungry, after all, and her blood was the main point. There was a sudden growl, and she stayed limp to make it easier for him to feed. He guzzled it, like he hadn't tasted blood in weeks, like--

--suddenly his tongue swiped upwards, and he jolted back, away from her. Somewhat dizzied, Sadrith reached up to heal the wound, confused as to why even stroking over the bloodied spot gave off the pleasurable tingle that it did.

"Why didn't you TELL ME?" Torovan suddenly burst out, wiping away the few drops of blood still on his lips.

"Tell you what?" Sadrith swayed a little as she sat up, and found herself pushed back down. Puzzlingly, Torovan brought the pillow from his bedroll over and slipped it beneath the one of her own. "I don't understand."

"That you were an omega. Did you think you were clever, hiding it?"

"Clever--what--no! I wasn't lying when I said I'd never presented. I've never shown any signs of any of..."

She actually felt insulted. Another thing to puzzle over was the anger in that eye of his she could see. He was furious with her, and the thought had never really bothered her before. ...so why did it now?

Unless...

"Oh, no..." Again she sat up, and as Torovan was on the point of getting up she reached for him. "I'm sorry, I didn't--I really didn't know."

Her hand caught the sleeve of his robe but he yanked it quickly away.

Sadrith felt a stab of pain in her chest and hated it instantly. It felt like the sort she got when panic came on her suddenly, and what she supposed must be the oft-talked-about bond would've told her what she needed to know if she'd been too dim to figure it out from his reaction.

He doesn't want this.

She barely knew him but that feeling was inexpressibly painful, and she resented it just for existing. Great - just what she needed, more thoughts and feelings she couldn't control! She didn't want it either - or at least thought she didn't. There was a craving for his company she couldn't simply shove off.

The sight of Torovan's slowly retreating back had a cold feeling creeping up once the pain receded.

Sadrith turned away, and curled up to the pillows. The scent of him was on it at least, and that seemed to calm the sudden drop in her mood a bit - but not by all that much.

Your mate does not want you.

She tossed and turned a bit. Of course. Of COURSE, with all the shit that had been flung at her since coming to Skyrim, of course there'd be added an accidental claiming from someone who didn't want her anyway.

The thoughts of him as a mate were just her mind playing tricks on her like it did with everything else. This was just from the bite. It was nothing. Fated mates didn't just happen anymore.

Your mate does not want you.

Everything would be FINE. She'd just have to get him down to Riften and back to Winterhold and then--

Sleep was slow to come, but it did finally come to send her into a dreamless oblivion.

When they woke they did their best to ignore one another. He barely looked at her, didn't speak to her, and once they were ready for the day headed for the barrow's door without a word.

As she walked Sadrith hunted through her bags for a scarf, and placed it carefully around her neck.

If he was going to reject her, she was going to hide that the bite had ever happened.

As she (surreptitiously) took her morning dose of skooma she reiterated it.

Everything would be FINE.

[ai-higurashi]

Betrayal, break, fear, hate with CAPRIKON MUHAHA!!! GIVE US THE AWFUL LADY!!!

Jsjsjsj forcing me to work on her character, how awful of you XD

betrayal: Has your OC ever been betrayed by someone they thought they could trust? Has your OC ever betrayed someone who trusted them?

I don't know if someone she "thought she could trust" is the right expression but uh...

*Points at the whole situation with Skearhead in the finale*

Not that she thought he wouldn't get rid of her the moment she wasn't useful, nah man, that guy is killing her (or well. Mind-controlling her the way he did with Minoton if he feels like it) SO fast if she's ever not needed anymore. But she thought he at least had the best intentions towards the empire, what the fuck man. Imagine being such a weak-ass bitch you had to stab the previous ruler from the back in order to get the upper hand smh. Imagine being such a weak-ass bitch you had to do it AGAIN.

She has definitely thrown other people under the bus (either fellow soldiers or people who were just starting) whenever she could get anything out of it (mostly power, rank or amusement).

break: What would cause your OC to break down completely? What do they look like when that happens? Has anyone ever seen them at their lowest?

I think if she somehow lost her Undergu powers. She relies heavily on them in a fight, and yeah, she's physically strong too, but then she'd be heavily weakened, and weaklings have no place in the Empire.

I think she'd be absolutely terrified. Probably shaking and crying trying to reach for them until the end.

And would never let anyone see her at her lowest if she had any say in the matter, would rather die than let a single soul see her vulnerable.

fear: What is your OC's greatest fear? What do they do when confronted with it? Are they open with their fear, or do they hide it away?

Fear? Don't know them. Definitely it's not falling now that she's gotten so high up the ranks, definitely not being discarded, definitely not losing herself to the power she should be strong enough to control, what are you talking about. If Undergu people does sleep, she definitely doesn't have nightmares after seeing what happened to Minoton, aka. Someone who was WAY stronger than she is. Definitely doesn't train extra hard afterwards to have an even better grip on the Undergu Energy in case she's ever in the same situation. That would be crazy haha.

Definitely is not also a bit curious about whether she'd ever also be able to use it on someone in the same way, I mean, who said that.

hate: What does your OC hate? Why? How do they act towards the object of their hatred?

Weak people who just cry about it and behave like it. If they're prideful and arrogant to mask it, that's fine, those idiots are always the funniest to watch when they eventually talk themselves into something they can't actually deal with. But just crying and complaining and feeling sorry for yourself without even the smallest attempt at trying? Disgusting. How is she supposed to work with that. Get them out of her sight.

[bitemedotmp3]

🌀 for a random number!

11. — heartbeat

"Frickin'- Move, dude! You're taking up way too much space!"

"There's no need to shout, I can hear you fine. And I'm already back against the wall, so this is as much room as we have."

The only thing visible in the dark, cramped space is two pairs of eyes, one a honeyed amber, and the other a clashing gradient. The yellow eyes wear an expression of strained indifference, while the others are just glaring.

"I hope you understand this is your fault," says J. "If you weren't snooping around these unstable ruins, we wouldn't have gotten trapped beneath the rubble."

If Uzi's eyes could shoot lasers, J would be a puddle by now. "My fault- Bite me! It was only unstable because your fat ass was following me! The platform would've been fine if it was just me, I know what I'm doing!"

"My body is a perfectly reasonable weight. It isn't my fault that the construction of this place is so... shoddy."

Uzi rolls her eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure if JCJensen built the place, all the buildings would still be standing, and they'd be made of gold, too."

The corporate slander makes J seethe. "I don't see why you're being so hostile."

"You were stalking me! I didn't even know you were in this city and the first time I see you is right before you knock the floor out from my feet!"

"It wasn't on purpose!"

Uzi scoffs and lapses into silence. She comes out to Yesteryear to get away from people, so who would've thought she'd have someone tagging along without her knowledge, and it'd be J?

J is equally dis-inclined to talk, and Uzi can see the glow of her phone screen as she pulls it out. "Ugh, no signal here," she mutters.

"Gotta call your boss to come bail you out?"

"If the alternative is overheating to the point of catastrophic system failure while being stuck with you, then yes. I'll call the boss."

"Bit off more than you could chew. Classic J."

"Or maybe I'll kill myself sometime in the next hour. It'd be preferable to this."

"Yeah right. Disassembly Drone OS doesn't have a self-destruct function."

"...How would you know?"

Can't admit she was poking around in some of their heads, that's good leverage. "I'm dating one, idiot."

J squints, and then her eyes widen. "You're dating V?!"

"Wh- No! N! I'm dating N!"

"Oh! Oh. I haven't seen him in so long, I'd forgotten he exists. Though I suppose he could've been replaced with a large lamp and it would more or less be the same thing."

"Don't be a dick!" There's the sound of boots scraping against rubble, and J cries out.

"Stop kicking me! You're going to make this place even hotter, moron!"

"Bite me!"

"Don't tempt me! It'd help me live longer, and it'd be quiet!"

Uzi huffs and stops, because J does have a point. Both drones run hot, and if the alcove they're stuck in gets too warm, they'll probably shut down. And it would be super embarrassing if Uzi's first death in Spirale was getting stuck in an oven with her... enemy? Yeah, enemy. But now that she's stopped for a moment, she can give this some more thought. Cyn put J up to this, right? And the only reason J hasn't attacked is because of the "deal" her boss has made with Uzi, which is also the only reason Uzi didn't jump her on sight.

All this way from Earth, from Copper 9, all this way from their whole frickin' universe, and J is still some lame bootlicker.

...Actually, that's not the only reason Uzi doesn't have it out for her. There's also V to consider, because the last time Uzi zinged J (and she wasn't even here!), V got upset. Whatever's going on there is... complicated, and Uzi likes V enough that if she asked her not to blow J's head off with her railgun, she'd hold off. For now.

"Stop staring," says J.

Uzi blinks, a soft blip sounding through the alcove as her processors spin down from deep thought. "Wasn't staring. Was thinking about stuff."

J snorts. "And what do worker drones think about? Huddling in fear? Their impending deaths? Big doors, apparently?"

"You're so uncreative that I actually feel sorry for you."

"Wh- I don't need your pity!"

"Uh-huh."

The two drones lapse into silence again, and Uzi can see J pointedly not looking in her direction. Now that she thinks about it, a disassembly drone would actually be able to see her with their enhanced sensor suite. So can she see Uzi do this?

"Really? Middle finger? How childish."

"Huh. Guess you can see me."

"Of course I can. Not that there's much to see."

Uzi watches J roll her eyes and go back to staring at the wall. After another short silence, she speaks. "Y'know, I would've told you if you just asked."

J looks over, eyes narrowed. "Told me what?"

"What I was doing. You ever think to just ask?"

"No. You'd have no reason to tell me."

"No reason to hide it, either. I just come out here looking for stuff to salvage in the ruins. Also, it kind of reminds me of Copper 9, especially now that it's snowing. That's all."

"That's it? How... Disappointing."

"Yeah. You're about to die, stuck in a wall, for no reason other than someone told you to. Classic J. Hehe-ow!"

Those peg feet hurt. "What would you know? About me, about anything?" snarls J.

"I'm not telling you that! Especially since you kicked me! Bitch."

"Toaster."

"Ugh."

"Sigh."

"...Did you just say sigh?"

"Quiet."

And so more silence ensues. Bit by bit, Uzi can feel the temperature rising in their crevice, but it's not coming from her. "I can feel your core overheating from here," she says, frowning.

J sighs. "I haven't had much oil since I got here."

"You can just buy some from the store, dude. Synthetic, but-"

"I know, I know. I've just been busy. Not that you'd understand."

"Busy stalking me?"

"Sure. That's all I do, yeah. I just follow you around. You specifically, because you're the most important thing in the entire city."

"Aw. And she does it for free."

"Has anyone ever told you you're the most irritating person on the planet?"

"Yeah, like two-thirds of my classmates. And my teacher."

"Wonderful."

The heat is getting uncomfortable now. "Oh, you're even worse off than I thought," says Uzi. "I think I can hear your core trying to pump."

"Robo-God, I hope I die soon."

Uzi does too, but... Well, she's got her reasons. She reaches into her pocket and withdraws a small bottle, holding it out to J. "Here. I don't wanna be stuck in here with your corpse."

"Trying to poison me? That's new."

"No, stupid." Uzi unscrews the lid, and her chemo-sensors can easily pick up the crude scent in the small space. "It's oil. I don't go out without an emergency supply because I'm not an idiot."

One of J's eyes flashes to an X, and Uzi can hear her shift forward. "And you're... Giving it to me? What's the angle here? How does this benefit you?"

"I mean, you can have some. And you... You honestly wouldn't get it."

J's eyes dart from Uzi, to the bottle, and back, and she finally snatches it away. There's the sound of desperate gulping- gross - and then a satisfied sigh. The bottle is handed back to Uzi, noticeably empty. "I said some."

"I heard. But you know this doesn't change anything," says J.

"I know."

"You're just making a tactical decision, as am I. We're both stuck here, in this city, and in this hole."

Uzi can hear something rumbling outside, and she just thinks Finally. "Well, hopefully not much longer," she says.

"We're still going to die, of course, but- What's that noise?"

Both drones flinch from the sudden light that floods their prison as a large chunk of rubble is lifted away. As Uzi's optics adjust, she can see a familiar and weirdly-hot silhouette standing against the moon, and she sighs in relief.

"Uzi, you good?" says V. "Honestly, I just followed the path of destruction, and- You."

Her eyes settle squarely on J, who flinches for a moment before rising to her feet. "Yes, me," she says, brushing dust from her skirt. "But as I was telling this purple thing, it was entirely her own fault that we were trapped. Regardless, why are you here?"

"Texted her as soon as I saw you were following me," says Uzi. "So I knew she'd show up eventually."

"It's far without wings. But about her" -she tilts her head towards J- "do I need to do something about this?"

Uzi considers it for a moment. If there's consonant-on-consonant violence, would that violate her deal with Cyn? But more importantly, is it worth it? V might be ready to throw down, but Uzi can't help but think that if she'd lifted the rock and found J's body, it probably would've bummed the mood. After a moment, she shakes her head. "Nah, forget her. 'Cause look what I found!"

From the inside of her hoodie she pulls out a snap case and holds it out to V. "Check it out! Jurassic World!"

V grins, snatching the DVD. "Finally. Thought you'd never find it."

"Well, probably could've gone faster if someone helped."

"Hmm... Nah. C'mon, let's go. This place is depressing."

Uzi turns, but J speaks up. "You watch movies together?"

"Yeah. Let me guess, no movie nights with the boss? Bummer," says Uzi, grabbing the case back. "Maybe if you ask nice, she'll let you watch Texas Chainsaw Massacre or something."

Snickering, Uzi turns to follow V, who's making an effort to not look at her former coworker. But after a moment, and a quick thought, Uzi looks back at the third drone.

"Hey, J," she calls. "Here."

J turns to face her, and her expression instantly falls. "Middle finger again? Really?"

Yeah. Really.