#she's trying so hard to protest how humans treat animals and getting everything wrong

[thehollowwriter]

Some of ya'll have not experienced the mind boggling madness that is one of the girls with thee highest grades in your class believing in conspiracy theories and common myths. I recommend it, 10/10 funny and slightly enraging depending on the topic

[lexosaurus]

Everything Was White Part 13

[see all chapters]

read on: [ffn] / [ao3]

General Warning: From this point on this fic is going to deal with reoccurring themes that may be triggering to some. Please check out the ao3 tags if you’re unsure.

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Muffled voices pulled him from the comfort of unconsciousness, shaking his mind awake despite his feeble attempts to brush them off. For a moment, he thought about trying to tell the voices to keep it down, but that would have been too much effort, and he was so comfortable in this blanket and pillow…

…

…

...the voices rose in volume, this time gaining clarity, shape. Almost words. Close, but not quite. Not yet. Danny wasn’t ready. Five more minutes, he was so tired…

“...Danny…”

Wait.

What was that?

His eyes fluttered open, and he immediately took stock of his unfamiliar surroundings. He was...not in his bedroom. He was in his living room, on the couch where he must have fallen asleep after his almost mental breakdown over a glass of water.

How embarrassing. Danny hoped that no one spotted the water glass on the rug. Or, if they had, they hadn’t thought anything about it. Hadn’t figured out that it was on the floor because Danny tried to get water from the sink without using his wheelchair.

Maybe they wouldn’t connect the dots. Honestly, the thought of seeing that pitying expression on their faces as they watched him fail to do a stupidly simple task made him want to fall into a coma.

Oh well. He was awake now. Might as well go get something to eat to make his family and therapists proud.

Just as he was about to toss the blanket off his body, Jazz’s quiet voice sounded from the kitchen. “You can’t keep the truth from him forever.”

“We can, at least for now,” his dad said.

“It’s not going to work.”

Danny froze, the last of his fatigue zapped from his brain.

What truth? What were they talking about? What was going on in there?

He debated standing up and announcing his presence, but the blossoming sense of dread in his gut kept him still.

Whatever was going on, he had a sinking feeling that it was about him.

His mother spoke up. “We have to. It’s for his own safety.”

“It’s wrong,” Jazz countered. “It’s wrong to keep secrets like this.”

“I know, Jazz. But if we told Danny, he…”

His eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat.

Tell him what? 

“Jazz, you have to understand. With Danny in the position that he’s in right now, there are just certain limitations that we need in this house in order to stay on top of his recovery,” Jack explained.

“But cutting him off from his core?”

It was as if he were punched in the gut. He clenched the blanket, balling the edges in his fists. His instincts were screaming at him to jump up and demand the truth, but he buried that part of him back down inside his mind.

They would never tell him. They didn’t trust him enough. He wasn’t human enough.

But they always trusted Jazz. They favored her. She was the ideal child with her perfect grades, perfect ambitions, perfect brain.

Even if they wouldn’t tell him, of course they would tell her. 

“We have to do it, honey. We have no choice,” Maddie said.

“You see how he’s reacting to this though, right? He’s not himself.”

“We know, but it’s what needs to be done. He can’t be given access to his core, not right now.”

Why though, Dad? Tell me why...

“This is cruel,” Jazz said.

There was a brief pause, each second like a knife in Danny’s chest. He wanted so badly to snap, but he forced himself to stay still. To stay silent.

To listen.

There was a sigh, and Maddie broke the silence. “You have no idea how much it hurts us to see him like this. We know it isn’t right to keep a ghost from its core but...at the school that day. Jazz, I’ve never seen him like that. And it terrified me.”

Danny felt his blood drain from his face. His body turned ice cold.

He knew what they were talking about, and he assumed that that day was a distant memory in the past, something that would never be talked about again. And yet, here his parents were, digging up the most humiliating moment in Danny’s life, throwing it at his face like a weapon of why he couldn’t possibly be allowed his ghost half, why he needed to be shut off from himself.

“He’s come a long way since then.”

“Not long enough.”

They didn’t know. They didn’t understand what it was like. They weren’t there, they weren’t the ones who were cut open, who were beaten, who spent all day in and out looking at white walls, white floors, white suits, white ceilings, white equipment.

He hadn’t been himself that day at the school. He’d just come home from the hospital, he was coming off of a cocktail of heavy pain medication, he was physically exhausted from the PT and mentally exhausted from everything else. 

Okay, so he snapped in the locker room. He’d been pushed back into school, pushed into being around people, pushed into acting normal, like nothing was wrong, and the world was warping around him and he just fell apart. He freaked out, he broke a mirror, Dash and Kwan found him, and he paid the consequences for it.

“I don’t think he’d do that again.”

“You don’t know that, Jazz.”

“But his Obsession—”

“It’s protection. Phantom will make him do whatever it can in order to protect itself. Even if that means…”

It. 

The word echoed in Danny’s head.

You’re an it.

Something inside him cracked.

His vision glazed over, and suddenly the two students in Casper he’d hoped to never cross paths with again were standing over him, approaching cautiously, as if he were a wounded animal.

“Give me the glass, Danny,” Dash had said. “You don’t need it. Just give it to me, I’ll hang onto it for you. I’ll keep it safe.”

He looked down, and blood trickled through his fingers, splattering onto the white tile.

It was red. Why was it red?

Crack.

Maddie’s voice faded back into his consciousness. “We just can’t risk it.”

“So what, your genius idea is to keep lying to him about why you won’t take the chip out? Feed him some bullshit excuse about the lab? Danny’s a human but he’s also a ghost! You can’t keep him from his core and expect him to turn out okay!”

“We know that.”

“No, you clearly don’t!”

“Keep your voice down, hun. He’s asleep.”

“Then stop lying to him. Tell him the real reason why you won’t give him Phantom back.”

Danny couldn’t breathe.

His parents. The people who had gone to court for him, who fought so hard to get him home, who assured him that they’d go to the moon and back if it meant keeping him safe. 

He trusted them.

And they...they just…

Crack.

“You know we can’t do that,” his father said. “You said it yourself, Danny’s just as much human as he is ghost. Ghosts don’t have the capacity to think rationally about something like that.”

They just…

“Kwan, get Lancer.”

He didn’t understand. Why were those two here?

“Please, give me the mirror, Danny.”

No, they didn’t get it. He needed this. This was the only thing he could do, it was the only way out. He couldn’t let Operative O take his body again.

“Danny...”

They were afraid, he realized. They thought he was going to hurt them. He was a rabid animal, wasn’t he? And they thought he would attack them?

Another drop of blood splashed onto the tile.

Crack.

Jazz scoffed. “I cannot believe you would just—”

“He’s fragile, Jazz!” Maddie protested. “Whatever happened in the government facility changed him. He’s not the same boy he used to be, something inside him is fundamentally different now. Frankly, we have no idea how that has affected his Obsession.”

His head spun.

They lied to him.

“What, so the better option is to just cut him off from his core altogether and force him to play human all day? Great plan, Mom.”

“If that’s what we need to do to keep him safe, then yes, that is the better option.”

The mirror shattered, the pieces raining down, echoing as they bounced against the tiles. He watched with unfocused eyes as everything around him crumbled.

His heart pounded in his ears, drowning out the arguing voices in the kitchen. He fell to the floor and clutched a broken shard. 

He needed...he needed to...

Protect.

Danny saw red. 

His lips moved before he could stop them. “I thought you’d accepted me.”

The argument from the kitchen came to a screeching halt. 

“Danny! I didn’t—”

“No!” Danny pushed himself to a seated position. 

They kept him from his core on purpose. 

His parents, after all those painstaking hours in family therapy, all that talk about how they were a team and how they needed to work together, had lied to him.

They weren’t a team. They had never been a team. Danny was just…

He was just a ghost to them.

An irrational, stupid, ectoplasmic creature. 

They scrambled from the kitchen, moving into the living room with fear strewn across their faces. 

They hate ghosts. You know this, Fenturd. They hate you.

“We do accept you, Danno. We love you.”

They didn’t love him.

“We were just trying to protect you. Please understand, Danny,” Maddie begged.

They’re scared of you. They don’t know what it means to protect. They’re lying.

“Danny, you need to understand—”

“SHUT UP!” Danny gripped his hair with his hands, covering his ears to quiet the hurricane of emotions devastating his mind. “Shut up, shut up!” 

He didn’t know whether to laugh, scream, or cry. After all this talk, his parents had never accepted him as a ghost at all.

“I’m so sorry, son,” Jack said.

“I can’t—I can’t!” Danny spat out. He had a thousand different responses swirling through his brain, so many things he wanted to say, but he couldn’t. His brain wasn’t working, his voice wasn’t working, and everything he saw was painted in blood.

They lied to him.

“I—you—”

“Danny, you need to breathe,” Jazz said, but Danny could recognize that tone. That was the same voice she used when trying to calm down the neighbor’s hyperactive dog that had a bad habit of finding ways out of its fence.

Danny ripped his head out of his arms, swiveling up to meet the concerned gazes of his family. “Shut up! I’m not a fucking dog!”

“Danny, I never—”

“Stop treating me like a fucking animal! I’m not—I’m not!” Danny attempted to grip the coffee table to push himself up, but he only succeeded in falling back onto the couch. He cursed and blinked away the mist that clouded his vision because he was not crying right now. His parents did not get to see that.

Maddie jumped forward. “Careful!”

“No, shut the fuck up!” Danny yelled. “You don’t get to—to be concerned! You don’t get that!”

Maddie stepped back, looking as if someone slapped her across the face.

“Danny, please, calm down,” Jack tried.

If anything, the red lining in his vision only deepened. “No! I won’t, and you don’t—don’t—ah!” Danny hit his forehead with his hand, frustration clawing at his throat.

There was so much he wanted to say, but he physically couldn’t get it out. He couldn’t stand, he couldn’t talk, he could only sit here drowning in rage.

His body was betraying him.

His parents could fix this right now if they wanted to. They could take him down to the lab, remove the chip, give Danny any semblance of freedom back. They could do that.

But they stood there doing nothing. 

They like you like this. Helpless. Grounded. Easy to control.

“You lied to me! You knew—you fucking—my core isn’t even damaged, is it?”

Jack wrapped his arm around Maddie, who hadn’t even bothered to wipe away the tears that had spilled on her cheeks.

Because of him.

They hate you. 

“Is it?” Danny pressed, but he didn’t need a response. He knew the answer. He knew the truth.

It was written all over his parents' faces.

“Was my core ever damaged? At all?”

“It was, but—”

Danny shook his head in disbelief. “Cores are self-re—self-regenerating. I—I knew that. I knew that! It—it was healed before I left the hospital, right?”

His parents refused to meet his eyes.

“You lied to me. All this time, and—and you...you just…” Danny tried to stand up again, but failed. “I’m so fucking sick of this!”

“Danny, please understand. We only did it because we needed to protect you.”

“Protect me?” He let out a sardonic laugh. “You thought—you seriously thought you were—you were fucking protecting me? Do you not...even see? I can’t—I can’t even fucking stand up! I can’t stand! I can’t do anything! And you thought you were protecting me? Are you serious?”

Jack’s lips thinned. “Danny, do you not realize how close we were to losing you? And I don’t mean to the government. You blasted a school mirror and then tried to use one of the pieces to kill yourself! I mean, come on, son!”

Danny lurched back, stunned. “I wasn’t trying to kill myself!”

“Then what were you trying to do, huh?” Jack shouted back. “Because not even a few hours after we dropped you off back at school, we get a call from Mr. Lancer saying a few students found you in the locker room threatening suicide because you thought you were back with the government! What do you expect us to think, Danny? We’re your parents.”

“Shut up!” Danny squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the flashes of memory that threatened to surface.

“Jack—”

“No, Maddie—”

They hate you. 

His throat burned. “Shut up!” 

It wasn’t fair. His parents weren’t being fair. That incident—that was a fluke. An anomaly. And yet they were punishing Danny for something that happened weeks ago, before he went through the painstaking ordeal of inpatient and psychiatry and the PHP and the whole other host of therapies he’d been forced into.

“What was the point in sending me to—to inpatient then? If you were just going to keep treating me like a stupid animal?”

“Danny, we’re not treating you like an animal.”

“You sure as hell got me caged up like one!”

“Don’t talk to your mother that way!”

“Jack, honey—”

“Everyone, please calm down!”

“Stay out of this, Jazz!”

“Danny, I think—”

“I don’t care what you think!”

“Guys—”

“I NEED MY CORE!” Danny screamed, the sob finally tearing its way out of his throat.

His family fell into a deafening silence, and Danny could feel their stares as ugly sobs overtook him, ripping down any semblance of an emotional wall he’d managed to construct over these weeks.

His tears boiled on his skin, and he dug his hands in his hair in a desperate attempt to ground himself. But it didn’t matter, his body shook uncontrollably, his emotions burning through his throat leaving him gasping for air.

All while his parents stood there ten feet away from him. Frozen, unwilling to approach. Because he was a halfa, a monster, broken, unstable, trapped, feared. He was the demon that parents warned their children about, the thing that his parents had dedicated their careers to developing weapons against, a creature so dangerous that the government had funded an entire group to research and exterminate.

And up until two months ago, it was legal for him to be vivisected, to be experimented on, to be tortured to the point of paralysis.

He rocked back and forth, struggling to piece himself back together. And when he could make it through a shuddering breath without breaking down again, all he could do was croak out, “Why…”

His parents remained unmoving, faces pale, arms by their sides. Tears streaked his mother’s and sister’s cheeks, and his father’s unblinking gaze bore down on him.

But their silence wasn’t good enough, their sorrow and tears weren’t good enough. An invisible wall was growing between them with each passing second and they couldn’t even see it.

They know. They’re doing it on purpose. They don’t care about you.

“Why?” Danny insisted. “How could—how could you...how could you do this to me? I’m...I just…”

“We had to, son,” his father said. The moonlight cast a shadow over his face. “It was for your own safety.”

No. Danny was done with the lies. Done with the excuses. 

He was done.

Flaring his eyes, he bit back, “My safety, or yours?” 

His parents flinched, and Danny couldn’t find himself to care. They’d lied to him, they’d dug their hole, so now they had to live in it.

“Danny, please…” Jazz stepped forward. “Don’t do this.”

“No! You—don’t you get it?” Danny pleaded. “I can’t—Mom, Dad, I feel like a prisoner. I’m trapped in my body. I can’t—I can’t live like this anymore! I can’t fucking do it! You have no idea...and you don’t even care!”

“Of course we care, Danno.”

“Then why? Tell me the truth! Please, tell me why because—” His voice broke, and his head fell back into his hands. “Please...tell me why…”

Jack sighed. “It was just the decision we felt we needed to make. It wasn’t easy, it wasn’t something we did because we wanted to hurt you. We love you, son. And we just wanted to know that you were safe.”

“We love you so much, sweetie.”

But they were blind because he wasn’t safe. And he was never going to be safe again. There would always be someone out there who had power over him, who wanted to control and erase him.

If they loved you, they would have listened.

They’re scared of you.

He glanced up to see Jack putting his arm around Maddie, pulling her in close. Jazz stood behind them, allowing their shadows to overtake her body.

Jazz said something, but Danny wasn’t listening. He didn’t care. He was trapped and completely alone. There would be no protests, no online petitions, and no jury on his side. No one to rescue him.

“Then give it—give me my core back.”

Jack shook his head. “I’m sorry son. We’ve made our decision.”

“I’ll find a way,” Danny insisted. “I know some ghosts. I’ll get them to—to take it out. You can’t...you—you can’t stop me.”

“Danny, I don’t think even Frostbite could—”

“You don’t know that, Jazz! He could—he could do it. He would figure it out if I asked.” 

His parents exchanged a look, one reminiscent of the exasperation when Danny would tell them that the detention hadn’t been his fault, that he did try to do the homework assignment, that he would try harder next time.

They didn’t believe him.

“He’ll do it,” he reiterated. 

“Danny, we’re not going to let any ghosts near you right now.”

“Like that ever worked before,” he retorted.

There was a pregnant pause, and Danny looked away. He felt nauseous, and anxiety speared through his chest.

“Please, I can’t—I can’t live like this. I can’t…” 

He knew how desperate he sounded, but for once he didn’t care. His parents were going to kill him by keeping his core locked up. 

Right now it was about self-preservation. If he couldn’t protect himself, it was over.

“Graduate from the PHP program first,” Maddie finally said. “Once you’re back in school, then we can talk, alright? We’ll talk about...about removing the chip.”

Danny whipped his head up, his eyes searching for any signs that she was lying, that she was going to pull the rug out from under him again.

But her face betrayed nothing.

“Graduate?” Danny breathed. “I just have to...graduate?”

“Yes. Show us that you’re okay enough to go back to school, and you can have your ghost half back.”

“I…” He tugged at his hair. “But that’s...that’s weeks…’

Maddie crossed her arms. “Those are my terms.”

Time slowed, and the distance between them only seemed to grow. He knew he was already behind leaving the PHP center that he was almost certain there was talk of shoving him back into inpatient.

But they didn’t get it. It wasn’t his fault, it was the government stalking him. It was Vlad. He had no choice, and he would never be able to graduate PHP. Not without his core.

“I—but—but, Mom. I need—”

“Son,” his dad said sharply. “I understand how difficult this is for you, but you’re not in a place where we can trust you right now. This is our compromise. Show us we can trust you, and you can have your freedom back.”

His eyes stung, and his throat was starting to squeeze shut.

No…

“Do we have a deal?”

This was impossible.

Even if Frostbite had a way of removing the chip, Danny had no way of finding him. Not without Clockwork’s interference, who didn’t seem to have any interest in contacting Danny as of late. 

The thought of Clockwork left a sour taste in Danny’s mouth. He hadn’t thought of the ancient ghost since his nights in the government compound, his body splayed out like a rag doll, shivering from shock. He remembered staring into the pitch black abyss around him begging for Clockwork to come help him.

But his calls were never answered.

Danny knew Clockwork could have freed him whenever he wanted, government ghost shields be damned. But he didn’t. And that made him just as guilty as everyone else.

And now Danny was alone, bound by his human physiology and his ghost hunter parents.

He had no choice.

“Okay. It’s—it’s a deal.”

---

His body was cold, dead, with waves of trembling coming in and out in spurts. Every breath hurt, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of the burning in his chest, the soreness in his throat, or the way the alien warmth in his core seemed more overbearing than ever. 

He could feel it, the hand reaching between his ribs, gripping his core with its warm, gloved fingers. It was revolting, violating, how the hands invaded his body, tearing off his skin and ribs as if he were nothing but a rotting carcass.

He felt dizzy. Lightheaded. He put a hand on his chest, crinkling his shirt in his fist. It was his core, he needed to protect it. 

But he was useless. Nothing. He was at the mercy of his parents who were all but holding a loaded gun to his head while telling him to trust them. Who lied to him that they accepted him, that they were there for him. 

That they loved him.

He was stupid, so stupid. After all the months of hearing them enthusiastically discuss the ways they’d love to rip him apart, what made him think they’d love him just like that? 

Their acceptance was conditional, and their conditions were impossible for him to meet. How the hell did they expect him to graduate from PHP and reenter society like a normal person while they were drowning his core like this? Did they not see how badly he was suffocating? How much he was screaming, thrashing in the ocean for air, desperately trying to fight the undertow pulling him further and further away from his sanity?

He wasn’t going to make it. He was going to fail, he was going to drown. He couldn’t do this.

But there’s one way, a small voice in his head whispered. You’ve done it before and you were fine. It helped you.

His eyes trailed over to his nightstand with his old model rocket sitting proudly on top. He had never flushed the oxycodone. 

Maybe…maybe…

It can help you again.

He just needed to graduate the PHP program and he would get his core back and then everything would be okay. He could work on his problems the right way later. The way he was supposed to be doing it, that he couldn’t do right now because he was still missing half of himself.

Two weeks. That was all he needed. Just two weeks worth of medication, and then he’d be on his way.

You need this.

He pushed himself up as if he were a puppet on strings. Everything was bleak, gray-washed and oppressive. Nausea rolled over him in waves and a hand gripped his throat, pulling the oxygen from his body.

The nightstand glowed in the moonlight, and like a moth Danny felt himself drawn closer to it. Tunnel vision took over, and the world morphed into a series of photos in a time lapse. Snapshot after snapshot flickered past his eyes until a hand—his hand—was pulling the drawer open to reveal an orange bottle inside.

You’re ready.

He couldn’t live like this anymore.

The fear, the anxiety, his core. It was all so much easier before, back in the hospital. Back when the only thing he had to worry about was what constellation he was going to draw that day. Back before he had to face the public, his family, or Vlad. Back before he knew that the government had his phone tapped and was watching his every move.

Back before he knew that his freedom was only temporary.

He was a sitting duck, a kid trapped in no man’s land with no weapon, no armor, nothing to keep him alive.

“Two weeks,” he whispered. Two weeks and then he would be okay. He would graduate from PHP, he would get to go back to school, he would become a regular person again. He just needed to get there first.

He opened the bottle and shook out a small white pill into the palm of his hand.

Two weeks.

Tilting his head back, he tossed the pill into his mouth, took a sip of water, and swallowed.

There. 

It was done.

---

Thank you @imekitty for beta-ing the fic as well as helping me organize my plot better!

Thanks for reading!

---

<previous chapter / next chapter>

[waiting-for-motivation]

the pretty nurse

summary: On his way back from 79s with his brothers, Fives discovers an injured loth cat. They get the animal to the next vet and the ARC trooper meets a very helpful nurse.

pairings: Fives x Reader, Rex, Echo, Hardcase, Kix, Jesse, Tup

warnings: literally every clone is drunk (except for rex), space racism, fluff

words: 1540 (wow)

a/n: this is not the best I ever wrote but I hope you can enjoy it nevertheless :(

MASTERLIST REQUEST RULES

“Why are you naked?“

“Where is your shirt?“

“Where were you?“

“What is that in your hands?“

These are unnecessary questions, at least in the ARC troopers mind. Fives stares at his brothers and takes a few steps forward to lift the bundle in his hands to their confused faces. A single fluffy ear appears out of the clones shirt with which he tries to warm the loth cat.

“It has a broken paw“, Fives explains and presses the injured animal carefully to his naked chest. There is a childish and above all drunken pout on his lips.

“We are not adopting it!“, Rex sighs and places a gloved hand on his forehead. His voice is firm and tolerates no protest. Almost every clone whines.

“I know where the next vet is!“, Echo exclaims and walks to Fives‘ side, laying a hand on his shoulder and showing him some kind of support. Both look pleadingly at their captain.

“Okay“, Rex says and rolls his eyes as his brothers start cheering and laughing. All of them follow Echo enthusiastically and with big smiles on their lips.

“Can I hold it?“, Hardcase asks while walking next to Fives and eyes the loth cat with interest. By now it has found the courage to wiggle it‘s cute head out of the shirt. It looks at every clone with sparkling eyes.

“No! You will only break it in half!“, Fives says protectively and turns away from Hardcase who pouts at his harsh words.

After a few stops caused by Jesse throwing up and Tup running against a pillar, they finally arrive at the vet clinic. The group of clones enters the building and frightens the nurse at first. She looks up from her book and widens her eyes.

“W-What can I help you with?“, (Y/n) asks and after she took a deep breath she gets a grip of herself.

Fives pushes past his brothers because he was the last one to enter the room and shows the pretty nurse the bundle. Her smile warms his heart and he feels even more drunk all of a sudden.

“I found it in an alley all alone. I think it‘s paw is broken“, the ARC trooper explains and lets (Y/n) take the loth cat from his hands. He can hear a silent meow as if the cat wanted to say goodbye to it‘s savior.

“Thank you“, the nurse nods at the clone. Her gaze wanders from his drunken smiling face to his brothers.

“I need someone of you with the vet to answer her questions. Someone sober enough“, (Y/n) adds with a sweet but apologising smile towards Fives. His shoulders drop and he lowers his gaze.

Rex tells Kix to follow the nurse because he is a medic and might be the best help the vet could get. Then the brothers are alone and while Hardcase, Jesse and Tup fight who gets to sit on the two chairs, the others lean against the wall and wait.

Half an hour later (Y/n) comes back with a blanket and a few water bottles. There is a faint smile on her lips as she sees three clones half asleep on two chairs. One of them is laying on the legs of the other two.

“Here“, the nurse hands the rest of them the water bottles and each of them thanks her. The moment she stops in front of Fives her smile widens.

“Kix told me to give you some water to sober up“, she says refering to the whole group but then her gaze wanders to the ARC trooper. “Especially you!“ (Y/n) hands Fives the last bottle. Their fingertips touch for a few seconds and the nurse can‘t believe how soft the soldiers skin is.

“Sorry but the cat kind of destroyed your shirt at the sight of an needle“, she admits and gives Fives the blanket. He thanks her and slowly throws the blanket over his board shoulders.

Before (Y/n) can return to her work and organise some new files, another nurse enters the waiting area filled with clones. She stops at the sight of the soldiers and stares at them with an annoyed expression.

Because (Y/n) already knows what is going on in her co-workers head, she jumps from her chair and takes the nurses hand to pull her away from the clones.

“What are they doing here? They are soldiers and nothing more!“, the nurse exclaims so loud that even the sleeping clones wake up. Rex and Fives look at (Y/n) to see if she needs help but she shakes her head.

“Why don‘t you go home? It‘s a quiet night and I will manage it without you“, (Y/n) explains and without another word the other nurse turns around and leaves for the locker room.

With a sigh (Y/n) returns to her desk and opens a file. Fives clears his throat the moment he stops in front of the counter and looks down on the tired nurse. She smiles weakly at him.

“Thank you“, the ARC trooper whispers. The blanket around his shoulders slips from time to time so that he has to hold the ends together in one of his hands.

“For what?“, the nurse asks with a frown. She puts her pencil aside and closes the file once again.

“For defending us clones by sending her away“, Fives explains and looks back at his brothers. Most of them have their eyes closed.

“Well, she is wrong if she thinks you are just soldiers. You are humans just like us and deserve the same rights“, (Y/n) says silent but nevertheless with a firm voice. The clone trooper looking at her has a smile on his lips because that is the first time a civilian told him that.

He is more than a soldier. He is a person.

“Thank you“, Fives repeats and nods at the nurse. Only then does the nurse see an injury above his right eye.

“What happened there?“, she asks Fives and points to her own right brow.

“He hit his head on the tabletop!“, Jesse screams and makes his brothers laugh. Even Tup and Hardcase laugh in their sleep.

“Then follow me“, (Y/n) states, stands up and walks along the corridor to an examination room. Fives follows her with a confused expression.

“Sit down“, the nurse tells him and turns around to get a medipack from the shelf. Then she walks in front of Fives and takes a disinfecting tissue in her hand.

“Wait! Are you sure you can do this? I‘m not a loth cat“, Fives asks with wide eyes and takes (Y/n)s wrist in one of his hands, stoping her from pressing the tissue against his brow.

But (Y/n) only shrugs and then moves the disinfecting tissue to his cut. The ARC trooper hisses but stays still, letting the nurse do her job.

While (Y/n) treats his wound, Fives has enough time to admire her beauty. He never saw someone as gorgeous as her. Not only is she a lovely sight but has a great heart too. The ARC trooper catches himself thinking about taking her out and then kissing her.

“And that‘s it“, (Y/n) says after she placed the last strip on his cut. Fives has to take a deep brath to remind himself that he only knows the nurse since an hour.

The clone watches her return everything to it‘s rightful place with sad eyes. Now he has to leave her without even knowing her name.

“What‘s your name?“, Fives asks almost immediately and stands up with a blurred sight. Maybe he should have drunk more water. (Y/n) stops in front of him and taps her name tag with a giggle.

“Let‘s go back to your brothers, Fives“, the female nurse states and grabs his upper arm to lead him out of the room and through the corridor. (Y/n) does this to support the drunken clone but also because she couldn‘t hold back anymore to touch his soft skin.

The only one left in the waiting area is Rex who is currently sitting on one of the chairs with his head in his hands.

“What happened, captain?“, Fives asks with a silly smile on his lips because he already knows that his brothers must have done something stupid. He can hear them laugh really hard from another room.

“See for yourselves!“, Rex says with a sigh and points to an open door. (Y/n)s eyes widen because that is were they keep the homeless and still injured animals.

Fives and the nurse run to the laughing clones. Most of them lay on the floor around a puffer pig. She already inflated her body and has wide eyes. It‘s a hilarious sight.

The ARC trooper has to laugh too and even (Y/n) can‘t stifle a laugh, but she helps the pig back in her cage.

“You frightened her!“, (Y/n) exclaims and puts her hands on her hips, trying to stay serious at the sight of the laughing clones. Fives leans against the doorframe, shaken by his laughs.

“She saw Hardcase first!“

“His ugly face scared her!“

(Y/n) lets her gaze wander to Fives who stops laughing just to smile at her. Now the nurse can‘t resist anymore and laughs too.

star wars taglist: @shadowfoxey @luvzoria @remmyswritings @periwinklehoney @maximumcoffeeme

[ac3id]

pairings: shigaraki tomura x female reader

warnings: nsfw, dubcon, captivity, yandere shiggs, mention of death, shiggs is a meanie, dumbification if ya squit.

a/n: im so glad someone requested this!! i will litereally never shut up about man also!! shigaraki is beefed up in this cus that man finna get permanent residency in my head

word count. 1557

Imagine: Shigaraki taking the small, cute little pathetic nurse of the hospital he hijacked as his darling. 

It takes some time for him to find you tolerable. At first, he absolutely loathes you; you’re always crying over the littlest things, always painting him to be the bad guy and you even refuse to give treatment to his men. And honestly, that pisses him off the most. You’re completely brainwashed by society. What do you mean you won’t help men like ‘him’? Are you that superior? You get to decide what’s right and what’s wrong? Are his men not humans? He hates you. If it weren’t for the situation he had faced himself in, he would have decayed you in the blink of an eye. But now after a failed mission and a lot of casualties on his side, he needed your quirk.  

When he kidnaps you, finally, it’s not because he loves you and wants to take care of you. No. It’s because he wants to torture you- literally. He’s so sick of your hot-headedness, so sick of your ideals- how you still think heroes will come to save you from those nefarious villains. Shigaraki wants to break you, show you how pathetic you really are. And so he does. 

One day he just gets so tired of your antics, you’re ignoring him- something you find yourself doing very often these days. You isolate yourself from him and everyone. You run to a storage room and hide, your knees pressed to your chest and head held down. You sniffle into your knees, you never wanted this happen. What did I do to this deserve this? When would the heroes come? You chanted to yourself. Deep down, you knew Shigaraki was right but you didn’t want to believe it. You didn’t want to believe that the world was so hollow and even if it was, you’d choose to ignore it. You’d live your life the way you want to and believe in that devil’s words. You’d- 

The door slams open, a big angry looking Shigaraki stands in the there, his eyes fuming with murderous intent. He rushes towards and wastes no time in clasping his big, sturdy hands around your petite neck and you pulling you up. He squeezes around it and choking noises fills the room, your hands automatically wrap around his trying to push him off but it’s all in vain. He’s too strong and you’re too dumb. You let out choked pleads, begging him to let you go and that you’ll help him. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you cause he needed you, you believed that he’d-

“If you’re thinking that I won’t kill you right this instant. You are wrong. I will take away your quirk for myself and leave you here to bite the dust. Don’t test me.”

He drops you to the floor, you rub your neck and try to collect yourself. He looks down at you, the way your tremble reminds him of a puppy who’s been kicked. He smiles to himself, he crouches down and grabs the collar of your shirt, pulling you closer to him. “I don’t like being mean to a pretty little thing like you,” he confesses and your eyebrows knit together. Why is he talking to you like this? 

“Use your dumb little head, okay? Listen to me.” His hold from your collar disappears and he stands back to his full height hovering over, you looked like an ant under and he looked like monster. You look up at him with tears pricking at the corners of your eyes- he’s the predator and you’re the prey. There’s no denying it. You were stupid for choosing not to submit to him before but now, you know he’s not the one to show mercy. He’s going to give you one chance you better not disappoint him. 

You started to obey him after he had threatened you, knowing full well he’d take your quirk and kill you the very next second. You did not want to challenge or anger him. It’s for my own survival, you tell yourself. You help his men, you sit, biting back your urge to hit Dabi as you tend to his wounds while he throws obscene remarks of what he’d do to a girl like you or how you have to stop your self from throwing up as you listen to Toga explain in detail about what she wants to this boy she’s crushing on. It’s hard work. Spinner and Mr. Compress were a little better but considering the fact that they come back to you after murdering innocents. It surely manages to you up at night.

It doesn’t take long for Shigaraki to develop a soft spot for you, he likes this new you. You are submissive, you listen to him. He finally managed to put you in your place. 

You did not think about those heroes anymore, did you? 

Ridiculously, he finds a friend in you, both of you start talking. You talk about your day with him he tells you about his, you drink together and as much as you shouldn’t; you find yourself enjoying your time with the league. 

You come to understand them and you forget that you’re being held, hostage. Call it Stockholm syndrome but you didn’t care. The newfound joy lasts but all things must end.

The calm before the storm: Shigaraki suddenly finds himself falling for you, your shy habits- how you’d twirl your hair when you got nervous or chewed on your lip while concentrating. How your cheeks stained pink in your intoxicated state. He noticed everything, he didn’t want to believe he was falling for but the way butterflies that danced around in his stomach when your finger grazed over his, how his mood turned better when you entered the room. The signs were obvious. He was in love 

He thought he’d tell you about his feelings for you before they left the hospital, all his men had recovered wonderfully courtesy to you. You’d flee with him and the both of you would be happy together forever a perfect ending for a new beginning. He confesses his love to you two days before his departure, he tells you how he wants to spend his life with you, how he thinks you’re the one but to his dismay. You don’t feel the same.

It breaks his heart into pieces, he can’t believe what he just heard. You’re kidding, right? You love him the way he loves you. Right? 

No? No. 

He’s pissed. Needless to say, even though you rejected his proposal, he still takes you along. He locks you in one of the many rooms of the PLF mansion. The only person you can see is him, he spends hours trying to make you understand why you needed him but you don’t budge. It’s like starting all over again. He is kind at the beginning but as days go by and his frustrations increase he just ends up using you like his fuckhole, bending you over whenever he wants and fucking your brains out. Shoving his cock down your throat, leaving you a quivering mess.

If you refuse or hesitate, he’d threaten you. He’ll take away your quirk and chop your legs and arms clean and leave you to rot. He’s done it before (you recall the incident with Overhaul). It leaves you no choice but to listen to him.  He wins all the time.

“Faster,” Shigaraki grunts. He has your wrists tied behind your back, his fingers tugging on your nipples, hard grinning at how your face confronts in pain. “Come on, whore. I know you can do better than this” he says staring at how your tiny cunt takes his huge cock. He was mesmerized, the way your walls wrapped around his girth. It was obviously too much for you, you could barely keep. The way your tongue lolled out of your mouth and eyes crosses, it was given. 

Unable to form responses you only whined in protest, hoping Shigaraki would take it easy on you but he just laughed. “What are you saying, my dumb little baby?” he asked in a condescending voice. It made you feel pathetic, he treated you like a pet who couldn’t for look after herself. It drove you mad that you couldn’t do anything about it, his hand snakes around your neck holding it firmly you stop moving on his dick. Keeping it settled warmly in your hole he pulls you down, his lips level with your ear. “Do it properly, my love,” you cringe internally at the nickname- a second ago he was calling you a whore. “If you don’t, I’ll take quirk,” your face pales, you couldn’t lose your quirk. It was all you had. “Please...Don’t do that. It’s all I have.” your voice cracks and tears roll to your cheeks, “It’s okay, baby. Just do it again. Be better this time,” he coos his hand patting your back as he restrains himself from thrusting into you, he lets you go and you start rocking your hips again trying to satisfy him, he grips your waist tightly; it would leave marks later. 

Shigaraki stares at you sleeping next to him, after a tiring session you were finally getting well deserved rest. You had obeyed him beautifully today, he wondered how long would it take before you realized that; it wasn’t your quirk which was all you had left. It was him.  

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[softlilacmoonlight]

Simeon x Reader - Promises

(Y/N) pov:

ACHOO! Ugh. I grab another Kleenex and once more blow my nose. I'm all congested, my throat is past the point of no return, I feel like I can barely breathe, and the cold is seeping into my very bones. I'm going to have to tell Lucifer that I can't make it to RAD. I'm barely able to stay awake.

"(Y/N)? Come one! You'll be late for breakfast and there'll be nothing left." exclaims Mammon as he barges into my room.

I try to talk, but it ends up in a coughing fit. "Mammon. Get. Lucifer." I whisper.

Mammon's eyes widen and he jets out of the room as fast as possible. I can barely hear his feet hitting the ground. In a matter of seconds, I faintly hear several feet and voices heading this way. Quietly, the door swings open and uncharacteristically, there is no noise.

Gently, an un-gloved hand touches my forehead. "She's terribly sick," states Lucifer softly. "Asmo. Get Solomon, we need his human knowledge."

After that, I drifted off to sleep. I just couldn't keep my eyes open. Everything feels heavy and sluggish. I just can't seem to function at all.

Third-person pov:

Once (Y/N) had fallen asleep, the brothers quickly got to work. They layered her in blankets, warmed up her room temperature, and Lucifer anxiously called a doctor. Partway through all of this, they were joined by Solomon.

Solomon, very carefully, began to assess your sick state. Much to his displeasure, he was of little help. "She needs that doctor. Now."

Thankfully the doctor came soon after to also examine you. Which is what resulted in you being rushed to the hospital and put on immediate breathing assistance with medicine. You were so tired that you had no way to register any of the changes in your location or state of health.

Simeon pov:

I wonder where (Y/N) is? I haven't seen her all day. Come to think of it, I haven't seen the brothers either or Solomon. It's weird. The bell just rang for lunch, and I'm so used to her presence.

Quickly I chide myself. That's unholy and greedy. She is an independent woman and my girlfriend. She can handle herself just fine... but I'm still worried. Sliding in next to me, Luke starts to eat his lunch.

"Luke." I inquire. "Have you by any chance seen (Y/N) today?"

He shakes his little head, part of a cupcake shoved into his mouth. "No. She hasn't been in any of our classes this morning."

"Hmmm."

Noticing my hum, Luke quickly looks towards me. "I'm certain she's fine Simeon. It's (Y/N) after all and while I hate to admit it, the brothers do take great care of her. Maybe something came up in the human world."

"I don't think so," I respond fastly. "Something's wrong. I can just feel it."

In Private Chat with Lucifer

Simeon: Lucifer sorry to bother you, but (Y/N) hasn't been in school all day. Is everything alright?

Lucifer: No. She's in the hospital. When Mammon went to wake her up this morning she was... in bad condition. We aren't sure about anything at this moment in time.

Simeon: I NEED TO BE THERE WITH MY GIRLFRIEND! Can you PLEASE get me out of class? Lucifer! I'm begging you!

Lucifer: I just sent a text to Lord Diavolo informing him of the situation. He says that you are dismissed.

Simeon has gone offline

Standing up, I sprint as fast as I can out of the lunchroom. I don't care that I left behind my backpack, and Luke can take well enough care of himself as far as I'm concerned. Or should I say that Barbatos can take good enough care of Luke? After all, he swiftly sat down with little Luke at the lunch table. Regardless, they'll be fine. Right now, my little lamb needs me.

I pick up speed, not even really looking where I'm going. I'm running into people, and the picked-up wind of the incoming storm nips at my heels. My coat/cloak (not sure what to call it. If you guys have any ideas hit me in the chat) starts to have a mind of its own and whips around and into my face, but I don't stop. Why? Because I can't. (Y/N), my precious (Y/N), needs me right now.

Coming up to the hospital, I can see Lucifer waiting for me outside of the doors. I try to rush past him, but he quickly grabs my arm. I try to yank it away in desperation, but he won't let go.

"Simeon." And suddenly, he pulls me into a hug. "Listen, Brother, for that is what you once were. Calm down, and breathe through your nose. If you rush in looking like that, everybody will be worried about you. (Y/N) will be especially worried-"

"Is she awake?" I question out of breath, cutting him off.

Lucifer pulls away from the hug and grips me by the shoulders. "No, she's still asleep, but you can sit by her bedside. I'll help you get the room to yourself."

Shakily, Lucifer guides me inside and sits me down on a chair to calm me down for a couple of seconds. "What is she sick with?"

"A human disease," answers Lucifer shaking his head. The little crease in his brows giving way to his ancient age. "The doctors called in pneumonia. It makes it hard for humans to breathe and makes them terribly cold. If they don't get treated then they die. (Y/N)'s going to have some very serious physical therapy for her lungs after this."

"T-T-Therapy?" I stutter.

He nods his head. "Yes. She'll have to have breathing aids like air tanks, a machine to pump air while they're asleep, and so forth. That way they won't run out of oxygen partway through the night."

After a couple more minutes of panic attacks and short-term terror, Lucifer gently pulls me up by my hands and leads me to the elevator. Once we're inside, he presses the button for the fourth floor. From there the elevator ascends upwards. The doors are opening painstakingly slow, but after what feels like a lifetime we are finally met with the hallway. Lucifer walks slightly ahead of me so he can lead me there when he suddenly stops outside of a door.

Grabbing him by the shoulder, I stop him from entering the room. "I want (Y/N) transferred to Purgatory Hall. It doesn't have to be permanent, but I want to take care of her as her boyfriend. I have that right Lucifer."

"I know," he whispers sadly. "I knew you'd say that, so I already got Lord Diavolo's permission. The others and I will move over some of her clothes and comfort items while you're here with her. That way when she wakes up she has something familiar."

"Thank you Lucifer." my gratitude shining through the words.

Upon entering the room, seven heads turn to look at us. Lucifer gently shoos his brothers and Solomon out of the room much to their protests and refusals. Eventually, they leave, but not before Mammon leaves one of his rings on the nightstand, Beel his necklace, Belphie carefully positioning his pillow under your head, Asmo left a picture of the two of you together, Satan left his book with instructions to read it to her, Levi left a little anime keychain from his phone case, Solomon left his casual star cape for an extra blanket, and Lucifer left his cuff pins. Their little momentos left me in tears. They really do care for my girlfriend, my little lamb.

Sitting in the chair next to (Y/N), I gently grasp your hand. Letting out a little whimper as I hold your small cool hand. I can't help but think about how much you always liked it when I would rub circles into your hand, but I can't do that now. As long as that IV is in your hand, I can't rub it or disturb that area.

Against all of my wishes, tears quickly start to fill my eyes. Before I can grab a tissue or stop it, the tears start to spill over and out of my eyes. Except I don't want to stop. It feels good to finally be able to cry, to let it all out. Hiccups puncture through my cries as I sob.

"S-Simeon." hoarsely whispers a quiet voice.

My head snaps up to meet (Y/N)'s beautiful (eye color) eyes. "(Y/N)! Shhh. Shhh, my little lamb. Save your voice."

"Simeon. I. Love. You," she mumbles.

I lean down and gently kiss her forehead. "I love you too. Please sleep. Everything will be alright. I've gotten you transferred to Purgatory Hall, that way I can take care of you. Alright?"

She nods her head and gently leans into my touch. "Simeon. I. Promise. You-" she starts to slip into a coughing fit, and I quickly grab some water.

"Shhh. It's alright dearest. I promise too. I promise to spend the rest of your life and the afterlife with you. I promise to protect you mentally, physically, and emotionally. I promise so many things my love, and I can only hope that I'll be able to properly fulfill each and every one of them." I don't think. I just say what my heart tells me because it's the truth.

(Y/N)'s pov:

I slowly start to drift off to sleep once more during Simeon's love proposal. "I. Like. That."

With that, I start to fully relax further, and the darkness starts to close in around my eyes. On the last available wisps of my hearing, I hear one last thing. "Sleep well, my love." And that I did.

[realm-sweet-realm]

The Friendly Long Horse

Long Horse is a character created by Trevor Henderson. Please support his works.

---

I was leaning against a fence, watching my wife’s two horses graze in the field. The brown one, Buttercup, trotted over to me for pats. I reached out to pet her, and her lips peeled back from her teeth. She bit down hard, and tugged off my hand. I pulled my arm away, screaming. My hand disappeared into her mouth. Her ear flicked, her eyes were calm. Like nothing was abnormal about this. Then, she put her head through the fence and bit my arm. Before I knew it, I was being pulled through the fence and into her mouth, bit by bit, until she’d consumed all of me.

I woke up.

A dream. Of course. If it weren’t a dream, I would have run away once she’d eaten my hand, and she wouldn’t have put her head through the barbed-wire fence, anyhow. Of course, that’s all pretty silly to mention considering that no horse, but especially not Buttercup, would casually eat a human alive.

In the early morning darkness, I noticed what looked like a horse skull, with no jaw and a few strands of black mane, peaking out from behind my door. I dismissed it as a trick of the light and went back to sleep.

The next morning, the horse skull was still there, staring at me.

Unsure what to do, I approached the door. The skull vanished the second I opened it, as though it was never there. It had moved, as though by teleportation, to peeking out at me from behind a corner before the staircase. That’s how it was all morning- the horse skull was always there, watching from behind something, disappearing whenever necessary. I value my privacy, so I tried pushing it out while I was in the shower, but it vanished right before I could touch it, appearing at the other side of the shower curtain.

It was with me on my way to work, peering from behind lamp posts as I drove. I turned on the radio. Turned it way up. This had to be a hallucination. An entire horse could not fit behind a lamp post. Not to mention everything else wrong with this. I sincerely hoped that I wasn’t losing my mind.

The thing is, this didn’t map onto any mental illness I knew of, and as a psychology PhD who has worked for years at an insane asylum, I would know. People who have hallucinations don’t know that they’re having hallucinations, and any psychotic disorder you could name comes with other symptoms, like slurred speech and delusions. Of course, the person is not always aware of these symptoms- my clients have often said that the first sign of an episode starting is that strangers treat them differently.

I did not want people to treat me differently, so I did not mention the horse skull to any sane human being. However, I did mention it to one of my clients that day, while administering an ink blot test.

“Do you see the horse skull?” I asked.

My client, a slack-jawed 28-year-old man who looked twice his age, squinted at the ink blot photo that I held in my hand.

“No. I mean the one over there.” I pointed to it. He looked over his shoulder and then back at me.

“No. Should I?” he asked.

“No. No, that’s a good sign,” I said. I felt as though the skull were mocking me.

Every night for the next three nights, I had nightmares of dying at the hooves of a horse. I’d been trampled. I’d ridden horses off of cliffs or into incoming traffic. I’d even had a horse drown me in his trough.

Each morning I would wake up to that damned skull, and I was able to sense her in a new way. On the first day, I became capable of smelling her- she smelled like cinnamon and rotting bone. The next, I became capable of hearing her make her little snorts and whinnies. On the next, a fog descended upon everything in my immediate environment, and I felt that it was a part of her.

I didn’t know what to do. To be frank, I didn’t tell anyone because I didn’t want to spend my evenings on the other side of the insane asylum walls. I didn’t think it would help, anyhow- I’d had time by now to thoroughly consult the DSM-V, and if I were crazy, it was a type of crazy that no one had bothered to study or cure yet.

On the fifth day I spent with that skull watching me, I came home in the evening to a message written across my bedroom wall in black:

Go ride Blackjack.

I went. I felt insane for obeying the message, but I went.

Blackjack is ostensibly my horse. My wife had thought Buttercup was lonely, and that it would be nice for us to ride horses together, and so she bought a black gelding that was big enough for me to ride. I found out pretty quickly, though, that riding is not at all my thing, and so Blackjack hasn’t been ridden in a couple years. She tells me that he’s perfectly happy just running around the pasture, and she’s the one that would know. She grew up on and inherited this farm- I’m just some city mouse that she met at college.

Once I got to the stable, the first obstacle presented itself: I didn’t know where his saddle was, and even if I did, I had no idea how to put it on. The horse skull peered me from behind a wooded post and patted Blackjack’s back with her chin.

“Bareback?” I asked.

She nodded in response.

I prayed that I wasn’t committing some sort of horse abuse, took Blackjack out, and got on him. He started galloping immediately. My heart nearly stopped. This was like too many of my nightmares.

Blackjack took me down a dirt road until we came to a wooded area. By then, the sun was setting, and combined with the fog that I’d become used to squinting through, it was making it difficult to see. We entered the wooded area. And there was what she meant to show me.

Approaching the corpse under the giant, rotted tree, I desperately hoped that it was just a big deer. As soon as those solid, round hooves came into view through the mist, though, I knew better. It was Buttercup, her ribs torn open. Her body was cold, and yet there were no tooth marks on her. She was perfectly preserved except for a surgical-looking slit on her belly, and the fact that her ribs looked to have been torn open and then put vaguely back into place.

My wife would be devastated, and what was more, I now had to face that I wasn’t crazy. Something supernatural was happening, and I didn’t know what.

The horse skull was floating next to me now- the first time I saw her and she wasn’t hidden from me. She tapped me on the shoulder and then floated over to a patch of dirt. Her mist parted, revealing a message constructed from Buttercup’s intestines.

LEAVE WHILE YOU STILL CAN

I got back onto Blackjack, who gave me a swift ride home. I said nothing of the event to anyone, even when my wife mentioned that Buttercup was missing and called the police over it. I did not sleep that night. It didn’t feel safe. I thought about waking her up and getting her to leave with me, but how would I explain to her that I wanted to leave home because a horse skull had led me to a message spelled out in Buttercup’s remains? Finally, I came up with an excuse.

“Sharol?” I said, shaking her awake. “We should leave. Whoever took Buttercup is probably still out there. We’d be safer somewhere else until the police can come and take a look at what happened.”

“Don’t be silly,” she said, still snuggled into bed. “We’ll be fine. Go back to sleep.”

I’d known it was a long shot. Still, I didn’t want to leave her. “Please. I feel like we might not be safe here.”

“It’s two in the morning,” was all she said.

I... left without her. I shouldn’t have. I was still in the mindset that this wasn’t quite real, I guess. I was going to leave for a motel, but the fog on the road was incredibly thick. I could see nothing but white all around me. The horse skull appeared in front of me on the road, and it seemed to be backing up at the same pace as I was going towards it. Finally, I got out of the car. The skull approached me, and a few feet of spine appeared behind it. It- no, she, I knew it was a she now, somehow- encircled me. I was expecting something awful to happen, but nothing did. The words, “It has arrived. Stay here if you want to live,” appeared to me in the mist.

Of course, I wanted to go back for Sharol. And I got into the car despite the horse’s protests, but I couldn’t find the turn-off to our house in all of the fog. 

“Get rid of it!” I yelled at the horse skull. “I know you can! Get rid of this fog so that I can go back to my wife!”

The horse skull did not respond. I ended up just spending the rest of the night in my car, with the horse skull curled up on my lap.

The fog dissipated a few hours later, and I took that as a cue that it was safe to go back home. It was not a pretty sight. A quick look in the barn made it seem as though all of the livestock had been turned inside out, and various equipment had been thrown about. There were no bloody footprints on the ground, and anyhow, it would have been nearly impossible to butcher and flay so many animals in only a few hours. The inside of the house looked as though a hurricane had hit it. I remember stepping over piles of broken glass and pottery in the kitchen. I went up to our bedroom, terrified, but Sharol’s corpse wasn’t there. Maybe she’d gotten away. I went to the garage to see, and... there it was. The mutilated corpse of a human, with a sledge hammer in her hands. Black goo covered one side of the sledge hammer like blood. She’d been trying to fight off whatever had been here.

The horse skull put its chin on my shoulder in a comforting gesture. I picked up the sledgehammer from her hands, shaking with the temptation to bash the creature’s skull in for not doing any of the things it could have done to save her. The damn skull could have told me what was coming. It could have given her a message. It could have given me a message that I could have shared with her without showing her Buttercup’s disembodied guts.

In my anger, I took a swing at her, and the skull fell to the ground, seemingly undamaged somehow. In an instant, I could see her entire spine- I guess because she was out cold and wasn’t able to hide it anymore. The spine went right out of the garage door, out the door to my house, and down the street for what seemed like half a mile. I saw a car drive over it, seemingly clipping through as though her spine didn’t even exist. Then, it started moving, picking up into the sky. And she left. Maybe she was mad at me for being ungrateful for her protection, or scared that I’d hurt her again, or she just had the understanding that her work here was done. But whatever her reasons, I never saw her again.

[captainstevenrogerswrites]

The Ice Prison Revolution

What happens when your right to be human and live is taken away from you? Your fight for pure survival can be bloody but its not a choice, someone has to get back your simple rights to live or what is there left ????

A Lucy x Curtis crossover.

@missusrogerswrites​

There's a tunnel....A tunnel?....yeah a fucking long one.

The color drained from Curtis' face as realization hit him hard, they were set up in the most vicious way. The tunnel meant within seconds this part of the train would be pitch black and only those night goggled killers would be able to see.....a clear disadvantage for Curtis and the tail crew. 

"EVERYBODY BACK" He yelled at the top of his voice towards his people, somehow he had to save as many as he could, he wouldn't let the other side win, he couldn't. As soon as his words left his mouth, there it was....pitch black engulfs them all like a blanket, but this was smothering blanket, a dangerous one, one that would get them all killed and yet he couldn't allow it.

They were blind and yet his hearing could hear better by the minute, the slashing of his people, that sound chilled his blood, he was powerless, he had to find a way through this, no more of his people needed to die here, it just wasn't fair when all they wanted was to be treated fairly. Just when he thought the slashing was the worst sound he picked up in the room, there was another that chilled his blood even more.....click.....click.....click....that bastard  was  counting how many of his people they were killing, they were making sure they was going to kill off exactly seventy-four percent of their people, just like that bitch had taunted them moments before.

The tunnel suddenly allowed light to flicker through the windows as the train travelled through the tunnel and yet the flickering held no refuge for them at all, if anything it half blinded them, unable to focus on fighting back for pure survival. This may have been a game for the other side, but for him and his people, this was a fight for survival and there was no other way out.

Suddenly he stayed still, the haunted silence almost deafening in that moment, was he in a trance or had the fighting stopped? His mind  desperately trying to find a way out of this situation, whether or not he understood the silence, he couldn't waste the precious few seconds to not come up with a plan. He had to save his people, there was no other way around it.  Memory of the boy grabbing the carboard sleeve of matches suddenly flooded his mind and hitting him like a thousand bullets, he knew exactly what they needed "CHEN, WE NEED FIRE!" His people repeating his words down to the rest of them, they needed the fire, the fire was their only hope of seeing where the fuck their bastards were so they at least had half a shot here. 

Fire soon spread across his people as their hand made torches alit. They could see, finally, their enemy stood in shock and Curtis and his people took full advantage, turning the axes and weapons on the people that wanted to slaughter them as if they were animals.  His own axe wielding through their enemy as if they were jelly and he didn't care, if he didn't kill them, they were going to kill his people.

He heard the scream, making him look towards the front, Madam Mason had been hit in the back of the leg by a knife. This was his chance, he had to get to her, he had to use her to get them to Wilfred and stop this once and for all. Her people seemed to pick up on his plan, he wondered what gave it away? Was his determination written all over his face or was it just something they would do if the shoe was on the other foot? Either way he didn't care nor did he had time to think on it.

He was suddenly given a choice as he stared back, hearing the scream from Edgar and the Madam he knew they needed as a hostage. His head flipped back and forth between the two. They were trying to carry her to safety and his best friend, his second in command was being held at knife point. He didn't want to make that choice, how could he? Screwing his eyes shut, he knew what he HAD to do compared to what he WANTED to do and in that moment, he turned and ran away from Edgar and towards the injured woman, trying not to stop or hear the scream of him as he did.

"STOP!"  STOP EVERYBODY!" "DROP YOUR WEAPONS!" "EVERYBODY STOP!" Both his words and Madam Mason's echoed around the carriage. His gun pressing into the side of her neck as he walked her through the carriage to make sure everyone stopped, especially on her side.  He saw Edgar's body and swallowed, he couldn't fall to pieces now, not while they  had the upper hand. They had to survive, no other way around this now, everyone was now secure, pushing the Madam over to some of his people to hold, his eyes fell upon Gilliam, watching him close Edgar's eyes.

Falling to his knees beside him, he couldn't forgive himself. He had let him die, he didn't deserve forgiveness and yet after Gilliam told the survivors to wash themselves in the water supply sanction ahead and they made their way into the showers, most of them not ever seeing one, Gilliam turned to him, Curtis removed his beanie hat and sighed as he prepared himself for the verbal onslaught and anger form the old man. 

Tears threatened to fall as he looked ahead at his people in the showers, they deserved such a simple thing like keeping clean but this was a luxury to them, how in God's name was that right? They were treated like vermin not people. Gilliam spoke to him suddenly in a gentle voice, making him look back from his people to the man he looked up to. A single tear managed to stream down his face as he heard his words, why wasn't he blaming him? He wasn't a good man, how could he be? Yet, Gilliam sat there telling him everything good was in him and he wasn't given a choice. 

Now, that his people were cleaned up, he sat staring at Madam Mason and her pathetic excuses to keep her alive, she wasn't that smart that hostages aren't as good dead but they played along with it. He called her bluff about calling him, of course Wilfred wouldn't care about her, she had lost her use for him, she was just another pawn to his control over them, a control that they were going to take back. Leaving her  with some of his people, he had grown tired of her whining lies and needed a break before he did actually rip her from limb to limb. They had come too far and the ones that had died would've died for nothing if they turned back, he knew that turning back wasn't an option but going forward.....he feared losing more people.

"Curtis they found his daughter, they have her hostage up ahead. We could really teach him a lesson by using his daughter..." Curtis's eyes shot up at the man "what?" At first he couldn't believe what he was hearing, as far as they heard, and it was rumor's at best, Lucy, his daughter rarely came out of the engine room, let alone out of his sight. His eyes widened a little "shit" he sprinted towards the next carriage, the water dripping from the showers falling on him and yet he didn't care. It didn't take him long to find them, three of his men straddled over the woman, holding her legs and arms as she struggled, they were taunting her, using themselves to over power her and in that moment, he feared what they were planning to do to her. 

He didn't stop until he reached them, yanking two of the men off her, they looked at him ready to fight and protest him " we are NOT animals" he snarled before turned and grabbing the third man's arm that was on her inner thigh "We are better than this" he heard them try and justify that she was his daughter and the enemy and they do far worse to them than that. "So then we are no better than them, we are not savage animals, we never were. We are fighting for our survival but we will NOT lose our humanity on the way. Now get back to the others and if anyone ever touches her again, they will have me to deal with. She's mine" He eyed them all, almost daring them to disobey him, but they backed down, even if begrudgery and left them alone. He was sure they would wonder if he would deal with her all on his own instead and he didn't allow them to think any different. He hated that some people easily lost their way for revenge, but in a way he understood why they put their anger on her and wanted to make sure she paid for their wrong doings.

When he was sure they were truly alone, he looked at her, his eyes trailing over her body, but not for reasons she probably thought. she was clean, the cleanest person he had seen for years, not that should've surprised him, Wilfred probably gave her the best of everything and why wouldn't he? He should hate her for that, but how was it her fault for his actions? Crouching down infront of her, he buttoned back up the top buttons of her shirt and leaned over to grab the  blanket behind her , wrapping it over her shoulders, seeing her react like he was going to probably assault her like the others wanted too but he didn't, it hadn't even been an option he would take. It was a disgusting and degrading thought and yet he had a good idea that's what she thought of him. Her voice was timid sounding , not at all what he imagined her to sound. All the others seemed to have this arrogant, authoritive tone in their voice but hers was soft, timid and sounded like that of an angel. Her question of why he saved her and wasn't attacking her struck him, oh of course, that's all they were, just mindless animals that raped and pillaged. 

Licking his lips, he shook his head and smiled but it was a sad one "Why wouldn't I save you and not rape you? Just because I don't have the luxury of being spotless doesn't mean the dirt makes me a heathen" He sighed, chewing his lip then sat fully down infront of her but gave her room "Look, I'm sorry for them, they have had their loved ones murdered and lost in their grief but that's no excuse, they wont touch you again, Ill make sure of it.... but you are coming with us. "

[banashee]

This is another one of my @badthingshappenbingo​ prompts.

Prompt: Chronic Pain

Please mind the tags and warnings in the authors note!

-

 (Pain)fully Human

 Being one of the very few Avengers without superpowers royally sucks sometimes. It really does, even though Clint is used to it.

 It's fine, he keeps telling himself, but he is no longer 20 and getting up in the mornings is a lot harder these days, and a lot more painful.

 Clint is in his late 40s, which isn’t even old, really, but it sure feels like it when you’ve been working hard for most of your life, tagging along with actual superhumans and rescuing a city and occasionally the world every few weeks. Not to mention the injuries - they can be real nasty, and when the weather gets cold, Clint can feel them in his bones. He doesn’t complain though, not really.

 He will complain about everything and anything else all day long if you’ll let him, because at heart, some part of him is a grumpy grandpa and has been ever since he was a teenager, but he rarely, if ever, voices any real distress. It’s easier to deflect because what is the alternative? Admitting defeat or the fact that his days in the field are definitely counted? No way.

 Clint can deal with a lot, but feeling useless - or worse, being useless - isn’t one of those things.

 This is why he forces himself to keep going even when every muscle in his body cramps and protests, and it’s why he forces himself out of bed despite being exhausted. Pain is part of the job, he learns early on, and there are quiet periods where he can heal and relax.

 When exactly the pain stops disappearing, he wouldn’t be able to tell.

 At first, it’s just smaller aches that linger, especially a bad back and a few old wounds. Over time, it gets worse - it is a creeping process.

 Some mornings, Clint can’t get out of bed without being in excruciating pain. He can barely stand, let alone walk. Those days, he can’t even make the short way from his bed to the bathroom without struggling. He clings to the bed frame with watering eyes, cursing up a blue storm and collapsing back onto it, gasping for breath.

 Clint remains sitting on the edge then, shaking like a leaf and breathing through the pain until it fades away just enough for him to be able to carefully get up, slowly making his way through the day. Some days are bad enough that he can’t even leave the house to do anything - the fatigue, the frustration and his mental health spiralling out of control are simply too much.

 He’s always had trouble with Depression and Anxiety, but the constant exhaustion and pain only make it worse.

 Clint doesn’t ask for help, not even when he spends days in bed, only getting up to go to the bathroom and drink a bit of water.

 As long as he had Lucky, those days were somewhat bearable. Clint would spend them cuddled up somewhere warm and soft with the deep, even breathing of his dog nearby, dozing on his chest while he could bury his hands in soft fur. It truly is Clint’s favourite way to seek comfort. Lucky always had a knack for reading his human’s mood. Especially on the bad days, he stays close, trying to help him in the sweet, loving way dogs do. Lucky is amazing in so many ways, and Clint just hopes he can repay his beloved companion enough.

 When Lucky first came to him, he was still kind of young, but now, he is much slower and calmer than before. His once entirely golden fur keeps growing greyer by the day, and their walks get shorter and shorter as time passes on. Instead, Lucky likes his sleep and getting belly rubs for as long as possible. Clint happily gives him all this, and much more.

 He owes this dog his life, and that is no exaggeration. If it wasn’t for Lucky, he probably would have given up on life years ago.

 But unfortunately, no dog lives forever and once his beloved companion is gone, Clint’s bad days get worse. They get worse in an emotional way, for sure, but he could swear that the pain itself doesn’t ease like it used to.

 His therapist strongly recommends getting another dog, because it is proven that emotional support animals can be very helpful, but he puts it off. Clint feels guilty, doesn’t want to replace Lucky, especially while he is still grieving. It feels wrong, but deep down he knows that his therapist is right.

 “You don’t have to replace Lucky. He was special to you and I understand that, but I also think it would be good for you to allow another dog - or cat, or whatever animal you’d prefer - in your life. It helps.” his therapist had told him for the 20th time, and finally gotten through to him.

 A few days later, Clint visits the local shelter and finds himself sitting on the floor, surrounded by dogs of all shapes and sizes. Part of him would like to adopt every single one of them, because honestly, who wouldn’t?

 But then, he falls in love with a black lab.

 This dog is keeping to herself, sitting calmly behind the other dogs as if waiting for a quieter time to greet the new human in the room. One leg is missing, and there are some grey hairs scattered across her sweet face and especially around the snout.

 “Hello sweetie, who are you?” Clint asks, carefully crouching down near the lab. She comes closer, curiously sniffing his outstretched hand, wagging her tail and then allowing him to pet her. Even more so, she practically melts into the gentle touch and Clint has already given his heart to this dog.

 His grief over Lucky is still there - always will be, to some degree - but this sweet, gentle soul seems to be the perfect companion for him now.

 “This is Betsy. She’s an old lady, as you can see, and she’s been with us for most of her life. She was not treated well in the past.” the staff member explains, and it’s clear that she wants the best for Betsy. The young woman smiles at Clint with a knowing smile as she watches him interact with Betsy.

 Clint is head over heels in love, and having to leave without this old lady dog almost breaks his heart all over again. Betsy seems to agree, because it very much looks like the love is mutual.

 Luckily, a few visits and a lot of paperwork later, Betsy comes home with Clint.

 He carries her up the stairs, and once they enter the apartment, the dog is met with an overwhelming urge to sniff and explore everything, and she happily does so for all of two minutes before she trots over to where Clint has collapsed on the couch - the pain is flaring up again, but he smiles at Betsy and pats the space on the couch next to him. A moment later, Clint finds himself with a lapful of very happy dog, and he just knows that this was the right decision.

 Betsy is incredibly loving, calm, and mostly happy when she has food and cuddles available at all times - both of which are plentiful here.

 The first night, Betsy sleeps right next to Clint, burrowing into him and the blankets. From what they told him in the shelter, this is the first time ever she gets to be in a bed - or a couch, earlier that day. She seems so happy and grateful about every little thing, and Clint just knows he would kill for her in a heartbeat.

 Their shared journey only has begun, but the bond is already strong. Both of them are in desperate need of company and love, and they definitely found both in each other.

 As time goes on, the bad days get more and more, and it takes one particularly bad day where Clint almost misses a shot in the field for him to come to a final decision.

 No one but him notices his mistake, but it sends cold dread down his spine.  After the debrief, when he finally makes it home, Clint has a full blown panic attack the second he closes the door behind him. He comes back to himself with Betsy pressing herself close to him, and he leans his cheek into her dark, smooth fur, stroking Betsy’s head in an attempt to calm down.

 The two of them are cuddled up on the couch, warm and secure, when Clint makes the decision. Today had been a close call - just a split second later, just a breath of air in the wrong direction, and people would have died. It can’t happen again - Clint is the best there is at his job, but it’s been too long. He’s in too much pain, getting too unreliable. It’s the last thing he needs, and damn it, the other Avengers deserve the truth. He owes them that much, not only for the obvious reasons, but because they are friends.

 Clint doesn’t talk to Steve. As much as he likes and respects him, the last thing he needs is Captain America trying to be kind and understanding when he himself doesn’t look a day over 30 and could casually weight lift a truck before breakfast.

 Instead, he seeks out Tony in the downstairs laboratory.

 Tony works just as always, chatting away to JARVIS and humming along to Black Sabbath - some things never change. Others do, however. Grey streaks are more and more visible in his dark hair and beard, and it might not be noticeable as much, but he moves more carefully than he uses to.

 If nothing else, Tony will understand, so this is why Clint tells him bluntly,

 “Hey. Just so you know - I’m retiring.”

 “Alright. How come?” the other man asks, letting his screwdriver roll across the table.

 “Getting all old and creaky.” Clint aims for a joke, but he gets a raised eyebrow in response.

 “Excuse you, you’re younger than me. If you’re old and creaky, what does that make me?”

 Clint shrugs.

 “Not the guy who almost missed a shot in the field.”

 There it is. Out in the open. A beat of silence passes between them.

 “What? When? I never even realized…” Tony looks at him directly now and he is no longer joking.

 “Last mission. It still went okay, but… It nearly didn’t. I can’t go out there in good conscience and risk people's lives because I can’t do my job right anymore.” Clint shrugs again, sad this time.

 “That wouldn’t be fair to either of you.”

 Tony just nods, letting the silence wash over them for a while. Neither of them is good at the whole talking thing and honestly, they’ve known each other for so many years, there is more than a little understanding between them.

 “Those mortal, squishy, human bodies have their disadvantages, huh?”

 A bark of laughter bubbles up his throat. It feels strange, but he definitely needed that.

 “They sure do. Honestly, fuck that.” Clint laughs some more, and Tony looks satisfied with himself. He totally got the reaction he wanted, and their conversation is a lot lighter after that.

 “Hey.” Tony says later, keeping Clint from walking away just yet.

 “Don’t be a stranger, okay? Us mere mortals gotta stick together.” He goes for a shoulder check, but Clint pulls him into a quick but tight hug. Tony returns it though, clinging on for just a second before he releases his friend with a shoulder slap and another few bad jokes.

 As far as conversations went, this one wasn’t half bad, Clint thinks, and makes his way back home.

 Betsy is waiting for him, and happily greets him as soon as he walks through the door.

 “Hey honey, I’m home.” he tells her, happily letting her lick his face and then they curl up in their favourite spot.

 Clint’s bones are aching and protesting from the movement of the day and old injuries are giving him trouble again. It’s getting cold out, and it only manifests what Clint already knew - he did the right thing.

*+~

Prompt 7/25: Chronic Pain

Warnings:

- breif, non-graphic mention of suicidal thoughts - off-screen death of a dog (due to old age, no cruelty!) - discussions of chronic pain and it's issues over the years - discussions of mental health, bad days

[the-shadow-of-atlantis]

My Friend Got Turned Into A Werewolf

Part 7 Learning

Tagging: @melyaliz @dilpickledd @coffee-randomness @speedypan

A/N Red belongs to @melyaliz

There were only so many times Red could read the werewolf book, he was starting to get antsy staying in here and not being able to do much. It didn't help that Aquata also tended to hole herself up in her room most of the time. Turning on the tv Red began flipping through the channels when he felt his phone buzz. Checking the name on the phone he couldn’t help but be puzzled when he answered.

“Seamom?”

“Is it bad I’m glad you still call me that after all this time.” Annabella chuckled lightly.

“Well honestly I’m not sure what to really call you.” Red said sheepishly.

“Seamom is fine.”

“Alright but um why exactly are you calling me?”

“Oh your mother and I have some food that’s on the way and also I wanted to see how you're doing.”

“I’m okay, well as okay as I can be. I don’t know I’m trying to do research and see how I’m progressing but I… I’m not sure what I’m doing. I've asked Aquata since she’s dealt with things like this before but.” Red paused not sure what exactly he should say.

“Aquata has a tendency to focus on something in order to distract herself. However sometimes she focuses a little too much on the wrong thing.” Annabella sighed. “I was hoping being with a friend again would help her. Just keep trying to ask her for help, as much as she holds herself up she can’t help but be there for her friends.”

Red wasn't really sure how to take the second part of what Annabella said. She had hoped Aquata being with a friend would help. What did that mean?

"Sorry." Annabella said, bringing Red back. "I just can't help but worry so be ready for lots of food being sent."

"And we'll be here ready to eat it all." Red said. "And don't worry I'll keep an eye out on her."

"Thanks Red." Annabella sighed. "And take care of yourself too."

"I will. Thanks seamom." Red heard one last small laugh before the phone disconnected.

Putting the phone away Red began to make his way up the stairs when his body became alert and he turned towards the door. Without thinking he ran straight towards it only to be knocked backwards before he even reached the door.

He groaned as he felt his back and neck ache. There was a rushing of footsteps and suddenly Aquata was standing over him.

"What happened?" She asked her eyes flicking from him to around the cabin as if trying to spot danger.

"I dunno." Red groaned as he tried to get up. "I just ran towards the door?"

Aquata looked at him puzzled then there was a squawk that came from the other side of the door. Red perked up and growled at the noise making Aquata turn to look at him and then suddenly she was laughing. She was trying to compose herself but everytime it seemed like she was done she'd burst into another fit of laughs.

"I'm glad my pain amuses you." Red pouted, but he had to admit hearing her laugh was making his day. When was the last time he even heard her laugh?

"Oh gods I'm sorry I'm sorry." Aquata snickered as she straightened up.

However instead of helping Red she walked towards the door.

"There's a reason the mailman doesn't come too far into town. However it's a little hard to banish animals, I guess mom underestimated your transformation. Tyler didn't however it seems he added more runes to protect the house from your outbursts." Aquata said as she opened the door.

An eagle with a little blue vest was standing on top of a box. It flapped its wings and squawked again.

"Hello Harold." Aquata said, kneeling down and unclipped the package from his vest.

Red had gotten up and stood behind Aquata glaring down at the bird.

"Say hello to mom for me." Aquata said, patting his head.

Harold squawked and flapped his wings as he turned and took off. Red looked at the bird and sighed.

"Please tell me this doesn't last forever."

"Nah, you'll get used to it after a while. However I will admit Tyler stole a frisbee or two when we went on dates at the park." Aquata snickered.

Red stared at her wondering if she was just teasing him, however there was something about how naturally she said it that it almost seemed true.

Closing the door Aquata turned to go to the kitchen. And Red followed her quickly.

"Wait were you joking about the mailman and the frisbee?" He asked wondering if he sounded as stupid as he thought.

"I wish. There's a little mail center that wolves have to go to pick up their mail. Their houses are marked as "do not approach". One too many mailmen got chased in the early years of this town being settled and those cars don't drive fast enough." Aquata explained as she opened the package and pulled out seamoms famous mac and cheese casserole.

Red mouth began to water despite having eaten not too long ago. A loud grumble came from Aquatas stomach making both of them jump.

"I guess it's time to eat." Aquata laughed nervously as she turned to get plates.

Red stared at her puzzled, glancing up at the clock he realized it was way past lunch time. Quickly he walked over to the fridge only to find the lunches he'd been making for the past two days were completely untouched. How hadn't he noticed that?

"You haven't been eating lunch?" He asked turning around to see Aquatas place a large portion on her plate.

Aquatas opened her mouth as if to protest but upon seeing the fridge she quickly closed it.

"I lost track of time." She said lamely.

"Twice?" Red accused, pointing at the two pieces of tupperware.

"...yes." Aquatas sighed. "I have a lot to catch up on."

"That doesn't mean you should go around skipping meals."

"One meal. And I'm fine. See I'll take this up to my room and eat it."

"Uh uh." Red said quickly, blocking her exit.

"I," he started taking the plate from Aquata. "Am going to heat this up. You are gonna get your stuff and come down. And you will eat, if you take too long between bites I'm spraying you with water."

"You do know water doesn't affect me." Aquatas said, crossing her arms. But Red didn't budge.

"Fine." Aquatas caved letting her shoulders drop. "I'll be right back."

"You have until the microwave beeps." Red said, stepping aside to let her pass.

Ten minutes later Aquatas had her books and notebooks sprawled across the coffee table and the couch she was occupying. Her laptop was perched on a small tv tray table that Red was wondering where she had gotten it from.

Red nestled himself on the recliner and had the tv on low, he was starting to notice his ears would hurt if the tv was on too high. Every time the show would cut to commercial he would turn to look at Aquata and waited till she took a bite. One of the times he glanced over she caught sight of one of the books she was reading and tilted his head curiously.

“I didn't know you were studying to be a doctor.” He said looking at the medical book.

“I’m not.” Aquata said as she took the last bite from her plate.

Red scanned over the books trying to make sense of the mess. “It sure looks like it.”

“It's… complicated.” Aquata said, rubbing her head. Red looked at her expectedly, she sighed as she set her laptop to the side.

“Growing up you suffered from headaches right.” Red nodded turning around in his seat to face Aquata properly. “On a normal person they would chalk it up to migraines or just headaches from stress. However you were different yours were because of your powers. Now how often would you go to Starlabs only for them to estimate how much medicine you should really take or tell you to just learn to adapt to your powers?”

“Pretty much every time.” Red said, realizing she was expecting a real answer.

“I was in a lot of sports growing up besides doing our missions and my sister did dance. Our injury count was a lot higher than normal. A kid gets injured playing a sport they get sent to a doctor who then probably sends them to a physical therapist if they need to recover and call it a day. My sister and I got hurt and we jumped between labs trying to figure out the best way to treat us. We’re generation three going on four and science hasn’t caught up to metahuman treatment. The classes I’m in, the course that I’m taking, has barely been active since I’ve started. It's basically a mass learning center trying to learn everything and anything regarding metahumans, aliens, atlanteans, and mixed species. How to apply human medical knowledge so that we can start making clinics and medical facilities to help treat everyone properly.”

Red nodded taking everything in. “And how does this not make you a doctor?”

Aquata smiled sheepishly. “I'm only learning enough to be a physical/massage therapist. I don't think I have the patience to become an actual doctor. Besides sport and hero injuries are something I can understand.”

“Wait you said this program has barely been around since you started?”

“Perks of having a rich grandfather is that he’s willing to drop a lot of money for a good cause.” Aquata said, smiling as she looked down.

“I'm sure if you were to talk to the professor he’d be willing to make a donation.” Red said suddenly not sure why he wanted to help in some way.

“Oh he has.” Aquata said looking up. “About a few months after we opened up he reached out and even offered some professors to help.”

“So that’s where McCoy has been sneaking off to. Oh man I owe Jackson money.”

“What did you think he was doing?” Aquata asked.

“We thought he had a secret girlfriend somewhere. Leave it to him to be such a nerd. What?” Red asked noticing the smile on Aquatas face.

“Oh I’m not saying anything.” Aquata said, grabbing her laptop.

“You know something.” Red accused.

“I plead the fifth.” Aquata said focusing on her laptop. “And don't even think about it.”

“Think about what?” Red said, trying to look innocent.

“Probing minds is rude.”

“What’s rude is you being able to know what I’m thinking and I can never get a read on you, and I’m the mind reader.” Red said exasperated.

“How do you do it?” Red asked so seriously it threw Aquata off. It was strange how much more serious he could get now. “Ever since I’ve known you your mind has always been so quiet. At first I thought maybe you’re just different, but I’m starting to get the feeling you're actively shutting me out.”

“You really shouldn’t take it so personally.” Aquata said, trying to smile reassuringly. “My family has had a bad track record when it comes to our minds. My dad got brain blasted by Miss Martian when he was working as a double agent, he needed to get his mind reconstructed from scratch. My mom was kidnapped by a stalker who put her under a spell that made her bend to his will. My dad had to go into her mind to help her break free of it. My grandfather started teaching us from a young age how to protect our minds, how to shield it, make it harder for anyone to try and break in. After what happened to Shaylee I worked harder to strengthen mine. It's better this way.”

Red was about to ask what she meant by that last part when her phone began to ring.

“Hey Tyler what’s up?” Aquata asked as she answered the phone. “Oh… okay I'll let him know. Thanks, bye.”

“What happened?” Red asked, he had tried to avoid over hearing what Tyler might’ve said.

“Your trial has been set for tomorrow.”

[theunderdogwrites]

2020: The Year I Lost My Ass

Well, we reached the end of that toilet roll only to start another one, because that is what we do for as long as we are allowed to continue revolutions around the sun – we keep going.

2020 was a terrible year for so many. My brain is incapable of processing the number of losses suffered on a global scale. Be it jobs, security, rights, sanity, relationships or life. My brain is not just incapable of these calculations, it has plain refused to entertain those thoughts on behalf of my heart. My heart, that sensitive little blood pumping work horse who not once allows itself to stop. Thank goodness.

I don’t believe the majority of people are willing and able to bring themselves to fully comprehend what was lost in 2020.

Here is a list of a few more losses suffered last year:

- People lost their shit. And over the most ridiculous things like toilet paper, having to wear a mask to secure toilet paper and being held to the consequences resulting from not wearing a mask when asked to while attempting to purchase toilet paper. Pause for a moment and let that last sentence hang around in your mind. 2020 made that happen. I didn’t make it up! Recently I saw a news piece showing a man (40’s) lying down on the floor in a Costco to protest being asked to wear a mask. He spoke loudly, he beat his hands at his sides and wildly kicked his legs when an employee asked him to get up. Now, I am not judging for I too have participated in such behaviour MANY times. Granted I was three, but hey… some of us mature faster than others.

 - People lost their damn minds. 2020 should be dubbed “The Year of The Karen”. For those of you not in the know about the Karen phenomenon, here is a description courtesy of Urban Dictionary:

 “Karen is a pejorative term used in the United States and other English-speaking countries for a woman perceived as entitled or demanding beyond the scope of what is appropriate or necessary. A common stereotype is that of a white woman who uses her privilege to demand her own way at the expense of others.’

 Basically, a Karen is a I WANT TO SPEAK TO YOUR MANAGER type person (There is a male equivalent, but it seems no one can agree on the name… Chad, Terry, Kyle, Kevin, Steve). You can often find a Karen on her cellphone calling the police to report a black man who lives in her neighborhood, simply living his life in her neighbourhood. I didn’t make that up either.

 More recently a Karen was videoed in a UPS store claiming that she didn’t have to wear a mask because that space was government property and not a private business. Would it be safe to say that most Karen types suffer from a lack of oxygen to their brain? Possibly. But that would involve science and Karen types DO NOT enjoy hard facts.

 As always when I download my thoughts into reality, I must go within and search myself. Am I a Karen? My immediate answer is: no fucking way. I can honestly say I’ve never once asked to see a manager or called the police to report someone eating their lunch on a park bench. I do not enjoy confrontation. Unless there is a bully involved. Then I will drag that person to hell with me. I much prefer discussion over going straight to the ‘I triple dog dare you!’ approach to the world. (If you got that reference, you are my new favourite) Because that is who a Karen really is… someone who jumps right to the most extreme action in order to satisfy their need to be superior. Truly, we should feel sorry for these people because instead of engaging they’re raging. And how awful must their insides feel… always full of anger, fear and self doubt. I say instead of judging these Karen types or putting them on blast on social media, we should hug the shit out of them. Just grab them and squeeze as hard as you fucking can until they stop talking. Peaceful solutions my friends, peaceful solutions.

 - Pets lost their faith in us. Children a close second. If you are a proud owner of a pet or a child, you know exactly what I’m talking about.

I’ve always operated under the notion that my cat loves it when I’m home and hates it when I leave. 2020 has taught me it might be the other way around. Because our animals are, well, animals we just believe our presence is the greatest gift in their lives. Remember when you were old enough to be left alone by your parents and once you had the taste of that kind of freedom, you just wanted more of it and couldn’t wait for them to go out? I feel it’s like that with our pets now. We might not think animals have a routine or preferences or enjoy some alone time, but we’d be wrong.

I think at first our pets were thrilled. If we are home more it means more time for prolonged petting, walks and the opportunity to ritualistically train us to respond to their caterwauls for more food and treats than normal. But then as the weeks of lockdown and working from home increased, so did our pets desire to kill us in our sleep.

 I’m pretty sure my cat has asked me several times using her feline glare: “why the fuck won’t you just leave?”. It would be naïve of us to assume we don’t disrupt their day with our constant noise making and snacking and scotch drinking that leads to a good buzz that leads to showing too much affection to our pets. To the point where they run and hide when they see us coming. Please tell me I didn’t describe just my own experience.

 There is such a thing as everything in moderation, we know this, so I think it can be applied here. People, get away from your pets. Give them the space you often desire from human beings. Because if you don’t, that random turd in your shoe could be pointing to a much larger, more alarming problem you’re about to encounter.

 I had the absolute blessing of being able to assist in caring for and raising of my three nephews (12,9,6) for the last 11 years. So, when I say: ‘children are always watching us’, I feel I know what I’m talking about. I’ve been mimicked so often by these young boys that I’ve had to pause due to mortification. Children will hold you accountable without even knowing it. I’ve had some behaviours of mine corrected by a 5-year-old and let me tell you, it stings like hell.

 As adults, when our world was thrown into turmoil because of Covid-19, we looked to our medical health professionals and our politicians for guidance. Basically, we searched for those who would lead us. The children – looked to us. And while many adults handled this responsibility the best they possibly could, many more failed miserably and displayed attitudes I can only describe as juvenile, damaging and pathetic. I suppose it doesn’t help if the people the adults are looking to for help are themselves - juvenile, damaging and pathetic.

 When I say we still have not grasped just how much has been lost over the past year, I’m hinting at integrity, compassion and creditability. Three vital qualities you’d hope people want to instill into their children. But if they themselves are unable to display such valuable traits, what does this say for the children who are looking up to them as an example on how to act when life gets challenging?

 For myself in 2020, I gained by losing.

When they locked our gyms down for four months last spring, I came close to being one of those people who lost their shit. While people were moaning about wearing a mask for 20 minutes in the grocery store, I was contemplating if murdering those people could be considered a cardio exercise and would that hold up in a court of law.

To reflect on that time period now (especially since our gyms are closed AGAIN at the moment) the loss of the gyms brought me the knowledge of how important the routine of going to and being in the gym is to my mental health. I won’t launch into how I feel about shopping malls being open and gyms being closed despite their proven benefit to one’s overall health because then I really will lose my shit.

People always say getting to the gym is the hardest part and once they’re there it’s easy to workout. And for many that is the truth, but for me it’s all a part of the workout. Getting to the gym is the psychological effort. Putting in the work at the gym is the physical. You can’t have one without the other. I became so pathetic that I’d often walk to the closed gym from my house, stare at the closed doors and then walk home. 1.5 hour round trip. True story.

Remember a few years back everyone became obsessed with that Netflix show ‘Tidying Up with Marie Kondo’? It is the show where that lovely woman from Japan showed us all how to declutter our homes by getting rid of anything that didn’t bring us joy. Those acid wash jeans from 1989… sit with them… hold them close to your chest… if they don’t make you happy, remove them from your space. Well, the same idea can be applied to people and ideas and even feelings. And 2020 was a great year for simplifying our lives. I’ve heard so many people talk about how they can’t wait to get back to ‘normal’… not me. I’ve already started my ‘new normal’.

The loss of drama has gained me peace and a better understanding of the importance of remaining true to who I am instead of trying to please others in hopes it wins me points. Because it doesn’t. Because its inauthentic and only brings you more loss and more drama. And anxiety. And sleepless nights. And an overall sense of hatred for everyone. 2020 gave me the option to no longer care about the things that don’t make me happy and to embrace the process of letting all that stupid bullshit fade away.

It was a year of gained focus.

It was a year of gained appreciation.

It was a year of gained gratitude.

It was a year of gained love for myself.

 I’m going to leave you now, but not before I share one of my favorite songs by the Tragically Hip:

In A World Possessed by The Human Mind

Just give me the news

It can all be lies

Exciting over fair or the right thing at the right time

Everything is clear

Just how you described

The way it appears, "A world possessed by the human mind"

 Then I think I smiled

Then I think you said, "it's fine"

And quietly I dressed, in a world completely possessed by the human mind

 We're in awe of no one

We've none of their fear

Fighting's goin' nowhere and we stay right here

Where everything is quiet

A little super dangerous

"In the shadow of the law and with colours of justice"

 Then I hope I smiled

Then I'm sure you said, "It's fine"

They got no interest in a world completely possessed by the human mind

 Everything is quiet

A little super dangerous

Quiet enough to hear God rustlin' around in the bushes

Oh, but it was you

Girl, I was so afraid

You said, "You shoulda seen the look on your face"

 Then I hope I laughed

Then I hope I said, "it's fine"

And quietly undressed in a world completely possessed by the human mind

 Oh it was you

Girl, I was so afraid

You said, "You shoulda seen the look on your face"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mgXphurrsE0

[gayce-ventura]

prompt: zed takes eliza to try vanilla, double vanilla and triple vanilla

Frozen Delight

AO3///FF.NET

———————–

“No, I’m not going.” Eliza said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Zed pursed his lips, rolling his eyes at her stubbornness. “C'mon Eliza! You’ll love it, trust me!”

Eliza huffed, still not budging. “Zed, why would I want to give my money to the humans? I would rather go support Zavier’s Caulibrains stand than that…that human yoghurt shop.”

“Eliza, stop being irrational and come with me to try this Froyo!” Zed exclaimed, taking Eliza’s arm and dragging her towards Seabrook. 

Eliza huffed, but allowed herself to be dragged away. She would never admit it, but she was curious about this ‘froyo.’ Zed had talked it up so much, telling her all about his favorite flavor, vanilla. 

She let her best friend drag her about half way before she tugged her arm out of his grasp. She straightened her outfit, and continued to follow Zed down the path. She could walk herself, thank you very much. 

Zed kept clamoring on about how good the flavors were, about how much she would love it. Eliza just rolled her eyes at his antics, he was basically a tall-ass child. He would be lost without her. 

As the two zombies crossed into Seabrook, the mood changed. People were staring at them, like they were diseased or something. It had only been a few weeks since the cheer championship, so zombies being out was odd to the humans. 

Zed took the attention like a champ, smiling at everyone as they passed by, but Eliza didn’t. The stares made her skin crawl, made her want to go home. She was all for the attention when she felt she deserved it, like for her protests, but she didn’t like this. It made her feel like an animal locked in a cage, like she was a pariah. 

As if he could feel her uneasiness, Zed grabbed Eliza’s hand and tugged her into his side. He threw his arm around her shoulder, and winked at her. Knowing she had her best friend by her side made her worry fade away. No matter how strong she was, she knew she could always fall back onto Zed. 

They finally got to the froyo shop, and Eliza noticed that the normal ‘no zombies allowed’ sign was missing. So the humans were changing, just slowly. The two friends walked into the store, and again received looks from the patrons. Zed paid them no mind, and grabbed a table next to the shop’s front windows.

“Eliza, you sit. I’m gonna go get our froyo.” He said, pulling out a seat for her.

Eliza frowned, but sat down. “Zed, you should let me choose my own flavor, and you know, pay.”

“Nonsense! I dragged you down here, I pay! Also, you don’t know these flavors like I do, I’m going to bring you the best ones! Just trust me, ok?” Zed asked, puppy dog eyes out in full force.

Eliza sighed and nodded her head. Her best friend was an idiot, but she had a hard time telling him no. She chuckled as he basically skipped his way to order, and she took that time to take in her surroundings. 

She could see zombies walking outside, laughing and mucking about. Humans were intermingling with them, hesitantly, but smiling. She was extremely happy that zombiekind were being accepted, no matter how slowly. She just wished it didn’t take her entire life to happen. 15 years of resentment and hatred thrown her way, and then suddenly a white haired girl comes around, and everything changes. 

She didn’t get a chance to muse any longer, as Zed came back and sat three froyos in front of her. Three, exactly the same, froyos. She frowned questioningly and glanced at Zed. He was already happily munching on his own froyo, which looked the exact same as the other three. He saw her glance, and smiled widely, motioning for her to try them.

“Zed…these are all the same…” She said hesitantly.

Zed scoffed, and sat his froyo down. “No, that one’s vanilla,” he motioned to the one on her left, “that one’s double vanilla,” motioning to the middle one, “and that one’s triple vanilla! They’re different!”

Eliza’s frown deepened. “Zed, they’re all vanilla. They’re all the same!”

“No, Eliza, just try them! You’ll see! They each get richer in their vanilla flavor! I personally like the double vanilla the best, rich, but not too rich.” He said, motioning to his own froyo.

Still skeptical, Eliza picked up the vanilla flavor, and scooped a spoonful into her mouth.She could have moaned in pure bliss, but she held it in. The vanilla was so good! She closed her eyes and savored the flavor. She had never tasted anything so good, she needed more.

When she opened her eyes, she saw Zed grinning ear to ear. His eyes said ‘I told you so’ but the words didn’t fall from his mouth. She glared at him and picked up the second one. If Zed was right about the first one, he had to be right about the others. She took a bite of the double vanilla, and was prepared to be amazed again, but the same pleasure didn’t hit her.

Don’t get her wrong, it was still very good, but it was the same as the original vanilla. She frowned slightly and picked up the third and last vanilla. She hoped this would have a richer taste, but she knew it was going to taste the same. 

Taking a scoopful, she found was correct in her assumptions. Zed had bought four of the same froyos, thinking that they were different. She looked at her best friend, and he looked at her eagerly.

“Ok, so which one is your favorite?” He asked excitedly.

Eliza grimaced, and glanced at the three froyos.. “Zed, I hate to tell you this, but they’re the exact same.”

Zed rolled his eyes. “No they’re not Eliza, we talked about this! It’s subtle, but they’re different!”

Eliza sighed and shook her head. She knew there was no arguing with him. “Sure, Zed. i liked the first one the best.”

“Oh! Good choice, good choice. That’s Addie’s favorite!” He said, going back to scarfing down his frozen vanilla treat. 

Eliza chuckled and grabbed the first froyo, not that it mattered, as, again, they were all the same. She was realizing just how far she would go to keep her best friend happy, even if that meant putting her opinions on the back burner, where it mattered. She was still going to rule the world one day.

[firebirdsdaughter]

Okay…

… I feel very bitter right now.

But I am going to be eternally frustrated by the fact that as far as I could tell, Aruto’s (and therefore Izu’s) definition of ‘heart’ was ‘happy making humans happy.’

Or… ‘Seeing that humans are ultimately good’?

Really, just… I define a heart as ‘feeling emotions.’ Feeling emotions is useless unless you know how to handle them, which Horobi didn’t, and no one seemed at all invested in teaching him how. Just made him feel worse and worse, pressured him about something that terrified him and pushed him over the edge, and then a human who really should have known better went and grabbed the fucking Ark Key??? Like. Horobi’s somehow completely at fault for Izu pestering him until he lashed out like any emotionally immature child or even animal would and then she doesn’t move out of the way even though she easily could have, but Aruto grabbing the psycho Key and going nutty is ‘totally understandable bc grief.’

For one thing, wtf would Horobi believe Izu’s nonsense, she’s programmed to love and obey Aruto, and she never develops anywhere past that. He knows she’d say anything to save her beloved master. She has no identity out of ‘exists to serve Aruto and occasionally be cutesy.’ Listen, Takahashi, you need to work on your female characters when you resurrect one w/ no memory and she’s exactly the same.

My lack of sympathy for Izu’s ‘death’ is bc it could easily have been prevented by multiple other people even if Horobi did literally nothing different, and bc literally nothing was lost. If any of the humans had actually used that compassion they sing to the skies about, you know, like, the fact that they have years of practice knowing how to feel and control emotions. I’m sorry but, ‘did you feel Izu’s pain?’ Well, first off, no, bc she didn’t seem pained at all, she just kinda stood there parroting Aruto’s bs, but… What about feeling Horobi’s pain? Or… Was Izu being ‘sad’ Horobi didn’t magically forgive humanity for everything they put him through and took from him more important than him having being mind raped, controlled, conditioned, and abused for twelve years? ‘I believe in your heart’ you mean you ‘believe’ he’s going to magically switch around and conform to your views that humans are ultimately good and anything bad they do can be excused bc they teach you about ‘hearts’? Meanwhile, none of her memories changed her at all. She gazes lovingly at Aruto, she participates in his jokes… There was pretty much nothing to her other than ‘loves Aruto.’ Her character fell into the trap of KR’s general attitude toward female characters that they exist to be pure angels who unfailingly believe in the hero and the series’ attitude toward AI, that the definition of ‘goodness’ for them is completely devotion to humans and unrealistic purity and benevolence.

The question should never have been ‘will AI have benevolence towards humans’ but ‘do humans deserve it?’ ‘what can we do to justify that?’ Why do HumaGear have to ‘prove their worth’ and ‘teach humans to be nice to them’ but humans don’t have to… Like… Know how to be decent? Aruto’s sympathies and dreams for HumaGear were exclusively rooted in how they benefitted humans. He expects the ‘hearts’ they develop to be completely ‘pure’ and ‘benevolent’ even if humanity has given them no reason to be so.

Horobi was the most aware of how horrible the Ark was. Everything he did, he did bc he was conditioned to believe it was right for HumaGear. Bc he saw the cruelty of humanity, and wanted to protect his people from it. He was conditioned/programmed to react w/ absolutes and extremes. He didn’t turn on the Ark bc he realised humans were actually ‘good’ he did it bc she turned on HumaGear, and he fought bc he loved HumaGear. His love for HumaGear, for Jin, was stronger than her control. That was it.

But he also knew that she was created by humans. Deliberately. It doesn’t matter that Gai had a personality one eighty bc the satellite printed him a dog and Aruto’s only for humans AI therapist talked to him for a hot minute. This shit doesn’t work like that, Gai should be at least facing jail time for his part in things. Yotacrappy’s response was to manipulated Jin into trying to kill him as a sacrifice, even after the Ark was out of the picture. Not a single person reacted w/ ‘maybe we should give this poor AI who has literally had his entire mind and life fucked over by humans and has no reason to like us a bit of kindness and support to help deal w/ the emotions he’s suddenly feeling.’ Izu’s speech was kinda close, but the tone was ultimately ‘she’s right and he’s wrong.’ The attitude shouldn’t be that ‘humans can sometimes be beneficial, so that makes the wrong they do okay.’ The fact that they tried to pretend that even the most twisted humans were ‘actually just misguided’ was ridiculous.

Horobi’s suffering was real and valid, and deserved recognition beyond ‘lol, but humans are actually nice, tho.’ He was scared and confused, but no one was trying to help him through that, they were just belittling the very valid reasons he had to be angry at humans. Rather than being like ‘I understand you’re angry and in pain and those are valid feelings, but there’s a better way to do this’ the response was either aggression or ‘no, you’re wrong, they teach us to want them to be happy and to dream or serving them well!’ (pretty much what Aruto’s definition of ‘good HumaGear’ seemed to be). And then even the people who should understand the most how her feels act like he’s spreading a ‘shocking’ and ‘bad’ thought by offering HumaGear a chance to stand up for themselves. I really hate how the protests were treated as Horobi spreading ‘malice’ to the HuamGear and all conveniently disappeared when Aruto ‘won.’

Again. The Frozen quote is eternally accurate for Aruto’s ‘dream.’ ‘It’ll be just like it was except for we’ll be best friends.’

Aruto’s dream was never equality or freedom for HumaGear. What he wanted was for them to go back to work for humans w/ smiles painted on their faces to make humans happy. HumaGear’s meaning in life shouldn’t be to ‘be useful to humans.’ I wasn’t expecting the ending to be ‘everything is okay now,’ but I was under the impression that there would be some kind of motion toward HumaGear getting some rights and protections or respect by virtue of being, like, living beings rather than needing to work and be ‘useful’ to justify their existence. Aruto is very face value, he thinks that the programmed personalities humans give HumaGear are their ‘true natures’ when they’re not, they’re just a starting point. They need to branch out. The fact that Izu’s entire life just revolved around benefiting Aruto made it hard to sympathise w/ her in place of the more interesting and dynamic characters. The fact that Aruto tries to claim HumaGear are his ‘employees’ when the definition of that word literally is ‘someone who works for a wage’ and people pay his company to get HumaGear to work for them and he delivers them to people in boxes… It’s just ridiculous. They shouldn’t have to just be ‘perfect pure forgiving little angels�� just bc humans made them and occasionally are nice to them? Izu’s data was just as biased as Horobi’s, they should have met in the middle rather than her being painted as ‘right’ and ‘good’ for only thinking of humans as good.

Yes, Horobi should have responded w/ violence, but literally no one even tried to put real effort into showing him other ways to react, or to help him through what happened to him. They either shouted at him, put him down, invalidated his suffering (admittedly bc she was just as out of balance maturity-wise as he was), or outright tried to kill him. Any child or animal will lash out when stressed or panicked. It is the responsibility of the people w/ more awareness to know what they’re dealing w/ and act accordingly. Izu knew he was armed, she saw the weapon pointed at her, she had plenty of time to move, and choose not to. That was not Horobi’s fault. It also wasn’t Horobi’s fault that humans decided to not give her a back up to benefit themselves. How was he even supposed to know that? Where was Aruto? Why was he running around outside trying to make the other HumaGear go back to his definition of ‘normal,’ while telling them there’s ‘no reason to fight anymore,’ which really should be their decision??? If he really cared and wanted to help Horobi and saw HumaGear as people, wouldn’t he have run in and tried to properly talk Horobi down? Then we have Yua’s hypocrisy of reacting aggressively to Horobi and them giving a speech to Yotacrappy for reacting the exact same way to the protests. And then Fuwa literally shooting down the one time Horobi genuinely tried to reach out… While kinda in character… Definitely did not help. Horobi was never in a place to parse out implications.

Basically, they pushed Horobi over the edge, then blamed him for being broken. Meanwhile, they have all sorts of ‘compassion’ and ‘understanding’ for Aruto and it’s ‘not his fault’ bc ‘grief.’ The attitude that Horobi’s suffering at the hands of the Ark was less important than Aruto’s trained AI letting herself get shot? The fact that Horobi, however horribly they influenced him to think he was completely at fault, was willing to ‘forgive’ humans for everything he suffered through bc of them… Is much more compassion than Aruto ever showed him.

Horobi had every right to be angry w/ humans and blame them for their part in what he went through. And humans never admitted responsibility for that, and never apologised to him.

But he’s supposed to need forgiveness from them?

[sope-and-shine]

Christmas Special: Day 25

-> BT21 X Reader(ft. OT7) -> BT21!AU -> Word Count: 5k -> Summary: Spending Christmas alone wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but Christmas with 7...somethings was not what you had in mind. -> Warning(s): Mild Language

A/N: Did not edit

After weeks on end of no rest and constant work, the boys are finally on their way home from their busy schedules. They’ll be able to go home and see their families this year, and it was a well deserved treat after everything they’ve done this year. So much work, and they’re about to reap they’re last reward.

Jimin yawns, stretching in his seat of the car next to Jin, “I am ready to get some sleep.” 

“Yoongi is 10 steps ahead of you.” Hoseok laughs, casting a side glance to the man next to him passed out against the glass.

Jeongguk sighs, “I’m just excited for all the food my mom is going to make.”

The car pulls up to their apartment and they all pile out, some trying to wake up from their nap, others thanking their driver for getting them home safely, and then walking up to their apartment for a good night's sleep. They’ve all had long days, so seeing their front door is like a dream come true to end their night. Taehyung, in a burst of energy, runs ahead of his brothers to throw the door open. 

“TaTa!” He cries, shoving his shoes off of his feet in a hurry and running down the hall to find his cuddly alien. The heart shaped creature pops his head out of the kitchen, a small smile appearing when he sees the very excited human. His small arms grow longer and start to wiggle in want as he waddles to give the tall boy a hug.

The others join the two in the hal, Namjoon being the last to close the door. Taehyung has his alien friend in his arms and their cheeks pressed together, “I have so much energy now that we’re home.”

“Are the others awake?” Hoseok asks. He takes a few steps towards Taehyung and TaTa before he spots Mang sitting peacefully on the couch on top of a sleeping Koya. He shrieks, “Mangie!”

RJ pops his head out of the kitchen just like TaTa had done, his bandana covered by Jin’s frilly pink apron.  On the top of his head, Shooky sits nestled in his fur enjoying how high up he his. However, when the small Cookie catches sight of the stone-faced man staring at him, he jumps and tries to flee.

“Hey! Don’t be an asshole, get back here!” Yoongi chases after his friend, quickly catching the small trouble maker in his hands before he gets too far. Lifting him up to face level, the angry cookie decides to let it be and hop on the man’s shoulder out of reluctance. Yoongi nods, “That’s what I thought.”

The others greet their friends as well, taking seats in the living room to watch the boxing match Cooky had turned on while they were gone. Namjoon’s moved Koya from his spot on the couch to rest on him instead, fixing his ears when they fall to the couch.

“Are you guys excited for Christmas next week?” Jimin asks, playing with the floppy ears on Chimmy’s hoodie while he not-so-quietly plays the harmonica on his lap .

Cooky pauses his play boxing with Jeongguk to raise a fist in excitement. He - just like the others who had given their response - were very ready to spend their holiday with the boys. After being away so long on tour, they were happy to finally spend time together again.

“I - for one - am overjoyed to have a break.” Yoongi sighs, moving Shooky from his head - where he’d climbed just to annoy the other - back to his chest, holding him there with a firm hand despite his protests to be let go.

“What are you guys going to do with your time?” Taehyung asks, popping his head over the top of TaTa’s larger one.

“My brother wants to go ice fishing, so I was thinking about going with him.” Jin says, taking a sip from the tea RJ had made.

“Why ice fishing?” Hoseok asks. He tilts his head at his older friend, and Mang - the loveable, copycat he is - does the same.

Jin shrugs, “No clue. But how bad could it be?”

“Cold? No one around? The possibility of no fish at all?” Yoongi lists off all the possible things that could be wrong with ice fishing, snorting when they all are indeed terrible, “You’re right, nothing terrible at all.”

“I’m going to take Tannie out to get new toys.” Taehyung says, changing the subject.

Hoseok nods in approval, adding in his own plans, “I was thinking of taking my mom and sister shopping.”

“My mom wants to go ice skating.” Namjoon adds. 

The boys continue talking, and sharing their holiday plans, but the friends around them begin to realize that they had not been mentioned in any of them. Chimmy - arguably the cutest - turns to Jimin - easily the most gullible member - and tilts his head in confusion.

“What’s wrong, ChimChim?” Jimin asks, pulling the little bean closer to him.

“They wish to know if they will be joining the festivities of the holiday as well.” VAN speaks up. The men in the room jump in surprise, Joon accidentally dropping one of Koya’s ears in the process. They all turn to the robot in the corner of the room, not exactly sure when it arrived. “Will they also be joining you on your vacations.”

“It’s best if all of you stay here in the house.” Namjoon sighs, he expected this. Part of him knew they’d want to join them as well, and he could understand why. But the outside world was no place for them. 

“The people outside won’t like you guys.” Jeongguk says. He didn’t mean it maliciously, or in anyway to hurt them. But it’s when he sees Chimmy and Mang frozen in horror that he realizes he should have phrased his words better.

Shooky makes a sound of displeasure from where he sits on Yoongi before sliding off of the man and storming off to another area of the house. Yoongi sits up to look after him, “Shooky!”

Chimmy and Mang follow after, running in zig-zags so they won’t be caught by their friends. Jimin sighs, “Chimmy! He didn’t mean it like that!”

“Mang!”

Soon, the rest of the little friends they shared an apartment with had toddled off after the others, even Koya after sliding off of Namjoon’s lap from his slumber and taking his ears with him. The men left in the room sigh together, turning to the youngest with looks of disappointment.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Jeongguk defends, shying away from the glares he’s getting. The other’s shake their heads in disappointment. They’d have to find some way to make it up to the little guys after the holiday was over.

----

Halfway across the world, in a small 1 bedroom apartment outside of the city, you sit on your balcony enjoying the chilly night air. Unlike most of your friends and the rest of your family, you were still stuck all by yourself for the holiday. You have work to do, people to please day in and day out. Unfortunately for you, there was no time for you to go home and see your family this year. Then again, it wasn’t like they really wanted to see you anyway. Your dad made sure to tell you that when he talked to you over the phone about you visiting.

He called to ask if you were coming to see them for the holiday, and when you told him that you wouldn’t be able to make it, he was furious. He treated you like you weren’t a grown adult paying for your own apartment and living on your own taking care of yourself. He seemed to always have something to say that just burst your bubble when you felt you were succeeding as an adult.

That’s what brought you out here to enjoy the peace and quiet of the night. 

“He just doesn’t get it…” You mutter to yourself. You look towards the sky where you can make out some of the stars if you squint hard enough. “What is his problem?”

Unbeknownst to you, you have a quiet listener above. Van, having been upset for their friends, had taken off to find someone also in need of friendship for the holiday. He’d searched far and wide, but none that truthfully needed someone. You were Van’s fifth distress call that he heard, so he came to see what you were in need of.

“I just want to show that I’m good enough…Why can’t he see that?” You ask to no one, not having any clue to your silent watcher. You wipe a stray tear and pull your knees to your chest. “He’s the reason I don’t even want to go home. I just want some love”

Love? Van knew where love was. His friends had plenty of love to give! His friends could help you easily.

Your phone rings, and your quick to compose yourself to answer it, “Hello?” 

“Hey, are you coming to spend Christmas with me?” Your friend asks, checking in on her offer from the other week. You had been talking to her about what was going on in your life and she was quick to offer you a place to go, but you didn’t want to make anyone else suffer with you.

“Ah...no...I have a lot of work to do…Maybe another time.” You offer.

She sighs, “Are you sure? I have the room!”

“No! I’m sure…” You assure her, wiping another tear that falls from her eye.

“Okay...Have a great holiday!” She cheers.

“You too.” You say halfheartedly, hanging up sometime after. You stare at your phone in sadness, “You wouldn’t want me around anyway.”

Van’s eyes flash a blue, sadness taking over his senses. He can feel your pain and the need for love. He has no doubt in his AI brain that you need love, and he knows just the people for the job.

He flies off, not seeing the way you slump over and let more tears fall from your eyes. 

---

After your crying session was finished, you had returned to your room to release the rest of your dignity in the safety of your sheets -Your neighbors probably enjoyed your crying too much anyways. But now, waking up to the morning light you feel refreshed and not as moody as when you fell asleep. You’re so relaxed, you almost don’t even notice the loud crash that comes from your kitchen.

Almost.

You sigh, annoyed that your cat - Mr. Whiskey - was probably in the kitchen looking for food and knocking over your pots and pans again. You throw off your blankets and leave your room to scold the animal in question, but you stop dead in your tracks when you see creatures you’d never seen before littering your apartment. In front of you is a dog(?) holding the vase your best friend gave you as a housewarming gift, where the vase sat sits what looks to be a cookie waving its arms around. Your coffee table has a koala sleeping on it, an alpaca with a bandana around its neck drinking a bottle of tea you had stocked in your fridge. Running around your coffee table is a blue and purple horse with a pink bunny chasing behind it. And standing next to your window, is a blue, yellow polka-dotted, heart head something trying to pick up the glass. You’re unsure of how to feel, but your body has no problem reacting for you as you drop to the ground.

The rowdy creatures making a mess in your living room stop what they’re doing, turning their attention to where you lay passed out on the floor. They stare at your limp body in confusion, wondering when you had woken up. You were asleep when they got there, but they must have woken you up.

Well, they can’t just leave you there.

A few hours later, you wake up to something wet on your right hand and a weight pressing down on you. Opening your eyes slowly, you make out what looks to be the koala snoring away on top of you. In between the both of you is a blanket you kept laying over the top of the couch for your movie nights, keeping you warm. 

“That wasn’t a dream…?” You ask yourself. You look to your right and see a small bowl of water placed beside you, your hand having been placed inside the bowl. You pull your hand out and sigh, thankful that the stuid trick hadn’t actually worked on you. You look around your living room and finally take notice of the creature you thought you’d dreamt alive, sitting around looking at you. You sit up fast.

“What the-Sorry.” In your haste to sit up and get a better look at the things before you, the koala on top of you fell off of you and onto the floor below. Feeling guilty for practically throwing the poor thing, you reach down to help him back up. But your thrown completely off guard when you see that his ears have fallen right off of his head. You scream, “Oh my god! What the hell is going on?!”

The blue, yellow, and red one looks to you and begins trying to explain what’s happening, but everything he says seems to be in another language that you have no knowledge of. It’s enough to spur even more shock out of you.

 You shake your head trying to gain some of your sanity back, “What are you saying? What are you guys?!”

Next to her, the Alpaca with the bandana begins walking to you with your phone in his hand. He has a sweet smile - he shouldn’t have a smile at all, but that’s not important at the moment - but the fact that he’s been using your phone is concerning.

“How did you get into my phone?!” You ask accusingly. First they break into your home, break your things, and now they’re using your phone?! You’re absolutely livid until the alpaca before you turns the phone off and grabs your hand to use the thumbprint. He gives you a smile before returning to what he was doing in the first place, and you’re suddenly left feeling sorry for yelling. 

“Oh…” Is all that you say. You wait and watch what he -or she - continues searching until they’ve found what they’re looking for. So, when he turns and shows you a video of them with a group of real people, you grow a little softer. You can’t help but wonder, ‘Are they lost?’ Korea is a long way to travel, and your knowledge of Korean is limited to the small phrases your college roommate had taught you.

“Would you understand me better in Korean?” You ask, iffy on your pronunciation. Thankfully, the dog shakes his head slowly, his floppy ears twisting around his head until they fall back to his side where they had started. You nod in understanding, but it does little to calm your nerves. “Why are you here? How did you all get here? Will you get off of that?!”

In the corner of your eye, you’d kept seeing the pink bunny moving around. But it was the last straw when he began hanging off of your potted plant by your balcony door like it was a swing. His ears droop and his happy grin turns into a disappointed pout as he hops down. The horse hops down from your loveseat and waddles over to the slightly open window to point out the window you keep open just enough for Mr. Whiskey.

You shake your head in disappointment. You knew this situation would come to light sooner or later, but this exact situation wasn’t what you were expecting, Either way, these...things couldn’t stay. “You all need to go home.”

Around the room, there seems to be an unspoken sadness that each one of them holds, enough to let you know that they aren’t lost at all. These poor little things left their friends because they wanted to...

“Why don’t you want to go home? They’re you’re friends, right?” You ask. It wasn’t as if they could answer your questions in depth, but it was worth a shot to gain an understanding.

The alpaca takes your phone again, asking for your thumbprint so he can get into it again. He types away, taking his time so he can do everything correctly. You’re surprised when your phone speaks the words he wants to say, “Friends don’t want us for Christmas.”

It was sad, but you knew how that felt to an extent. But if they were anything like you, it was them that didn’t want to be with friends for the holiday. You sugh, “I doubt that’s true.”

The small cookie that you thought you’d definitely dreamt up climbs up the alpaca and takes the phone right out of his hands. It’s almost unreal when he begins typing, and you’re even more shocked at what plays from your phone. “Friends abandoned us because they don’t like us and we’re not cool to be around and they’re embarrassed of us those apples. apples. apples. Apples.”

“Well, you need to go back whether you want to or not! They’re your friends, and they’re going to be worried about you. They love you…” You say, trying to explain the importance of them going home. Sure they may not feel welcome, but that doesn’t mean they should just...not...go.

Yeah, maybe you all were more alike than you thought.  

“My friends are looking for a friend to spend the holiday with.” A voice speaks up. You look up just in time to see another creature - half grey and white, round head, and ‘x’ and ‘o’ for eyes - smash the rest of your window and enter on its own. Being your second surprise of the day, you do the next logical thing.

You pass out again.

----

Back home - in Korea - the boys are waking up to begin parting ways. Jimin and Jeongguk were the first two to wake up as they needed to travel all the way to Busan for Christmas. All is the same, nothing unusual compared to what they’re used to. Then again...nothing unusual was completely unusual itself. Normally, Shooky or Kooky would be making a fuss in the kitchen by now with RJ making something to eat while ignoring them. 

“Have you seen Cookie?” Jeongguk asks, poking a hole in the banana milk he took from the fridge.

Jimin shakes his head, taking a bite out of the toast he made, “He wasn’t sleeping with you last night?”

“No, I thought he was upset with me.” The younger explains. He sighs, remembering how uset the bunny was yesterday. He hoped by now that he wouldn’t be upset anymore, but it looked like he was still not happy with him by any means.

Jimin shrugs, taking another bite of his breakfast, “Chimmy didn’t want to sleep with me either.”

“Don’t you want to say goodbye though?” Jeongguk asks.

“Yeah, but we can’t force them to talk to us if they’re unhappy.” Jimin stands up from his chair and puts his plate in the sink. Passing Jeongguk, he places a hand on his shoulder, “They’ll be fine in a few days. As soon as we get back from vacation.”

“Yeah, okay.”

----

After waking up for a third time, you’ve calmed down quite a bit. Now, the only thing you’re worried about is getting these rowdy creatures out of your home and back to their own. You sat on your couch scrolling through plane tickets trying to find the cheapest one possible to Korea. Van and the others had already tried to help you fly back the way they had flown to you, but you vetoed that idea before you got dropped.

Now, it was just a matter of time before you’d have to figure out how to get these boys back to their boys. The first step is the plane ticket, but the second step is finding where exactly these boys lived. Why you had to go made no sense at all, but these little nuisances wouldn’t let you out of it or they’d stay - how they threatened you using your phone. 

The whole notion was absurd to you, buying a plane ticket just to return 7 - or 8 - rowdy little creatures that you weren’t really sure were what you thought they were back to South Korea where they live with the most popular boy band in the world. They were only guarded by high end security, and they were only followed by millions of women everywhere. 

Not a problem at all.

Now, sitting in your seat next to RJ and Chimmy - who are dressed up in a trench coat pretending to be human - while the others are hidden in your carry ons or on the strange duo next to you, you try to relax while you wait to land. This was the craziest thing you’ve ever done, and there was no way this would actually work. There couldn’t be any possible way for this to work. 

But it had to.

-----

The door to the dorms slams shut, alerting the boys who didn’t have the chance to leave yet that Jimin had returned. He was already in Busan by the time Namjoon called him to tell him the news and he was pissed to know his plans had been changed for him.

“Well, ‘hello’ to you too.” Yoongi teases, getting comfortable in his seat before they would have to leave.

“Don’t talk to me right now.” Jimin glares at him, taking a seat on the couch opposite from him. 

Namjoon sighs, “Look, I know this is inconvenient bu-”

“Inconvenient? I only told my whole family I’d be home this year.” Hoseok laughs, slightly pissed himself.

“It’s just one performance.” Namjoon sighs.

“One performance that we have four days to prepare for and no heads up that we shouldn’t tell our families to expect us for the holiday.” Yoongi argues.

“Guys, please…” The leader begs.

Jeongguk sighs, “Namjoon, there is no way you are not upset about this.”

“I’m upset too, but what more can we do?” He asks.

“Fight! Yell! Argue!” Jimin says.

“Then why haven’t you?” Namjoon asks in retaliation. Jimin looks at him with the last bit of rage he has left before downcasting his eyes. “Exactly…”

“Have you guys seen TaTa?”  Taehyung asks, changing the subject.

Jin sighs, rubbing his face with his hands, “I haven’t seen any of them since Guk scared them off.”

----

“I swear to God, little horse man, come out of that bathroom right now!” You yell, banging on the bathroom door. You’d gotten off your plane about an hour ago and grabbed an uber, keeping the boys hidden. But as much as you wanted to get them home, you also wanted to sleep. Now, you were banging on the bathroom door of your hotel trying to get the little rascal to come out. “I have to pee!”

The others were doing their own things: The cookie, the bunny, and the alpaca watching TV on the floor, the heart dude was drawing on the notepads the hotel had, the koala was sleeping on the couch, and the dog was jumping up and down on your bed instead of his own that most of them would be sharing. You just wanted to pee, was that too much to ask? You wanted to spend Christmas in your own bed with no one else - Well, not really, but they didn’t know that - but no one seemed to get that. 

The bathroom door opens and the little horse comes waddling out with toilet paper on his foot, adjusting his apparent mask that you had no idea he had. 

Yeah, you just needed to pee and get some rest at this point.

----

Despite the inconvenience of having to go in and learn a new performance in time for Christmas, it was still a relief to be able to come home to their own beds. Despite the rough hours of rehearsal and the want to be with family again, it was nice to be with friends they could all consider family.

Only, they were missing pieces of their little family.

“When are they going to come back?” Taehyung asks, cuddling further into Jimin.

The older boy sighs deeply, “I don’t know.”

“I’m getting worried.” Hoseok admits, pausing his scrolling on his phone.

“What if they never come back?” Jeongguk asks, mindlessly playing with the pillow on his lap.

Namjoon sighs, “They will. We just have to be patient.”

“I just miss them so much.” Taehyung whines.

“Isn’t there a way to make this go faster?” Jin asks.

----

“Can we go any faster?” You ask the uber driver while your stuck in traffic. According to your GPS, the address the alpaca put in for you was only a few blocks away, but this traffic was putting you an hour behind. 

The man sighs, this being the 3rd time you’ve asked him, “Ma’am, I’m stuck in traffic.”

Your leg starts bouncing, becoming inpatient the longer you sit here. You’re too close to just be sitting here. You shake your head and grab the door handle, “We’ll get out here.” You and the boys exit the car and start your journey to the Hanam Hills Estate, trying your best to get there before the snow comes down. You push through even when Shooky and Koya crawl onto your back to sleep peacefully while the rest of you trek further and further. It’s only when you get to the security gate do you realize that is an impossible mission.

You stop before the box, already knowing this was a dead end, “How am I supposed to get in there?! There’s no way they’re going to let me in there when I’m not-” You pause your rant when you see the bunny bumping fists with the security guard, as well as the alien and the dog. He lets them pass and the others follow. So you, with the other two on your back, nod to the guard as you pass.

“I’m with them…” You nod, using the best Korean you can as you pass. You follow behind blindly, thanking yourself for wearing boots and not sneakers as you pass every unknown celebrity home with strange creatures that apparently know people well. And then you come to a tall building where the others have stopped, waiting for you to catch up.

“Is this really it?” You ask, staring ahead at the building above you. The boys push forward towards the door and you follow, climbing up two flights of stairs before you make it to another door. Your heart boy extends his limbs - another skill you didn’t know he had - and he rings the doorbell three times before returning to his form.

This was it. 

They were home. 

They didn’t need you anymore.

“Well, I got you boys back so I’ll just be going.” You say, ready to get out of there when the alien himself grabs onto you and holds you in place. You squirm in his hold, “Hey, let me go, you crazy alien!”

“Hello?” The door opens and your met with a tall man sporting shorts and a white, mario graphic tee. His confusion turns to happiness when he realizes just who is in front of him. He immediately runs to your alpaca friend, “You’re home!”

You hear other voices from behind him in the home. “They’re back?” 

“Chimmy!”

“Mang!”

The group that you had seen your boys with appears right in front of your eyes, each one smiling wide at the sight of their friends coming home. To think that they thought they were embarrassed by them. They looked like they were in love with them.

One of them looks directly at your little alien, and then looks to you attached to him. Him nod, “Hey.”

“This is (Y/n).” You scream at the sudden intrusion of the robot, holding on tight to the creature that just won’t let you go. You weren’t used to this. How could anyone get used to this? “She was lonely and needed our friends like they needed her.”

“Thank you for ratting me out to strangers.” You say, annoyed with the damn piece of technology. Looking to the men at the door looking back at you, you shrug, “So, maybe their presence wasn’t terrible, but I had to get them home where they belong...with you guys.”

The man in front of you smiles a boxy smile, throwing his arms open and pulling you into a hug similar to the one you’re already in. Only this one pulls you back and forth against your will.

“Taehyung, you’ll make her sick!” A voice calls.

“Hyung, you shouldn’t shake her that much.” Another scolds.

You sigh when the man stops shaking you, “Yeah, I should really get going anyways.”

“But you came all this way, you can’t just leave.” He argues. The alien around your neck nods and he laughs, “See? TaTa even wants you to stay.”

“TaTa? So, that’s your name, you little rascal.” You tease, shaking the creature attached to your hip. You smile, “It’s cute.”

TaTa smiles at you, only then deciding to slide off of you and join his friends who are already going inside to their home. The boys that they left, however, remain. The one that couldn’t keep his hands to himself smiles at you, “They really don’t want you to leave.”

You shake your head, “I don’t belong here, though.”

“Says who?” Another boy asks. He throws you a smile, and you see a peak of his dimples. “You should at least spend Christmas with someone.”

You don’t know what made you do it, the smiles, the pleas, or the rowdy little things at the door giving you puppy dog eyes, but you did it.

[itslmdee]

Fiction: The Imprisonment of Daniel Watkins

In a dystopian future Dan is arrested, not for committing a crime, but for a computer’s prediction that he might somehow cause deaths if left at liberty. mentions of selfharm/suicidal ideation

“Weekly visitation, Watkins.” The masked guard rapped the long stick against the bars.

Dan got to his feet and waited as the guard opened the door. He exited the cell, the guard following, the stick hovering behind his back the whole way there, another two guards armed with Tasers waiting near the end of the corridor.

As Dan approached the guards moved backwards, never letting him get too close. They made their way to the cubicle where a large TV screen was waiting for him. Dan sank into the plastic chair and the image of his wife appeared on the screen.

He longed to touch her, to see her in person even, but even face to face visits were forbidden. Sarah gave him a weak smile but he knew she’d been crying again.

“How are you?” he asked.

She nodded as if to reassure him. “I’m okay.” She was wearing a blouse with long sleeves and he had to take her word for it that she hadn’t reverted to self-harm. “You?”

“Still alive,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant but unable to hide the bitterness in his tone. This was existing, not living. “I haven’t heard from Bryan.” His lawyer was usually better at keeping him updated.

“I called him this morning,” Sarah said. “He’s still waiting to hear from the judge.”

Dan’s heart sank. The judge had demanded more evidence and who knew how long that would take.

“I put some more posts on social media,” Sarah said. “Most of them got taken down but a few were allowed to stay up and even the censored ones got some attention before they were deleted. There are people out there on your side, and Tamara’s video channel has gained another thousand followers. No luck with the TV news.”

The television news delighted in their preferred narrative. Daniel Watkins was a potential murderer, not an innocent victim in their broadcasts and his indefinite incarceration a matter of public good.

“What about that journalist, from the Galaxy Eye?” Sarah asked. “Did he write back to you?”

“Yes. Heavily redacted by the time it got to me. He’s interested but he needs to convince the paper to publish my side of the story. He’s been writing short pieces on his blog but his employers aren’t ready to challenge the mainstream story yet. I’ve asked him to send you hard copies of any further letters.”

Sarah nodded. “I love you,” she said, lip trembling. She placed her hand against the screen. Dan hovered his palm near hers.

They talked a little more but soon Dan was told to end the call. It was automatically cut off mid-goodbyes. He got to his feet and began to walk back to his cell. Rubber gloved cleaners moved to scrub the screen and the desk and the chair behind him.

Dan sat on his bunk, head in his hands. He’d been on his way home from the office when two police officers had dragged him off the street and into a cell. He’d been confused, asked for a lawyer, denied one. This was a matter of public protection and the normal rules did not apply.

He’d been allowed to phone Sarah after he said she’d be reporting him missing. She’d promised to get a lawyer but, as she later told him over a video call, they’d been prevented from contacting Dan during the first phase of his interrogation.

He was held for 48 hours initially, was forced to give blood and hand over his social media passwords. He was told an emergency extension had been applied. After 72 hours he was allowed to speak briefly to his lawyer, who was forced to sit across the room from him.

“It’s the new ICM software,” Bryan Fairfax said. “It’s been running models for a while now and making predictions. Enough of those predictions came true, according to police records, that they moved from using it to confirm perpetrators to catching them. We’ve been following the legal implications closely. But last week they moved further, to attempt to use it to prevent crimes. You got flagged as a potential murderer.”

Dan stared at him, mouth agape. “What?” he said at last. This was like that old movie with the ladies who sat in a bath predicting crime.

“It’s classified data but we’re filing motions to try and get access,” Bryan said. “We have no idea what they’re basing their assumptions on. They’re claiming everything from terrorism to domestic violence to spreading disease. They say you’re at risk of killing anywhere from one to one thousand people.”

“That’s ridiculous!”

Bryan nodded. “Because this is considered a matter of public protection most of your legal rights have been suspended. My firm is doing its best and I’m looking at every angle here. We’re pretty sure this is a test case to see how the public reacts before they fully roll it out, and we’re going to represent you pro bono here. Rollins senior was a great believer in personal freedoms and the firm is keen to be seen upholding civil liberties.”

It sounded like a wonderful opportunity for Rollins, Rollins, and Fairfax. It was less exciting for Dan, treated like a criminal though he’d done nothing wrong.

“I’m going to court in half an hour,” Bryan said. “I’m certain we won’t get bail though I’ll ask for it. You won’t be allowed to attend. They’re treating you as a high security risk.”

So Dan sat and waited. Bryan returned later that afternoon, standing across the room again.

“They’re keeping you for another two weeks,” he said. “I’m sorry. They’re asking for more data from the ICM. And they don’t want me seeing you again. Video calls only from here on out. I protested it was a violation of privacy but the government minister for health said it was, according to the model, too much of a risk to allow you too near any other person. The guards will be keeping their distance and you’ll only be allowed a half hour outside your cell when no other prisoners are in the yard, and to take a brief shower each morning after everyone else has used the facilities.”

Dan had been in solitary confinement ever since, meals pushed through a slot in his cell, his cell hosed down while he showered, only ever seeing masked guards delivering his food or escorting him to the showers or the yard. Two weeks had been extended to four, then six, then nine.

Sarah was frantic and Dan was terrified for her. She’d come a long way in the last few years, from anxious and suicidal to a self-confident woman who’d left her self-harming behind. He was proud of her and told her how it was her own strength and her renewed faith that had made the difference, though she gave him significant credit. She said he’d given her something to live for, someone who loved her and would never belittle or hurt her. He feared a return to her previous state of mind.

After the six week extension, with Bryan sadly certain that nine would again be extended without major new evidence, Dan was, for the first time in his life, feeling helpless enough to wonder if living was worth the pain. He truly sympathised now with Sarah’s despair.

If he killed himself however it would prove the model right; the media would spin it as him being a murderer, albeit of himself. He was getting desperate but he didn’t want ICM’s programmers and those funding the software to win.

“I’ve done nothing wrong,” Dan wrote on the old, tiny tablet he was allowed to use in his cell, the only entertainment he had, frowning at the cracked screen as he typed. “I am innocent yet presumed guilty. I have had my civil rights violated because of a computer programme that no-one outside of the ICM thinktank has been allowed to analyse. I am kept isolated from human contact for 23 hours a day, every day. I am not allowed to see my wife aside from on a computer screen. I am not allowed to talk to my lawyer except on a video call which is monitored by the prison and, I believe, the government and representatives of the ICM. My name is Daniel Watkins and I am not a murderer.”

He sent the message out via email to the newspapers, the TV stations, various bloggers and vloggers and anyone else who might listen. The email might get intercepted by the prison or redacted; he’d copied in Sarah and Bryan and vlogger Tamara Maina (who’d been outspoken in his defence, the first social media influencer to take his side) so they could confirm receipt. Even if it went out intact the message went against the media hysteria: “Mass Murderer Prevented”, “Murderer Jailed BEFORE He Could Kill”, “Innocents Saved by ICM software.”

His professional social media accounts had been frozen after the waves of hatred began, accusing him of murder and wishing him dead.

Dan had voted in every election since coming of age. He knew politicians lied and exaggerated and he knew there were some corrupt cops but he’d always had an overall trust in and respect for his government and the law, and had largely believed people were decent and kind at heart. No longer, not after this.

He lay on his bunk and stared at the stone walls, remembering a time he’d been allowed to lie next to Sarah and hold her hand, to kiss her cheek, and to suggest they shower together before a lazy breakfast and a walk by the river before getting Sunday lunch at their favourite pub. He would probably never get to do any of those things ever again.

ICM was the villain here, not Dan. No, ICM was a machine, and those who had programmed it were at fault. But they’d never face justice even if, somehow, Dan could be freed. ICM’s predecessor, the ICA, had wrongly predicted an outbreak of a disease spread by horses. Millions of beautiful animals had been slaughtered, whole stables razed to the ground by public health officials and a panicked public alike. When other scientists proved with their own models and a battery of tests, that the ICA had been utterly wrong, people had shrugged and said better safe than sorry and the ICA had supposedly been retired, only to reemerge as the ICM, based on the same faulty code.

Dan was collateral, like those poor horses, or a test case, as Bryan suggested, for a sinister move to punish people on mere suspicion of future misdeeds. Both. Neither. It was the same result. Dan was a prisoner and would remain so, possibly for the rest of his existence.

[ansgar-martinsson]

The Best Intentions - Part 8

Her body against his, her voice, her breath on his lips, her long, strong fingers in his hair, the press of her warm, warm, oh so warm and probably wetter than hell oh fuck center against his hard, hard, oh how fucking hard so hard it hurts cock, her words, oh Christ. Her words, her flesh, everything about her, everything Joline had wiped his mind clear away, sent his brain to that limbic, primal place, that place where every axon and dendrite of his frontal lobe was shut down in favour of those few centimeters of brain matter that controlled his animal, sexual self.

Those few centimeters that, although it had been well exercised, turned over on occasion over the past few years - casual encounter after casual encounter, fuck after fuck - it had not been as jumpstarted and shocked to life as it was in that moment for quite some time.

And oh, it felt so good. So good. So incredibly good.

And thus, it nearly killed Ansgar to shut it down, to push her away. He felt a part of himself, and not just his cock, but probably those very few centimeters of white brain matter themselves, shrivel up as he stiffened in her arms. With an annoyed growl, he wrenched his head away from her oral explorations. He clutched her hard by the arms and shoved her heat off of his, stepping purposefully out of her embrace.

Fucking hell fucking hell!!! Why? Why now? Fucking Joline Fucking Lindberg why do you have to do this?

“What?” she protested. “What is wrong with you?”

Ansgar took a long, steady breath through flared nostrils, as he peered, heavy-eyed down his long, regal nose at her. He let his arms fall to their sides and stood taller, his shoulders rigid, his head tipped slightly back. “I will give you one chance, Froken Lindberg….”

“Oh, it’s back to Froken Lindberg now, is it?”

He continued, ignoring her interjection. He lifted a finger instructively. “I will give you one chance to take that back.” Before she could speak again, he continued, raising his voice slightly, but still keeping his tone even, low… dangerous. “I told you I was very good at compartmentalizing,” he said. “Separating business from pleasure. I will tell you right now, Froken Lindberg, that I don’t brook threats or ultimatums in business, and I certainly do not in pleasure either.”

She stared at him, narrow-eyed, and furrow-browed.

“So,” he tipped his head slightly back and quirked a half-smile that did not reach his blazing eyes. “You will take that back.” He looked around the park before bending closer to her, his eyes hardening, the fire within alchemizing them from human sclera into layers of onyx over star sapphire over veined white marble. “You see, I can have any woman I want,” he growled. “Any.”

“Then go get one,” she responded, petulantly, her hands on her hips. Ansgar couldn’t help but notice the shake in her voice and the tremors in her hands… tremors to match the ones vibrating the flesh of his own clenched fists, those he was trying desperately to hide. Her discomfiture, her anger made itself known especially as she pointed to a woman jogging on the nearby path. “Go get her, Casa-fucking-nova. Get that one. Go on. Let me see you. Let me see how you work, lover boy.”

“I don’t want her,” Ansgar seethed, his words a sharp point. “But, as much as I want you, and you know I want you, I will not have you…. Will not,” he corrected, “give myself to you under threat, or under terms that I don’t agree to.”

She squinted at him. “How long as it been?”

“How long has what been?” He shook his head, confused.

“Since she did a runner on you? Your wife?”

Ansgar took a long, harsh breath through his nose. “Two years,” he clipped.

“Then… why do you keep wearing it?”

“I’ve my reasons,” he said.

“Which are?”

He said nothing, but simply stared at her, blinking, swallowing. The words on the edge of his tongue felt thick and heavy, stuck in place.

Because my investors have no idea what’s happened to me.

Because it reminds me of my failures. Because it reminds me that I do not want to fall in love again. Because it… because it gives me security. Because it reminds me of happier times in my life. Because it grounds me. Because it’s helped me move on. Because it’s kept me from doing away with my own life. Because it reminds me that someone, at some time, once… did love me, did truly love me for who I was… or so I’d thought.

“I can’t say.”

“You mean you won’t say,” she corrected.

“Semantics.”

“Fine.” She lifted her chin in defiance and shrugged. “No ring, no me.”

Ansgar stilled, allowing his mask - that old, familiar mask - settle into place. “Fine,” he echoed, at last. He dug into his jacket pocket and with thumb and forefinger fished out the keys to her motorbike. He dangled them in the space between them. “Hold out your hand,” he instructed, as if to a child.

She did as he said, her movements almost automatic.

He dropped the keys into her palm, holding his hand open for a moment before making a fist and bringing it slowly back down to his side. “Go to work, Froken Lindberg,” he droned. “It’s nearly eleven o’clock anyway, you shouldn’t be late, it’s unprofessional.” His expression shifted yet again, the mask taking on the visage of a small, businesslike smile. “I shall see you at nine tomorrow morning at the opera house, and then we have a meeting at ten to go over the preliminary plans for the gala. You should have those calendar entries in your inbox. I suggest you accept them before my assistant pesters you. She can be very persistent, you know.”

She swallowed. “Ansgar – “

“Go to work,” he repeated. “And make sure you’re there for our meetings tomorrow. You don’t want to be in breach of your contract. No, I don’t believe you do. You wouldn’t want me to pull our funding for the gala now, would you?” And with that said, he turned on his heel and strode back toward her bike to retrieve his helmet.

“Is that a threat, Martinsson?”

Ansgar stopped and turned. “No. Unlike you I don’t make threats,” he clipped. “As I said, I compartmentalize. Simply because this,” he gestured between them “doesn’t work out on a personal level, does not mean that we can’t do business together. As I also said, I expect you to take our business together seriously, and if you can’t do that, then we simply won’t do business together anymore. I am not and will not equate one with the other, am I clear?”

“Ansgar, I – “

“Am I clear?”

She nodded, and he did the same, his movements crisp and clear and short. “Very well then. I shall see you tomorrow.” He turned once again and stepped away, reaching her bike in a few long strides and lifting his helmet from the seat.

“Hey! How will you get back?” She called after him.

He hitched his helmet under his arm and continued toward the park’s entrance. He waved his phone in the air as he called over his shoulder. “I’ll walk!”

After a long night of frustration, her vibrator barely satisfying the ache Ansgar awakened in her with a kiss, Joline rolled into work the next morning early, coffee in hand. She didn’t go in early because he ordered it. Despite what he told her to, she actually needed the quiet before the crew reported to work to review some of the logs and plans.

When she arrived at work the day before, after her argument with Ansgar, she got swept up in other things, too many other things to sit with the design plans. She had a tourist group come through to take a tour of the building like they did every day at noon. Anna, Joline’s regular guide, called out with car trouble, so Jo filled in as tour guide. A monumental task it was, imparting facts and figures on the history of the building to a group of semi-interested tourists while her body felt strung out on hormones, arousal and utter frustration.

As the day progressed, her attention was needed on other tasks (booking a traveling musician whose producers couldn’t decide on terms of service to organizing a workshop for some of the grade schools interested in learning how a professional theatre was run), her own personal frustration grew. Without warning, a flash of Ansgar would flit through her mind. The whiskers of his goatee against her lips. The smell of his leathers. The sexy roughened tone of his voice when he said her name in desire. The expert control he held over his toned body. The stiff insistent press of his erection when he held her.

Inevitably, the crushing disappointment that he wouldn’t be the one to experience her next orgasm with her… it sucked! She hated that she wasn’t destined for his bed, that he couldn’t see clear to treat her as an equal… to leave his baggage aside so they could be free to enjoy the hell out of each other.

When she got home that night, she checked on her mother before going to bed without dinner to spend a few hours with her vibrator. To find some relief from an Ansgar-less orgasm… and yet her mind brought him into it with every climax, every clench, every spasm. His tongue, his need, his want to search her for other tastes and tats. Christ!

Hours before any of her backstage crew arrived, Joline alone unearthed a long rectangular rehearsal table from the back of the workshop and moved it out on stage. She spread out the maps and plans from the previous productions to compare to the current set up. Harold offered to help, of course, but without a body there wasn’t much he could do. She was still pouring over it when the first of her crew arrived.

“Jojo-bean,” Georg called from the back of the house. “You bend over again like that, those sprinklers are going to go off. The heat, woman!”

Jo had been bending to stretch across the table to grab the La Boheme plans when she heard his call. She laughed wiggling her arse in his direction, “Have I fired you yet this week?”

Georg, her brother Elias’ best friend from the age of seven, bounded down the aisle. Their relationship had always been less than formal since they too grew up together. “Twice! But don’t let that stop ya. The sound designers have a pool going. Do ya think you’ll make it to seven this week?”

“Give me reason,” she greeted him with a hug, waving to other members of the crew walking down the aisle to the stage.

“How’s mama?”

“Some days are better than others.”

“Whatcha doin’ here?” Georg gestured to the piles of papers, plans and logs.

“Some reps from Martinsson Construction are coming in today to start repairs. I got things out for them to refer to if they need it.”

Georg whistled, “How did you finally pull that off?”

Jo winked, gathering some of the papers she needed to go back to her office. “I can be very persuasive when given the right opportunity. Listen, I need you in here today,” she said lowering her voice. “I have a meeting with one of the executives about the gala and I need you to be my eyes and ears out here, yeah?”

“Of course. Who’d ya land the meeting with, Jojo-bean?”

“Ansgar Martinsson, so everyone needs to be on their best behavior.”

Georg whistled again to give due credit. ���CEO. You better go on home then… can’t have the likes of you here.”

Jo turned towards her office, wishing she could, run along home.

*~*~*~*~*~

Anger seethed through her veins as much as it did the day before when she mounted her bike in the park. Feeling every bit the jilted lover, she slammed the kickstand, revved the engine, applied the gas and took off like a rocket, gravel kicked up behind her. She’d spotted Herr Martinsson walking proudly down the main drive into the park. She toyed with the idea of running him over. Unfortunately she knew that she needed him: the gala, the repairs, the little theatre, the commission.

He’d tied her to him, and suddenly the partnership felt more like a sentence than the blessing that she originally thought it to be. Of course, she didn’t have throw herself at him.

When did a casual hookup become so complicated? Was it too much to ask that the man be completely into her before she hopped into bed with him? If in his mind, Herr Martinsson was still married, then to Joline, he was off limits. She wanted to fuck him, but that band on his finger represented that he should be fucking another. She couldn’t stomach it; she wanted someone without obligation to end her sexual frustration.

As she attempted to listen to her voicemails, she recalled what she felt as she sped along the motorway. Her body hummed with Ansgar’s kiss, his passion awakened a sexual appetite she’d never known before. Because of her distraction, she hadn’t heard any of her voicemails, her professional self slow to get to work.

She did, however, pull her shit together by the time the man himself entered her office at the appropriate time. “Herr Martinsson,” she said, rising from her computer chair with a quarter turn. “Thank you for coming.” She offered her hand to shake.

He clipped, “Froken Lindberg.” That was all she got with a stiff handshake.

“Please… do come in. I thought my office would be the best to review the details of the gala.” She tied her hair up in a messy ponytail at the top of her head, stepping around to desk. “I did bring some of the plans from previous productions, for your crew. My staff are in for your direction.”

“The preparation is appreciated,” he intoned flatly, his eyes never leaving her.

“I brought a laptop in for your use,” she waved to the device on her desk across from her that she’d loaded with the schedules. “It’s already signed into wifi. Can I get you anything before we get started? Coffee? Tea? Water? Juice?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” He shed his blazer, and hung it over the back of the computer chair that Jo pointed to for his use. He unbuttoned the cuffs of his white button down with a precision of discipline, and preceded to roll them up to the elbows one by one.

Jo didn’t crawl across her desk, but the thought occurred to her when she saw more skin of the man who had haunted her thoughts. She cleared her throat, plopping down into her chair, toying with her mouse to wake her desktop. “Please tell me where you’d like to begin.”

“New Years’ Eve.”

“What about New Years’ Eve?” she frowned.

“We are going to move the date of the Gala to New Years’ Eve. December 31 of this year. We would sell more tickets, that’s certain. Raise more funds.” He fished into his briefcase and fetched out a MacBook Pro. He crossed to the table beside the window, cleared off an area, and set the computer down, opening it with a flourish. “Let’s start with the scheduling, shall we? I’ve taken your calendars….”

She blinked, slightly shell-shocked. “How did you get my….?”

He interrupted, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’ve taken your calendars and modified them slightly. They were excellent the way they were, but we needed some additions with the new date. I set the list of priorities, and provided you with a delegation system for both your employees and mine, as well as a number of outside vendors from my approved list. The work will proceed as planned on the repairs, those should be done within the month. If we follow this course, we will be ready to go by December 30. I’ve already set my event staff on some of these… ah… tasks.”

He cringed inwardly at the small slip in his decorum, but he couldn’t help it. And here it had been so good so far. Even the removal of his jacket had been pain-free. But, as he twisted his torso, the battered muscles around his ribs caught, tightened, and screamed in protest. He rubbed at them, all the while skilfully keeping the mask of businesslike ennui on his face.

For the most part…

She noticed. Of course she’d notice.

She frowned. “You get mugged on your little walk home, or something?”

He rolled his eyes and peered side-eyed at her. “No,” he rest on the edge of the table, crossing his arms protectively over his chest. Yet, he kept his back straight, his shoulders square - damned if he would let her see his pain. “I went to the gym. It’s near the observatory. After that, my driver took me back to Sturekatten where I picked up my Tesla.”

“Oh. Your driver,” she teased.

“Yes,” he replied. “My driver.”

She swiveled her chair. “Wow. You have your very own driver,” she mocked. “I guess I never pegged you for the spoilt executive type, Mister Rockefeller.”

Ansgar gave her a wilting look. “It’s for risk management purposes,” he said. “Liability, safety, and all that. Prevention of exposure to the company should there be an accident involving the CEO. But yes, it can be quite… convenient at times. But you mustn’t concern yourself with that.” He gave her a throwaway gesture, and the movement made his side flare once again. He winced slightly, and sucked a small amount of air in through his teeth.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” he lied. “Nothing is wrong with me.”

“Obviously there is something wrong with you. You’re hissing like an angry cat.” She stood and stepped around her desk to stand before him. Like him, she rested her arse on the edge and crossed her legs beneath her.

“I am not hissing,” he protested.

“Yeah, you are,” she nodded, her eyebrows raised. “What exactly were you doing at the gym?”

“Ring fighting,” he clipped. He dropped his hands and rest them on the edge of the table, relieving some of the pressure on his torso. “Muay Thai, if you must know.”

“Against someone else?”

“Yes. Of course I fought against someone else. How else would you do it?”

“Apparently that someone else was better than you.” she teased.

“No,” he snarled. “He was not better than me.”

“Well, if that’s the case, then… what happened?”

“Nothing happened.” He spoke through clenched teeth and a plastered smile, his eyes flaring with sardonic annoyance.

“You got knocked on your arse, didn’t you?” She quirked a satisfied grin as she reached up and adjusted her ponytail. “Yeah, I’ll bet you did.”

Damn her.

He sighed and fixed her with a long, minatory glare.

Yes, I did. All right? I took a thrusting front kick square in the ribs. I didn’t block. I didn’t dodge. I went down howling, okay? My body is streaked black and blue like a Picasso painting and it still hurts like a mother fuck.

Why?

Because I let my guard down. Because my cock was pounding like a freight train in my shorts. Because I kept imagining you riding on it, your flesh around it. Because my lips still throbbed from your lips. Because I fought like a mindless berserker with trying to forget you. Because I’m a stubborn bastard. Because I’m a fucking idiot…

… Because I want you and I can’t get you off my God damn mind, Joline!

Are you happy now?

“Is this conversation absolutely necessary? No, I don’t believe it is.” He rose from the table and pointed at the computer. “We’ve some very tight deadlines to meet if we’re to make this gala the success you want it to be.”

Joline ignored his diversionary distraction, the opportunity to bust his balls about having his ass handed to him too rich. It was too good, and in her estimation warranted. “So this gym… I’m assuming that you pay them, yes?”

Ansgar almost… pouted when he hadn’t sidetracked her. She couldn’t know that he went to blow off steam because of her. “My trainer is paid very well for his services, if you must know.”

She nodded, tucking her lips between her teeth to hide her glee. She pushed off the table and damn-near skipped back to her desk. She’d tried to keep it professional but he presented it, laid it at her feet and she couldn’t resist. “Could’ve saved yourself some money, I would’ve done it myself for free. I mean… I already had a head start.”

Clearly, he didn’t approve. He scowled and stared her down into her chair behind her desk. “I trust and pay the professionals.” His emphasis abundantly clear.

Her glee instantly turned to hatred. This was her sentence. She’d signed the papers to work with him, and she’d stepped in the shit when she tried to seduce him. Doomed. And yet, she still found him so fucking sexy, and she hated herself for it. She still craved him, drawn to him, could barely resist him.

Her office walls closed in on her, an oppressive atmosphere with his massive presence in the room. Her office was in the oldest part of the building, near the little theatre. It had once been a detention center for criminals awaiting trial in the 1880s before it was converted into a public space for assemblies before opening as a theatre in 1898. It was more a prison, her own personal hell.

He’d picked at the one wound that hurt the most, which stung her deeply, out of all the things he’d said. He implied more than once that she was less than professional, and yet he’d invited it. He’d demanded it of her to use against her when he was pissed off.

“Fine, Herr Martinsson,” she slammed her finger on the mouse, startling her computer from its screensaver. She turned her attention to the altered plans for the gala and her stolen and retooled schedules. All that had been her baby, her celebration for the new season. Again, she felt like she’d failed. “May I call you a pig-headed terrorist?”

“No, you may not.” He got to her and he knew he had.

“Please explain how a soiree for the season opener, in other words, the gala, has been moved four months into the season,” Jo sat erect in her chair, ready to argue her point. “It’s meant to encourage season ticket holders to pledge more money and become sponsors.”

Ansgar didn’t let his oversight trip him up or Jo’s withering look put him off. “We’ll plan something better for the opening… a black tie and gown event. But the gala on New Year’s Eve makes more sense for filtering funds to the little theatre, that’s when we’ll need more money coming in.” He sent her a skype message to show her the budgetary needs for the renovations. “Take a look.” He nodded at her screen.

Jo pulled and tugged at her hair sticking out the top of her head. A pineapple, she thought to herself, I must look like a pineapple with all the sticking out branches. Through her silly bout with self-consciousness, she accepted the message and reviewed the spreadsheet from Ansgar G Martinsson. She sighed in concession, “Very well. But you just gave me a mountainous amount of work to do to get this new event planned in less than four weeks.”

He was about to remind her that he was there to help, that he’d lend a hand and his people. Just as he opened his mouth to do so—

CCCRRRAAACCCKKK!!!

A massive sharp sound ripped through her office from above.

Then a thunder crash boomed.

Ansgar shot to his feet, staring at the ceiling, “What the fuck—?”

Jo plowed through the door to her office, banging the door against the corridor. She starred at the ceiling too, training her ears to listen.

What sounded like bugs running along the steel piping trickled from above. It rolled over her head towards the little theatre at the end of the corridor.

Ansgar stood behind her, his face too turned to the ceiling. “What the hell is that?”

“You tell me, Mister Engineer,” she griped, following the sound.

He let her have that one. He’d made her feel like shit about her job twice already. He gave her that one.

At first her steps were slow, but as she got further down the sculpted marble hallway, she jogged until she full out ran. The sound got louder the further along, when the rain came. The sprinkler in the hall clicked on and water sprayed from above.

“SHIT!!!!!” Jo flung the double doors to the little theatre open. What she found, chaos, complete and total destruction. A large pipe dangled from the ceiling, a distressed break at least a foot long dumped gallons of water into the seats. Water ran down all sides as she peered in. “FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!”

Fast on his feet, Ansgar dialed emergency responders, barking orders and directions in Swedish.

Jo screamed over him, “I know where the valve shut off is!”

“JOLINE, NO!!!!”

But it was too late, she sprinted down the aisle, splooshing water as she went.

“There are unions for that!!!”

Jo couldn’t listen. She had to stop that destruction. She couldn’t wait; there was no time for that. She catapulted onto the stage, taking a flying leap from the arm of a chair in the audience, springing forward. She landed on her feet and didn’t lose a beat in navigating her way through the backstage to the valve to shut off the water.

The large shut off valve measured about a foot wide and Jo dove at it, throwing her entire body weight into shutting it off. She strained and struggled, the thing barely moving with all the effort she put into it. “DAMN YOU!!!” she panted. “MOVE!”

The thing didn’t budge after one squeak to the right, she almost felt like crying, something she didn’t do. Then she felt him, Ansgar had followed her. He lined his body with hers, his arms cocooning her body, his hands framing hers on the wheel. Together they managed to get the damned thing to rotate and the seemingly endless waterfalls finally stopped.

The echo of the destruction froze them in place, running water gushing off the stage. Jo couldn’t move, afraid to look, petrified to see. And yet, Ansgar was there, pressed against her back, just standing with her, drenched to the skin as she was.

As the events of the last few minutes settled over her, she turned to him. She didn’t say anything, couldn’t say anything, but pulled him into a fervent kiss of gratitude, of longing, of attraction.

Because he had been there for her when she needed it most.

[mymyfangirlsidedontlie]

The Reaper (short version)

     TW: Death, mentions of abuse, suicidal thoughts, depression, dissociation, murder, homelessness, gun use

     The legends of those who control death are as old as the very foundations of human society. Stories of those in black reaping the souls of the living, whether in punishment or out of kindness depending on the teller. There has always been a controller of death in the world, deciding between life in death for the few unlucky souls forced to go through judgement.

     These legends and stories do not come from nothing. As long as time has existed, guardians have been selected to help protect the world and keep it in balance. These guardians don’t necessarily have to be human; many of the guardians were animals, keeping their homelands safe. This was before humans existed of course, and now that humans have evolved to have more intricate brains then their predecessors, Death has decided they shall be the ones to keep our world at peace. This job is a great and glorious task, the guardians held in the highest respects in Death’s kingdom.

     There have been many of these guardians over the years. Some good at their task, using their powers for justice and creating balance, so subtly no one even knew what they were doing. Others abused their powers, using them for personal benefit. These powers, despite the intended use to protect and serve the world, can be used to bring great destruction. These gifts can be used to tear apart the very world they were created to protect. So caution must always be used, their powers activated sparingly.

     The selection of guardians, for the most part, is very random. The only requirements are to be a female, to have a strong will, and to be young when the selection process is starting. Guardians are also usually only chosen in times where the world is in great crisis, the guardians intending to be the saving grace of the world. However, it’s not always the case. They may also be selected if there has not been a guardian for a long stretch of time, attempting to keep the problems out before the world can even begin to fall apart.

      The selection has begun. The world of Erosia is about to get a new guardian. A savior. A hero. A protector.

    And in the dark, a new hero is born. Alexis, the protector and defender of men; the helper of mankind. The guardian.

      Good luck.

 There wasn’t time to think. There wasn’t time to make a choice, to think things through, to be safe. There was only time to pack up and run.

     Who would have thought she would run? The one who swore to stay, to protect the one person in the whole world she could never truly abandon, running away and leaving her behind? It seemed wrong, it made her skin crawl and her stomach twist into a tight knot no amount of counted breaths could unravel.

      She was gone.

    What was she to do now? A teenage runaway with no way of getting around quickly, no money save for the cash in her wallet, and no way to make it in the world. How was she to help anyone? To help herself?

    It didn’t matter. Death did not care for her. She was on her own, as she always had been. Big brave responsible Alexis, who needed no help to get her life together, so why even bother to offer? To ask?

She shook her head. Now was not the time to be bitter.

   Days went by. Food and water were starting to dwindle, despite her rationing her supplies. She had made her way to the stretch of desert she knew led to the city of Antibella, and she had been regretting it the minute she stepped out into the blazing heat of the desert sun. A mountain range loomed in the distance, creating a natural barrier between the city and the harsh desert.

      She could make it.

   Two more days passed. Her water was officially out, and there was still a long stretch of road in front of her. She wanted to collapse onto the ground and cry. Why was she chosen to do this? She was just a kid, she couldn’t make it on her own like this!

      Death did not care.

      Two more days.

    Her vision swam, her head pounding as her skin burned a light shade of red that reminded her of the sunset, only more painful and less beautiful. Her throat was dry, her tongue following in suit. Her body ached from walking without stop, save for a few hours of sleep at night. Her blonde curls were starting to fall out of her ponytail, her sneakers catching in every single crack in the worn road, the deep grey the only contrast from the cracked dirt that stretched on endlessly on either side of her. There wasn’t a single cloud in the sky as she walked, no shade to rid her skin of the burns it was receiving. There was barely even a breeze. She regretted wearing shorts and a t-shirt, though she knew if she had been wearing clothes that covered more than that she would’ve gotten a heat stroke on her first day of walking. Summers in this part of the state were always brutal, and being in a desert certainly didn’t help.

     She collapsed on the side of the road, her body finally giving in to the tiny voice whispering in the back of her head. She was crying, she was positive of it. How she even had any water to produce tears was beyond her; but the tears came nonetheless, making her head pound even more harshly as she struggled to keep from passing out. She could see stars starting to cloud her vision. Night was falling, giving her skin a slight break from the rays of the sun, but that only tempted her body even more. Slowly, she found herself caring less and less about whether she passed out or not. Sleep sounded great to her; she probably needed it.

There was a light. Car headlights. Someone was picking her up. She was in the car, water being poured into her mouth. A soft voice whispering a greeting. An officer named Caydence, she was on patrol when she found her. The mountain range wasn’t too far away, she would take her to her home for the night so she could recover and an explanation was expected in the morning. She couldn’t find the energy to worry about where she was going at this point; her brain could barely process the fact that Caydence was talking, let alone the idea that Caydence may be trying to cause her harm, not saving her.

     She woke up the next morning in a bed she did not recognize, in a room she had never seen before. She wracked her brain. Caydence. She was with Caydence. This must be Caydence’s house.

     Caydence was at the kitchen table. She offered her food and tried to get her to explain why she was on the side of the road. She refused to explain, saying she would sound crazy to Caydence and that she really should be going. Caydence stopped her before she could, saying that she really should recover and treat her burns. She had protested but Caydence had reasoned that pushing herself would only make her condition worse. After that she agreed to stay with Caydence for a little while, promising herself that she would be cautious. Death had warned that at first the powers could be out of control and activate at random times, and until she figured out how to use it, she had decided to try and steer clear of people. She of course didn’t have much of a choice, Caydence could track her down easily, and she couldn’t get very far on foot. She would have to simply hope for the best.

Weeks passed by. Caydence had begun to teach her some self defense techniques, showing her how to take down people twice her size and weight. They were starting to bond; Caydence had always wanted to adopt, but as she was almost never home and had hard time finding someone who was willing to be in a relationship with her due to her being asexual, she had never gotten the chance to. However, since she was older and responsible, she could care for herself when Caydence wasn’t home, so really they were a perfect fit for each other.

Caydence never stopped trying to get her to explain everything. But she knew better than to tell Caydence about Death and the dream. About how she had woken up and found the marks of the guardian on her face, like deep ink spilling over her skin like tendrils. The marks themselves started at her eyes; one snaked around her cheek bone and ended at the middle of her cheek, like hooks. Another tendril curved around her brows, stopping when they reached her temple. The last marks started at the tip of her outer eye, curving and stopping next to her ears. Each mark ended with a sharp tip, almost as if she was trying to put on eyeliner and failed miserably. The marks made her feel inhuman, almost unreal. They were a sign that she was a freak, a monster; that all she would ever be was the darkness in the world. The only comfort they brought her was that when the marks appeared, they made her look unrecognizable, or so Death had promised. Her identity was safe if she ever used her powers in front of someone.

The more time she spent with Caydence, the more uneasy she became. She felt like a time bomb, only she didn’t know when she would finally blow. There was no clock counting down when she would activate her powers, only the promise that one day she would, and someone would get hurt. She didn’t want that person to be Caydence. She didn’t want that person to be anyone, really. There was no one out there who was entirely evil, who deserved a punishment so harsh as death. No one was born cruel and destructive; those who are simply are the products of being broken, of their hope and hearts being lost. Perhaps they had become cruel and hateful, but that did not mean they deserve death. It simply means they need help, to be put back on the right track. She knew that a lot of them probably couldn’t be helped, but it wouldn’t hurt to at least try. If there was a peaceful solution, they should take it.

It had been a month now since she started living with Caydence. She was used to having her around now, she was comfortable with Caydence. Now, she could never view Caydence as a mother; she had a mom already, whom she loved very much. But she did see Caydence as a parental figure, and loved her as such. Perhaps she shouldn’t have; she should have kept her distance to keep herself and Caydence safe. But she couldn’t help it; Caydence was kind and had proven several times in her stay that she truly cared about her. Caydence was starting to consider her as her own. They had a bond no one could deny, a love that was built on the foundation of almost unconditional trust. They cared for one another, and would do anything for the other.

They were about to come to their second month of living together when it happened. Caydence was out late for a job, and she had started to panic. This was not very unusual for them; she often worried that one day Caydence would leave and not return. Being a police officer wasn’t the safest job in the world, especially not after the market crash that happened a few years ago. Crime rates had skyrocketed, people either desperate for money or desperate to feel okay again. Caydence said that was one of the reasons she loved being a cop; she got to help people get back on their feet, or she at least tried. Most other officers didn’t think the way she did; they thought that those who had fallen into lives of crime deserved to be locked up, plain and simple. They always seemed to forget the people they were arresting were actual people, with lives and feelings; they weren’t evil. Caydence had fought with them for ages, but they still wouldn’t budge. Still, she did the best she could, and helped wherever she could.

There were footsteps in the house. She had sprung to her feet, thinking it was Caydence, but realized that the footsteps were too heavy and too far spaced apart to be Caydence, unless she was stomping into the house for no reason. Someone had come in, someone she didn’t know. Caydence would never have had someone come over if she wasn’t going to be home. She would have at least let her know, usually by calling the house phone. This guest was unplanned, which meant it was most likely someone Caydence didn’t want here.

Shuffling around. The sound of cabinets being opened and closed, drawers being looked through. A burglar. That wasn’t good. What should she do, what should she do? She felt her heart pound in her chest as her breaths quickened, her body starting to shake. So far whoever it was didn’t seem to know she was home, but what would happen once they did? What if they tried to hurt her? What if she hurt them and got Caydence sued?

Her hand shakily grasped the bedroom handle where she had been hidden before the burglar came in. Should she go out and stop them, or wait for them to leave then report them? It would be easier to report them if she knew what they looked like. She took in a few deep breaths. She could do this. Just look at whoever it was, and get out. Easy peasy.

She carefully opened the door, her body still shaking. She had to cover her mouth to keep from breathing too loudly and alert the perpetrator of her presence. She had to be careful. To be smart. She held in a yelp as she heard something crash and fall. Someone else had come in. Was it Caydence? Or did this guy have an accomplice? She jumped back as the two people landed in front of her, clearly wrestling.

Something inside her snapped. She could feel pure power ooze through her veins, filling her to the brim with a calming coolness. She could feel the marks spread across her face, and suddenly she wasn’t herself anymore. She was a pawn, a chess piece, just some girl in somebody’s game. What was she doing?

It happened so quickly she almost didn’t know it had. There was a gunshot, a scream, and the power surged out of her, lashing out at the first person she saw in front of her without her telling it to. Both bodies went still, and she gulped, searching for a lightswitch, the lights having been left off so that whoever it was wouldn’t be caught, and so no one tried to attack her when Caydence wasn’t there.

The lights flickered on and she let out a choked cry, her heart feeling as if it was trying to carve itself out of her chest, her stomach twisting in pain and anguish. Caydence lay on the floor, her eyes open and her body still. She wasn’t breathing. There was a gun in her hand, blood spilling from a gunshot wound in the burglar’s head. He was an older guy, strongly built. Her eyes stung as the tears fell, and she was rushing to Caydence’s side just to be sure.

No pulse.

This was all her fault. She had killed Caydence. She was a monster.

In a last attempt to give Caydence a peaceful death, she positioned her like she was sleeping, her hands over her stomach. She closed her eyes, those beautiful hazel eyes that were filled with so much light now dead. The strongly built body from years of training in the police force, her choppy brown hair tied back so she didn’t have to move it out of her face. Caydence had always been such a warm and comforting presence, and whenever Caydence hugged her, she always felt so safe and secure, her arms wrapping all the way around her, Caydence much taller and bigger then she was.

And now she was gone.

The voice in her head was screaming at her, telling her to run, to hide, to scream, to do something to rid herself of the pain that was drowning her. Things weren’t supposed to go this way, they were supposed to be good, to be safe, to be happy. Caydence was never supposed to die.

And just as she had run away from her home, she ran from Caydence, and the safety of the alternate reality she had created with her, where she didn’t have powers, and everything was alright.

She couldn’t sleep for nights after that, the pale face of Caydence’s corpse behind her eyes whenever she closed them, haunting her by whispering ‘monster’ over and over again.

And the voice was right.

She really was a monster.

A month went by. She was on the streets in the city of Antibella, searching for a place to stay where she couldn’t hurt anyone. This was extremely difficult as Antibella was one of the biggest cities in the country. Almost every single building was occupied and overstuffed with residents who lived within the city limits. Streets were lined with buildings varying from towering glass complexes to small one story shops that looked close to collapsing. Unfortunately, Antibella was also the best place to get information spread to the whole country, as it was the place where the majority of movies, commercials, and major newscasts were filmed. If she wanted to change anything, this was the best place to start.

She gasped as she woke, shooting upright as adrenaline shot through her. Tears started streaming down her face as her hands grabbed at her hair, her body hunching over as her stomach and chest started to constrict, sobs barely escaping her rapidly closing throat. A shelter worker noticed the disturbance and rushed over, whispering soothing words as she attempted to get her breathing to even out. The sun had barely started rising, her entire body shaking and her head pounding as it tried to cope with the exhaustion and emotional turmoil in her mind. Her eyes had deep rings under them, her bones now visible as she lost more and more weight from the lack of food and constant running. The very little food she was able to eat often ended up being puked up from her body trying to rid itself of the sick feeling that hadn’t left since Caydence’s death. A month of coping wasn’t enough; she needed to be able to rest, to think, to mourn. But how could she stop, for even a minute? How could someone so dangerous let their emotions grip them when one slip up could lead to even more death?

She tried to steady her breathing as the shelter talked her through her episode, though the words were indiscernible. Nightmares came to her every night now, the sound of gunshots and screaming plaguing her every waking and sleeping moment. She couldn’t escape the fear, the pain, the cold bitter nothingness that came with watching someone you care about die. She hadn’t even known Caydence that long, yet in her time of desperate need, she had latched onto her, pinning all her hope on her as she struggled to come to terms with the new powers she had been ‘blessed’ with. Being with Caydence gave her time to breathe for a moment, to see what it meant to be a guardian, to figure herself out and how her life would work with these changes.

No. Being with Caydence had given her time to ignore it, to act like nothing had changed to avoid having to accept this new fate. It gave her an excuse to live a normal life instead of dealing with the new dangerous side of her.

She was breathing. The tears had stopped falling. She could clearly understand what the shelter worker was saying now, she was talking about how beautiful the sunrise looked.She turned and looked at the rising sun. She was right, it was beauitful.

Another deep breath. She could do this. Just stand. She shakily stood, her breathing still ragged, her stomach feeling close to heaving. Grab your bag, you packed everything last night. With shaky hands she grabbed her bag, slinging it over her shoulder. Now leave, we have things to do.

She quietly thanked the woman and left.

A week later, she stumbled across a small abandoned furniture shop, the building still in good shape despite the lack of people taking care of it. This was a quieter part of the city, which meant as long as she could get in, it would be perfect.

She set up camp.

Days went by.

She was tired. She was hungry. She was dehydrated. And there was a man following her. Based on the fact he changed his pace to match hers whenever she tried to get away from him, it was safe to say he really was following her, not just walking on the same street as her. He kept staring at her with calculating eyes, his gaze focused on her like a wolf stalking its prey. It made her skin crawl and her stomach twist unpleasantly. This was bad, she wasn’t safe walking out here. She couldn’t go back to her camp, he would just follow her inside. She needed a public building where she could wait him out.

There was a bookstore.

She slipped inside.

The store was brightly lit with golden colored lights, shelves lined with books that came up to her shoulders in the front and got bigger towards the back, the shiny polished wood reflecting the lights giving the whole building a very warm and welcoming feel to it. Posters with inspirational quotes from different authors and fictional characters lined the walls, glowstars decorating the ceiling in a little corner dedicated to reading. Behind the register was a very surprised man, who smiled warmly at her despite her ragged and dirty appearance.

“Welcome! May I help you?” he asked. She shook her head.

“I hope you don’t mind, there was a man following me and I wanted to wait in here until he went away and found something better to do with his life then following underage girls,” she said, slowly walking through the different shelves and sections, a small smile on her face as her eyes scanned the books. Her hand reached out and gently stroked the books as she went.

“Not at all! Should I call the police?” the man asked.

“I don’t think they can do anything, the man hasn’t actually touched me or even said a word to me. He just kept following me like a creep,” she said, stopping as her eyes caught on to one of the books from her childhood. It was an old fairytale about a princess who slayed a dragon and became the queen of her kingdom, marrying a young and handsome prince. She had always liked that story; it made her feel hopeful, that someday someone would be able to love her like he loved her, and that she could one day slay her dragon and become the queen.

“Well, stay as long as you need. Feel free to read any of the books,” the man said, his sparkling blue eyes full of light. She found her smile growing as she  met his gaze.

“Thank you,” she said, walking again. The man nodded.

“Of course,” the man said.

An hour passed. She couldn’t see the man outside, so she took a few deep breaths and left.

She was halfway back to her camp when she spotted him again. She felt her blood run cold as her heart raced. Why hadn’t he left? What could he possibly want from her? She broke into a sprint, feeling tears build in her eyes. She could hear his footsteps following her, and let out a frustrated groan. Why was he so desperate to get to her? Couldn’t he have gone to someone else?

No. If he wanted to make her a target, fine. That means he wasn’t bothering someone else. The real question is what could she do to stop him?

She felt her heart sink in her chest as the answer came to her. She could absolutely use her powers to stop him, but did he really deserve to be killed? What if he had a family he had to take care of? She shook her head. If this guy was willing to chase her, a homeless teenage girl, in the middle of the night, his family deserved better. No one should be forced to be with a creep.

Deep breaths. In, out, in, out. She could do this.

She whirled around, shocking the man as he actually managed to catch up to her. He smirked and started to reach for her, then gasped. She could feel her power spread through her like a wildfire, setting off every nerve in her body as she  prepared to take him out. She could feel the coolness in her eyes and face as the marks spread across it, reminding her just how dangerous she really was. The man took a step back, sensing something off.

“What the hell?!” he cried. She smirked.

“Are you scared?” she mocked, taking a step towards him. He scowled.

“You’re just a little girl, what could you-” before he could finish his sentence, she kneed his gut, cutting off his air and making him double over. She sent a silent thank you to Caydence and forced him to meet her gaze.

“Don’t underestimate me, you creep. I’m more capable and dangerous than you think,” she warned. He scowled, but she could see him shaking.

“Y-you’re just a girl, what could you do?” he asked, starting to stand up straight. She kneed him again and he groaned.

“Aww, you are scared! How does it feel being the one scared for your safety? It sucks, doesn’t it?” she teased, forcing him to meet her eyes again.

“You’re a bitch,” he managed to croak.

“And you’re a creepy ass pedophile, are we done stating the obvious yet? Because there’s a jail cell that has your name all over it,” she said. His eyes widened and he lunged forward, knocking her over as he landed on top of her. He smirked and she felt pure fear shoot through her. She was gonna die, she was gonna die, she was gonna die-

Her power shot out of her like a bullet, and the man went limp. She scrambled to get out from under him, her heart still racing as she stared at him.

Okay. She did that. She really did. And the worst part was that she didn’t even really feel bad about it. He was a creep, and he was trying to hurt her. She told him she was gonna take him to jail, and he had refused and attacked her, so she had simply responded with her gut, just like anyone else. Why was that such a bad thing?

Oh fuck.

She was changing.

What was wrong with her?! She just killed someone! She had been thinking about killing him the whole time! She was trying to hurt him! How could she think that was okay?!

“I’m such a fucking freak,” she muttered, trying to pull herself together. The next question was what should she do with the body. Should she call the police, or wait for someone else to find it?

Voices. People were coming. People were going to see her. She had to get out of here. She had to run. She had messed up, she had messed up so badly, she was gonna get in so much trouble she was so screwed.

She took off running. A second later, there was a loud scream as whoever it was found the body. She couldn’t tell if they had seen her leave. She had to pray they hadn’t, or at least didn’t see enough to describe what she looked like.

When she finally made it back to her camp, she fell to her knees as the after effects of adrenaline kicked in. She held her head in her hands as tears fell, the marks slowly disappearing from her face. Her entire body was shaking from her sobs and fear, her stomach and chest constricting to try and force the sick feeling in her out. It made her want to claw at her chest to escape the feeling, as if she could climb out of her own skin and not feel anymore.

The next day she was on the news. The picture was blurry, her features were almost completely unrecognizable, save for the marks, which stood out very prominently, making her look almost unreal, like some supervillain in a superhero movie. The headline read ‘victim murdered by young girl with black marks with no murder weapon, poison, or any other mean to kill them. So the question is, how did she do it?’. She scowled as she saw it. She was annoyed they could tell she was a young girl, and that they knew she had killed him, but she was also thankful that they couldn’t tell specifically who it was. No one could accuse her.

She shakily made her way down the street, her body screaming at her to get some water and to eat something. Her throat was dry and ached from her tears that came every morning and night, her head pounding from the loss of water.

A store. A small family owned store from the looks of it. Maybe she could convince them to give her something. She dug into her pocket, pulling out the wallet she had taken from Caydence’s house. There was still some cash inside, but she wanted to save it just in case something happened, like a surprise sickness or injury. Better to see if she could simply get something without spending her precious dollars.

She stepped inside the cool air of the shop, a little bell above the door signalling her arrival. A young man with caramel colored skin and unruly brown curls popped up behind the counter, a bright smile on his face. It seemed like he wasn’t used to getting many customers.

“Welcome! May I help you?” he beamed, his voice hinted with a slight hispanic accent. I shot him a smile and walked over to the counter.

“As it just so happens I feel like I’m going to pass out or break down in tears within the next few minutes, so if you have some water and food to spare, that would be great,” she said, her smile not dropping even as another spike of pain shot through her, starting from her gut and ending at the tips of her fingers and toes. His eyes widened and he nodded, leaping over the counter with a surprising amount of grace. He quickly made his way through the small store, grabbing various items from the small shelves of painted white wood and metal, bright white lights making the whole place feel almost unreal, as if she’d traveled to a different dimension by stepping inside, even with the familiar sight of fridges holding cooled products and shelves full of brands she’d seen her whole life.

“Sit down on the counter,” the boy ordered, his brow creased in concentration and concern. She bit her lip but did as she was told, her mind slowly losing it’s resolve as her body started to shut down. The boy handed her a bottle of water and she gulped it down, feeling relief wash over her as it travelled through her system.

“Thank you,” she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. He nodded and silently handed her another bottle and a pack of jerky.

“How long have you been without food and water?” he asked and she thought for a moment.

“Well, I’ve been out of food for...five days? Yeah, five, and as for water, I think two, so I’m honestly surprised I could move at all, and haven’t started hallucinating or something like that,” she said, tearing open the package and stuffing three pieces in her mouth. The boy was quiet for a moment.

“...you really shouldn’t do that,” he said, his voice soft. I rolled my eyes.

“Because I totally did it on purpose, right?” she snapped, then winced. “Sorry, that was rude, I’m just… tired, which makes it hard to stay nice all the time,” she apologized, looking at her feet, the dirty sneakers she wore starting to wear down, one even having a hole on the side.

“I get it, times are tough,” he said, his voice gentle and more understanding then she would have expected from a stranger. She nodded and continued to stuff her face until the bag was empty. It wasn’t enough to feel full, but the hunger pains dissipated, and she let out a sigh of relief. It wasn’t a perfect fix, but it was enough for now.

“I’m Robert,” the boy said after a little while of silence.

“It’s nice to meet you Robert. Thank you, again,” she said, starting to slide off the counter. Robert gently pushed her back and for a brief moment she was afraid he was gonna pin her to the counter. He, instead, simply kept her there, not trying to trap her, but trying to keep her in place for a moment.

“You need to rest. If you were close to passing it, getting back out there probably won’t be very good for your health and personal wellbeing,” he said, his eyes soft but his voice stern. She rolled her eyes.

“Right, yes, of course, I forgot about how you can absolutely control where I go and what I do, my apologies,” she retorted and he scowled at her.

“What, it’s illegal for me to worry about your wellbeing?” he shot back and she grinned.

“Well, no, but I do find it a little odd you’re worried about the wellbeing of a stranger. I could be a lunatic criminal for all you know,” she pointed out and he rolled his eyes.

“Sure, because a teenage girl on the verge of a breakdown who comes in begging for food is a lunatic criminal,” he retorted and she scowled at him jokingly.

“I did not beg you, I would’ve just left if you said no,” she snapped and he laughed.

“Of course, because someone on the verge of passing out is just gonna go waltzing through the streets,” he said and she rolled her eyes.

“I would not have waltzed through the streets. Do I look like I waltz? I didn’t think so. No, I would have strutted through those streets,” she said and he laughed again, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Whatever,” he said, and frowned. “Wait, you didn’t tell me your name, which is totally not fair, because I told you mine,” he said and she giggled.

“How dare you use a social contract to make me give you my name,” she said, crossing her arms in annoyance, though she was more amused than anything. She was enjoying his company, especially after walking on eggshells around other people. It was nice to just relax and let herself exist without any strings attached.

“Hey, I’m just being polite, so you should too,” he said and she shook her head with a small smile. She wouldn’t give him her real name, that would only make things worse, but she could give him something to call her. So what should she choose? She wracked her brain and her gaze landed on a vase full of flowers. These were very common flowers to find in her own home; her mom loved the way they looked, big petals in different shades of pink that curled out, revealing yellow centers. What were they called again?

“Lily,” she finally said. He raised a brow.

“That’s not your real name, is it?” he said and she laughed.

“Says who?” she snapped, a grin back on her face.

“Well, unless you forgot your own name and it took you that long to remember it, then I’d say you came up with one right on the spot,” he said and she giggled.

“You caught me, but I’m sure you understand why I can’t tell you my real name,” she said and he shrugged.

“Not really,” he said and she sighed.

“I’m a homeless teenager, Robert. Don’t you think I’m out on the streets for a reason?” she said and he frowned.

“Did you… run away?” he asked and she grinned.

“Ding! Ding! Ding! We have a winner!” she said, feeling lighter then she had in weeks.

“Hmm, something tells me most people aren;t as excited as you are to run away from home,” he said with a grin.

“Well, I’m not happy with the whole ordeal, but hey, I met you, so that’s a plus,” she said. He gave her a soft smile and her stomach sank. What was she doing? This was going to be Caydence all over again.  

“And I thought you hated me,” he teased, still grinning. His smile faltered as I slid off the counter, his gaze following me as I walked to the door. “Where are you going?” he asked, his voice sounding hurt.

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” she said, and before he could say another word, she took off running. She knew she couldn’t isolate herself forever; it would drive her insane if she was alone all the time. But she wanted to protect as many people as she could from herself. She couldn’t risk what happened to Caydence happening to anyone else. And even though it made her chest ache she left Robert behind, despite the friendship that had started to bloom. Better safe than sorry.

It was a hunch. Just a small hunch, after a scream tore through the air. It had come from one of the apartments in the poorer part of the city, where the crime rate was high and the rent was low. She wondered if the city knew they were the ones breeding the violence, then immediately dismissed the thought. Of course they didn’t. Or they did and just didn’t care, which unfortunately sounded more likely than the former possibility. The city of Antibella was full of this kind of controversy; towering buildings like palaces side by side while homeless people sat out on the streets, begging for money; a city full of art and color protesting the creation of unconventional beauty; thousands of people living side by side yet no one dared help the other when they fell. You would think with a city full of people who were all struggling they would band together to make things better, but all they did was push each other away.

Her head whipped around so fast she felt her neck begin to ache, but she pushed the thought away as she tore her way to the small apartment complex across the street. As she got closer, she could hear the signs of struggle, voices screaming from the third floor. The door was unlocked, thankfully, so she was able to enter the complex without a problem, though she would need to tell the tenants to remember to make sure it was locked. She scrambled up the staircase, nearly tripping over her own feet several times as she tried to get to the third floor. The closer she got the harder her heart pounded, blood rushing through her making it hard to think straight. What was she going to find when she found whoever was screaming? What happened if she was wrong?

She jumped when a gunshot sounded and her blood  ran cold. That couldn’t be good for anyone, no matter who held the gun. She pressed herself against the wall, feeling her power washing over her as she listened for which room they were in. It sounded like it came from the room two doors down, but she didn’t want to disturb anyone by randomly bursting in where she wasn’t wanted or needed. She bit her tongue to hold back a startled yelp when another gunshot sounded. She dashed down the hall and threw open the door to find a man standing over a young woman, who was covering her face with her hands as he held a gun to her head. The man turned to look at her with wide eyes.

“Get out!” he shouted, aiming the gun at her. She shot forward much like the bullets from the gun and yanked the gun out of his grip, kicking his ground simultaneously. The woman scrambled away from the fight and huddled in the corner, her body trembling as she watched them with tear filled eyes. She growled lightly and kneed him in the gut, anger hitting her like a freight train. This man had been beating this woman, she could see the marks from here. Might as well give him a taste of his own medicine, right? She elbowed his nose and stood back as he fell to the floor, frowning. That should not have sent him to the floor. She jumped back before he could swipe at her legs and elbowed his neck, pushing his adams apple to the floor and making him gag.

“Stay down,” she growled and he looked up at her with terrified eyes.

“Who are you?!” he cried and she got down on her knee, staring him in the eye.

“I suppose I’m one of death’s little helpers, so let me warn you now, do not make this any worse than it already is, or I will not hesitate to send you to your doom, got that?” she hissed, narrowing her eyes at him and he gulped, becoming still. She kicked his side for good measure and he grunted but didn’t move, so she moved on to the girl.

“Are you alright?” she asked, gently brushing hair out of the girl’s eyes. She nodded and gave her a watery smile.

“Thank you,” the girl whispered. She gently helped the girl to her feet and had her call the police while she kept an eye on the man, who was still sprawled out on the floor. She studied the gun she had grabbed from the man, a simple revolver she guessed he kept tucked away in his house in case of emergencies, or for scaring his… girlfriend? Wife? She wasn’t sure what their relationship was.

“So.” the man said after a little while. She had been busy cleaning up the girl in the kitchen, but turned her attention back to the man as she realized he was now sitting up again. “Death’s helper, huh? How do we know it’s true?” the man asked, sounding smug, as if he’d just found out her deepest secret. She grinned at him.

“You know that guy that was on the news a week ago? The one who was killed by a girl and nobody knows how or why?” she said. His eyes widened.

“That was you?” he asked, sounding mortified.

“Damn right it was. He was a creep, following me home. I acted on instinct if I’m being honest, killing him was an accident. This power isn’t exactly easy to control, y’know?” she said, looking down at her hand. The girl was regarding her with terrified eyes now, afraid she would be next.

“You won’t hurt me will you?” the girl whispered and she frowned.

“Not if I don’t have to. Is there something I should be aware of?” she asked, raising a brow at the girl, who looked down guiltily.

“I just… I work as a stripper in a club not too far away, and I sometimes have sex for money, which is why he was angry with me,” the girl said and she chuckled.

“Last I checked that’s not illegal, or even bad. You’re allowed to do what you want with your life, he can’t make that decision for you,” she said. “I mean, unless you feel unsafe or unhappy I really don’t care if that’s the job you have,” she said, continuing to clean the girl off. She jumped when she heard sirens and felt her blood run cold once again. She shouldn’t be here when the cops show up, they might arrest her. She turned and started to walk away when the man reached for her.

“You’re leaving?” he snapped and nodded.

“And you’re staying,” she said, shooting his leg and walking out the door. It wouldn’t kill him, or it shouldn’t, at least, but it would keep him from moving around too much, which meant the girl should be safe.

Her job was done.

She was on the news again, except this time there was a picture. She looked...terrifying to look at in the lighting. Her eyes seemed to bore into her soul, and it was strange to feel unnerved by looking at a picture of herself. But it wasn’t herself. It was whatever she became when she activated her powers. The news reporter dubbed her the ‘she devil’ of the city, which she found unfair. She wasn’t a demon; though she supposed she could run with it if she wanted to. It would certainly scare people, and with the powers she had been blessed with, it was a given anyway. Why try and run from it?

“She-demon my ass,” she muttered, walking down the street with her hand in her pockets. She really needed to brand herself. She needed a look of some sort so people would know it’s her, and not call her a she-demon on camera. Or maybe to make sure they did call her that; she hadn’t decided yet.

She froze. There was a boy just… staring at her. She couldn’t understand why; she could barely remember the last time she showered, and she knew without looking she looked a mess. Whatever semblance of beauty that had existed before all of this was gone, replaced by a human hurricane. Maybe he stared because of the mess she was. Perhaps he liked looking at those who were dirty and lost; it could be something that made him feel better about himself. But there was something about his piercing gaze that told her otherwise. He seemed to recognize her, which was odd, because she was sure she had never seen him before. How could he possibly know her?

He disappeared before she ever got the chance to go up and ask. Or, to be more honest with herself, before she could work up enough courage to actually go up and ask. In her other persona she felt more confident, almost untouchable; she held so much power. But when she was just this, a lonely homeless teenage girl, she had no power, and the confidence vanished. She was nobody like this; even lower than that. She was worse than being nothing; she was a something that people despised, no matter how much they said they didn’t. Being a homeless person wasn’t exactly the best thing to be, especially when you’re a teenager. People assumed you were out there for a reason; that either you were ungrateful and ran away, or something happened to your parents and you didn’t want to be fostered, so you ran away. She doubted most cases were actually like that; especially considering that a lot of kids aren’t even aware of their bad home situations until they’re older, realizing what they went through wasn’t normal. She remembered hearing the stories of kids who ran away only to end up dead in a ditch somewhere. She remembered her friends being afraid of being themselves in front of their families. She remembered the fear she saw in the other kids’ eyes. She wanted to help, she always has. Perhaps that was why Death chose her; she, all her life, had wanted to make the world a better place. Someone had to do it, so why not her?

She shook her head and kept walking, deciding to push her memories to the back of her mind. No emotional breakdowns right now, thank you very much. She knew one was coming; it was inevitable. She was tired constantly from nightmares and the lack of the nutrients her body needed, leaving her mind unstable and on edge constantly. Anything could set her off.

Weeks went by. There were three more victims; two gang members trying to corner a young woman, and a mother who had been beating her kids. She was becoming more widely known; if she walked around outside with the marks on her face, at least half the people she passed by would know exactly who she was. She was also starting to brand herself; a bright red jacket with spikes on the shoulders, a gift from the daughter of the abusive mother, black gloves from the woman she saved, worn but comfortable combat boots from a kind shop owner. She was glad she didn’t have to do a lot of stealing to get by; she was surprised by how many people in the city just gave her food or water when asked. Kindness was hidden deep within the city, in it’s poorest sections, below the snobby rich folk’s noses. Now if she could just get a shower or some decent sleep…

She was on a patrol of the city, something she had started doing a week before, to try and catch criminals in less dramatic fashions (she really needed to stop bursting into people’s homes). She wore her ‘mask’ more frequently now; she wanted people to know when she was coming, so she walked around the city like this when she patrolled. She didn’t notice the person following her until they were right behind her. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on how you look at it, it was only a news reporter, quickly followed by a camera crew.

“Are you the mysterious serial killer?” the news  reporter asked, her voice brighter and bubblier than she thought was really appropriate for the topic at hand.

“I wouldn’t exactly say ‘mysterious’, as you recognized me on sight, but yes, that’s me,” she said, crossing her arms and staring at the reporter. The reporter smiled.

“Excellent! Mind if we do a quick interview?” the reporter asked. She shook her head.

“Not at all. It’s probably a good idea to let people know what exactly I’m trying to do here,” she said, and the reporter smiled at her.

“Excellent! Let’s get hair and makeup over here, you look dreadful,” the reporter said, wrinkling her nose. She snorted.

“That’s putting it lightly,” she said, letting herself be pulled away by the crew. It felt nice to be pampered again, to get her makeup and hair done like she was some celebrity. It reminded her of what her life was like back at home, when she was still performing.

No, she scolded herself. Not right now. You’re going to be on camera. Also someone just spent fifteen minutes on your makeup. She sighed and stood from the chair they’d placed her on (apparently they also had a van following them; crazy news people), making her way back towards the reporter, who beamed at her.

“Much better! Are you ready?” the reporter asked and she nodded, putting on her brightest and friendliest smile. This, at least, was something she knew; she’d been a performer her whole life, she knew what face to put on for the camera.

“10! 9! 8! 7! 6! 5! 4! 3!-” the camera man held up the last two numbers and the reporter immediately started talking into the mic she just now realized she had been holding.

“Hello, and welcome to the Atibella four o’clock news! I’m Miranda James, coming to you live with a very special guest! This here is the infamous serial killer, say hi!” the reporter thrust the mic to her face and she did her best not to jump back.

“Hey folks,” she said, and the mic was immediately pulled away again.

“So, I have a question that I’m sure the whole city has been thinking lately, you really seemed to pop out of nowhere, and no one seems to know who you are. So, my question is this: who are?” the reporter asked, thrusting the mic back in her face.

She thought for a moment. How could she answer that? What exactly was she expecting from this answer? What could she say without giving anything away?

“I’m a helper for Death,” she said slowly. “He blessed me with these powers to go out and try and make things better,” she said.

“So like the Grim Reaper?” the reporter asked. She smiled.

“Not the Grim Reaper. Just The Reaper,” she said. The reporter nodded.

“The Reaper, got it. So, Reaper, where did you come from? Don’t you have a family looking for you?” the reporter asked. She snorted.

“Who said anyone’s looking for me?” she said. The reporter laughed.

“You’ve got to have some family, right?” the reporter asked.

That was it. That was the tip. She knew it before she could even feel it. Was her family looking for her? Were they worried? Scared? What would they think if they knew who she was? Her little sister must be so worried about her. What was she doing? She left her sister home alone! She wasn’t there to protect her anymore! Her sister had always been so terrified of the world, and she had promised that she wouldn’t leave her, that she would always be there for her, and then she had just left her. She was such a horrible older sister, how could she ever be good if she couldn’t even protect her sister? How could she ever be good if she had abandoned the one thing she swore to watch over with her life?

The reporter was calling her name, but she couldn’t hear her; she was trapped in her mind, stuck in the middle of a massive typhoon of emotions she couldn’t stop. She wasn’t sure what was reality; was she on the ground or drowning? Was that really the sky, or was she just imagining it? She couldn’t breathe; water filled her lungs and she choked out sobs. Was that her sister calling her? Was she screaming? Or were those sirens? She tried to swim to the surface, desperate for air, but something was holding her still. Were those hands? Why did the water look like buildings? Where was she? What was happening? Was this real? Was this just a dream? Would she wake up back home with her little sister safe and sound?

Darkness. All she could see was darkness. Were her eyes closed? Was she blacking out? Why couldn’t she move? Why couldn’t she do anything?

There was a voice. Someone was trying to remove whatever was holding her down. Were they helping her? Why couldn’t she open her eyes? Why couldn’t she move or speak or do anything? She needed to run, to get back to safety. But she couldn’t. Was she being lifted off the ground? Was someone picking her up? Was that shouting? A breeze? Why couldn’t she tell?! She was drowning in nothing; she was surrounded by clear air yet there was still water in her lungs, keeping her from breathing it in. What if she never made it back? What if she was stuck in this state forever? She could feel her heart racing in her chest from her panic. It’s all she could seem to feel anymore; the steady heartbeat.

A second heartbeat. It was faint, but she could feel it racing, just like hers. Someone was holding her. Who was it? When did they get here? Why were they holding her? Didn’t they know who she was?

Something was covering her ears that made the world go quiet again, the heartbeat gone. She was alone. But she wasn’t.

Her eyes opened and she nearly fell over in shock. Where was she? She’d never seen this place before. She was sitting on a couch in an unfamiliar but decently sized apartment. There were headphones pressing snugly against her ears, not playing anything, but helping ground her nonetheless. She could breathe; she was breathing. She wanted to cry in relief, before she realized she was already crying. When had that happened?

She removed the headphones and tried to stand, only to fall back down from a dizzy spell.

“Slow your roll there, Blondie,” a voice said, and the boy from earlier rushed over, his gaze softer from the one before.

“Who are you? Why am I here? How am I here? What do you want from me? Were you following me? That’s kind of creepy,” she snapped and he blinked.

“Uh...my name is Ethan, and… I was kind of following you, but only because I was worried. I don’t want anything from you, and I brought you here because they wanted to bring you to the hospital and I figured a vigilante wouldn’t want the world to know their secret identity, right? So I brought you back to my dad and I’s apartment where no one will see you. You kinda lost it back there…”  the boy said. She groaned.

“Great, just great. I can’t wait to see my breakdown broadcasted through the whole goddamn city, that’ll be great,” she muttered. Ethan sighed.

“You really need to rest. Here, drink some water.” he handed her a glass and she reluctantly took it, taking small sips despite her growing thirst.

“Why are you helping me? I’m a stranger, and a known serial killer, I could very well try and kill you. That was not smart planning on your end,” she said, raising a brow at him with a small frown.

“You didn’t seem well, and like I said, your secret identity. They would’ve broadcasted it everywhere, and I don’t think you want that kind of attention,” he explained. “Also, I think if you were going to kill me, you wouldn’t have told me all of that,” he said. She scowled at him.

“True, I wouldn’t have. Stupid brain,” she flicked his forehead and he laughed.

“You look exhausted, Reaper. Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked and she shook her head.

“Probably not. Also, again, I’m a stranger in your house. I don’t think you want me here very long,” she said, and a thought struck her like lightning, making her gut twist and her heart plummet as panic shot through her. “You know who I am,” she said and he looked away guiltily.

“Well, yeah,” he admitted. She scooted away from him with wide eyes.

“How did you know? How did you find out? Were you stalking me?!” she snapped and he shook his head, his eyes wide and terrified.

“No! It’s… it’s hard to explain. I’m not sure you’ll believe me,” he said and she nodded.

“Oh I see, so you’re another person visited by Death then, huh?” she said and he paused, his mouth agape.

“I...not Death, though I guess that’s who visited you. I had a dream about Life. It was extremely terrifying,” he said and raised a brow.

“Really? Mine was really soft and actually really nice, which was how I knew it wasn’t real. My dreams are never nice, just… weird. Or nightmares,” she said.

“No fair! You had a nice dream and I had a scary dream?” he protested and she laughed, her throat raw still.

“Hey, I have nightmares constantly now, it’s only fair,” she said. He crossed his arms and scowled.

“Still no fair,” he said and she shrugged.

“Oh well, sucks for you,” she said, and yawned. Cursed after crying sleepiness.

“Hey, we have a spare bedroom and my mom has some clothes that would probably fit you. Wanna shower and get some sleep?” he asked, looking down with a light blush on his face.

“Long as you don’t try and peep when I’m in the shower,” she teased and he scowled at her, his face still red and she smirked.

“I hate you,” he muttered and she laughed.

“Whatever!”

It was broadcasted on every channel several times a day. The tears, the look of fear, her falling to the ground twitching uncontrollably. It almost looked like she was having a seizure. She also ran into Robert again; he was very friendly and hugged her despite her saying he shouldn’t (it was very nice to be hugged). She knew she couldn’t tell him everything, but they did talk about life while drinking coffee together, and she decided his friendship was worth it. He was nice, and he understood her struggle with a lot of aspects of her life. High expectations that crushed her, the fear of coming out to anyone, the need to help others that left her almost completely destroyed in the process. He got it; he got all of it. She kept her other side secret, though. She didn’t want to risk it.

The city was starting to get used to having a vigilante. Most people regarded her with disgust mixed with fear, which fine okay, she guessed that was fair; she did murder people. But did they really need to shout hateful things at her whenever she passed by? It was the same thing when she was just Lily; if she went anywhere people yelled at her to get her ‘useless homeless garbage’ out of wherever she was. It ate at her, even though she didn’t want it to. She couldn’t even remember a night lately where she didn’t cry herself to sleep. Was this all there was for her? Was this her fate? Was she meant to slowly tear herself apart? She didn’t know. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. There had to be a way to get out of this. Right?

Ethan was starting to pop up on the news too. He bore no marks like she did- he did, however, had eyes that changed colors, as well as his hair. It was strange to watch; one minute he was himself, and the next, a white hair boy with yellow eyes was there, smiling softly at a sick little girl he wanted to heal. The city loved him; he had been dubbed the city’s angel, which he kept. They didn’t understand their pairing; why would someone like him want to work with someone like her?

She found herself often wondering the same thing. Whatever his reason, he stayed. He stayed and watched and grew and laughed and smiled and the pair grew closer and closer. After all, they were the only people they could tell everything too; they both knew who they were, so what was the point of hiding? He had already seen the worst of her; he’d seen her kill someone at this point. He stayed nonetheless.

She missed her family, though. She wished more than anything that she could go see them. She wanted to see her little sister; the big smile she always had when she walked through the front door, the songs they would sing while dancing around the kitchen, the nights where hugs would seem to last forever because she was afraid to fall asleep. Her little sister meant the world to her. It was one of the reasons she knew she had to leave in the first place. She couldn’t risk her little sister getting hurt, not even for a second. She didn’t deserve that; she was so young, she had a whole life ahead of her. How could she ever take that away? She knew her protectiveness over her sister was more than just blood; if she was being honest with herself, she was protective over every child she came across. It was something that had always been a part of her; this need to protect the young and vulnerable. People did so much that hurt their kids, and sometimes they don’t even know what they’re doing is hurting them. She had made it a point to go after anyone who could even possibly be a child abuser; she did as thorough of background checks as she could, and when she was sure, she would swoop in and save the day. As much as she’d didn’t want to hand them over to the POCA (Protect Our Children Agency), she didn’t really have a choice for them; either stay in an abusive environment, or gamble either going into a safer one or being trapped in a different abusive environment.

Oh, to be able to control where they went. All she ever wanted was to keep them safe; was that too much to ask for?

Ethan liked when they went and helped the abused kids too; he liked playing with the kids and healing them completely probably for the first time in their whole lives. Their eyes were always so wide and hopeful; as if all the kindness in the world were in his eyes. It almost seemed like it was; no matter what she did she could never even hope to spread as much love and kindness as he had. At first she was a little bitter about it; she had been working her whole life to help people, and she’d been given the cruelest and awfulest powers in existence. He hadn’t had to do anything and bam! He was blessed with the power to heal people. How was that fair? But the more they worked together the more she was grateful he did have it in the first place; that she was able to have a partner who cared so much about other people. He made it easier to bear the cruel words that the world threw at her; he made her feel as if she were made of diamonds, because more than anything, he cared about her, and how she felt. He got angry when people would throw insults at her, because he saw everything about her; the fear, the pride, the hurt, the smiles, the jokes, the tears. He had seen her soar through the sky with the biggest smile on her face as they rescued the cutest little girl from her creepy uncle, and he had seen her cry because they had come too late to save a mother from her abusive husband. He saw the heart that had broken inside of her; and he had decided that it was worth fighting for. She couldn’t understand why; she certainly didn’t believe she deserved his kindness. She, in her own mind, was a monster; a killer, a thief, a selfish teenage girl who didn’t know what she was doing. Why would he ever want to befriend someone like her? Yet he did it anyway; he did it because he wanted to, even despite that they were supposed to be partners anyway.

“Reaper, you have the ‘I’m deep in thought’ face on. What are you thinking about?” Ethan asked, appearing at her side with a warm smile. It was a quiet night in the city of Antibella; it was the Starlight festival, so the city had shut off all the big lights so everyone could see the stars and dance around with each other. It was a tradition in most cities, based off of the god they believed was made of stars. She personally didn’t believe in any gods, but the festival was fun, and she had always had a love of the stars. They were untouchable, unbreakable; like diamonds glittering in a vast sea of darkness.

She giggled. Okay, maybe she did believe in Life and Death, but only because she and Ethan had spoken to them. Speaking of Ethan…

“The festival. Our friendship. How I was destined to be the villain of the city. The usual,” she said, giving him a sideways smile before looking up at the sky. Looking up at the stars had always filled her with this intense sense of wonder; she was surrounded by glittering orbs of pure magic, pulling her into a world that was far, far away from the twisted one she lived in. They made her feel like she was flying even when her feet were stuck on the ground. They gently tugged her soul upwards until she was dancing among them, the noise of the world behind her, long gone. It made her feel unreal, untouchable; as if she were made of light and she could soar away with them.

“You’re not a villain, Lily,” Ethan said, pulling her back to reality. He was frowning at her with concerned eyes. She snorted.

“Course I am. Nightmare vigilante girl and angel boy, that’s how the world sees it. I’m the villain in your story; they think I fight against you,” she said.

“But you aren’t,” he said, slightly exasperated.

“I know I’m not fighting against you. I am, however, ruining your reputation and annoying the hell out of you, wow I haven’t seen that look in a long time,” she joked as he glared at her.

“You’re such a pain in the ass,” he muttered and she laughed.

“I’m pretty sure that’s my job. A professional pain in the ass,” she joked and he shoved her playfully.

“Why do I even try and have serious conversations with you?” he asked her. She shrugged.

“I have no idea, all I have to say is a bunch of weird shit,” she admitted with a grin. He whacked her over the head playfully and she laughed.

“You are seriously annoying sometimes,” he muttered and she giggled.

“Why thank you, I try very hard to be annoying,” she said, bowing. He rolled his eyes as she laughed, her chest loosening as the tension from their last mission started to lift. It had been particularly hard to get through; she had nearly killed the man on sight when they walked in she was so angry. He had been standing over the little girl holding a fucking gun. She was so angry Ethan almost hadn’t been able to stop her and offer him jail time instead of death, like they had decided to do before using her powers. He had, of course, tried to run, and she had to kill him; unfortunately, he still got the girl. The pain in her eyes, mixed with fear, and blood dripping from her head as she lied on the ground, still and lifeless. She was dead so quick not even Ethan could have saved her. And the worst part was her eyes had looked so much like her sister’s it was almost like watching her little sister die. She couldn’t sleep at all the night afterward; she saw her body on the ground, soaked in blood whenever she closed her eyes.

“Oh, I know that face. You’re sad,” Ethan said and she scowled at him.

“Oh, you’re a face reader now, hm?” she said. He rolled his eyes.

“Just yours, you dummy. We’re together almost all day most days a week. By the way, my dad wanted to know when you’re gonna be willing to do a reading again for the kids, they really liked it,” he said.

“The next time I get to take a shower,” she said, running a hand through her hair. They both were in their normal clothes, leaving her feeling vulnerable and small. It also meant she had no marks or flashy clothes to distract people from the layer of dirt that always covered her skin, or the deep rings under her eyes, or her oily hair and fingernails that always had dirt under them. Every flaw, every mistake, everything was visible, right down to the very last blemish on her face.

“You know my apartment is always open to you, my dad loves you,” he said and she chuckled.

“I’m pretty sure you’re dad is convinced we’re going to get married one day,” she pointed out. He snorted.

“I’m surprised he hasn’t already started planning it,” he joked and she laughed.

“Bold of you to assume he hasn’t asked what kind of flowers I want for the wedding,” she said and gave her an incredulous look.

“You’re kidding,” he said and she giggled.

“No, I’m completely serious,” she said and Ethan flushed and looked away. She laughed. “Robert’s gonna be one of my bridesmaids,” she said and Ethan snorted.

“You think you can get him in a dress?” he asked.

“Piece of cake. I think the real issue would be getting him out of it. He’s gonna embarrass his boyfriend so much, it’ll be awesome,” she said and Ethan laughed.

“So at our nonexistent wedding we’re gonna have a man dressed in drag and roses? How nice,” he said and she laughed.

“How do you know I picked roses?” she said, crossing her arms with a smirk.

“They’re your favorite flower,” he pointed out and groaned.

“Alright, you have a point. I did say roses,” she admitted and he smirked.

“Victory is mine!” he shouted and she laughed.

“Whatever, Ethan,” she said. He chuckled and threw his arm around her, pulling her to his side while he looked up at the stars. She smiled and gently leaned her head against his, enjoying the safety of being by his side. She didn’t remember when it happened; they hadn’t even said it out loud, but they had both sworn to be there for each other no matter what, and that in turn led to their affection for each other growing. Maybe it was because he was the only person she could be completely honest with; he knew almost everything about her, besides her past. But her affections for him were starting to be more than platonic, which scared her a little bit, but it was also welcomed; it was so rare for her to feel anything like this. Why should she pass it up?

It was only a headline. One headline, among thousands in the world, that was it. But it was all she needed to see to know; it was all she needed to go running home, because she knew that face. She knew those eyes like she knew her own name. It was her; the only person she knew she truly cared about, the only person she knew she would go to the ends of the earth for. But what had happened? Why was she on the news?

She fell to her knees with a sob in the back of her throat; she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t breathe this was all her fault. Why was her little sister on the news? Why was the picture so bloody? What had her sister been doing?!

People were screaming all around her as she ran, sensing the anger and fear radiating off of her with her powers. It had been a while since they had activated on their own; her emotions hadn’t been strong like this for them to just pop up. But she couldn’t help it; everything hurt, but she couldn’t feel. She wasn’t even sure where she was going; there was some invisible force pulling her forward, leading her back to where she belonged. She wasn’t sure she wanted to see what would be waiting for her when she got there.

Her lungs ached and her legs were starting to give way underneath her. There was still many more miles to go; she still needed to get home, to see her, to save her.

Ethan.

She needed Ethan

How could she be so stupid? Ethan could save her. She needed a phone. She needed a way to get back to Antibella.

The first car she flagged down pulled over and offered her a ride, their hands shaking as she climbed in the car. It was clear they knew who she was; she could see the fear in their eyes. But now was not the time to worry about her reputation. She had to save her sister.

“Ethan!” she shouted, banging on his front door frantically. There was some shuffling around and his dad opened the door with a very surprised expression.

“Lily, what are you-” he started before she cut him off.

“I need to speak with Ethan, please. It’s an emergency,” she begged, leaning heavily on the doorframe as her body started to shut down. He nodded and let her inside, not questioning her any further. Ethan came running in almost immediately, his brows creased in concern.

“Lily, what-” he started to say.

“Not now! We have to go, now! Ethan I’m so scared I don’t want her to die. I need to get home and see her,” she cried, grabbing onto his shoulders desperately as tears built up in her eyes. He blinked in surprise and brushed some hair out of her eyes, gently cupping her cheek, whispering soft soothing things to help her calm down.

She pulled away. She didn’t want to calm down. She wanted to go home. She wanted to see her little sister.

“Ethan, you don’t understand,” she sobbed. He blinked in surprise but got quiet, waiting for her to explain. “My little sister, she was on the news something happened and she looked so bloody and pale and I’m afraid she’s going to die and I can’t let that happen Ethan she means everything to me I can’t let her die,” she said, her voice growing more and more desperate as she spoke. What if she was already gone? What if it was too late? What if she was already gone and it was all her fault?

“Dad, I need the keys,” Ethan said, not breaking eye contact with her. His dad frowned.

“Why? Where are you going?” his dad asked, sounding concerned.

“Lily has a family emergency, someone could die. I need to get her there,” Ethan said, his voice sharp, as if he was holding back his emotions. His dad thought for a minute.

“Alright,” he finally said, tossing Ethan a pair of keys. “But you need to come right back when it’s over,” he said. Ethan nodded and helped her stand, walking towards the door.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice scratchy from her raw throat.

“Anything for you, Lily,” he said, leading her to the stairs. She sighed.

“That’s not my name,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. He gave her a confused look.

“What’s your name then? Lillian?” he asked and she shook her head.

“No, it’s not anything like that. Ethan, my name is Alexis. I gave you a fake name just in case your dad or you wanted to turn me in. But if you’re going to meet my family you might as well know my real name, right?” she said. He nodded.

“It would be awkward for me to keep calling you Lily in front of your family,” he agreed, catching her as she tripped on the last step. “Careful, Alexis. Jesus Christ, you look like you haven’t slept in weeks,” he said.

“I haven’t, not really,” she said. He frowned.

“Why not?” he asked, sounding angry.

“Nightmares. Everytime I close my eyes I see corpses,” she said, leaning on the side of the car as he unlocked it. She settled herself inside and buckled her seatbelt, waiting for his response.

“That’s not normal, Lexi,” he said. Her heart fluttered at the nickname, but it was drowned out by her exhaustion and emotional pain.

“I know that, Ethan. But there’s not really anything I can do about it. My mind feels like it's tearing myself apart all the time, I don’t have a second to breathe or even think. It feels like I’m here but I’m not, like I’ve got one foot in reality and the other in my own mind, and I can’t get out. I’m stuck, Ethan, and I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. My little sister is the last good thing in my life, I need her to be okay. She’s the reason I kept going, you know. I wanted to give up. I wanted to give up so bad. I could’ve jumped off a building and ended all of this shit, and everyone could move on without me. I wanted to jump. I was so close to doing it too; do you know how many times I stood right on the edge and thought about how far I would have to fall to die? I don’t even know how many times I’ve done it I did it so often. But the idea that I could go back and see my sister one day, knowing that I was doing something that would make her world safer, kept me moving forward, even when I made a mistake. I’m a fucking monster, Ethan, and I know it. I know it’s not fucking normal to want to take a knife to your wrists to feel something. I know it’s not normal to see dead bodies in your sleep. I know it’s not normal to lead a life like this. None of my life has been fucking normal since I got these powers, Ethan. I didn’t have a power that made it safe to be home with my family. My power is fucking dangerous, I could have killed one of them,” she snapped, feeling tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Lexi, don’t you think I know-”

“How the fuck could you know anything about how I’m feeling? About the shit I’ve been going through? About all the things I’ve lost from having to deal with these stupid powers? I didn’t get to stay home where I’m safe and have food and water everyday. I sleep on the ground with a ripped pillow and no blanket in an abandoned building, Ethan. I go days without food and water; I’ve almost died from dehydration several times. And do you know how many creepy guys have tried to follow me? Because I’m a fucking homeless teenage girl and they know I can’t fucking defend myself and no one will care if I get hurt. Do you have to live with the fact that you kill people? That you destroy people’s fucking lives by doing what you do? Don’t you think I notice all the glares and whispers and anti-Reaper shit that goes around? I’ve gotten so many fucking death threats that I don’t think there’s a single person in this city who hasn’t sent me one, and then some. I haven’t slept well since I left home; that was fucking months ago. I haven’t felt clean in ages, Ethan. I didn’t talk to almost anyone for at least two months at one point because I was so fucking afraid of being around people. I’m fucking lonely, Ethan. And tired. I’m so fucking tired of trying to exist when I feel like I’ve lost my sanity. I…” she buried her face in her hands.

“I’m so fucking tired of trying to live like this,” she sobbed, her entire body trembling as it struggled to deal with the overwhelming emotions in her head. She wasn’t sure what she was feeling anymore; all she knew was that it hurt. She wanted to be done already. She wanted to be better than this. She was supposed to be the strong one; she was supposed to be a leader, a hero, a symbol of strength and courage and justice. But all she was was an emotional wreck, a hurricane of emotion trapped in the fragile body of a young girl. She was just a kid; how could she have even thought for a moment she could do this? How could anyone think she could?

She should’ve just ended it on that first night. The world would have been better off without her trying to fix it.

Ethan didn’t say anything for a long time. What was there to say? She had dumped everything on him all at once, and it was a lot. A part of her felt very guilty; he didn’t need to have to deal with the fucking disaster of what she was. The other half of her was telling that part to shut up, because she’d been hurting , and she just wanted out, she couldn’ keep it inside forever. She deserved to have someone listen, she’d been through hell. The guilty part of her scolded her for being selfish, Ethan didn’t need to deal with her shit, he was already dealing with his own shit. She’d heard about his complicated home life, his mom always off working on cruise ships, which was good money so Ethan was comfortable, but lonely. He missed his mom, which they had talked about. They both missed their families, so much it ached deeply in both of them.

“Lexi, when you said you were struggling, you never told me it was that bad…” Ethan finally said, his voice soft. She shook her head, trying to calm down enough to respond.

“I didn’t want to dump all my problems on you, you’re already dealing with your own stuff,” she managed to choke out in between sobs. He sighed.

“I still wish you would have told me sooner. You don’t deserve that,” he said and she shot up and scowled.

“Yes I fucking do. I kill people, Ethan. How the fuck can you think someone like me deserves anything?” she snapped, and her head screamed at her. You just want attention, you little attention whore. You don’t really think that, all you want is to be comfortable. So fucking selfish. You really think you’ve still got good in you? After what you’ve done? You don’t deserve his kindness.

“I know you kill people. Because that’s your job. Death made you do this, remember? They probably would have forced you to use your powers at some point. You need to cut yourself some slack,” he said. She sobbed again, wanting to claw her way out of her skin because this was too much. Everything was too much she couldn't stop feeling and it was tearing her apart.

“I’m so fucking tired, I just want some goddamn rest,” she sobbed. He reached over with one hand and started gently rubbing her back, but she shoved his hand away. She didn’t want to be touched; she wanted to be alone, she wanted to exist without worry, having to exist in front of another person was driving her mad, she wanted to be alone. Maybe she could finally end it all that way.

Her house. That was her house. She was home.

She ran out of the car and knocked on the door frantically. Movement around the house, one voice shouting to the other, and someone opened the door.

Her mom.

She couldn’t move.

She couldn’t speak.

She couldn’t breathe.

After months, there she was, those same blue eyes that matched her own, blonde hair in a messy bun, a shade lighter than her own. Her mom was crying now, just like she was. There were arms around her and she just broke. She held onto her mom as if she were a lifeline, and her mom hugged her with equal intensity. She was worriedly rambling and scolding her, tears landing on her shoulder. She didn’t care, though. She had missed her mother, she had missed her so bad and she hadn’t even known it until she was being held by her again, by having her whispering soothing things in her ear as they stood in the doorway into the house. Another pair of arms wrapped around them. Her dad; she had never seen him cry before. They kept whispering how much they had missed her, how much they loved her, how glad they were she was back. She was melting, breaking, suddenly more alive then she had been before. They cared, they had always cared, and they still care. For a moment, just a moment, she was just a kid; she was their kid, and that’s all that mattered to them, and it was all she had wanted.

But she had to tell them. She had to tell them everything. She didn’t know if they’d still love her after that.

“Momma,” she sniffled, lifting her head. Her mom pulled back slightly to look into her eyes. “Where is she?” she whispered. Her mom quietly explained what had happened, and she felt her heart twist inside her chest. It really had been her fault; her sister had gone looking for her by herself and got caught in the crossfire of a gang war. She was in the hospital, which they agreed to take her to. They could tell she would’ve kept pressing them until they said yes.

She couldn’t do it. She was standing right outside the door, her hand on the handle, but she couldn’t turn it; her little sister was only going to see the monster she’d become. She couldn’t let her sister see her like this.

“Go in,” Ethan whispered, a gentle hand on her shoulder. She took a deep breath in, and turned the doorknob.

She had never seen her little sister’s light up so much before. The second she walked in her little sister was talking; talking about how much she had missed her, about what she’d missed at home when she was away, about where they’d looked for her, about how people from her school kept asking where she was. Despite herself, she found herself crying again, more softly though, as she walked towards her little sister, her hand trembling as she reached for her. She gently brushed a strand of hair out of her sister’s eyes, her body feeling as if it were hollow, as if all her insides were made of clouds. All of the background noise faded into nothing as she stared into her little sister’s eyes; eyes full of life, full of wonder, full of hope, and full of love. There was so much love in her sister's eyes, it made her want to hide her away so the world could never take it away, so it couldn’t break her sister like it had broken her.

“I missed you too,” she whispered, sitting on the edge of her sister’s bed and giving her a soft kiss on her forehead. Her sister giggled and opened her arms. Carefully, as if she were made of glass, she pulled her sister into her arms, cradling her as if she were made of precious diamonds. Her sister’s small body fit perfectly in her arms as her small arms wrapped around her, reminding her just how young and precious she was.

“Lexi, where did you go?” her sister asked, her voice small, oh so small, it made her heart ache. She had made her like this; her fault, her fault, all her fault. The guilt was eating at her; it made her want to throw up to rid herself of the sick feeling in her stomach, but she didn’t.

“I went to the city. You remember Antibella, right? We went there two years ago,” she said, rubbing gentle circles into her little sister’s back.

“Why did you go away?” her little sister asked, her voice full of hurt. She winced at the tone. How could she even begin to possibly explain this to her little sister? How could she ever tell her what she had done?

“Have you ever heard of The Reaper?” she asked her sister. She nodded, her face still buried in her chest. Her sister didn’t seem to want to move, even though she was probably still covered in sweat and other grime she had gained from her stay in the city. “Well, that was me,” she explained, trying to keep her voice light so she wouldn’t scare her sister.

“That was you?” her sister asked.

“Unfortunately,” she joked, though it was true. She didn’t want to be The Reaper; she just wanted to be a teenager.

“Was it scary,” her sister asked.

“Very scary,” she admitted.

“Did you beat up bad guys?” her sister asked, sounding a little in awe. She chuckled, feeling happy tears start to fall.

“I think so,” she said. Her sister snuggled closer, pressing her entire body against hers.

“I really, really missed you,” her sister whispered. And in that moment, nothing else in the whole world; the only thing that mattered was her little sister in her arms, safe and sound. Everything was okay.

She’d never been to a therapist before. She didn’t know exactly what to expect; would they be cold? Emotional? Young? Old? Would they hate her? She was afraid her therapist would see who she was and turn her away, because why would someone like her deserve to get better? Why would she ever deserve to get help?

“Alexis,” her therapist greeted, her brown eyes warm and kind. Her skin was like dark chocolate, and her hair was a little all over the place. She had big chunky glasses, and her clothing reminded her of the gypsies, which was actually really cool. She was a very beautiful woman.

“Hello Dr. Maria,” she greeted, letting herself smile. Even after all this time it was a natural reaction; new person, bright smile. She knew it would fade soon, but she let it stay for now.

“Come sit down! We have so much to talk about!” Dr. Maria said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She walked inside the office, which was decorated with paintings and drawings clearly made by her. All the furniture was orange, the same color of the walls, and it made the room feel very warm. She was grateful it wasn’t stark white, which was what she expected from someone who was a doctor.

“Like what?” she asked as she hopped onto the orange couch, which was surprisingly soft.

“Like what music you like! Your mom said you like music, yes?” Dr. Maria asked, making herself busy by searching through all her drawers.

“Um, yeah,” she admitted.

They talked about music for half an hour after that, about different genres and where they came from and what they meant, music artists that meant a lot to them and why they meant so much, what songs they liked meant and what it could say about them. It was fun to be able to talk to someone about something so passionately; it was rare to meet someone who cared as much as she did.

“Now, I hope you don’t mind me asking, I know we just met today, but would you mind sharing what exactly happened when you were out in the city by yourself? You can withhold any details you’re not comfortable sharing,” Dr. Maris said.

And so she did. She told Dr. Maria everything; if she hated her in the end, then she would simply hate her; there was nothing she could do to change that. Dr. Maria listened intently to every word; she didn’t stop her, not when she got angry or started sobbing or when she was embarrassed. It made it so much easier to tell her everything when she didn’t freak out over everything like her mom had. And when she was done, she did feel a little lighter. Dr. Maria didn’t even look like she hated her.

“Alexis, I’m gonna be straight with you,” Dr. Maria started.

“At least one of us is being straight,” she muttered and Dr. Marie barked a laugh.

“Alright, hush you,” Dr. Maria said fondly. “What I was going to say was that was some of the craziest shit I have ever listened to,” she said and she burst out laughing.

“It really is, isn’t it?” she said, still giggling.

“How the fuck are you still alive you funky little human?” Dr. Maria exclaimed and she was back to laughing, unable to contain her joy.

“I’m just lucky I guess,” she finally said, calming down a little.

“Okay, so I’m just gonna go out on a limb here and say you have depression, PTSD, and EUPD,” Dr. Maria said. She blinked.

“I’ve heard of the first two, but what the heck is that last one?” she asked.

“Emotionally Unstable Personality Disorder,” Dr. Maria explained.

“What,” she deadpanned.

“You’re emotionally unstable, have an issue with dealing with anxiety, and you have a pattern of self destructive behavior. Have you listened to half the things you’ve done? You’re not kind to yourself,” Dr. Maria said. She sighed.

“You’re right. I feel like I’m a ticking time bomb. One thing sets me off then boom!” she mocked an explosion with her hands. “I have a mental breakdown!” she sighed again.

“Well, the good news is that there’s something we can do to help with the majority of the problems you’re experiencing,” Dr. Maria said.

“Really? I can get better?” she asked and Dr. Maria chuckled.

“It’s not really getting better, Alexis. It’s about learning to live with what you’ve got, about being able to move forward with your life. I know with your predicament it will be difficult, especially if you are going to continue doing what you’re doing, but with help, you’re gonna be able to breathe again,” Dr. Maria said. She smiled, feeling hopeful for the first time in months.

“I hope so. I really, really hope so.”

This is my original story, all the characters and the story belong to me!!!