#the water level was receding right at the end before i woke up

[semiotomatics]

had a freaking. wild dream just now

[thethermocline]

in much the same way as I did for other lotr races in this post, or this one, or this one, I now have some thoughts about dwarves.

... And also more thoughts on elves.

I cannot help it! They are so interesting. But mostly this is about dwarves, I promise.

A brief acknowledgement and recommendation - a lot of this is inspired by Jacob Geller's "Fear of Depths" video (here).

So I need to veer into headcanon territory right here at the very beginning. Where and what did the lotr races come from?

Yes, yes. Canonically they were designed by the Valar. But from what. What was the base material?

God/esses could hypothetically make something from nothing, but Tolkien was Catholic. Therefore I propose that humans in lotr were made from earth, like they were in Christian mythology. It follows that other races were made from different materials, yes? So... What were they made from?

I propose that hobbits were made from flowers. Why? I don't know. Feels right. This is my weakest idea, so I'm putting it first.

Now, elves. Elves canonically woke lying in a field, staring up at the stars, didn't they? (I've not read the Silmarillion, this is what I've heard other people say.) What if the elves were literally made from starlight, or perhaps from the stars themselves?

This would tie very well into their departure from middle earth at the end of the third age. On a very basic level, they do not belong in middle earth. Their time there was always limited. For humans in ME, it is "From dust you came, and to dust you shall return," but elves are star people. They were always meant to return to their fundament as well. So they sail out on a straight line (elves perceive and interact with Tolkien's world as if it were flat whereas everyone else experiences it as round), and in so doing they are leaving earth, and settling into a land above the earth.

Yes. Valinor is essentially a star. That is what I am saying, correct.

It's not a perfect comparison, but you know what, on a symbolic level I think this lines up. I'm quite satisfied with it. Also, elves being made of starstuff would explain why they glow. (Is that fanon or canon? I feel like it's referenced in the text but I'm not actually sure.)

Now. Dwarves. Dwarves came from rock. They are meant to be underground, to explore and mine and live below the surface. But, like.

Have you ever been in a cave?

It is terrifying. Underground ventilation can sound like the whole cave is alive, and breathing. Natural tunnels are just the right size for you to just barely fit - right up until you can't, and you become trapped. Caves are sometimes wet; you'll hear the dripping of water in the darkness, and feel the wetness under your hands, further creating the feeling that you have been eaten alive. It's disorienting underground, very easy to get lost, with much twisting and doubling back. And it's dark. You don't have to go very far down before sunlight cannot reach you and torches illuminate very little of your surroundings. Acoustics make things even worse; the rock will enhance certain sounds and swallow others, which I'm told is incredibly disorienting and off-putting.

What kind of creatures live in caves?

If you were Mahal, working off of a basically humanoid template, how would you alter that to better fit survival underground?

I propose that dwarves are expertly made to orient themselves underground; they can build routes in their head that twist over themselves, that go above and below as well as around and across. A dwarven map cannot fit in a single image on a two dimensional piece of paper.

Perhaps they invent origami, or something similar? I do not know. But their navigational abilities would be far different from ours, and while we are easily lost underground, I think dwarves would be easily confused above ground. I also feel that dwarven eyes are far more sensitive to light, and perhaps they invent sunglasses, or tie dark fabrics around their eyes when they come up to the surface (which, lol, would make that Lothlorien scene quite different. But, when I write these things, I'm not saying that this is what is canon or what Tolkien intended. I'm just taking these ideas and running with them for my own amusement. And, I hope, yours.)

I've seen the term "stone-sense" in fics before. I think that's exactly right. Listening to and being in a sort of constant communication with the stone around them would be an essential part of survival for a dwarf.

It would be awfully traumatic for a dwarf to be, say, carried in the air by eagles, I think. Better than burning alive, perhaps, and yet somehow I feel the experience would haunt them to their graves. Similarly, I think that's why the Paths of the Dead were so awful for Gimli. The stone was dead. He could hear nothing. It was a fundamental perversion of the way the world has always worked for him up until that moment.

It is said that the dwarves receded, and grew less after the third age. But perhaps they simply found life on the surface physically painful. Maybe they didn't retreat into their caves for distrust of other races, but because of a growing inability to withstand the elements.

Anyway. Those are my dwarf thoughts today. I hope you found them interesting. ☺️

[amarantine-amirite]

Blue Monday (But On A Thursday)

"Uh oh. Looks like someone has a case of the Mondays"

"It's Thursday, Amber" I clap back. Even if it were a Monday, that is the absolute worst thing to say to someone who's living in fear of their impending deletion. I'm not joking when I say impending deletion. After 5:00 pm today, I will cease to exist.

There's no need for me to tell her why I'm freaking out. I mean, everybody knows that they put a permanent mark on the forehead of anyone with symptoms of depression so that everyone knows you're depressed. On the last day of every month, called "Deletion Day", they delete any person with the mark so that it doesn't spread to their descendants.

All this nonsense started the day of the Fall Ball. I don't know why I even went given that I had no desire to be social that day. The night before, I had one of those green coffee things. I spent the night bouncing off the walls and pissing like a racehorse. The day of the Ball, I was tired and didn't want to do anything, but I still went.

Doing that was a mistake. Within two minutes, I felt like I needed to lay down. I lay on the couch in the library, but I couldn't actually shut my brain off and get some sleep. I kept feeling just awful about how I chose to pair my cocktail dress with a pair of ugg boots. I shouldn't have felt bad about it. I have sensory problems and can't wear high heels because of it.

I should have felt better about myself. Yes, I may have been wearing ugg boots while my peers were wearing high heels, but I don't think they could walk in her shoes. I tried to think about Jill walking around in her platform heels. Her leg motions looked very stiff. I don't even think they fit very well. I bet she wished she'd worn uggs like I did.

A shocking amount of people with depression either sleep too much or can't sleep, especially girls. Everyone has this idea that if you see a girl napping in the middle of the day, there's a damn good chance she's depressed

Somebody saw me take that nap. They thought I was depressed. They reported me.

I wouldn't have had time to stop them. I found out later that everything was signed, sealed, and delivered before I even woke up from my nap.

All of this brings me to today. Today marks the end of the month: Deletion Day.

The rest of the day was more or less normal. That is, until the van came to pick me up.

The van honked when I got there. I got the door. A guy in a light green, scrub-like uniform came up to me and read me this:

"Charlotte Bates, a jury of your peers has decided to retroactively nullify your birth certificate. You are now in violation of Title 14 of the Code of Existential Ethics. Any rights previously granted to you in your jurisdiction are now officially and permanently revoked."

They shackled me. The teeth on the underside of the shackles poked incessantly at my flesh. I kicked and screamed. It didn't stop them. They just jabbed me with a syringe full of sedative.

When I came to, I found myself in the van, strapped into what looks like an oversized baby seat. The van had no windows. I was not the only passenger in the van. I saw a sign in the van that said "absolutely no talking".

"Don't worry about the sign," A blond girl with an eyepatch sitting across from me said, "It's never enforced."

I looked at her like she had lobsters crawling out of her ears. "Really?"

"There's a barrier between the passengers and the driver. No one can hear you through the barrier."

"Good to know," I said, "now that that's straightened out, what are you in for?"

"Some ass clown made a joke about me being depressed, and now I'm getting deleted. How about you?"

"I took a nap in the middle of the day," I responded, "I never thought getting deleted was this easy."

"Oh, you'd be surprised how easy it is," my friend with the eyepatch replied, "all you have to do is go on the app, type in the name of someone you think is depressed, check off any symptoms you've seen them show on the checklist, and that's it."

Our conversation didn't get much further than that. The van came to a stop. The same people that shackled me and took me out to the van came back and unshackled us. They led us into the Deletion Centre. We walked past a sign that someone had drawn a penis on. Once we were inside, they made everyone go through a metal detector. Once we passed security, they let us down a hall to a waiting area. They locked us in individual rooms.

I'm not willing to give in to deletion. I don't need to explain myself to you. I will not get deleted. End. Of. Fucking. Conversation!

Here's what I'm going to do. I've heard from various people that underneath all the rooms in the deletion center, there's a tunnel that links them together. You can get to the tunnel through a grate in the floor. To prevent escape, however; they've hidden the grate pretty well.

It didn't take me very long to figure out where the great was. Mostly because the opening rattles when you walk around.

Now that I know where the grade is, all I need to do is open it, slide down into the floor space, and crawl until I get to the mailroom. Once I get to the mailroom, I can then get into the dumbwaiter, ride it down to shipping/receiving, and just walk out like nothing ever happened.

After opening the grate, I slid down into the tunnel. I couldn't walk around, but I could military crawl around down there (they were wider than they were tall).

Things went awesome until I heard some asshole pull down on a sprinkler nozzle. Next, the sprinklers went off. It didn't take long before the excess water filled the tunnels. I went from crawling to swimming in the span of about 30 seconds.

The water level rose faster and faster. Within 10 seconds, I went from having enough space between the surface of the water and the top of the tunnel to move my arm up and down to just barely having enough room to come up for air without hitting my head.

Oh, shit, I thought. I felt myself begin to panic. If I didn't hightail it out of there, I'd drown.

I don't know whether it was divine intervention or dumb luck, but it turned out to not be an issue. Enough water filled the tunnel that the weight of the water combined with my weight made the bottom of the tunnel start to bevel.

I felt myself getting heavier: the water was receding. I could see it draining out of holes in the bottom of the tunnel.

I then heard a crack!

And then, it happened: the floor went out from underneath me. the water poured out into the space below as I dropped out of the sky. I wasn't injured, but it felt like diving into a pool when you're hit by those things they use to put out the forest fires.

I was soaked. My pride was wounded. But I was out.

I will not be deleted.

@crazyweirdpickel via @writing-prompt-s

[vaguely-concerned]

The Mandalorian Fic -- The whole future lies in thee

Set right after episode 8 -- Din makes a promise. Fluff, tenderness, parenthood, ~2000 words 

On AO3

The baby was sleeping soundly, finally, safely tucked into the container that once again had to serve as a crib after all of the ugnaught’s skilled work had gone to waste. Despite the sound of the kid’s slow peaceful breathing Din turned in the pilot’s seat to glance over his shoulder, just to be sure. With nothing else around the ship suitable as padding, Din had gone back to using his cape for the purpose — the baby didn’t seem to mind, one small hand tangled in the folds of it and his face slack-mouthed and soft with sleep, mythosaur pendant still clutched in his other hand.  

Din turned back to the viewport to watch the serene lights of hyperspace dancing by outside, blood caking uncomfortably in his hair under the helmet.

Whatever it was IG-11 had done with the bacta spray it seemed to have worked —Din’s head felt clear, apart from the exhaustion, and that horrible raw wrongness in his torso that meant something important in there had been shaken past breaking was completely gone — but he still ached all over, every movement setting off a fresh fireworks display of discomfort through his whole body. He felt vaguely like he’d just gone three more rounds with the mudhorn and lost every one.

Din kept his hands loosely curled around the control sticks even though there was no real need to anymore, with their destination set and the ship’s systems ticking away steadily. His plans hadn’t arrived at a real ‘towards’ yet, having largely stopped at ‘away, before something even worse shows up’, which he felt was becoming an unfortunate yet undeniable trend in his life lately. Get far enough away, get some supplies, hope for some decent work, rinse, repeat.

The events of the last few days blurred together, a thin sheen of oil puddling on top of deceptively calm waters without sinking in. From experience it would probably hit him worse once the battle numbness receded, but for now he simply sat there in the vast silence of his head, watching the lights run by. The only sounds were the baby’s snores and the familiar creaks and low moans of the Razor Crest.

Finally Din sighed and shifted a bit. He should go find something for the baby to eat in case he’d be hungry when he woke up. What with one thing and another it was starting to be a while since his last meal. Din got up and walked softly over to the hatch, dropping down as gently as he could to avoid waking the kid. He opened the storage space he reserved for foodstuffs and stared blankly at the containers within for a while, willing himself to just pick one.

That was when the crying started.

Din startled out of his haze of indecision and made his way back to the cockpit, where the baby was giving such a miserably plaintive cry that Din felt it like an ache in his own chest. When he spotted Din the baby cried even louder and reached his small arms towards him, straining up desperately enough that he almost fell out of his seat.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Din said, picking him up and holding him in a state of mild panic because he’d never heard the kid make a sound like this before. “What’s wrong?”

The baby just sobbed helplessly, his tiny face tucked against Din’s body and his three-fingered hands clutching at whatever part of the armor he could reach.

“You hurt somewhere?” Din asked, fear shooting up his spine and shaking him awake in earnest. The kid had seemed fine, but maybe something had happened that Din hadn’t noticed, or perhaps turning that wall of flame away had been too much of a strain on his little body, or —

Cradling the baby against his chest Din reached up with his free hand to activate the extremely rudimentary medical scanner built into the visor of his helmet, only partially reassured when it showed nothing out of the ordinary with the kid except a heightened pulse, which could easily be attributed to the huge gasping sobs. The scanner was only designed to give information on the ‘dead or alive?’ sort of level. If something was wrong with the baby’s brain, or, or wherever else his abilities came from, though, how would Din even…

Shit, he wished the nurse droid were still here, IG-11 would have known what to do. When it came to usefulness they would have been better off if it’d been Din blowing himself up at the end of that tunnel. The Armorer might be wiser than anyone else he’d ever met, but he didn’t know what the hell she’d been thinking, sending the kid off with Din as his only permanent bumbling support. For a moment and for the first time since he was a boy, Din gave serious consideration to just sitting down on the spot and bursting into tears himself.

Taking a deep breath he pulled himself together.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, holding the baby closer. “Everything’s okay, I’m here. It’s safe.”

The baby gave a hiccup between sobs and gazed up at him, the worst of the urgency slowly melting away. His round cheeks were flushed and his face still scrunched up slightly in distress, but his eyes cleared enough that Din could see something in his voice must have reached him.

“Whatever it is, we can fix it,” Din said, willing himself to believe it as he stroked his thumb over the baby’s forehead and along one fuzzy ear. The baby still looked at him, his hand fumbling to grab a hold of the fabric of Din’s gambeson like he was afraid Din would disappear if he didn’t.

Din maneuvered his way down to the lower section of the ship one-handed so they’d have more space, speaking to the baby the whole way — he had no real idea what he was saying anymore, only that the baby seemed to calm at the sound of his voice. Once he reached the cargo hold he started pacing slowly, though whether to help soothe the baby or himself he couldn’t say at this point.  

The baby fussed quietly but miserably, still unable to settle all the way down. Din rocked him gently in the way he’d found through trial and error best did the trick, mindlessly walking back and forth across the floor as he looked down at the baby and tried to prod his exhausted mind back to work to figure out what was going on.

“This would be a lot easier if either of us knew how to talk,” Din told the baby mournfully, bouncing him as he reached the end of the cargo hold and turned around again.

A spark of instinct lit up the weary murkiness of Din’s brain. When Kuiil — and there was a blankness around the name in his head that from experience meant something large and ugly was waiting to take its toll when the worst of the fog lifted, but for now there was only silence — when Kuiil had taken the baby away with him, back towards the ship, Din had been too wrapped up in his own fear-hazy thoughts to think to reassure the kid, too busy trying to work out contingencies and strategies with too little information to go on to...

Something shifted in Din’s mind, his perspective drifting and realigning just so, as he realized that the last time he’d seen his parents he had always known it was the last time. There had been no time for doubt. One moment they’d been there, and then they were gone. There had been no space where he hadn’t known whether they were coming back, no waiting.

Big dark eyes watching him as he walked away and didn’t even glance back.  

The thought went through him like a shot the beskar could do nothing to stop, leaving something in there to bleed.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, cupping the baby’s head in his hand. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

The baby looked at him with his head on one side, ears lopsided in exhaustion, but there was something like understanding in his wide dark eyes, the crying finally dying away.

“Yeah, I know,” Din murmured, stroking the back of the small downy head. “I know all of that was scary. It’s okay to be scared. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. It’s okay.”

The baby rubbed his cheek against the breastplate, fumbling around until he found the mythosaur pendant around his neck and absentmindedly stuck it in his mouth as he gazed unwaveringly up at Din. Distantly, illogically, Din wanted to press a quick kiss to his forehead, but he doubted the kid would find the cold touch of beskar and transparisteel all that comforting. Instead he carefully wiped the last of the tear tracks away with his thumb, smiling despite himself when the baby scrunched up his nose and made a protesting sound around the pendant. “Sorry.”

Din unfastened his breastplate so the baby would have something softer to rest against, then half collapsed, half sat down on the spot, his back resting against the bulkhead. He held the kid against his chest, cradled in the crook of his arm. The baby made a pleased sound and tucked himself even closer with a wiggle. Din used two fingers of his right hand to pull off the glove on the left so he could feel the reassuring warmth of the little body under his hand, gently running his thumb back and forth over the baby’s back when he snuggled into it.

They sat like that for a while until Din sighed.

“I know… I know words don’t count for much and you’re probably still too small to understand, but I — think I need to say this out loud.” Din glanced down and carefully took the kid’s tiny hand between his own thumb and forefinger, stroking the back of it. “I’ve, uh. Sworn only one other oath in my life and it was a long time ago, so I might be a bit rusty.”

While he paused the baby wrapped his entire hand around Din’s index finger, his feet tipping idly back and forth in the way that usually signified contentment while he gazed up at Din.  

Din took a deep breath, dizzy with something like reverence and possibly also the last lingering remnants of the concussion. “No matter how many times I go away, I am always going to come back. As long as I still live I am always, always going to come back for you. I promise.”

His voice broke slightly on the last part and he cleared his throat, blinked quickly a couple of times even though he knew no one could see his face. The baby raised his arms in the way he did when he wanted to be lifted, so Din held the kid up in front of him until they were face to face, or at least face to visor. The baby reached out and put his palm flat against the metal, giving a low happy coo.

“I know I’m not much of a prize,” Din said in a rough voice, their new sigil bright on his shoulder and in his mind. “But I promise I’m going to give it everything I have.”

The baby babbled like he was imparting a piece of great wisdom and wrapped his arms as far around the helmet as he could with a trilling sound, legs dangling cheerfully. Din used the opportunity while his view was obscured anyway to close his eyes for a second.

“I promise,” Din said again, willing his voice to carry the meaning if the words couldn’t, and held the child even closer against his chest.

[fandom-necromancer]

Let’s write together: Heart Reset

Chapter 1 - Substitute Detectives

Featuring:

@aurea-b with “Don’t tell me you watched me sleep all night.” @thetruefor3stspirit with “Not gonna lie... I’d die for these soft tiddies.” @rufina72 and Spirit with “Gavin’s cat” & “Reed900 cats” A baguette with “Ralph” @sparklingrainbowdragon with “Ralph/Jerrys” An anon with “Connor/Chloe” (more of them in chapter 3) an anon with “Gavin accidentally puts salt into his coffee. Drinks full cup without flinching” an anon with “Maybe an old friend/ ex from Gavin or Nines appears and causes drama™️” (more of him throughout the story)

Thank you all  so much for participating!

[Chapter 2]

-

Gavin was awoken far too early by his alarm clock. He pulled a grimace and groaned: ‘Phhhck.’ Without looking he tried to slap the damn thing off, only succeeding in weakly flopping his arm on his bedside table, annoying the cat sleeping on his chest. Still, the alarm stopped right then. ‘I love to watch your praised Detective brain work’, came the chuckled comment to that from his side. ‘Hey, tin-can, if you can hack my clock, why don’t you wake me up instead?’ ‘Oh, that’s an easy one. I love the way you scrunch up your face being all grumpy.’ ‘Hmm, yeah, I know I’m pretty.’ Gavin smiled sleepily, still not wanting to open his eyes. ‘You do that a few times in your sleep too. It’s cute.’ ‘Hmm, yeah, I’m phcking cute- wait what?’ That made him sit up and actually look at the android next to him. The cat, finally irritated enough, ran off towards the kitchen ‘Don’t tell me you watched me sleep all night.’ ‘Am I not allowed to admire my perfect human?’, Nines asked faking his hurt. ‘Nah, you are allowed to. Just don’t be creepy.’ ‘Oh yes? Well, if I may remind you of the time I was in stasis and you woke me up hugging me and telling me-‘ ‘No, I don’t want to hear it!’, Gavin laughed, covering his face in embarrassment. But Nines knew no mercy. ‘Telling me, and I quote: Not gonna lie... I’d die for these soft tiddies ?’ ‘I was super drunk this evening coming home from the bar with Tina, okay? Alcohol does these things to you.’ Nines just shrugged and got up. ‘Come on, we have to go to work.’ ‘Don’t remind me…’ ‘I’ll make you something to eat.’ ‘Thanks.’

They got to work perfectly punctual, as always. Ever since Nines took over their schedule, they wouldn’t be a minute late unless something happened. He had argued with Gavin so many times, he was tired of it by now and just complied. The toaster had good intentions after all, and Gavin knew he just liked to complain. The downside of this was that people knew when they would arrive and especially those earlier than them seemed to love bothering them when they just got there. One of these people was Connor.

Gavin had just put his jacket over the back of his chair while Nines downloaded the latest progress, when he practically felt the RK800’s eyes fall on him. ‘I’m off to the breakroom, puppy is coming and I need my coffee before that.’ Nines looked up and saw Connor stand up. ‘I’m coming with you.’ They escaped the android for approximately one more minute by this manoeuvre. Gavin had started filling the machine with water and waited for it to cook, while Nines watched him. ‘Ah, good to see you! Good morning to you two! I actually searched for you.’ ‘You mean you waited for us to arrive and the moment we were at our desks you struck?’, Nines corrected him, making Gavin smile to himself. ‘Maybe? Anyways, I need your help. So, me and Hank got this case and…’ Gavin sighed as Connor rambled on, pushing the button of the machine that made it spit out his life elixir, only half-heartedly listening. It was still too early in the morning for such talks. ‘and we have reviewed all evidence, we know nearly everything already, we only need to arrest him when we have enough evidence. And both of that will be possible a days from now, at the theme park just outside Detroit. I planned talking to some contacts at New Jericho who worked there, then plan a trap, but…’ ‘But?’ ‘Well, me and Chloe have our anniversary on that day and… Well I promised her to be there. Why did Browns have to choose that night for it?’

That made both Gavin and Nines give him his full attention, as they both asked simultaneously: ‘You are with Chloe?’ ‘Browns? Jayden Browns?’ Connor looked at them a bit surprised. He answered Nines first: ‘Well yeah, we met at Kamski’s villa before the revolution but after that a few times more and it just worked.’ ‘Honestly I thought you would tend more to Hank…’ ‘Wha- No! I see him more of a dad, I think. And yes, Gavin his first name is Jayden, how did you know?’ ‘Oh, nothing’, he brushed it off, taking his cup and taking a sip just to nearly spit it out. His eyes darted to the two shakers. Were they… Yes. Who the hell had switched sugar and salt around? But damn it, Connor was here, looking at him. And Gavin would never admit and error to the android and pointedly drunk the whole cup without flinching. ‘Old friend of mine’, he choked out. ‘Really? Well, that’s even better then! Because I really need you to take this case over for me.’ ‘What?’, Nines asked. ‘Why?’ ‘My date with Chloe? Also, you are way better suited with Gavin knowing our suspect! Come on, I’ll owe you one. Please?’ Nines looked over to Gavin, who nodded. ‘Fine, we’ll help you out. But just so you know, we’ll take all the credit, too.’ ‘Yes! Thank you so much! I’ll transfer all data we have so far to you!’

And with that he was off, leaving both of them standing in the breakroom. ‘Why did you accept?’, Nines asked. ‘We don’t have an active case at the moment. Also, Connor owing us? Can’t let that chance pass.’ ‘Quick thinking. Did you know you poured salt in your coffee?’ ‘I know.’ ‘Did you know Connor saw it too and chugging it did nothing to mask the error as we are not human?’ ‘I know!’ ‘I admire your stubbornness.’ ‘I know. Come on, let’s go read up on our new case.’

-

New Jericho, the apartment complex given to Markus after the revolution, wasn’t that far from the precinct. The drive there still felt overly long with the lingering silence neither of them knew how to break. It was Nines in the end, who prodded: ‘Who is the suspect, your “old friend”, really? You know him well.’ Gavin ducked his head. ‘Urgh, he’s an ex of mine. Don’t ask. I had a bullshit taste before you came along. Just… I mean I knew he could easily turn to illegal stuff, but mostly with androids and I didn’t care about your kind back then and-‘ ‘It’s okay.’ ‘It really isn’t, I should have turned him in earlier, even if it was just for property damage. But I was more focussed on getting away from him I guess.’ Nines could tell his human was uncomfortable talking about it. ‘He really wasn’t a good pick when even I realised it back then…’ ‘Well, you get your chance to arrest him now’, Nines said, trying to be comforting. ‘Yeah, right. Still can’t believe the idiot made it that far.’

It was impressive really. Jayden had been many things, but not intelligent. According to Connor’s research though, he had gotten his hands on data that could threaten all of androidkind. They didn’t know what it was exactly yet, but every goon they had managed to catch and interrogate had made a point in bragging about what was coming. Apparently, it would change the world as they knew it. Knowing the man, Gavin was sure though that that was an exaggeration. Maybe Jayden was convinced of it, but if he got his hands on it it couldn’t be that much of a danger. Whatever it would turn out to be though, Jayden was trying to sell it to the highest bidder and from what Connor had found out, the sum that was offered could make a man rich easily. The data would be handed over at exactly seven pm in tomorrow over at ArcaneWorld, a closed amusement park. The website stated it was closed for renovations, but Nines had found out the site hadn’t been updated in three years and the park had lost all investors. The owner had vanished mysteriously, likely because of the amount of debt the park had collected. But that would be a case for another time, now they needed to find out where exactly their suspects would meet on the roughly twenty-thousand square metre big areal.

‘You know, on a completely other point, I have never been to New Jericho. Do they even accept humans?’ It was meant as a joke, but Nines answered seriously. ‘There are certain areas you won’t be allowed in, yes. Although the majority is, not all androids have deviated yet. Some will never need to, being given freedom simply by prohibiting people from ordering them around. Those that do naturally without being converted mostly break their chains by trauma. Most connected to humans. You understand you won’t be let in there?’ Gavin laughed nervously. ‘Yeah, I understand that alright. Damn it, with the amount of hate-crime receding to the, well, to the normal levels, I thought that wouldn’t be that much of a problem anymore.’ ‘It got better the last years’, the android answered. ‘I think nowadays it’s just one floor that’s prohibited for humans. When I was awoken, there was only one floor humans were allowed to enter.’ ‘Shit…’, Gavin hissed, looking up towards their destination. The building could already be seen, although it would take a few more minutes to get there. ‘Our contacts, are they-‘ ‘No. One of them spent a lot of time away from humans, but he got better with time. I actually met him in my time there. The others never had a scarring experience with your kind, although maybe that’s also due to their programming. They are designed to be patient, easily forgiving and caring. No matter how drastic deviancy can change us, a few traits stay.’ ‘They?’, Gavin asked. ‘Just one person or how many are we speaking with?’ ‘Two persons’, Nines answered and smiled. ‘Roughly a hundred units. No one really knows how many there are.’ ‘Excuse me?’ ‘They share a hivemind. It was an interesting thought of Cyberlife as that made sharing information in a theme park much easier.’ ‘You androids are weird.’ ‘Says the human that is partially controlled by his intestine’s flora.’ ‘Yeah okay, point taken.’

They parked the car and went inside. Nines connected to the apartment buildings android network and announced themselves to the other androids. Nearly instantly he got an invitation back he translated for Gavin. ‘They are waiting for us in the gardens. They ask if you need anything.’ A bit phased, the human shook his head. ‘No, I’m good, thanks. Kind of forgot you can simply do that…’ ‘Believe me, it feels strange even to me. I prefer talking, too.’ They moved through the hallways towards the back exit and Gavin was surprised to see how many androids there were. It was normal to see them on the streets now, but without any humans around it still felt weird to him. Some of them didn’t wear their skin, all of them were openly interfacing on a regular basis. Still throughout it all, they acknowledged Gavin’s presence, some even waved or threw him a polite smile before going on with their day. It was so different to what Gavin had experienced with the human-only neighbourhoods that had formed after the revolution and androids had needed police protection entering. Gavin remembered the people living there just too well and how they reacted to Nines as the only android with them.

He honestly had thought of this to be similar for him.

Nines opened the door for him to step into a huge atrium mostly filled by a huge park-like area. ‘Over here’, Nines said, leading Gavin to where and android sat, plucking weeds. As they approached, he stood up, clasping his hands. His face was heavily damaged, Gavin could see that even from a distance. But the other android’s eyes were fixed on Nines, before he awkwardly waddled over. ‘RK900! RK900 is here, Ralph is happy to see you!’ Gavin watched his partner as the damaged android ran at him just to hug him. ‘I’m happy to see you too! Although my name is Nines now.’ ‘You got a name now? That’s good! Ralph likes it, it is a good name.’ ‘My friend here gave it to me’, Nines chuckled and laid an arm on Gavin’s shoulder. ‘Oh, you found a human? The one from the file you told me about?’ Nines blushed a little, refusing to make eye contact. ‘Yes. It all worked out.’ Ralph held out a hand for Gavin to shake. ‘Hello, friend! Ralph knows Nines from when he first got here. We are good friends.’ ‘I’m Gavin’, he introduced himself, not quite sure what to make of the android. Nines had never mentioned him after all. ‘I’m also a… good friend of him, we met at the DPD.’ ‘Oh! Ralph knows! You came hear to ask questions about the case, yes, Connor told me! But Ralph doesn’t know much, he just met Jerry there. Jerry can tell more; Ralph will call him!’

He did not call him loudly, but immediately five androids perked up, all looking exactly the same. They looked at Ralph, then each other, before three of them dropped their tools and came over. One went over to Ralph to hug him, while the other two looked curiously at Nines and Gavin. ‘Hello! Our name is Jerry. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Connor said you needed help?’ Gavin nodded in the general direction, not quite sure which unit to address. But Nines turned to the one who had just spoken, so Gavin followed his example.

‘Do you know the theme park ArcaneWorld?’, Nines asked. ‘Connor told me you would be the best to ask this.’ The unit in front of him nodded. ‘Yes, we were property of the previous park. Pirate’s cove was abandoned but gained the attention after we were found after the revolution. We were happy to leave the place, but we keep it in good memory. We liked working there and making people happy.’ ‘I’m sorry, but how are you an expert on ArcaneWorld when you worked in the previous park?’, Gavin asked. ‘We used the unique android network there. It helped us keep ourselves and not be lonely, much like the one installed here. But we have never been disconnected. And the person who bought Pirate’s cove after the revolution demolished buildings and attractions but kept the network to run the new park. We received regular updates until it closed again, including a detailed blueprint of the entire park and surveillance. Just a moment, please.’ Multiple other Jerrys approached them, pushing their hands together. Gavin had seen the holographic screen Nines and Connor could produce, but never something like this. Every individual screen connected, forming a map of ArcaneWorld. ‘There. What do you need to know?’ ‘We have to intercept a criminal selling off valuable data. We know it happens at seven, but not where in the park.’ A few of the Jerrys nodded in unison. ‘Well, the park is partly still functioning. The whole area here…’ a huge part of the map was marked. ‘This whole area isn’t safe. A huge ride there had been closed due to safety reasons and had to be renovated. That never happened, so now the ride has long collapsed. The old area of Pirate’s cove is still functioning, as well as the main attraction of the new park, a large area of medieval themed rides. Maybe that narrows it down a bit. Oh, and another thing, the surveillance cameras in a large part of the medieval area were shut down lately. May only be a coincidence, but when there are still some working in the collapsed ride, we don’t think this simply happened because of decay. We would search there.’

‘Sounds good to me’, Gavin shrugged. ‘As good a place as any to start.’ Nines nodded. ‘Thank you, Jerry, you helped us a lot. Do keep an eye on the park though and call us if you see anything.’ ‘Of course. Best of luck!’

Nines and Gavin left New Jericho shortly after that. Nines had stayed a bit longer to download the map from Jerry and gain access to the network, but soon they had taken their leave. ‘An old friend, huh?’, Gavin smirked as they walked towards the car. ‘Anything I need to know?’ ‘They really are just friends I made, unlike our suspect’, Nines shot back though. ‘Ralph had been with Jerry from the start.’ ‘Err.. what? How is that even… nevermind, I don’t wanna know.’ Nines looked at him, clearly disappointed. ‘Gavin, please, don’t try to judge them with human terms. I keep one of my processor cores reserved just for you, always. Jerry does the same, but with interchangeable units. It’s not that difficult to understand.’ ‘I said I didn’t want to know that, Nines. If it works for them, fine with me.’ ‘Good. That being settled, let’s get back and find out everything about this park.’

[>next Chapter]

[jj-lynn21]

Cozy Cove: Nursing the patient

@sunshineandskarsgards @loomiz @super-pink-palouza @nerdicesbro @anastasiaskarsgard @grandpa-sweaters @loomiz @bskarsgardlove92​

Previous in Cozy Cove: Saved by an Angel ,   A side of tits with your pancakes,   Fires Burn Hot , Spending the Nights, Learning and Loving,   The end id not always the end,  Axel Grease ,  Big Decisions, Sex and Jet Skis, Late night fun , Old Wounds , Storms pass Dangerous Waters, Nursing the patient , Making it Work

Warnings: flirtation, a dash of angst

When Axel woke, Susie’s head was laying on the edge of the bed. Her left hand over his right as she rested. He slid his hand from under hers. The pulse oximetry on his index finger almost came off but he put it in place with his other hand. An IV still hung from his left arm. Axel palmed the top of her head scrunching her messy hair.

Susie looked up to him in a daze, “How are you feeling?”

“I’ll be fine.” He looked at his bandaged-up leg. “I guess that shark fucked up my calf pretty bad.”

“Yeah,” Susie sat up to yawn and stretch, “You scared the shit out of me. You were bleeding so much.” Her eyes started to tear up.  

“I’m fine Babygirl.” Axel was in a little bit of pain, but he didn’t want to tell Susie that. She looked like she had barely slept. “You should go get some rest.”

“Flood waters are down but not enough to go back to the beach house.” Susie took his hand and put it on her heart. The loose-fitting dress hanging low on her chest. “Besides, I don’t want to leave you. Other than maybe some coffee so your brothers can visit. They only let two of us in at a time.”

Axel chuckled, “yeah, I could use some coffee myself. First come up here with me.” He patted the bed and reached to raise it, so he sat up more.  

Susie smirked, “I don’t think these beds were made for two.”

“Come on, it will be fine.” Axel patted the bed again. “You need to rest better.”

Susie sat alongside Axel leaning on his shoulder. His arm around her comfortably. She dozed for what seemed like seconds when the clunk of footsteps on the linoleum floor made her and Axel look up startled.  

The nurse smiled as she wrote her name on the white board in red, “I’m Cathy. I will be taking care of you this shift Mr. Cluney. How is your pain?”

“It isn’t that bad.” Axel said as the nurse walked closer to assess him.

“Miss there is coffee in the family waiting area.” The nurse offered. “You can use the shower in the break room if you want also. I need to finish assessing Mr. Cluney, change his bandages and give him a sponge bath.” A grin tugged at her lip.

Susie doesn’t notice the look on the nurse’s face as she gets up and kisses Axel on the forehead. “I’ll be back shortly. Your brothers probably want to visit. While I freshen up.”

Axel grabs Susie’s hand as the nurse pumps up the blood pressure cuff. “You going to give me my sponge bath instead of the nurse babe?” He grins.

“Sure, as long as that is allowed.” They both look to the nurse.

“Cathy, my girl is going to help me clean up when she gets back.” Axel stated instead of asked. “Just get us a washcloth, soap and a bin for water and I’m sure we can manage.”  

“That will be fine Mr. Cluney,” Nurse Cathy said deflated. She had known Axel in school but never really talked to him since he was three grades ahead of her. She had a crush, but she was doing her best to be professional and respectful to him and his girlfriend.

Susie giggled, “Okay Axel I will be back shortly to clean you up. Be a good patient for Nurse Cathy.”

He nodded with a thermometer in his mouth. The nurse took it out when it beeped, “Your perfect.” She smiled “You sure you don’t need anything for pain?”

“I didn’t want to worry, Susie.” Axel looked to make sure Susie was long gone. “The dull ache in my calf is getting a bit intense.”

“On a scale from one to ten, ten being the worse pain, how bad is it?” Nurse Cathy picked up his chart at the end of the bed to make note of his discomfort.

“I would say a hard seven.” Axel winced a little as he pulled himself up more in the bed. “Almost the frowny face on the little pain board on the wall, I guess.”

She nodded, “Let’s not get you to that frowny face level.” She made some notes on the chart. Then she put it back and pulled a syringe with medication from her pocket. “I can put this right in the I.V.” She wiped the port down with alcohol, made sure there were no bubbles in the syringe by squirting a few drops before attaching it to the port. She slowly pressed the plunger as she watched the IV area. “No burning or pain as I do this?”

“Not at all, thanks.” Axel laid his head back on the pillow watching her. He thought she looked a little familiar especially the beauty mark on her left cheek. “Have you brought your car in my garage or something? I feel I might have seen your face before or are you a part time model?”

Her cheeks burned that he would even suggest she could be a model when he never seemed to notice her in school. “I’m just a nurse Mr. Cluney. I haven’t been to your garage but long ago in another world called high school we had a class together. I think you were a senior when I was a freshman, so you never noticed me.” She finished putting the medication in and tossed the emptied syringe in the hazardous waste bin.  

“Oh, I bet I did notice to remember your face, Cathy.” Axel chuckled. “I was just too busy with my asshole friends and that crazy bitch I was dating at the time. She would have killed you if she thought I took a second glance and you glanced back. I didn’t talk to you for your own safety.”  

“That was nice of you,” She smirked. “Just press the call button if you need me. Unless your current girlfriend might hurt me for looking at you?”

“No, she knows I love her.” He Ccoses his eyes feeling a little tired. “She has nothing to be jealous of and she knows it.” He mumbled before drifting off.

Cathy didn’t really know if that was a dig on her. It was like Axel told her she was cute in school, but he couldn’t tell her and now she couldn’t have him because she was nothing for another girl to be jealous of. It hurt a bit.  

As soon as Susie stepped into the waiting area a very groggy Eric sat up. He had been laying across a couch that was much to small all night. His head was on a throw pillow placed on the table beside the couch arm. His feet still dangled off. Josh was curled up in an oversized chair. His head resting on his knees. He looked up at Susie with bloodshot eyes.

“How’s Axel,” they both mumbled in unison.  

“He told me he wasn’t in much pain, but his eyes betrayed him.” Susie yawned. “Coffee?”

Eric pointed to the stand at the end of the room with a full coffee pot, hot water, powdered creamer and some tea bags. She poured herself coffee in the small Styrofoam cup and topped it off with cream. She made a face after a small sip.  It was very bitter.

“The nurse said I could shower in the employee break room,” Susie added some sugar to the coffee to try to make it more tolerable.  “Why don’t you two go visit with your brother awhile.”

Josh unfurls himself standing with a big stretch and yawn. “Yeah, that’s a good plan. Then I am going to head back to Jen’s parents’ house to shower and rest. I’m sure they would be cool with you both hanging out there since the flood waters haven’t receded yet. Both the girls are probably still sleeping in Jen’s twin bed.” He grins at the thought.

Eric shakes his head at his brother’s obvious thought. Normally he would say something but out of respect for the other women in the room he keeps his tongue tied. “Yeah, I’ll go with you Josh after spending some time with our brother.”

“I’m going to stay here with Axel but thanks for the offer, Josh.” Susie yawned again.  

Eric got up stretching showing off his navel and trail of hair down to the edge of his tight jeans that hung low on his hips. “I’ll bring you some food later and better coffee.”

“I would appreciate that, thanks.” She walked off toward the break room.

Eric and Josh ambled into Axel’s room. Axel was grubbing on some rubbery eggs and dry toast.  

“Hey, guys.” Axel looked at them eyes glossy as the world around him seemed to be moving slower from the pain medication.

“How you doing shark bate?” Josh chuckled as he plopped into a visitor's chair.

Axel smirked, “I’m fine. It wasn’t that bad. You should try it.”

“Yeah, I’ll just go for a swim down main street to introduce myself to your baby shark friend.”

Eric starts humming the baby shark song.  

“Now look what you did,” Axel rolls his eyes.

All three of them are laughing as Nurse Cathy walks in with the wash bin full of supplies. “How’s it going in here?”

“Is it sponge bath time already,” Josh looks at the white board for her name. “Cathy? How can I sign up for one of those?”

“You could go for that swim you were talking about.” Axel chuckled.  

“I don’t advise that,” Cathy said blushing. “There are far less painful ways to get a sponge bath.’  

“Oh, yeah,” Josh grinned.

“Now his girlfriend, Jen, might take you out for flirting.” Axel advised.

“She’s not that bad.” Josh defended her. “You’re just jealous she doesn’t want you anymore.”

“Yeah, that’s it for sure,” Axel rolled his eyes.

“Just buzz me if you need anything Mr. Cluney,” She turned to walk out.

“Will do Cathy, thanks,” Axel stared at his brothers blankly a moment before continuing.“You guys don’t need to stay here another night. I’m good. I just need to heal. If it wasn’t for the flood, they would probably let me leave tomorrow after the Doctor checks in on me.”

“We are going to hold up at Jen’s parents’ house until the flood waters go down,” Eric thought for a minute. “What her last name? It feels rude to just go into their home and be all ‘hey Jen’s parents, thanks for letting me stay.”

Josh Chuckled, “Carl and Michell Lynns. Michell will feed us to.”

“Is it okay if I try to convince Susie to go get some rest later tonight?” Axel asked.

“I don’t see why not.” Josh grabbed Axel’s lime Jell-O. “But I get this as payment.”

“It's yours, bro,” Axel was saying as Susie knocked for at least one of them to walk out so she could go in.”

“Take it easy,” both brothers said as they headed out.

“I’ll be back a little later,” Eric said as he passed Susie.  

Susie nodded at Eric. She now had some clean scrubs on the hospital let her have. She sauntered over to Axel’s bedside. He pushed his bedside table away that had his breakfast on it.  

“I’m ready for my bath now nurse Susie,” He grinned.

“Of course, Mr. Cluney.” Susie held in a giggle.  

The Orderly came to get the tray, “Just fill out your menu for tomorrow when you get a minute Mr. Cluney. We will pick it up with your lunch or dinner tray.”

“Thanks,” Axel said politely.  

When the Orderly left Susie closed the door and pulled the privacy curtain around the bed. She half-filled the pink plastic basin with warm water. Then she put it on the table. The washcloth and soap setting beside it.  

“Shall I help you take your gown off, Mr. Cluney?” She wet the cloth and added some soap. Susie began to wash his face lightly.

“I think I will need all the help you can give me,” Axel looked up closing his eyes as she washed his face.  

“Yes, Mr. Cluney,” She rinse the cloth and Axel’s face before untying his gown. Her eyes were wide as if surprised to see he was naked under the gown. “Oh, my you do have a lot you need help with.”

Alex smirked, “You know it.”

[felix-the-cat]

Thursday, January 16, 2020 – 11:12 p.m.

Here we have another session of find the cat. He is a rascally little rabbit. He is beginning to find out who he is. He is waking up inside. He is beginning the ascension process in this New Energy. Everything is becoming new again. Even better than new. It is being brought here by the ones that brought you to this planet.

You are being guided step by step in a never-ending cycle of the Divine Love within. Here we have the one who will begin the ascension process tonight. He will begin to write of things to come. He will begin again for the very first time.

He is attuned to the New Frequency and is beginning the first stages of enlightenment. It’s quite a show. One can literally change into a completely New Human. Here is the formula for success. Begin by being still and knowing that God is inside. Begin by learning to listen to that still small voice inside. Pay attention to it.

It will guide you into new realms of existence. You have been trained to do this. Therefore, you are here. Begin tonight to just let go into Spirit. Follow the white rabbit. Go down the rabbit hole and bring us back something interesting.

Begin by going into the center of the vortex. After you are there, feel an immense gratitude for all there is. Know that this is the person you only dreamed of being a few years back. Now we are all grown up. But, are we? What’s so important about growing up anyway?

I tell you this, you should be more childlike. Go out and play more. Look at the world through New Eyes. Look away from the distraction of reality for a moment and catch a glimpse of the Divine. You will never want to go back for you have seen the truth.

You will begin to see everything in a new Light. It will begin within and radiate outward into the world. It will be a marvelous show. When you live your life for Spirit you begin a new journey on the right path. And I’m not talking about religion. I’m talking about feeling Love from the Source of Love itself.

There’s nothing else like it. Once you get touched with the light it affects your entire being. Your very cells wake up and realize the truth. And that truth is that you are deeply loved by Source. Not only that but you are in a new energy now and the planet is being bathed with the light.

You must’ve felt it. It’s quite grand living in the light. It’s nice out in the bright sunshine. To reside here in the calm center of one’s being and radiate light outward into the world is what the New Human is doing on this planet right now.

Many are waking up inside. They are beginning to see beyond the illusion. The veil is being lifted like a curtain right before a show. And oh, what a show it will be. We’re not even five minutes into the first act and already millions are waking up simultaneously. Beyond that, new people are being born each day. I think you call them babies.

These babies being born are the masters that have walked the planet before and are arriving back in response to the new light energy on this planet. Keep a good eye out in the next twenty years. They will set the world ablaze with new ideas. They will be the painters, poets, musicians and ascended masters. Imagine the impact this will have. Imagine if the world had a bunch of people like Jesus walking the planet. Well, guess what. He’s coming back and he’s bringing some friends along for the ride. This is the Second Coming. They are coming back through us. Legions of people walking the planet with eyes wide open and compassion in their hearts.

We are in a new day and age. We are beginning to see around the corner; to look behind the curtain. Spirit is putting on a show for us and we are the main actors. It’s going to be quite an interactive show. We will have all the best people acting from their heart because they will be real. Good music is coming back. New art and poetry will explode on the scene. Inspiration everywhere.

The writers of the New Energy will have something to say. It’s their day and age. They will be given the ability to write in such a way that the person reading it will be transported to that place. There are going to be things of such enormous beauty you can’t begin to picture it.

It’s like painting in the air. Imagine a painting that was done in mid air and has all the dimensions of 3D reality mixed with some 4D. it’s coming and it’s going to be quite the show. Prepare yourselves for the coming of the New Age.

We are here to talk about how we can help you. You have been on this planet for so long and have battled the darkness for eons. Now, you have won. The darkness is receding as more and more people are coming online and tuning in to their Higher Selves. They are being integrated and becoming whole once again. They are beginning to see through the veil into Ultimate Reality.

We who will look away from the reality that we currently reside in can look into another place; a place that is real. It’s a place that doesn’t fade over time. It is eternal. There is a place that has always been and always will be.

Here we begin to enter that place. We walk through the door and are instantly filled with peace. We come to a fountain and step in. the water cleanses away whatever darkness was brought in and the soul is purified for entry.

We have the one who is trying to figure it out again but must go step by step. We have the one who is eager to begin his training. We are here to show you how to tune in on this new station. Just bring yourself to the present moment. Stay here with us. This is where eternity resides and the New Human is complete; for, the New Human understands that the reality he is in is only an illusion. He begins to concentrate deeply into the present moment. He lets go. Then there is the realization that he is going down a spiral waterfall and splashing into a pool of warm refreshingly clear water.

This is the space of healing. It is the fountain of youth because it resides in the now. With each splash in the pool, gratitude washes over him. He is grateful for everything he sees because he finally realizes that it is a creation of his own making.

He is eager to create more. Like a man that suddenly woke up to realize he is dreaming. The sky’s the limit. But, not really. The sky is only the beginning. He flies through space and views all the different star clusters in the universe. This is the paintbrush of the new age. It’s a real 4D work of art.

This is the beginning of a long tale of peace and prosperity for mother earth and all it’s inhabitants. In the old energy there was ‘..and they all lived happily ever after. The End.’ But, in the new energy everything is toppled. The new story goes, ‘..and they all lived happily ever after. The Beginning.’

This is a New Beginning for planet earth. We have begun by bringing you the gifts you deserve for there are many waiting to receive; or should I say, manifest these things. When one sleeps in the real world and is awake in a dream anything is possible. Whole worlds can be created with a mere thought. In fact, that’s exactly how worlds are created. We have manifested everything we see around us.

Everything you see around you began as an idea and holds within its blueprints the forming of matter. Trillions of atoms dancing around each other in perfect balance and harmony to make up that coffee cup. Billions of bits of intelligence working together to manifest an idea and hold it for some time.

Nothing stays the same in the dream world. Everything transforms into something else. At the end of the day, Gaia claims it back in order to produce something new and never before seen. Currently she is producing new ideas. These are the children being born. They are her offspring. We are here to tell you that when these little ‘ideas’ come of age and are able to create you are going to be amazed by what you see.

It’s going to be quite a show. All these little bits of matter being constructed on an atomic level into ‘physical’ objects. We are here to show you how you can begin creating like this. You’ve been given the Key to the Universe. Will you use it to unlock the door? It all begins with an idea…

[sariasprincy-writes]

Hollow Point 21

One // Two // Three // Four // Five // Six // Seven // Eight // Nine // Ten // Eleven // Twelve // Thirteen // Fourteen // Fifteen // Sixteen // Seventeen // Eighteen // Nineteen // Twenty // Twenty-One (here) 

a/n: Please note that this story contains themes that may be triggering. These themes include: murder, attempted rape and detailed/graphic violence. If you are uncomfortable reading any/all of these themes, please do not proceed.  Thank you.

Chapter Twenty-One The Changing Tides

Sakura took a long sip of coffee. With the other hand, she scrolled through her phone, mentally organizing her day, her shipments and her thoughts.

Releasing a drawn-out sign, Sakura darkened the screen of her phone. Her gaze fell out the little café she had grabbed coffee from. The panels were covered in raindrops. Beyond them, she could see it was still raining. Just a slight drizzle that dampened everything, washing the grey city in even more grey.

It made her want to go to bed. Curl up and watch a movie between naps.

But she couldn’t. She still had so much to do. Between overseeing the packing of the storage to the North and checking in on Ino and Naruto, her day was already full. Not to mention she still needed to pass Madara’s copycat device off to Itachi. Now that Sakura had had three days to buy another phone and make a copy for her own use.

Opening her phone up again, Sakura sent Itachi a text message. The address to one of her many apartments and a time.

She finished her coffee after that and stood, intending to begin another very long day. Her phone pinged with another notification the moment she stepped outside. Under the awning of the doorway, Sakura pulled her phone out again.

This time, it was Kabuto. With a nasty email. Unsurprising since she had declined his latest payment, seeing as she had frozen all her orders. Just one more thing she had to deal with today. Mentally she went over her schedule again. She supposed she could reach out to Kabuto after her meetings with Ino and Naruto, and before she saw Itachi. As long as Kabuto didn’t take too long.

With that decided, Sakura replied to his email as she headed down the sidewalk, weaving between the businessmen moving with purpose and the tourists lingering without.

At the end of the block, Kakashi was waiting for her. His dark Charger idling on the curb, headlights off and windshield wipers on low. He reached across the center console and opened the passenger seat from the inside for her. Once inside, he merged into traffic.

They spent the better part of the day together, just as they had for the last two days straight. He went with her as she conducted her business, organizing shipments and helping her secure safe locations. The storage up north was almost done and after meeting with Ino and Naruto, Sakura was beginning to feel a little better about everything. At least on her side of things.

“I’m going to send Ino to double check on the store in downtown while Naruto surveils the port,” Sakura said as they drove back towards the city.

Kakashi glanced at her briefly before his eyes fell to the road again. “And what about your things in South Central?”

Her fingers stilled over her phone. “Shit, I forgot about that.”

“Do you want to go there now?”

“Can’t, I have to meet with Kabuto,” she said. When Kakashi peered at her, she sighed, “He’s bitching again. Believe me, I don’t want to meet with him either, but he put in an order a week ago and I cancelled it. Hopefully by going to talk to him, I can shut him up for a while.”

Kakashi still didn’t look overly happy but he didn’t reply. They drove without speaking for a few minutes after that. Just the road humming along beneath their feel to keep the silence at bay.

Eventually Sakura darkened the screen of her phone, a soft sigh spilling past her lips. “How about this: you to South Central and I’ll go talk to Kabuto, and we’ll check in afterwards? That way everything gets done.”

Even in the dark, Sakura could see the downward pull of his lips but he nodded nevertheless. “Fine. I’ll drop you at your apartment in downtown. I think that’s where you left your car, right?”

She nodded before she resumed her scrolling through her phone. That would give her just enough time to speak with Kabuto before Itachi showed up.

It was still raining when Kakashi dropped her off. Fortunately, the parking was underground, the only water on the pavement tracked in from other vehicles as they came and went.

“Kabuto’s annoying, but he still pays. Try not to kill him,” was Kakashi’s parting words.

Sakura merely smiled a smile without promise before she headed to her own car.

Less than an hour later, she crossed the main bridge between New York and New Jersey. It had been a while since Sakura had been to the warehouse Kabuto liked to hide out in, but she recalling the winding roads down to the river.

The parking lot was mostly empty, except for the crowd of usual cars. The ones Kabuto and his groupies paraded around in. Little sporty Hondas. The ones that made a lot of noise while going nowhere fast.

The warehouse itself was dark when Sakura entered, her boots echoing against the wide walls of the large bay. She expected to find Kabuto in the back, like she always did. Only when she got there, the table was empty. As were the chairs scattered around it.

Unease settled in the pit of Sakura’s stomach and her hand went for her gun automatically. Out of the corner of her eye, a shadow flickered. She turned towards it as she drew her weapon, but before she could defend herself, something struck her hard on the side of the head. And her whole world went dark.

xx

Pain, pounding and throbbing, hit Sakura like a wave as she woke from her forced unconsciousness. She exhaled a tight breath, not daring to open her eyes just yet as she prayed for the ache in the back of her skull to recede. It didn’t, but it slowed to a deep, pulsing throb rather than a sharp, stab as she inhaled and exhaled and inhaled again.

The first thing she noticed after the pain was that she was lying on her side, her hands tied behind her back. Something she likely only realized because she wasn’t able to reach for her tender skull.

The next was that there were voices. At least two, possibly three somewhere behind her. But it was hard to make out through her pounding head and their mumbling. She strained to hear what they were saying, but the more she concentrated, the more her head ached.

Sakura wasn’t entirely sure much time passed. She dozed off and on, grateful for those brief minutes when sleep chased away the pain lancing through her temples.

She was just drifting off again when a door somewhere nearby slammed open. “So?” someone demanded. She would recognize Kabuto’s voice anywhere.

“She came alone,” one of his men told him.

“Not even her sniper?”

“Nowhere in sight.”

“Well that’s the job of a sniper, isn’t it?” Kabuto bit back harshly. “Go. Search the area. Find out for sure if he’s around.”

There was a hurry of footsteps across the concrete floors. Only once they had faded did she hear softer steps approach where she was laying. Sakura pretended to be unconscious. Which didn’t matter because Kabuto still landed a swift kick to her ribs. She hissed, keeping her yelp of pain locked firmly behind her teeth.

Kabuto was smirking down at her when she finally managed to roll over. His glasses flashed against the single, overhead light. She glared up at him.

“Well, well, Tsunade. Seems our positions are finally reversed for once,” he said, his tone openly smug.

“The only thing that’s changed, Kabuto, is where I was only just considering killing you before, is now a definite,” Sakura retorted.

He didn’t reply. Simply struck her again. Automatically she curled in on herself, hoping that the metallic taste on her tongue was from the dust and metal shavings on the floor and not blood.

“You would think someone in your position would be nicer. But you always were a big talker. I guess that’s what got you here in the first place,” Kabuto said, squatting down to be closer to her level. He rested his chin on his fist, his elbow supported on his knee. “You should have known better than to cross me. I always got you your payments, perhaps one or two were a little late, but you got them. And then you had the audacity to deny me my guns when my men needed them most.”

“Kabuto-”

But she never got the rest of her statement out as one of his men approached her from behind. The strike to her lower back left her winded, gasping for breath. She wasn’t even able to find the strength to struugle against the hands that grabbed her as she was hauled up and settled roughly into a chair. She likely would have tipped over had someone not straightened her again.

“Kabuto,” she tried again as she caught her breath, “I didn’t deny you guns out of spite. There are factors in play that you don’t understand-”

She cut off abruptly as one of his men backhanded her. She spat out the blood that coated her tongue before she glared at him. The man grinned right back, his broken front tooth gleaming in the light.

Kabuto didn’t reprimand his man but he held up a hand to keep him back. “You see, that’s the problem isn’t it?” he said, casually throwing her words from their last meeting back at her. “You’re a pretty girl, Tsunade. I’m sure that’s helped you get out of situations in the past. But it won’t help you here. I’ve found another supplier who can get me what I need. Which means I’m done with your threats and demands.”

She wasn’t sure she liked the cruel smile playing on his lips, but before she could open her mouth, he turned to a man on his left, a large brute that made Kabuto’s small frame appear even smaller. “Do whatever you want with her. Just make sure you dispose of her body afterwards.”

Sakura’s eyes grew wide as her heart jumped in her chest. Kabuto said nothing else. Merely flashed her one last parting glance before he turned and walked out of the room. The heavy, metal door slammed closed behind him. It sounded more like a coffin closing heavily over her head.

Sakura stared at the door until the man Kabuto had addressed stepped towards her. There was a dark, sinister smile on his face as he purposefully reached for the belt of his pants.

Her stomach twisted with disgust and unconsciously she pressed herself back into her chair, wishing it would just swallow her up and make her disappear. It didn’t. Instead, it only pushed against her skin, into the bruises and aches that throbbed just below the surface.

A hard knot began to grow in Sakura’s chest. A mix of terror, hate, rage. And hopelessness. She knew exactly what position she was in. What would likely happen next. And how there was very little she could do to stop it.

Her breath quickly became labored as her distress grew, but Sakura didn’t bother screaming. There was no one to hear her anyway. And in that moment, every fiber of her being regretted her decision to not have Kakashi come with her. She never realized how much she had taken him for granted until now.

On either side of her, more men approached. All wearing that same, matching smile that made her actually, physically ill. She began to struggle, the bounds around her wrists burning into her skin and unyielding. Then one of them was on top of her, one hand grasping her breast painfully through her shirt while the other snaked up the inside of her thigh.

Sakura did the only thing she could think of. She kicked off the ground, knocking her chair backwards. With her hands still tied behind her back, she landed on them heavily. Pain raced through one wrist but she ignored it, using the momentum to roll away from the men crowding her. It gave her enough time to slip her hands in front of her before she pushed herself to her feet.

Sakura didn’t know how she was going to escape. There were at least ten of Kabuto’s men in the room. All with the intent to hurt her. Defile her. They stalked towards her purposely.

“Here, kitty kitty,” one of the men cooed cruelly.

The rest of them all laughed as they took a step forward. Sakura stepped back, matching their pace.

“C’mere, doll face, we’re not going to hurt you,” another off to one side snickered.

Sakura glared at him, realizing a moment too late that the distraction had work. Another man grabbed her from the side and knocked her to the ground, pressing his body down and on top and against her. She tried not to retch at the foul musk of sweat and cigarette smoke.

“C’mon, baby,” he said huskily in her ear. “We just wanna have some fun.”

With a growl of frustration and pain and terror, Sakura tried to shove him away when his fingers slipped under the hem of her shirt and splayed against her stomach. She struggled against him, feeling herself losing the battle. She had never felt so helpless. So desperate in a fight to escape.

That’s when her knee connected with something hard against his hip. A second later, her eyes caught the glint of a handle of a gun. And in that moment, something other than panic rippled through her. Something that distracted her from how alone and defenseless she felt.

Like a light turning on, Kakashi’s training kicked in. Sakura dug her heel into the man’s other hip and pushed out with as much strength as she could muster. It gave her just enough separation to reach down with her bound hands and grab his gun before she kicked him between the legs.

With a loud curse, he scrambled back, both hands cupping himself. The fury was obvious in his eyes when he peered up at her through watery eyes. “You bitch, I’m gonna fucking kill-”

A bullet through his eye cut him off abruptly before he slumped to the floor and didn’t move again.

The rest of the men stilled, realizing the shift of power at that exact moment. Then they all scrambled. But Sakura was already moving. She unloaded two more rounds into the bodies of two more men before a third managed to reach her.

His hand tightened around the barrel of the gun just as she pulled the trigger. A scream tore from his throat as she unloaded the last two bullets into his gut. He dropped his own weapon before he collapsed to the ground, his hands around his stomach where black blood bubbled.

Sakura didn’t give him a second glance. Merely grabbed his discarded gun from the floor before she moved on.

The rest of the men either scattered for cover or tried to restrain her as well. Only one made it close enough to touch her. He grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back until she was looking up at him. There was a murderous sneer on his face but it vanished when she stomped on his foot and brought the gun in her tied hands up to hit him upside the nose.

He stumbled back as she ripped her hair out of his grasp. Her skull stung but her anger burned stronger. Sakura was nearly seeing red when she swung around to face him. Blood gushed out his nose as he pointed his gun at her. She dodged as the sharp crack rang through the air.

With her adrenaline pulsing, Sakura didn’t know if she had been shot, but she felt the rope binding her wrists together loosen. Not enough to fall away but enough that she was finally able to break her bounds and free her hands completely.

Then she went after the man once more. He aimed at her again just as she closed the space between them. Grabbing his wrist, she pushed his gun far above her head as she unloaded a round into his chest. This close, she felt the metal round rip through his ribs. When he gasped, she saw his broken front tooth. The man that had hit her.

With the cruelest of smiles, Sakura held his gaze as she lodged two more bullets through his flesh. Feeling the exact moment his heart stopped.

In less than a minute, Sakura took out the rest of the men. The ones who had come in unarmed looking for a show. She panted hard, her labored breathing echoing around the room like she had just run a marathon. And she felt like it with her aching sides and sore muscles.

The entire room looked like something out of a horror film. Bodies were strewn about, blood collecting in little pools around them and flecked up the walls and across the concrete. It took her a moment to realize that over her own panting, she could hear another. Just a soft, shaky inhale and exhale.

Looking down, Sakura saw the faint rise and fall of one of her attacker’s chest. Still alive. She fixed that with a single bullet to the back of his skull.

Then she exited through the door Kabuto had departed through. Her only thought of finding him. And ending him.

At the bottom of the staircase was another one man, supposedly standing guard. He must have not heard the commotion upstairs through the thick steel for he never even heard her approach. Only dropped to the ground with a single shot.

To her disappointment, Kabuto was already gone. That didn’t stop Sakura from taking out the rest of the men in the warehouse, one-by-one. Until all that remained in her wake were corpses and an unspoken story of what would become of those who tried to double-cross her.

xx

The entire apartment building was quiet when Sakura arrived. Still, she took the back stairs to the top floor where her condo was, only too aware of the blood and other bodily fluids that clung to her skin and clothes.

She tried not to think about it. About how her hands were still shaking, about how her hair stuck to the side of her neck from more than just sweat, about how much her wrist was killing her. She just focused on one step at a time and trying to get into her apartment before anyone saw her.

Which is why when she exited the stairwell and saw someone sitting on the step outside her door, she stilled. It took her a moment to recognize Itachi but she didn’t immediately relax when he looked up at the sound of the stairwell door closing behind her. The last thing she wanted was a visitor right now.

“What are you doing here?” she asked quietly when he didn’t speak or move to stand.

He stared at her a moment before he finally said, “We were supposed to meet hours ago.”

There was a faint note of irritation in his voice. One she didn’t understand until she realized she was still standing in the shadows. Just out of the hall light.

Letting out a small, ironic laugh, she took a single step forward. “Sorry. Something came up.”

Itachi didn’t move, but his eyes grew large as he traced her from top to bottom. He seemed like he was trying to find what to say as he pushed himself to his feet slowly. The questions of ‘how’ and ‘what’ and ‘are you okay’ formed over his expression, but the words never made it past his tongue as a door slammed closed elsewhere in the building.

It seemed to blink him out of his trance. “Let’s get you inside,” he said instead.

They didn’t speak after that. Even after Itachi slid the deadbolt in place behind him. Even after Sakura slipped her boots off. She simply headed further inside towards the bathroom.

There, she stripped slowly, carefully. First her pants, followed by her shirt. A low hiss escaped her when she reached back for the clasp of her bra. The dull ache in her sides sharpening to something more pronounced with the action.

Without hesitation, Itachi stepped forward from where he had been in the doorway. So still and silent and watchful she hadn’t realized he was there. She tensed at his initial contact, barely relaxing when he helped her slide the material off her shoulders and down her arms with gentle fingers.

In the mirror, Sakura saw the full extent of the damage. Blood splattered against her hands, smeared along her collarbone and neck, and flecked across her face. Bruises had already formed on her sides, dark and looking as painful as they felt. But it was her wrists that were the worst. Rope burns cut into her skin, the right one already swollen where she had landed on it.

Unable to look at the damage any longer, she peered up at Itachi. Through the mirror, their eyes met. His gaze never wavering from hers. She could see the questions lingering there but he didn’t ask and she didn't answer. Merely turned away to turn on the shower.

By the time Sakura had scrubbed all the crimson and grime from her skin, the air in the bathroom was thick with steam. Itachi was no longer there, only a towel left by the shower stall the only evidence he had ever been there. She didn’t know if she was more or less relieved that he was gone.

Sakura dried herself in silence, wrapping the soft towel around her middle carefully before she used her hand to wipe the mist off the mirror. She frowned at the blemish in the corner of her mouth, recalling how the man with the broken tooth had hit her. Which was immediately followed with the memory of her unloading three bullets into his ribcage. Those shots ringing in her ear, feeling them ripple through his body under her hand.

Sakura looked away from the mirror sharply. She didn't dare peer into it again before she headed into the adjoined bedroom. There, she pulled on a hoodie and a pair of pajama shorts before she wandered into the rest of the condo.

To her surprise, she found Itachi in the living room, sitting on the longue chair beside the coffee table. He was typing on his phone but he looked up when he heard her footsteps. She stopped in the doorway and eyed him uncertainly. She had thought he had left. With him sitting there, watching her, she wasn't sure if she wanted to tell him to go away or not.

In the end, she said nothing. Simply sat on one side of the couch. Itachi didn't speak either. Not even when he stood a minute later. Sakura watched him curiously when he disappeared into the kitchen. She didn't know what he was doing in there, but he came back a few minutes later with two shot glasses and a bottle of her best tequila.

He sat beside her before he uncorked the bottle. As soon as he filled one glass, Sakura grabbed it, tossing it back in one go. Hoping the unforgiving grip of alcohol would blur the memory of hands on her chest, between her legs. In her soul. She clung to her anger and the memory of their blood between her fingers. Warm and sticky.

Without a word, Itachi refilled her shot after he had finished topping off his. This time, they drank together.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Itachi asked eventually.

Sakura blew a long breath out between her lips. Not looking at him as she leaned forward to place her shot glass back down. He refilled it immediately.

“Not much to talk about,” Sakura said.

Not sure if she should be telling him anything. He was still CIA. And she had just doubled her kill count in one night. She didn’t know how she felt about that either.

“Just a deal gone bad,” she continued before she reached for the shot glass again. Hoping he didn’t see the way her hands trembled slightly.

She pretended not to notice he was still watching her. Or how close he sat beside her. Even after her shower, her skin was still crawling. She wanted to run her nails down her arms, over her chest. Tear the feeling of those other hands on her body.

“Do you need anything?” he asked.

Sakura let out a cruel laugh. What could he possibly do that could make her feel any better? Tell her he was sorry? Hold her? Perhaps pour her another drink?

“Why are you even still here?” she retorted instead, her anger rearing.

She hoped her words cut into him. Made him bleed. Made him hurt. Like she had. Like she still was.

Because there was something about Uchiha Itachi that made her feel vulnerable, like he could see into her, through her. And the worst part was, she didn’t entirely hate it. She felt safe with him. Secure. As if she could tell him her deepest, darkest secrets and he would only just listen. All without judgement.

But Itachi didn’t become offended by her harsh tone. Instead, a look of confusion passed over his face. Like he didn’t entirely understand why he was still there either. When he blinked, the look was gone. “I am just concerned about you,” he said so softly, so quietly like a caress.

Her eyes narrowed defensively. “It’s not part of your job to be concerned about me.”

“No, but I am anyway.”

“Why?”

Itachi didn’t immediately reply. Then he said, “Because you aren’t what I expected.”

“And what did you expect?” Sakura asked flatly, already feeling the pull of the alcohol. It helped dull the pain in her body and mind. She poured herself another drink before asking, “Did you think I was just some girl who was in over her head?”

To her surprise, he shook his head, his gaze falling somewhere out the window. “No. I thought you were cold and cruel and heartless.” Then he looked at her. “But you’re not. You’re smart and cunning, and though you may not be ‘good’, you’re not evil.”

Sakura stared at him, her anger dissipating as quickly as it had come. Their eyes met. Holding the full attention of the other for one heartbeat. And another.

Then Itachi laughed humorlessly.

"What?" she asked.

"I want to kiss you right now. But I shouldn’t," he said with a fleeting smile. “I don’t know what happened tonight, but-.”

Itachi never finished that sentence. Not before Sakura reached up and gripped the front of his shirt before she sealed her mouth to his.

There were a million reasons why they shouldn’t be doing this, but Itachi never voiced one. Not even when she slipped herself into his lap, her arms wrapping around his middle as her fingers dug into the back of his shirt like he was her lifeline. He, in turn, held her gently, his hands cupping her face as if she were made of dust. One slip away from falling between his fingers. Lost forever.

She could still taste the bite of tequila on his tongue as he kissed her. His mouth moving with hers only to break away to press soft kisses to her jaw and chin and the corner of her mouth. Where the bruising still lingered. His lips were careful and soft like he was trying to kiss the ache away.

She fought against the swell of emotion that built in her chest. It stung in the deepest part of her chest and in the corner of her eyes. She tried to blink it back as she pulled his lips back to hers, but it was too late. The feeling had sunken too deep.

If he noticed her tears, he didn’t mention it. Only smoothed his fingers through her hair and along her spine as she rested her head on his shoulder. Just listening to his strong, steady heartbeat beside her own as the rain pattered softly against the window. It didn’t stop until just before dawn.

to be continued…

[lokikingofasgardslover713]

Helot: Strange

Masterlist

Loki Laufeyson X Plus Size Unnamed OFC

Warnings: LEMONS! Loki being an asshole, blood

Summary: Under threat of punishment, we learn little of the woman brought on board. Though smaller events begin to paint a image of violence and endless torment.

A/N: I will be naming the OFC. This story will not be a nice one, and Loki will be his usual asshole self.

Words: +2,400

The instant the two gods sat foot on the ship it was another argument over how Loki treated her, how he handled the situation and the shop owner. The woman going to the bunks to take her seat on the top one she claimed as hers the moment the craft began to level out. Not long after, she heard the two brothers arguing as they hurried to the bunk room.

Loki locked gazes with her, and immediately her nose began to bleed. Quickly the woman slipped to her feet to glare up at him. The god pulling the device out of his pocket, the one that would remove the disc. Thor looked irate but kept his mouth shut as he fumed behind his brother.

“Tell me what they call you,” Loki began as he glared at her, a low ringing beginning in her left ear. She scowled back, blood trickling from her ear and dripping onto the robe.

“Loki,” Thor growled as he stepped forward, Loki holding up his hand to pause Thor the instant he was next to him.

“Either she will answer our questions or bleed out before us. She is weak, she may have a death, fetish, but I believe she wants to live,” Loki spoke up as she looked to him, then Thor, before returning her gaze to him. Her right ear beginning to ring, closing her eyes in hopes it would fore go the inevitable, but she had a feeling he wouldn’t give up like Thor would. Loki would let her fall to the floor an unconscious heap just to prove a point.

“Answer our questions and you get that thing off,” he spoke as she opened her eyes. Blood trickling from her right ear. Taking a deep breath, yes she wanted it off with all she was, she was so stubborn, so proud, she was a fucking goddess reduced to this. Might as well admit to it.

“I don’t remember my name,” she spoke up, electric blue burning through them as the bleeding ebbed before the next question.

“Why,” Loki spoke, it was an odd thing to admit to, an odd thing that was the truth, evidenced by the ebbing of blood.

“Because it was drilled out of my skull,” she snarled, blood painting her teeth and hinting to more bleeding that looked to have stopped at the moment.

“Then tell us what you do remember,” Thor spoke up, stepping next to Loki.

Blood trickled from her eyes now, making her rub between them to soothe the device, to make it stop bleeding her dry.

“I feel no pain! All I know is I was born like this! My first memory is being held in a dungeon and that was centuries ago,” she snarled, still bleeding from her eyes, but she was holding their gaze. Falling to her knees due to blood loss, shutting her eyes, body doing what it had to in order to survive. Hands palm up on her thighs, head bowed as she remained crumpled to the ground.

She felt something press to the device, it's tendrils receding from her brain, choking on blood that flooded her nasal cavity. It was already repairing itself, but she couldn’t stop as she fell forward to spit out the mouth full that threatened to choke once again.

Opening her eyes as she was lifted to her bunk to lock gazes with Thor. The god before her wiping the blood from her face, Loki nowhere to be found.

“He is crude and for that I apologize,” Thor spoke up as he wiped gore from her lips before handing her a bottle of water. “You should feel better in a few days. You're free to do whatever you want. Is there somewhere you would like us to drop you off?”

With a shake of her head no, the god understood. It was just as he thought, she had nowhere to go. “We arrive at earth in several cycles,” he explained, handing her another bottle of water before leaving her alone. The woman nodding as she pulled her feet up in the bunk to lay down, curling under the black blanket adorned in golden, knotted snakes.

Silence woke her, silence was a thing that terrified her now days. She used to relish in the quiet, loved to sit alone with nothing or no one to speak to. Silence that used to help her track, to hear, but now, now it sent shivers up her spine, despite the powerful creature she was.

Gingerly sitting up, she looked around the small sleeping area to note no drone of the engines. There was walking along the grates in the cockpit. Sliding from her bunk, she realized there were clothes laid at the foot of it for her. Hastily she put them on to hurry out of the area to find it was Loki that was the one walking around.

Preparing to actually speak, she paused at the sight of what laid outside the cockpit window. Terra. It had been centuries since she had sat foot here, gaze flicking to Loki who eyed her close, but didn’t dare interrupt her pondering. Or at least for the moment.

“They are waiting on us. Apparently these mortals want us both to meet with them,” he spoke hotly as he stepped past her, the woman turning to look at him with furrowed brow.

Loki paused to look back at her, she glowered at him, studied him. Then finally her defiance reared its ugly head and made him stop to stand ready for her vicious words of hatred.

Wanting to spit at him, wanting to tell him to go fuck off, but she really didn’t feel like a yelling match with him. Figuring it was best not to say a word as she stepped towards him and hinted he led the way off the ship.

He wanted to smirk at her willingness to not start an argument, but instinct told him for once to shut up and accept this as a small truce. Leading the way, he didn’t expect her reaction the moment they began to step off into the dying light of day on the well-manicured lawn. Her footsteps didn’t follow past the hinge of the hanger. Turning to put up with her defiance, he froze at the look of terror he seen

Loki kept his composure, the usual unreadable look but inside he could feel the fear that lurked behind her eyes. Her body didn’t betray her feeling but the flicker in her electric blue eyes did. Watching them closely as they dulled, as if resigning to a fate unknown to him.

Screaming, she heard screaming, yelling, pleading, burning, scorched flesh, and darkness. It lasted less than a second, blocking it out and taking steps off of the platform. Shooting a look at Loki who for once didn’t ask or snip at her as he turned and led her into the structure ahead of them.

Introductions made, she still never spoke to anyone, Thor speaking up for her to inform them she didn’t speak much. The instant she seen her opening she disappeared back to the ship before they sat down to have a meal with the ones they called the Avengers. Yes, she did owe Thor her life, even Loki, but she owed the team nothing, and she knew they would know where to find her.

The sound of someone stepping on board the craft within a few minutes of her disappearing told her that she was missed. The god of thunder finding her sitting on her bunk deep in thought as he entered the small sleeping area. Thor giving her a faint smile as he stopped before her.

“You are welcome to eat with us. There will be plenty,” he began but she smiled and shook her head no. “Understood. I will bring you something then.”

Nodding her head in acknowledgement, the god turned and left her alone. The woman going back to staring off into nothing and thinking of naught. Less than an hour later Thor came back to the craft with Loki on his heels, obvious the god of mischief wasn’t happy, once again, but he thankfully went to the cockpit.

“I need to speak with you,” Thor began as he handed her a plate of food to which she didn’t hesitate to take. Nodding her head for him to continue while slowly beginning to pick at the food.

“Do you plan to stay on the craft? I am asking because my brother will be leaving with in the hour, and I would be obliged if you traveled with him,” Thor admitted as she studied him close. Electric blue looking over him as if she could see his very soul and not truly knowing what she was, she may be able to.

Nodding her head she would stay, he thanked her and left her alone to finish her meal. Only leaving the bunk when she finished, using her, skills to place the dirty plate on the counter, inside the compound as she stood on the hanger that was beginning to close.

Stepping back in she made her way to the cockpit, taking the other pilots seat to instinctively help Loki get the craft into the air and out of the atmosphere. Loki wanted to speak to her, to find out more about her but he had a feeling it would end in blood before she ever gave information freely. However, if she didn’t know her name then she may not know anything about herself. The god followed her every move as she got up and apparently returned to the bunks.

When he finally did step back to the dark sleeping area he decided now was a good as time as any to rest. Only a few minutes after he laid down on the bunk below hers did she slide from her own, and within moments she straddled his hips.

Jolting up right to protest, to berate her but wasn’t prepared for steady hands to wrap in his shirt to pull his lips to hers in a harsh kiss. It tasted of bitter metallic that stung his nostrils as he inhaled sharply. His own motions surprised him, thinking to push her off, only for his hands to wrap around her face to prevent her from pulling away.

Allowing one hand to slide free, to grip at the leathers she wore to find she was completely bare. Pushing free from the kiss, he glared into her lust blown eyes, his own searching, trying to understand her. The woman shivered, it couldn’t be cold, her body felt as if it was about to burn him alive. Was this reflex, or want? Was this to survive, a learned behavior so to say or was it-.

Jerking with strength he never noted she possessed, she pulled his lips back to hers. Unknown to him she freed one hand to reach between them. Fingers following the leathers he wore, ghosting them until she found what she grasped for. There wasn’t a thought in her mind but to satisfy, and which ever one it was she was to satisfy was unknown.

Before he realized it, the woman freed shamefully hard man hood and sank around it. Warmth enveloped his engorged member and he couldn’t help the shameful gasp that escaped at the feeling it gave him. This woman, or whatever she truly was, was aggressive, needy, rough and he wasn’t about to refuse her as she snapped her hips against his mercilessly.

His hands going to her ample breast, palming, teasing the pert buds to make her heated body arch into him more. It was nothing but need and animalistic behavior as he slammed up into her, sitting up to assault her soft breast, nipping, biting, sucking, marking her as his. He felt her rubbing her clit against him, ragged gasps escaping her but nothing above a whisper, obvious she was chasing her high.

Climax coming fast for both as he spilled into her pulsing cunt. Spilling his seed into her as she slowly rutted at him, keeping herself upright and away from him even when he tugged at her. Loki looked up to her, head thrown back and body arched away from him as she finished the chase.

He felt her tense, then shift to slide off of him, leaving Loki looking after her as she stepped towards the small bathroom. Combined arousal leaking down her thighs as she stepped into the small space and shut the door. Even with the lights off she could see the bites he had left, nothing new really, they all marked her in one way or the other. Grabbing a cloth, she decided to clean up the old way, she needed to conserve her seidr and the bites would be healed by the time she woke.

Loki used his seidr to take care of himself while preparing his speech that it was best she sleep in her own bunk. Hearing the door open to the bathroom, he sat up on the bunk, ready to turn her down, but the words never made it past his throat.

Without acknowledging the god, she slept above, the bare woman climbed into her bunk, covered herself and appeared to fall asleep.

Opening his mouth, preparing to get to his feet, rage boiling in his gut, vicious words on the tip of his tongue. How dare she use him and act as though nothing happened! He had prepared a speech to inform her of how the relationship was to be between them and now it died on his tongue.  

No, he wasn’t about to put much thought into it, laying back down on his mattress. She was a slave, which meant there would be strange habits to deal with and break; but she got pleasure from this as well.

If this woman had gotten her own pleasure from the act, that meant she was no longer acting as a thrall. If she was, then thralls know not to take or gain any pleasure from sexual acts, just praise. This woman, creature, was turning out to be a mystery that needed to be solved, as well as her growing power that made his own seidr thrum.

Maybe this was the reason Thor insisted she stay on the craft, why his brother had told her he needed her to stay with Loki. The dark god unsure with anyone’s take on the situation at the moment. The only thing he was sure of was she is a powerful being that was broken, possibly beyond repair and he needed to understand just how broken before she caused him harm.

Tags open! And re-blogs are ALWAYS welcomed!

Tags: @dark-night-sky-99  @prettybubblesintheair  @gramaeryebard  @reallyheckinggay  @jovanna-shewolf  @andiyholly  @katstablook   @nickyl316h  @beets1bears1battlestargalactica @aslandia726 @moonfaery @furstinnajoelle   @itsbqueenthings @lookwhatyoumademequeue @moonlightprime @bambamwolf87 @tomhardy41 @get-loki @drakonwild @alexakeyloveloki @devilbat @jazzieomega

[imagining-supernatural]

Fibonacci Demons

My entry for Helen's Unpopular Songs Writing Challenge

Summary: The reader reminiscences about how Dean has helped her want to get better and beat her demons.

Word Count: 2161

Warnings: Depression, therapy session, drinking & drugs, angst in a way? Kind of like detached angst? That's what I was going for anyway. Dean being such a sweetheart.

A/N: Congrats on your followers @dancing-the-hellfire-rumba! This is an AU where the supernatural world doesn't exist and all of our monsters are mental and physical. (Wouldn't that be nice if that was an AU for real life too?) My "unpopular song" is My Demons by Starset which should totally not be an unpopular song because it's absolutely wonderful.

Based on the song My Demons by Starset

Version en Español: Fibonacci Demons

Rain spattered against the window. The soft raindrops seemed at war with the harsh wind. You stared at the glass as you tried to find the right words.

“You know, entropy is defined as a gradual decline into disorder.”

Now it was your fingers in your lap that drew your attention. They were always cold. Your toes too. The rest of your body was always fine, but your fingers and toes couldn’t seem to keep any warmth. Maybe that’s why you spent most of the day tangling, untangling, massaging, and pulling at your fingers. Anything to get some of that warmth to trickle down your arm and into your palm before spreading to the tips.

“Or, instead of entropy, you can use deterioration, degeneration, decline, and collapse.”

“Is that how you see your life?”

You finally looked up at the middle-aged man sitting across from you. His receding hairline and curved eyebrows made you believe that he really did care. Hopefully he did care. You were paying a lot for this session.

“Yes. It’s like a backwards Fibonacci Spiral. You know, the mathematic formula where you add zero and one to get one. Then you add one and one to get two. Then one and two to get three. Then two and three to get five. Then three and five to get eight. And you keep adding the last two numbers in the sequence until you have astronomically large numbers?”

“But a backwards version of that.”

A quick nod was your answer, but the therapist just watched you a moment longer and you felt compelled to explain.

“Like, instead of getting bigger and learning from the past, I’m breaking down. I’m not spiraling out into bigger and better things. I’m spiraling down the toilet drain. Something is dragging me backwards.”

“Something is dragging you backwards? What do you mean by that?”

The air felt different in this office than in the rest of the world. Was that a side effect of all of the psychology books on the wall, and the simple, yet tasteful trinkets sprinkled around the room? Whatever it was, the air felt… lighter. It was easier. Safer.

“I don’t really know. I feel like I’m just waiting for a switch to flip inside of me. I feel like… like someday I won’t be me anymore.”

“If that happens, do you know who you’ll become?”

“Not who. What.”

“What’re you putting in?”

Mike just grinned and finished shaking the rest of the mystery powder into your glass of vodka.

“Does it matter? Promise you’ll like it. Just try it.”

You were teetering on the edge of the line. The line between harsh reality and glorified escape. Whatever drug Mike just added to your drink would be sure to push you over the edge.

If you told anyone, they would think you were crazy. But you could feel all of your organs. No matter what you did, you could feel them blackening and rotting. Whatever sickness you had, it set you apart from the rest of your peers. They could always come back from nights like these with headaches and smiles. Not quite so for you.

But your glorified escape helped you forget your demons for a few hours.

Slowly, you forced your arm to lift the glass up to your lips.

“I wouldn’t drink that if I were you.”

The glass was touching your bottom lip when you paused to consider this newcomer’s advice. His deep voice matched his cutting jawline and jade eyes perfectly. At no point in your entire history of parties like this had you ever laid eyes on such a perfectly symmetrical face.

“Why not?”

“Meg had some and she’s puking up everything she’s eaten in the last two weeks right now.”

He jerked his head towards the back of the house where you could see someone through the window, bent over a bush.

“I’m Dean, by the way.”

Just like that, the glass was slowly lowering from your lips and the spread of the dark rot inside of you started slowing.

“Y/N.”

“What do you think you’ll become if this switch flips?”

This office was much too clean. Everything seemed too shiny. It wasn’t someplace you should feel comfortable. You should be wracked with worry that your mere presence will defile the tidy space. But yet you stayed in the soft chair, massaging each knuckle of your fingers one by one.

“Have you ever watched any of those old movies with zombies or some sort of gross monster? The good movies before Hollywood romanticized everything. I’m talking about the skin rotting off of the bones, sunken eyes, stringy hair… You see those before?”

“Is that what you feel is inside? What is on the other side of the switch?”

A nod in response.

“Yeah. I just… They keep growing bigger and bigger. They’re everywhere. In my brain, my lungs, my stomach, my kidneys… Everywhere. I used to just get drunk and high to forget it all for a few hours, but that’s not enough. Not anymore.”

Small, pointy hands were clawing their way up your esophagus, trying to make you shut up. They didn’t want you to get help. They wanted to keep dragging you down. It would be easier to let them have their way. Follow the Fibonacci Spiral backwards until you were nothing, down to zero.

“Not anymore. What’s changed?”

Your answer was immediate.

“Dean.”

This was always the worst part. Waking up and coming down. Remembering the rot in your life. Figuring out where you were. Piecing together what you’d done last night.

“Mornin’ Princess.”

Squinted eyes barely made out a shirtless man in an unfamiliar kitchen. As he walked closer, your eyes slowly focused on his face and those alarmingly green eyes begged you to remember. You wanted to remember this man. Something about this man was important. Something about him made him important to you. Something…

“Where am I?”

“My place. Out by the railroad station.”

The party had been at Mike’s house. At least, you thought so.

“I’m glad you woke up. I was just trying to decide between pancakes and waffles for breakfast.”

“How about some water and aspirin?”

His chuckle danced across the air and settled into your bones. That’s when the realization hit. The rot. It wasn’t spreading anymore. It was just sitting in your tissues and cells, stagnant. For the first time since you could remember, you were standing still.

“Next to you on the table.”

There, two feet to your right, was a glass of water and a shot glass with three red pills in it. Perhaps it wasn’t smart to trust this stranger with a drink and pills, but you were so far past that point in your life, so you quickly downed everything.

“So, pancakes or waffles?”

“What happened last night?”

Even through this raging headache, you could tell that this man—Dean?—kept his apartment surprisingly clean for a guy. The couch you’d woken up on was comfortable and seemed to be stain-free. There was a recliner across the room, and a large, flat-screen TV on the opposite wall. A tasteful rug and coffee table rounded out the living room. This wasn’t a normal bachelor pad.

“You were pretty wasted last night. We talked for a while then you decided you wanted fries, so I took you to the diner and we ended up here where you passed out as soon as you sat down. I promise, nothing happened.”

Nothing? It wasn’t uncommon to wake up in some stranger’s bed. That seemed to be your weekend tradition. But the clothes you’d worn yesterday were still on your body, and there were two blankets on top of you. You weren’t used to this level of kindness. Usually men just wanted to get you drunk or high, have sex, then never see you again.

But Dean hadn’t touched you. He set out aspirin and water for you. He gave you blankets after you’d passed out on his couch. He intended to make you breakfast.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t be? You’re not some serial killer, are you?”

There was a note of levity in his voice. A twinkle in his eye. A grin on his lips.

“No. Not yet, anyway. But you don’t even know me.”

It was only a matter of time before the rot took over your life. Maybe you wouldn’t let it get that far, or maybe you wouldn’t have a choice. Either way, you didn’t deserve people’s kindness.

“How about I make some breakfast and I get to know you, then? Maybe I can help you hide the bodies.”

After a quick wink, he stood up and headed back to the kitchen.

“Pancakes or waffles?”

“Dean. He’s the man who came with you today? The one waiting in the lobby?”

“Yeah. He’s my boyfriend.”

The rain was still pattering against the window. By now, more clouds had joined the war outside, darkening the room. Thunder pounded distantly, but this room felt safe. You were safe here. Not quite as safe as you were when you were with Dean, but you were still safe enough.

“How did Dean change this? You said that getting high and drunk isn’t enough anymore. What did he change about that?”

“I don’t want to escape anymore. When I was numbing myself, I was just forgetting about the monsters inside of me, but they were still there. They were still growing and multiplying and planning attacks. Then I met Dean and… and they stopped. They didn’t leave, but they stopped growing. When I’m with him, everything stands still. I’m not losing the fight, because they aren’t fighting back.”

Movement caught your eye and one of those perpetual motion toys caught your attention. Three separate silver rods swung around a fulcrum, never slowing and never stopping.

“I want that. I want to keep moving. Keep moving forward. I don’t want to lose to my demons and I don’t want to stand still. Dean makes me feel better. He takes all of my pain away. But I don’t want him to have to do that. I don’t want to have any pain that he needs to take away. I don’t want to keep worrying that I’m going to turn into my demons and he’ll have to deal with that. I want to… I need to get better.”

What is it about candles that make truth come out? Is it easier to whisper harsh truths to a flame, knowing that as soon as you blow it out, your secret will dissipate with the smoke?

“I won’t let that happen, I promise.”

Dean’s vow skipped across the warm water and slowly sunk into the tub. In the darkened, candle-lit bathroom, and with the smooth water in the big tub curling around you and Dean, soft words were spoken and dark secrets revealed. Not once did he flinch as you introduced him to the monsters that had emerged from the growing rot within you.

“What if you can’t help? What if I’m just crazy and it’s my destiny to give in and lose control?”

“Then I’ll save you. But you aren’t crazy, Y/N.”

It seemed impossible that someone could become so important to you in the span of just a few weeks. That someone could love you, even after you peeled back your skin and showed them the dark mush that had replaced your organs. This moment, the moment with Dean’s chest pressed against your back, and the warm, relaxing water hugging your bodies shouldn’t exist.

“I can’t stop it, Dean. I’ve lived with this for so long and I can’t fight it. It’s taking control and I don’t know what to do.”

“You let me help. You keep talking to me about this. And… maybe we go find someone else who can help too. I promise, Y/N. We will kill your monsters.”

“Thank you, again. I’ll see you in a week.”

After a quick, firm handshake, you were watching your therapist walk back to his office. A sharp fingernail dragged across your intestines. The monsters were still there. It wouldn’t be easy to get rid of them. You were still a single raindrop in the torrential windstorm outside. Helpless.

But it wouldn’t always be like this.

“How’d it go?”

Dean’s familiar hand warmed the small of your back. No time was wasted as you turned and hugged him. His arms blanketed you in comfort and reassurance. There was an unbelievably huge battle waiting for you in the future, but you weren’t alone.

“Keep making me believe everything will be okay. I can do this. But I can’t do it without you.”

His strong, calloused fingers framed your face. He lowered his forehead to yours. The contact calmed the storm within you, freezing the demons.

“You’ll never have to do this without me, Y/N.”

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[moonshinemonty]

For @xoheatherkw. Happy Secret Santa! Sorry this got posted so late, this was supposed to be short! And now it’s almost 3k!!! This got ENTIRELY out of hand. It has a very fluffy ending.

“Blech.” Kirsten manages a pitiful groan as she lifts her head from the toilet bowl, turning her head just enough to see Cameron hovering in the bathroom doorway. His brow is furrowed under his glasses, hair still fluffy from sleep.

“You still sick, Stretch?” He’s there in an instant, kneeling beside her on the tile, his hand tracing soft circles on her back.

Once, she would have hated it. Would have preferred privacy. But he’s warm, and the bathroom floor is cool, and the wave of nausea is already beginning to recede, so she leans her shoulder against his chest.

“I guess so. Three days in a row, Maggie’s gonna love that.”

He makes a dismissive noise from behind her, hand coming up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“She’ll be fine. Besides, that’s kind of how being sick works. You don’t get to schedule in one day wherever it’s convenient.” His voice is firm, like he’s already playing out the argument with their boss in his head.

Kirsten sighs.

“This is stupid. I felt fine last night, and now-”

“Now you’re going to rest while I make you some chicken soup.” He hops back to his feet, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. He scampers off, leaving Kirsten to roll her eyes and stand unsteadily to brush her teeth.

God, she’s sick of soup.

It’s all going fine, her stomach settled with the help of some organic gingerale and saltines. She even has a small bowl of soup to appease the worried glances Cameron keeps sending her way.

And then he brings out a little bowl of tapenade for himself, spreading it on a cracker, and Kirsten is face first in the sink before she even has time to register that horrific smell of olives.

She throws up the soup, and the saltines and the gingerale. She feels the hand on her back without hearing him come up behind her, and sighs, taking the glass of water he offers to rinse out her mouth.

“I want you to go to a doctor.”

She waves him off, turning around slowly so as not to antagonize her slowly settling stomach.

“I’m fine.”

He raises an eyebrow, and Kirsten blanches as she catches sight of her reflection in his glasses. She really does look awful, almost grey save for the splotches of bright red on her cheeks.

“You don’t seem fine. One or two days of something like this is normal, but you’ve been sick since Tuesday. You should be feeling better by now.”

“I am!” Kirsten insists, relenting a little under his scrutinizing gaze. “Except for when I’m not.”

He takes her hand, which she’s sure is sweaty, and a little clammy, and fixes her with that pleading look that she’s beginning to be painfully aware usually ends in him getting his way.

“Please?” He asks quietly. “I’m worried about you, Stretch. It’s probably nothing, but there’s no point in being sick for two weeks and finding out we could have done something about it.”

“You’re a doctor,” she mumbles, dropping her gaze and her voice.

“I’m not that kind of doctor.”

When she looks at him again, she knows she’s lost.

“Alright,” she says. He smiles, cupping her cheek in his hand, soft and sweet. She leans into it, as has become habit.

“I’ll call Ayo.”

Kirsten just nods and drops into the nearest stool with a sigh.

She makes sure he puts the tapenade away before he calls the doctor.

“Sorry.” Ayo makes an apologetic face as she slides the needle into Kirsten’s arm. The blonde just shrugs with one shoulder, careful to keep the one being poked still.

“I’m kind of used to it at this point.”

That earns her a smile, the kind shared between people who have seen a lot together. Kirsten considers her a friend, though they’ve never actually socialized outside work.

“So you started feeling sick on Tuesday?”

Kirsten nods.

“I woke up nauseous, couldn’t keep anything down all day. Since then it’s like I’m fine one moment and the next I’m throwing up my saltines.”

The darker skinned girl frowns, her brow drawn thoughtfully.

“Any other symptoms?”

“I’ve been tired,” Kirsten says slowly. “It’s sort of hard to tell at this point if that’s because I’m sick or because I haven’t really eaten in 3 days. And I’ve been having these really vivid dreams, so I’m not sure how much rest I get even when I’m sleeping.”

“Alright.” Ayo finishes drawing blood, twisting the vacuumed vial to seal it, and slides the needle out. “Well, I’ll run some tests back at the lab and get back to you. I’m sure it’s nothing, but we should know for sure before you stitch again even if you’re feeling better.”

So many question marks, Kirsten thinks. For all they know she could be a vegetable by thirty as a side effect of the stitching. It’s not like they really had the time or opportunity to do clinical trials before she came along, and Marta-

She tries not to think about Marta too much.

Kirsten is napping when Ayo calls. Cameron tries to answer it right away, she can tell by the muffled curse followed by a quiet hello?, that drifts in from the hallway after the ringtone wakes her.

She yawns, stretching, and notes that she feels better than she had that morning. Though, by now, she’s learned not to trust that.

“Am I dying?” She asks, blinking as she rounds the corner into the still sunny living room. Cameron jumps a little, and she smirks at him.

“Ah, no.” He says. “I mean, I don’t know.” She raises her eyebrows. “Ayo wants you to come in, she wouldn’t tell me why.”

“Oh.” Kirsten frowns. “That sounds kind of ominous.”

“I’m sure it’s fine.”

He doesn’t sound sure, but he likes to worry, so Kirsten decides to leave him to it.

“Alright, I’ll head over to the lab now.”

By the time she’s dressed and steps back out into the hall he’s waiting for her, keys in hand.

“I can get myself to the lab, Cameron.”

She allows him a certain level of fussing, given that he worries so much, but she’s starting to feel coddled.

“I know you can,” he mutters, shifting his weight onto his back foot. “I just-do you not want me to come?”

“No.” She blinks, and his face goes blank. “I mean, I don’t not want you to come.” She relaxes when he does, the doubt in his eyes fading.

God, it’s still strange to know he cares that much. Sometimes she forgets. Even stranger still, to know how that feels because she reciprocates it. The way she still has nightmares about losing him sometimes, wakes up gasping and pressing her cheek to her chest.

Is it worth it?

Yes. She can answer that in a instant, even when it hurts.

“Um,” Cameron is still watching her, a little hesitant. “So should we-”

“Oh,” she nods. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Cameron fiddles with the radio, and it isn’t until the third station in as many minutes that Kirsten realized just how nervous he is.

“Hey.” She puts a hand on his bicep, and he glances at her. “I’m sure it’s nothing, Cam. After everything we’ve been through I don’t think the flu is going to be what takes me out.”

He tries to smile. It comes out more like a grimace.

When he goes to change the channel again, she swats his hand away.

When Ayo asks Cameron to wait outside, Kirsten is momentarily afraid he’ll actually faint on the spot.

“Why?” He demands immediately. “Is something wrong? Is Kirsten-”

“Cameron.” Ayo sighs patiently. “It’s just policy. I’m still a doctor.”

“I’ll be out in a minute,” Kirsten presses a quick kiss to his cheek. It’s been a few days since they’ve had any real physical contact, she’s been afraid to get him sick. So when she notices that his eyes have darkened, just slightly, and have dropped to her lips, she gets distracted.

“Uh, Kirsten?”

She blinks, looking back at their friend and doctor, who’s wearing a smug smile she hasn’t seen in a while.

“Sorry.”

Ayo just shakes her head, still smirking.

“I’ll have your girl back in no time, alright?” This is addressed to Cameron, who doesn’t look like it’s alright at all, but Ayo ushers Kirsten into the examination room before he has a chance to argue any further.

“So,” Kirsten says bluntly, sitting on the little padded table. “What’s wrong with me?” She can feel the weight of it in the air, has felt unbalanced since she woke up from her nap, as though an invisible guillotine is hanging over her head. She placated Cameron because she didn’t want him to worry, but truth be told, she has a bad feeling she just can’t shake.

“I don’t know that much about your relationship with Cameron,” Ayo says slowly, leaning against the wall with a tablet in her hand. “So I’m not sure if this will come as a shock.”

“My…” Kirsten frowns. What does her relationship with Cameron have to do with it? “I’m not easily shocked these days.”

“I’m sure that’s true.” Ayo smiles at her, and Kirsten scans the expression for any sign of pity or concern, but doesn’t find anything. It comforts her an infinitesimal amount. “Kirsten, you’re pregnant. I ran the blood test three times to be sure, and I checked your other vitals and levels, and it makes sense.”

She pauses, gives Kirsten a chance to react. To reply.

But all she can do is stare.

“Kirsten? Are you alright?”

“I-you-“ Her mind spins, running over dates, thinking back, trying to remember, trying to convert Ayo’s words to something she can understand.

“Okay, so I’m guessing you weren’t trying then.”

“I…” Kirsten says faintly. “No. We’ve only been together a few months, we haven’t even talked about-are you sure?”

“I’m sure. You’re about six weeks along, which…” the other woman looks a little unsure for a moment. “-Gives you options.”

“Options.” Kirsten repeats vacantly. “Like-”

“Whether or not you want to go through with the pregnancy, adoption…The baby-”

For some reason, that one word cuts through all the static in her head when nothing else has.

“The-“ She inhales sharply. “Baby.”

“Yes.” Ayo’s smile makes a reappearance. “They do tend to make an appearance after a pregnancy.”

“Pregnant.” It’s difficult to say anything at all, so she continues to parrot the doctor’s words back at her. “So the nausea-“

“Morning sickness. It tends to be worst in the first trimester for most women. And the fatigue and vivid dreams are common symptoms as well.”

Kirsten looks down at her still flat stomach, staring so hard her head begins to ache, like the bump is hiding there if she just looks harder enough. She hasn’t really though about having children. Certainly not now, when their lives are so dangerous and unpredictable and even her relationship with Cameron is…new.

“I really don’t know if it’s safe to stitch in your condition,” Ayo continues. “I’ll have to talk to Cameron about it, and-“

“Cameron.” Kirsten jumps to her feet so abruptly that Ayo flinches. “I have to tell him.”

“Uh, yes. You probably should.”

“I have to go.” Kirsten murmurs, still half dazed, reaching for the door.

“We should talk about-“

“I can’t,” Kirsten says, without looking back. “I just…I need a minute.” Her emotions are swirling like birds around her head, mixing with fragmented thoughts and static.

“Kirsten.” Cameron half shouts her name, and by the impatience in it, she gets the sense he’s been calling her for a while. They’re sitting in his car, Kirsten refusing to speak in the lab and Cameron refusing to drive home until she tells him what happened.

“Sorry.” She says quietly. Something in her expression is obviously worrying him, though she has no idea what the mixture of feelings and blind panic in he head are manifesting as on her face.

“What’s wro-”

“I’m pregnant.”

It just…comes out. She’s a little afraid to look at him, but in the end curiosity wins out.

He’s just…kind of…frozen. Mouth hanging half open, chest still, eyes huge.

It’s not entirely reassuring.

“Cameron,” she whispers. She’s supposed to be the calm one, but she’s anything but calm, and if he can’t talk her down-

“What.”

It’s a million questions and not a question at all.

“I’m pregnant. I didn’t…I don’t know how…and what am I going to-” Her voice started low, but it’s rising with each word, the panic and shock setting in like a wave of adrenaline. Her chest feels like an elephant is sitting on it, and she struggles to drag in enough air.

And then his hands are on her face, and his touch is steadying, but it’s the clarity in his green, green eyes that brings her back.

“Hey. Breathe, Kirsten.” His voice is soft and familiar and she tries, focusing on that clear green and his obscenely long eyelashes and the faint freckles spattered across his nose.

“God.” She closes her eyes as it passes, exhausted. “I have no idea what I’m going to do. I have no idea how this happened.”

When she opens her eyes again, his expression is wry.

“I have a few ideas.”

Despite the tension of the situation, she smacks his arm.

“And it’s what we are going to do. You’re not in this alone, Stretch. You’ve got me, always.” He looks so sure that she nearly bursts into tears. This whole emotions thing was hard enough before the pregnancy hormones, but she’s slightly mollified to know that she hasn’t been completely unreasonable the past few weeks for no reason.

“A baby, Cameron? I can’t even keep a plant alive! I yelled at my fridge last night for being too loud.” She’ll be a terrible mother. She’ll be clueless and clumsy and something bad will happen.

Her hand splays protectively across her stomach entirely of it’s own accord. The movement isn’t lost on Cameron.

“I think we could figure it out,” he says slowly, eyes still on her hand covering her stomach. “If you-if you wanted to.”

Does she? A year ago she’d have said no. Absolutely not. She had no interest in children.

But now-

Those eyes, she realizes, staring at him. A child with his eyes, and curly blonde hair, and-

Oh. She suddenly wants it with a fierceness that knocks the breath out of her and she realizes, painfully, that Cameron has yet to answer his own question.

“Do you?” She asks. His eyes finally snap back to hers, wide and searching. “It’s so soon, and if I can’t stitch we won’t have jobs and the hours aren’t exactly ideal for kids-”

“Do I- Kirsten.” He says, and it actually hurts the way he says her name, she can feel it down to her bones, toes curling. “I will support you whatever you decide, but I would be ecstatic to have kids with you. Now, five years from now, ten years from now. But you are what I want no matter what.”

“You’re such a dork,” she whispers, fingers combing through his hair. He smiles.

“You’re the one who’s crying.”

Surprised, she lifts the hand on her belly to her face, finding it wet.

“Hormones, I guess,” she says with a sigh. “That’s going to be fun.”

His gaze on her turns sharp.

“Going to be?” He says carefully. “As in-“

“As in, I guess the next seven months are going to be really interesting for both of us.” She smiles tentatively.

“And,” he sounds a little breathless now, “-after that-”

“It probably doesn’t get any less interesting when the kid is actually around,” she murmurs, watching his reaction. For a heartbeat, nothing, then-

A blinding smile.

“We’re gonna have a baby?” It looks as though his face might split in two with the force of his grin, and she can’t help but return it.

“Apparently.”

And then he’s kissing her, as deeply as the centre console and the confined space of the car will allow, and she’s climbing into his lap far more eagerly than is probably appropriate for the very sketchy parking lot, and it isn’t until he groans her name and pulls back that she’s willing to let go.

“This is maybe not the best spot,” he says raggedly. “For…well pretty much anything, but especially that. Drug deals, maybe.”

She laughs, dropping her forehead onto his shoulder.

“Sorry,” she says, lips pressed against his neck. “Hormones.”

When she straightens up to slide back into her own seat, he’s grinning at her, an entirely different glint in his eye.

Her hand pauses on the seatbelt.

“What?” She asks.

He shrugs, turning his eyes forward as he starts the car.

“Just thinking about how interesting the next few months are going to be.”

She chokes on a laugh.

“Oh really? And what makes you so sure I’ll-”

He leans over, just long enough to slide his hand slowly up the inside of her thigh. She gasps, biting her lip. Okay, so the pregnancy hormones might work to his advantage just a little. But as quickly as she can blink, his hands are back on the steering wheel, guiding them home through the L.A. traffic.

He wakes her up at three am, looking slightly frantic, and her heart seizes with fear.

“Wha-”

“I love you. I didn’t say that, I can’t believe I forgot, but I love you. So much it hurts sometimes. You’re amazing, and I love you.”

It’s a lot, for three in the morning, but she places a hand against his jaw and says-

“I love you, Cameron. But if you wake me up for something like this again I’m going to murder you.”

His teeth flash white in the moonlight, and he presses a kiss to her forehead.

“Goodnight, Stretch.”

She settles back against her pillow, eyes falling shut.

“Night, Cameron.”

It’s so faint that the next morning she won’t be sure if she dreamt it, but she’s almost certain that right before she falls back to sleep, she hears him add:

“Goodnight, baby Goodkin.”

[nightsonwhitesaturn]

Nights On White Saturn

 I've been here for at least a thousand years.  I'm a wanderer inside this white-washed dream.  I remember the first time I set foot on the surface of this strange, celestial body.  My memories of space are limited to a singular image of a snow-white planet graced by two icy-blue planetary rings, thin and delicate, sparkling like glass.  Behind it stretched a star-studded galaxy belt.  I don't know why I am here, but I know I am alone and that I seem to dream.  I've walked as many stretches of this world as I can in a thousand years, hoping I might chance upon the answer.  I find myself ruled by a perpetual day time.  I have never seen the night here.  I wonder if there is a moon as rosy as the sun.  I wonder if the sky darkens to deep ocean or burgundy from the shade crisp pale blue it is.  I wonder if I can see the stars.  Sometimes I catch faint glimpses of the rings that encircle this plane where they criss-cross each other and pass over the sun.  They twinkle and cast an odd lavender light that dances like pieces of hanging stained glass.  It always  grips me with wonder and fades out as quickly as it came.  It reminds me that perhaps there may still be an answer here, that I have a purpose, and that I am not doomed to this odd timelessness on this blank slate planet.   I came across a vast library once, all the books white as snow, void of titles, pages pretending to be filled.  It was built as tall as a cathedral, precarious staircases twisting among the many shelves and levels.  Towards the top sat a desk.  Its surface was smooth and sleek like a pure marble.  On it rested a book, open as if were being read.  Beside it rested a pen, just as blank and just as white.  I picked it up and pressed it to the page, dragging its tip along the length of the paper.  Nothing came of it.  It was moments like these where the alien emptiness gripped me, and when I felt almost as if I was put here to be punished.  I never returned to that library.   I never figured out how I had kept track of the days.  I had no knowledge of the night time, so things should have run together from a logical standpoint.  I know that I slept perfectly from one day cycle to the next.  My longing for night continued to swell inside me, until, after a thousand years, I found myself in a rolling field, tickled by ghostly strands of grass.  Something out of the ordinary had captured my attention, diverting my mind from my plight, even if only for a moment.  It sparkled like a glassy jewel from the corner of my eye.  I walked a great distance through that field to find the gleam.  In the odd silence of the gentle breeze, I finally came across a flower.  Its petals were crisp and pallid, so very much like the bleached world around me.  It released such a subtle scent like paper and lilies.  I stopped to pluck it from the ground, and the flower disintegrated in my fingers into a fine chalkiness.  I was startled and felt a distant ringing in my ears as my vision fogged with white noise.  Everything faded out to a sharp glare and dissolved.  When I awoke, I felt such a heaviness on my eyes.  I blinked, but it would not leave me.  I had not experienced night's obscurity since my faint recollections of the universe.  A few blades of grass nodded across my vision.  I was indeed awake.  I sat upright and looked around.  It was as if someone had washed the sky with ink and dimmed the brightness I was so accustomed to.  Complex shadows sprawled themselves around me.  I glanced back up into that thick velvet and saw stars which twinkled faintly in a dusty band across the firmament.  I spied the faint blue lines of the rings that I knew were there.  They shimmered like spider silk.  I was surprised to find a rose-gold moon above me.  It cast such an ethereal glow, hanging on display with delicately defined features.  I nestled myself back into the grass, studying these heavens I hadn't had a chance to see.   It was here where I realized my search for answers may finally begin its journey to an end.  I gave a stray and distant thought to a thousand more years spent here in the night.  I felt bold enough to mock irony, but I knew better.  It had been clear that this unfolding of events was not up to me, nor were portions of my fate.  The cosmos had placed me here, and waited patiently for me to find out why.  Yet a thousand years of learned patience almost seemed meaningless in the face of a thousand more.  I simply wanted to sleep it all, but I knew that answers were not easy and didn't come willingly.  I continued to study the night sky, and I knew in a thousand more years time, I would know every star there was up there.   I ended up knowing every star by its position in the sky and how many there were, even in the densest clusters.  I felt like the universe might be laughing at me for how I filled my time, as I still sought my answers.  Two-thousand years had passed, and I felt like I was no wiser or closer than before, a thousand years familiar with both day and night, and at a loss for their meanings.  I passed by the library from ages ago, still standing like a somber white titan.  I knew my curiosity would not be satisfied by its hidden knowledge.  Or perhaps it contained none at all.  I had questioned the obstacles of this world many times, but could never summarize a conclusion.  The conclusion, I knew, would come with the end of my journey.  Was I any closer?   Near the library, I found an ocean where once had been a long and open valley.  The water was dark like the sky, but I could see the sugary sands beneath the clear, smoke-colored waves.  I waded out into it, finding that it never surpassed my waist no matter where I walked.  I decided to traverse the ocean for as far as it stretched.  I know I ventured miles and miles, still finding no end.  There were times I would sleep during the day and wake, floating peacefully beneath the moon and stars.  I might have walked that ocean for a hundred years.  I could see my footprints embedded behind me, carved out by my steps under the gentle waves.  They never eroded.  Finally, on the eve of two-thousand years, I came to a small island in what I supposed was the center of this vast sea.  A lone, skeleton-white tree stood on it, slender and ashy with long, spindly leaves that grew in fans around its crown.  I pulled myself from the ocean, a great sigh escaping me, the tired breath of two millennia curling into the atmosphere as a ghostly wisp.  I sat at the base of the tree and threw my eyes up towards the heavens, counting the stars like I had done so many times before.   I was an old soul and nothing more.  This world, I knew, was mine, but I did not feel as if I belonged here.   I could feel a hotness around the base of my eyes.  I had never shed a tear, not in two-thousand years.  I was unfamiliar with the experience, but the sensation felt right.  I saw the stars blur together.  I didn't care where they were, how many there were, only they they just were.  They had watched me, knew what I wanted, and they could tell me where to look, but that was not the way of the cosmos.  I knew I was starting to give up.  The fabric of this universe was so worn to me.  I wanted to hope that what I wanted was here, but bitter cynicism said that being only one step closer once every thousand years was simply a cruel joke to my stagnant existence.  I had always imagined that purgatory was a blank place, waiting to be painted by ones own decisions, but if this was purgatory, it resisted my attempts.  I couldn't have the privilege of knowing which world I truly resided in.  I was not meant to dispel this endless dream.   I sat under that tree for a century, still a slave to these nights.  I couldn't stop myself from sleeping and waking when the universe wanted me to, so I remained there, and I let it win.  I would cry every night, and my tears wore deep scars on my face.  They did not pain me, but rather sapped feeling from me.  I welcomed it.  A century of this torment was enough so that one night, I gazed up at my familiars, at the stars, the moon, the delicate rings, and I wiped my eyes and offered up my tears.  They dripped upwards from my fingers, catching tiny shards of starlight.  A star shot across the night and its light touched upon an unfamiliar shape in the vastness.  It was black as the void and lined lightly in a thin strand of silver.  As the glow from the star receded, the shape faded back into the murk.  Another star flew over it, my eyes still trained heavily on the place I had seen it.  It was indeed there, whatever it was, and it wasn't very far away.  Stars continued to blaze across the expanse above me until a torrent of them showered my surroundings, and I became encompassed in fallen stardust.  The sky had been emptied of stars and all that was left to break the gloom were the two faint rings, the grinning, gentle moon, and the anomaly I had not known was there for a full two-thousand years.  I could see it clearly now.  My tears had stopped, and my mind was racing to piece this puzzle together.  The ocean around me had grown, and it tossed its waters with such a new found agitation.  Its waves splashed against me.  I climbed my way into the tree that had felt part of me for such a long time.  The ocean swallowed the island as I ascended and settled around the trunk of the tree.  Specks of stardust hovered above miles and miles of ocean for as far as I could see.   I turned back towards the sky, to the inky, silver-lined shadow.  Something about it emanated familiarity, like it was a vital piece of me.  I stared longingly at it through the night until I could not fight sleep once more.  When next I woke, the stardust had vanished, the ocean was black as the sky, and the sands had vanished.  The waters had stilled and were smooth as glass, perfectly reflecting the black vault above me.  I rested in the boughs at the top of the tree.  The shape was still there, but it seemed to glow just a little brighter.  Two faint blue lines criss-crossed it, not unlike the ones in this realm.  It was almost like a mirror planet floated in the emptiness.  Was this my answer?   Something bright and fiery swelled from the celestial body and ripped its way towards me, gathering speed as it came, casting an eeriness all around me.  It came like an atomic arrow and lodged itself in the outlying glassiness.  I felt such a surge of excitement and leapt from the branches.  My feet hit the water, now only ankle deep, the surface beneath it hard and polished like obsidian.  I ran, following the cracks from the impact, as hard and fast as I could.  I ran for miles and miles.  Something about this screamed my salvation, my exit from myself.  If my bones could break and my muscles tear, my being would have shattered, but I was a comet in the void, and I burned my own trail coolly into the black waste, unafraid, unyielding, more determined that ever to tempt the cosmos and gamble with the devils of my fate.   And there, in the center of a spider web of fractured ocean, I found that I was no longer alone.  My wearied soul could finally rest and release from this madly incessant dream on this unwritten planet in an erratic universe.  And if not to wake, then to finally paint it with every dripping shadow and shade and hue that you came arrayed in.  I had never envisioned the moment that would be...     ...you.

[paintingraves]

Fire of devotion

Summary : Graves is Grindelwald’s soulmate. No one is happy to hear it. 

Percival has always concealed his soul mark.

Many people did. Out of shame, out of a need for privacy, or simply because the space where the name was carved onto your skin was too visible.

For Graves it was a combination of all three. Graves’ mark appeared late, when he was starting his duties as a Senior Auror. Like many before him, he’d spent a night in agonizing pain as his own magic connected with the other person meant for him, searching them throughout the world and carving, burning, searing each letter onto him until Graves couldn’t breathe.

He passed out. When he woke up, Graves stumbled his way to the mirror in his bathroom and stared, for a long time, at the white scars starting at the hollow of his neck, just above his collarbone and stretching all the way up to his Adam’s apple.

It was a man. Graves felt neither hot nor cold with the revelation, having already come to terms with the fact that he liked both men and women, though he never spoke about the first inclination.  

But he paled as he read who it was. It couldn’t be. There had to be a mistake. It couldn’t be.

Frantically, Graves summoned his wand to him, hand shaking as he dug the tip into his own skin, murmuring the strongest Glamour charm he could think of. Before his eyes, the mark faded and Graves’ skin was a blank canvas once again, the panic receding. Graves could almost believe he’d imagined it but for the name dancing behind his eyes, a reputation that had already reached the MACUSA.

His soulmate was a dark wizard.

-

Percival took to renewing the glamour charm every couple of hours, and worked on creating a stronger one. With time, he became even colder and harsher, working his subordinates to the bones and making his way up the ranks until he ended up as Head Auror and then Director Of Magical Security. He felt detached from reality as the President handed him his medal and his eyes swept over the room, settling on each face, the thunder of their applause loud in his ears. He swore to protect them, and he would do so even with broken knees and blood on his face, baring his teeth at the enemy.

And he did. He took his duty to heart, barking orders with one single goal in mind - protect. His country, his people, his government. His President.

Seraphina stood next to him, head held up high as they both watched the President’s portrait in the great hall of the MACUSA shimmer and fade to reveal her own face in the face of her victory in the elections.

“Congratulations,” Graves said. “There you are.”

“There we are,” Seraphina murmured. “Until we die.”

“Until we die,” Graves agreed.

-

In 1925, when whispers of Grindelwald’s heinous crimes spread to America, Graves felt himself slip further into the shadows. He bared his throat to the mirror, trying to scratch the name off of his skin and only leaving red marks upon the white scar. Nothing changed. The dark wizard was getting closer, and Graves had to do everything in his power to stop him.

-

It took nothing.

The panic of battle, the fear and denial at seeing another one of his Aurors die as Graves desperately screamed at them to hang on just a little longer, the smooth glide of his own scarf against the nape of his neck as Graves took it off to press the fine fabric against the wound in an effort to stop the blood flow. His hands were tinted red, Brien’s eyelashes fluttering and closing, his hand falling alongside his body, fingers curling in death. His chest still beneath Graves’ hands.

It took nothing.

A trip to the MACUSA to put the criminals in jail, a trip to the hospital to make sure the rest of his Aurors were safe and the injured taken care of -

And Tina’s widening eyes as she looked at his neck, where Graves had forgotten to renew his Glamour. Graves paced the waiting room at the hospital, waiting for news on the state of Katherine after the raid and failed to see Tina hurry to the bathroom, failed to see the Patronus light as Tina quickly sent a message to the President, failed to hear the whispered, “Mr. Graves’ soulmark is Gellert Grindelwald,” as Tina did what she felt was right.

What he didn’t miss was the group of Aurors making their way towards him in the middle of the hospital and gripping him, hard, by the shoulders, taking his wand away and cuffing him with magically enchanted restraints.

“What is the meaning of this?!” He asked, trying to sound calm and composed even though his mind was still reeling with everything that happened to him in the past hours.

Nobody answered him as they led him away, pushing hard and making him stumble on his feet as if he were a low life criminal. Graves locked his jaw, straightened his shoulders, fire in his eyes as he demanded to know what was going on.

They apparated. When Graves’ head stopped spinning he realized they were inside the MACUSA, making their way to the President’s office - or rather, the official interrogation room set up right next to it.

They pushed Graves inside and forced him to sit down on the heavily warded chair, ropes wrapping around his ankles and arms as he did so. Seraphina stared at him across the table, her gaze hard and unforgiving and with a start Graves realized that she wasn’t looking at him - but down at his neck. His heart stopped.

Fuck. The glamour. How could he forget …?

“Madam President, I -”

“Silence,” she said. “Get me the veritaserum and our legilimens,” she ordered to one of the Aurors, who nodded and hurried away. ““I strongly hope you’ve got a good explanation for this, Percival.”

“I didn’t choose,” Percival said. “You know how soulmarks work. I didn’t have a choice. I don’t want this.”

Seraphina sighed. “We have no way to know if you’re on his side or not. You could have been meeting him for years. You could have been giving him insight inside the MACUSA. If you have been in contact with him, he has everything he needs to destroy the MACUSA from the inside. Why should I believe anything you say?”

“Because you know me, Seraphina,” Graves said disbelievingly. “I tried everything to get rid of the mark, but I can’t. I never met him, nor do I want to. He’s a criminal -”

“He’s your soulmate,” Seraphina insisted.

“He’s a criminal,” Graves repeated, louder, “A dark wizard who thinks murdering muggles is fun in the name of his fucked up ideals and I am not his. I never have been, and I never will be.”

And if his body and soul ached at the thought, then so be it.

-

The Veritaserum gave them nothing. The legilimens peered inside him, but Graves shied away from her the darkest thoughts he had and let her see all the rest. His loyalty to the MACUSA, his desire to protect, overriding everything else, and his disgust and shame towards the name etched onto his skin.

Gellert Grindelwald.

No, Graves thought. No.

After hours of interrogation, Seraphina looked at him with something akin to pity and ordered tiredly, “Take him to the cells.”

“What?” Graves said, head snapping up to meet her gaze even as he leaned forward in his chair, ignoring how the magical binds tightened around him. “You have all the proof you need. I never met him, I don’t want anything to do with him, I am the same as I always have been!”

“Percival, I have no doubts that he knows you’re there, and that he could come for you. We can’t let that happen, it is too much of a threat.”

“I would fight him.”

“You wouldn’t. When I met Oliver, the world aligned itself and nothing could have pulled me away from this man. Nothing. You don’t understand, Percival - hating your soulmate is impossible. Because as soon as you meet him, you will love him, no matter what he’s done in the past. I believe he’s kept away from you because he must be afraid of having such feelings what with his... ambitions, but one day he will come to America, and when he does I fear his curiosity will be too great. He will come for you.”

“Then what do you intend to do?” Percival laughed. “Keep me locked in a cell just in case Grindelwald decides to visit?”  

Her silence is answer enough, and Graves sagged against the back of the chair. “But - you need me!”

“Take him to the cells,” Seraphina repeated, steeling herself. Graves felt hands on his shoulders, hoisting him up and away, and he twisted and struggled against them to keep his gaze locked with Seraphina’s.

“You need me! I gave my life to this institution and to the protection of the United States! I’m not a traitor, I never will be!”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Percival Graves,” Seraphina said, eyes moist. “You... just went away on a trying mission and in two weeks you will have resigned from office, in the face of the upcoming war.”

“They’ll never believe you!” Graves spat, expression twisted in the face of such betrayal. As much as he can understand her reasoning, she can’t just let him rot away, locked up until the end of the war. He will go mad.

“No one really knows you, Percival,” she said. “You never let anyone close. They will wonder, but eventually they will believe.”

“Fuck you,” Graves said, desperate. “You can’t do that, I have rights!”

There’s silence, and then the President said, “Cells. Bed, enchanted window, sink, toilets, water and food three times a day. Good bye, Percival - I’ll keep you informed on the situation.”

The Aurors finally Imperio him away from the room and down the corridors until they reach the lowest level of the MACUSA, deep underground, and Graves can already feel himself suffocate.

-

For the next six months, that’s where he stays.

Seraphina comes to give him updates and ask for his help on various matters at hand, as if there weren’t prison bars between them, as if they were still seated in her office peering together over paperwork and a map of Grindelwald’s progress in Europe.

“He’s getting closer,” she murmured, drawing his attention away from the book he’s already read a hundred times. His index finger ceases its relentless tapping against the hard edge of the book, and Graves looks at her, tucking a strand of hair behind his hair. It has grown longer.

“Is he now?”

“The new Director of Security is good, but he’s not you.”

“Ah,” Graves said, steepling his hands under his chin. “Does that mean you’re letting me out, then? Cease this ridiculous thing and let me have a fucking life?”

Her answer never changed. “No. It is more important than ever now that you stay here. We need to protect you”

Graves snorted. Bullshit. As if they cared about him.

When Seraphina spoke again Graves ignored her until she eventually gave up, the sound of her heels clicking on the floor as she walked away.

Maybe she is right to be worried, Graves thought.

He could feel it. A light in his chest, hope, burning brighter with each passing day as his soulmate came closer to where he was.

And Graves waited.

-

He woke up in the middle of the night to a pair of mismatched eyes staring back at him in the darkness of his cell, yet weirdly enough his heart didn’t jump with fright.

Instead, Graves smiled and sat up lazily on the bed as Grindelwald evaluated him. Stupidly, Graves wished he could look the way he did a few months prior - clean and sharp and powerful, instead of wearing a simple shirt and pants, stubble on his jaw and too long hair falling on his face.

“Well, aren’t you a pretty thing,” Grindelwald said softly, surprising him, and Graves’ smile widened despite himself. “Hello.”

“Hello,” Graves whispered back, tentatively reaching a hand out to touch Grindelwald’s face. “Took you long enough.”

He is in the same room as his soulmate for the first time in his life.

He never thought it would feel like this - this utter joy and righteousness bubbling inside him, threatening to overwhelm him. Grindelwald put his own hand over Graves’, turning his head slightly to kiss Graves’ palm and Graves’ breath hitched in his throat.

“My apologies,” Grindelwald said, voice low and mirth in his eyes. “I was busy changing the world. Come on, love. Get up. It’s time you leave this place.”

[darlingpetao3]

Troubled Waters (Barry Allen x Reader)

Rating: G

Summary: After the Particle Accelerator exploded, many unsuspecting people began to show various and odd abilities. Following a vicious attack while night-surfing on that fateful day, you, the Reader, became one of those people. Thankfully, the brilliant minds at S.T.A.R. Labs (and the gorgeous Barry Allen) are willing to help you find your way and shield you from an intimidating organization.

'Come to S.T.A.R. Labs,' they said. 'It'll be fun,' they said.

You hadn't known what to expect when Doctor Harrison Wells contacted you out of the blue one day regarding your incident almost ten months ago. But since there were these strange people stalking you around every corner, you were relieved to have somewhere to hide out. Although, being here in the labs, with three pairs of scientific eyes on you, you feel like an odd specimen. And though the members of S.T.A.R. Labs seemed to have gotten the gist of your current situation, they were still very intrigued to know the full details of your story. To know about your very special ability...

“So let me get this straight,” Cisco Ramon, mechanical engineer, starts. You can sense the judgement in his voice. “You were surfing at night when the Particle Accelerator exploded? In December?” Just then, a breathtaking guy strides into the room. He's tall, has perfect hair, and a face like an artist had sculpted it.

“Who's night surfing in December?” he asks. “That sounds fun.” He actually sounds genuine about it. People usually think you're crazy for doing it. You almost forget to talk because he's so distracting to look at.

“That would be me. And, yes, Mr. Ramon” you say, crossing your arms defensively. “Believe it or not, December is a really good time to surf. The weather gets stormy and stirs up some nice waves. And I do it at night because it's peaceful and you get to see the city all lit up.”

“Okay, I guess that makes sense. And please, call me Cisco. Mr. Ramon is my father. And I only let Doctor Wells call me that because he's already set in his ways.” You make a mental note. But back to the handsome fellow... Wells sees you’re distracted with Barry and makes the introductions.

“Barry Allen, meet (Y/N). Our new case study and friend.” Barry's face lights up in recognition.

“I've heard that name before,” he says, shaking your hand. Then it hits him. “You're Shark Girl! Sorry, I mean, that was the name the paper gave you.” He scratches the back of his neck, looking suddenly very embarrassed. Ah yes, the paper. When CCPN interviewed you about the attack, you didn't know they would give you a horrible nickname that would, unfortunately, catch on.

“The paper didn't cite everything I told them. Let me tell you the full story.”

You launch into the tale of your fateful incident, explaining that with this past winter being warmer than previous years, it was a perfect night to surf. You grabbed your wetsuit, board, and left to catch some late-evening waves thanks to the wind. You loved the quietness of the waterfront when no one was there. That, and the way the lampposts along the walkway and the lights of the city illuminated the waters.

At one point, though, things took a turn.

First, it started to rain. Which was strange, because the weather hadn't called for it.

Something brushed your feet underneath the water. That's too big to be a fish... you had thought. It brushed against you again. You saw a fin pop out of the water and before you had time to panic about the creature, an enormous, bright beam of light exploded from the other side of town. You sat in the water, momentarily transfixed at the sight. The light seemed to create a ripple effect, knocking out all sources of power, leaving the entire city dark.

Except for the erratic lightning flashing in the sky.

A surprise force pulled you off your board and you struggled to keep your head above water. Something had your leg in its mouth. You couldn't see, it was so dark. You were freaking out and screaming for help while accidentally swallowing water. The last thing you saw was a blinding light and the last thing you felt was electrocution...

You met the young couple that saved you from drowning in your hospital room after you finally woke up sometime following that night. They had heard your cries from the water and came running through the dark and sandy shoreline. Central City Picture News made them out as heroes, which they were, but ended up portraying you as the irresponsible dummy. And that is precisely why you don't read the newspaper anymore.

The doctor had disclosed to you that you were unconscious for an abnormal amount of time, plus he had to operate on your leg to extract multiple shark's teeth. Oh God. Thank goodness you were unconscious for all that.

But hey, free shark tooth necklace?

“In your email reply, you mentioned something about 'personal transformational issues.'” Caitlin Snow, bio-engineer, says. “Do you mean to say you have special abilities? Because after what we've seen recently, it wouldn't be abnormal.”

“I suppose you could say that. It all started happening maybe a month ago?” you offer.

“The approximate date does line up with the majority of other appearances of meta-humans in the city,” Wells confirms.

“Wait, what kind of abilities do you have?” asks Barry. Oh no, you don't want to tell him! It's so embarrassing and bizarre. You know you're just going to scare him away.

Maybe even literally.

“I can...” you mumble the rest of your words.

“I'm sorry, I didn't catch that. You can what?”

“I can turn into a shark.” There. The truth is out. Does Barry look... impressed?

“Narly,” Cisco says, biting into a piece of liquorice.

“Wow. That must be a real experience,” Barry muses. “Can you transform on command?”

“No, it doesn't seem to work that way,” you explain. Your head suddenly feels funny. You start feeling woozy and lightheaded, so you stumble, but Barry is extraordinarily quick to catch you.

“Whoa!” His hands grab your waist while yours hang onto his strong shoulders.

“What's wrong?” Caitlin asks, concerned. “What are you feeling right now?” Your head wobbles around and you tell her you need to get to freshwater and fast.

“But I seriously doubt you have a pool of freshwater in this place,” you say weakly.

“Not a pool, but we have a freshwater fish tank down in the lower levels!” Cisco pipes up. “This is gonna be so cool. And you'll be needing a new name for sure. 'Shark Girl' is just so, ugh!” Barry, Caitlin, and Wells give Cisco various dude, there's a time and a place looks.

“Please excuse Mr. Ramon,” Wells says as he turns around in his motorized chair. “If you'll just follow us. Mr. Allen, please help the poor girl.”

“Look at her go.”

“It's fascinating, really.”

“The fact that she needs to re-oxygenate her blood every so often is quite astounding.”

You can hear their distorted voices through the giant freshwater tank that you swim laps around. It feels so good to be back in the water. You can think so much clearer now. You notice Barry is following you around with his eyes while you're in your horrid shark form. You'll never have a chance with him now that he's seen you this in this state.

After you spend an adequate amount of time in the tank, you towel off and prepare to face the comments of your spectators. Your shark form is slowly receding upon being acclimatized once again to the air in the room. Caitlin, Cisco, and Wells confer with each other in a little brainiac huddle. Barry is the one that approaches you at the steps to the tank as you towel dry your hair. You bring the towel in front of your face to hide from him.

“Don't look at me,” you tell him.

“Why would you say that?”

“Because. In there. I was a monster, I was hideous.”

“(Y/N), listen, I don't know what kind of shark attacked you during the explosion, but I’m pretty sure it was a cute shark.”

Oh my god.

“I mean,” he continues, face growing pink, “most sharks are pretty scary looking, right? But there are cute ones out there too, and it would make sense it had to be one of those cute ones that... I'm just gonna stop talking now.”

“Barry, are you calling me cute?” you tease. Before the either of you can say anything else, the rest of the team comes over.

“Do you transform whenever you come in contact with water?” Caitlin inquires, pen and clipboard in hand.

“Like Gremlins...” says Cisco. You point a finger at him.

“Don't even think about nicknaming me 'Gremlin,'” you joke.

He puts his hands up in surrender. “How about 'Madam Shark'?”

You think about it. It's not bad. You go back to answering Caitlin's question. “Only when I come in contact with freshwater specifically, like down where I used to surf.”

At once, all of your heads turn at a clanking sound echoing from the hallways, growing closer. Men in heavy-duty black uniforms burst through the door. It's them. The people who have been following you around, lurking when they don’t think you’ve noticed. They have guns! Duck and cover!

A stone-faced woman walks in after them, in total command of the room. Frankly, she frightens you more than the big men with guns.

“Harrison,” she addresses Wells. “We understand you're harbouring a dangerous, what are they being called again? Meta-humans?”

“Ms. Waller,” he replies professionally. He steers his motorized chair in her direction. “We can assure you and the rest of A.R.G.U.S. that our friend here would cause no harm to anyone.”

“Tell that to hundreds of wounded citizens this city has acquired thanks to these corrupt meta-humans.”

“Not all the meta-humans are corrupt,” Barry says with annoyance in his voice. “Or have you forgot about the Flash?” This Waller woman ignores him and carries on.

“We're taking her in.” You stiffen. Where are they taking you? Who are these A.R.G.U.S. people and what will they do to you?

“Like hell, you are,” Barry says daringly while moving in front of you. You peek out over his shoulder that’s blocking your view. He makes you feel safe and yet you hardly know him. “We know about your organization's questionable methods for bringing peace. For all we know, you'll use her as some sort of human weapon.”

Yikes.

Wells cuts in again. “Amanda, why don't we discuss this elsewhere.” You’re fairly certain he gives Waller scary dagger-eyes as he rolls past her, signalling to follow him. Surprisingly enough, she does. There's something funny about Doctor Wells, but you can't place it.

Barry turns around to you and places his hands on either side of your arms, a comforting action.

“Don't worry. We won't let them take you. I won't let them take you.” The conviction in his words makes you believe him with all your heart.

“Why would you risk your life for me?”

“Because,” he takes a breath. “I know what you're going through.”

“How could you possibly...?” Wells rolls back in the room as the armed A.R.G.U.S. men begin to file out of the room. He wears a winning smirk and jokingly dusts off his hands as if to mean good riddance. “We won't be seeing them anytime soon.” Barry smiles in relief.

“I don't know how I'm going to keep living like this,” you murmur, motioning to yourself. He takes your hands and looks deep in your eyes.

“You'll have me. I will help you through this.”

In this moment you seem to know two things:

You could tell this guy brings trouble wherever he goes.

And you are falling hard for him.

~

Anonymous Request: Can you do a Barry imagine where on the night of the particle accelerator explosion the reader was surfing. But was attacked by a shark so now she has the ability to turn into a shark. The team finds out and wants to help. When that all meet she tells them about what happened and how she got her powers which is kind of shocking for them and she shows them her abilities and barry helps her deal with it and they grow close and fall in love. Sorry if this is weird.

A/N: I tried my best, Anon! I may not have gotten the full ‘fall in love’ part, but boy if they aren’t growing close! ;)

[tokyotheglaive]

my buddy my pal. i'm sorry to bug you but i'm having a v difficult night and i understand you're looking for prompts. can i trouble you for a robot fluff if you've got it in you? as many or few children as you'd like to include. just something fluffy. thanks

@cosleia who requested Kipper at the beach ages and ages ago. At the time I couldn’t come up with anything that wasn’t the absolute angstiest of the angst, but this did the trick.)

“So,” Nico said, sipping something violently pink as he leaned against the wooden railing.

So. A loaded word. Matt watched him out of the corner of his eye, fighting the instinct to shy away. Nico was standing too close, and it was hot in the heat of the sun. Ahead of the pair of them, the beach extended out to the ocean, where good-sized waves rolled and swayed. Matt might have thought they indicated a storm if the sky hadn’t been perfectly clear. Their beach day was safe from inclement weather.

He could see Kipper down by the shore, dancing and swinging his arms merrily in the spray. He’d gone in much deeper earlier, and Linus had nearly thrown himself into the water after him, terrified that he’d drown.

Matt could see Linus, too, lounging under a beach umbrella, slathered with sunscreen and miserable in the heat. Getting Linus to come with them had been no small miracle, one of those things that only Kipper could rightly pull off. Try though Linus did to put on a sour face, in these moments when he thought no one was looking, he seemed relaxed, even happy. Matt hadn’t seen him this pleased or loose-limbed in quite some time.

Nico was waiting for him. Matt was stalling.

“So,” he said finally.

Nico took another long sip of his drink. Matt didn’t think it was alcoholic, but then again, maybe it was. It was certainly sweet. Matt could smell the sugar almost as clearly as he could hear the clink of the ice.

“Have you ever been to the beach before?” Nico asked.

Matt frowned as he looked back to the shoreline. There was Kipper. Matt was worried to look away from him. For some reason, Nico seemed to be deliberately not looking, and that was all the more worrisome.

“Yeah,” Matt said. “Years ago. We’d come down in the spring.”

Nico nodded and said, “Water’s cold then.”

“Yeah,” Matt said again. “It was. Everything’d be closed and you’d get those odd squalls but we swam anyway.” He pushed back from the railing, intending to escape wherever this conversation was going. He’d go to Linus—he should have stayed with Linus, but Linus had told him to quit bothering him and go for a walk, and he had even though he’d known that it was Linus’ attempt to keep Matt from sticking by his side for the duration of the trip. He was always worried Matt would feel obligated to stay, as if he would suddenly stop wanting to.

“Matt,” Nico said, voice stern. “I need to talk to you.”

Damn. There went his escape plan.

“Yeah?” Matt asked.

Nico shifted his weight, his joints creaking. Matt instinctively glanced around them, but no one paid them the slightest bit of attention. That was the beauty of a crowd; no one looked too hard, and no one asked any questions. The most attention they’d got was from a six-year-old kid who’d fallen in love with Kipper’s hair shortly after they arrived. Kipper had played with the kid for over an hour before the child’s parents decided it was time for ice cream, and perhaps another drink.

“It’s about Kipper.”

Linus wasn’t looking for Matt. He wasn’t. Matt had gone for a walk, just like Linus had asked him to do. He was going for a walk, and then he was going to come back.

Linus sank his toes into the sand and breathed deeply. He—he didn’t believe what he was thinking, but he did, and wasn’t that strange? He felt good. Matt could not come back—there was the possibility—but was it really a possibility? Would he really just leave? Linus wasn’t worth coming back to, but would that be enough to keep Matt away?

He wanted to laugh, or maybe get himself checked out for sunstroke. Instead, he continued to lay under the umbrella, lazily scanning the beach. He could see Kipper, which helped, and Kipper looked happy, which helped more. After the incident earlier where Kipper nearly drowned, Linus insisted he stay closer to the shore, and Kipper seemed to agree. Linus liked when things went his way. For a day he hadn’t planned on having, today was working out remarkably in his favor.

He sipped at his water bottle—brought from home, packed by Matt before Linus even had to ask—and lay his head back. It was blessedly warm, even under the umbrella, and while no part of him stuck out, he imagined he could feel the sun on him, warming him from the inside out. He didn’t know how he’d write about this on his blog—his few followers might think that he’d gotten himself a ghostwriter.

Let them, he thought. He was having a good day. When was the last time that had happened by itself, without Matt to orchestrate it?

(Or Kipper, he admitted. Kipper was oddly good at that, and getting better every day.)

The crash of the waves against the beach lulled him, and against all odds, Linus thought he might fall asleep. He fought it, if only because he wanted to be awake when Matt returned, or if Kipper ventured farther into the water than was safe for his level of swimming expertise.

Maybe Linus could teach him. It had been years, but something was better than nothing, right? Linus could teach him how to float, at least. Humans were good at that sort of thing, and he vaguely remembered something about not being able to unlearn things like that. Maybe that was just bicycles, but Linus had never learned how to ride one in the first place.

Crash and recede, crash and recede… The sea drew itself up and forward and back in a constant cycle, and Linus’ thoughts were rising and falling to match it. Don’t sleep, sleep, don’t sleep, sleep…

A curse followed by a thud startled him, and Linus’ eyes swept open. Matt now sat beside him, a scowl on his face as he glanced over his shoulder to the boardwalk.

“What happened?” Linus demanded, good mood evaporating.

Matt’s gaze snapped to him, and his scowl softened until it disappeared entirely.

“Nicholas Finch,” Matt said, straightening out a towel so he could lay beside Linus, “is a dick.”

Linus could only stare. Matt, calling someone…?

“I told him,” Matt said, “I told him, he’s got to stop fixating on this, but he’s had one too many I guess and he just wouldn’t stop.”

“What did he do?” Linus asked, shaking with fear and rage and what had Nicholas said to Matt to make him this upset?

“He’s afraid for Kipper,” Matt said, running a hand through his hair. “He thinks that he’s not good for him, that he’s going to do damage. He asked if we’d look after Kipper when he’s gone.”

Linus could only stare for a moment. The reaction that belatedly followed was hardly appropriate: he began to laugh.

“What?” Matt asked.

“I thought,” Linus spluttered, “I thought—he didn’t—”

Matt looked horribly confused, and if Linus could stop laughing, he’d be able to explain. Slowly, he began to pull himself together.

“Are you feeling all right?” Matt asked, reaching out. He stopped short, and Linus took his hand.

“Wonderful. Superlative,” Linus said. “This was a great idea.”

“I’ll tell Kipper,” Matt said uncertainly.

“I’ll tell him myself. I’m just glad, that’s all.” Matt was clearly waiting for an explanation, and Linus took in a deep breath to displace the rest of the laughter from his lungs. “I thought he was hitting on you,” Linus said. “I thought you were going to tell me that he didn’t take no for an answer.”

Matt’s eyes were wide as saucers. “He—no, no, not at all,” he said. Linus watched as Matt moved closer so that they were hip to hip and shoulder to shoulder. Linus nudged him to tell him it was okay.

“What did you tell him?” Linus asked.

“Hm?”

“About Kipper,” Linus said.

“I told him he was being an ass,” Matt said.

“Those exact words?”

“No, but under no uncertain terms.”

Linus exhaled.

“I know how he feels,” he said.

“You—what?”

Linus frowned and sat up. “I feel like I’m using you, half the time,” he said. “You—you came back. You always come back.”

“Of course. I love you,” Matt said. “You come back to the people you love.”

“I knew you’d come back today,” Linus admitted, “and I thought—I thought maybe that was bad.”

“That I’d come back?” Matt asked, voice neutral—careful, Linus thought. Matt was always so careful.

“No, that I expected you to,” Linus said. “I felt good in the certainty that you would but I was afraid that meant that I’d finally finished the act—tricking you and tricking myself.”

“You haven’t tricked anyone,” Matt said. “I love you as you, in spite of nothing and because of everything. You are…” he looked up and down, then said, “you are perfect to me.”

Linus smiled.

“Kipper would say the same about Nicholas, don’t you think?” he said. Matt didn’t respond. Kipper was making his way up the beach, now, looking for their umbrella. He had a bunch of shells in his arms and sand all over his legs and he looked fit to combust with joy. “Is that love, or have we programmed you to give us that response?”

“No,” Matt said. “You haven’t.”

Linus shrugged. “There’s no way for us to know,” he said, “Nicholas and I. We’re damaged people with perfect partners. It doesn’t seem real.”

“You’re not damaged.”

Linus frowned. Kipper was drawing closer.

“Nicholas is, though,” he murmured. Matt squeezed his hand.

“I’m not going to let him run away from Kipper, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Matt said.

“I’m not,” Linus replied. “Kipper’s far more possessive than I am. He’d follow Nicholas to the ends of the earth of that’s what it took.”

Matt squeezed back, unable to say anything else as Kipper drew up, eyes bright.

“Look!” he squealed, just a little too loud. “They’re all so pretty!”

[that-is-vexing]

Wrote yet another thing.

He was twirled, whirled, and whipped around. He bounced, jumped, leapt. He jigged, tapped, stomped. He laughed and sang and laughed again.

Q-Branch was having a party. He couldn’t remember the occasion; something to do with him. But once it had been discovered that he liked to dance, someone had hurried to put on some music, and now they were all having the time of their lives.

He danced as freely as he did at home; he had no shame. He knew he looked ridiculous, and he didn’t care. He was dancing with Eve, and they were flirting with their bodies; friend-flirts, fun-flirts. There was no real passion behind it. It was just fun. He was… happy. For the first time in months, he was happy.

~~~\0/~~~

Of course he woke up on the sofa in his office with a hangover the size of the continent of Africa. He couldn’t even move, paralyzed with pain. Someone moaned softly—him.

“Here,” croaked a familiar voice, and a glass of water with a straw in it was thrust roughly in his face. “You shouldn’t’ve taken those pills.”

Even the act of suction hurt, but he bravely pressed on until a wash of cool liquid filled his mouth, and when he swallowed it slid down his throat soothingly. “What’d I take?” he rasped, when he’d emptied half the glass.

Eve set the glass on the floor. She was sitting on the floor, too, leaning heavily against the sofa and looking rather the worse for wear. “Like hell if I know,” she answered tiredly. “All I know is that your dancing improved significantly.”

Q smiled faintly. “I’m always better when I don’t care.”

“You’re telling me.”

They sat in companionable silence for a while, until Q’s headache receded enough for him to roll on his side, sighing deeply.

“I’m thirty-six,” he muttered.

“That you are,” Eve replied placidly.

“I’m getting old.”

“You still look like a child, if that helps.”

“Eve?”

“Yes?”

“Why do you think he didn’t come?”

Eve took a breath, then paused, eyeing Q thoughtfully. Then she answered gently, “He’s halfway across the globe, love. And he’s not exactly welcome according to most of MI6.”

“I’d welcome him,” Q muttered petulantly, completely belying his age.

“You’re the only one, love.”

Q turned over enough to look at her, surprised, to see his best friend glaring off into the distance, perhaps imagining the subject of their conversation standing before her. Then she shook her head and gave a brittle smile. “Well, maybe not the only one,” she amended. “I’m sure Mallory wouldn’t care, he’d just be glad to have an agent back. Tanner, too.”

“Not you, though?” Q asked softly.

Eve’s smile shattered, and she leveled a terribly angry look at Q. “He broke your heart,” she reminded him tartly, ignoring his flinch. “That’s more than enough reason for me to hate him.”

Q nodded carefully, not meeting her eyes. She was a good friend. The best he’d ever had. But she had a protective streak three miles wide and three hundred meters deep. He didn’t need protection, and he didn’t need reminding. But he couldn’t say that.

~~~\0/~~~

“Sir?”

“Hm?”

“We have a visitor.”

Q looked up from his programming, beginning to frown. He had never heard R’s voice so stiff and cold. But standing behind her, hands in his pockets, dressed impeccably, as if he’d never left, was James bloody Bond.

Q stared. He knew he did. He also knew what he said next was nothing but the truth: “You’ve got fucking nerve, coming back like this without warning.”

“I did give warning,” Bond answered smoothly. “I told Mallory.”

“And why didn’t he tell me, pray tell?”

“I don’t know. Happy birthday, by the way.” Bond pulled his right hand out of his pocket. In his palm was a USB drive. Q stared at it dumbly, not bothering to reach for it.

“What exactly is on it?” he asked.

“Coordinates. Names and faces. Bank accounts. Blueprints. I thought you might find them useful.” Bond tossed the USB to Q, who caught it deftly. He turned to his burner laptop and plugged in the USB, ignoring R’s muffled exclamation. If Bond thought they were useful, they probably were. He was impossible like that.

They were, indeed.

Q immediately beckoned R over, and one of his top assistants, Germaine. “I want you two to sort this to the appropriate people, while I work on this.” He gestured vaguely to his program, which now had even more importance. “When you’re done, email M. Don’t bother mentioning Bond; he’ll probably already know who brought it,” he ended sourly, still bitter about not being warned.

R and Germaine nodded in unison and set about taking the drive from the laptop. Bond waited until they had bustled off to R’s workstation, before stepping forward towards Q.

“Thank you for the birthday gift,” Q acknowledged in clipped tones. “You may go, Bond.”

“Q—“

“You may go.”

Bond hesitated, then, amazingly, went.

Q took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then poured all of his attention and considerable brain- and willpower into his work.

~~~\0/~~~

Bond’s information helped them wrap up a two-month-long operation in a week. 003 returned triumphant, and Q-Branch passed around a few bottles of champagne to celebrate. After that initial visit, Bond hadn’t been back; and for that, Q was grateful. He didn’t like the sullen mutters that Bond’s appearance had evoked. It had been no secret that Bond had used Q, and quite skillfully, although the hows and whys varied greatly from source to source. Q had never told anyone but Eve about his crush, but it had been sussed out quickly enough, and he’d never denied it. What was the point? It was the truth, and the truth was of utmost importance.

M called Q to a meeting about two weeks after Bond’s visit. Q went, grumbling about projects left undone and emergencies unfixed, but when he entered the conference room, all sullenness fell from him, and he was Q, cool and efficient and ready to serve. He was not surprised to find other department heads there, although it was with mild surprise that he half-recognized a few personnel from other meetings; he was, however, taken aback to walk in and see Bond there.

Q quietly took his seat and gave M his full attention.

“As you are all aware, we still have yet to assign an agent the 007 designation,” M began, folding his hands on the table and meeting everyone’s eyes in turn. “Bond, the former 007, has asked to return. As he has already passed all the tests, I have cleared him for active duty.”

There was arguing, of course. Bond had to defend himself and his choices, and fend off snide comments that retirement had seemed to agree with him. Q couldn’t help but agree; Bond’s eyes were clearer, his face and body more relaxed. There was more grey in his blond hair, but that hardly mattered. He looked at peace. Like he’d found what he was looking for.

Q wasn’t about to ask what he’d found, though.

In fact, Q remained silent most of the meeting. The only time he spoke was when someone asked why he’d just accepted Bond’s help without asking M.

“Because I trust him,” Q told the asker, quiet but firm.

There was a hesitation, an infinitesimal pause, in the proceedings. Then the questions turned back to Bond, who looked just a little smug.

Finally, M called a halt, thanked everyone for their input, and dismissed them all. “Bloody waste of our time,” someone muttered as everyone stood to leave, except M, Q, and Bond. Someone else hushed the speaker.

Q waited until the press at the door had lessened, then stood and followed.

“Q.”

He paused in the doorway, a little surprised. “Sir?”

M raised an eyebrow and flicked his eyes to Bond. Q felt his face set. He shook his head the tiniest amount, and left, straight-backed and –shouldered, to return to his precious labs.

~~~\0/~~~

The next day, Bond was there for kit. Q had already made it up himself, just to be sure. Also he didn’t trust any of his techies to not put a nasty little surprise in the kit. They glared at Bond’s back as he passed them, and Q was sure he was not imagining the tension in Bond’s shoulders.

“007,” Q greeted him formally, holding out the kit.

“Q,” Bond replied, accepting it.

“Your Walther, plane ticket, ID, radio, and the lighter doubles as a hand-grenade.” At Bond’s raised eyebrow, Q defended himself automatically, “I saw the idea in a movie.”

“I’m sure your design is superior in every way,” Bond replied dryly.

“It is,” Q agreed. “Good luck. And please return the equipment in one piece.”

Bond smirked. Ah, that’s the agent Q knew. “I will.”

007 walked out of Q-Branch, and his shoulders were relaxed. Q nodded to himself and went back to work, satisfied.

Amazingly, Bond’s mission went quite smoothly. He completed it without a single kill or explosion. Q smirked and collected his winnings from his sour-faced techies. He knew better. They were impressed. That was part of why they were so sour about it.

“Congratulations, 007,” Q murmured, buried deep in his code, when Bond stepped up beside him. “That was the first in a long time. Have some Maltesers.”

Bond stared at the bag Q nudged towards him. “I hate chocolate,” he said.

“Your loss.” Q fished out two and popped them in his mouth, sucking on them to get the chocolate coating off. He never took his eyes from his screen.

“I’ve come to return my kit.”

“Yes, leave it there, please, and I’ll get it checked in.”

And just like that, Bond was absorbed back into life at MI6.

~~~\0/~~~

If Q had been paying attention, he would’ve noticed that Bond always seemed to look at Q in a considering way, a bit puzzled, a little calculating, a smidge wondering. He would’ve noticed how the glares from his techies faded and became wary glances.

But he wasn’t paying attention. He was always busy. He only knew something was different when Eve told him.

They were at Eve’s. She and her fiancé were cuddled up on couch, and Q was slouched in the armchair. All three were laughing, drinking, having fun, when suddenly Eve asked casually, “Oh, has James made his move yet?”

Q blinked fuzzily at her. “Huh?”

“James. Bond. The blond bloke with the flat nose and sticky-outie ears.” Eve gestured eloquently with her glass, which was thankfully empty. “Has he even talked to you?”

“He talks to me plenty,” Q replied, his excellent mood wobbling uncertainly. “He has to, when I’m—fixing his damn computers.”

Eve’s boyfriend, who only knew of Bond vaguely from Q’s drunken babbling and Eve’s dark hints, looked between her and Q cautiously. “Is this the same James who quit and came back?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Q sighed, mood definitely deflating. “Damn handsome bastard. He hasn’t “made his move” and he’s never going to. There are no moves to make. He still won’t even look at me.”

Eve snorted. “He can’t stop looking at you!” she proclaimed, gesturing again. Her boyfriend caught her before she fell off the couch. “It’s all he ever does, is look at and talk about you! ‘Q said this, Q did that, did you know Q likes Maltesers, Q should’ve been a pianist’,” she mocked, in a scarily accurate imitation of Bond’s voice. “You’re all he ever wants to talk about! You or all the traveling he’s done.”

Q was blushing fire engine red now. “Not even a mention of Dr. Swann?” he asked his drink softly.

“Especially not her.”

Q nodded carefully, and finished his drink.

Of course, in the morning, he’d convinced himself it was just Bond being inscrutable and unfathomable again. So what if he’d fixated on Q? He’d go after the next beautiful leggy maiden in distress as soon as she presented herself. And anyway, Q was over him.

Wasn’t he?

(to be continued)