#the rent won’t pay itself

[marshmellodragon]

Yokohama in Bungou Stray Dogs is like New York in Marvel. I don’t think I need to elaborate more.

-<3-

Just in case I do need to elaborate: (Cause the Detective Agency / Port Mafia and Avengers living in the middle of their respective cities wasn’t enough):

Some random citizen in New York: So Hulk threw my car at some alien again, sorry I couldn’t make it to the meeting on time.

Boss: Well we only allow 3 Avengers related absences and after this you only have 1 left, so be careful.

Citizen: I did make it to the meeting, I was just late-

Boss: Only 1.

Citizen: *in a low whisper* I hate this city.

-<3-

Also some random citizen in Yokohama: Yeah so Chuuya smashed my whole apartment building during the Shibusawa attack. I am homeless now so uhh, can I crash at your place?

Friend: Dude the whole city got trashed, we’re all homeless.

Citizen: God I hate this city.

[tmorrowlnd]

being permanently in my student overdraft bc of a massive rent instalment being due the same day i get my student finance…. mental damage

[murdrdocs]

always has been, always will be

description. it was only a matter of time before you realized how hard you've fallen for your roommate.

includes. roommate!tyler owens, so much fluff, pining, appearance of reader's ex, protective tyler, sexual tension, copious amounts of pet names, minor display of anxiety, drinking,

wc. 3.5k+

a/n: before you ask, i am not opposed to a part two. no promises.

You’re jolted out of a deep, and much-needed, sleep by the sound of bowls crashing onto the floor. You lay there for a second, trying to listen for any other sound while calming your racing heart. When nothing else comes, you grab your phone from the nightstand and through squinty eyes start to check locations. 

Your parents are home, your best friend is at work, and there—Tyler Owens, 0 miles away. His contact, the cartoonish drawing of him usually seen on a tee shirt, hovers right above the blue dot that represents you. 

The giddiness that instantly floods your body is embarrassing. It pulls you out of bed, somehow being the only thing to convince you to wake up on your day off, and drags your feet into the kitchen. You don’t bother checking your appearance on the way out, Tyler has seen you through your worst since he nursed you back to health during flu season, and he’s seen you first thing in the morning many times before. 

But when he lifts his head from behind a cabinet at the sound of your slippers dragging against the floor, the shock on his face momentarily scares you. Do you look like absolute shit?

It’s not until Tyler grins, luckily a split second later, that you relax. 

“Sorry,” he says, looking back into the cabinet and closing it with three ingredients in his hand. “Butter fingers.”

You yawn, walking into the kitchen and sitting at the island. “‘s okay. When did you get back? I thought y’all were gonna be in Missouri for a few more days.”

Tyler brings the ingredients to the island, settling them down in front of you on the other side. It’s then that you realize what he’s making. Brioche bread that’s about to expire, sugar, eggs, milk, cinnamon, a tub of fruit that definitely wasn’t in your fridge. 

The memory of the taste of Tyler’s French toast makes itself familiar at the tip of your tongue without your permission. 

“We were, but then Boone got a tip that there would be some action happening right back here,” he cracks the egg into one of your mixing bowls, “so here we are.”

Home. Tyler’s back home for the first time in weeks. He won’t be here for long, but that’s okay. It’s the deal you initially wanted whenever you talked to Tyler with interest in him being your roommate. 

It was nearly a year ago now, right at the end of peak tornado season of last year. Tyler had been in Arkansas doing what he usually did, wrangling tornadoes with the others with him. You knew who he was, it was impossible not to, especially living right outside of his hometown. But you had never crossed paths, not until your sweet, but meddling, grandmother—bless her heart—told you that the grandson of her Bingo partner was looking for a place to stay. Permanently. Or, as permanent as a home for a storm chaser could be. 

You were desperate, struggling financially and emotionally with a still-fresh breakup weighing on your mind. So when Tyler Owens swooped in with a brunch recommendation, promises to pay his half of the rent on time, and explanations that he would rarely be home during summer months, you jumped on the deal. 

You should’ve known that you would’ve developed a small crush on him, but that’s all it is. A small crush on a guy who was sweet enough to make you breakfast since he dropped in. It would surely go away soon enough. 

“How long are you staying for?” You’re already preparing yourself for heartbreak when you ask the question. Initially, you liked the idea of having your house all to yourself. All of the freedom, half of the financial responsibility. 

But when you and Tyler grew closer, you started to hate the summer. 

“Um…” he hesitates, adding copious amounts of cinnamon into the mixture while he drags the word out. Is he stalling? “A couple days. Maybe three?”

You try to hide your disappointment but Tyler is already trying to make you feel better. 

He looks up, mouth broken into a wide smile that shows his white teeth. “But I’m here to make it worth your while. Breakfast, I’ll take you wrangling with us if you’d like, and then Betsy’s on me. Yeah?”

The promise of quality time and fattening barbecue was enough to brighten your mood. 

“Yeah.”

You knew you weren’t particularly fond of storm chasing, but you found yourself with the others anyway. And after an EF-0 where you prayed and clutched the harness strapped across your chest and Tyler’s hand across the console, you swore to yourself—and mostly Tyler—that you would never do it again. Even though the joy from the others was infectious and you found yourself giggling with Tyler when it was all over. 

Tyler quickly made it up to you, though. He called it a day earlier than you thought he would. You knew he did it on your behalf, but he pretended like it was a strategic decision. 

“Most of the action will be tomorrow anyway.” 

And he was probably telling the truth, but you saw the shock in Boone’s eyes as Tyler told the others that the two of you were going to split off for Betsy’s just when the day was getting started. He ditched the others for you, and it made your heart flutter. 

The two of you end up in a familiar place, seated in the back corner booth of Betsy’s. You’re nestled up against the window, wearing the sweatshirt you left in Tyler’s car months ago. You’re shocked he still had it, but he assured you that he would never give it away. And if he did, he would’ve given you a Tornado Wrangler one for free to make up for it. 

“Tell me what you’ve been up to while I was gone.”

You tear your eyes away from the window to look at Tyler. You shouldn’t be shocked that he was already looking at you, he was speaking to you, but something about the way he looks at you will always make your heartbeat a little extra hard for a moment. 

You hum, lifting your eyes and thinking. There’s nothing you’ve been doing other than trying to keep sane.

“There were a few weeks there where I almost bought a dog.”

Tyler’s eyebrows raise but he doesn’t seem opposed to the idea. “Really?” he asks. 

You nod, reaching out to take a sip from your drink. “Yeah. Someone in town had rescued a puppy and he was just calling my name.”

“What would you have named him?”

You hesitate, trying to keep the embarrassment from finding your face as you fix your lips to tell Tyler the truth. “...Wrangler.”

He grins and you’re already trying to do damage control. Tyler beats you to it. 

“You missed me that much? C’mon, sugar.”

The pet name almost slips by you in your haste. Almost. 

“That wouldn’t even have been why! You’re so full of yourself, Ty.”

“You make it so easy. Don’t blame me.”

Your laughter refuses to subside even when the waiter comes to check on you both. Tyler manages to tell her that everything’s fine, while also smoothly ordering your favorite slice of pie. You didn’t even have to ask for it. He just knew. 

By the time the order’s placed, you’ve calmed down a bit, taking small sips of water in an attempt to calm down the heat in your body. 

“A German shepherd…” He nods to himself. “Loyal. Intelligent. Good search and rescue dogs. I bet Wrangler would’ve been a good addition to the house. Someone to keep you company while I’m gone.”

You try to pretend that’s not the exact reason why you wanted a dog in the first place. “And I would’ve taught him to chew on the bottom of all your jeans.”

“Well, luckily I like the rugged look.” A second goes by. “What else were you doing?”

You shake your head, your way of telling him that’s it. 

“He didn’t come by again, did he?”

A painful kick meets your insides at the mention of your ex. You knew Tyler would’ve asked you about Beau since the breakup is what allowed Tyler to move in in the first place. He hadn’t ever mentioned him before, not until Beau showed up drunk one night and demanded you let him back in. It was a terrifying and embarrassing moment for you, but it also started the bond between you and Tyler. 

Unfortunately, if it weren’t for that night, you and Tyler would’ve never been as close as you are today. He wouldn’t have even known your pie order and you probably would’ve had a year-old dog for companionship by now. 

“No. I haven’t seen him since that night.”

Tyler nods, grinning up at the waiter as she brings your pie and Tyler’s banana pudding over. 

“That’s good. And the security system works well on the house, right?”

You nod in a response, sticking your fork into your pie. 

“I’ve been checking in periodically when I’m on the road. Testing the cameras. You’re giving the tomatoes too much water, by the way.”

You’re instantly on the defensive, abandoning the next perfect piece of pie that you’d just separated for yourself. Your eyes lift, settling on Tyler, but quickly you glance behind him, and shit. 

He’s here. 

Your face must drop or something because Tyler instantly sees that something is different. He quietly asks you what’s wrong, the same tone he uses whenever you’re sick smoothing over his words, but when you don’t answer, he turns around and looks for himself. 

He swears, already turning back around. “Do you wanna leave? If you go ahead out to the truck I can cover the check. Here, pull your hood up, and you can wear my hat—”

You shake your head, staring right back at Tyler and ignoring the pull that tries to get you to look at Beau. “No. Let’s finish our dessert.”

Tyler blinks, his lips parted. You can tell he wants to ask if you’re sure, but he doesn’t. He takes a second, staring at you, and then he sits back, clears his throat, and dips his spoon into his banana pudding. 

Your heart speeds up until it’s painful in your chest. You worry for a second, image after image of everything that could go wrong flooding your mind. Tears sting your eyes but you try to sniff them away, busying yourself with dividing your pie up into pieces that you don’t even attempt to eat. 

“Honey,” Tyler says, “eat your pie.”

You feed yourself a bite and are instantly reminded of you why like it so much. 

Tyler continues to talk to you about the garden, telling you that the conditions this summer weren’t really living up to last summer so the lackluster harvest from your tomatoes wasn’t necessarily you’re fault, but the entire time you’re simply praying that Beau will leave before he notices you. 

You glance his way multiple times, staring at the side of him as he stands at the bar, likely waiting on a to-go order. Briefly, you can’t help but miss him and the way he would always pick up dinner here on Sundays. 

It’s a Friday. 

You wonder what else about his routine has changed.

Tyler continues. “There might be better conditions leading into the Fall but truly, I doubt it. It might just be time to say goodbye to the garden for now…”

You nod, mindlessly eating pie while Beau grabs his bag and turns around. You should’ve looked down or at Tyler because as soon as he turns, he looks at you. 

He lingers for a second, staring, and you do the same. Beau smiles, tight and friendly, and lifts a hand in a wave. 

You do the exact same, not giving more energy even though something in you wants him to come over and speak to you. 

Quicker than you can realize, Tyler turns around and throws up two fingers in a wave to Beau. Beau leaves not long afterward, and you can’t help but wonder if he thinks you and Tyler are dating now. 

The idea is appealing. 

“Why does it always take you so long to get out of the car?”

“You don’t have to wait, just go inside.”

“Now that wouldn’t be very chivalrous, would it?”

“Thought chivalry was dead.”

Tyler scoffs as if you’ve offended him. “As long as I’m alive it sure ain’t.”

You purse your lips to fight off a smile. “You sound like Boone.”

“He’s my brother from another mother for a reason.”

Their twin-like synchronization will always be equal parts weird and admirable. 

Tyler watches you struggle to put your boot on, holding the door open for you the entire time. You really do feel bad that you’re taking so long, but midway through the drive your purse opened and spilled its contents out onto the floor. That, paired with your tendency to get really comfortable in Tyler’s truck, has you taking longer than usual to get out of the car. 

Tyler stood silently for the first minute, but after that, he’d—rightfully—grown frustrated. 

“Okay, almost done. Just looking for my lip gloss.”

You hear the tension in Tyler’s voice when he responds. “Just leave it. I’ll find it in the morning.”

You squint, searching under the seat through your spread legs. “You’ll forget.”

When you jump out of the car, he seems excited, until you bend over and peer under the seat with a better look. Tyler sighs but you ignore him. 

You swear you’ve almost found it but then it comes out of nowhere—a crack of thunder that resounds throughout the sky, immediately followed by rain pouring down. There are no warning drops, it comes out altogether, but Tyler acts quickly. 

He pushes you into the house, treating you like you’re in the military, yelling “Go! Go! Go!” against the sound of rain. 

By the time you get inside, you can feel the damage done to your hair. You’re already wincing, looking into the mirror in front of the door, turning your face this way and that. 

“If you weren’t taking so long—” Tyler doesn’t get to respond before you’re glaring at him through the mirror. He throws his hands up in surrender, but they soon drop to your waist instead. 

Just this casual touch warms your chest. 

“You look fine,” He reassures, even though your hair textures are different in multiple spots. But he says it like he means it, and not like he’s just trying to make you feel better. He stares at you through the mirror, his body right behind yours. 

You give up trying to fix it, besides there’s not much you can do without products and tools. Instead, you turn around, watching Tyler easily slip off his boots. You do the same with yours, placing them both together by the door. 

It looks right. It is right. 

Just as right as Tyler’s suggestion of popping open a bottle of wine and throwing on reruns. 

He tells you about the storms they’ve been chasing while you pass the bottle back and forth, occasionally stopping to criticize the actions of the characters on your TV as if this is the first time he’d seen this. 

It’s not until you’re three episodes in and trying to fight off the wine sleepiness (and horniness) that Tyler turns to face you. 

“Hey,” he says, resting his hand on your ankle that sits right beside his thigh. “You doing okay?”

At first, you don’t understand the point of the question. “Yep. Trying not to fall asleep.”

He smiles as if he shares the sentiment, but still shakes his head. “‘s not what I mean. After earlier, are you okay?”

“Oh. Yeah. ‘m fine, Ty. Thanks.”

He doesn’t press it anymore. 

“Sorry I’ve been gone.”

“You don’t have to apologize. It’s what we agreed on.”

“I know but it doesn’t feel right leaving you here all alone.” 

“I’m fine, Tyler. Seriously.”

“I know, I know. You can take care of yourself. But I like taking care of you, too. I like being here for you.” 

You turn to face Tyler, staring at the way the pink lights of a commercial illuminate the side of his face. He looks so honest as he usually does, but there’s something in his eyes that you haven’t seen before. Maybe it’s always been there, but you hadn’t been looking for it. 

Now, it’s plain and simple, sitting right there for you to do something with. 

Just as you’re about to do something, Tyler turns back to face the TV. You push away the dismal feeling that threatens to crawl up your throat. 

It fizzes away a bit whenever Tyler rubs his thumb over your ankle. 

You feel like you’re dreaming. Maybe you are. Maybe you dozed off on the couch to Tyler rubbing soothing circles over your ankle and the arch of your foot while you both mindlessly watched reality TV. You glance down at your hand, seeing only what you’re supposed to be seeing, and then you look back up at Tyler to see what you shouldn’t be seeing. 

You’ve lived in denial for a while. It’s been easy to pretend that you didn’t like Tyler because there’s no way he could like you too. He’s just a gentleman, raised right by his momma, and that had always been the explanation. Tyler’s upbringing explained why he was so eager to risk the flu just to help you out, why he drove an hour just to give you a jump when your battery died, why he taught you line dances until you were a puddle of sweat on your living room floor. Why he ditched his friends to hang out with you, why he briefly abandoned his one true love—tornado wrangling—to give you a day he thought you deserved. Why he punched your ex without any hesitation at the first sign of disrespect.

But Tyler’s upbringing didn’t put this look in his eyes. A look so defined that you cannot deny it anymore.

Both of you stand in front of your bedroom doors, backs turned to the wood in order to face the other. Tyler stares down at you, eyes lidded with bags beneath, but no less infatuated.  

He doesn’t say anything. He just looks. 

You speak first. 

“I missed having you home, Ty.”

This surprises him. He tilts his head, letting the surprise show on his face as his eyebrows raise and his eyes widen. “I knew you did, honey bun. But what happened to loving the place all to yourself?”

You shrug, trying to be nonchalant even though your feelings are anything but. “Turns out that’s boring and too quiet. I miss your chaos.”

“You miss my chaos?” He nods as he says it, astonishment on his face. “And that’s supposed to be a compliment?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, turning around, and reaching for your door. “You knew it was a compliment, asshole.”

He’s laughing through his apology. It’s as lighthearted as your chastising. 

He extends his arms, wrapping them around your body and hugging you from behind. You don’t mean to meld with his shape as quickly and easily as you do, but maybe that’s the thing. It’s natural for you to fit yourself right into Tyler, just like it was natural for him to fit himself right into your life.

He hums, resting his chin against your head. 

“I missed you, too, love bug.” Ugh, the nickname. He makes it sound like you’re in love with him. 

(Are you?)

You spin around in Tyler’s arms, doing so easily with the space he gives you, but then he’s right back on you, arms wrapped around your shoulders and your head resting on his chest. 

You have your arms wrapped around his waist, breathing in the soft scent of laundry detergent, outside, and his cologne all melding on the cotton of his shirt. 

You sigh, content with what life has given you. 

When you say, “I’m glad you made it home”, it comes out naturally. You feel it deep within you, glad that whatever divine intervention or luck was on your side to bring Tyler back safely. 

When he agrees with an earnest, “I’m glad I’m home”, he says it like he means it too, and you’re sure he does. 

A moment goes by and Tyler calls your name. You hum, waiting for him to say something as you lazily blink at him. 

“If I asked to kiss you, what would you say?”

Your answer is quick. “I would say yes.”

Tyler nods. “And if I asked you to come spend the night in my room, what would you say?”

You think about it for a second, trying to ignore the fluttering in your stomach and the way your heart has kickstarted. “I would say no.”

His face falls. You pick it back up. 

“My room’s better.”

Tyler smiles through his annoyance, already stepping towards your bedroom. You lead him in, one hand on the doorknob as you continue to face him. His hands find your waist, holding you steady and close to him as you both enter your bedroom. It’s not until you’re both standing in your room that he pushes his lips to yours. 

[n0tamused]

A/n: Not a one-shot but crack hcs! Hope you enjoy. I don't often write crack stuff but it is really fun when I get to it :)

Content: Dr. Ratio x Reader, can be read as platonic or romantic, no pronouns used, just crack overall, short and sweet

-While Ratio can have lots of patience for people of all walks of life, he has found a challenge within you and your form of intellect.. It would be arguably the first time Ratio has found himself in some form of a stumped state due to some of your questionable actions or phrases. He just has to sit back and wait for a moment until his brain sets itself back in place and he can think straight again

-He often scolds you, but no matter what he says it's like your brain translates it to something completely different, and even if his words are harsh you take it as if he complimented you and praised you to no end?

-Man is confused. To say the least

-Once he caught you losing nearly all your money against Aventurine, stating “third time's the charm”. YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW POKER?! Even Aventurine was laughing along in all the confusion one can show without being odd, and he had to say he wouldn’t have taken the money,  this was just a ‘friendly-fire’ sort of thing, he says. Well that’s lucky for you, considering you had rent and food to pay for!

-He drags you away while you jest about it and also apologize too, because he looks like he’ll explode

-Ratio may or may have not hit the top of your head with his codex..once or twice, but it’s all in good spirits - trust

-He really does mean well, especially if he seriously sees you struggling with something. He won’t hand you the answers on a silver platter unless it's a last resort sort of thing, but he would prefer to guide you to the answer, basically making you think outside the box and such until you arrive at the answer yourself. He is always open to advice and keeps an open mind, and with that he could entertain an idea you may have, yes.. even the more... silly ones. But also be ready to be shut down immediately for the absurd ideas you may bring up. He doesn't waste time nor does he like or plan to.

-Dr. Ratio is the voice of reason in your life, and he's there to reel you back to the ground when you may be getting ideas for something that would not benefit you, or god forbid - if you plan to do something risky that could harm you or your reputation.

-He often goes out of his way to make sure you’re doing things on schedule, so waking you up, sending you a message to eat (no crisps, go eat something good, something healthy), he’d send you articles about things he remembers interest you, papers on your favored topics

-A more tender thing he does is do your hair. It’s a simple thing yet it means a lot to him and you. Just a few minutes of quiet as his fingers thread or comb through your hair, brushing through it with meticulous moves, making sure he doesn’t pull or yank. 

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Springtrap x Reader | Summary: Your uncle has asked you to keep watch over his new investment, Fazbear Frights, and the vintage artifacts his attraction contains. When you begrudgingly accept his offer, things take a turn for the weirder. An encounter in your dreams with a yellow rabbit changes you…for better, or worse?

Heads up: This fic is not for everybody, and that’s okay! It’s a fucked-up fever dream and if the summary intrigues you, come along for the ride. If not, that’s okay too. Things get heavy here. There’s monsterfucking, dream sex, vaginal penetration, some choking, fear, lust, disgust, basically a whole grab bag of fuckery, so if that’s your thing, read on, dear deviant 🫵♥️ PS the end is kind of fire, I love a good twist!!!

To be honest, you thought the idea of opening a theme park ‘attraction,’ based on the mysterious disappearances of children was fucked up. But your uncle was convinced there was a market for such a sick endeavor, that an audience existed whose search for thrills and chills would have them willing to shed money for a chance at experiencing horrific local nostalgia.

Because really, who wouldn’t want to relive the tragedy of multiple kids going missing? You were being sarcastic, of course. But part of that sarcasm stemmed from genuine bewilderment. What was your uncle thinking when he formed the concept of Fazbear Frights? He’d always been into horror as a genre, but as far as you’d understood, his interest was confined to books and film, not true crime. And if the subject matter of the Freddy’s story had involved the tragic disappearance of local adults, maybe Fazbear Frights wouldn’t have bothered you as much as it did. But kids had gone missing, lives had been upended, and your uncle was about to make a profit off of their heartache.

The worst part of all? You’d accepted his offer to work there. The cost of life after college was kicking your ass; you could barely afford your rent as it was, working two part-time jobs. Money was more than tight; you needed extra cash wherever you could find it. And besides, the Fazbear Frights gig would only last a couple of weeks, just until the attraction opened. Your uncle’s job offer had been to monitor the security of the place overnight, with generous pay promised. You couldn’t understand why he’d be willing to pay someone to guard a bunch of creepy old relics from an abandoned pizza parlor, or why additional security was necessary when the theme park itself already had an overnight guard? Your uncle maintained that additional security was needed, and that he only trusted family with the responsibility of protecting such an important investment as his precious, twisted attraction…

Entering Fazbear Frights, your first impression is that it’s really fucking ugly. Granted, it’s supposed to look old fashioned, and maybe the building’s creepiness is simply proof of good set design. However, a sense of unease lingers in your stomach, and you’re almost positive it’s caused by something beyond the decor. The attraction is fully furnished, but won’t open for a couple more weeks while the finishing touches on lighting and sound are tweaked. Those changes are made during the day, when at least a little sunlight can be seen filtering in through the windows, reminding you there’s life outside. For your part, working the night shift, the dark building makes you feel secluded and more than a little creeped out.

You have a flashlight, and mostly functional electricity running through the building. But there’s still much to be desired in the way of making the attraction feel…not haunted. And it occurs to you that that’s the word which describes how you’re feeling: haunted. The hairs on your skin are standing at attention, a cold sweat clinging to the back of your neck, but why? Obviously the setting is creepy, but it’s meant to be. You’re usually comfortable around spooky decor. It’s not as if you’re a scared kid wandering the halls of a haunted house alone…but that’s how you this place makes you feel…

It’s getting late. An outdated digital clock (probably a relic from the late eighties itself) on the desk in front of you reads 3 AM. You shiver as yet another cold breeze whispers past your shoulders. You look around, studying the vintage posters on the wall, wondering how much money your uncle threw away in order to call these scraps his own. The figures staring back at you look menacing, despite their wide smiles. They’re called animatronics, you remember. That’s how your uncle had referred to them. You also recall his mentioning one animatronic in particular, a Freddy’s original he’d managed to get his hands on and would be bringing to Fazbear Frights. You haven’t seen it yet, and to be totally honest, you’re not sure you want to. If the animatronic your uncle purchased looks anything like the ones in the posters you’re staring at, you’d prefer to never encounter such a creature…

Re-entering the theme park feels like walking through the gates of Hell. You’d rather be anywhere else than here. Another night of spending six hours alone in the gloomy replica of a literal crime scene has your stomach twisting. And you didn’t sleep well, either. Your dreams had been too vivid to allow you rest. You’d dreamed of a monster, or something that could certainly be called one…a massive, towering figure with patchy, mustard-yellow fur clinging to its skeletal frame. It resembled a rabbit, or had, at some point long ago. While still maintaining the general shape of a rabbit, its appearance had decayed, warping its cuddly features into something ugly. Its eyes were cold gray orbs that rested deep in its oversized, vacant skull, tendons and ligaments intertwined with wires that wrapped its skeleton, which you later realized, was comprised of metal rather than bone.

Your senses had been particularly keen in the dream. The rabbit’s scent was stale, yet comfortingly nostalgic. It reminded you of an old quilt your grandmother had once given you from the bottom of her dresser drawer, which smelled of love and other ancient, homemade things. She’d wrapped you up inside it, with kisses and promises that the chilly winter night wouldn’t be as cold now, that the quilt had been waiting there in the dresser for years, waiting for someone who needed it…

The rabbit’s fur was coarse, your skin a soft contrast when you wrapped your arms around its waist. It felt like the outdoor carpet that had lined your parents’ back porch, which your feet and rain had pelted countless Summer nights. The rabbit’s fur was cool to the touch, moist with something bittersweet, a musky blend of old books with yellowed pages, their corners turned down and words lined in pencil…

And against your lips, that was also his taste, his tongue the flavor of nostalgia, his large, unbearably strong hands crushing your body against his like he intended to make love to and ruin you all at once. Whether or not he consisted of machine or animal, he was more human than anything else, fully formed with the parts needed to bring you to a state of rapture. He held you suspended, your legs around his waist, fucking up into you with more vigor than his decayed appearance would suggest him capable of. You clutched his back, and then his ears, locking your fingers around them and bracing for impact as each of his mechanical, brutal thrusts punched inside you with a machine’s precision…

You’d woke up in a state of climax, your body drenched with sweat. The sheet beneath you had been ripped from the mattress, balled into tight fists. Your chest heaved, your bare breasts glistening with perspiration. Your cunt was pulsing, fluttering with the aftershocks of a powerful orgasm. Arousal dripped down your quivering thighs, onto the mattress which was soaking wet beneath you.

A shower and breakfast had done little to calm the questions racing through your mind. What the hell was that? Your dreams were rarely as vivid, as visceral, as the one about the rabbit. And as for the sex…it had been the best sex you’d had in a dream, ever. And it had been with what must surely have been a monster…

You hope your six hours at Fazbear Frights will go quickly tonight, partially because you’re still a little unsteady and aroused from your dream this morning. Additionally, you’re looking forward to sleep, because maybe the rabbit will be waiting for you when you close your eyes, again?

Unexpectedly, your uncle meets you at the staff entrance of Fazbear Frights. He seems excited about something, and you’re grateful for a distraction from your thoughts of the rabbit. “Hey kid,” your uncle greets you with a friendly wave. “How’d it go last night?”

“Alright,” you reply. “It’s a little creepy in there, but that’s the point, isn’t it?”

You don’t miss the subtle gleam in your uncle’s eyes, revealing how pleased he is that his attraction is having its desired effect. “That’s right,” he says cheerfully. “Gotta give the people what they want. And what they want-.” He turns his key in the lock and pulls the door open for the two of you. “-Is the authentic Freddy Fazbear experience. Which is why I’m here tonight.” He lets you step past him into the building, and locks the door behind you both. “-To show you the part of my collection that’ll really have people talking. We just brought him in today-you’ve got to see him…”

You grimace visibly. “It’s the fucking animatronic, isn’t it?” you groan, and your uncle rolls his eyes.

“Yes it is, sourpuss,” he teases. “And trust me when I tell you, it’s gonna make this place really feel like Freddy’s, like you’re stepping inside a time capsule or something.”

Your uncle led you down a hallway to one of the doors marked STAFF ONLY . “He’s showing his years of course,” your uncle continued, searching his ring for a different key. “I mean, this animatronic sat abandoned for thirty years; of course he’s gonna look a little rough around the edges.”

Your uncle finds the appropriate key and jiggles it inside the lock. “But just knowing that we, Fazbear Frights, have our hands on the one and only Spring Bonnie-.” He sighs proudly. “-It reminds me how much all of this was worth it, y’know? Now that he’s here, back in his element. Where he belongs.”

Your eyebrow lifts in curiosity; you resist the urge to laugh in your uncle’s face. “You do realize you sound just a little bit crazy, right?” you question him. “Talking about this thing like it’s a real person or something. Don’t tell me-.” You lean in, whispering. “-You talk to it sometimes, don’t you?”

Your uncle pauses before whispering back, “yeah, but, the only time I really feel crazy is when he responds…”

You giggle at that, watching while your uncle pulls the door open wide. “Here he is, (Y/N),” your uncle declares, beaming in the doorway. “The yellow rabbit himself. Spring Bonnie in the flesh-err, I mean, fur…”

For a moment, you assume you must be dreaming. Because you find yourself looking at the exact same rabbit from your dream this morning. He looks different, sat on the floor, leaning against the far wall; but it’s unmistakably him. Your uncle watches your expression, slightly confused. “Is he really that scary?” he asks, his voice hopeful.

You take a step forward, curiosity overriding your apprehension. The rabbit is large, just as large as he was in your dream. Even seated on the floor, you can tell his height is substantial. Tentatively, you reach for the rabbit’s face, stroking his musty-scented fur tenderly.

“D-be careful!” your uncle frets behind you, adding, “that thing was very expensive-be gentle with him-,” but his concerns aren’t necessary. You know this rabbit…intimately well. And once you’re alone with him again, you’ll make sure to take excellent care not to damage him in your…exertion…

“What did you say his name was?” you ask, gazing into the rabbit’s steely eyes. Your uncle clears his throat, obviously perplexed by the care you seem to feel for a decaying animatronic you had no interest in seeing only moments ago. “Uh, Bonnie,” he replies. “Spring Bonnie.”

“Bonnie,” you repeat, allowing the word to sink over your tongue. “That means beautiful, doesn’t it?”

Your uncle nods, still confused, and glances at his watch. “Well, it’s just about midnight,” he says. “Time for me to head out. Come walk me to the door, will ya?” He pretends to shiver. “This place gives even me the creeps at night, to be totally honest.”

You choose to leave the rabbit (for now). “I’ll be back,” you whisper against his ear, quietly enough that your uncle doesn’t hear. He’s waiting for you in the doorway, a warm smile on his face, your fascination with the yellow rabbit a fleeting curiosity to him, and nothing more. Once you’re sure your uncle is gone, you exhale a sigh of relief. Locking the door behind you feels like sealing the world away completely; and in contrast to yesterday, that kind of isolation is now exactly what you want. Your heart thuds against your chest like a horse’s hooves, skipping beats as you turn for the hall.

You’ve bunched your skirt around your waist, your shoes clicking loudly in the empty hall. Heavy rain pelts the tin roof as you round the corner that leads to him. In the doorway, a tall, familiar figure stands. His gray eyes flash cold as steel, locking you in place at the opposite end of the hallway.

Thunder growls outside. The building’s electricity spits in and out, crackling around you like fireflies caught in a jar. Your heart’s in your throat, lips spreading into a wide smile. The hall goes dark, lit only by the steely gaze of the yellow rabbit...

…until suddenly, even his eyes disappear, and you’re left engulfed by an all-consuming darkness.

Lightning flashes, illuminating the hand reaching for you. Robotic, aluminum fingers draped with rotting yellow fur close around your throat, silencing the scream beneath them. The rabbit lifts you by the throat till you’re completely suspended, feet dangling limp and useless beneath you. His sour breath reeks of rotten meat and dried blood, the kind of smell that instinctively alerts you to danger. Your eyes roll back, surrender sinking over you as you accept your fate.

But as quickly as he seized you, the rabbit yields. You feel the cold, filthy tile meet your cheek as you land against it. Through gauzy vision, you make out the metallic feet of the rabbit standing before you, his endoskeleton clearly visible. He takes hold of your hair, and tugs you upright, holding you in place as your trembling legs cannot sustain you. His eyes bore deeply into yours, chortled breath leaving his mechanical chest in a slow, grotesque pant. When he speaks, your whole body shivers.

“You…” the rabbit murmurs, his wide jaw cracking, fleshy tendons stretching. The curdled timbre of his voice betrays the smile on his lips; the rabbit is glad to see you.

“How…long…” he snarls. “…has it been…?” He drags a thick, soiled finger across your cheek, the gesture unexpectedly tender. “…Since anyone desired me…?”

Your chest is heaving, conflicting emotions of every kind overwhelming you. A sick cocktail of fear and arousal throbs in your belly, keeping time with your pounding heart.

“P-please,” you stutter, tears bleeding down your cheeks. “Don’t h-hurt me…”

The rabbit tilts his head to the side, thinking. His hooded eyes wash over you, this tiny little creature in his hands, pleading mercy from him.

“Mmm,” the rabbit hums, his skeletal chest vibrating like a lion’s purr. “You think I’m a monster, don’t you?”

You gasp as his touch glides from your face to your chest, his big paw closing over your breasts. He groans at the feeling of your heartbeat thundering against his palm. “I’d forgotten,” he says. “How a woman’s pulse feels…the proof of her life, beating in the palm of my hand…”

With his other paw, the rabbit clutches the back of your head and draws you closer. The stench of rot, of horror and decay, cannot repulse you anymore…not when his tongue has breached the barrier of your lips, the thick, sinewy muscle undulating against your tongue in a wet bed of perversion. His bulky fingers lodge between your thighs. Immediately, you begin to grind against the textured fur, wetting his mechanical digits with your arousal.

Seized by a sudden courage, you lift your hips in a way that has you poised atop one of the rabbit’s fingertips, his damp appendage resting against your entrance. He obliges your silent request, allowing you to sink over his thick finger, taking him as far as you can.

The thunder inside you eclipses the storm outside. You moan filthy, disgusting praises as he pleasures you, all sense of fear long-abandoned in exchange for the fulfillment of your most hedonistic desires. His fat, coarse digit strokes you like it was made for you to ride, reaching places inside you no part of any man ever has. You’re going dumb on top of him, so dumb you don’t even notice when the rabbit gently eases you onto the ground.

He’s under you now, his back pressed against the wall, his paw of a hand still clutching your cunt, letting you use his fingers to get yourself off. A dark, satisfied chuckle rumbles up from his bony chest. “Just look at you,” he murmurs, his steely eyes heavy with lust. “Bouncing on my lap like a slutty little rabbit, aren’t you?”

His lewd words and husky tone send you over the edge. Your body convulses on top of him, the muscles at your core clenching around the rabbit’s touch, sucking his fat appendage rhythmically as you ride out your high…

“Fucking Christ!” A man’s voice bleats through the hallway like a frightened animal. You whip your head to see him, blinded instantly by the beam of his flashlight. He’s wearing a shirt that identifies him as the theme park’s security, and as your eyes follow up to his face, you’re met with the wide-eyed gaze of unfiltered horror staring back at you. His flashlight shakes wildly in his hand, catching the rabbit’s skeletal leg in its beam. Confusion sets over you…followed by shame. Because the rabbit is now as he was when you arrived there tonight…sat against a wall, unmoving and limp, no more than a broken machine overcome by decay. But unlike earlier, you’re now sat straddling the broken machine, your cum dripping down its tattered fur…your hands locked around one of the animatronic’s arms, lodging his hand between your thighs…one of his fingers buried deep inside your cunt…

The guard clears his throat; you force yourself to meet his eyes. “Th-there was a c-.” He clears his throat again, blinking to focus. “-County-wide power outage, miss…I knew you were um, keepin’ watch over the place for your uncle, and uh-.” He swallows, forcing his eyes from dropping to the place where your body and the animatronic are joined. “-I th-thought you might be spooked in here, alone-.” He glances at the rabbit, then back to you. “-in the dark…”

Frustrated tears burn at the corners of your eyes, your cheeks hot with humiliation. Carefully, you ease the rabbit’s finger out of your cunt, wincing as the metal scratches your skin. Somehow, it didn’t hurt before. You smooth your skirt down, concealing your nakedness but none of your shame.

Standing in the beam of the guard’s flashlight, you summon every bit of the (minimal) pride you have left to tell him, “thank you. That was very kind of you, to come check on me.”

He licks his lips nervously, eyes darting between you and the animatronic propped against the wall. His flashlight illuminates the perverse scene, revealing your cum still glistening on the rabbit’s fur. The fear in the guard’s expression has softened to a pitying disgust.

“I think it’s time for you to go home, miss,” he says. You wipe a tear from your cheek, glancing back at the animatronic one last time, before leaving Fazbear Frights (and your rabbit) behind, forever…

[lele5429]

Retired Assets - Story and Art Master Post

Story (Read the tags!)

Ch1: Prologue

Ch2: The Cold Within

Ch3: The Fire Won’t Light Itself

Ch4: Blind

Ch5: I Will Not Leave You

Ch6: coming soon

Ch7:

AO3 main page

Art

Illustrations for the Story (by Lele)

THE TITLE PAGE (Key Visual) - I’ve finished it but I’ll post it with the finale.

Ex Libris (book plate)

Ch 2: The Cold Within

Ch 4: Blind

Ch 5: I Will Not Leave You and Never Alone

Character Design and Sketches

A Precursor to RA Ravio: fanart for @shirley-99

The first drawing of RA Ravio

RA Ravio's costume design (spoiler-free)

ALBW vs LU vs RA Ravio designs

LU Ravio vs RA Ravio - comparison and design notes

RA Ravio in a more naturalistic style (first attempt)

RA Ravio smiles and Part 2

LU Legend vs RA Legend

Love transcends the veil of absence

RA Legend in a more naturalistic style (first attempt)

RA Ravio (TW: blood)

Ravio and Sheerow for an art challenge

Tagaki Ravio profile pic

Art Process

THE TITLE PAGE (Key Visual Time Lapse)

Key Visual - inking

Ch 2: The Cold Within - scrapped designs

Drawing Eyes

Ch 4: Blind - time lapse

Ch 5: “Never Alone” - scrapped designs

Unrelated dark Ravio

Artistic Responses/Art Gifts

Discussing the Script by @moonriver080

The Burning Bridge by @moonriver080

Emoticons ft. The cast @violet-xd09

Emoticons Part 2 @violet-xd09

Ravio’s magic and smile @violet-xd09

Illustrations for Ch3 @violet-xd09

Nursery AU @violet-xd09 and Part 2

Ravio in the headlights by @violet-xd09

Ravio Tegaki by @wardingshout

Ravio mural by @hero-of-fortune

Disaster bunny and his faces by @violet-xd09

Drawing faces (art challenge) with @violet-xd09

MS paint and Tegaki Ravio blorbo @violet-xd09

Mid-Autumn Festival @violet-xd09

Bonus

Memes / Crack / Fluff (my art!)

Ravio wants you to stop and read the warning tags

Ravio with STOP sign animated

Disaster Bunny

Going to work with your landlord?

Get-along Shirt

PAY NO RENT

Why does RA Ravio fear Hilda?

Blue Potions

To Heaven

Jet lag

Legend explains things to Ravio (Ch4)

Self care or draw 25 and Part 2

RA Ravio ™️

Nope/Yep

Goodnight Ojousama

Account Deleted

Nothing is perfect

Ch 6 Teaser and Part 2

Drawing with my eyes closed

Babies need a hug

Why dis bun look so mad 😭

Working Properties - Retired Assets Actors AU

Take a break

Chibi

Ravio hugging Sheerow

Legend ╭(°A°`)╮

Sticker Pack #1

Poster Pose

Happy Fable

The Cold Within but Chibi

Apple juice

Hilda reading Ravio’s diary

Hilda Boop

Nursery AU (The Cast as Kids)

Nursery AU - first drawing

Kid!Ravio tries lemons

Crafts

Linocut: RA Ravio

Linocut: RA Legend

Prints ft. the RA leads, signed and framed

PAY NO RENT: heat-transfer vinyl T-shirt

Lasercut on wood: some keychains and tickets by @moonriver080

Button-making (with a sneak peek of additional memes)

Ravio’s robe and scarf (cosplay)

Bracelets inspired by LU characters

Stamp

Shaker charms and Part 2

Sheerow doll (by Alex Lynn crafts)

RA Ravio sleep mask

Q&A

Search for #retired assets ask game

Ravio character notes [1]

[razorblade180]

Dedication

Summer:Hay mom? I need singing advice?

Weiss:*eyes widened* Y-Yes? Please speak my child.

Summer:Stop getting so excited about this.

Weiss:You never ask these days! I can’t help it.

Summer:I feel like I’m going through the motions. It’s a bit of a slog. Even when I sing I feel like I could be doing…better? It’s not like I’ve been or tour or making singles recently. Maybe I’m rusty? I don’t know! It’s all just…

Weiss:Maybe take a vacation? I’ll pay. Atlas isn’t the best place for inspiration.

Summer:I think that won’t help. I will be in a rut in another location. You took a break from music before, then came back to immediately top the charts a few years later. How’d you do it?

Weiss:Oh. You mean you were like three? Man that was an experience. You wanna know my secret?

Summer:Yes!

Weiss:Rent.

Summer:…The Musical?

Weiss:No! Haha, literal rent was due soon.

Summer:You sung your heart out to pay a bill? Why not take a mission?

Weiss:Because high paying ones are dangerous and I love my kids.

Summer:….

Weiss:When you and your brother were born I made a personal vow that no matter what you would want for nothing. Be it my time, food, or a toy, I was going to do it. Money was tight and even though I have wonderful family and friends to help, I never wanted to be a burden or let my darling children feel instability. So I grabbed Jaune’s guitar, got in contact with an old studio friend, and I stepped back into the spotlight.

Summer:Even though you don’t like it.

Weiss:I may not care for it, but I’ll always care about the ones I love. Plus I don’t hate singing itself. I had a lot of new ideas after having twins. I can’t say for sure if I’ve properly honored my vow these days considering…everything that’s happened. Still, there’s nothing I won’t ever do for you and your brother. So yeah, rent was due it was going to be paid in full and have my husband spend less time as a huntsman and more as a kickass dad with cooking skills.

Summer:….*hugs Weiss slowly*

Weiss:Oh?

Summer:You’re really cool. That vow has been kept ten times over.

Weiss:….Hmm *hugs back* Thank you. I think you’re pretty cool too. Now if only you wanted to share a stage….

Summer:Mother….

Weiss:Hehehe, We’ll put a pin in that conversation.

Summer:…I’ll think about it. *smiles*

[mostlysignssomeportents]

A "secure" system can be the most dangerous of all

Two decades ago, my life changed forever: hearing Bruce Schneier explain that “security” doesn’t exist in the abstract. You can only be secure from some threat. A fire alarm won’t protect you from burglaries. A condom won’t protect you from mass shootings. It seems obvious, but how often do we hear about “security” without any mention of who is being made secure, and from which threat?

Take the US welfare system. It is very “secure” in that it is hedged in by a thicket of red-tape, audits, inspections and onerous procedures. To get food stamps, housing vouchers, or cash aid, you must navigate a Soviet-grade bureaucratic system of Kafkaesque proportions. Indeed, one of the great ironies of the post-Cold War world is that the USA has become a “Utopia Of Rules” (as David Graeber put it), subjecting everyday people to the state-run bureacracies that the USAUSAUSA set endlessly ridiculed the USSR for:

https://memex.craphound.com/2015/02/02/david-graebers-the-utopia-of-rules-on-technology-stupidity-and-the-secret-joys-of-bureaucracy/

(The right says it wants to “shrink the US government until fits in a bathtub — and then drown it” — but not the whole government. They want unlimited government bloat for that part of the state that is dedicated to tormenting benefits claimants, especially if its functions are managed by a Beltway Bandit profiteer who bills Uncle Sucker up the wazoo for rubber-stamping “DENIED” on every claim.)

The US benefits system has a sophisticated, expensive, fully staffed anti-fraud system — but it’s a highly selective form of anti-fraud. The system is oriented solely to prevent fraud against itself, with no thought to protecting benefits recipients themselves from fraud.

And those recipients — by definition the poorest and most vulnerable among us — are easy pickings for continuous, ghastly, eye-watering acts of fraud. These benefits are distributed via prepaid debit cards — EBT Cards — that lack the basic security measures that every other kind of card has had for years. These are simple magstripe cards, lacking basic chip-and-pin defenses, to say nothing of contactless countermeasures.

That means that fraudsters can — and do — install skimmers in the point-of-sale terminals used by benefits recipients to withdraw their cash benefits, pay for food using SNAP (AKA Food Stamps), and receive other benefits.

It’s impossible to overstate how widespread these skimmers are, and how much money criminals make by stealing from poor people. Writing for Businessweek, Jessica Fu describes the mad scramble benefits recipients go through every month, standing by ATMs at midnight on the night of the first of every month in hopes of withdrawing the cash they use to pay for their rent and utility bills before it is stolen by a crook who captured their card number with a skimmer:

https://www.bloomberg.com/news/features/2023-06-28/ebt-theft-takes-millions-of-dollars-from-the-neediest-americans

One of Fu’s sources, Lexisnexis Risk Solutions’s Haywood Talcove, describes these EBT cards as having the security of a “glorified hotel room key.” He recounts how US police departments saw a massive explosion in EBT skimming: from 300 complaints in January 2022 to 18,000 in January 2023.

The skimmer rings are extremely well organized. The people who install the skimmers — working in pairs, with one person to distract the cashier while the other quickly installs the skimmer — don’t know who they work for. Neither do the people who use cards cloned from skimmer data to cash out benefits recipients’ accounts. When they are arrested, they refuse to turn on their immediate recruiters, fearing reprisals against their families.

These low-level crooks stroll up to ATMs and feed a succession of cloned cards into them, emptying account after account. Or they swipe cards at grocery checkouts, buying cases of Red Bull and other easily sold grocery products with some victim’s entire SNAP balance.

Some police agencies are pursuing these criminal gangs and trying figure out who’s running them, but the authorities who issue SNAP cards are doing little to nothing to stop the pipeline at their end. Simply upgrading SNAP terminals to chip-and-pin would exponentially raise the cost and complexity that thieves incur.

Indeed, that’s why every other kind of payment card uses these systems. How is it that these systems were upgraded, while SNAP cards remain in mired in 20th century “glorified hotel room key” territory? Well, as our friends on the right never cease to remind us: “incentives matter.”

When your credit card gets cloned, it’s your banks and credit card company that pays for the losses, not you. So the banks demanded (and funded) the upgrade to new anti-fraud measures. By contrast, most states have no system for refunding stolen benefits to skimmers’ victims.

In other words, all of the anti-fraud in the benefits system is devoted to catching benefits cheating — a phenomenon that is so rare as to be almost nonexistent (1.54%), notwithstanding right wingers’ fevered, Reagan-era folktales about “welfare queens”:

https://blog.gitnux.com/food-stamp-fraud-statistics/

Meanwhile, the most widespread and costly form of fraud in the benefits system — fraud perpetrated against benefits recipients — is blithely ignored.

Really, it’s worse than that. In deciding to protect the welfare system rather than welfare recipients, we’ve made it vastly harder for benefits claimants who’ve been victimized by fraudsters to remain fed and sheltered. After all, if we made it simple and straightforward for benefits recipients to re-claim money that was stolen from them, we’d make it that much easier to defraud the system.

“Security” is always and forever a matter of securing some specific thing, against some specific risk. In other words, security reflects values — it reveals whose risk matters, and whose doesn’t. For the American benefits system, risks to the system matter. Risks to people don’t.

It’s not just the welfare system that prioritizes its own risks against the people it exists to serve. Think of the systems used to fight drug abuse in clinical settings.

Medical facilities that use or dispense powerful pain-killers have exquisitely tuned, sophisticated, frequently audited security systems to prevent patients from tricking their doctors or pharmacists into administering extra drugs (especially opioids). “Extra” in this case means “more drugs than are strictly necessary to manage pain.”

The rationale for this is only incidentally medical. Someone who gets a little too much painkiller during a medical procedure or an acute pain episode is not at any particular risk of enduring harm — the risks are minor and easily managed (say, by keeping a patient in bed a little longer while they recover from sedation).

The real agenda here is preventing addiction and abuse by addicted people. There’s a genuine problem with opioid abuse, and that problem does have its origins in overprescription. But — crucially — that overprescription wasn’t the result of wimpy patients insisting on endless painkillers until they enslaved themselves to their pills.

Rather, the opioid epidemic has its origins in the billionaire Sackler crime family, whose Purdue Pharma used scientific fraud, cash incentives, and other deceptive practices to trick, coerce, or bribe doctors into systematically overprescribing their Oxycontin cash cow, even as they laundered their reputation with showy charitable donations:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/07/12/monopolist-solidarity/#sacklers-billions

The Sacklers got to keep their billions — and people undergoing painful medical procedures or living with chronic pain are left holding the bag, subject to tight pain-med controls that forces them to prove — through increasingly stringent systems — that they truly deserve their medicine.

In other words, the beneficiary of the opioid control system is the system itself — not the patients who need opioids.

There’s an extremely disturbing — even nightmarish — example of this in the news: the Yale Fertility Clinic, where hundreds of women endured unimaginably painful egg harvesting procedures with no anaesthesia at all.

These women had complained for years about the pain they suffered, and many had ended up needing emergency care after the fact because of traumatic injuries caused by undergoing the procedure without pain control. But the doctors and nurses at the Yale clinic ignored their screams of pain and their post-operative complaints.

It turned out that an opioid-addicted nurse had been swapping the fentanyl in the drug cabinet for saline, and taking the fentanyl home for her own use.

This made national headlines at the time, and it is the subject of “The Retrievals,” a new New York Times documentary series podcast:

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/06/22/podcasts/serial-the-retrievals-yale-fertility-clinic.html

If the pain medication management system was designed to manage pain, then these thefts would have been discovered early on. If the system was designed so that anyone who experienced pain was treated until the pain was under control, the deception would have been uncovered almost immediately.

As Stafford Beer said, “the purpose of any system is what it does.” The pain medication management system was designed to manage pain medication, not pain itself.

The system was designed to be secure from opioid-seeking addicted patients. It was not designed to make patients secure from pain. Its values — our values, as a society — were revealed through its workings.

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this thread to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/13/whose-security/#for-me-not-thee

[Image ID: A down-the-barrel view of a massive, battleship-gray artillery piece protruding from the brick battlement of a fortress. From the black depths of the barrel shines a red neon 'EBT' sign.]

Image: Bjarne Henning Kvaale (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Oscarsborg_28cm_Krupp_cannon_4_-_panoramio.jpg

CC BY-SA 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/deed.en

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for calling someone to my friend’s house?

So, I have a friend (let’s call him M, I won’t reveal his age because we’re both minors), who lives in the same room as his 30 year old brother. While that’s a little weird in itself, I don’t judge if that’s how the guy needs to live.

The problem is, M’s brother pays rent for the room and yet acts like he owns it. He doesn’t listen to a thing M or his parents say. Today I learned that M has mold growing in his room. He says his parents and his brother won’t do anything about it. Me and another friend (let’s call her J) are worried about his health. We’ve provided him with resources to learn how to take care of mold. It seems simple enough, and we’ve even offered to give him cleaning spray. He says his parents wouldn’t let him.

J and I have both wondered if we should call a professional to deal with it. He said it’s not that bad, but I’m legitimately very concerned about his health. But I feel like calling someone would be a bit extreme. I probably won’t, but I’m curious what you all think I should do.

What are these acronyms?

[dailyanarchistposts]

A revolutionary “pessimistic” postscript in times of coronavirus

“The outbreak of the new strain of coronavirus (COVID-19), which has wrought havoc in China since the end of last year, has surged over borders and impacted the rest of the world, and with it, the imminent economic crisis has but further advanced. The world economy is in full-on crisis, the administrators of power are pending on immense financial relief, the bourgeoisie are beginning to close factories and lay off employees using the lucky pretext of the “quarantine” as excuse. The disaster is immanent. Nevertheless, it’s important to know that the monetary losses don’t signify the fall of the capitalist system. Capitalism will seek at every moment to restructure itself on the basis of austerity measures imposed on proletarians in order to palliate all the catastrophic consequences that it will bring along with it. And this is due to the fact that the “blows” that capitalism has been dealt due to these phenomena are simply losses in its rate of profit, but those losses don’t at all change its structure or its essence, meaning the social relations that allow it to remain standing: the commodity, value, the market, exploitation and wage labor. In fact, it’s in these structures that capitalism most reaffirms its necessities: sacrificing millions of human beings to the favor of economic interests, making the polarization between classes sharpen and revealing more forcefully in what position the dominant class is to be found, who will use all the efforts in their reach in order to preserve this state of things.

[…]

The ever-more contradictions heightened contradictions of this mode of production (crisis, war, pandemics, environmental destruction, pauperization, militarization), which exasperate our conditions of survival, won’t clear the way either mechanically or messianically for the end of capitalism. Or better said, such conditions, although they will be fundamental, won’t suffice. Because for capitalism to reach its end, it’s imperative for there to be a social force, antagonistic and revolutionary that manages to direct the destructive and subversive character towards something completely different from what we know and experience now.

If we want it or not, we can’t let a question as important as the revolution to drift aimlessly, to leave it to luck. It’s necessary to experience the resolution of this problem on the basis of the organization of tasks that can go on to present themselves, that’s to say, the grouping for the appropriation and defense of the most immediate necessities (not paying debts, rent, or taxes), but also, the rupture from all the dreams and mirages that carry us to manage the save miseries behind another facade.

[…]

It’s not necessary to wait for the dystopia or the hollywoodesque scenes of apocalypse, because these are already materially manifesting in different parts of the globe, and in fact they greatly surpass any attempt at representation by cinematic fiction.

The current pandemic of COVID-19 is one more stage in the degradation to which this society of commodity production brings us.

A stage before which it is reaffirmed that the true future only hangs from two strings:

Communist revolution or to perish in the twilight!”

Contra la Contra n.3 Collapse of the capitalist system? A few notes on current events. Mexico City March 2020

[thosehallowedhalls]

Five of Cups

Book: Bloodbound

Character: Gaius Augustine

Rating: Teen

Word count: 492

Summary: A stranger might understand Gaius better than he thinks.

A/N: For @ascindio, who gave me the prompt five of cups, reversed, and requested Bloodbound. Day ten of my 30 days of drabbles.

It happens in New Orleans.

Gaius is ambling about Jackson Square, his shirt tight and confining around his shoulders. Gods, he will never get used to modern clothes, no matter how the fashions change. But worse, much worse, is the noise. A cacophony of voices and heartbeats, music and movements, all scraping against his skin until it’s raw.

After centuries spent in the outermost corners of the world, surrounded by the lilting sounds of nature, New Orleans is a sensory overload he was not prepared for.

He remembers a time when it wouldn’t have been like this. When he would have rejoiced in the thundering heartbeats, each one a sign that blood flowed freely in human veins, his for the taking. For the plundering. When the rowdy, shrill thunder was a welcome reminder of his superiority over these fragile, mewling creatures.

He remembers, no matter how hard he tries to forget.

“You want a reading, hon?” A voice breaks him out of his reverie. Why he heard this voice distinctly, amidst the hundreds of others, he’ll never know.

He looks in the direction of the sound, where a woman sits behind a folding table, a sandwich board to her side announcing Tarot Readings, and scoffs. “Certainly not.”

“A skeptic, are we?”

“A realist. Tarot cards began as regular playing cards. They were not used as divination tools until the eighteenth century.”

“Things change.”

She’s telling him. “Not quite that much.”

“In that case, would you mind moving it along, dear? You’re blocking foot traffic, and rent won’t pay itself.”

“By all means.”

But as he begins to walk away, a teenager skates by, forcing Gaius to step backwards until he bumps into the woman’s table. The deck on it comes apart, a few cards flying off the table.

“My apologies,” he says, bending down to pick them up, but she’s already gathered most of them. He takes the lone remaining card and hands it to her.

“Interesting.”

“Is it?”

“Five of cups. Reversed.”

“I thought rent wouldn’t pay itself.”

“This card clearly wants to pass along a message.”

“Cards don’t…” He sighs. “Never mind. What, pray tell, does the card want to tell me?”

If she picks up on the sarcasm, she doesn’t let on. “The five of cups is about loneliness, despair, loss. Normally, it could signify regrets, suggest that you’re stuck in the past.”

“Could? Shouldn’t you know?”

She ignores his tone yet again. “That’s not how tarot works, dear. But either way, that’s not what it represents now.”

“What does it represent now?”

“The card is reversed. It represents,” she meets his eye. “Self-forgiveness.”

Even as a slight shudder rocks him, he rolls his eyes. “Fascinating.”

“You know what else the reversed five of cups stands for?” She calls after him as he begins to walk away again.

Despite himself, he turns to face her. “What?”

“Healing.”

Gaius leaves without another word.

He doesn’t believe in Tarot cards anyway.

[tricksterpale]

Emergency commissions

Hey, friends...

So I’ve been dealing with an ongoing health crisis for the past month or so and finally decided to let my boss know today that I need a leave of absence from work while I prioritize getting my health in order. 

I have enough to cover my base bills and groceries, but due to a severely reduced paycheck this next week, I won’t have enough to cover rent itself....

As such I’m temporarily offering reduced price commissions:

From 12/20 to 1/20 I’ll be offering 20% off all of my commission styles!  If you’d like to help me out, please feel free to peruse my carrd which has all of my prices as well as examples of what I have to offer. Again, my emergency discount will take 20% off the total price!

I can do art from any fandom including DnD portraits. I can also do anthro OCs (charr, hrothgar, etc.) and beasts/animals.

I know not everyone will be able to help me out monetarily which is a-okay, but if you can’t, it would still be very helpful if you could reblog and pass this along. Rent needs to be paid in less than two weeks and I’m $500 short of being able to pay rent as things stand so every bit helps ❤️

[aleksa-sims]

Is anyone else dealing with infinite loading screens lately? (Since for rent patch!!)

I’ve been trying to fix my game for over a week. I think I tried everything, like... 50/50, removing all cc/mods altogether, repairing, deleting caches, resetting ea app....except un- & reinstalling it completeIy! I tried a lot and wasted a lot of time.

My suspicion was that some CC doors & windows caused the endless loading, bcs it worked after removing those items. (50/50) BUT!! As soon as I was building , especially on bigger lots, that endless loading started again. Or my game just crashes in build mode, but also in CAS it happened, when I wanted to go back to my lot/house with my sims. However, I noticed that those issues affect builds, that were built before the update!! It has something to do with removing/placing an item in build mode. Objects placed on top of each other, seem to have broken my game/save? But most striking were those objects in the picture below for me!

Whenever I placed and moved them, I got Last Exceptions by the game itself and also MCCC. Error: Exception in <function c_api_clear_parent_object at 0x00007FF4BEE31170>... I had no idea what this meant? I was not even sure, if it was actually that object above in the pic? So I also put Better Exceptions by Twisted Mexi in my game, as additional help, to find out what exactly the issue is. All the mods I had, were save! It seems to be a prob by the game itself.

I checked and asked at EA Help/ Answers HQ and found out, that other ppl also have the same issues with their game. That means, no matter what I try, it won’t help. Sure, I could also rebuild all my houses & builds, from scratch.😡 Downloading them from the gallery and placing them in my new or old save, won’t really help, because most of my builds were built before the update. I tried this and it didn’t work. The only solution that actually worked was to build a house from scratch. But honestly? Who has timet for such a shit?

Anyway, I can play my game. Everything runs smoothly and well, I just can’t switch from my lot/house to CAS or Build mode, without that endless loading or a game crash. I have to move my Sims to an empty lot first, to be able to get back from CAS to my current game session, without a crash. 😒😒

I’m totally annoyed by Sims rn! I’m sick and tired of it! Something always breaks, as soon as a major update comes. 😡Can’t they do their damn job right?? I mean, it doesn’t have to be perfect, but I do not see the point in spending money on a game, that destroys my saves and work in which I have invested a lot of time and effort. I have never complained or regretted spending money on it. I would even be willing to pay a bit more, if things worked properly but..... come on, that sucks and it's not fair!

Anyway, I had to let off some steam and well! Maybe someone here has a better solution I haven’t found yet? But I hope EA will fix this shit! Though....they didn’t even manage to fix the stair rails. Now they look just as crappy as before! 🤦‍♀️

[writing-intheundercroft]

When We're Older || Mine

AO3 Link

Word Count: 9,640

Chapter Rating: Explicit (warning: smut, PIV sex, NSFW, MDNI)

A/N: Thank you as always to my beta, @happyaccidentsonly :) chapter updates may be a little slower with the holidays fast approaching, but still loving this story and Seb <3

November 1892

“What are you doing on Saturday?”

Theo looked up at Sebastian; her hair was in a long plait, and he couldn’t resist the urge to tug on the end.  She was used to the gesture, knowing he wanted her attention.

“I was planning on staying in,” Theo shivered.  It was November, and the winter chill had arrived early. “We’ve got exams coming up, and my brain is still buzzing from the Halloween masquerade last weekend.” she groaned.  

Sebastian smiled at the memory; the masquerade had been a highlight of his fall term, the night spent dancing around the Three Broomsticks with Theo, dressed in matching serpentine masks.  He’d tugged her upstairs to the room Sirona rented to long term boarders, hastily casting silencio and a locking charm on the door.  They had been the last ones to leave the pub, Sirona commanding them out the door at midnight.  When Sebastian had returned for his shift the following morning, she’d made him scrub the room from top to bottom.

Worth it, he thought.

“I was thinking we could have a quick dinner together,” Sebastian lazily threw his arm around her. “It’s been a while since we’ve had a night just the two of us.”

“Are you sure about that?” Theo raised her eyebrows, fighting back a salacious smile.

Sebastian rolled his eyes; bribing Deek to stay out of their business in the Room of Requirement would soon bankrupt him. “I meant a proper date.  You and I, sitting down to dinner with one another, in a public establishment.” he shrugged. “Saturday, early evening?  We can get back in time to quiz each other on the potions exam.”

Theo kissed the back of his hand. “Saturday it is.” she said happily.

The pair walked into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom; Sebastian settled into the desk he shared with Ominis, while Theo sat across the room with Natty. 

“Did you sleep at all last night?” Ominis chirped. 

“A bit,” Sebastian mumbled. “Spent most of it studying for the Runes exam.  Don’t tell her, please.”

“I won’t, but you know she’ll figure out you failed the last quiz eventually.” Ominis cautioned him.

Sebastian was exhausted.  Terribly, unbelievably happy for the first time in what felt like eons, but absolutely exhausted.  Between working for Sirona, researching solutions for Theo, and keeping up on his classes, Sebastian was averaging no more than five hours of sleep a night.  His regimen, which he’d artfully crafted the year prior to keep him on task, had become a burden. Sebastian was up for the day by five o’clock, and usually collapsing into a deep sleep at midnight.  Theo was constantly chastising him for staying up, but he couldn’t help it–his grades were slipping in all his subjects, and he kept falling behind on his assignments for Ancient Runes.  Even Amit, one of the most agreeable students at Hogwarts, had moved to his own desk after enduring two months of Sebastian’s constant questions.

The only nights Sebastian ever got a decent sleep were the ones spent sharing a bed with Theo. Deek had become quite the clever businessman, suddenly increasing the requested rate to leave the two of them alone.  He was happy to pay the fee, often collapsing face down into the Room of Requirement’s plush bed.  The room was now more often being used for them to snuggle and catch up on sleep, the stack of contraceptive potions Professor Sharp had left in the dorm rooms being left untouched.

That fact itself drove Sebastian to the brink of insanity, but pleasure would have to take a back seat to his sleep needs.

“Everyone up, out of your seats!” Professor Hecat called out.  As all the students stood, she whisked their desks to the side of the room with her wand. “Today we will be practicing with an exceptionally foul boggart.  Mr. Moon uncovered it over the summer, and it will soon be transported to the Department of Mysteries for further study.”

The room devolved into whispers; Sebastian looked over at Theo, eagerly craning her head. Any mention of the department of mysteries nowadays had her complete attention.  Professor Weasley and Professor Hecat maintained that she was the top candidate for their recommendation, and she’d already been introduced to the head of the department.

“Professor, is it safe?” Amit asked anxiously.

Professor Hecat gave a sly grin. “Of course it is, Mr. Thakkar. All of you have been well trained in the riddikulus spell, but this will be a test of your adaptivity and swiftness in dealing with the dark arts.  Now, if the class can line up, we’ll get started.”

Sebastian wove through the other students to the front of the class. “Professor, might I have a moment?” he asked.

Hecat looked up at him; Sebastian hadn’t realized how much he’d grown over the summer until he towered over his favorite professor. “Yes, Sallow?”

Sebastian scratched the back of his neck. “I wondered if I might sit this one out.” he said sheepishly. “My boggart…well, it’s Anne, usually.  And I think it would be quite traumatizing for everyone to see her…uh, incapacitated.” the sentence tumbled out of his mouth. 

Hecat gave him a sympathetic look. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Sebastian.  I understand–you may sit on the sidelines for this activity.”

Sebastian sat on the edge of a desk while the rest of the group lined up.  Theo and Ominis were towards the back, chattering with the other students.  

“For today’s exercise, one must remember casting the spell is far more complex than one would originally believe–you must maintain composure, otherwise you’ll fall victim to your fears.” Hecat announced. She summoned a rumbling chest out of her office; it flew to the center of the classroom. 

Banishing a boggart at their skill level should be fairly easy, Sebastian thought.  It would be an easy outstanding grade for anyone in their class. Despite Hecat claiming the boggart was particularly nasty, almost everyone had tamed the boggart in one try, laughter erupting amongst the group.  Hecat leaned against the wall, grinning at her students.  One might even argue the exercise was fun, a moment of levity for the seventh years as they prepared for their term exams. If Sebastian didn’t already know what his boggart was, he would’ve eagerly joined in. 

Amit’s boggart was a werewolf; Everett’s was the giant squid.  Poppy and Natty both faced poachers, while Garreth put up with his aunt Matilda screaming at him. Imelda’s greatest fear appeared to be not making a professional quidditch squad, which had the entire class laughing and the boggart quaking to return to its shelter.  

Ominis nonchalantly walked into the boggart’s range, wand at the ready. His boggart manifested as a black cloud, emitting the voice of his older brother Marvolo. However, he seemed unphased, swishing his wand to transform it into a giant puffskein. Sebastian laughed, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye; had Hobhouse been in their class, he likely would have wet himself.

Last up, Theo swaggered up to the boggart, cheekily flicking her wand in preparation.  She brushed a stray strand of hair out of her face as she braced herself. Sebastian was curious to see what hers was–for all that they’d discussed, she’d never spoken about her fears before. It often felt like Theo wasn’t afraid of anything; how could she be, when she’d bravely charged against a troll on her first day of school?

The puffskein disappeared, swirling into gray matter.  Theo’s arrogant smile faltered when it reached its final form. Sebastian had expected the boggart to take the form of Victor Rookwood or Ranrok, the two menaces who’d terrorized her during fifth year.

Instead, the class silently stared at the boggart, which had taken the form of Professor Fig. Although it didn’t look quite right; he looked quite unnatural. His eyes were glowing red, similar to Theo when she had her power surges. The real Fig always had a bright, jovial expression on his face in life; Boggart Fig looked weary and tired.

“ I’m so disappointed in you,” Boggart Fig scolded. “How could you? ”

Theo’s mouth dropped, her wand slightly faltering. “R-r-riddikulus,” she stuttered.

The boggart swirled into gray matter again, shifting forms.  Her boggart changed from Fig to a strange looking woman with dark brown hair, gathered into a neat bun at her neck.  She held a hand out to Theo, her smile eerie and unsettling. Sebastian had only seen her in the memories from the triptyque, but now Isidora Morganach was standing before the entire class.  

Theo gasped, dropping her wand.

Sebastian wasn’t sure what possessed him. He charged off the desk towards the center of the room, pushing Theo out of the boggart’s way.  He knew exactly what his boggart would be–Anne, cold and gray on the floor.  There would be no surprises; Solomon had taught him how to banish it without a second thought.

The matter swirled in the thick classroom air, and the form of a girl manifested on the ground.  However, it wasn’t Anne.  It was Theo, writhing in pain, sparks of red emitting from her body.  Unlike Theo’s fictional Professor Fig or Isidora, the boggart didn’t need to imagine what she’d look like twisted on the floor.  It fed directly off Sebastian’s memories, perfectly recreating what Theo looked like in front of the Scriptorium door, down to the exact cameo pin she’d been wearing in her ponytail that day. 

“ Riddikulus !” Sebastian panted. 

The boggart relented.  Boggart Theo stood up from the floor, a twisted smile on her face, not too different from Isidora's expression.  She looked entirely unaffected from the cruciatus curse; instead, her eyes were glimmering red as she held her wand up to Sebastian’s neck. 

Sebastian felt himself being tugged away, falling onto the ground.  Professor Hecat was waving her wand, banishing the boggart back to its chest.  Heaving, he looked up to see Theo splayed out on the floor across from him, covering her eyes with her hands.  Ominis was kneeling at her side, whispering to her.

Sebastian turned to look at the rest of the class. Everyone had somber looks on their faces, pushed back to the perimeter of the classroom. Everett was already whispering into Eric Northcott’s ear, and Natty had her hand pressed against her mouth in shock.  Sebastian felt a trickle of worry–Natty was the only person he knew who’d also faced the cruciatus curse, and she likely recognized the spell.

“Alright, class is dismissed.” Hecat called out. “And do know that if I hear any unseemly gossip about our exercise around the castle, perpetrators will be punished.” she snarled. “Sallow, in my office. Mr. Gaunt, please stay with Miss Caulfield for a moment.”

Sebastian scrambled to his feet, knowing that no matter how much Hecat threatened, the rumors would be floating around the castle in minutes.  First, that the hero of Hogwarts had been unable to banish a boggart; secondly, that her greatest fear was Professor Fig.  Astoria Crickett would have a field day rehashing that rumor, and he mentally prepared himself for the backlash that would follow.

Sebastian trailed behind Professor Hecat to her office; he looked back at Theo, who was sitting dejectedly on a desktop while Ominis held her hand. Sebastian knew it was unreasonable, unfathomable–but he couldn’t help feeling a pang of jealousy that he wasn’t the one reassuring Theo. 

The door shut behind him, and Sebastian settled uncomfortably into the seat across Hecat’s desk. 

“I expected better of you, Mr. Sallow.” Hecat tutted, sitting at her desk. “While I admire your heroism, you must allow Miss Caulfield to fail .”

Sebastian’s jaw dropped. “Professor, she was mortified–”

“And she will learn from her mistakes,” Hecat said sternly. “That is the point of being a student, is it not?”

Sebastian opened his mouth to argue, but he knew he wouldn’t win.

“I see your fears have changed as well, Mr. Sallow.” Hecat cleared her throat. “You believed your boggart would be your sister, but it seems to be Miss Caulfield. And you appear to be fearful of her being in pain.”

Sebastian swallowed thickly, wondering where Professor Hecat was going. “Y-yes.” he stuttered.

Hecat folded her hands on the desk. “Sallow, has Theodora told you she’s been a target of the cruciatus curse?” she asked softly. “As your professor, you can tell me. I know she suffered quite a bit at the hands of the ashwinders during your fifth year.”

Sebastian’s heart fell into his stomach, his organs twisting with guilt. “She hasn’t,” he gulped. “Only I worry about it, with her constantly putting herself in danger.” he hated how easily the lie came out of him.

Hecat eased into her chair. “I understand the two of you are close–love always does seem to grow between good friends.  But I must urge you, if you are still planning on my recommendation for the curse breaker program, you need to wisen up.” she warned. “Your blossoming relationship may be interfering with your future career prospects.” 

Sebastian felt sick to his stomach. “I really am trying, Professor,” he said weakly.

“Sallow, I fear you’re stretching yourself too thin.” Hecat sighed. “Professor Twiney has informed me that you’ve barely passed the last two Ancient Runes exams, and you know a mastery of the subject is required for the cursebreaker program.  You also failed the latest potions practical exam.” 

Sebastian shamefully hung his head. “I know, Professor, it’s just been a lot–”

“This is the most important year of your studies, Sebastian.  You’ve always been a bright boy, and you’ve persevered through more than most students could ever imagine–you must push through.” Hecat said determinedly.  She stood, walking around from the desk to put a hand on his shoulder. While Sebastian knew it was meant to be reassuring, it only made him feel worse.

“I understand, Professor.” Sebastian said, looking up at the woman. 

Hecat smiled, eyes wrinkling at the corners, and she patted his shoulder. “You may leave, but send Miss Caulfield in after you.”

Sebastian walked out of her office on unsteady feet; Ominis was sitting on top of the desk with Theo, still holding her hand. Sebastian fought back his frown as he walked up to his two best friends, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Hecat wants to see you now,” he muttered.  

Theo’s eyes had returned to their natural brown, and she slipped off the desk without another word.  Sebastian’s eyes followed her as she walked up the stairs, the door slipping shut behind her.

“Well, that was enough drama for one day,” Ominis huffed.  He elegantly hopped off the desk, brushing his hands against his robes. “Should we head to lunch?”

Sebastian followed him wordlessly through the hallways, Ominis chattering about their classmates and their fears.  He was trying to fill the silence, Sebastian realized; Ominis never spoke that much. It was the first signal that something was wrong, that Theo had said something to their blind companion that had clearly shook him.

Ominis had his hand against the Great Hall’s doors, pausing when he heard Sebastian clear his throat.

“What is it?” Ominis hesitated.

“What did she say to you?” Sebastian asked, gritting his teeth.  “She must have said something.”

“Sebastian, now is hardly the time,” Ominis began, but he was swiftly cut off.

“What did Theo say, Om?” Sebastian asked quietly this time. “I need to know.”

Ominis inhaled sharply, turning to face him.  Sebastian knew Ominis couldn’t see him; his wand was down at his side.  But after years of living with one another, the boys knew each other and their mannerisms too well.  

“She thinks you’re afraid of her.” Ominis said plainly. 

Theo had been excused from her classes for the rest of the day; Sebastian had impatiently tapped his foot all through his last class in anticipation of finding her. The second the final bell had rung, Sebastian took off running from his arithmancy classroom, bolting through the hallways to get back to the common room before Theo could slink up to her room.  He didn’t care about the prefects yelling at him; he clung onto his book bag as he tore through the hallways down to the dungeons. He nearly tumbled down the spiral stairs to the common room, his eyes raking the room for a familiar head of black hair.

“Have you seen Theo?” He gasped, turning to Grace and Imelda, who were sitting on the couch.

Imelda shook her head. “Haven’t seen her since this morning. She’s not in our room either."

“Imelda told us what happened in Defense Against the Dark Arts—Astoria Crickett and her crew were back stirring up nonsense about her and Professor Fig.” Grace advised. “I would leave her be, Sebastian.”

Like hell , Sebastian thought.  He immediately turned, running back up the stairs, two steps at a time.  He was sure he looked like a complete idiot, but nothing could stop him from his search. The Room of Requirement was the only place he could think of, and the trek from the dungeons to the top of the Astronomy Tower was an excruciating run.  Sebastian felt his stomach churning as he turned the top of the stairs, heaving as he pushed open the door.

“Mister Sallow,” Deek squeaked. “Deek wasn’t expecting you this evening,” he said hesitantly.

“Have you seen Theo?” Sebastian choked out. “I’ve been looking for her.”

Deek shook his head. “Miss Theo hasn’t been here all day, not since she picked up her potions this morning.” he gestured over to her potions station, which for once, wasn’t bubbling. 

Sebastian groaned; if she wasn’t in the Room of Requirement, it meant she was likely in Undercroft.  At least the Defense Against the Dark Arts Tower was a quick walk away. He quickly bid the house elf goodbye, trying his best not to fall down the stairs as he made his way to the other wing of the castle.  Dodging all of the other students, on their way to dinner in the Great Hall, Sebastian began jogging through the hall.  He passed Professor Ronen’s classroom, going down the mahogany stairs.  He stopped to catch his breath on the third floor, looking up at the rich tapestries on the wall.  He’d always see Theo sitting on the benches against them, waiting for her private tutoring sessions with Professor Fig.

Professor Fig, whose office was just down the hall.

It all became obvious to him then, thinking back to the nights Theo would disappear from the common room towards the end of fifth year.  Things had still been awkward between them, but he always made sure to check on her usual hiding spots. On one particular night, he’d decided to check Professor Fig’s office, finding her curled up on the chair. He’d held her while she cried, wetting his shirt; the moment had rekindled their friendship.

Sebastian changed his course, his brisk pace slowing as he approached the room. The room had been locked for the majority of sixth year while the ministry carried out their inquiry on his death.  Ever since they’d returned for seventh year, the classroom had been open, now just a storage space. Mr. Moon had just cast a basic locking charm on the door, easy for any student to bypass.  Sebastian slipped through the door, shutting it softly behind him.  The classroom was empty, but he could hear a gramophone playing in the distance, up in the office.

“Theo?” Sebastian murmured, pushing the door in wider. 

Theo was sitting on a dusty chair, the one in the corner of the room.  Her feet were tucked underneath her as she waved her wand, little paper birds flying in the air.  The gramophone was playing the same song it always played–one of Professor Fig’s favorites, Sebastian presumed.

“They took all of his belongings when the ministry finished their inquiry,” Theo mused. “Black claimed most of the artifacts belonged to the school, so they’re somewhere around the castle.  Most of his personal effects were put away in a Gringotts vault, for when I turned seventeen.”

“He named you his heir?” Sebastian raised his eyebrows.

She nodded. “Professor Weasley told me when she gave me Miriam’s watch for my birthday. Honestly, it made me feel worse–like I’ve let him down.” she uttered.

Sebastian knelt down on the floor in front of her. “Theo, he would’ve been so proud of you.” he whispered. “He would’ve never been disappointed in you.”

“We were talking about what I’d do with the repository,” Theo was fighting back tears. “He said I was being wise, leaving the power in the repository. He promised we’d research over the summer, figure out what to do with Isidora’s magic.  We were brainstorming a solution together when Ranrok attacked.”

Sebastian pulled her hand into his. “You did the right thing. You went back for the power to keep the school safe, you said so yourself.  Fig would’ve agreed, Theo.”

Her eyes were shut tightly, her fingers laced through his. “That’s not what you were telling me over the summer,” she said cautiously. “Are you afraid of me?”

Sebastian froze. “That’s what you’re so upset about?” he panted. “That I would be afraid of you?”

“I overheard you talking to Ominis while I was in bed, about my eyes.” she claimed. Sebastian felt a flicker of shame; he hadn’t realized she’d been awake to hear them.  “That you’re not sure you trust me.  And you…you want to fix me, when I’m not sure there’s anything to fix.”

“Theo, that’s not how I meant it.” Sebastian assured her.

“Then why am I your boggart?” Theo asked, sniffling. “Boggarts show your true fears, and yours showed me, my eyes.” she accused him. “You’re lying to me.”

“I might have been scared at first,” Sebastian admitted, “but I know you, Theo.  I know you could never hurt me. I only worry about losing you.” He grasped their hands together, squeezing them tight. “Theo, I’ve already lost so much.  My parents, Anne…we don’t know what this power will do to you.  We don’t even know how it’s possible for you to hold it within.”

“I do know,” Theo echoed softly. “I’ve known for a while. Or at least I think I do.”

“Tell me,” Sebastian pleaded. "Explain it to me, I'm begging you."

Theo pursed her lips together, letting out a low sigh. “I told you I took the power because I thought it wasn’t safe under the school.  That was only partly true.” she fumbled with his fingers. “I lied to you.  That’s not the only reason.”

“What is it, Theo?” Sebastian asked, fearful of her answer.

She looked up at him, brown eyes wet with tears. “I did it because I love you, Sebastian.” she confessed. “Before I even had romantic feelings for you, I loved you.  I think I was yours before I even knew I wanted you.”

“Why would you do it? For me, of all people?” Sebastian strained. 

Theo chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully. “I’ve been keeping a secret from you all this time, one that would hurt you.” she admitted.

Sebastian was silent, unsure of what to say next.

“I’ve been healing Anne for the past year,” Theo wiped at her eyes. “I meet with her once a month, maybe two.  I never know when I’ll see her next; she sends me an owl when the pain starts to flare up again.”

Sebastian felt his heart drop into his stomach. “Anne?” he croaked. “She’s okay?”

Theo nodded, wisps of her black hair sticking to her tear stained cheeks. “She’s doing really well, Seb.  And I knew I’d be hurting you, keeping this secret from you, but I couldn’t let her waste away.  She’s half of you–you’re half of her.  You wouldn’t be the same if she died.”

“Oh Theo,” Sebastian groaned, pulling her down from the chair to hug her. “I don’t know how you’d ever thought I’d be angry at you.”

“You’re not mad?” her voice was muffled against his cloak. “That I’ve been lying to you?”

“Mad?” Sebastian pulled away, his hands flying to her cheeks. “How could I ever be mad at you?  You’re…you’ve kept Anne alive .” he breathed, pressing a kiss to her lips. “How does it work?  Are you absorbing her pain, like Isidora?  Is it affecting her soul, the way Isidora’s magic did?” he asked eagerly, wanting nothing more than to understand.

Theo shook her head. “Professor Fig and I did quite a lot of research into it, actually.  There’s so much we know about magic now, more than Isidora ever would’ve known.  You really do have to be so specific with your intention, so you don’t take what you’re not meant to.” Theo explained. 

“Are you in pain?” Sebastian asked, pressing his forehead to hers.

“No, I’m not.” Theo promised. “There’s a more potent magic that protects me…at least, I think it does.”

“What is it?” Sebastian asked eagerly.

She bit down on her lip. “It sounds ridiculous, but it’s love.” she cooed. “Professor Fig gave me the idea a long time ago.  He said love was the most powerful magic, and with the right intent, could protect, cure, even possibly revive.  To love deeply, unselfishly, without fear…it can do the most amazing things.” she admitted. “There’s a book, you should read it–”

Sebastian didn’t want to hear more.  Instead, he pressed her to the ground, his lips locking against hers. “I love you so much.” Sebastian groaned into her mouth. “You’re the most amazing woman. Merlin, I can’t believe you’re mine.”

She laughed, tears still streaming down her face as she kissed him back. “I love you too, an awful lot.” she sniffed as Sebastian placed kisses on her salty cheeks. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

“I could never,” Sebastian said fiercely. “I swear it now, I’m going to spend the rest of my life worshiping you.” he declared, peppering kisses against her jaw.

“Don’t get carried away, we still have to go down for dinner.” Theo chuckled and sniffed at the same time.

“I didn’t think it was possible to love you more,” Sebastian nuzzled her neck. “But somehow, I do.”  

The couple stayed on the floor for a little while longer, listening to the song play on repeat. Sebastian had questions, of course, but he figured he now had the rest of his life to ask them.  And Anne–Anne, of all people–was alive and thriving.  The worry he had over his sister was always bubbling within him, pushed to the bottom as he tried to improve himself, but now he could relax.

Theo had been keeping her healthy. His heart felt like it was doing flips as he digested what she’d said–she’d absorbed the power long before they’d started dating, before they’d even kissed.  Way before Sebastian had felt the burning jealousy he had whenever another boy spoke to her.  They’d only been friends then, and yet she’d loved him.

Mine , he thought.  And he was hers. Before they'd even known that they'd wanted each other, they'd belonged to one another.

It was only when Theo’s stomach growled that they got to their feet; dinner would start in five minutes, and if they hurried, they could get to the Great Hall in time. Hopefully Ominis would have saved them seats–if not, Sebastian would be more than happy to run to the kitchens to fetch her food.  He’d never complain about carrying her or running through the castle for her ever again.

“Do you think Anne would be open to seeing me?” Sebastian asked eagerly, swinging Theo’s arm back and forth as they walked through Central Hall.

“I’ll ask her the next time I see her.” Theo promised. “She and I…well, it’s an interesting relationship.  I can never tell if she hates me, or thinks we’re friends.”

Sebastian snorted. “She’s like that with girls she doesn’t know well. I’m sure with time she’ll love you just as much as I do.” he assured her.

They passed the Ancient Runes classroom; Professor Twiney gave them a curious look as they walked by. Once they were past earshot, Theo cleared her throat.

“I meant to ask,” Theo interjected, “how your Runes exam went.”

Sebastian held back the wince on his face. “It was fine,” he lied. 

“Really?” Theo asked, eyebrows raised. “Amit said he had to switch desks, you were asking for too many answers.”

Sebastian cursed the Ravenclaw under his breath. “It wasn’t my best work, but you don’t have to worry.” It felt wrong to lie, but he knew he couldn’t let Theo down, not after everything she’d done for him.

“That’s fine,” Theo shrugged. “I’ll help you study over the weekend. Perhaps we can work on your translations over our dinner.” she suggested.

“I was thinking about that,” Sebastian mused, tightening his grip on her hand. “And as much as I’d love to have you out in public...perhaps we should do something just the two of us. Alone .”

“Bet Deek’s pocketing half your salary these days,” Theo snorted. “Room of Requirement, then?”

Sebastian gave her a devilish grin. “Room of Requirement.  It’s about time we put that bed to good use,” he winked.

Theo chuckled, letting out a big sigh as she slumped against him. “It’s good to not have secrets anymore.” she admitted.

Sebastian pushed open the door to the Great Hall; the food had just been summoned, and he could see Ominis at the Slytherin table, two empty seats by his side.  He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his teetering grades from Theo for much longer, but for now, Sebastian wanted to enjoy the relative peace that had been granted to them. 

Theo let go of his hand, jogging over to the table.  Sebastian’s steps faltered, a thought stopping him in his tracks as he watched Theo slide into the bench next to Ominis, chattering animatedly. The power of the repository was somehow living inside of her–consequence unknown.  While she’d assured him that her love was keeping the power at bay, Sebastian only became further dedicated to understanding and researching a solution for her.

The tricky part now, he thought, was how to preserve the power–preserve it, so that Anne might live.

“Seb,” Theo called out.  It broke him out of his thoughts, shaking his head as he looked over at his two best friends. “Are you coming?”

“Coming,” Sebastian echoed, walking towards them. 

Anne was healthy, and Theo loved him.  Those two facts alone could give Sebastian the power to push through.

September 1898

“Everyone is staring at us,” Sebastian muttered.  

“Don’t mind them,” Ominis huffed.

Sebastian grumbled to himself, walking a few paces behind Ominis and Theo.  Garreth Weasley’s supper club had been a humble watering hole when he left London three years prior, but it had somehow become the most popular dining establishment in Diagon Alley in his absence.  Everyone watched as the trio entered, whispering to one another as they climbed the stairs.  Sebastian nodded curtly at Cyrus Lestrange, his former dormmate, who was standing amongst the patrons. Once they were out of sight, Sebastian could hear the music and chattering pick up again.

Theo guided the boys to one of the private dining rooms; Sebastian’s face flushed as she pulled back the curtain, revealing Natty, Poppy, and Imelda.

“Welcome home, Sebastian!” Poppy exclaimed, pulling him into a tight hug.  The petite brunette hadn’t changed much at all; if anything, she looked a little more grizzled after her time away as a magizoologist.  Her bob was bluntly cut at her chin, but her cherub-like cheeks betrayed her age.

“Sallow,” Imelda gave him a heavy slap on the back. Now one of the world’s most distinguished chasers, Imelda’s embrace felt more like a beater’s club against his spine. Sebastian had often seen her picture in the paper, wearing her Holyhead Harpies kit.  It almost seemed strange to see her wearing a formal dress, bright gold and green to match her team’s colors.

Sebastian approached Natty next; he’d already seen her before at the Ministry of Magic, but it was still a treat to have her around.  “I was not surprised when Ominis sent an owl canceling dinner,” she winked, giving him and Theo a haughty grin.

“Sit, sit,” Ominis commanded, letting everyone take their place around the table. “Figured we’d have a quick dinner with the six of us, and then join the rest of the club for the festivities,” he announced.  Despite hating society events, Ominis was the most picturesque host.  He was seated at the head of the table, smiling broadly at the group assembled. 

“Garreth has a string quartet playing most nights,” Theo leaned over to whisper in his ear, her breath tickling his skin. “After the boys smoke their cigars.”

Sebastian bit his lower lip. “I’d much rather spend the night with you,” he murmured.

“Enough of your whispers,” Imelda complained. “Haven’t you two had enough time together?”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, chuckling as he looked back at the group. “Never enough time with her, I’m afraid.” He slipped his hand under the table, resting it on Theo’s thigh.

Poppy gave them a beaming smile, leaning her chin into the palm of her hand. “Oh, I’m just so happy to see the two of you next to each other again.  And with Ominis too–the trio, back in action.”

“No action from me,” Ominis waved his arms. “I’ve had a lifetime of trouble already with those two, I’d very much like to enjoy my peace and quiet.”

Natty poured more wine into her glass. “I doubt you’ll have a moment of peace with Sebastian home.” 

“Quite right, Natty.” Ominis chuckled. “You know, Sebastian did tackle me in front of Prewett and Hobhouse…it was quite a sight.”

The velvet curtain was pushed open; Sebastian frowned as Theo brushed his hand off of her leg. His eyes went to the doorway, seeing a cheerful Garreth Weasley step into the room.  His red hair was slicked back, wearing a fine burgundy velvet suit. 

“Sebastian Sallow, my good man,” Garreth announced, making a quick stride over to the table to shake his hand. “Welcome home.”

Sebastian stood, shaking the redhead’s hand eagerly. “Weasley, good to see you.  You’ve done well, I see.”

Garreth grinned broadly, his hands on his hips. “Hottest spot in town; Aunt Matilda was quite shocked at how badly the wizarding community needed a dinner club.”  He turned his head as a parade of little house elves puttered into the room, conjuring their meal. “Took in some retired house elves,” he murmured. “They drive a hard bargain, but nothing beats their cooking skills.”

Sebastian snorted. “Well, glad to see the place is still standing.”

“You’ll be at Prewett’s wedding, won’t you?” Garreth asked. “With Sebastian Sallow back on the market, I’m sure it’ll be a splash.” he winked.

“Gar,” Natty chided. “Theo’s right here.”

Garreth blushed. “Sorry, Theo.”

Theo merely rolled her eyes, waving him off as she grabbed Ominis’s hand. Sebastian knew she was only playing the part, but something in his chest burned at the idea of her dismissing Garreth’s quip about Sebastian’s status.  He never wanted to picture a reality where they weren’t together, but he would’ve hoped she would pine after him a little harder.

This is ridiculous, Sebastian reminded himself. He’d only spent the last twenty four hours wrapped up in her bed, yet he was jealous of a fake relationship.

“Well, it’s good to see you regardless–we’ll catch up in the cigar lounge.” Garreth promised, disappearing behind the curtain once the food had been settled.

Sebastian took his seat again, placing his hand back on Theo’s leg, its rightful place.  

“Well, with that out of the way, shall we enjoy our meal?” Imelda cut the silence. “I’ve heard the lamb is quite spectacular–stole the recipe right from the Hogwarts kitchens.”

The dinner went on, but everyone felt the slight tension in the room.  Sebastian poked at his dinner plate glumly.  Even Theo’s hand over his didn’t ease his discomfort, and the rest of the guests knew it.  It wasn’t long before Imelda, Natty, and Poppy were excusing themselves to join the other ladies in the parlor. 

“Are you two alright?” Ominis asked hesitantly, holding his wand out.  “Shall we head to the lounge, Sebastian?”

“Just a moment, Om.” Theo said gently. “Sebastian will find you.”

Ominis disappeared behind the curtain, and Theo backed Sebastian against the table.  She held him by the lapels of his dinner jacket, pouting up at him. 

“Are you cross with me?” she asked quietly.

Sebastian groaned. “Never, I could never be cross with you.” he muttered. “It’s just Weasley–reminding me how we have to pretend .” Sebastian’s voice was strained. 

“Seb, it’s only a little while longer.” Theo reminded him. “Ominis and I are trying to come up with a plan, it’s only been a few days.” 

He rolled his eyes, slumping against her. “I know, I know. My fault for not telling you I was coming home, anyways.” he grumbled. “Promise me a dance tonight, will you?”

“I’ll give you as many dances as possible,” Theo promised, pressing her lips to his jaw. “And quite a few more when we’re home, I might add.”

Sebastian felt his face heat up as she backed away, smiling proudly at him.  “You enjoy cigars with Ominis, and I’ll find you in the ballroom.” she promised.  Sebastian’s eyes lingered on her form as she sashayed away; the dark green taffeta gown she’d chosen for the night reminded him of the inky waters of the Black Lake.

Garreth’s club had been retrofitted into an old townhouse in Diagon Alley, the rooms magically charmed to expand, adding nooks and crannies in the house for private parties.  Sebastian found himself wandering through the hallways, nodding at familiar faces as he passed.  Arthur Plummly and Leonora Everleigh gave him polite smiles; Lucan Brattleby stopped him for nearly five minutes, the young auror wanting all the details of Sebastian’s adventures abroad.  He could’ve sworn he saw Andrew Larson on the next floor up, ducking out from behind a curtain with a very paranoid looking Philippa Bulstrode.  

Sebastian passed another room, pausing as he heard a familiar voice.

“Did you hear Sallow is back in town?” 

Sebastian pressed himself against the wall, listening from the doorway. Clearly whoever was in the room had decided to forego silencing charms.

“I did–saw him come into the club with Ominis Gaunt and Theodora Caulfield.” Sebastian recognized the voice-it was Cyrus Lestrange, who'd seen them earlier than evening.

“How strange,” the man tutted. The other voice was Peter Parkinson, his former roommate from Hogwarts. “Can you imagine how awkward that must be?”

“I feel for him–left for his job, only to come home and find out his best mate stole his woman.” Lestrange let out a low whistle. “Honestly, I’m shocked the Gaunts are letting him keep up with Theo.  She’s a half-blood, after all.”

“Yes, but she has that peculiar magic,” Parkinson pointed out. 

“You know the Gaunts,” Lestrange reminded him. “Blood purists, complete fanatics.  No matter how powerful Theo is, they’ll kill Ominis if he marries her.  Merlin forbid he get her pregnant.”

Parkinson laughed. “That reminds me, Violet wrote this morning–she ran into the two of them buying contraceptive potions at the apothecary.”

Sebastian swore under his breath; damn Violet McDowell and her incessant need to gossip.

“Ominis and Theo?”

“No, Theo with Sallow,” Parkinson took a second to puff on his cigar. “Just like old times, eh?”

“I’m not surprised,” Lestrange chuckled darkly. “Imagine the next slew of Gaunts come out freckled and brunette…not like Ominis will be able to tell the difference anyways. It’ll be like Larson and Philippa all over again.”

Sebastian backed away from the door as they laughed, red in the face with anger.  His hands balled up into fists as he stalked down the hallway, back to the staircase. He couldn’t care less what people said about him, but he’d be damned if he let rumors spread about Theo.  It felt like their school years all over again; while she seemed immune to any rumors spread about her, Sebastian couldn’t stand hearing her name come from other’s mouths. 

“Sebastian!” Garreth roared, waving his hands at him. “You’ve completely missed the lounge.”

Sebastian shook out of his anger, turning to the redhead. “It’s been a while.” he lied. “Forgot where it was.”

“Well, you’re just in time–music just started up, the ballroom is buzzing.” Garreth grinned. “Come on, get your wits about you; there are plenty of single women in there to dance with.” As Garreth pushed him into the large ballroom, Sebastian had to remind himself that he did in fact quite like him, and that punching him without reason would be a bad look indeed.

Garreth directed him to a group of their classmates; he quite eagerly took a glass of champagne from the table, downing it in three large gulps.

“Sebastian!” Amit greeted him. “It’s good to see you, my friend.”

“Amit,” Sebastian acknowledged him, craning his head over the crowd to see who was on the dance floor. 

“You’ve just missed everyone, taking off for the first dance.” Everett said, sliding his glasses up his nose. “Prewett and his bride, Northcott and Poppy.”

Andrew Larson appeared out of seemingly nowhere, also sipping on his champagne. “Jenkins has asked Natty to dance, poor man has two left feet. Hope she comes out unscathed.”  He gave Sebastian a rather pointed look before gazing back out at the dance floor.

“Oh, Ominis and Theo are dancing.” Amit pointed out.  “They are rather graceful together, aren’t they–oof!”

Sebastian pretended he didn’t see Everett elbow Amit in the side, and Amit’s apologetic look that followed.  He stared out at the dance floor, where Theo was twirling around with Ominis.  The two were laughing together as Theo danced with Ominis, the pair swaying elegantly.  Again, her taffeta gown shimmered under the candle light, the beading on her scandalously low neckline sparkling from across the room.

“Excuse us,” Everett said, tugging Amit away.  Sebastian could hear him scolding the poor man–it seemed like everyone was walking on eggshells around him, expecting him to lash out in anger at any moment.

“They make a handsome couple,” Larson observed, lifting his glass to his lips again.

“They do,” Sebastian echoed through gritted teeth.

Larson sighed loudly. “I guess that’s our lot in life, isn’t it?  Watching the girl who got away.”

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean.” Sebastian furrowed his eyebrows at him.  

Larson looked back out at the dance floor. Not far from Ominis and Theo, Philippa Greengrass, now Bulstrode, was dancing with her husband.  The couple looked mismatched; Philippa was tall and willowy, her brutish husband quite stout besides to her.  Nonetheless, she danced on his arm with a placid smile, eyes flitting back to Larson every now and then.

“That’s not what it’s like.” Sebastian insisted.  While he knew the truth, he couldn’t suppress the bubbling resentment that was rising in his throat.  

“That’s what I told myself six years ago,” Larson muttered, gulping down the rest of his champagne and setting the coupe on a table behind them. “Take my advice, Sallow–move on, before it’s too late.”

The song ended as Larson walked away, and Sebastian felt like there was a cinder block pinned to his chest. His heart pattered as Theo walked towards him, clapping for the musicians with Ominis’s hand on the small of her back. Ominis had never been touchy in their youth, complaining about hugs and nudges during their school years.  Sebastian had taken note of how comfortable he’d become around Theo in his absence; it had started with Ominis hanging her blouses, and now it was glaringly obvious as he wrapped an arm around her waist.

Mine, Sebastian’s heart roared. Not his.

“I’ve had my fill of dancing,” Ominis announced loudly. “I think I’ll retire for the night–Sebastian, would you mind terribly accompanying Theo?”

Inquiring minds were staring at them, so Sebastian swallowed his pride and smiled politely. “Of course,” he nodded his head, quickly shaking Ominis’s hand. 

“Behave, you two.” Ominis snickered.

“Can’t make any promises,” Theo patted his cheek, pressing a quick kiss to the opposite one.  

Ominis made a show of his exit, which left Theo and Sebastian standing next to each other.  The musicians picked back up on their instruments, starting the next song.

“I believe I promised you a dance, Mr. Sallow.” Theo said sweetly. “Do me the honor?”

“It would be mine, entirely.” Sebastian murmured, taking her hand.  He led her out onto the dance floor, knowing the entire room’s eyes were on them.  With that in mind, he placed his hand quite low on her waist, gripping her through the fabric of her gown. It had been too long since he’d done a proper dance, so he glanced down at Theo quite shyly.

“I fear I’ve forgotten the steps,” he admitted sheepishly.

Theo gave him a sparkling smile. “I’ll guide you, don’t worry.” she reassured him.

The music picked up speed and Sebastian locked his eyes on Theo’s.  She had always been beautiful, with shiny hair and a pretty complexion. Despite all the time they’d spent together since his return, Sebastian wasn’t sure they’d ever have enough time for him to properly digest how she’d changed in his absence.  Her posture was different, even cockier than she’d been when they were teenagers.  Cheekbones slightly sharper, lips a bit poutier (perhaps still swollen from the kisses he’d lavished her with that afternoon). 

“What are you staring at?” Theo asked teasingly.

“Just how ravishing you look,” Sebastian hummed, pulling her tighter.

Theo rolled her eyes. “There are people watching, Seb.”

“I don’t care,” Sebastian declared. “We’re the talk of the town, if you haven’t heard.”

More people joined the dance floor, crowding around the pair.  Sebastian spun Theo around, grabbing her by the waist again to lift her in the air.  The dance steps came back to him quite easily, reminding him of their youth.  Back then, before the Crimson Lion was an elegant establishment, Sebastian and Theo had spent many evenings dining and dancing with their friends, up until the wee hours of the morning.

“What have you overheard?” Theo asked, clasping her hand on his shoulder as he lifted her.

“Well, for starters, everyone thinks I’m about to combust.” Sebastian chuffed. “They all think I’m about to murder Ominis for stealing you away.”

Theo grinned at him. “Is that not every girl’s dream, to have the two most eligible bachelors chasing her?”

“My nightmare,” Sebastian growled, tugging her body flush against his. “I can’t wait to prove you’re mine, only mine.”  He rather scandalously tipped her chin up towards him, his fingers trailing down her neck. “Where’s your necklace?” he observed, noticing the silver chain was gone.

“Left it at home,” Theo licked her berry stained lips. “I took it off while you were in the bath. Left it somewhere for you to find.”

Sebastian blinked at her,  picturing Theo slipping the engagement ring off her neck, hiding it in the house. He knew Theo wasn’t a legilimens, but somehow she’d read his mind that morning, knowing he was brainstorming the perfect way to steal the bauble back from her. They’d torn her dressing room apart already the night before–Sebastian was ready to do it again, eager to find the ring and fall to his knees in front of her. 

The song ended, and Theo stepped away from him. He fussed at the loss of her as the music stopped and she stepped away, clapping for the musicians. 

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Theo asked, giving him a cheeky smile.

“Come with me,” Sebastian growled, tugging her hand away from the ballroom.  He could feel everyone’s eyes raking over them, watching as he stalked out of the ballroom dragging Theo behind him.

“Sebastian!” Theo chided him. “Everyone’s watching.”

“I don’t care,” He strained. “I want to be alone with you.”

Theo pretended to protest, but her feet willingly followed him out of the room. Her little heeled slippers clacked on the stairs as he tugged her up to one of the private floors.  

“Quick, in here.” Theo insisted, pushing him into one of the powder rooms.  She pulled her wand from the folds of her skirt, wordlessly locking the door behind them.

“Non-verbal, nice work,” Sebastian started to say, soon cut off by the feeling of her lips on his.

“You’re maddening,” Theo snapped between kisses. “You knew everyone was watching—”

“And I had to prove yet again that you are mine.” Sebastian slid his tongue easily into her mouth, his hands roving up her waist and to the bodice of her dress. “Tell me, do you always wear pretty dresses with this low of a neckline?” he whispered, pressing her back against the sink.

“I was saving this one for an occasion where you wouldn’t rip it,” Theo laughed against his lips. “You’ve destroyed two of my dresses already.”

“Well, I shall endeavor to take good care of this one,” Sebastian said, his fingertips ghosting the top of her breasts. “We’ll keep it on, then.” He rucked off his dinner jacket, letting it fall to the floor. His vest quickly followed.

“Keep it on?” Theo asked, raising her eyebrows.

“Keep. It. On.” Sebastian murmured, his hands trailing underneath her skirt.  He smiled as she gasped, his fingers pushing her undergarments aside to slide against her core.

“Sebastian!” Theo smacked his shoulder. 

“You’re the one who cast a silencing charm on the door.” Sebastian waggled his eyebrows. “Besides, I can’t exactly remember, but we have shagged in this club quite a few times…” he reminded her.

Theo’s head fell back, pretty little gasps spilling from her lips as she tried to talk sense into him. “We…were…we were younger then.” 

“Oh my darling, that doesn’t mean we can’t keep having fun.” Sebastian plunged two fingers into her easily, pumping them in and out of her as he steadied her against the sink.

“You’re infuriating,” Theo muttered, fumbling with the clasp on his trousers.  “Don’t mess up my hair,” she warned, her hand sliding in against his arousal.

Sebastian choked back a groan as she gripped his cock, her thumb running over the slit. “We’re quite good at this, for not having done it in so long.” His forehead fell against her shoulder, savoring every second of her hands on him.

“Hmm.  Like riding a bike–or perhaps in this case, a broom.” Theo laughed breathily, turning to a gasp as he curled his fingers inside of her.

“Turn around,” Sebastian bit down on his lower lip. “Lean over the sink.”

“I want to look at you,” Theo whined.

“You will,” Sebastian grunted, pulling his hand out from beneath her skirts to turn her around.  Theo’s hands planted on the porcelain top, looking back at Sebastian in the mirror.  She blushed as he pulled her skirts up with one hand, the other pressing her back to arch perfectly for him.

“I want you to watch,” Sebastian growled, unclasping his suspenders. Once freed from their constraint, he shoved his trousers down to his knees, gripping his length as he stared at Theo in the mirror.  Her face was a mixture of interest and amusement, her eyes burning into him. Sebastian stroked himself, pressing his tip against her warm center. He cherished the stuttered moan that came out of her mouth as he prodded her. His own breath faltered as he sunk his length fully into her, watching her curiosity fade into pleasure as he grinded his hips against her body.

“Seems Violet McLaggen has spread the word we’re being intimate again,” Sebastian whispered against her ear, gritting his teeth as she pushed her hips back to meet his thrusts. “So, soon everyone will know.”

“Don’t lie,” Theo moaned, her head tilting back to hit his shoulder. “That gave you some pleasure, didn’t it?” Her mouth dropped open, eyes shutting as she reached his arm around, tangling her fingers in his hair.

“Eyes open,” Sebastian instructed, withdrawing his length from her.  When she whined at the loss of him, eyes opening, he speared himself into her once more. Sebastian’s arm trailed down to her waist, tugging her even closer to his body.  He did always prefer to have her bare beneath him, but something about taking her in the bathroom, her pretty dress rucked over her waist, made him feral. He rocked his hips into her over and over again, rutting his cock in just the right angle. The sound of skin slapping, their shared moans, and the crinkling of taffeta filled the room.

Thank Merlin for silencing charms, he thought.

“Sebastian,” Theo let out a staggered moan. “Sebastian, you’re going to make me–”

“I said, eyes open.” Sebastian grunted, quickening his pace. He relished the way Theo’s eyes looked glazed over; for three years, he’d spent night over night, dreaming of fucking her into a hazy state. Every morning he woke up stiff and unsatisfied, desperately fucking his fist while wishing it was her. Now, having felt her flutter around him for just the last 24 hours, Sebastian wasn’t sure he could ever be convinced to leave rainy old London ever again. 

With one arm wrapped around her waist, the other against the sink edge to steady himself, Sebastian knew his orgasm wasn’t far away. Theo opened her mouth, a soft whine spilling from her lips as she found her climax. She cried out his name as her hands flew against the mirror, palms pressed flat against the foggy surface. Sebastian imagined her walking out of the powder room, pretending nothing untoward had happened, with his seed secretly dripping down her thighs the rest of the night. While he hated keeping up their ruse, the idea of her dancing prettily in the ballroom again after screaming his name was enough to make him snap.

“You’re mine. Mine, mine, mine,” Sebastian groaned, choking out curses against the crook of her neck as he buried his cock into her.  He pumped his seed into her quivering cunt, grateful that she’d remembered to take one of the contraceptive potions after that morning’s activities. 

Fully satiated, Sebastian gingerly pulled out of her, tugging her skirts down as he tucked himself back into his trousers.

“Are you finished now?” Theo panted, holding onto the sink with trembling hands to steady herself.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “You’d like to go again? I’ll have you wherever you want me, but perhaps you’d feel more comfortable if we found a bed.”

Theo whirled around, laughing breathily as she placed a hand on his chest. “Being jealous, I meant.”

Sebastian reddened, choking back his own laugh. “Er, maybe.”

“Let me guess,” Theo fastened the buttons at the front of his trousers. “You got all riled up hearing the rumors about us.” She clipped one of his suspenders on while he worked on the other, sliding the straps over his now sweaty shirt.

Sebastian gave her a guilty shrug, dipping down to the floor to pick up his discarded vest and jacket. “Perhaps I did. Could you blame me?  I had to walk into the ballroom and see the most beautiful woman in the world, dancing on my best friend’s arm.” he demurred, pressing a kiss to her cheek. He slid on the vest, shaking out any wrinkles from his jacket.

“Seb,” Theo sighed, lurching forward to button his vest. “You know I’m yours.  I’ve been yours since we were sixteen.  I don’t know why you’d be jealous of Ominis, of all people.” Once she’d finished with him, she turned back around to the mirror to appraise her appearance. “You’ve mucked up my hair.  Everyone will have known we were shagging.” 

Sebastian chewed on his lower lip, leaning against the door. “I overheard Lestrange, comparing us to the Bulstrodes.” he admitted, fingers curling into his dinner jacket. “That might have done me in.”

“Compare how?” Theo asked, patting down a curl.

Sebastian lolled his head to the side. “Said he wouldn’t be surprised if the next era of Gaunts had freckles and brown hair.” he muttered.

Theo turned around, placing a hand on his cheek. “Rest assured, I only ever plan on having your babies.  They may have rather large heads and be quite stubborn like their father, but nonetheless, my children will all be Sallows.” she assured him, pinching his cheek.

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “I don’t have a big head.” he mumbled.

Theo snorted, turning back to the mirror.  She dabbed a piece of tissue against her forehead. “You had one as a child, Anne told me. Said your mum was quite worried about it.”

Sebastian flushed, realizing that not only had Theo been talking about his parents with his sister, but had also likely brought up the topic of having his children with her.  His heart ached–he missed Anne, but had not forgotten the cruel words she’d imparted on him during their last conversation. That had been five long years ago, but her words were burned onto his soul.

“Shall we retire for the night?” Sebastian asked. “We’ll have to make a quick getaway.”

Theo turned to him, smiling earnestly. “Let’s go home.  Perhaps you can start looking for your bounty.” she winked. “Let me leave first, and you wait a few moments after.  I’ll pretend we had a row, and you can meet me back at home.”

Home, Sebastian thought. Home, where they could share a bed, and not hide their relationship.  Home, where his mother’s engagement ring was hidden, waiting for him to find it.

“Yeah, I’ll meet you at home.” Sebastian repeated, a goofy smile on his lips.

[memory-echo]

To Leave or not to Live

There’s been a lot of confusion over the latest chapters. After Seiko falls down the stairs, Seiichi takes it upon himself to take care of her. The question on the tip of everyone’s tongue is ‘why’. Why does he go through all the trouble of taking care of Seiko, given their history...?

If this is to be taken literally, this is as good as a DNR. It's not like she signs a document or anything, and it's not even like "she’s right in the head" to make this kind of decision for herself, but if you take this seriously, she's not very keen on living. Not surprising, since she was never very keen on living, anyway.

For context sake: the year before, Seiko told Seiichi all about her crappy childhood and he realized the truism that hurt people hurt people, and left. He continued to pay for her rent, but they didn't contact each other for over a year, and he started to live his life in a much more positive manner. All good, so far. Then she falls off the stairs and he's sucked back into the madness.

So, why is he taking care of his mother, after she told him that she didn’t want him to do anything? Does he think he can build a more positive relationship with her? 

I’ve read comments of people who think this line is menacing. It could easily go both ways: it could be “there's no way out for you, but don't worry, I won't let you die alone” or it could be “so, you want to die? I will force you to live, then”, but I don't think it's either of those.

Rather, both interpretations or possibilities are predicated on a lie. The fact is that Seiko just isn't there anymore; she's just a bag of bones. If Seiichi wants to start a new positive relationship, it's too late for that. If he wants some kind of revenge for what she did to him, she's not there to feel guilty or remorseful or anything, really, her brain isn't there at all. I don't know what he's trying to do, but whatever it is, he's just wasting his time and money.

I think this has nothing to do with revenge. When he hears about her accident, he imagines that it's karma for trying to kill his cousin. It has nothing to do with the fact that she abused him for 13 years. Also, what kind of revenge includes this? 

Wasting money on rent, spending resources on food and adult diapers doesn't seem like revenge to me. One could argue that it's the exact same situation as it was in the past: Seiko had complete power over her son and now the tables have turned. But you know what the difference is? Seiko used her husband's money to keep control over her son, she used his resources to show how dissatisfied she was about her life. There was no self-sacrifice, though, it wasn't her money, which makes it very Machiavellian of her to use her husband's resources to hurt him.

Seiichi is using his hard-gained salary (which I can't imagine is very high) to take care of a person he could easily abandon in her own apartment or smash her skull in while she was taking a bath... That would’ve been the end of all his problems!

Instead, he does this.

Changing diapers and imagining her as a toddler (that was an interesting imagery, by the way). Is he trying to correct the original wound that was inflicted onto her by her own parents?! Again, that's not going to work. For all we know she's too demented to even be aware that the person taking care of her is her son. Even if he gives her first class treatment, she doesn't know who he is. If there is some remnant of consciousness she said she didn't want to live, so...

In a way, he has been taking care of his mother his entire life since he was parentified by Ichiro. That was the problem in the first place, that he always felt responsible for his mother's misery, so this really isn't a change of pace for him. When he was a kid, he wasn't changing diapers, but he was lying to the police about the attempted murder, which, by the way, she seemed to have secretly wanted him to confess the truth, if you go by her expression...

In the end, the story repeats itself: she never loved him or wanted him, and all Seiichi ever wanted was his mother's love, which he’ll never get.

[poly-thot-one-piece-edition]

Between the Three of Us

Marco x afab!Reader x Shanks

CW: omegaverse elements (it is such a small part of the story I almost hesitate to mention it), violence, group sex, sex, swearing, it's a noir detective AU I'm sorry I really don't know what else to say.

Chapter 2: Ponderance

You’re in another room with no windows, a level down from the office itself. This room is sterile to the point that even the door leading in has a heavy seal on it to help keep it that way. You’re sat up on an operating table, your shoulder bag in your lap, and your shirt pulled up over your head so it’s in front of your chest.

The straps and accessories of your bank job were already long removed during your run, and your shoes were off in a corner.

“You sure you don’t want to lay down?” Marco asks for the third time. You learned the two men’s names before coming down into this lower level.

Marco D’Edward was a doctor, and the feathery side of Feathered Talon as far as you could tell. He certainly had a softer aura than the one-armed red-head, Shanks MacKenna.

“I’m sure.” You reiterate.

“It’ll be easier on the doc if you do.” Shanks says. He looks relaxed, but you’re not sure he actually knows what it is to relax.

“We’re not going to confiscate what’s in your bag.” Marco assures you.

“It’s what you were hired to steal, isn’t it?” Shanks asks, his eyes shifting down to the bag and back up to you. Your grip on the satchel tightens for a second, as though his gaze was enough to pull the bag from your hands on its own.

“… It is.”

“We’re going to know what it is then anyway,” Shanks asserts. “Since you need to pay for this patch job with a good story.”

You sigh. Honestly, if these two wanted to know what was in your bag you had no way to stop them. You didn’t have any viable defenses for yourself no matter what they might decide to do. A little give and take could go a long way, and you needed the bullet out of your shoulder regardless.

“It’s…” You relax a little and reach into the bag, pulling out the orb. “Supposed to be the map to the One Piece.”

You aren’t sure if Shanks relaxes after seeing it, or not. You could feel Marco flinch behind you, and he lets out a low whistle after a second.

“Stole from the museum.” You can hear the grin in Marco’s voice. “I can’t imagine how long the prep for that took.”

“Long enough.” You put the orb back into the bag, and then lower it to the floor, and adjust so you’re laying down on the table. “Arm up or at my side, doc?”

“Side’s fine.” Marco says. “I’m going to give you a shot, I promise, it’s not anything that’s going to knock you out. It’s just going to numb your shoulder so it won’t hurt as bad.”

“Sure. S’not much I could do even if you did put me under.” You say it a little more defeatedly than you mean to, but after the brief sting of the needle poke, Shanks clears his throat.

“So – you prepped for this job for however long, it goes well enough you have the orb, but poorly enough you get shot in the shoulder. What happened?”

“I was betrayed, in a sense.” You grumble. Talking let you focus on something that wasn’t Marco working on your shoulder, so you leaned into it. “The job went fine. Smooth as silk. Probably one of the best practiced, best executed jobs I’d been on with a team in years.”

“We have an expert thief in our midst.” Shanks teases. It’s a jab, but it doesn’t actually hit like a low blow.

“Treasure hunter, if I could’ve gotten off this damned island.” You grunt, moving your hand just enough to flip him off. “But sure, thief. We can go with that. Even thieves need to eat and pay rent.” You’re quiet for a moment, but no one says anything. Marco pulls the slug from your shoulder and it hurts, feels surreal to have a piece of metal pulled out like that, but it doesn’t hurt so much you can’t take it.

“They decided I was the key to the map, or at least the key to deciphering it, and instead of letting me be on my way, they seemed intent on me going back with them.” You grin despite it all. “They insisted I come with them, I insisted that I wouldn’t. It was a bit of an impasse.”

Shanks snorts, and then just full-on laughs. “Bit of an impasse!” He repeats, and you can hear a soft chuckle escape Marco. “So, how’d it resolve? Sure, you got here, but how?”

“Two broken noses and a dislocated knee.” You say flatly. “I took the orb and ran.”

“You got the drop on mafia?”

“No one expects a little thief to be able to fight, and I don’t – when I can avoid it.” You sigh again. “That secret’s out now though, and I’m not that good of a fighter, I needed that element of surprise.”

“Hmph. So, two broken noses and a dislocated knee bought you enough space to get the orb and run. How long?”

“Not sure. Three hours at least, maybe a little longer. What time was it when I got here?”

“3:42.” Marco says flatly as he cleans the wound. “Twenty minutes later and I would’ve been up on my own.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, you didn’t wake me up.” Marco admits. “You’re impressively quiet, ladrona.”

“It’s (Y/N).” You say. You hadn’t shared your name earlier when the other two had introduced themselves. You had still been trying to think of a way you could leave, and you weren’t giving two gumshoes any free information.

“Don’t apologize, (Y/N),” Marco reiterates. “Shanks sent me a text, and that’s what woke me up.”

“A text?” You look over at Shanks as realization dawns on you. “You saw me!”

He smiles and shrugs, the most genuinely relaxed actions you’d seen from him all evening. “Lucky timing. I was on my way here from the pub and noticed you coming into the courtyard in a mess.”

“A mess? I was exceptionally composed for someone with a bullet in their shoulder.” You nearly growl. His earlier jab didn’t feel low, but for some reason this one did.

He grins and you realize that he’s enjoying riling you up. “Back to the story. It was 3:42 when you got here, how long were you on the move?”

“We started at 11:33.” You admit. “Guard patterns and all that fun stuff. It was a 13 minute and 47 second plan. The conversation went south as soon as we finished, and couldn’t have lasted more than three minutes.” You hiss a little as Marco starts stitching the bullet wound. “We’ll call it 11:50 to 3:40 then? Just shy of 4 hours.”

“That’s quite the merry little chase, to end up barely a dozen blocks away from the museum.” Shanks seems completely amused.

“I shed most of my gear. Stole the bag.” You admit. “And before you give me any kind of lecture, I have every intention of returning it, but I didn’t see anything like a wallet or even money in there.”

“Oh I wouldn’t worry about that.” Shanks is laughing and you can hear Marco laughing too. “We already know who this belongs to. He’ll be home in another hour when his shift ends.”

“Probably hot under the collar.” Marco adds.

“Bah, cranky cause his bus snacks are missing, but he’ll survive.” Shanks grins.

“… Are you telling me out of all the bags in this city, I stole one belonging to an employee here?” The statistical improbability of that was already starting to melt your brain.

“A-yup.” Shanks answers with a wide grin. “It’ll be a good lesson for him. You wouldn’t have nicked it if it wasn’t an easy target, right?”

You make a bit of a face, but he’s not wrong. You couldn’t risk any sort of commotion, so everything you’d taken had been easy pickings.

“All done.” Marco says, and you can feel him pressing a bandage over your shoulder. “We’ll get you set up in a spare room, get some breakfast in you before the hot head gets home, and once you two finish arguing about the bag, you can get some rest.”

You sit up, putting your shirt back on, surprised at how little your shoulder hurts and only vaguely remembering that Marco had numbed it earlier. “Rest? I can’t stay here. You’ve both already-.” You stepped onto the floor and vertigo hit you like a bag of bricks. Shanks was already by your side steadying you.

“You lost a lot of blood.” Marco says evenly as Shanks helps you keep your feet. “Between the wound, all your running around and what you lost while I was patching you up, you need food and rest. Even if I had blood on hand for a transfusion, I don’t know what your type is.”

“I don’t know it either.” You admit, trying not to hurl on Shanks. You were trying not to think about how rock solid this guy was. For someone who moved so fast and quiet he felt like he was made of metal.

He smelled really good too. You expected him to smell like stale booze and sweat honestly, but there was a sweet, cinnamon scent, and something warm and soothing, like bourbon-soaked butter.

“F-food then, thank you.” You manage to get your feet steadied underneath yourself and take a couple steps under your own power. “We’re heading back upstairs then?”

“Grab her stuff.” Marco says, pulling off his gloves and pulling off the mask and apron he’d put on. “I’ll get her upstairs.”

“Sure thing, doc.” Shanks grabs your shoes and the shoulder bag with one hand and heads upstairs.

“Help me up?” You question groggily. Your head feels a little fuzzy, and you’re certain that it’s a mix of the numbing agent, blood loss, and your own exhaustion. Running about town for nearly four hours wasn’t easy under the best of circumstances.

“Aye.” Marco crouches down and scoops you up in his arm in an easy motion. It jostles your shoulder a little, but not much. By the time you have sense enough to tense from the action you’re already well-secured, and Marco’s opening the door to head upstairs with you.

“I – I’m – I can walk!” You nearly cry the words. Relying on others isn’t high up on your general priorities list, and they’ve already hid you, mended you, and are going to feed and shelter you. Being carried is a step one too many.

“Not easily. This is more efficient.” Marco assures you. “If you topple going up the stairs there’s no safe way to catch you without risking your stitches.”

“… I’m accepting under protest.” You grumble, trying to relax and resting your head on his shoulder.

“Noted.”

“You smell nice too.”

Marco pauses halfway up the stairs. “… huh?”

“The smarmy drunk smelled nice – like cinnamon and boozy butter.” You explain matter-of-factly. “You smell like…” You stop for a second, breathing in without thinking. “Pineapple and honey, and something smokey.”

“… I… see.”

“Oi, Marco we’ve got -.” Shanks stops, looking up as Marco walks into the kitchen with you. “Are you-.”

“What do we have for breakfast?” Marco interrupts. He’s knelt down and steadied you on your feet before helping you sit.

“Eggs, bacon, and enough buttermilk to make pancakes if you want.” Shanks answers. There’s a grin on his face that catches your attention and you turn to look at Marco, but whatever has Shanks amused, you miss it.

Marco considering for a second. “Bacon and eggs. Black pudding would be better if we had any.”

“Little bit, enough for our guest, at least.” Shanks admits, pulling items from the fridge. “Can I leave the cooking up to you?”

“Sure.”

Marco and Shanks trade places, and Shanks sits down next to you at the dining table. “So, your story’s not over yet. What made them think you could decipher the orb?”

You shake your head. “I don’t know. I’m good at puzzles, and… stuff, but there’s no reason for them to think I can use that orb.” Lying was harder when you were groggy, but you’d worry about dodging the red head after you’d had some sleep. Giving half-answers and being vague was all you had in you right now.

“Should’ve just left it where it belonged.” Shanks says, and you give him a funny look, but you aren’t sure what to say.

“Technically it belongs to the W.G.” Marco says. He’s busy cooking and his back is to both of you. Something about their tone and words is irritating you.

“It belonged to Roger.” You nearly snap the words.

Shanks gives you a look you can’t sort out. “You his kid or something?”

You relax a little, sitting back in your chair. “No.” You answer flatly, eyes on the satchel that has the orb in it. “But he’s dead, and I’m alive, and I’m keeping it.”