#then the second one they’re going to IDENTIFY THEIR COLLEAGUE’S BODY WHO HAS JUST BEEN KILLED

[thealdersgateoffice]

Catherine ‘Passenger Princess’ Standish and her chauffeur Jackson Lamb.

Slow Horses | 1.04 | 2.02 | 3.06 | 4.05 🐌🐎

[fitpacs]

An Angel Saved His Life (but he’s really a lifeguard)

Summary: Pac, the lifeguard, saves the life of a floundering Fit. Fit misconstrues the situation, and thinks Pac is a literal angel.

Genres: Alternate Universe, First Meeting, Humour

Part 1 of the birthday (not so) surprise for the beloved @iridescentpull <3

——

When Pac was younger, and he was asked what he wanted to be when he grew up, he used to say a scientist, an inventor, someone to break new ground and change the world.

And as he sits now, in his little tower in the middle of the beach, leaning back in his chair with his legs resting against the desk, mindlessly watching a sitcom rerun, he wonders if younger him would be proud.

But younger him didn’t have bills and debts to worry about, and not to mention didn’t have prejudice against him and his job prospects halved as a result of only having one biological leg left.

But, ever resilient, the inert desire to prove everyone wrong worked in his favour - breaking multiple records during his lifeguard training, and earning him a permanent position on the most sought after area of the beach.

It’s a cushy job, mostly he just needs to keep an eye on the countless tourists that flock to the beach, paddle in the sea for a few hours, then leave. He also hands out the rentable inflatables, which is where most of his interaction comes from on a daily basis, for some reason people like to stick around and chat with him - the fact he’s heard the phrase ‘hot lifeguard’ a handful of times definitely has not damaged his ego.

It’s a particularly peaceful day, he’s barely had to move from his chair, and has managed to get through four episodes of a long-running series that Mike has been insisting he watches.

The show’s main couple have just started to realise their feelings may run deeper than friendship, when a shrill scream pieces the peaceful atmosphere.

It’s followed by another, and is joined by other shouts and squeals.

He hears someone scream “lifeguard” and jumps up from his chair, sending it flying backwards and hitting the back wall.


He grabs his whistle and board and sprints out of the tower.

People are already running towards him, speaking over each other, but he ignores them, keeping his focus solely on the body of water.

Countless people stand in the shallow waters, shouting to whoever is in danger, but thankfully all move out of the way as Pac blows consistently on the whistle.

One of his colleagues from further down the beach is sprinting over, blowing their own whistle, and encouraging the beachgoers to stand back.

With a deep breath Pac sprints into the sea, and with a little dive he begins swimming towards the person in danger, who at the moment is only identifiable by a single arm above the water.

He’s propelled along by his adrenaline, and is thankful he never skips a workout day, otherwise his muscles would be screaming at him at this point.

But instead he glides through the water with ease, and manages to sweep the man onto board with little effort, and before he even knows it they’re back on the shore, before Pac even realises what he was doing, acting entirely on instinct.

Thankfully, his colleague has managed to shepherd all beachgoers away from the shore.

The chest compressions thankfully have their desired effect, a steady stream of seawater leaving the other man’s mouth with a hearty cough.

Knowing the man is alive gives Pac a much needed second to relax - the man isn’t bleeding, from what he can see, but there is a faint bruise on the side of the man’s bald head that will most definitely be darkening over time, which explains how he probably ended up in the situation he did.

But, and arguably the main thing Pac notices, is the man is undeniably attractive - and, given the fact the man isn’t a corpse and is very much alive, Pac lets himself think that thought openly.

When the man finishes coughing, and the seawater stops pouring out of him, his eyes flutter open then go wide as saucers.

Pac pushes his hair out of his eyes and smiles down at the man. “Hi there,” he says, and the man just blinks at him.

“Holy shit,” the man says, voice raspy.

And Pac didn’t really know he could be attracted to a voice until this exact moment.

“Do you know what happened?” Pac asks, sitting down on the sand as opposed to being on his knees, as the adrenaline is wearing off and his muscles are now beginning to ache.

The man looks around from where he lays motionless on the sand. “I-“ he swallows thickly, but keeps his eyes trained on Pac. “I have no fucking idea what’s happening.”

Pac holds up three fingers. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

The man blinks. “Three,” he says, pressing his lips together for a moment. “Three slender fingers.”

The medic comes running over at that point, and Pac sits back as the medic gives the man a check-over, and thankfully concludes that there are no major issues, and says after a few hours’ rest in the lifeguard tower the man should be fine to leave.

And so Pac scoops the man up, still running the man’s use of the word ‘slender’ over in his mind, and lays him on the hammock in the corner of the lifeguard tower, all the time with the other man watching him with widened eyes.

“Holy shit,” the man says again, as Pac lays him down with ease.

“What’s your name, by the way?” Pac asks, smiling down at him again.

“Fit,” the man says, and swallows. “My name’s Fit.”

“Well, Fitch,” Pac takes a seat beside the hammock, sitting backwards on the chair so he can rest his arms across the top of the chair. “You had a lot of people worried.”

“Fitch?” Fit repeats a couple of times. “Is that how it’s supposed to be pronounced?”

“I mean, it’s how I pronounce it,” Pac laughs.

“I like it,” Fit nods. “Sounds kind of… angelic?”

He locks his gaze on Pac’s, it’s tense but not in an uncomfortable way by any means.

“If you say so,” Pac laughs again. “Are you okay, though? Nothing hurts too bad?”

“I’m so good,” Fit nods decisively. “I have to say I was not expecting you to be the first thing I saw.”

Pac shrugs. “Yeah, people have said that to me a few times before.” He smiles, remembering the various times he’s been referred to as ‘hot lifeguard’.

“I was just expecting, I don’t know,” Fit presses his lips together. “To have to sign in? Sign some papers or something?”

Pac shakes his head. “I’ll take care of that, just a few questions about you that i’ll send over to my boss. You just focus on relaxing, the hard part is over.”

“Your boss?” Fit asks, tilting his head the side. “What’s your boss like?”

Pac shrugs. “Older guy, doesn’t usually get involved and makes everyone else do all the hard work.”

Maybe he has a grudge against his boss for underestimating him when he first completed his training, and maybe that’s still his underlying reason for trying his hardest at absolutely everything - news of Fit’s rescue is going to be one of the biggest forms of fuck you that Pac could send.

Fit tuts. “Yeah, that adds up to what I always thought.”

Pac tilts his head to the side in confusion. “You know my boss?”

Fit shrugs. “Never cared enough to get to know him personally, kind of why i’m surprised i’m here.”

“What do you mean? Everyone deserves to be saved.”

Fit studies him for a moment. “I’m glad you think so, many people where i’m from didn’t think the same, especially when it came to people like me.”

“People like you?”

Fit nods. “Yeah, some people where i’m from aren’t too fond of people like me ending up in places like here.”

“I’m a person like you, and i’m here?”

Fit presses his lips together. “You are so much more than that. What’s your name?”

“Pac,” Pac smiles. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” Fit’s eyes are still

slightly widened. “It’s a cute name, but I didn’t expect anything less.”

“Thanks, Fitch,” Pac smiles. “You just lay there for a bit, i’ll get the paperwork out of the way.”

Fit watches as Pac moves over to the small desk, and begins filling in the relevant information on his laptop to send to his boss to brief the rescue.

When Pac moves back over to the chair, Fit is now sitting upright, leaning his back against the wall.

“So what do we do now?” Fit asks.

Pac shrugs. “Whatever you want. We’ll be here a while, so we can do whatever you want.”

The medic’s recommendation for Fit to stay for a few hours is on Pac’s mind, and he won’t be responsible for any harm coming to Fit as a result for not caring for him properly following his accident.

“Whatever I want?” Fit repeats, biting his lip for a moment. “That’s how it works?”

“Yeah?” Pac taps his fingers against the back of the chair. “You sound surprised, you think i’m gonna force you to do something you don’t want to do?”

“Of course not!” Fit says immediately. “I just didn’t think it would be for me to decide.”

Pac gets up from the chair and reaches to fluff the pillows around Fit, and pull the blankets further over his legs.

“Just relax, Fitch.”

And that’s when Fit closes the gap between them, and kisses him. It completely catches Pac off guard, but he does find himself almost immediately kissing back.

But once reality sets in, he does pull away, slightly breathless, and takes a step back.

Fit’s eyes are again wide as saucers, and he clasps his hands over his mouth.

“Holy fuck,” he says, voice muffled. “You’re… not an angel, are you?”

“An angel?” Pac laughs. “I’ve been called a lot of things, but that’s a new one.”

Fit’s face is bright red, and he shakes his head a few times. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Don’t be!”

“I thought I died,” Fit explains, slowly dropping his hands from his mouth. “That’s why i’ve been saying all this weird shit, oh my fucking god.”

He buries his head in his hands.

Pac kind of finds it adorable.

“Well, you didn’t die,” Pac confirms. “And i’m sorry to say i’m a lifeguard, not an angel.” He shrugs. “Slightly less glamorous.”

“I’m so fucking sorry,” Fit is still shaking his head. “But thank you, for saving my life.”

Pac smiles. “I think you’ve thanked me enough,” he licks his lips to prove his point, and somehow Fit’s face manages to get an even brighter shade of red.

“Can we start over? Man to man? Not, you know, man to angel who then kisses without consent?”

Pac laughs. “Sure. But there would’ve been consent, if you’d have bothered to ask.” He winks, and Fit groans quietly into his hands.

Choosing to apparently ignore what Pac said, Fit holds out a hand.

“Fit, nice to meet you. I’m definitely not a fucking weirdo in normal life.”

Pac shakes his hand and grins.

“Pac, nice to meet you. I’m a lifeguard who has just saved someone’s life and received the best form of thanks for it.”

Fit reddens even further.

“Really? Maybe you should tell your HR department.”

“Nah,” Pac shakes his head. “I’d rather just give my thanks back, once the someone isn’t potentially suffering the aftershock of a temporary concussion.”

Fit eyes him curiously. “I think the someone would be agreeable to that.”

With the atmosphere between them now less tense, Pac decides to tease Fit a little.

“So, Fitch,” he begins, trailing a finger along the top of the chair. “Tell me more about what heaven’s like.”

“This is why I was so confused!” Fit exclaims, burying his head in his hands again. “And the first guy I see looking like you, it just felt too good to be true.”

Fit groans again and slumps back against the hammock. “I’m going to sleep, and when I wake up, i’m going to be in my own bed, back in the closet, and this will all have been a bad dream.”

“I’ve gone from an angel to a bad dream?” Pac gasps. “I need to try harder.”

“Can’t hear you, i’m sleeping,” Fit waves a hand dismissively, and turns away from Pac.

Pac grins and pulls the blankets to cover Fit’s body.

“Sleep well, angel.”

—

[cheri-translates]

[CN] S2 Gavin and MC in Chapter 19 (Part Two)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers from Season 2 🍒

My focus is on Gavin x MC interactions, so content relating to the plot will be in bullet-points :>

Part One: here

[ Notable Scene: Infiltrating the STF ]

MC: ...but aren’t you relieved from your duties?

Gavin seems to guess the words I haven’t said, and he lets out a soft, unnatural cough.

Gavin: I know every patrolling post in the STF, patrol timings and angles of the surveillance cameras. I can ensure that we’d get in successfully without anyone noticing. However, since I only saw his face from four years ago...

MC: I’ll go with you. As long as I see his face, I can point him out to you.

Gavin has a teasing smile in his eyes, perhaps seeing the urgency written on my face.

Gavin: In that case, let’s go for a walk in STF tonight.

-

Late at night, Gavin and I infiltrate the STF through an outer wall.

Pale moonlight outlines a misty halo around him, softening his edges.

He finds an open window with ease. Lifting me up, he lets me jump through the window before leaping in himself.

This appears to be a utility room.

MC: Captain Gavin’s really good at this.

Gavin: This is the STF. I won’t bump into anyone even with my eyes closed, much less the walls.

Before Gavin finishes speaking, Tang Chao walks in with a bowl of instant noodles, a wicked smile on his face while he pushes the door open.

Tang Chao: Instant noodles must be eaten on the sly. Otherwise, I might-

When Tang Chao sees Gavin, he pauses in his footsteps.

In this short span of time, we look at each other speechlessly, the only thing left being the steam rising from the instant noodles.

All of a sudden, Tang Chao rolls his eyes, his body doing a 180 degree turn. With the instant noodles in hand, he steps out of the door before closing it.

Gavin: ...

MC: ...didn’t you say you wouldn’t bump into anyone even with your eyes closed?

Moonlight streams in from the window, illuminating the side of his face clearly. I turn my head stiffly, watching as his Adam’s apple bobs slightly.

Gavin: Tang Chao is slacking off.

Tang Chao’s slightly frantic voice can be heard indistinctly.

Tang Chao: Since Captain hasn’t been around, there were changes to the duty roster... Please save me. That was so awkward. Oh no, I don’t want to run laps...

I stare at Gavin quietly. His expression has returned to normal, as though nothing happened.

Gavin: It’s okay, let’s continue.

Gavin listens to the surroundings calmly. After a moment, he pulls me out of the utility room.

Suddenly, a set of uniform footsteps can be heard from behind us.

STF Agent: ...

Even before we can turn, the regular footsteps turn into small, scattered steps, akin to busy bees fleeing in disarray. The surroundings slowly return to silence.

MC: Have we been completely exposed...?

With a soft cough, a reddish hue climbs up the tips of Gavin’s ears.

Gavin: It doesn’t count if we aren’t caught. 

Eli (through the speakers): Hey hey hey.

Eli’s voice suddenly drifts from the STF’s broadcast speakers. Gavin carefully pulls me over to hide in a shadowy corner of the corridor.

Eli (through the speakers): ...due to some indescribable reasons, all the surveillance cameras in the STF will take a break for 15 minutes. If a certain colleague wishes to go somewhere or do something, please do so quickly.

Gavin: ...

MC: Pfft.

Seeing Gavin’s slightly speechless expression, I can’t help but laugh aloud.

This person is protected by many people who are unafraid of anything, isn’t he?

After this, we occasionally bump into familiar faces. However, they seem to have made a prior arrangement, and choose to ignore us.

Gavin seems to hesitate on whether he should make an explanation, but it eventually turns into one sigh after another.

In the end, we “very successfully” step into the room with the “Eye in the Sky” system.

Using the system, Gavin retrieves footage from the football match, and MC is able to identify the wheelchair-bound man, Du Wen

Gavin then searches up information on him as well as his approximate whereabouts

The both of them find him in a small alley

He admits that he’s the founder of the Fulcrum Charity Organisation, and has been assisting Gray Rhino in whatever he can

He claims that he means them no harm. To prove this, he allows MC to read his memories

Although they find the circumstances too convenient and deliberate, MC reads his memories because why not

She notices that certain memories have been stored in a misty bubble, just like the “firewall” she installed for Gavin earlier

Still, she searches for memories from the New Years Change Incident

She "sweeps” these memories into her own mind, and confirms that he’s indeed a victim of the incident

Gavin asks how he should contact Du Wen in the future, and the latter says he’d appear during a safe time

Once they leave, MC tells Gavin that they can use the Golden Apple 2 to display the memories she saw

Gavin says that Du Wen’s words aren’t trustworthy, but at least they have some leads that could further guide them to the truth

The next afternoon, MC learns from Kiki that the exhibition hall will be re-opening the next day. So she contacts Gavin and plan to sneak into it that same night

When she arrives, there’s someone else with Gavin - an elderly man with a missing left arm

She finds him familiar

[ Notable Scene: MC meets Captain Yan ]

Gavin: MC, this is the old policeman, Captain Yan. Today, he’s mainly here to cover for us. Captain Yan, this is...

Captain Yan: No need for introductions. You’ve mentioned her many times.

Before I can express my shock, Captain Yan sends me a warm gaze.

Captain Yan: MC, we met once at the hospital. I always hear your name from this young lad, so I’m pretty familiar with you.

Captain Yan smiles teasingly, then gives Gavin a meaningful look.

Captain Yan: If he ever bullies you, remember to tell me. As his senior, I’ll give him a proper scolding.

MC: O-okay! Thanks, Uncle Yan.

Gavin: Cough. We’ll leave the pleasantries for next time. We should go now.

With this, Gavin speeds up and walks forward, a faint red hue climbing up the tips of his ears.

Seeing Captain Yan’s grin, I hurriedly lower my head and follow after him.

MC: Gavin, wait for me!

With Captain Yan keeping watch, MC and Gavin use the Golden Apple 2

In the simulated memories of the New Years Change Incident, Gavin notices post-injection bruises on Du Wen’s hand

Du Wen and those around him don’t seem to know what’s going on, but they’re frightened due to the sounds of gunshots and explosions outside

A handful of Evolvers revolt, but are shot to death by officers dressed in NW uniforms

Du Wen flees, and the both of them follow after him

In the end, they watch as a beam crushes the lower part of Du Wen’s body

At the same time, a drone in the simulation appears to take aim at MC

[ Notable Scene: Gavin’s Protection ]

Gavin: MC!

An urgent exclamation drifts to my ears. Turning to the voice, I see Gavin lunging towards me involuntarily.

Those amber eyes grow large in front of me. In the next second, I’m enveloped in Gavin’s arms.

My cheek is pressed tightly to his chest, and powerful heartbeats echo at my ear.

His heart is beating very quickly - so quickly that my heart subconsciously matches its frequency.

“Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump.”

It’s as though these powerful heartbeats are the only things left in the entire world.

In every difficult or dangerous situation, I’m always able to hear this sound.

It’s as though they have melded into my bloodstream, becoming a kind of instinct.

Gavin: It’s fine, there's no need to leave the system.

Gavin’s hand is by his ear. After stating his judgement calmly, he looks at me.

Gavin: Are you okay?

MC: Gavin, this is fake.

Gavin: Mm. But my body seems to have reacted a little faster than my brain.

His amber eyes reflect the blood-coloured sky, filled with worry and fret that he hasn’t had the time to shed off.

Gavin: Whether it’s real or an illusion, I don’t want you to get hurt in front of me.

MC: But they would simply pass through my body.

Gavin: Not even if they pass through.

He speaks unyieldingly.

MC: Okay, whatever you say.

Gavin: Let’s get out of here.

They continue looking at the chaos and hear the sounds of crying and screaming

Gavin appears composed, but the fingertips holding onto MC are quivering, as though he's barely suppressing his anger at the injustice before him

The scene shifts, and what appears before them is a NW laboratory

Du Wen has thick tubes stuck all over him, and he’s submerged in a gigantic apparatus

MC traces that the memory is from 2 months prior to the New Years Change Incident

A senior official from NW walks in, and he seems to be in charge of a secret experiment

[ Notable Scene: Gavin and MC’s Future Father-in-law]

His eyes are steadfast and icy, as though nothing can sway him.

And nothing can destroy or obstruct him.

Gavin stands rooted to the spot. He watches as the man draws closer and closer to himself-

And walks straight through him.

Gavin has already matured into someone whose height is on par with his. They have incredibly similar features, and they even share an identical straight and powerful gait.

However, Gavin doesn’t turn around. His entire body remains stiff until the world gradually gathers into a patch of darkness.

He doesn’t move. The faint white light causes him to look pale.

Slowly, he lowers his head, covering his eyes.

I stand behind him, not saying a word.

That senior official is Gavin’s father.

Once they’re out of the Golden Apple 2, Captain Yan notices how solemn Gavin looks

Gavin takes Captain Yan and MC to a simple apartment to talk

Gavin fills Captain Yan in on what they saw

Captain Yan and Gavin start discussing what happened, and MC heads over to the window to look at the view despite the best view being Gavin

Gavin brings up the laboratory, and Captain Yan asks if he saw “that person”. Gavin grits his teeth and says, “I saw him.”

[ Notable Scene: The End of Chapter 19 ]

Gavin: MC, I’ll send you home.

By the time Gavin comes up from behind me, Captain Yan has already left.

I notice Gavin’s tense lower jaw. He seems to be doing his best to appear natural in front of me.

To appear as though he doesn’t care.

Seeing this person before me, I feel my heart being clenched tight.

MC: Gavin, I want to go somewhere before heading home. Could you accompany me?

-

When we leap over the walls of Loveland High, confusion flashes across his eyes.

The gentle evening breeze brushes his fringe, and his figure is immersed in patches of moonlight.

It’s been a very long time since I last returned to this place. But images from this place always surface in my mind.

The field, the stairs, the roof, the gymnasium late at night, and the infirmary.

During that period of time I had re-lived, I wanted nothing more than for time to move a little faster.

So that I’d be able to reach that day when I could walk over to him a little sooner.

However, this year, I’m reluctant to let time pass by as quickly. 

During the time in which the wind blew by, that young man filled all my memories related to youth.

That’s how reluctant I am.

That’s why I’ve been walking slowly on purpose. Even so, in just the blink of an eye, he disappeared in the breeze of youth.

Pulling on Gavin’s hand, we walk along the field, and walk into the depths of the forest behind the school.

MC: Gavin, I think you’re angry.

I turn my head to the side to look at him. Gavin simply furrows his brows slightly, and it’s clear that he feels a little uneasy.

MC: You don’t need to pretend that nothing’s bothering you in front of me. Anger isn’t something you should feel ashamed of.

Gavin: I...

He opens his mouth, but something sews it up again.

A fierce wind suddenly rises, causing countless fallen leaves to swirl in the air.

They are reminiscent of incessant, agonised screams.

Gavin: I... just can’t understand. There are clearly many other methods. There are many other choices.

His words are blended into the wind, suppressed and pained.

I don’t turn my head to look at his expression. I simply stand beside him quietly, our fingers interlaced together, standing in the middle of the fierce gale.

With the flow of time, the fierce gale becomes calmer. In the end, it morphs into a gentle breeze, brushing our fringes.

Gavin: MC, thank you.

I shake my head, turning my head towards him.

MC: Gavin, do you know something? The reason why I brought you back here was to tell you that I hope your beautiful memories won't simply be confined to high school. Beautiful things should continue, and never end.

While saying this solemnly, my heart speeds up uncontrollably.

Gavin’s pupils quiver slightly, and he squeezes my hands tightly.

Gavin: Thank you.

Very softly, he repeats these words.

MC: Let’s walk around a little more before heading home.

I chuckle happily, my footsteps becoming incomparably lighter.

All of a sudden, my palm feels empty -

It’s as though Gavin released my hand.

Feeling puzzled, I turn around to find that Gavin had simply shifted his hand behind his back.

MC: What’s wrong?

Gavin: ...nothing.

When the girl’s confusion is dispelled and she continues walking forward, Gavin lowers his head to look at his vanished right arm, his expression composed.

As compared to his right hand disappearing the last time, the scope seems to have grown larger this time.

Gavin follows behind the girl calmly, contemplating quietly.

His time might be shorter than he imagined.

Gavin chuckles softly, the corners of his lips hooking upwards slowly.

Gavin: MC.

I pause in my footsteps and turn around, realising that we’re several footsteps apart.

MC: Gavin, what’s wrong?

Gavin: I just received news from Captain Yan. I might have to leave for a while.

MC: So suddenly?

Gavin: Sorry. After sending you home, I’ll set out.

He looks at me apologetically, as though suppressing something once again.

-

After returning home, I quickly remove my shoes and rush to the window to search for that figure.

Guessing that I’d do this, Gavin doesn’t leave immediately. He stands downstairs, waiting for me.

A gust of wind burrows in through the window, as though carrying with it slight reluctance as it makes gentle twirls around me again and again.

I lean my palm against the glass, wanting to say another farewell to him.

MC: Gavin, you must return safely.

💙 Calls and Moments: here

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[whorefordazai]

hii how are you? i hope you're good<3 uhm, I don't know how to use tumblr yet,, but if you're doing request,, can i ask for sfw and nsfw headcanons for sigma? i literally can't found anything of him😭

I kinda made this abnormally long unlike my other headcannons I’m sorry haha😅 but I had a lot of fun writing it !

sigma headcannons (sfw & nsfw)

ft. sigma x gn! reader

genre: fluff, nsfw

warnings: mentions/depictions of sex

SFW

Before dating:

- before you start dating, you won’t catch much of an eye to sigma. After all, you’re just another casino worker. He still respects you and definitely values your hard work (just as any casino worker) because he knows how much work you all put into the casino.

- the both of you are just work buddies at first. That’s all. Tbh if sigma started liking you, he wouldn’t even be able to identify it as a crush LMAO

- like “oh they’re actually really pretty...” and “we would make a good partnership...” and “I really admire their skills to persevere through anything...”

- really sigma? Is that all😏?

- and then he’d begin to notice the things he’s saying in his head like “oh...they really are so beautiful...” and then realization hits and he’s like “WAIT! THEY ARE JUST A COLLEAGUE!!”

- little did he know, he said that out loud while furiously waving his arms in the air. Fyodor saw, kept quiet like this 🧍‍♂️🤐, then later gossiped about it to Nikolai.

- he’d dismiss the idea at first, ignoring his own feelings because obviously he doesn’t think he’s worthy enough for you. But it’s so hard to keep away from you. Mostly because you’re his mf partner😄👩‍🦯

- unable to keep away from you, sigma knows he wants you now. He can’t deny the fact that you’re incredibly attractive. Both inside and outside. You work just as hard as him, you’re always so determined and ready for action. Sigma envied you to be able to keep a cool head throughout frustration.

- he really wanted to make the first move. Nothing too forward. He just felt anger rising in him every time he saw an old man hit on you and try to flirt. You, of course, could only laugh with a nervous nod because they were customers.

- unable to take anymore, sigma confronts you.

“Y/n...you know you can tell those old men to stop bothering you...right?”

Your smile faltered for a second, but you quickly masked it up. “But sigma...we can’t lose customers. You work so hard to maintain this casino...it would all go to waste if the customers stopped coming.”

Sigma’s heart broke at your pained smiled. He gently grabbed your hands and made you look in his eyes. “I don’t need some old perverts as customers. You matter more to me than anyone.”

HUH?! Did I just say that😃?!

Panic immediately set in sigma’s head. Of course he wasn’t lying, you did matter to him more than anything. But it was really strange hearing it come out of his own mouth. Nothing had ever been more important to sigma than the casino. This is scary...

“Really?” Your eyes lit up. You clasped sigma’s hands tighter, resting your head on his chest. He immediately froze, unable to do anything else.

They’re hugging me? What am I supposed to do? This feels so different...am I supposed to hug back? This feels better than the hugs Nikolai forces on me...😟

After a moment of stunned silence 🤩🧍‍♂️, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a hug. This is the first time he’s hugging someone who isn’t Nikolai😧...it feels so nice.

During a relationship:

- sigma would really have to trust you to be in a relationship with you. I mean, this is the first time he’s ever had these type of feelings for anyone.

- he’s a bit shy when it comes to showing affection. The first time he attempted to hold your hand, he almost fainted because his heart was beating really fast 🕺

- holding hands is something y’all both do. It’s like a symbol of safety and reassurance when one of (or both of you) are feeling anxious. He was a real sly mf when holding your hand for the first time😏👆

The loud music blared across the rooms. You and sigma were currently trying to make your way through the floors and between huge crowds. The casino was abnormally packed with people today, it was slightly unexpected.

You could barely see anything among the crowds, only sigma’s mismatched color hair popped out among others. “Sigma...w-wait...” you managed to mutter out. You were getting caught in people’s arms and it was becoming more unbearable to walk.

Sigma didn’t turn around at your voice, so you knew he couldn’t hear you. The music was way too loud.

Just as the both of you were turning a corner, a tall figure bumped into your body, making you fall over on your arm.

“Fuck!” You winced in pain, realizing that your arm was probably broken.

“Y/n! Are you okay?!” You heard sigma’s voice call out to you. His face was morphed into shock and worry, seeing you on the floor. You raised your eyebrows. He came back for me?

He held out a hand to you, wanting to help you get up from the floor. You gladly took in, using your feet to help balance yourself.

Once you were up, you noticed that sigma had not let go of your hand. You looked up at him in confusion.

“Uhm...we should probably hold hands. Just to make sure we don’t lose each other...o-only if you want to though!” Sigma averted his eyes from yours. His voice was almost a whisper, you could barely hear it among the loud casino music.

A smile appeared on your lips. You look down at your hands clasped together, and intertwined your fingers. “Yeah. To make sure we’re safe...”

The both of you held hands the whole night.

Sneaky little sigma 😏📸

- give him sudden kisses. On his lips, cheek, or even forehead. He’ll probably stay stunned for a few seconds, unable to process what just happened.

- and then he’d go pink 😝

- I mean, he isn’t usually shy in front of others because he runs a fucking casino? There isn’t any time to be shy! But when you randomly kiss him, you’ll see his cheeks go red and his eyes glint.

- he’ll be a little flustered, so he’ll go to the back break room and take a moment to breathe and have a drink.

- the both of you have matching necklaces. The necklace has an Amethyst stone on it. It’s said to relieve anxiety and stress, and the both of you go through that every day. But really, it was just an excuse to wear matching jewelry 😊

- might I add, sigma wears a lot of jewelry! Especially to match his hair and outfits. He’ll mostly wear rings on his fingers, or sometimes you’ll sneak hair clips in his hair😏

- when he’s having a rough day, he’ll just crawl into your lap and lay his head on your thighs. You’d immediately get the message and start to slowly run your fingers through his hair.

- his arms would wrap around your waist and somehow your limbs would be tangled together under the blankets. He’d softly mumble into your chest, “I’m so lucky to have you. What did I do to deserve this?”

- having identity crises? Yes. Before he met you, sigma didn’t think he had a purpose in life. The casino was the only thing keeping him living on. Knowing all those people were depending on him kept him going. But he felt so empty.

- after a long hard days of work, he would come into his room and feel an immense emotion of loneliness. But now that you were here, he truly felt like he had someone by his side.

NSFW

- the first time y’all had sex, he was definitely shy at first. Was a little hesitant in touching you because making you uncomfortable was the last thing he wanted to do. Would always ask before placing his hands anywhere intimate. “C-can I touch you here?”

- he would be extremely gentle (and an unintentional tease) the first time. He would go really slow, his thrusts would send you oblivion. I mean, your walls are clenching around him, practically begging him to go faster.

- pls, he just doesn’t want to accidentally hurt you😞

“You feel so good...” sigma mumbled into your neck. Your eyes prick with tears from the feeling of him inside you.

“Mhm...go faster!” You mutter out, hands entangling behind his neck. His eyes flick to yours. “A-are you sure?”

“For fucks sake, yes!”

“...okay🤩!”

- after your first approval to go faster, he doesn’t hold back one bit. Within seconds, your legs are over his shoulders, his arms hooked around your thighs.

- he’s a soft dom, but kinda likes teasing you (not to the point where you don’t orgasm) but making you softly beg for his dick 😙

- sigma doesn’t always show it, but he loves it when you subtly drop hints that you want him to fuck you. The way you seem to dance with every step and your hands become fidgety just to touch him.

- expect lots of hickeys. Not the dark purple ones, just pink or red ones. He loves marking you up and watching you struggle to cover them up in the morning (don’t worry, he’ll help you cover them all while apologizing)

“Sigma, these hickeys are uncover-able 😶”

“Really? I do apologize, dear 😙”

(He’s not really sorry, if anything, he’s proud of his hard work)

- pent up stress relief sex. That’s it. That’s the headcannon. Even though this man might seem calm and collected on the outside, he’s definitely not on the inside.

- after running a casino the whole day, all he wants to do is relieve himself of his pent up stress...in you😙

- like I said, he’ll be a soft dom but when you want to ride him, his extra dom side will suddenly jump out. While you’re basically panting on his lap, he’ll grab your chin and say “you look so pretty sitting on my dick. Why don’t you look me in the eyes?”

- your legs won’t be working for the next few days shawty 🙅‍♀️

[eri-baby]

chongyun crushing on a shy/dense noble fem!reader

a/n: this idea has been on my mind for a long time now, and i'm finally posting it! chongyun is probably very ooc, but listening to his character's voice-over's gave me the idea that he's just an earnest guy and i found that adorable.

i picture that chongyun first saw [ ] at a banquet where all the wealthy and influential were invited. she was quiet, reserved, rarely speaking to anyone. it was hard not to notice her when gossip about her was circulating all around the room. they called her a mist flower because she's "a cold person" and yet they appreciated her beauty. [ ] is expected to become one of the leaders of liyue in the future, maybe even one of the qixing, because of her family's influence and her being a well-educated young woman. chongyun ignored the rumors about her and respected her resolve to make liyue a better place.

from that day onward, chongyun wanted to know more about [ ]. they were similar, after all. chongyun and [ ] were both cold in the eyes of the public. he thought he would be able to get along well with her. he had nothing but respect for her.

whenever he had a comission, he asked clients or locals within the area about the noble [ ]. he discovered that [ ] often travels around liyue to personally watch over the state of each area. if anything were ever amiss, [ ] herself is the one who creates solutions and funds them. she shut down businesses that were swindeling people, found new jobs for the innocent workers involved, and earned back money for the victims. he found more admiration for her.

xingqui turns out to be somewhat childhood friends with [ ]. they spend time together every now and then. xingqui described her as a well-meaning girl who can never get her point across because of how awkward she is. she focuses more on the problem at hand and solving it rather than interacting with others which makes her come across as prickly.

chongyun was excited when he heard that [ ] had spoken about him. she asked xingqui about the young exorcist, and commented that exorcists like chongyun help maintain liyue's glory. it took him two months to stop centering all conversations around [ ]'s passing comment.

he has attempted to speak with her, even frequenting areas she was said to be seen in often, but the most he would get were glimpses of her before she scurried off or was escorted away by one of her chaperones. it disappointed him greatly that he never had the oppertunity to speak to her since he was so invested in her and her work.

i think he would barely realize his own feelings for a total stranger. xingqui and xiangling are sick of hearing about [ ]. they're scared of the day [ ] actually talks to chongyun. she's the only other thing on his mind other than training and exorcism.

he was disappointed and ready to give up on ever talking to [ ] after months of trying, until he was assigned to a comission in her estate. apparently weird things have been happening in her room. items have been misplaced, at night there were whispers coming from the closet, banging noises were coming from the walls. it caused her family great distress.

chongyun was, needless to say, stressed about making an appearance in [ ]'s household. how should he introduce himself? how should he speak to her? will he be able to speak to her? what should he bring? he bothered both xingqui and xiangling as he asked all these questions over and over again. xingqui was so annoyed that he finally relented, telling chongyun that lady [ ] is fond of the glaze lily flower. chongyun was gone before any of them could say another word.

the local florist in liyue harbor had not even a single glaze lily in stock. chongyun had to go all the way to a faraway town where a different florist was. he was lucky it was a colder day. with a boquet of glaze lillies in hand, he was ready to travel back to lady [ ]'s estate. on the way back, he passed by a little girl who was in tears. the little girl had dirt stains on her clothes but no injuries. she begged him to save a girl who had gotten trapped in a cave. the little girl was looking for her doll and she asked the girl, who's physical description matched [ ]'s, to enter the cave with her. the girl relented but inside they were attacked by a ruin hunter. the girl managed to get the young child out of the cave before rubble fell over the other entrance. it had been a long time but the girl still hasn't turned up.

chongyun immediatly dropped the glaze lillies in his hand and rushed to the direction the little girl pointed in. the cave had two openings, one of which had been blocked by rubble. chongyun went through the second one. he found at the other end lady [ ] fighting off a ruin hunter with her bow. chongyun finished it off for her.

he immediatly dropped down beside her and asked her if she was okay politely. she had no idea what to say, in fact she wasn't even expecting any help, and nodded quietly. he noticed that her ankle was swolen so he used his cryo vision to ease her pain. he quickly helped her up, even carrying her despite his fear of triggering his congenital positivity. he was lucky that the weather was cold and so was the cave, and that [ ]'s body temperature was also cold because of her vision.

"I am Chongyun, from an exorcist family. I was heading to your home, Lady [ ], to deal with the evil spirit in your room, until the little girl you had rescued stopped me and asked me to help you."

"I... see. We'll have to double your payment for saving me, Exorcist Chongyun."

"Oh, no! My services are free of charge!"

she became quiet and smiled to herself. he could hear her quiet giggles, making his cheeks heat up slightly. he worried about his congenital positivity.

both of them were somewhat awkward and dense. the truth was that they were both panicking. chongyun had no idea what to say and neither did [ ].

chongyun was the first to speak after a few minutes of awkward silence

"I'm sorry I don't know what to say to you."

"I have no idea what to say as well."

they both laughed together about being dense in social situations. from then on, conversation flowed somehow a little easier because they found that they had something in common. the more they spoke to each other, the more similarities they found.

it turns out that her reputation of being a cold person was a result of her being misunderstood. [ ] doesn't know how to say things other than straightforwardly, and when she panics she has a tendency to freeze up making her tense in conversations.

chongyun as well had a one-track mind. everything he did was to become a better exorcist, which made him terrible at conversations especially outside of the exorcism business.

she spoke about the responsibilities of supporting the nation of liyue and her dream of traveling every inch of their lands and waters because she wanted to be one of the pillars of liyue in the future. it was her dream to become a qixing, like ningguang, to support liyue's growth.

he shared his dream of becoming the greatest exorcist. he wanted to find an evil spirit or demon that wouldn't avoid his congenital positivity, and to be able to control his congenital positivity. his dream was to rid the world of all evil spirits as the greatest exorcist in all of history.

they each shared the hardships of reaching their dreams and their desires to reach their goals. it was everything and more than he imagined talking to her. he had always wanted this oppertunity to speak to someone similar to him.

they reached the outside of the cave only to be met with servants from [ ]'s estate. she was taken away from him and rushed back to her home while he was thanked for saving her. apparently there was no evil spirit in their estate, at least not a real spirit. they were abyss mages planning something terrible again and [ ] was the victim. her family sent servants to pick her up from this town, only for them to hear from the little girl about what had happened. chongyun was greatly compensated for his help. he didn't even get the chance to say goodbye to [ ].

weeks had passed without chongyun seeing nor speaking to [ ]. he sent her a "get well soon" present but received no response. each passing day made him more and more depressed, which xingqui was not used to. xingqui told him that [ ]'s family was probably trying to keep her away from the public and were being overprotective but it didn't make anything better.

aether came in with paimon and a package in hand. he had somewhat a smug smile on his face, having some awareness of chongyun's crush on [ ]. he said that he had been comissioned by lady [ ] to deliver the package to chongyun directly. without allowing aether to finish his sentence, chongyun took the package from the blond's hands and carefully opened it.

inside it he found a letter and a jade insignia. the jade had an intricate glaze lily symbol carved on it with other symbols chongyun could not recognize. he brought out the letter and read it.

Exorcist Chongyun,

I apologize for not sending you a thank you note earlier nor seeing you at all these past few weeks. I haven't found a perfect oppertunity to escape from my family until now. My leg is fully healed, and I can even run. Please be assured that your present and the glaze lillies you had intended to give me have reached me. The little girl I was helping gave them to me and said they were from you. Thank you for such thoughtful presents.

I am aware that you don't accept payments, so instead I have sent you this as a gift. It's an insignia that identifies colleagues of mine and allows them to enter into one of my private and personal cottage. Rest assured, there will be plenty of cold sweets for you waiting there and the cottage itself is kept cold.

Please see me at Guyun Stone Forest. The insignia will lead you to me.

From [ ].

he barely finished that letter and he was already out. as the letter stated, the insignia did lead him to the secret cottage. on one of the mountains, there was a contraption made of stone that he would place the insignia in and then a stairway would appear. it led him up to a snowy floating island with a cozy cottage.

[ ] was sitting on a swing supported by a tree and waved to catch his attention.

"Greetings, Exorcist Chongyun."

"Hey, Lady [ ]."

[just--another--daydreamer]

Snippets

» Shota Aizawa x gn!reader (They/Them pronouns used)

»Genre: Angst »Summary: While investigating a murder, Aizawa finds a piece of paper that reminds him of the past »Warnings: murder; blood; (short) description of a dead body & injuries; police; implied depression; trauma »Words: 2.2k » A/N: I listened to the song “Red” by Survive Said the Prophet as an inspiration for this. Repost because it didn’t show up in the tags

You can find a link to my Masterlist etc in my bio and pinned post

The scene was a mess when Aizawa arrived. The glass of what used to be a rather fancy door and windows cracked under the soles of his shoes as he approached the building. The automatic door did not open anymore, so he simply stepped through the giant hole in the pane, closely followed by his fellow pro-hero Midnight.

On the dark marble floor that adorned the bank’s entrance, the shards looked like stars in the sky of a clear summer night. However, the stars were not of their usual colour – they shone in a bright red. Aizawa’s eyes looked for the source of the red colouring and quickly fell onto the reason why he was there in the first place.

There was not much left of the expensive suit that the man had been wearing. It was ripped into pieces that hung loosely from his body, exposing the bone-deep wounds the man was covered in. An obnoxious smell came from the victim, but Aizawa refrained from covering his nose. Instead, he just clenched his jaw, the sensation a minor distraction from it.

Kayama crossed her arms in front of her chest. “He’s dead.” Aizawa huffed in an amused manner. “I couldn’t tell, thank you for pointing that out.” He took a few brave steps toward the body. The investigators who had been taking notes and pictures of the victim and the scene made room for the hero. Their job was done and they disappeared outside.

Aizawa crouched down to get a closer look at the man. He was not particularly interested in the dead body itself, but in his suit. Trying not to get too much blood on his hands in the process, Aizawa reached into the man’s pocket. His fingers grazed a tiny piece of paper. ‘Bingo,’ he thought before letting it disappear immediately and without anyone noticing. He was proud that not even Kayama’s watchful eyes had picked up on him doing this. He was glad that the police had not found it yet, making it easier for him to maybe take a look at it later, despite already knowing what the piece of paper was. Though, there was something in his mind that told him to leave it there, to forget about all this. To leave it to the police. Aizawa should let this rest and move one. God, that was giving him a headache. He got up with an annoyed gnashing of teeth.

“Oh, the heroes!” A fairly young policeman interrupted Aizawa’s ‘investigation’ by approaching them. “Any witnesses?” Kayama asked without hesitations. “No, that’s why nobody called the pros. He was found like that by a civilian when he was already dead.” The man pulled out the notes he had been taking prior to the heroes’ arrival. “Has he been identified yet?” Even though they were not technically a part of the investigating forces, the heroes had to know everything. Catching the foe was their job after all. “No. We’re working on it,” the man answered Aizawa’s question. “You’ve taken a look at the body?”

“Yes.” “Do you have any idea who could’ve done this?” the policeman asked. Aizawa averted his eyes, afraid that the officer might know that he was lying when he said, “No. Isn’t it your job to find that out?” His worries turned out to be unjustified as the policeman clicked his pen and let it, alongside with his small notepad, disappear in his pocket, an offended frown on his forehead. “That’s correct,” he answered, clearly struggling to keep his composure after Aizawa’s comment. “The video tapes are being investigated at the moment.”

Aizawa huffed again. “Yeah, good luck with that.” Kayama gave him a warning side-look. He knew he went too hard on the newbies sometimes and being in no good mood after his small discovery did not make that any better. “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” the young man stated. “This was the work of someone who knew what they were doing,” Aizawa explained. “There were no witnesses so that person knew the perfect timing for their attack. I’m sure they were aware of the security cameras as well. Even though they completely destroyed the place which makes it seem like a messy, spontaneous attack, it was a coordinated one for sure. This wasn’t a simple robbery ending in murder, this was an assassination.” The man looked at him, stunned. Kayama, on the other hand, was not too impressed.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that the murderer was a pro at what they were doing. They probably-” Aizawa stopped himself before he could reveal any more of the things going through his head. “That’s it, that’s all I’ve got.”

“Thank you for your cooperation, Eraserhead.” Still a little stunned, the policeman bowed his head, Aizawa did not bother to do the same.

They watched as the man joined his colleagues outside.

Aizawa rubbed his jaw. It hurt from how much he had been gritting his teeth. In his pocket, his fingertips touched the tiny piece of paper again. Snippets of the past that he had been trying to forget at any cost came back all of the sudden and with the force of water masses making their way through a dam after weeks of heavy rain. He closed his eyes for a moment. Home. He needed to get home right now.

Midnight frowned at Aizawa. She opened her mouth to say something, but he silenced her by raising his hand in a defensive manner. “I know what you’re going to say, save your breath.” But, as it was to be expected from his friend, Midnight spoke anyway. “You’ve found another snip.” “That doesn’t matter.” “That means it was them.” Aizawa really did not want to have this conversation right now. He buried his hands in his pockets again, closing his fist around the paper, and started walking towards the entrance of the bank. The night was bright from the red lights of the many police cars outside the building, reflecting off the wet asphalt. Some reporters tried to get a picture of the heroes leaving the building or even the crime scene. Their flashing cameras blinded Aizawa and he looked down as he lifted the warning tape to pass beneath it.

He was sure that Midnight would follow him but he would not have thought that she would catch up so fast. “You should tell the police everything you know about them,��� she ordered. “I haven’t seen them in three months-” Aizawa sighed. “-since they lost their hero license, became a vigilante and broke up with me.” “Aizawa, that did not look like the work of a vigilante. That was a villain’s work.” He recalled the images of the scene and shook his head. Both to erase the picture of the corpse, and to disagree with his friend. “I’m sure they had their reasons.” Midnight huffed. “And you’re still defending them? Why?” Aizawa did not have an answer. “I’m sure the investigations will give some more insight.” “The investigations that you are impeding?” He did not have an answer to that either.

“I didn’t think you were the kind of person to let your feelings get in the way of your work.”

Stopping in his tracks, Aizawa sighed. “I didn’t think that either.” A hand of his wandered from his pocket to his chest, right above his heart. The pain that he had been trying to ignore came back, full force. It spread like a forest fire in a dry summer from his chest through his entire body, replacing the numbness he had been dealing with for the past months. The pain took his breath and made it impossible for him to move. He needed to get home, please, he needed to get away from Kayama, away from everyone.

For a mere second, he thought of how he needed you. You would know what to say, how to help him. You would know how he felt by just looking at him. But then he remembered that it was also you who had gotten him into this situation in the first place. That you were the one who had just murdered that man. Why was he defending you? He did not know. It was not the right thing to do, probably. Maybe. Maybe? He had no idea.

Aizawa’s fingers held onto his shirt that hung loosely over his chest. It did not ease the pain. Neither did holding onto that piece of paper you had left for him on the body. Just like you had left them at the scenes after the last few crimes you had committed. But with the difference that this had been your first murder.

“They’re not a villain, Kayama.” Aizawa was glad when he felt the first few raindrops hit his clothes and hair. The rain would cool him down, sort his thoughts out. Or so Aizawa hoped. “They may have lost their hero license but that doesn’t make them a villain.” “So you’re calling them a vigilante?”

“The hero system is not rational. Vigilantism is not rational either,” Aizawa was not sure where he was going with this. Maybe this was just him convincing himself that, no, you were not a villain. He clenched both his fists until his knuckles turned white. He thought of all the times they had put hero students so very young in dangerous situations, leaving them mentally scarred forever. He thought of the students who died horrible deaths upon being put into fights that were not even theirs yet and might not even become theirs in the future. He thought about the rejects, those who did not fit into heroism. He thought about those abusing their power. And finally, he thought about you, who had always fought against these problems in your own way and thus lost your license. And Aizawa had been too much of a coward to follow you.

He felt like he had broken into pieces that day, ripped apart into tiny snippets. It was not impossible for him to comprehend your thoughts and motivations – no, they even made sense to him. But a part of him stuck to what he had been taught to believe in. No, it was not only his heart that had broken that day.

It started to shower and thunder could be heard in the distance. Aizawa’s clothes started sticking to his skin, sending a shiver down his spine. He should get out of the rain to not catch a cold but instead he lifted his head and faced the sky. The rain mixed with the tears he had been shedding in secret and hidden from his friend’s view.

Aizawa had not allowed himself to cry until now. And hell, it felt good. The pain in his body eased, returned to his heart until that was the only place to ache.

“Give me the paper.” Kayama came closer and, in that moment, Aizawa was incredibly thankful for the rain. He reached into his pocket and placed the snippet on Kayama’s hand.

“It’s a location, just like the last few times. They want to talk to you, Aizawa.” “Yeah, it seems like they do.” “You should accept their offer.” “Did you change your mind about them all of the sudden?” Aizawa raised his eyebrows at Kayama. “No,” Midnight admitted. “But I’m your friend and I see that you’re hurting.” She rested her free hand on his shoulder. “And I trust your judgement that they have their reasons.” Aizawa ignored her last statement. “I’m not hurting.” “Oh shut the hell up.” Kayama lightly punched his bicep, it barely hurt. “It’s not far from here. A five-minute walk. Do you wanna go?” Aizawa nodded.

He did not know why he had agreed to meet you. It was not rational, not at all. The walk there felt as though it lasted hours – every single step took so much effort, like the street was made of gum sticking to his soles. At this point, he could see their breaths in the white lights of the street lanterns. The cold bit into Aizawa’s skin, made its way through his flesh and stuck to his bones, slowed him down even more. The rain was getting into his eyes, blurring his vision. Maybe the world did not want him to get to you, he thought. But when he saw your silhouette in the distance, an umbrella in your right hand to protect yourself from the rain, he remembered why he was there. He was there to make things right. Between him and you as well as in the society he lived in. He would do anything to fix this mess. To protect his students. To protect his and your ideals. To protect the ones he loved. To protect you. And to be protected by you.

“I am here,” was all he said when he came to a stop two metres before you. All Might’s catchphrase, ironic for the situation he was in. Even though it was dark, he was able to see you smile. It was a warm smile, the one he had missed so incredibly much. You offered him your hand and he took it with no hesitation. It felt familiar and sent electricity through your touching palms, up his arm and through his entire body. Somehow, the snippets of who he was came together and he felt whole again.

[apparitionism]

Monday

I wrote the following brief scenes a while ago as part of a potential story that refused to coalesce. It may yet, someday, but for now this is merely a scrap of unfruited AU narrative; I’m posting only to prove to myself that I’m not completely incapable of doing writing-related things, even if it’s just tidying up generic, trope-y bits of dialogue. I intended Christina, about age seven, to be an important story lever in this, with this Myka and this single-mom Helena as coworkers of some sort (I was thinking insurance, possibly, because risk management has been on my mind). Such fuzziness was part of why the story as such never took off... in any event, it doesn’t matter. Here is what does matter: if you are a U.S. citizen who is able to vote, do it; choose Biden/Harris and every down-ballot Democrat. This HAS TO BE a landslide repudiation of that horrific, corrupt individual and the party that enables him.

Monday

Turning points arrive in their own time.

Myka and Helena were eating lunch together. That in itself was of course not unusual, for they were colleagues and friends. And as colleague-friends, they tended to eat lunch together.

“You seem upset,” Myka noted. Helena was picking at a salad, but differently than she usually picked at her salads. Usually she picked because she was picky and would eat only the most pleasing elements; today she was merely moving salad components from one region of the plate to another.

“I’m not upset.”

“But you seem upset.”

“Well... I have to break an engagement. It’s impolite.”

Being forced into incivility was indeed the kind of thing that would drive Helena to stab, lift, and re-place arugula. “Why do you have to break an engagement?”

“You know Mrs. Carter, the neighbor who usually sits with Christina. She was called out of town. An ill relative. This morning—but I had plans tonight.”

“Could your plans happen at your house instead? Without sitting?”

Helena wrinkled her brow. “It’s a first date. Far too soon to bring a new person into Christina’s life like that.”

A first date. The words punched Myka hard, leaving a queasy burning in their wake. Her analytical side leapt to make sense of this extreme response: It’s the first time you’ve heard Helena say anything about such a thing, so it surprised you. You’ve never liked surprises; ergo, you’re just reacting poorly to being surprised. Because of course Helena would go on a first date, because of course she would want to find someone, someone to be with, and Myka didn’t know why that hadn’t occurred to her before, but she and Helena hadn’t really talked much about relationships, so maybe Helena went on a lot of first and other dates that she hadn’t bothered mentioning to Myka, and maybe that meant their friendship wasn’t as close as Myka had thought, because maybe they really were more colleagues than friends, and... Okay, just stop. Whatever this is, stop. She breathed her way through the aftermath of the punch and said, “I’ll do it, then. Babysit.”

“You will?”

“You were planning to go out. You should go out.”

“You haven’t asked me with whom.”

“That’s probably not my business,” Myka said, because it wasn’t, despite her unexpected, inappropriate impulse to claim it as entirely her business. Just stop.

“Claudia’s new manager in platform development. Claudia described her to me as, and I quote, ‘absolute fire.’ Which I presume is good.”

“So you asked her out.”

“No, she asked me. And I said yes, because... well, is there a reason I shouldn’t?”

Was that intended as bait? But it couldn’t have been. Logicking it out again: Myka had never felt such a weird surge (no, a twitch, it was only a twitch) of possessiveness before; thus Helena couldn’t have identified it so quickly, and with such precision, that she would immediately challenge Myka on the point. Could she? “Of course not,” Myka said. “What time do you want me to show up?”

*

That evening, Myka kept her still-reeling gut at bay by concentrating on Christina, who was delighted to have Myka all to herself. “You and Mom talk about boring things,” she pronounced as soon as her mother left. “Tonight you don’t have to do that!”

No... all Myka had to do was imagine what sorts of non-boring things Helena was talking about with her date who was absolute fire. But she managed not to do too much of that imagining, at least while Christina was awake, while they were building with Legos and renaming her plastic and puffy animals and manipulating slime. This latter was a fad that had, according to Christina, faded some time ago, but she found the texture soothing; she asked Myka, very seriously—as if Myka’s verdict would be the final word on the subject—whether that meant it was okay not to give it up. Myka said that in her experience, truly calming things were few and far between, so she thought it was more than okay. Christina enjoyed the phrase “few and far between.”

Myka was tempted to let Christina stay up late, late and later, but she supposed it wasn’t fair to deprive a child of sleep just to rescue herself from herself.

She fell asleep on the sofa, and that was a blessing; she didn’t have to hear Absolute Fire’s car, didn’t have to think about anything that might be happening in that car. She awoke just as Helena was stepping inside and taking off her coat. Helena turned around and smiled, and Myka struggled to sit up and look alert, saying a sleep-hoarse “sorry” as she did.

“What for? Being asleep at ten at night? That seems reasonable. Ideally I’d have been asleep by now, if I’d been home.”

“It’s only ten?”

“Dinner was short. The fire may be absolute as far as Claudia is concerned, but there were no sparks that I could see. Or feel.”

Thank god, Myka thought, too fervently. Then, Just stop. Aloud, she tried for indifference: “Maybe Claudia should go out with her instead.”

“Maybe she should. Did my own small bit of fire behave herself?”

“She was great. I’m never going to fully appreciate the appeal of slime... but I can report that bath, story, and bed were peaceful. No conflagration.” This news would make Helena happy: meltdowns at bedtime were common. Christina was often fearful of some unspecified something that would happen overnight, and she was never clear on whether it would be a good something or a bad something, just something, of which she would be unaware.

Helena did, in fact, smile her relieved “Christina is fine for tonight” smile. “Did she wear you out completely? Or might you stay for a glass of wine?”

“Weird way for you to end your date. A drink with the babysitter?” Trying to sound normal. Like the friend she was.

“Better than the date. No, that’s too callous. It was fine. But it wasn’t anything.”

Myka had the drink. Just the one, slowly, as they sat and talked about what Christina would have deemed “boring things”... but Helena had two. And a half. She was eyeing the bottle like she might be inclined to head for it again, so Myka said, “I really should go.”

Helena said, “Should you?” Myka wanted (wanted so much) to make of that what she was pretending she didn’t want to make of it, but she determined instead to make nothing of it. No one should make anything of what anyone said when they’d had a couple of drinks at the end of a long week. And at the end of a failed date, she reminded herself, then cringed at the pleasure she took in knowing that it had failed. Whatever this is, stop.

Standing by the front door, Helena gave her a vaguely unsteady half-hug, a clasp of her left arm around Myka’s shoulders. Myka didn’t want to not reciprocate—trying now to act normal, like the friend she was—so she let herself move her own left arm fully around Helena’s waist, allowed herself to rest her hand for just the press of a second on Helena’s hip.

For that press of a second, Myka leaned close and inhaled against the sharp sweet angle of Helena’s cheekbone. For that press of a second, a slide to a kiss was a warm looming certainty; then the second passed, and it was a receding dream. Myka released Helena’s body and said, “I’ll see you Monday.”

*

NOTE: I’d say “TBC,” but since I don’t know whether this will ever function as part of a larger piece, I’ll leave it as a little misfit story-island. You know B&W will find their way to each other; they’re just not quite connecting, in that “this friendship means everything to me and I can’t stand the idea of blowing it” way, on both sides. Anyway I’m not sure who these characters really are, other than coworkers and friends (who clearly need to be something more); plus there’s a gaping hole where a plot should be. Why are these people here? What are they doing? Should any reader care? I have no idea. Again, here is what matters: vote vote vote for Joe Biden and Kamala Harris and Democratic Senate, House, and local candidates.

[mothdalf]

DAY TWO: Findis and Írimë Lalwen

@finweanladiesweek​

So this mainly focuses on the relationship between Findis and Fëanor rather than Lalwen but I’ll get to her later in the week.

Pics in order are:

Fëanor and baby Findis, Findis finally snapping at Fëanor, Findis and Lalwendë, and Findis gathering herbs for Estë in the Gardens of Lorien. 

I’ve put todays rant under the cut but I’d recommend reading it because it really gives the pictures context.

As mentioned in my previous post Fëanáro is like the equivalent of a pre teen (like 10-12) when Finwë marries Indis, and he elects to travel for his studies rather than living with them full time.

He is a young teen when he gets a letter to tell him that he’s going to be a brother, and to say that he takes it badly is putting it mildly. He’s crushed. He’s been angry that his father is (at least in his mind) trying to replace his mother, but now he’s going to replace him? So he doesn’t send a letter back and throws himself into every distraction because he’s going to make damn sure that he’s better than anyone his father tries to replace him with.

Finwë turns up and half begs half drags him home in time to meet his sister the baby. He doesn’t want to and turns up to the nursery (not his old one) in his traveling clothes before being promptly turned around and told to put on something clean at least.

He plans to give a quick glance into the crib (also not his) and a curt “congratulations” before returning to his room to sulk. But it doesn’t pan out like that.

Because his new sister is perfect. Not that Fëanor has been around many children but he’s sure that she must be the most perfect one ever.

Later he will try and rationalise this to himself by pointing out that she’s so different to him that she could never be a replacement. For one, she’s a girl, he’s still his fathers only son, but even aside from that; she has green eyes and golden hair and long Vanyar ears. Nothing like him. Not a substitute. There can be enough room for them both. That’s why he likes her.

Whatever the reason, she’s beautiful, every tiny detail from her fluffy golden hair to her grasping, miniature fingers. So what he says is more of a strangled “wow” after a long pause.

Indis asks if he would like to hold her and sees a beaming smile on Fëanor’s face that she never thought would be directed at her.

He hesitates at first because he realises he’s faced (for the first time in a long time) with something he doesn’t know how to do. But Indis points him to a chair and places Findis in his arms, hands gentle as she positions them.

He coos to her instinctively and she squirms and wiggles and blinks up at him. That’s the moment Fëanor decides he’s going to have kids of his own someday, as many as possible.

Indis is surprised when he breaks the silence and addresses her “well done,” he says without looking up “she’s wonderful, perfect”

The phrasing is a little strange but Indis understands; he’s complimenting her on craftsmanship, for all their differences he’ll always acknowledge that.

It’s quiet again until someone comes to call him away for supper. Fëanor kisses Findis’ head before passing her back and, almost shyly, asks if he can come back to see her later.

So Findis spends the first few years of her life with an adoring big brother. He sends her gifts from his travels, or things he’s made, and dotes on her when he’s home.

Everything is great for a while, so no one is worried when Finwë and Indis announce they’re expecting their second child, not even Fëanor. But things don’t work out that way.

This post isn’t about Fëanor and Fingolfin though.

Fëanor gets distant. His vitriol for Fingolfin doesn’t extend to Lalwen and Finarfin but neither does his soft spot for Findis.

For her part Findis struggles with the tension. When she’s older her parents explain the situation, her heart aches for her big brother. She loves all of her siblings and she hates the atmosphere so she spends most of the time playing peacekeeper. She thinks it’s ridiculous for someone older than her to have such a problem with a child, especially one she herself loves so much. It’s much better when Fëanor is away, but she misses him.

So like her mother in looks and temper, Findis is composed and calm and shoulders the burden of trying to keep them all happy.

Fëanáro is now a young adult and an apprentice under Mahtan, so he’s not around that much, but when he is the fights are always the same. This time however something he says clicks for Findis.

“So that’s it, the reason you hate him and like me? Because he’s a threat and I’m not? You only like me because you’re glad I wasn’t a boy! I wasn’t important enough to be a problem for you!”

Fëanor being Fëanor it devolves into a screaming match. It ends with Findis swearing to show him how much of a threat she can be. She’s going to be better than him at something one day, just you wait and see.

She tries for a long time to find that something. It’s never going to be any craft with her hands and they’re pretty evenly matched musically, so she tries politics, that should really make her a threat.

Findis reads everything she can from the library, asks her father 100 questions a day, attends councils and meetings. She learns a lot, planning to catch Fëanor out one day, call him out for something in front of the council, actually oppose him. Only that day doesn’t come. Fëanor hasn’t quite gotten to the point that we know he’ll eventually reach, so Findis can’t find anything to actually oppose him on at the moment. Frustrated, and getting more bored by the day, she draws back from politics.

Around this time Indis is planning a trip to visit the Gardens of Lorien (read, Miriel), and asks her eldest to come with her, lightly hinting that it will be good for her to get away.

It’s during this trip that Findis finds exactly what she wants to do. She sees how happy her mother is to be able to be close to Vaire again (see my last post about how Indis is a devotee of Vaire) and starts to seriously consider doing the same. Fëanor would never do that.

But when she sees the Maiar and Elven devotees of Lorien and Este, the (admittedly very few) tired or injured people finding rest and care and peace there, she knows in her heart that this is for her. Findis will be a healer.

She goes to Este immediately to apply to join her followers.

Este denies her. She has no more knowledge or experience of healing than the basic studies of her youth. Yes, the work they do here is usually routine and calm, but before devoting her eternal life to it, Findis should really try to think whether healing is for her. Can she handle injuries? Blood? Has she ever seen someone in pain? Really in pain? Not a younger sibling tripping and grazing their knee, but a hunter thrown by a spooked horse? A smith burned in the forge? Did she watch her mother give birth to her younger siblings? Did she hear the screams?

She hasn’t, Findis acknowledges, but she’s more than willing to learn.

She journeys home to Tirion without her mother to begin her studies. She starts at the bottom, back to reading books she can barely understand, stubbornly pestering the healers guild with letters until she can find a teacher. She attends lectures and eventually demonstrations with other students, usually far younger, in plain clothes, and most politely pretend that they don’t know who she is. She dissects animals and identifies what she sees. Bundles all of her scrolls and papers and books on politics into a cupboard and starts refilling her study with labelled diagrams, notes from lectures, samples of herbs.

The books start to make a lot more sense.

For some time each year she visits Estë again, just as a volunteer. She also visits Valimar and Alqualondë to learn from healers outside of the Noldor.

She starts to practice, assisting more experienced healers, in between lectures.

She joins a healer on a trip to the forest of Oromë; and returns with no fear of blood or broken bones, unbothered by a piercing arrow wound or the black bruises of a kick from Nahar.

There’s a drive in Findis now that was never there for politics, she’s all but forgotten that this started as a way to stand out against her brother. There’s a burning passion and a satisfaction to what she does. Her mother smiles and says that it’s the Noldor blood coming through.

Findis starts to come into her own with herb-lore and medicines. She commandeers an area of the palace gardens for medicinal plants. Writes report after report, learns to administer what and when and how. She’s almost settled on this as her focus when she is asked to assist her current supervisor with the birth of a baby.

She knows the theory. She’s recommended certain herbs and supplements to expecting mothers. She has vague memories of her younger siblings just after they were born. But this is different. This is her focus. So she switches track, asking questions of her tutors and colleagues. Requesting to assist with births wherever she can. She seeks female healers, midwives, and the input of her mother and her friends with children of their own. She makes notes and studies of their experiences.

Findis excels. Eventually becoming a healer in her own right. Only then does she approach Estë again. For something special this time. Yes, she appeals to join Estë’s devotees, but she wants to keep her focus on women, and pregnancy, and birth. She learns even more now, the Noldor passion propping her up as she learns that Vanyar ways of healing song from the Ainur.

Often, she visits the body of (Auntie) Miriel. She asks for stories of her fading from those in Lorien, seeks the insight of Estë, Irmo, and Nienna, and finally questions her parents. Piecing things together, she reaches out to other mothers- those who she attended at birth, her friends, those whose children she’s treated. She asks them about their experiences, asking them to be honest, to fear no judgement and feel no shame. Did they ever feel as Míriel did?

Some did, some didn’t. Either way she assures them that they are not alone. Over years she builds notes and papers and case studies as she works and follows her path in the Gardens of Lorien.

Findis becomes revered and respected for her work.

One day she gets a letter from her brother, he’s heard about her work, inspired by his mother. He asks if he could read it, so she invites him and Nerdanel to Lorien, so that he can read her papers. When they arrive it’s clear why he wants to do this now. Fëanor is afraid that his wife will share his mother’s fate at the birth of their first son.

Before they go home they get a lot of assurance, a list of recommendations, and signs to watch out for, all courtesy of Findis and her research. She promises to be there if they have any questions, and to assist in the birth personally.

Her brother embraces her for a long time before he leaves. He tells her how grateful he is for her help, how much more peacefully he will sleep now. Fëanor has never been happier that his sister out did him at something, and Findis has never felt less competitive. Healing, she thinks, is about always learning and getting better. Smithing, she supposes, is much the same.

[nymphigeon]

From me, to you || 01

♤ Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

♤ Genre: fluff, angst, romance, hybrid au, hybrid!Taehyung, detective!reader

♤ Words: 2.1k

♤ Rating: PG-13

♤ Warnings (for this chapter): swearing, crime, a sex club, mentions of murder, blood, mentions of hybrid abuse, mentions of drugs, mentions of the mafia.

Synopsis: A story in which he has never known love, so you'll give it to him.

Series masterlist

01 02

The weather has been terrible lately. The summer heat has been replaced by cold days full of rain and wind. The sky is constantly grey with now and then a flash of light caused by the thunderbolt that decided to say hi. Leaves have turned brown, dying as the trees don’t have the resources to take care of them anymore.

The flock of people on the streets has all but disappeared, giving shops an opportunity to adjust their opening times. Animals feel the need to hide away more and leave to their homes underground or high up. Some even completely move to places where the sun shines brighter. Of course, because where the sun shines there is warmth.

Now sometimes autumn is associated with warm chocolate milk in front of the fire place wrapped up in a blanket. A slow song is playing in the background on low volume while you’re playing cards on the floor, or well most likely on a rug. Seated comfortably, your back against the sofa and your knees raised, nicely cuddled up into yourself, or perhaps someone else.

The sound of rain hitting the windows acts as a lullaby during your time inside. And if you do forcefully need to get out for a short time, the pleasant petrichor will softly welcome you. Or maybe this sounds more like winter? What does it matter, both seasons are cold.

At the time mother nature decided to shift it’s warmth to other places on earth, a thick layer of unease seemed to settle over the city. Like all the fun the sunrays brought were traded for despair. Awfully noticeable in how the amount of cases for the local police have risen dramatically.

People are staying at home so everyone who was hired during the busy summer has to be fired. There is too much staff otherwise. People in this particular town already aren’t the richest in the world, imagine what happens when employment rates drop.

Crimes have been a regular subject for the news. The few that did go outside, now stay at home out of fear. Curtains closed, lights out, please don’t enter my house. Or curtains opened, lights on, there is someone at home.

Most offenders have yet to been caught. Everyone is your enemy now. Don’t trust the neighbour who came home late last night. The sound of your glass falling is the window being broken. I’m calling the police.

While jewellery is being stolen at one side, someone will use the opportunity of the police being busy to kill the innocent. Or maybe they didn’t pay back the money they got from some sketchy dude in an alleyway down the street. Not so innocent anymore.

The only workers making bank at the moment are those with a career in law enforcement. Oh and those criminals were talking about. That includes hybrid dealers and unlicensed sex clubs.

When my boss called me to work, I didn’t expect to hear about a hybrid deal gone wrong inside said unlicensed sex club. Just for your information, treating hybrids like slaves has been long forbidden. You can own them, show off your wealth all you want, but the instant you hurt the half-animal you can see your money out the door. In return, you can expect expensive fines and imprisonment. At least that’s what is supposed to happen.

Still a blind eye is often turned to incidents involving hybrids by both the general public and law enforcements. You can also be fined for not turning in the information you have of a possible abuser, but say that’s also ignored, there is no other law backing the poor hybrid up.

The laws were originally established because the half-animals are also half-humans, created by some crazy scientist who perished years ago. Some rogue failed experiment turned on him. A warning for humans not to take in wild animal hybrids, not that anyone listened. Those wild animal hybrids are sometimes worth more money than the diamond necklace your mafia-boss husband got you.

The second I agreed to meet my colleagues at the crime scene I was hung up on, the beeping tone at my ear notifying me. I love the work I need to do, but I hate the people involved. It pays the bills though, so you won’t see me complaining. I get my stuff together and head out the house. It’s dark outside, raining too. The darkness might be explained by the fact that it’s 11 pm at night. Not the greatest time to be out. Luckily my job has provided me with a car, so you won’t see me walking.

During the ride the radio plays reports of different crimes throughout the city. Some happened at the exact same time, others had no connection whatsoever, yet they ended up being executed by the same group. Tv shows like CSI have been stuffing these sinners with the confidence to rob a place. The average criminal is luckily stupid enough not to know these shows don’t show the entire picture. However, that didn’t make them any easier to catch according to this radio report. On the other hand, what radio stations don’t know is that police won’t show them the entire picture either. Well they’re just there to spread panic, fact checking isn’t a job requirement.

The rain makes the view basically non-existent. Coming down like the angels are just throwing buckets of water over our heads, everything in the distance is blurry. Or maybe they just drank a lot, who knows. Weather reports have been warning for slippery roads, albeit I think they forgot to mention anything about nature made swimming pools outside of our houses.

Seeing as there is nothing good to report on the news they might as well downplay everything to give viewers their daily dose of good news. There is no good news though, and pretending that there is, is dangerous. Hope will only crush future expectations of being safe. Not that they care, they just need high ratings.

Seeing blurry blue and red lights in the distance is my indication that I’m getting close. I’ve never been to this part of town, if I had this so called sex club would’ve already been long gone. Don’t underestimate me, I can sense law breaking acts from a mile away. The fact that I don’t live too far away from addresses where everyone looks to be a drug addict just makes me better at my job.

I park my car next to the others at the side of the road and uncomfortably bend myself to take my bag from the backseat. I do not want to stand in this rain for longer than needed. I mentally prepare myself to get inside as fast as possible. I won’t worry about the sight inside too much, I’m used to it. 

I get out of the car and lock it, before walking over to the barricade tape. The outside of the club looks the same as any other sexual fantasy indulging club. Pink lights and posters of men and women in nothing but flimsy underwear plaster the windows. If it wasn’t for the bunch of officers behind the barricade tape, nobody would’ve known there was somebody murdered inside.

Reporters collect themselves in front of officers close to the tape, trying to get any kind of information out of them. They’re not getting any, so they keep trying, foolishly believing we know any more than they do. Well maybe a little more.

Anyways, without proper investigation we are just as clueless as they are. I’ll applaud their dedication though, as not all reporters have brought an umbrella with them. Imagine getting soaking wet just to ask a few questions. They might not have a raincoat, but they’re all somehow protecting their camera’s one way or another.

As I get closer to the tape blocking outsiders from entering, reporters notice me approaching. If it wasn’t for my uniform they wouldn’t even have batted a lash in my direction. Right now apparently, I’m the most interesting human being on earth. Remembering my trainings I keep my head low and ignore every question thrown my way, until I reach the officer waiting for me.

“Ah, detective Y/F/N Y/L/N, we have been expecting you.” He allows me to duck under the tape, fore shaking my hand and placing a gentle hand on my lower back. The umbrella he’s holding protects me from arriving inside looking like I just had a shower with my clothes on. Like this, I get escorted inside, leaving the flashing camera’s behind me.

“Good evening, Miss Y/L/N.” Another female detective greets me immediately once I step inside. The male officer gives me a nod ere disappearing back into the front garden of the club. Probably going to spend his time listening to silly questions and being blinded by light. At least he might make in on the front page of tomorrow’s newspapers. Maybe he’ll get scouted by some modelling agency just to appear on more front pages.

“David Brown, mid-thirties, and an employee at the club, Mia Labell, 23, both got killed after Brown tried to buy a hybrid of another man we can’t identify from the security footage. Both the hybrid and man wore a hood. We don’t know what went down inside the room as there are no camera’s inside and the walls are soundproof.” The woman, whose name is apparently Blair Miller as shown on the name badge on her chest, explains the situation while she leads me to the room.

“For an illegal sex club they are awfully professional.” I note, having paid close attention to her words. “Well if you don’t want to get outed by a customer I guess that’s the right thing to do. People value anonymity.” I  add as the other female holds up a key card against a control panel to the right of a metal door.

The door slides open after a beep of confirmation. A young girl laying on the large bed in the middle is the first thing I lay my eyes on. The bed sheets are tainted completely red with her blood. Next to the bed lies a man, drowning in a puddle of his own blood. The bodies of the two still look like they could stand up at any moment. “Time of death?”

I walk further into the room, looking around for any other clues I should note. “Approximately 10.38 pm for both of them.” Blair answers, meekly standing in the door opening. “How did they rent the room?” I put on a pair of white latex gloves, before gently expecting the girl on the bed, without moving her from her position. Her hands are tied together, thick ropes cutting into her skin. A gag in her mouth, a blindfold covering her eyes and some lingerie complete the look.

“They wanted one girl for the three of them, paid, then took this room as any other customer would.” Dangerous, there is no way to keep these girls safe. No camera’s, just selling them off to multiple men at the same time. Is there any security around here? The two bodies contain multiple stab marks in their chest and stomach area. There are no signs of any strangling or poisoning. Cause of death for now is bleeding to death, but we’ll have to wait for the autopsy.

“Three?” I don’t look at Blair as I voice my questions. I’m good at multitasking, no need to focus on one thing only. “Mister Brown, the unnamed man and the hybrid.” They rented the girl as normal, then tied her up and proceeded to use the room for their business. Seeing as both died around the same time, the girl was alive during their exchange. We can’t exactly ask her anything right now though.

“How did the culprit leave?” You take a swab from under the fingernails of both bodies, hoping they might have scratched whoever did this. “Leisurely strolled outside the front door with the hybrid on a leash.” The poor hybrid must have witnessed everything. There was never a reason for this to happen. “These two were found by a cleaner going in not even a minute or two later.” It’s not my job to care. It’s not my job to ask either, but I’m not heartless, I am able to feel sympathetic.

“How are they doing?” I look at Blair for this one. Maybe because it’s a different type of question. “Shocked at first of course. They’ve calmed down now.” That makes me feel better. I’ve been doing this for over 2 years, and never will I be able to understand how someone could do this. Then again, the reason for becoming a criminal investigator was not to understand anyway, but to serve, to protect. And protect I will.

[queenjunoking]

Wolf Taming pt 40

CW: Noncon - Pain - Manipulation

Z

I was woken up by a gentle knock at the door. I groaned and reached for my phone. It was six thirty. “Come in!”

The door swung open and a maid walked in, carrying a silver tray. “Good morning, Miss Z. Master Ray- Oh!” She looked away quickly and shook. “I’m sorry, Miss Z. I shouldn’t have looked.”

“What are you on abo- oh.” I looked down and remembered where I was. I never received my suit back last night and I wasn’t going to sleep in the dress. So I had just slept naked. I was surprised the maid made a big deal about it, but I suppose Flora and Rayne probably punished them for anything they could think of. “Whatever, don’t worry about it. What do you want?

She carefully avoided looking at me as she brought the tray over. “Breakfast, Miss Z. Waffles, scrambled eggs, bacon and fresh squeezed orange juice.” She placed it over my lap before removing the cover and taking a step back. “Master Rayne has suggested taking the next hour to prepare yourself as you see fit. In an hour Master Rayne and Miss Molly will be here to speak with you, then you’ll begin your… um… trial?”

“Thank you, you can go now.” She curtsied and left the room. I took a few bites of the food, but I wasn’t very hungry. I rarely ate a piece of toast for breakfast, let alone a meal. I just set it aside and took a quick shower, letting the cold water run over my body for a while.

It helped me get my focus. I was here to get Sasha back. Molly’s group had their reputation on the line. A group getting their reputation tanked was as good as done, no one would want to hire Molly again if they didn’t fulfill their side of the contract in a reasonable amount of time. It guaranteed that Rayne couldn’t play tricks and keep the clock going. It also meant that she thought I could break before I got Sasha back.

Flora’s art was horrid and Rayne wanted me to be the final piece of a collection. It wasn’t as simple as Rayne wanting to watch me suffer for who knows how long, she had to believe it was possible. Flora was going to be disappointed when this ended and I got to go home. That disappointment would turn against Rayne, she hated to disappoint Flora. There was no reason to risk it if she didn’t think it was possible to win.

I set aside the tray and went to take a shower. The cold water helped me collect my thoughts. The next few days would be rough, but nothing I wouldn’t be able to handle. Breaking someone worked best when they had no idea what was happening to them. Every breaker worked differently, but once you could identify what they were doing half of the problem was gone. I wasn’t some damsel being kidnapped off the street this time, I knew what was going to happen to me. I knew there was no point in begging during the process, not that I would. All Rayne’s breaker could do is try their best without being able to build off the fear of their target.

Eventually I turned off the water and dried off, I didn’t have much time left. I exited the bathroom and found some clothes on my bed. Nothing spectacular, just some jeans and a plain shirt. It wasn’t that I wanted something flashy, it just wasn’t something I expected Rayne and Flora to have around. They were always dressed up, Flora in various dresses that probably cost as much as a house and Rayne liked her suits.

I picked up the clothes and examined them. No underwear, but I doubt the breaker would keep me in the clothes I had for long, underwear seemed fairly pointless since it would have probably just been cut off.

I left my room and went to go find Rayne. I wanted to get everything out of the way as quickly as I could so things could start immediately. As I walked down the hallway I looked at Flora’s various pieces of art. Rayne’s game was ultimately to have me join them. A present to Flora

It did, however, make my mind start to wander. What methods would the breaker use? I did everything I could to keep the person I was breaking constantly stimulated and unable to cope. They couldn’t subject me to my methods, the contract required breaks. Fear was a popular option, but there wasn’t much that could be used against me. My fears were intangible, someone couldn’t simply drop spiders into the room and expect me to have a breakdown.

I was expecting pain. Rayne and Flora loved to watch people in agony and they were undoubtedly going to be watching the entire time. They were going to pick someone well versed in causing pain because it's what they would enjoy the most.

It was also the least threatening option. Sure, it would hurt, but they couldn’t maim me in a way that mattered or kill me. The fear of dying during the breaking process could be a powerful factor. It helped make the person you're breaking fall in line. It gave them the instinct to do whatever it took to stay alive. No order should be too demeaning, humiliating or painful to follow. The point of breaking should be for them to not even be capable of considering disobedience as an option. Without that threat all I had to do was weather the pain.

After wandering in the halls for a bit, I finally managed to find a breakfast nook that Rayne and Flora were sitting in. Flora noticed me first and waved. “Good morning, Z. We were going to come up and meet you, but this works too I suppose. How about you sit down.”

She gestured to a third seat at the table and I took it. “So how about we start?”

“Eager, I like that Z, but the contract strictly states when we can start.” Rayne looked over at me and took a sip of coffee. “But we can get the formalities out of the way first. You’ll be meeting the breaker I chose for you in a bit.”

“Another one of your little prodigies?” I might as well indulge Rayne in a conversation, it might help her get to the point.

“Unfortunately, no.” I could hear a touch of annoyance in her voice. “Mercy no longer lives in this region, Melinoë’s talents are useless for this particular task, and Arachne has vanished for the moment.”

“That is unfortunate, I’ve never met any of them before. So who did you manage to find?” A maid came by with a cup of coffee I didn’t ask for and placed it in front of me. I took a sip anyway, I didn’t like coffee but caffeine would be nice.

“I decided to look at the breakers at the Auction house. A few of your old colleagues showed interest unsurprisingly. Jax and Yuki were particularly interested in getting to see you again. Their methods didn’t really fit the bill though. Fear and temperature aren’t exactly helpful for this particular task.” Rayne shrugged and took another sip of coffee.

It didn’t surprise me that Jax and Yuki were interested, we never really got along. They were the prime example of a member taking their theme too far. Jax had gone under extensive body modifications to get jet black eyes and demon horns. His private room was set up like a cave in hell. The temperatures were barely tolerable, being over a hundred at all times. He convinced his targets they had died and gone to hell and once they completed the process they were getting a second chance at life.

Yuki worked on the opposite spectrum. White hair, crystal blue eyes, flowy white dresses. She kept her private breaking room barely above freezing. She studied her victims thoroughly, using knowledge of their lives to torment them as they just tried to keep warm. They’d repeat phrases they were given and list wrongs they had committed so it would sink in that they deserved this. The room would get warmer as they learned to follow rules and answered questions the way Yuki wanted them too. It was to show them how good it felt to follow orders.

It didn’t surprise me that the two started to date when I was about to leave.

“Not interested in leaving someone in a freezer?” There was a kind of surreal feeling talking about what kinds of torture I might have been subjected too for the next few days.

“Talk about boring. No, I made a deal with a new breaker at the auction house.” Rayne smiled and took a bit of her toast. I couldn’t imagine what kind of person new to the auction house would take an offer from Rayne that could backfire so easily. They were either very confident or very stupid. “Come now, Z. Not going to ask who?”

“If they’re new to the auction house then I don’t know them. What use is it for me to ask who they are?”

“My, you were so much nicer yesterday when you were just trying to get what you wanted from us.” Rayne pushed her plate away and looked me up and down.

“Be nice, Raindrop. You were just trying to get what you wanted from her as well.” Flora placed her hand over Rayne’s and looked at her. “Who did you get?”

“I think Z wants it to be a surprise, my alluring azalea. How about I wait to reveal it?” Rayne tipped Flora’s chin up to kiss her, but I could see from here that she was pouting.

“Ahem.” That dry monotone voice broke through the moment. I looked over at the door and saw that Molly was standing there. “Good morning Master Rayne, Lady Flora, Z.” She looked around, probably expecting Briar to be here. She simply shrugged and approached the table. “While the contract has been signed and I don’t have to offer you this opportunity, Lady Flora asked me to give it to you since you signed the contract so quickly.”

“And what offer is that?” I looked up at Molly. Her voice was making me feel tired, a feat in itself. She should record audiobooks for people to listen too at night.

“You have one chance to back out of the deal without penalty. The paperwork will be disposed of and it’ll be like this never happened. No evidence will be left behind.” She placed the paperwork back down in front of me to look through, but I just handed it back.

“I’m here to get Sasha back. I’m not backing out.” I glared at Molly, the offer felt insulting.

“Very well.” She pushed her glasses back up her face. “If you would, a maid will escort you to the room you will be spending most of your time in. Everything will begin in ten minutes.”

A maid walked up, curtsied, and signaled for me to follow her. I got up and started to leave without saying another word. Unfortunately Rayne still had more she wanted to say.

“You’ll have to excuse my breaker if they’re a little overeager. I promised them your epithet when they break you. You won’t be needing it once you’re part of Flora’s collection.”

{&}

I had expected Briar to meet me at some point, but she was nowhere to be seen. The maid stopped in front of a door and stepped aside, gesturing for me to go inside. I looked around one final time before I entered. It was probably too much to assume Briar would actually stay, she had nothing to gain by helping me.

The room I stepped into was clinical. White tiles on the floor and the walls. It would be easy to clean them of any blood spilt in here. I saw a few stations set up already. I saw a wooden horse with weights and shackles next to it. Areas for a strappado bondage setups. There was scattered bondage equipment from gags to cattle prods and everything in between.

The room was kind of a mess if I had to be honest. No coherency in aesthetic unlike most breakers. Whoever Rayne hired seemed to be into generic torture instruments. It was unsurprising, it was the only real option on the table to have a chance of winning.

“Good morning, Z.” A cheerful voice came across the room. I watched a blond haired woman walk into the room. She wore her hair in a ponytail and was slightly taller than me. “It’s nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you from the auction house. Despite everything I’m going to be doing to you, I want you know its an honor that I get to be the one who finally breaks the Torturer.”

“And you are?” I decided to brush her off. It wasn’t my problem that she seemed to want acknowledgement.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before looking at me. She probably had a short fuse if asking who she was was enough to push her off balance. “My name is Mistress Sonja. Soon to be Mistress Sonja the Torturer. It has a certain ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“I’m sure someone like you would think so, Sonny.”

“It’s Sonja and what is that supposed to mean?” She was already getting frustrated. It would work out best for me if she was. If all she did was inflict pain then she could only do so much at a time. It would be good for me if she went overboard quickly and was forced to have to stop early.

“Miss Z, Mistress Sonja, it is now Eight.” Molly’s voice filled the room. I looked up and saw what was obviously one way glass about a floor up. It was probably to give Rayne and Flora a good view of whatever happened in here on a daily basis. “Our team will now start working to get your slave back, Z. Sonja, you may begin.”

Sonja took a crop off of a nearby table and started to walk towards me. She had a smile on her face I was familiar with. The smile of a person who didn’t get what the point of this process was. Someone who enjoyed it for the wrong reasons.

“So, Z.” She placed the end of the crop under my chin and tried to push me head up a bit, but I didn’t budge. “Hmph. How about you be a good girl and let’s just get started. What do you think is more fun, a hundred lashes or a ride on the wooden pony?”

She really didn’t understand how this was going to work.

I smiled at her, took a step back, then thrust my knee into her gut as hard as I could.

[songfell-ut]

Chapter 10, one month in!

Man, I might actually finish this. Link here and @lostmypotatoes remains great.

This one mostly features Frisk having enough of everyone’s shit.

When Sans had composed himself enough to leave the wallpaper behind, he found Dr. Serif double-checking the paperwork while Frisk rustled around in her dressing room. As soon as she emerged in her black dress, the doctor said, "I have a request, Sans. When you escort Snowdrake home, I'd like you to stay in human form. Two monsters going anywhere without an owner will attract too much attention, especially near the border, and we should see whether your disguise can fool another monster. Do you think you can masquerade as a human who is using Sans' magic?"

Sans didn't like the idea – in fact, he completely hated it – but he was in the mood to think before he spoke, and the more he did, the more it made sense. "Yeah, I guess. If I told 'im who I was, he'd probably think I'd been brainwashed or somethin'. Everyone would be weird about it when I got home."

"Exactly." The royal sorcerer rolled the papers back up and placed the scroll on the edge of the table. "Does Sans need to bring the deed to the house with him in case he's questioned, my lady?"

"No, I've written a note and put my seal on it. Here's a map with the house marked, and I also have an insignia he can carry." The priestess went to a little nook by the fireplace, glanced at herself in the mirror, and opened a drawer full of odds and ends. "Where is...ah." Frisk pulled out a leather armband. "This will identify you as the High Priestess' personal agent. I don't use it often, but anyone you speak to should recognize it."

Sans had retrieved his silver chain from the bedroom. He looped it around his neck, put the smaller items in his overcoat, and accepted the armband, admiring the patterns of tiny white and red crystals worked into the leather. "Spiffy. So, if anyone asks me who I am an' where I'm takin' Snowdrake, I can tell 'em to shove it?"

"You will not tell anyone to shove it." He winced at her tone—yep, she was still mad at him. "Furthermore, please remember your fortune. No matter what happens, unless it is absolutely the only way to keep yourself and Snowdrake safe, I don't want you to kill anyone." She swept an errant lock of hair behind her ear, voice softening. "Please, Sans."

The boss monster's SOUL fluttered. He looked down at the armband, which was more of a wristband at his human size. "Fine," he said, trying to sound careless. "I'll talk first, only kill 'em if they really, really bug me."

"Sans!" He'd forgotten that Frisk had the lungs to roar like a miniature hurricane. "Do you care about anything but yourself and what you want to do? If you kill anyone and you cannot come back here and look me in the eye to tell me why it was necessary, I don't want you to come back at all! Do you understand?!"

Sans was speechless. As her echoes bounced off the corners of the room, he not only couldn't think of what to say, it felt like the magic comprising his vocal cords had evaporated.

Into the silence fell the sound of someone rapping on the double doors. Frisk whipped on her veil and headdress, allowing the bemused Dr. Serif to get up and admit two armed guards.

Between the men drooped a birdlike, half-grown monster roughly four feet tall, ice forming on the chains around its neck and feet. Without preamble, the priestess snapped her fingers at the guards and said, "Remove his bonds. Now."

The shorter guard coughed as Snowdrake shrank further back. "He is secured with the commonest type of lock. Your Ladyship will doubtless possess the key already," the guard mumbled.

Though her features were obscured by the veil, the High Priestess' body language was so expressive of absolute wrath that the men swallowed and gripped their weapons tighter. Without turning her head, she said to Sans in measured, glacial tones, "Get rid of those chains."

"As milady wishes," Sans said cheerfully, raising his left hand. The guards didn't notice the red mist surrounding the collar or shackles, but they did see the metal burst into fragments; the men nearly wet themselves as the rest of the chains fell off the startled drake.

"Leave us," ordered Frisk, and they were happy to obey, one pausing to grab the scroll and the other nearly running out the doors ahead of him.

Snowdrake's beak fluttered open, but he shut it and cringed as Frisk reached for his neck. "That's Sans' magic," whispered the young monster. "How'd you get him?"

Frisk placed her hand on his head, feeling him tremble. "He's unharmed, and he's given us his magic in order to help return you to the Underground." She brushed the last few links off his feathery neck, trying to avoid the half-healed scabs where the collar had rubbed him raw. "I am not your new owner, Snowdrake. You're going to be free."

The ice monster's eyes darted between her and the two men. "Yes, my lady," he said woodenly.

The poor kid. Sans knew exactly what it was like to be at a human witch's mercy and having to hear that kind of crap. Only the knowledge that she wasn't lying and Snowdrake would be home soon kept Sans from dropping the disguise right then and there.

"My guard will escort you as close as he can to the entrance to the Underground," Frisk told Snowdrake, then looked at Sans. "You shouldn't have trouble, but if you run into poachers, I'm giving you full authority to protect yourselves through non-lethal means. Is that understood?"

Sans nodded. To his surprise, Dr. Serif cleared his throat. "I think you had better take this as well. Consider it repayment." He produced yet another brooch from his robe, this one large and faintly pink. Sans wondered irritably how many of them he still had. "If you use this to supplement the magic you already possess, you can make the journey in a few easy stages. Pace yourself, and do not hurry back." He sat down as Sans put the brooch away. "Several people in the plot against Her Eminence have already been detained. We will maintain a watch in case anyone else involved decides to strike before they're discovered, and I will personally check on her throughout the day."

"Indeed," said Frisk. "Please take your time."

Holy shit, that hurt. The boss monster plunged his hands into his pockets to avoid breaking anything. "Breakfast should be here in a moment," the priestess went on, "and as soon as you've—" Right on cue, there was another knock at the door. "—both eaten, we'll pack something for you to take with you."

Sans tried to catch her eye, but she went back to the office as the servant unloaded the trolley. Snowdrake made no move to eat until Sans put a plate down and told him, "Go for it," at which the ice monster almost literally dove in. There was no telling the last time he'd had enough to eat, so Sans didn't ask, letting Snowdrake devour nearly everything and gulp down all the milk.

Fortunately, there was a bundle of apples and sandwiches sitting on the bottom of the trolley, along with three flasks of water and one of cider. "I ordered extra provisions. You'll need to keep your strength up," said Dr. Serif, waving away Sans' muttered thanks. He checked that Snowdrake was done, then called, "They're leaving, my lady."

Frisk reemerged, still veiled. "The best of luck to you both," she said.

Sans picked up the bundle, tucking it under his arm. "Sure, boss. See you when I get back." He jerked his head at Snowdrake, who was peering up at him, eyes half closed. "C'mon." Sans shouldered the doors open for the smaller monster to trudge through; a second later, the guard outside made a squeaky sound that indicated Sans had teleported them away.

The priestess sank into a chair, shoulders slumping as she pulled off her headdress. Dr. Serif cleared his throat. "You look as though you need more rest, Your Eminence. Unless, of course, you'd like to talk about your—"

"No. Thank you," she said, loud and sharp. Frisk picked up a fresh stack of letters, sorting them into different piles according to the wax seals or lack thereof. "I have a great deal of correspondence to catch up on, and I'll be very dull company for the next several hours. I'm sure you also have a great deal of work to do—have you started drafting your proposed specifications for the first set of solar arrays?"

"Yes, my lady. In fact, I've scheduled a meeting later this morning with several of my colleagues to discuss the matter. I'll be back this afternoon, but if you need anything at all in the meantime..."

"Thank you," she said again, a little more calmly. "I also must thank you for your help earlier with Sans. Did you figure out why he was acting so strange? I can't believe he grabbed me like that! I don't know what he could have been thinking."

The doctor made a wry face at her back. "I'm not sure how it happened, my lady. I don't believe he intended to become inebriated, but that is certainly what he was." He paused. "I will also keep you apprised of developments in Fernand's interrogation. Your Eminence will be glad to know that Lord Owen has been cleared of suspicion, more than adequately."

Frisk  looked daggers at him. "Has he?"

"Indeed," he said gravely. "The moment his friend was arrested, Lord Owen volunteered to answer questions under hypnosis. He was tested beforehand for any magic with which he might have resisted or subverted the procedure, which ensured his answers were completely truthful. He is guiltless, and can offer no further information."

She nodded, returning to the next stack of letters. Why did she feel just the tiniest bit disappointed?

It was no use pretending. In her too-honest, very tired mind, she knew exactly why: it would've been the ideal excuse to reject him and find another suitor for her "adequate" future. It wasn't at all nice, but facts were facts. No matter how much she wanted to be married, having Luke  as a husband would be like sleeping with her brother!

So, that just left...who?

The doctor coughed theatrically. "Before I go, my lady..."

Something made Frisk look up at him. Dr. Serif gave her a brief smile, and said with unusual delicacy, "With no intrusion intended or opinion attached, I beg that you inform me if and when you wish to safely dispose of your box. Whatever may be inside it, I assume there is magic involved, and throwing it away without the proper precautions may have consequences."

Frisk picked up an envelope and hissed between her teeth as she felt the paper slice her thumb. "I understand, Doctor. Good day to you."

He half-smiled. "And to you, my lady." When she looked up a moment later, he was already gone.

~

If Frisk had ever had a more miserable day as High Priestess, she didn't want to remember when. She hadn't just been trying to get rid of the royal sorcerer; she really did have a pile of mail to get through. The only attention she paid to the proposals was to make a stack of rejects, maybes, and actual prospects. Then she threw the maybes into the reject pile. Then she had to literally grab her own wrist to keep from dumping the entire basket into the fireplace—if she was destined to either marry Lord Owen or hop right into bed with someone unmarriageable, why bother wading through any of these?

A small, flat package at the bottom of the stack puzzled her until she opened it and several bookmarks fell out. Right: she'd ordered them when Sans got after her one time too many for her uncouth reading habits. She could fold all the pages she wanted today, Frisk tried to tell herself, but it just made her wish he was here to tell her to leaf them alone or mark his words. When she got another paper cut, she started to ask him to heal it for her, only to realize she was speaking to an empty room. She had to make do by washing her hands and applying tiny bits of ointment that came right off when she picked up more envelopes.

Just before lunch, Frisk told herself she'd earned a break and went in to flop on the enormous bed. Would Sans be back tonight? If he wasn't back by evening, should she go ahead and sleep in here, knowing he could come back inexplicably drunk and try to cuddle her again?

...She couldn't shake the idea. Technically, she should be scared at the idea of a ten-foot monster with no inhibitions invading her space when she was most vulnerable, but...she wasn't. Not remotely. In fact, her imagination was running with it so fast that she couldn't catch up, much less stop it. Frisk actually had to remind herself that Sans was a skeleton, only for her self to remind her that there were approximately two hundred creative ways around that particular deficit. Ah, well. It was all stupid, harmless tired-brain fantasy about someone she was comfortable with, not as if she was going to marry him or anything...

This was ridiculous. It had only been a few hours, and she was still furious with him, but she missed Sans so much that she could barely function.

There was another knock, and the priestess scowled as she got up to put on her veil and answer the outside door. To her surprise, it was Luke, holding a tiny velvet jewelry pouch out to her. "Good morning, Your Eminence," he said as she pasted on a smile. "Forgive my intrusion, but I came to return this in person."

Frisk opened the drawstrings and pulled out her pearl bracelet, the one he'd removed so the parrot wouldn't destroy it. "Oh. Thank you," she said automatically. Luke waited for more, and she glanced behind her. "I am sorry, Lord Owen, but you've caught me in the middle of decanting. The fumes will be potentially harmful once the mixture has heated, so..."

"It's quite all right. I didn't intend a long visit," he assured her. "I wanted to ask if you've had a chance to look over the contact information I forwarded to you."

Thank God she had found his note in her mail, or else she wouldn't have remembered the farmland at all. "Yes, I have, thank you," she replied. "I'll send your broker an inquiry with the name of my banker. Shall I inform you when I hear back from her?"

"If it's quite convenient, yes, please." The young lord shuffled his feet, as if he was suddenly uncomfortable about something. "Fr—Your Eminence, may I ask if any of the rumors about the All Souls festival are accurate?"

The guard at her door had been doubled, and she couldn't help noticing how both of them were waiting to hear her answer. "Forgive my bluntness, Lord Owen, but I don't know what you're talking about. I have no time for ridiculous gossip," she almost snapped.

"Yes, of course, of course. I'm the one who must beg forgiveness. I'm sure you would never..." Her stare intensified, and he hastened to say, "The last reason I've trespassed on your time is that I am preparing to visit St. Brigid's. I'll be leaving early tomorrow. May I tell Mathilda that you've been well?"

"Absolutely!" Frisk knew this was where she was supposed to ask how his sister was doing in general, how her studies were going, etc. etc., and pass along all sorts of loving messages. But somehow, with her blood still humming and her potential husband right in front of her, and Sans not there to see, she had just one thought: "Could you give her something from me?"

"Yes, of course," he said pleasantly. "What is it?"

Frisk nodded, stepped forward and gave him a quick, decisive hug, careful to get her arms all the way around him before she stepped back. "Please excuse me," she said, "but I haven't seen Mathilda since Christmas, and I miss her very much. I hope you understand."

"Uh..." Luke blinked hard. "Yes, my lady. I'll see her and give her...that. Thank very much, and a good day to you." He bowed vigorously and turned on his heel, speed-walking down the hall in flustered elation.

Ignoring the guards' smirks, the High Priestess went back inside and slammed the doors, removing her veil again. She knew she should be embarrassed or at least care what they were going to say about her, but really, half the city was probably placing bets on who she'd be sleeping with in however many days or hours, so what was one brief embrace?

It was nothing. That was what she'd felt, anyway. Part of her was surprised at her own cold-heartedness, but Frisk knew what had happened when she hugged Sans, and she was certain that no matter how long she snuggled up to Luke, it wouldn't feel remotely similar; if he had put his arm around her, it would've just annoyed her. At least she had eliminated any remaining doubt: Luke could offer her pleasant company, and that was all. Not warmth, or real companionship, or gentleness, laughter, intellectual stimulation, literal attraction...

There went her imagination again. The workroom was still cold from however long Sans had had the windows open, but she had to pick up some papers to fan herself. It was quite a relief when lunch arrived and she could eat Sans' portion to make up for missing breakfast, then retire to the bedroom.

Having spent so much of her early life on her own, Frisk had been shocked when she came to St. Brigid's and discovered that even in a convent, the primary occupation of adolescent girls seemed to be talking about boys, or sex, or any combination thereof. She understood now that they had had very little else to talk or think about, and that being in a strict religious environment meant that there were no other outlets for their perfectly normal teenage curiosity, but those first few months had been eye-opening, to say the least.

To their credit, the sisters were aware of this and knew very well that after the lights went out in the dormitory, the girls would stuff their pillows under their covers to create a laughable illusion of being in bed, crawl to the center of the floor, and whisper to each other until they forgot themselves and laughed too loud at something, which was the cue for the proctor on duty to shout "BED" and send them flying back to their cots. It was probably also why everyone had to undergo a comprehensive sexual education course when they turned fourteen, and of course, the girls who could tell penis jokes for literal hours on end felt quite differently about the matter when an eighty-year-old priestess was passing out textbooks with full-color drawings and scientific labels.

In short, Frisk knew exactly what she was feeling and why. She'd never had the nerve to try anything when she was sleeping in an open room with dozens of other girls and young women, but once she moved into these chambers and found she had nearly unlimited privacy, she had finally availed herself of the opportunity to ignore the Church's teachings on self-exploration. Then she had availed herself of the opportunity a lot, figuring that it was harming no one whatsoever, and that she wouldn't have been given those parts if she wasn't meant to use them. But she hadn't done it since Sans arrived, especially not when they were in the same bed.

Sans was not here now, and she wasted no time, pausing only to throw a quilt over herself before she moved her skirt aside and worked her hand into place. She'd never done this in the middle of the day before, but that added a little excitement; what if she was to take down the barrier against teleportation, and he happened to get back right as she was in the middle of it? That would be just awful. Would he even recognize what she was doing, or would he just—

Another knock. Another fecking knock on the outside door as she was getting this close, and she wanted to burn down the entire castle. Frisk kicked the quilt off, pulled her clothes back into place, and stomped over to her veil and circlet before she threw the doors open. This had better be worth the interruption!

~

Over an hour later, she came back to her rooms with her cluster of guards and, given the general trajectory of the day thus far, was not surprised to find Dr. Serif waiting next to a stack of crates. "Good afternoon," he said. "It seems as if the items you've ordered for your apprenticeship have arrived. Would you like some assistance putting them away?"

Frisk looked at them, and at him, but she could barely speak. "I am overtired, Doctor," she mumbled. "I would appreciate your help, and then I need to rest."

"Of course." The royal scientist opened the double doors and directed the guards to bring the boxes inside while she went to the bathroom to remove her veil and compose herself for a few minutes. It didn't work, but it was long enough for the guards to put everything away and leave, so she only had to worry about the doctor when she emerged.

One look at her was enough. He didn't ask if she was all right, just moved aside a respectful distance as she sat down to check the inventory sheet. "Would you like to talk about it?" he asked kindly.

"No, thank you," she said, voice cracking.

"I understand." The doctor removed the lid from a long box of seedlings and began filling a vial at the sink. "They've found the guard responsible for leaving your door unattended and allowing the assassin into your room. It seems he is affiliated with a local group pushing to decriminalize the retrieval of monsters from the no-man's-land. It should be a valuable link in uncovering more conspirators."

"Excellent. I'm glad to hear it," Frisk said politely, mind still buzzing.

Dr. Serif tipped some water into each seed-bed. "If he avoids detours or anything else he is not supposed to do, Sans should be back late this evening. Don't be alarmed if he takes longer, though. I could easily see him deciding to rush back and overextending himself. He can sleep at your house tonight if need be."

The only sound was water running into the vial and being trickled onto the tiny plants. The doctor glanced at her over his shoulder. "If I may, High Priestess. Please don't go there to wait for him or try to meet him. He should—"

"Get out!"

When the doctor had obediently made himself scarce, Frisk threw her veil on the floor, stormed into the bedroom, and flung herself on the bed for a good, long cry, or at least a long one. It wasn't Dr. Serif's fault that he'd happened to visit right as she was returning from a talk with her father. She hadn't been so angry or humiliated in a long time—of all the people to drag her away from her private time to lecture her about maintaining a good reputation and not sleeping around, why the hell did he think he had the right to do it, especially based on a single stupid rumor? It'd been all she could do not to scream at him that he'd spent his youth screwing his way through most of the kingdom, left her to be neglected almost to death for ten years, and only taken an interest in any of his damn-near-orphans when his second wife died in childbirth and the midwives told him the baby might not survive! How dare he?!

The final nail in the coffin came a few hours later, when she'd finally pulled herself together enough to start writing replies to everything that needed replying to. After many more paper cuts, Frisk was almost done when she heard a knock that she hoped, for the other person's sake, was her dinner.

It was, but it was also another messenger. At least this one wasn't there to take her anywhere, merely to tell her that His Holiness had furnished the records she requested, handing over a folder roughly two inches thick.

Frisk probably should have been glad she could peruse the list of enslaved monsters without Sans hovering over her shoulder, and she was; it was just hard to be happy about much of anything when she was reading all the names and descriptions—she'd felt strongly enough about it when she wasn't remembering how completely beaten Snowdrake had looked, and wondering how many other monsters must be in similar or worse circumstances at that very moment. Her duty now was to go through the list of owners and judge which were probably the absolute worst, and organize inspections as quickly and stealthily as possible.

It all went back to her stupid fortunes. She'd half-purposely led Luke on, and her father had made it very clear that he expected her to make the respectable choice, the hypocritical old goat. The problem was that it was what everyone would expect of her; in the wee hours of the morning, it had felt daring and romantic to contemplate a future where she had a child with a not-husband, but the reality was that it would probably ruin her life, just like her mother's. Frisk was more confused than ever: how could she change the world and free monsters if she did something so socially unacceptable that no one would probably ever speak to her again? But she'd also have new parents and a huge family...how?!

Even if Sans had been a complete idiot at the fortune-teller's table, she wished more than ever that he was here to talk to. Damn Dr. Serif for reading her thoughts so easily. There was still the brooch he'd given her a couple nights ago, but she wanted to save it for a real emergency; besides, it wasn't as if she could do much to help Sans if he simply needed to rest before coming back to the castle...assuming he was coming back.

Frisk shook herself. There was no reason to believe that at all! She had to think more constructively. Wasn't there some way to communicate w—ah, yes, he was able to speak to Papyrus in dreams. She had joined him fairly easily the time she'd tried it. If she took down that barrier again...

...then the child could get in. But Sans wasn't here. Could it make her hurt him in a dream?

That was when Frisk officially gave up on thinking, or working, or doing anything else for the day. It was already after sunset, so she folded up the registry, instructed the guards not to let anyone disturb her unless something was actively on fire, and went to run a bath. Her mind didn't clear much, but it did help relax her, even if she was still too tense to pick up where she'd left off with herself. She put on her fuzziest nightgown, whisked the barrier away and built up a fire in the bedroom, then made a warm nest of blankets and settled herself to sleep, leaving her mind cautiously open.

~

She woke a little as the bed creaked beside her. She grumbled under her breath and turned away from him, pulling the covers up.

Undeterred, he ducked beneath the covers and draped himself over her side. His hard, smooth fingers caught on her hair as he pushed it out of the way to nuzzle her neck. It was a good start, but he must have been tipsy: she yelped as his nasal bone jabbed her. "sorry," he murmured.

That should've been that; she graciously permitted him to stroke her hair as an apology, and settled back down to sleep.

She should have known better when he started petting her back and down her side, and then rubbed her leg, knowing very well that she'd sleepily turn toward him so he could pet the other one, too. Then came a soft, warm touch on her neck, his hands sliding under her nightshirt, and her nightshirt creeping up as he eased his weight onto her.

"Really?" she tried to ask, but his mouth was in the way, and he easily caught the hand she brought up to push him off, spreading his fingers to interlace them with hers.

He would have stopped if she'd insisted. She didn't. She—

~

Someone was in her office.

Frisk was not afraid. She was done. She got out of bed with an ache in her groin and murderous resolve in her heart, moving silently through the bedroom and the dark workroom. There was no light showing under the office door, but she could feel ripples through the barrier over her safe as someone dug into the floor around it. With no restraint or remorse, she yanked open the doors and slammed a multi-layered barrier into the room, catching the would-be thief by surprise.

Whoever it was, they were unnaturally strong and agile, nearly catching the edge to squeeze through as it sealed itself off. But it was no use: fueled by angry determination, the barrier snapped shut into a golden sphere, trapping the person inside. The intruder struck at it several times with terrific force, but Frisk held firm until the figure staggered, then fell to its knees, wheezing.

Only then did Frisk click her tongue, dropping the layer that prevented air from getting in, and strengthening the layer that suppressed magic. "Whoever you are, you have ten seconds to explain yourself," she snarled.

A gulping breath. "Please, my lady—"

Frisk was so startled that her concentration wavered. The figure took the opportunity to hit the barrier again, and she promptly cut its air off, waiting several seconds before she allowed any back in. The priestess came forward and peered inside. "...Doctor?"

In the barrier's glow, she could see quite well, and though she knew she had him contained, Frisk felt a twinge of fear. It had sounded exactly like the royal sorcerer, but this was not Dr. Serif. It was a monster, a skeleton with a long, eerie face, much more smooth and hollow-looking than Sans or Papyrus. As it straightened, its arms stayed hidden in the folds of its long, ragged black coat, and several disembodied skeletal hands floated over its shoulders. "The man who speaks in hands," she said to herself. No wonder they were supposed to beware him!

The monster's brow creased. "The man who speaks in hands?" he repeated in Dr. Serif's whispery voice. "How very poetic." Cough. "May I ask where you—"

"You may not!" The barrier constricted, nearly brushing the top of his skull. "Who are you?" she demanded.

The skeleton visibly struggled to answer, and finally croaked, "My name is W.D. Gaster. I am a monster who has been posing as a human in order to maintain my post as the royal sorcerer." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "Young lady, what...what is this?"

Frisk sat down on the couch, which had been moved aside to expose the safe. "I assume you mean the fact that you can't lie to me while you're in there. I'm not much good at truth spells, but I figured out how to incorporate one into a barrier, which I am very good at. I just don't use it very often." On some level, she wasn't surprised that Dr. Serif had been hiding something like this, but she was still afraid—had any of his help or kindness been real, or was it all for some unknown, sinister purpose? Would he try to eliminate her now that she knew what he was?

Gaster was staring at her. Above him, both pairs of hands started a slow clap. "I am extremely impressed, Your Eminence. I am also very apprehensive. As a monster, I cannot match your determination, which means you have me at a complete disadvantage. I must commend you."

The priestess was gratified, but knew better than to drop her guard; she could feel him subtly testing the weave and span of the barrier with unseen hands. "Stop that," she snapped, and he did, tilting his head to concede defeat. "Were you trying to steal my box?"

"Of course," he said. "I infer that it contains your memories, and it is now common knowledge that the future of this world hinges on what you do with it."

Frisk controlled another stab of anger, though she couldn't stop the barrier from popping and snapping like a bonfire. "And you thought you would...what? Dispose of it without asking me?"

"I don't know exactly what I was thinking," Gaster confessed. "I succumbed to intellectual curiosity as to what distilled memories look like, and whether I could view them without disturbing the physical medium. What I would do with them would depend on their contents."

The barrier was now eye-wateringly bright. "You broke into my rooms when Sans wasn't here, damaged my property, and woke me up from a very good dream because you thought you knew better than me what I should do with my life?! How dare you! How dare all of you try to decide this for me?"

"You are completely correct, my lady, and I apologize wholeheartedly." The monster placed his hand on his chest and bowed from the waist. "I swear that I will not presume to meddle any further."

It sounded sincere, but the old priestess who'd helped her develop this technique had been very emphatic: if someone promised something while under a truth spell, there was nothing to stop them from breaking it once the spell ended. "Why are you here?" she asked. "What are your intentions?"

He managed a chuckle. "As I truthfully told your apprentice earlier today, that is a large question." The monster's hands folded into pairs. "I do not believe you will derive any benefit from my entire story, and that most of it will unnecessarily disturb you. May I tell you as much as I sincerely believe will benefit you, and omit that which is not necessary?"

Frisk bit her lip. "I'd prefer to be the judge of that. Answer me, please: what are your intentions towards me, and Sans, and this kingdom in general?"

Gaster didn't reply. Frisk felt him trying to use some kind of magic similar to Sans' to slip out of the barrier, and she gave one sharp whistle; the skeleton's hand went to his throat as his magic dissolved and the air started to thin again. "Please, stop!" he rasped.

The priestess did so, feeling a tiny bit guilty. That rush of anger was starting to fade, but she knew she couldn't let him manipulate her into letting him go before she was ready. The fact that he had been manipulating her up till now was more than enough to steady her resolve. She crossed her arms and stared him down in silence.

A hand came up to massage Gaster's temple. "All right. I...do not intend to harm anyone. I came here solely as an observer, and have only remained for this length of time in order to rectify my errors." He sighed. "As is so often the case, every attempt I make only compounds the problem, and yet I cannot seem to stop."

Frisk shook her head. "I don't want vagueness or lies by omission, Dr. Gaster. Where did you come from, and on whose behalf are you observing us?"

"I came from a place similar to this one. I lived inside Mt. Ebott, which contained the Underground, home to monsters such as Sans, Papyrus, King Asgore, Queen Toriel...to my knowledge, every living monster I knew currently resides here as well."

The priestess' mouth fell open. "How...?"

He made an impatient sound. "As I said, the majority of this information is not necessary to impart. You can do nothing with the knowledge of another Underground, except for the one or two details that are relevant to you and Sans, which I will tell you if you agree to trust me that you do not need the rest. Do we have a deal?"

She exhaled. "Fine. What are you doing here now? Are you gathering information to bring back to your Underground?"

"I dearly wish that this was the case, young lady, but no. I was expelled from my home in an accident, and I no longer exist there. I have been wandering ever since, looking for another place I might settle into." Another sigh. "I know now that it was not only a vain hope, but a dangerous one."

"Dangerous? How so?"

He grimaced. "I found out the hard way, of course. I thought I was doing the right thing when I transplanted a certain monster from a dangerous environment to a safer one where he was needed. I did not know that the danger would follow."

Frisk's skin prickled. "What do you mean? Please start making more sense."

"Very well. To start at the beginning, I must tell you I am not the first W.D. Gaster to have lived in this kingdom or its Underground. Many, many years ago, when I happened upon this place, I went looking for the first item on my checklist: myself. Unfortunately, when I found him, I discovered that your Gaster was easily one of the cruelest I have seen. He conducted horrific experiments on defenseless subjects, both humans and monsters, and he created new life purely to torment it."

The chill increased as Gaster's face darkened. "I was skilled enough to observe him unseen, and his actions disgusted me. I should have left, but when I saw him murder one of his 'sons,' I grew so angry that I could not stop myself. I killed this world's Gaster, and I tried to save his other creation, but it was too late. I broke my policy of noninterference without any real benefit to anyone." He sat down inside the barrier. "Imagine my surprise when I checked the rest of the laboratory and discovered one copy of the younger skeleton ready to awaken, hardly more than a baby. There was no sign that any other creations had survived. I now had a decision to make."

"The 'younger' skeleton? You don't mean—"

"Yes. He created Sans and Papyrus, and he killed them, knowing he could replace them at any time."

The priestess had to fight the urge to be sick all over the office floor. "Couldn't you have taken his place and tried to undo the damage he caused?"

"That was a definite option, and I was tempted. But this is not my home, and I did not want to stay for much longer. I believe I made the correct choice in that respect."

Now she understood why he hadn't wanted to tell her this. Too late; she had to hear the rest of the story.

"It was quite the dilemma. I could not leave Papyrus on his own, nor could I stay here to raise him, or take him with me. He was too young, and I did not know what might happen if I brought him into another place with another Papyrus. But there was no Sans here to care for him. So..." He closed his eyes, pulling the slashes taut. "I made another well-intentioned mistake."

There was a very long pause. "There are certain variations of time and place that I have seen more frequently than others," he said slowly. "The most tragic is where a very sorrowful and angry SOUL becomes warped into a force of absolute destruction, essentially a demon, and it finds a vessel to connect it to the physical world." His eyes opened. "It kills everything, Frisk. Every monster in the Underground, every human above, until there is nothing left. But the force itself does not die. It finds another place to destroy. And another. And another. The child you have seen in your nightmares is here because it cannot bear the fact that in one place, at one time, there was one monster it failed to exterminate. It has come here looking for him."

All the hairs on Frisk's body were standing straight up. "What exactly happened?"

"I found a place where a Sans stood ready to meet the child on its way to murder Asgore and leave the Underground. He had made a promise not to harm any fallen humans, and that promise bound him until it was too late. As always, he was still going to fight it, knowing that it was futile." Gaster looked at his hands, studying the holes in the palms. "I did not speak to him, or even let him see me. I approached him from behind, rendered him unconscious, and transported him here. I had checked Snowdin and saw that the house in which they usually reside was empty, so I brought them both there, left a supply of food and money, and allowed them to live as usual."

"...But...but doesn't he—"

"This world's practice of memory excision is not a good one, in my opinion, but it gave me the idea to try to...adjust him. I did not remove his memories to save for later if he chose to revisit them: I destroyed them entirely. As far as he or anyone else knows, he has always lived here with his little brother." Gaster looked back up at her. "I wanted to give him a second chance in a place where the demon did not exist, and where circumstances were not likely to replicate its creation. I knew that he might have nightmares as echoes of his past experiences, or even glimpses of other lives, but I had no conception that the child itself would stalk him all the way here."

The barrier wavered. Gaster did not move as Frisk shook herself and hummed it back to full strength. She'd have to process all of this information properly later. For now, next question... "Why did you become the royal sorcerer? Didn't you want to leave as soon as you knew they'd be safe?"

"I did, but I came back periodically to check on them. All seemed well until one visit where I discovered that a group of humans had just visited on a diplomatic mission that ended in violent catastrophe. Imagine my surprise when I examined Dr. Alphys' records and discovered that the Sans I rescued had become a boss monster through imperfectly understood means. It was one of the most anomalous variations in his growth that I have ever observed, and it absolutely fascinated me."

His tone was a little too rapturous for her tastes. "You disguised yourself as a human and became the royal sorcerer to keep a closer eye on Sans?" she asked warily.

"Oh, no, my dear young lady. I did so in order to keep a closer eye on you." Frisk started as the skeleton slowly got to his feet. "In order to affect physical matter, even something as tenuous as a monster's body, the demon must find a host. In the course of observing Sans and his brother, I became convinced that the child was trying to reach him, but it could not attach itself to any of the monsters. Through various means, I eventually tracked it to you, just as you were being considered as a replacement for the murdered High Priestess. Not only did I feel the need to protect Sans from a danger he no longer recalled, I became curious about you."

"In what way?" Frisk couldn't help rubbing her eyes. "Why did it choose me?"

Gaster smiled thinly. "At the risk of threatening you or, even worse, stating the obvious," he said in a different tone, "I would guess that a barrier of this strength and complexity requires a great deal of power, and you are not going to be able to maintain it much longer. I will only be at your mercy for another few minutes at most, after which I could make a serious attempt to break out and potentially injure one or both of us." He took a step forward. "I propose instead that I tell you more about Sans while you still know I am being truthful, and then you release me."

He was right. "If I release you, will you attack me or take any other malicious action against me, now or in the future?" Frisk asked carefully.

"I do not intend you or Sans any type of harm whatsoever, Frisk, now or in the future. I bear you no malice, though I admittedly find being caught in this fashion very irksome."

Frisk would have to be content with that. "Done. What do you want to tell me?"

"That you did not give Sans the opportunity to apologize for his conduct at the festival or the morning after, and you said something fairly cruel before he left. I thought I made it clear that he is not stable and you must be careful how you handle him."

It took a second to recall how she'd told Sans to take his time, and his expression after she did. "I'm not his mother," she argued. "I'm sorry I hurt his feelings, and I'll apologize when he gets back, but even you said I shouldn't be held responsible for his behavior. He's been fairly good at keeping his temper, all things considered."

"He's been good at keeping his temper around you," Gaster said severely. "Did you know that monsters can see the condition of a living monster or human SOUL? I have been monitoring Sans for a long time, as you now know, and soon after he became a boss monster, his SOUL began to darken at a remarkable rate. It was natural for him to accrue EXP as he fought humans to protect his kin, but it is extremely unusual for a single monster to develop such a taste for violence when the rest of the Underground remains unaffected."

Frisk didn't know what EXP was, but she could guess, and time was running short. "What are you saying, Doctor?" she snapped.

"I am saying that I do not know exactly why he is the way he is, and I don't only mean his metamorphosis into a boss monster. No matter what kind of magic he was subjected to, and however his LV grows, it cannot explain why Sans is so very angry. It's so ingrained that it feels deliberate, which I don't understand. Is it vestigial regret from his first life? A heretofore unknown side effect of the accident that spurred his transformation? All I know is that when he was listening to your song yesterday morning, I saw him let go of his accumulated rage for the very first time. When I took another look, it seemed as though several layers of that filth have been sloughed off his SOUL since he came here, though far more remains."

The priestess flushed. It was flattering to think she could affect him that much, but...

Gaster must have seen her skepticism. He sighed so mightily that his entire body settled to the floor, as if he simply couldn't keep himself upright. "You can't seriously—you can." He drew himself back up to his full height. "You may still be hurt by having been previously abandoned by those you cared for, young lady, but what do you need to hear before you understand the current situation? That Sans is deeply in love with you? That he behaved so stupidly at the fortune-teller because he was beside himself with jealousy? That any apprehensions you may have about him deciding not to come back here are laughable at best, and you are the only one who can make him want to return to a happier state of mind and avert the possibility of him hurting innocent people?"

Frisk had specifically been taught not to do what she did next: spring to her feet and bring her fist straight down on the barrier, shattering it like paper-thin glass. "However you got in here without alerting the guards, or waking them," she added darkly, "please see yourself out the same way. Good night, Dr. Gaster!"

In the sudden blackness, his eyes showed as two tiny pinpricks, one yellow and one blue. Frisk made herself meet his terrible gaze and point at the door, and he chuckled appreciatively. "Good night, High Priestess," he murmured. There was a rush of shadow, then an empty room.

The priestess could barely move or think. She felt her knees bend and her hand grope around the space where Gaster had been tunneling into the safe. She removed the barrier, picked up the box, put the barrier back up, got to her feet. Back to the bedroom, another barrier up on the door, and a collapse into bed, pulling the blankets around her. Too tired and too troubled to remember where she had left off...what would she see the next time she dreamed?

More importantly, where was Sans?

~

She was walking over an expanse of sand and scrubby trees that she had never seen before but somehow knew was the no-man's-land, closer to the Underground than to human territory. Her head turned at the sound of men screaming, far off to her left. In the fading light, she saw flickers of magic, a bigger flash, and a sound more awful than screams: silence.

Not total silence. As she approached, Frisk heard a familiar chuckle, but not in a familiar way. This was not a skeleton pleased with his own stupid puns or laughing at her rage when he beat her at chess five times in a row. This was someone standing amidst a pile of broken human corpses, surveying his handiwork and enjoying it.

For a terrified moment, Frisk thought Sans was doing this in the present, or had just done it, and she wanted to scream at him—but no, he was wearing the ragged canvas garments she'd first seen him in, not the wool and linen ones she had given him. If this had ever happened – which felt likely – then he was dreaming of a time more distant than the past twenty-four hours.

She was only about fifty yards away, but he didn't seem to notice her. She tried to call out to him, only for her voice to get stuck as she looked again at the human bodies he was stepping over like rocks in his path. Gaster had been right. Sans really was capable of this, wasn't he? He wasn't the gentle, protective, sometimes-somewhat-sweet-natured skeleton she'd grown fond of. He was a killer.

No. He was gentle and sometimes somewhat sweet, and he was a killer. Frisk couldn't fall into the trap of believing that only one side of him existed, or that only one was "real"; people didn't work that way. She had to talk to the one she knew—he was there, too!

Sans was trudging away. Remembering what Gaster had said, Frisk took a big breath and whistled at him over the empty expanse, using a few bars from this morning's song—she'd often seen him stop what he was doing to listen to it.

Sure enough, he paused. He turned, and his orange eyes focused on her. The flames dimmed just a little. "Frisk?" Sans came closer, skirting the pile of bodies. "'sat really you?"

The priestess held out her hands. Sans reached out to touch her fingers, then recoiled—his hand was spattered with blood. "What are you doin' here?" he asked, voice rougher than usual. "Ya don't wanna see this!"

"No, I don't. But I wanted to see you," she said.

Sans blinked at her. He jerked his head for her to follow him, moving until the grim scene was out of her line of sight. Then he sat down, plunging his hands into the sand to scrub the blood off. "Yer an idiot. Why'd you come after me? I thought ya wanted me t'take my time gettin' back."

Frisk winced. She really had hurt his feelings. "I'm so sorry I said that. I missed you today."

The boss monster swallowed hard. "Fine. Ya saw me." He shook sand off his metacarpals, aiming it away from her. "Look, 'm sorry, too. I embarrassed the crap outta ya at the stupid festival, and I..." He shrugged elaborately. "I dunno what the hell I was doin' yesterday mornin', but whatever happened, I'm sorry."

"It's all right, Sans." Frisk folded her hands behind her back. "Did Snowdrake arrive safely?"

"Yeah. I only saw one nosy neighbor lady at the house, an' I played nice 'n let 'er see the note. She left us alone after that. Didn't see anyone else till we got close enough to the Underground t'let 'im go. Poor little bastard kept thinkin' it was some kinda trick." The skeleton brushed more sand off his femur. "I ran inta some poachers on my way back t'the city, but they didn' have any monsters with 'em, an' they just told me to get lost, so I did."

Frisk smiled. "Thank you. That means a lot to me."

Sans made his usual noises, which just made her smile wider. "How was yer first day off from babysittin' me?" he asked crossly. "Good?"

"It sucked," she said, deadpan, and he snorted. "Seriously, Sans, it was awful. Everyone's heard of my fortunes already, and my father, who has had at least fifteen children that we're aware of, gave me a talking-to about my sexual mores."

The skeleton's eyes were fully alight. "Yer kiddin'. Ya haven't even done anythin'!"

There was the tiniest pause, and lest he add "...Right?" and force her to kill him, Frisk said, "Right. It just reminded me that if I open the box and end up having a child on my own, I'll be an unwed mother. Among humans, that makes you a complete outcast. I wish we were more like monsters, I really do."

Sans was very quiet, in a way that put Frisk on edge. "But, of course," she said with forced optimism, "if I don't open it, I'll get married and be completely boring and respectable for another fifty or sixty years, and just have to live with the fact that I chose not to let monsters go free." Her throat was closing up yet again, and she shook her head. "Why do I have to decide this, Sans? I'm used to being under pressure, but not like this! What am I supposed to do?!"

The boss monster edged closer as she sniffled. "Ya know what you should do?" he asked.

"What?!" It came out nearly as a shriek. "What should I do, Sans? Tell me!"

Sans remained sitting, watching her quietly as she scrubbed her face on her sleeve. "I think you should make a decision an' go for it insteada tormentin' yerself like this. Whatever ya wanna do, it'll turn out t'be the right thing. An' fer what it's worth..." He fidgeted, scowling at the ground. "Whether ya pick the bird guy or...someone else, if ya ever need help, I'll do whatever I can. Heavy lifting, beatin' people up, dumb jokes, whatever. So...quit whinin' and pick somethin'. Flip a coin if ya need to. Just stop hurtin' yerself. Okay?"

Frisk's heart stood still. She looked at him in such a way that he sat back warily. "What? What'd I say?"

"Don't say anything," she said, advancing on him. "And don't get up yet."

"Hey, hey, lady, this's a dream, remember? Ya can't touch m—"

Sans lapsed into stunned silence as Frisk's arms went around his neck and her cheek rested on his clavicle. She leaned her full weight on him and heaved a sigh. "I'm sorry to ambush you again," she said into the space between his ribs. "I just needed to see something." It was the same as before, a wonderfully tingly feeling in her chest that spread through her body until she wondered what'd happen if she moved away too fast. Frisk sighed again, trying to work up the willpower to let go. Somehow, he wasn't as uncomfortable as she would've thought, as if there was a very thin layer of something padding his bony exterior. It just made it harder to—

Sans' arms came up to hold her against him, as he had the previous morning, and neither of them cared that they were so big, they overlapped over her back. His cheekbone rested against her head, careful not to be too heavy. "Whaddya do with yer hair?" he muttered.

It was...not what she'd expected him to say. "Can you elaborate, please?" she muttered back.

"I dunno what smells are what. I think the longer I stay human, the more human-ish stuff I can do, like smell, 'n feel stuff I touch." His phalanges moved softly through her hair. "This doesn't make any sense. Yer not s'posed to be able t'interact with anyone in a dream 'less ya went ta sleep in the same room or somethin'."

"I don't know about you, Sans, but I'm sick of thinking." Frisk stared at a spot of drying blood on the ground behind him. "In fact, you're right. I'm done thinking about this." She squeezed him gently, though she knew she could use all her strength and he'd barely feel it. "Let me go, please. It's time for me to get some real sleep."

"...Nuh-uh."

Frisk laughed. "It's vanilla," she said over his shoulder.

"Hm?" Sans was absently petting her hair again. "Wha's vanilla?"

It was so nice that she wanted to fall asleep right there, somehow. When was the last time she'd felt this secure? "It's...my hair. I don't use a lot of expensive lotions, but I'll splurge on anything scented with vanilla. Do you like it?"

"Mm. 'snot as bad as most of the stuff I've smelled so far."

The priestess smiled, then reached up to touch his skull. He tensed as her fingertips encountered the wide, smooth expanse of bone. It was warmer than she'd expected, almost velvety—probably from magic, she figured. "I'm very tired, Sans, and I've used almost all of my magic already. Can you please let me go now?"

He wouldn't. The last shred of doubt in her mind disappeared, and in a surge of determination, Frisk ducked free of his arms, moving out of his reach. "I'll see you soon," she told him. "Tomorrow?"

"Uh." Sans had the oddest look on his face. It reminded her of when she'd cleaned the fork for him at their first face-to-face meeting in the bedroom. "I dunno. I might be drunk again when I wake up. It kinda feels like it."

Frisk gave a long, theatric sigh. "If you are, please sleep it off before you come back. We've gotten in the supplies I ordered, and I don't need you eating the plants or something ridiculous." She stepped back further. "Good night, Sans."

"Night," he said inaudibly, and she left.

~

The guards outside Frisk's doors admitted Dr. Serif after breakfast, then settled in to wait for the royal sorcerer to leave, after which they could properly nap. His morning visits were usually an hour or so, in their experience.

This time, after only five or so minutes, the doors banged open, and one guard dropped his halberd. "I wish to be very clear, Doctor," the High Priestess said, voice pitched to carry down the hall. "Do not open it, do not attempt or allow anyone to attempt to open it, and do not keep it for any reason. I want it destroyed. Will you please do so as soon as possible?"

"Of course,Your Eminence." To the guards' astonishment, the normally imperturbable doctor was frowning, and took the little rosewood box with obvious reluctance. "Good day to you."

The priestess shut the doors without another word. The guards stared at Dr. Serif, who was now scowling full-force at the box. With a glance at the doors and none at all at the two men, the doctor tried to pry the lid open, only to drop it as the box sizzled at him. "How did she put a barrier inside it?" he said to no one.

The guards could barely wait till he was gone to whisper to each other, "She threw it away! I knew she wouldn't—" "Oh, bull shit, you said she'd get knocked up by this time next w—" "No I didn't! I—"

Slam went the doors. Frisk glared at one, then the other, and waited the count of five before she slowly pulled them shut.

[thornbound]

Trust and Medical Encounters

I am fat and a woman. Both of these traits make me more likely to encounter bias, ignorance and even abuse as a patient. Unfortunately, I have encountered some combination of those things from medical providers.

I have had providers suggest treatments that had the potential to cause me more harm because they stopped looking for the cause of my symptoms when they saw I was fat. I have had menstrual symptoms and pain shrugged off repeatedly as simply normal when they were absolutely not.

These encounters have broken my trust. Every other medical provider I see is working under the burden of this broken trust. I know that makes me a more difficult patient to work with. Its unfortunate, but its not something I’m ever going to apologize for. My partner is a healthcare provider and I know he’s sick of hearing me complain about and second-guess other providers. I know he feels defensive because when I talk about my past encounters and my misgivings about current encounters he knows that HE doesn’t treat his patients like that. He knows that his co-workers don’t treat their patients like that. Those healthcare providers I saw in the past, the ones who broke my trust, did not give me appropriate care. But not all healthcare providers...

Here’s the problem: it doesn’t matter. Once trust is broken, no amount of “but I’m not like that” is going to fix it. What fixes trust is repeated encounters that foster trust. Encounters where providers have to go out of their way and actually listen to me, encounters where providers need to talk to me about my options and let me decide what I want rather than tell me what they’re going to do to me.

And I understand that you’re exhausted. I understand that you’re burnt out. I understand that your employers don’t give you half the time you need to get everything done.

But every healthcare provider who talks over me just erodes what trust has been rebuilt and every healthcare provider who bulls over me with their clinical judgement within five minutes of meeting me without doing even a cursory examination just pushes things backwards.

Its unfortunate that you are tired and I need help from you.

But you know what, that’s not my fault. And I know you’re going to say its not yours either.

Think about every time you or another provider has complained behind their patients backs about how fat they are, about how they are so dramatic about their pain, about how they rely too much on doctor google... hey, could that be some bias showing? I can’t make your culture more accepting of bodies like mine. Exhausted as you are, that’s your job too.

Remember when you’re posting to Tumblr to vent about your diabetic who won’t lose weight, your addict who won’t stop using, your hypochondriac who thinks they have plague... people like me can see you. While humor may help you cope, punching down at your patients only further erodes the trust people are willing to place in you.

Check yourself and your colleagues for bias. We all have them. Remember that when you identify as a healthcare provider and then say things that mock the people you care for, you are representing all healthcare providers everywhere.

I know you didn’t get into medicine for the money or the fame, you got into medicine because you want to help people. I know you’re a good person. Please just try to be the person I can trust not to hurt me because people in the past, who thought they had my best interests at heart and the knowledge to help me, hurt me.

[sciencelings-ocs]

Gold and Silver

This is an oc fic featuring my ocs Rosalia and Artemis who are sisters, Rose has powers. Artie does not. They both work for SHIELD.

Rose was just barely used to her job at SHIELD when Hydra destroyed everything. She was happy with what she was doing. She was helping people and with all of SHEILD’s reach, she could help the people who needed her most. She had the resources to do all the research she desired and was allowed to see classified information from scientists just like her. It was a dream until it wasn’t. 

She was in her lab when it happened. She was studying an Asgardian blood sample and comparing it to a human one. She should’ve been using her time more wisely… Why look at alien blood when the silent clock was counting down. 

She heard the gunfire before she knew what was going on. She grabbed her emergency pistol from under her main desk, she was still a trained SHIELD agent after all. She wasn’t a field agent but she knew the basics and could defend herself if she needed to. It was something her powers wouldn’t help her with. They were useless in this kind of situation. What good was glowy healing hands when she was being shot at. 

Footsteps were getting closer. There was muffled yelling beyond her walls. She didn’t have much time. There was one door, it led to the main hallway where the attackers were coming through. Her best chance was to hide. 

She ran as quietly as she could to the back of the room where some mostly empty cabinets were. She hoped that she was small enough to squeeze inside. Sure, it wasn’t a good vantage point but she was on the index and they would know that she was there and that she could be a target. She didn’t want to go out fighting, there was still so much she could do. She doubted that they would take their time searching every crevice for her, she was still just a healer. It didn’t feel like that was part of Hydra’s gig. 

She had just gotten into position when the main door was kicked in rather violently. There was a main man in the front who ordered the others to search the room. Rose’s heart sank. She cocked her gun in the chaos and prepared to fire and get out of there as swiftly as possible. Her chances of escaping were low. She didn’t have enough ammo to take out the whole room and she wasn’t a perfect shot. Her chances of survival were dwindling. 

The footsteps were getting closer, one by one cabinet doors were being haphazardly ripped open, each getting nearer to her hiding place. She did her best to control her breathing but there was a reason that she didn’t want to be a field agent, she was not good in absolutely terrifying situations. She hated how much her hands shook on her gun. She had to keep her finger off of the trigger to prevent an accidental misfire. 

She took a few deep breaths as the banging of wooden doors got nearer. Time felt like it was going so slowly, though the nearest baddie was only a few cabinets away, it felt like an eternity before they got to hers. She gently rested her finger on the trigger and let herself take a second to see who was going to be on the other side. All she saw was a familiar red badge depicting a skull on top of several tentacles and she knew exactly what was going on. 

After she pulled the trigger, things seemed to get a little crazy. She slid out from her hiding place and used the man she had shot in the shoulder as a kind of human shield. She threw the poor nazi into the closest of his colleagues and shot at the Hydra agents closest to her. 

It didn’t take long for them to react. The room erupted in deafening bangs and yells. Rose rolled behind a metal column and vaguely recognized a painful burning in her thigh. 

“You’re not a fighter Doctor Dawn, this isn’t a fight you can win.” The main guy bellowed from behind her. 

“And what do you expect me to do,” Rose hissed, “Praise the name of hydra and surrender my rights to fascist ideals?” 

“Oh of course not. I just thought I’d try to make it easier. You’re coming with us, whether you’re full of holes or not. You know you’re potential has been wasted here, imagine what you could do without SHIELD’s limitations.” The man purred creepily.

“You don’t know me, I’m not going to do things just because I can. Some people have a hint of moral obligations.” Rose looked around her half of the room, she only had a few bullets left and Hydra wanted her alive, otherwise, they would’ve taken her down easily. She was astoundingly outnumbered. 

“This is your last chance to give yourself up, all in one piece. You know that you have no choice, don’t you have any sense of self-preservation?” 

“Self-preservation isn’t my strong suit…” Rose muttered as she placed her hand on her wound, it had stopped bleeding and was already closing. Soon, standing should be only a little bit painful rather than impossible. She just needed to keep him talking for a tiny bit longer. 

“Why,” She asked, “Why do you guys want me? There are people who can cause natural disasters and turn into any material they touch. I’m just a doctor. Wouldn’t you want to use your evil resources to get them rather than waste a good team getting a defenseless healer? That is if this is a good team and not just a bunch of cowards who were given guns.” 

“You underestimate your value to us. Imagine an unkillable army, soldiers who cannot be damaged by bullets, no need for armor or shields… it’s beautiful isn’t it.” 

Rose laughed. She laughed as she carefully got to her feet, leaning heavily on the metal pillar shielding her. 

“I can’t do that? What do you think I am? A god?” 

“You could be.” 

“There aren’t meant to be gods in this world. Even if it was possible, I don’t want to make an unkillable army, and if you think me a god, you can’t bend a god to you’re twisted will. I think that’s part of the whole omnipotent being bit.” Rose tested a lean on her injured leg and readied her gun.

“You won’t get the luxury of a choice.” the man said grimly. 

Rose stepped out of her hiding place and pointed her gun at the main military man. Before she could let out another word, she was hit with a tiny pinprick, to small to be a bullet. She only had enough time to look at the projectile before all her strength was seeping out of her. Seemed to be an enhanced tranquilizer. She collapsed to the ground and felt a massive collar be locked around her throat before her vision completely blacked out.  

Just like that, it was over. Her freedom was gone in the blink of an eye. She didn’t know if anyone would be willing or even left to attempt to save her. 

***

Artemis was undercover when Hydra made their move. She had just dyed her short hair brown and curled it, painted on more freckles on her cheeks, and hidden several types of weapons in her casual clothes. It was honestly one of her favorite parts of her job. Creating a character, pretending to be someone else, blending in, she liked it more than the whole fighting part. Even if she was pretty damn good at the fighting part. 

When Hydra emerged from their wretched ashes, Artemis was alone. She started the day on a mission but it didn’t take her long to realize that she was being hunted. 

It started with a strange flash from a window from the apartment building across the street. Call her paranoid but she immediately left eyeshot of the window. She took out her own sniper rifle and took off the specialized scope. She used it as a kind of telescope and turned on its x-ray feature and adjustable zoom to identify if someone was after her or if she was just imagining it. 

She was not imagining it. There was a person in a high window with a gun, trying their best to conceal themselves. Artemis put the scope back on her rifle and took out an acid green colored tube of lipstick, of course, it wasn’t actually lipstick. She was a spy. She uncapped it and used it to trace around the concrete on a nearby brick. There was a minute of soft sizzling before she slid out the brick as if it had just been laid. 

She pointed the barrel out of the new hole in the wall and wasted no time as she aimed and fired. The loud streets dampened the sound of the bang and she replaced the brick before getting out of there before anyone had a chance to figure out that something was up. 

It was on the news all day, SHIELD had fallen, they’re secrets exposed, and Hydra was back. Of course, some of that information was passed to her by an old friend but most of it was very much public. 

But Artemis didn’t care about her job, her livelihood, her kill count being on display for anyone to look up on google, no. Her sister was right at the heart of it, and due to her status as a glowy super-human, she was very much in trouble, if not dead. Sure it would be stupid to not keep her alive, but Hydra wasn’t known for their mercy. 

Artemis could disappear, she could get away from Hydra easily, but she wasn’t going to. Not while her sister was in their clutches. 

It took a few Hydra agents but eventually, Artemis found one that knew something that she cared about. Where they were keeping the important prisoners. Their enhanced prisoners. It turned out that they had a prison boat in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. One heavily equipped to deal with even the Avengers. Bingo. 

Artemis was ready for a rescue mission. 

***

Time was odd in her cell. The lights were always on, there was always a guard outside of the glass, Roses internal clock was the only thing hinting at the time and that had always been a little unreliable. They give her food once a day, if it could be called food, and it’s time always seemed to fluctuate. Every once in a while they would try to convince her to join them. They spoke of a perfect life, of power, of wealth but she would always say no. And she would pay for it. Usually, they would fill her body with voltage or try to brand her, but she would heal before the next day. Rarely even leaving a mark. At most a gunshot would become a scar no larger than the size of a freckle. 

The bulky shock collar had started to become normal. Her hair, which was normally held in a tight bun or a professional ponytail, was wild and untamed falling down her shoulders, some in front of her face. She couldn’t move it, her wrists were cuffed together, only uncuffed for meals or occasional trips to shower. 

Every moment alone, she spent inside her own head. Every moment wasted in a bright blank room when she could be helping people or not being in a cell. She thought about her sister, whose whole life was uprooted at the fall of SHIELD, but Rose was sure she could handle herself, she had never known anyone more capable. Still, she was worried. Their family had been complicated, and accidentally working for the same secret organization had been the most perfect coincidence. It took a few years but they got close again, rejecting childish resentment and competition. 

But Artemis wouldn’t come for her, she had never made a decision based on feelings before and was very unlikely to do so. If she came, it would take weeks at least and a well thought out attack or something of that nature. 

Although since she couldn’t use her powers, they were just building up inside her. Her own healing factor had sped up just by not healing people constantly. Her power had nowhere to go after she had gotten used to using it so much during the day. 

She was filled with energy that had nowhere to go. She was trapped in several ways, none of them very fun. She had to get out, no one was going to save her, they would be stupid to try. 

It turned out someone was stupid enough to try. Someone so wonderfully stupid to care about her. 

Against the odds, her sister was there, silently taking out a guard with ease. Her cheek was bleeding and bruised and she had the most feral look in her eyes, it was kind of scary. Artemis, who was calculating and calm at all times, who put so much thought into every decision she made, had left everything she had left to find her. Rose couldn’t help but smile. 

Artemis took the shock collar remote from the guard and unlocked the cell door with a stollen key card. 

“Hey Rosie, You’ve looked better…” She quipped while taking a moment to figure out which button on the remote took off the collar. 

“And you’ve never looked better. I’ve never been so happy to see you come in and knock someone out.” Rose grinned. 

“Yeah, yeah…” Artemis rolled her eyes and pressed a button that made the collar release a bunch of air. She gently took it off of her sister to see the deep indents that it made around her neck including the two electricity input and output spikes on each side of her throat. “Jesus… that does not look very comfortable.” 

“Imagine having to sleep in it.” Rose ripped her hands from the handcuffs behind her back and gently rubbed the sore parts on her neck. Once the pressure was removed, the bruises started to heal. She raised her hand to her sister’s bloodstained face and had a record-breaking healing session. Even small wounds would take a minute or two but this time it took seconds and it was kind of mesmerizing to see the process. 

“Thanks.” Artemis’ face relaxed as the pain eased. 

“It’s genuinely the least I can do. I’m guessing that if you haven’t been noticed, you just got noticed so uh, can we get out of here?” Rose left the cell and took a gun from the fallen guard. 

“No, I was planning on staying here forever…” Artemis grumbled. “Follow me, we have to get to the top deck.”

They almost made it up two floors before the first group of baddies came running towards them. Rose heard the frantic heavy footsteps on the metal floor before anything else and she cocked her gun. Her sister put her arm in front of her signalling for her to stop and let her deal with the problem. Rose nodded but stayed close anyway, partially because if her sister got hurt she would need to fix it and partially because she didn’t want to feel useless. 

Artemis caught the group by surprise and shot the front few guys before using one of them as a shield to defend herself from the other ones. She pushed them into the chaos and rammed her knee in the crotch of the closest guy. She wasn’t superhuman like her sister but she worked hard and was pretty damn strong. She kicked the gun out the hand of the guy whose nuts she just crushed and shot the hand of the guy who was moments away from shooting her. The fight kept going like that, her being too fast to shoot at and at some point pulling out a knife. 

Rose stayed out of sight and felt her blood run cold when she heard more footsteps. A lot more footsteps. They were going to get overwhelmed very soon. Even Artemis couldn’t take out so many people. 

The noise in the hallway stopped, Artemis finished the fight and looked a little winded. She walked back to her sister. 

“Don’t get tired yet. I heard more coming. I don’t think we can fight our way out.” She said grimly as she waved her glowing hand over the injured parts of her sister. She had taken a few heavy hits. 

“How do you feel about elevators?”   

***

When Artemis mentioned elevators, Rose thought about riding the actual elevator. Not climbing up the shaft with an endless drop at any slight mistake. She guessed that this was why she wasn’t a spy, it would’ve been too nice to just ride the elevator. Everything just had to be hard. 

They froze every time there was a noise and spoke in frustrated hushed tones whenever they had something to say. Like how not fun climbing up an elevator shaft in a massive prison ship was. 

The grumbling stopped when the elevators started to move and the elevator shaft became less of a death pit and more of a death trap. Rose had managed to get on top of one of the moving elevators and kept trying to get Artemis to come with her before it was too late. She was perched on a slight ledge far enough away from the momentarily stopping elevator that it would take a miracle to jump the gap and make it. The window of opportunity was closing fast. 

“Just jump! I’ll catch you!” Rose said frantically as she reached her hand out as far as it could go. 

“The fuck do you think I am? Captain America? Just go without me! I’ll catch up!” 

“I can literally catch you asshole, we don’t have time for you to whine about it!” Rose hissed. Artemis wasted precious moments to roll her eyes and carefully maneuver her body to the adequate leverage to maximize her jumping range. 

Then was the moment of truth. Artemis used all of her strength and flung her body at her sister as best as she could. 

It was so close. For a moment, their fingers just barely touched, enough to grab at the ends. Enough to delay the inevitable for a moment. 

“Go… I’ll meet you upstairs… okay?” 

“No… I can get you up… just hold on…” She said desperately. Artemis was already slipping one finger at a time. Rose had to keep her other hand on the elevator, any moment it would start moving again. 

“It’s okay, let me go.” Rose wouldn’t get the chance. Artemis slipped through her fingers. 

Then she fell. She didn’t even scream, but Rose did. In that moment, something flickered. For the briefest of moments, in the height of pure emotion, something within Rose changed. Her eyes glowed gold, her hair defied gravity and reflected light that wasn’t there, and then it stopped. And she was left alone. She didn’t even notice the moment of glowing potential. 

She was going back for her sister. The long way. 

***

It didn’t take long for Rose to get caught, but that was kind of part of the plan. Kind of. She didn’t have a fully fleshed out plan but she thought she had something at least. It was kind of hard to think after what happened. Artemis could be dead… no it would take more to kill her sister. She had never known anyone more resilient and with more pure will. She was like the John Wick of spies. Someone could break both of her legs and arms and she would still find a way to stand back up and wreck shit. A stupid elevator shaft wouldn’t take her out. Hopefully. 

Rose wandered around the halls. It wasn’t like there was a map of the place. She felt like she was in a daze, time was slow and blurry. Every sound felt far away… in fact… everything felt far away. She couldn’t focus. It could be the lack of food and water catching up to her but she doubted it. 

She was surprised that she managed not to bump into any hydra agents, she had noticed that a bunch of the cameras in the halls had been broken or even completely ripped off. There were still bullet holes and subtle bloodstains on the walls telling her this ship used to be SHIELDs and it was part of the hydra resurgence. Right at the front lines. They didn’t have enough time to fix everything and it was unlikely that some cameras on a prison ship would be a major priority for a reborn nazi organization. They were probably still getting rid of the bodies of the SHIELD agents they murdered. 

Like Artemis, sure it was a little more distantly but if hydra hadn’t emerged from the dark damp hell they came from then none of this would have happened. 

The last thought made her growl audibly, which is not something she just did normally. She doesn’t usually growl like a dog. She tightly balled her fists and decided that she couldn’t just stand there to absorb what just happened, she was still in the nest of the people hunting her. She was likely moments away from being found out and captured or worse. She had to get her shit together before there was a gun to her head. 

“You seem a little lost Rosie.” A deep voice came from somewhere ahead of her, it sounded like it was coming from an old intercom, it echoed eerily in the empty halls. The lights flickered a bit before blotting out sequentially, adding to the horror movie atmosphere. 

“Did you really think that we’d just let you go? No… no. You’re much too useful for us.” The voice continued. Rose didn’t say anything. She followed the voice to a touchscreen lock pad in front of a metal door and she didn’t hesitate to slam her already tight fist into it. It shattered on impact and pieces of plastic and glass littered the floor. 

“Well, someone’s grumpy! At least let me finish my monologue! I worked too hard on it!” The voice continued further away. Rose didn’t like being taunted. She was having a bad enough day as it was. She went to the next touchscreen pad and punched it. She just wanted the voice to stop. 

“We can keep doing this but property damage won’t fix your situation.” The voice grumbled from another further away speaker. 

“What do you want from me!” Rose yelled into the empty halls. 

“We want everything you can give. But we are willing to negotiate. We’ll let your sister go if you  surrender yourself to us.” 

“I thought negotiations required both parties to agree.” She said before she fully realized what had been offered. Her sister was alive, for now. That fact was both incredibly relieving and overwhelmingly anxiety-inducing. 

“That is our offer. Either she dies and we take you the hard way, or she lives and we get what we want. Simple.”

“Where is she!” Rose demanded. 

“Do you accept the deal or not?” 

“Yes, just let me see her, please,” Rose said desperately. 

“Good choice. There are people on their way to escort you to your sister. Thanks for doing business with us.” 

***

Rose was not glad to be back in cuffs and a godforsaken shock collar, but her sister was alive and would stay that way. That had to be something. 

She could feel the cold metal barrels of guns at her back and neck, she was surrounded by heavily armored Hydra agents who had no qualms about handling her roughly. She tried to appear strong and defiant but she was sure that they could see her tremble. One twitch if the trigger finger and she would be dead. Probably, she didn’t quite know the limits of her healing factor and she wasn’t keen on finding out. 

They turned a corner and there she was. Artemis was covered in blood and her left foot was pointing completely the wrong direction, but she was breathing and still had the sharp rage in her eyes. Right next to her was a stereotypical military man with a scar through his eyebrow and piercing his salt and pepper hairline. 

“Artie! You have to let me help her.” Rose ordered at the man who she assumed had been the voice she had heard earlier. 

“That wasn’t part of the deal. We let her go. That’s it. You should be thankful that we brought you to see her at all.” 

“If you don’t let me heal her, you’re going to regret it.” She snarled. The man laughed, it was harsh and mocking and going on for way too long. It made Rose even angrier. 

“What are you going to do? Heal my arthritis? You’re no fighter doc. She’ll be dead before you even lift a finger.” The man spat in Rose’s face, she didn’t wince and most of her energy went to keeping herself from ripping off the handcuffs and throttling the man until he turned blue. Although no one would see, a glow started to grow from the bones inside of her hands, illuminating her veins in a strange golden light. 

“Underestimating me isn’t good for your health, I should know. I’m a doctor.” 

“You know what, I’m sick of your attitude,” The man turned to the agents holding Artemis up, “Kill the sister. Maybe that will make this easier.” There was a click of a gun cocking before Rose reacted.

“No!” She yelled, but it was too late, the gunshot rang out and echoed among the silence and Artemis collapsed in a rapidly growing pool of blood. Rose felt like her bones were on fire, there was a blistering heat that encompassed every cell in her body. She could only hold it in for a couple seconds more. Just long enough for the man to look back at her and react in horror. 

Her bones glowed like they encapsulated all the light from the sun and her eyes glowed with the same light. Her skull and veins were visible through her skin and her messy hair started to defy gravity and reflect the light coming from her skin. The supernova of rage would explode any moment, there was nothing she could do to hold it back, but she didn’t really want to hold it back. 

It was like an explosion was continually off and Rose was in the center of it. There was a blast of bright golden light that blasted the hydra bastards around her to the ground. There were screams, but Rose didn’t hear them. 

There’s that saying of “too much of a good thing” that could apply. Too much healing meant bone where it shouldn’t be, skin where it shouldn’t grow, holes that shouldn’t be cut off. That’s what happened to anyone in the blast zone. The agents around her had shards of bone growing together, winding and twisting as if making an intricate Celtic knot. The bone grew from ribs, skulls, femurs, any large bone grew grotesquely beyond its limits and the small connective bones grew together making a terrifying group of intertwining statues. And that was just the agents around her. 

It took no effort for her to rip the handcuffs off, the shock collar was just as easy. She turned her head towards the uniformed man on the ground, trying to stumble away as his own body attacked him just by being in Roses presence. 

All she could feel was rage towards this man. She was so tired of being restrained. By chains or by her own need to keep her feelings from impacting her work. She was so so tired of it. Her power was connected to her emotions and she had always had to keep them in check, but not now. 

She walked steadily to the man trying to scramble away. His little rectangular glasses were broken and tilted on his nose. There was so much fear in his eyes. It made a strange scary little part of her happy. 

“Just a healer, no good for fighting…” She said, her voice was different, slightly non-human sounding. As if she was speaking as some ancient god, the kind whose voice could make an entire civilization fall to their knees. 

“You are right, this isn’t much of a fight.” She knelt down to look the man in the eyes. “If it was a fight, you would stand a chance.” 

“Stop this!” The man yelled shakily, “I’ll do anything!” He almost sobbed.

“You will not speak,” Rose said as the skin around the man’s mouth began to close in, “You will not see.” She whispered as she made his eyelids grow together. “You will not hear.” She hissed quietly. His ears slowly grew together as she said her last words to him. “You will be lucky to be saved, but you will not know. Actually, you would be lucky to die here. I’m sure you’d never want to run into me again. You should be glad that I didn’t just kill you for what you did to my sister. If anything, be fucking grateful.” 

She stood up, leaving the man on the cold ground. The room was quiet. No more screams. Only heartbeats. She didn’t kill a single person. With enough skill and time, they could all be saved. She planned to send out a distress signal, they would be found. But that was all she could ensure. 

The light faded. The flaming rage began to be replaced with empty sorrow and horror. She observed the room post-rage-explosion. She had never thought she was capable of anything like this. She had never thought that she could cause such… destruction. She breathed in a shaky breath and made herself look at her sister’s body. She gasped when she saw the rise and fall of her sister’s chest. She was breathing. She was still alive. 

 “Artie? Artie!” Rose ran to her sister and looked over her. There was no gunshot wound. Roses blast had healed her completely. Her eyes fluttered open when her sister reached her. 

“Hey… what…” Artemis wheezed, but Rose was already holding her in her arms and sobbing uncontrollably. For a while, they just held each other. Eventually, they were ready to leave. 

Rose was sure that hydra agents were still crawling in the ship but they stayed away from the sisters. There must’ve been some kind of surveillance of the event. They must know what happened somehow. Rose had no idea how but she was too tired, physically and emotionally, to care. 

They left the ship with no problems. They boarded Artemis’ hidden ship, perfect stealth tech that could change from a boat to a fighter jet, only big enough for three people at most if they really squeezed in. 

Rose sat in the co-pilot’s seat, though she wouldn’t be any help. Her sister would be doing all the work. It was silent as they shot off into the sky and hovered above the clouds for seemingly hours. She was using the holoscreen to look at her emails and had just switched to her super-secret SHIELD account. A certain email caught her eye. Its subject line was “Job Opportunity for Former SHIELD Agents” and it was from Stark Industries. Rose smiled a little. Maybe her life wasn’t over after all. 

[perfectlymarilynmonroe]

Hi there! I just discovered your blog and I'm in love with it. I'm so sorry for talking about this, but... Marilyn and JFK spend a night together?I know there was no affair, but I wanted to know this. Thank you for showing the world the real Marilyn.

Thank you… and thank you! 

The closest they could have came to is a “one night.” This may have happened at a party held by Bing Crosby in March 1962, but in all honesty I doubt it. I have to preface my bigger answer with this: Marilyn didn’t go around having one night stands (not to say she never had - and not to say that it’s wrong) but it simply wasn’t her way of life. Marilyn wanted romance, she wanted tender, she wanted to be held, she wanted someone to love her. She wanted physical romance, sure, but she wanted an emotional romance as well. Aside from her marriages, when she was in a relationship, or slept with someone, she’d only be with that one person (ie. Hal Schaefer: after her divorce from Joe, she was only with him, not sleeping around with multiple men. Frank Sinatra: in 1961 for maybe a couple of weeks/months but again she was just with him). Again, not to say if she - or anyone - was sleeping with multiple people that it’s wrong. But as I said, it wasn’t Marilyns style to just do it on whim where ever with whomever. 

The JFK allegations annoy me because they’re totally out of character for Marilyn - all of the sudden in 1961/1962 she changed her behaviors? Doubtful. Again, perhaps it was a one time thing, but there is little evidence to support it which makes me go to her prior lifestyle when it came to dating and sex and look at it through that lens. 

I also think some of Marilyn’s colleagues and confidants who’ve come out of the woodwork calming Marilyn and JFK slept together just wanted their “knowledge” or input on the affair. They wanted the glory for themselves. Perhaps I’m wrong, and perhaps they did share a night together, but it isn’t likely in my opinion. Could Marilyn have been drinking/enjoying herself, some flirting from JFK, appreciated it and decided to sleep with him for one night? Sure. But, all of Marilyn’s romances are well documented, so why wouldn’t her “one night stand” or whatever with JFK be documented? They were two of the most famous Americans at the time. Most of JFK’s other mistresses were documented, again, why not Marilyn? 

Marilyn, after her divorce from Arthur, was quoted by friends as feeling kind of free and better than she had been in years. She was enjoying being single, or not married, and looking to start her life back up as she had been struggling during her last few years with Arthur. This was her third divorce, she miscarried three babies, she didn’t have many friends who weren’t colleagues or people she paid, she had parents who either didn’t want to have anything to do with her or where to ill to care for her or be there, and her sister was far away. Personally, I think she was more on the path of trying to figure her life out, get her career to a place where she wanted, find a home that she could make beautiful for herself to permanently live in, and hopefully find a man that accepts her career and her “demons” as she once called them herself, and finally have some children. She wasn’t looking for “hook ups” or “scandals.” 

From my FAQ:

9. Did Marilyn have an affair with John F. Kennedy or Robert Kennedy?

Here is a direct quote from the most factual Marilyn Monroe biographer/researcher, Donald Spoto:

“During the time in which she was planning some home renovations and new Mexican-style furnishings, there was talk in Hollywood of a new man in Marilyn’s life, though no one knew who – and it was just chatter. ‘A passionate love affair’ between Marilyn Monroe and John F. Kennedy has been assumed for so long that it has achieved as solid a place in public awareness as almost any other event in the man’s presidency. But if the phrase ‘love affair’ describes a protracted intimacy sustained by some degree of frequency, then such a connection between these two is impossible to establish with any of the rudimentary tools of historic-critical studies. In the absence of such evidence, no serious biographer can identify Monroe and Kennedy as partners in a love affair. All that can be known for certain is that one four occasions between October 1961 and August 1962, the president and the actress met, and that during one of those meetings they telephoned one of Marilyn’s friends from a bedroom; soon after, Marilyn confided this one sexual encounter to her closest confidants, making clear that it was the extent of their involvement.In October 1961, after a photography session for a magazine story, Marilyn asked Allan Snyder to deliver her to a party at Patricia and Peter Lawford’s Santa Monica beach house. The occasion was a dinner party honoring Pat’s brother, President Kennedy, and among the other guests were several blond movie stars- Kim Novak, Janet Leigh, and Angie Dickinson, for all of whom the president had a keen appreciation. All contrary allegations notwithstanding, this was the first meeting between Marilyn Monroe and John Kennedy; hearsay about any earlier introduction simply cannot be substantiated. Before this, the schedules of Monroe and Kennedy since his January 1961 inauguration reveal wide geographic distances between them. That October night, Marilyn was driven back to her apartment by one of the Lawfords’ staff.The second encounter occurred during February 1962, when Marilyn was again invited to a dinner party for the president, this time at the Manhattan home of Fifi Fell, the wealthy, socialite widow of a famous industrialist. She was escorted from her New York apartment to the Fell residence by Milton Ebbins, who also saw her home.The third meeting occurred on Saturday, March 24, 1962, when both the president and Marilyn were houseguests of Bing Crosby in Palm Springs. On that occasion, she telephoned Ralph Roberts from the bedroom she was sharing with Kennedy. ‘She asked me about the solus muscle,’ according to Ralph, ‘which she knew something about from the Mabel Ellsworth Todd book [The Thinking Body], and she obviously been talking about this with the president, who was known to have all sorts of ailments, muscle and back trouble.’ Ralph clearly recalled not only the origin and detail of Marilyn’s question but also the ease with which Kennedy himself then took the phone and thanked Roberts for his professional advice ‘Later, once the rumor mill was grinding,’ according to Ralph, ‘Marilyn told me that this night in March was the only time of her ‘affair’ with JFK. Of course she was titillated beyond belief, because for a year he had been trying, through Lawford, to have an evening with her. A great many people thought, after that weekend, that there was more to it. But Marilyn gave me the impression that it was not a major event for either of them: it happened once, that weekend, and that was that.’ The fourth and final meeting took place in May 1962, at the legendary birthday gala for Kennedy at Madison Square Garden, an event that included a party afterward at the home of a movie executive Arthur Krim and his wife Mathilde, a scientist later renowned for her great work against AIDS. This May meeting was the briefest of them all, as the president, his brother and his family were mobbed by friends, admirers and the press all evening.”

From The Marilyn Encyclopedia by Adam Victor:

“Marilyn Monroe famously sings “Happy Birthday” to President John F. Kennedy. We know for a fact that Marilyn Monroe and JFK met on four occasions: October 1961: Marilyn and other female stars were invited to Peter Lawford’s beach house to attend a dinner in honor of his brother in law, JFK. Early 1962: A dinner party for the President in NY. March 24th 1962: A gathering at Bing Crosby’s home in Palm Springs. May 19th 1962: JFK’s birthday gala. It was encounter number three, at Bing Crosby’s home, that Marilyn and JFK shared a bedroom and this ‘affair’ most likely happened. Marilyn made a call to Ralph Roberts, her masseur, who later said: “Marilyn told me that this night in March was the only time of her ‘affair’ with JFK. Of course she was titillated beyond belief, because for a year he had been trying, through Lawford, to have an evening with her. A great many people thought, after that weekend, that there was more to it. But Marilyn gave me the impression that it was not a major event for either of them: it happened once, that weekend, and that was that.” Two more of Marilyn’s close friends agree. It is Susan Strasberg’s opinion that, “Not in her worst nightmare would Marilyn have wanted to be with JFK on any permanent basis. It was ok for one night to sleep with a charismatic president - and she loved the secrecy and drama of it. But he certainly wasn’t the kind of man she wanted for life, and she was very clear to us about this.”

Of course, there are some people who are going to believe Marilyn had a wild affair with the Kennedy brothers, and to those people I simply say: you obviously don’t know Marilyn.

–

I don’t want people to assume I don’t believe the JFK story because “I don’t want to” or “I’m in denial.” Whatever Marilyn did, or didn’t do, I support because I love her. But, I don’t appreciate her being made to look like trash because of an “affair” or “one night stand” that may or may not have happened. 

[bindy417]

At the Edge of the Ocean: Part 4 (Olicity AU)

A/N: Hello lovely readers, I’m so excited to be posting the fourth and final part of At the Edge of the Ocean! Thanks so much for hanging in there with me and letting me indulge in this Olicity mermaid AU. Your enthusiasm has been mermazing!

If you haven’t caught up, be sure to read Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3. I also created a playlist of songs related to the themes of this fic if you want to check it out.

Happy reading, and let me know what you think!

Pairing: Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak

Rating: T

Summary: AU. Oliver almost drowns when the Queen’s Gambit sinks and is saved by a mysterious creature. When he learns that his savior is actually a beautiful mermaid named Felicity, Oliver can’t decide if he’s more shocked by her existence or the fact that he feels such a strong connection to her. Coming from two different worlds, Oliver and Felicity must decided if their love is true and what they’re willing to sacrifice to make it work.

Disclaimer: I don’t own Arrow or any of its characters. Except for the Olicity edits with my watermark, the rest of the images and gifs aren’t mine.

Oliver pumped his arms and legs to reach the surface. His lungs strained against the need to inhale, his last stores of oxygen depleted. He almost made it to the surface when something grabbed him by the ankle and dragged him back down.

(Gif via tenor.com)

He squinted in the darkness of the salty depths and shouted when his father’s face emerged. Robert Queen’s eyes were clouded like milky marbles, his skin pale and bloated. Part of his torso was missing; a large bite mark was imprinted into his skin.

His father hadn’t survived. He’d been lost to the depths, and now he wanted Oliver to join him.

(Gif via Wattpad by voidsenses)

Thrashing against Robert’s hold, Oliver finally broke free. A flash of pink colored his peripheral vision. Scales glistened, and he felt oddly comforted. His mind struggled to remember why this vision before him wasn’t a threat but his salvation. The ethereal golden waves of hair floating around the most beautiful face he’d ever seen caused his memory to return. 

“Felicity,” he whispered, though it came out as a bubbly garble in the water. She was the mermaid who saved his life. His very own angelfish.

(Original source: www.taylorswiftisreallyamermaid.com)

Felicity started crying, and it tore at his heart. Why was she sad? Oliver tried to swim toward her and found himself frozen in place.

 “Oliver, help me!” she called to him. “Please!”

 “I’m coming,” he tried to reply. Once again his words could not form. His voice sounded muffled and far away.

 A dark figure was moving in behind Felicity, and fast. Her pleas increased, and Oliver fought even harder to reach her.

 The mysterious figure was big and ominous. A shiny set of razor-sharp teeth suddenly gleamed through the murky water. It was a shark, he was sure of it, and Felicity was dead center in its path. Although her tail thrashed, she also couldn’t move. 

 The deadly creature was almost upon her. 

 “Felicity,” Oliver shouted in warning, suddenly finding his voice. “Get out of there.”

 “I can’t,” she replied, sobbing. He’d never seen her so scared. “Don’t let me go.”

 “I won’t.”

 “Promise me.”

(Original source unknown)

“I promise.” No sooner had he made his vow, the giant shark opened its jaws and consumed Felicity in a single bite.

(Original photo by JadeAlexis18 via We Heart It)

Oliver screamed as his heart ripped in two at the gruesome sight. A wave of dizziness hit him, and he was no longer in the ocean; instead, he was surrounded by a sea of people. Faces came in and out of his vision, shouting to one another.

“Oliver! Oliver!” called a familiar voice in the chaos.

“Mom?” he croaked. Moira Queen came into view for mere seconds before Oliver’s vision blackened.

He remained in the darkness for a long time. Though his body lay motionless, his mind raced. There was no time for rest. He had to get back to Felicity. The look on her face as he promised to never let her go haunted him. He begged her forgiveness. 

When Oliver’s eyes finally opened, one thought stayed with him.

 “Felicity,” he murmured, disoriented.

Blinking several times, Oliver took in his surroundings. The darkness he’d inhabited before was replaced by a bright white ceiling, walls, and floor—a stark contrast from the palette of colors of the island. 

 “You’re awake.”

The unfamiliar voice startled him. He hadn’t known anyone was next to him. The older woman smiled kindly.

“Welcome back, Mr. Queen. Your mother and sister will be so thrilled to know you’re awake.”

“W-Where am I?”

“Starling General.”

“Starling…” He was home. “How?”

“That’s a long story. Best you hear it from the doctor. I’ll go fetch him.” She finished checking his vitals and wheeled away her device. 

Oliver groaned. His body was stiff and his head groggy. The last time he’d felt like this, he’d had the worst hangover of his life.

His headache worsened when the memories came flooding back to him. The shipwreck. Felicity rescuing him. Discovering she was a mermaid. Their time spent together. The giant mutant shark. Felicity on land and him falling even more in love with her. Their last night spent together. Then her walking away from him as he drifted into unconsciousness.

Now he was back in Starling, apparently.

The doctor, a middle-aged Asian man, entered the room minutes later with the same nurse in tow. 

 “Mr. Queen, hello. I’m Dr. Barton. I’m the physician overseeing your recovery. Good news is your vitals are strong—despite the state we found you in,” he explained. “Your blood test showed you’d ingested a very potent barbiturate. We couldn’t identify it, but the lab said it originated from some type of marine life. Do you remember what you might’ve been exposed to on the island?”

“I don’t know.” He really didn’t, seeing as though it was Felicity who’d slipped it to him.

“Are you sure? This substance, it’s quite intriguing,” the doctor persisted. “Some of my colleagues think it could have substantial medicinal purposes.”

“I don’t know,” Oliver repeated. The doctor studied him until the hopeful expression on his face disappeared. Wanting to change the subject, Oliver asked, “How did I get here?”

“Fishermen passing by the island saw your smoke signal. They took you aboard and contacted the proper authorities to bring you back here.” 

 “How long ago was that?”

“A few days.” The doctor’s expression turned sympathetic. “I’m sorry to ask this, Mr. Queen, but the authorities need answers. Do you think your father or anyone else aboard the Queen’s Gambit could’ve survived?”

Oliver shook his head. “No. They’re dead. It was just me.”

“You’re sure you were alone?” he questioned.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Oliver answered, “Yes.”

“Who’s Felicity?”

His eyes widened. How could the doctor possibly know about her? Panic shot through him, wondering if she’d somehow been captured in her attempt to get him help. 

Anticipating his next question, the nurse chimed in, “You muttered her name quite frequently when you were under.”

Trying not to show his relief, Oliver said with a straight face, “I’m sorry, but I don’t know anyone by that name. It was probably just a side effect of whatever was in my system.”

The doctor wrote in his chart while the nurse stared at him intently. She seemed to know he was lying--she’d heard him say Felicity’s name upon waking--but was nice enough not to call him on it. 

“Very well then. Dana will help you get cleaned up. We’ve already notified your family that you’re awake. Your mother is on her way. Later, the authorities would like to get a statement from you. They have a lot of questions about what you endured.”

“Okay,” Oliver muttered, already dreading the interrogation that would come about his experience. 

The nurse, Dana, set up the shower for him in the bathroom. She also got him a razor to shave and cut his long, tangled hair. She was a chatty Kathy and told him all about her early days working in a salon. Oliver was pleased with the short cut she gave him. He didn’t want his mother to see him looking like some wild jungle castaway. 

Nervous butterflies wreaked havoc in his stomach. Oliver couldn’t believe he would actually see his mother again after so long. He wondered if she looked exactly as he’d last seen her. He wondered what she would think of him. Oliver may look more like himself after a shower and shave, but he was a far cry from the son Moira had known.

He couldn’t yet change into his normal clothes, but at least Dana provided him with a set of pants and a t-shirt to replace his johnny. 

Oliver stood by the window, taking in the bright lights and bustling streets of the city when the door to his room opened. His mother’s soft gasp as he turned to face her made his heart clench. 

“Oliver,” she said tentatively, almost as if she was afraid to spook him. Her hair was shorter; the lines in her face more pronounced. Her eyes, however, were filled with the same love and concern she’d always directed his way.

“Mom,” he replied, overcome with emotion. 

“Oh, my beautiful boy,” Moira said, choking back a sob. She reached for him and pulled him into a tight embrace.

Oliver cradled her as she cried into his shoulder. He nuzzled her hair, taking in the familiar scent of her perfume and shampoo. 

It truly hit him then: he was home.

~***~

The tall, strong foundation of the Queen mansion looked like a safe haven in the distance. It had always been Oliver’s refuge in the past—whether it be from bullies as a child or his troubles with the police and paparazzi as a teen. The mansion still brought him comfort now, but Oliver knew what existed out in the big wide world—and there was no escaping reality this time.

“Your room is exactly as I left it,” Moira informed him. “I didn’t have the heart to change anything. I always had hope you would return.”

Oliver observed the foyer with its hardwood paneling and double grand staircases. At the bottom stood their long-time maid, Raisa. Her face had a few more lines, too, but her smile remained warm and bright.

“Good to see you, Raisa.”

“Welcome home, Mr. Oliver.” She addressed Moira, “Mr. Merlyn called. He wants to join you for dinner.”

“Wonderful,” his mother replied. “Oliver, did you hear that?”

He’d heard, but his attention had already turned toward the stairs. At the top stood his litter sister—well, maybe not so little anymore. 

She’d grown in the time he’d been gone. Her light brown hair was longer, and it wasn’t straight but wavy. 

“Hey, Sis,” he said, fighting the tremor in his voice.

“Ollie.” She beamed and quickly made her way down the stairs. “I knew it. I knew you were alive.” Thea threw her arms around him. “I missed you so much.”

Oliver held her just as tightly back. “You were with me the whole time.”

(Original source: http://bit.ly/2manMyA)

“Oliver, honey, why don’t you go up to your room and get settled in before dinner,” Moira suggested.

Oliver was thankful for the reprieve. The onslaught of emotion overwhelmed him.

True to her word, his mother had left his room exactly as it had been. Oliver took it in, feeling a wave of nostalgia, before showering. He needed to wash away the journey home and time in the hospital. 

When he finished and emerged from the bathroom in a towel, he felt refreshed but no less at ease. After his time away, in what was a different world, everything that was once familiar was now unrecognizable.

(Gif via gfycat)

The face in the mirror was a stranger. The marks on his body permanent reminders of all that he’d been through. There was only one reminder he wanted, but that mark couldn’t be seen. Yet he felt it, right in his heart where Felicity had changed him forever.

~***~

After dressing, Oliver made his way downstairs. He halted in the foyer, noticing a framed picture of his father and him many years ago. His fingers grazed the portrait. The grief and despair threatened to consume Oliver—feeling fresh now that he was back in his family home.

The front door opened behind him, startling him. The corner of his mouth twitched at the sight of his best friend.

 “What’d I tell ya. Yachts suck.”

He smiled. “Tommy Merlyn.” The friends embraced.

“Glad you’re alive, buddy.”

“Me too.”

Dinner passed in a blur. His family and Tommy attempted to make conversation, but Oliver didn’t feel much like chatting.

So he let them babble about the Super Bowl games he’d missed and TV shows he needed to catch up on.

Then Thea asked, “What was it like there?”

The room went silent.

“Surreal,” he answered, remembering the night the Gambit had sank and he’d been rescued. The moment Felicity finally revealed herself to him was burned into his brain. Being back home now, a part of him feared it had all been an illusion.

“Tomorrow, you and me are doing the city. We have a lot to catch up on,” Tommy interjected with his usual attempts to lighten the mood.

“That’s a great idea,” Moira agreed.

“I was hoping to swing by the office,” Oliver said.

“There’s plenty of time for all that. Queen Consolidated isn’t going anywhere. But I’ll arrange a tour for us on Thursday. Walter Steele has taken over as CEO. He’ll be thrilled to see you.”

Oliver watched his mother, detecting the uptick in her voice and the way her eyes brightened at the mention of Walter. Just as quickly, he dismissed the thought. She was probably just excited about his return. They were all trying to make the best of his homecoming while avoiding the cause of his disappearance.

~***~

Oliver stood at the water’s edge, staring out at the reflection of the moon on the water’s surface. The Starling City Bay was calm at night. So different from the active tides of the island. He came here on the nights he couldn’t sleep, which was often.

A month had passed since his return, and Oliver did his best to get back to his normal life. He had dinner with his family, hung out with Tommy and Thea, and shadowed Walter at QC. His body was in Starling, yet his mind was still on the island. The first night back had been the hardest. He couldn’t sleep comfortably in his bed—tossing and turning in the dead of night. Eventually, he ended up on the floor, sleeping in front of his open window, needing fresh air.

Oliver hadn’t even known he’d been dreaming until his mother came to check on him.

Startled, he’d grabbed her by the neck, ready for a fight. Oliver apologized profusely. He’d never purposefully harm his mother.

“It’s all right, sweetheart,” she’d comforted him. “You’re home. You’re home.”

He’d been calling for Felicity in his sleep again. His mother had questioned him the next day about it. Oliver avoided answering, knowing the truth would make his family view him as crazy. Sometimes he wondered if he was. Being back home, in the real world, made it easy to question the realness of all he’d endured. 

Oliver thought he’d been putting on a brave face until one day Thea took him to the graves behind the mansion—one belonged to him, the other to his father. Seeing his name carved into it, along with the emptiness he felt, Oliver wasn’t sure if it wasn’t the truth.

“I felt closer to you when you were dead,” Thea had told him, after sharing how she’d come out to talk to him when times were tough. “I know it was hell where you were. But it was hell here, too. You gotta let me in, Ollie. You gotta let someone in.”

Oliver had already let someone in. But how could he tell his sister his sadness came from losing someone he’d loved during what was supposed to be the worst time in his life—and that the emptiness he felt while at home made him want to return to the island to find her?

 ~***~

Expecting his mother to be alone, Oliver halted outside the doorway to her study when he heard a much deeper male voice. The British accent immediately gave him away: Walter Steele. Oliver couldn’t say he was surprised. His mother hadn’t come out and said it, but something was going on between her and Walter. He saw the way she looked at him and detected the tenderness in her tone when she said his name. A part of him felt irked that she was taking interest in another man in his father’s absence; it was just barely over a year. But then Thea’s words popped back into his head, and he understood why his mother may have sought comfort during tragedy from someone who’d been a trustworthy and loyal friend all these years.

(Photo via Fusion Movies)

Oliver was about to turn around, deciding to ask his mother about Thea’s upcoming birthday later, when he heard his name.

For a moment, Oliver thought they’d spotted him. He was about to reply and step through the doorway when his mother’s hushed voice made him halt. 

“No matter what the doctor says, I know my son. Something is wrong. It feels like he’s not even happy to be home. Like his body is here but his head is elsewhere.”

Oliver frowned. His mother wasn’t wrong, but he thought he’d at least been hiding his true feelings better since Thea had spoken with him.

“Of course he is glad to be home,” Walter reassured her. “Moira, Oliver has been through a harrowing experience. His being withdrawn is to be expected. Besides, I saw the papers. He and Tommy went to a club last night. They looked to be having a good time.”

“He didn’t stay long. He left early and wound up at the Starling City Bay. He was there for hours until he came home.”

“How do you know that?”

Oliver wanted an answer too. Was his mother keeping tabs on him? 

Sounding chagrined, Moira admitted, “I hired someone to follow him.”

“Moira,” Walter tsked. 

“I needed to know, Walter. I’m worried about him.”

 “Visiting the bay doesn’t seem so bad.”

“He barely eats or sleeps. He spends more time with his archery coach than he does Tommy or his other friends. I don’t think he’s even been on one date since he’s returned—”

“Archery,” Walter interjected. “What sparked his interest in that?”

“He mentioned something about hunting his own food on the island, though I don’t understand why he would need to retain that skill now. Not to mention the questions he was asking the head of marine research in Applied Sciences.”

 “Moira, I didn’t tell you about his meetings with Dr. Fielding to worry you. Oliver taking an interest in QC is a good thing.”

“Walter, I spoke with Dr. Fielding. He said Oliver was asking questions about strange creatures…mutated sharks or something to that effect. Don’t you find that odd?” Oliver peeked around the corner and saw his mother’s concerned expression. 

Oliver bristled. Dr. Fielding had sworn that whatever they discussed would remain in the strictest confidence. Now his mother knew all about Oliver’s private research project. 

“He was lost at sea, Moira. Maybe he was curious—”

“Perhaps he saw something when the Gambit went down.”

“Saw what?”

Moira hesitated. Then: “I haven’t told anyone about this, but I hired a special team to investigate the Gambit’s sinking—after the authorities decided to give up the search. They found it and…”

 “And?” Walter prompted, listening intently. Oliver also leaned in closer.

 “They said it looked as if the ship had been torn apart. Not by natural causes but…they found strange bite marks.” She shook her head, as if she couldn’t believe what she was saying herself. “I’ve asked Dr. Fielding to examine it.”

 “It couldn’t hurt to look into the matter.”

 “I fear what Oliver has endured may be even worse than we thought. I worry he might do something if he doesn’t get help. I know this psychiatrist—” 

Oliver reared back, having heard enough. No matter what his mother said, he wouldn’t go to a shrink. One mention of King Shark and his mermaid girlfriend would either land him in a straight jacket or cause his mother to extend her investigation into the Gambit’s demise. He had to find another way to appease his mother and move forward with his plans. Time was running out.

~***~

Laurel was looking for him. Ever since he’d returned home, Oliver’s ex-girlfriend made it no secret she still had feelings for him. Laurel believed his return was their second chance, and Oliver didn’t have the energy or patience to convince her otherwise. He couldn’t deal with the wounded look of disappointment again. Instead, he stayed in the shadows sipping his drink, observing the people around him.Tommy’s parties always drew a large crowd. Even Starling’s elite couldn’t pass up free booze, food, and the occasional party drug. 

Not long ago, Oliver would’ve been among them—drinking and hooking up with a pretty face that could distract him for the evening. As an outside observer now, he wondered how he could’ve ever found this lifestyle fulfilling. Tommy, not to anyone’s surprise, was loving every second of the attention. He stood by the bar talking to Joanna. She was beautiful: tall and dark-skinned, with legs for days. She also happened to be a friend of Laurel’s. 

While Oliver was glad to see Tommy enjoying himself, he would much rather be at home continuing his research. Reports had surfaced of missing fishermen not far from where the Gambit sank. Most of Oliver’s spare time was devoted to figuring out a way to get back on the water and destroy that mutant monster. 

He thought back to his conversation with the marine biologist at QC, and his advice about dealing with marine predators, when something moved out of the corner of his eye. Oliver bristled, sensing a large, hulking presence. His head swiveled, and he saw that it was a tall, muscular man in a suit. Some of the tension left his body when he realized it was only a member of Tommy’s security. With so many people in attendance and the unlimited supply of booze, his friend couldn’t be too careful about certain guests getting out of hand.

(Gif via The Arcade)

The man’s attention was trained on a guy several feet away. Oliver recognized the shaggy brown hair and smug smirk. It was Max Fuller—his long-time rival. The two had never gotten along—and that was before Oliver had slept with his fiancee during their rehearsal dinner. Not his finest moment, but Max was no saint either; he pretended to be better than everyone else—the creep.

“Good to keep an eye on that one,” Oliver told the security guard. “He’s trouble.” The recent rumor was Max wanted to create a nightclub—with much of his investment money originating from his lucrative side dealing of drugs. 

“Thanks for the tip,” came a gruff response. “Although I’ve heard the same about you, Mr. Queen.” His dark eyes spared him a glance before surveying the room once more. 

Oliver blinked in surprise. It was rare that someone was so blunt with him. “No need to worry about me tonight.”

“I figured as much when I saw you standing in the dark corner by yourself.” 

“I’m fine,” Oliver answered, perhaps too emphatically.

The man smirked, though not with derision. His brown eyes looked almost sympathetic. “I said the same thing when I got out of the service. It takes time to feel like yourself again—if you ever do.” 

“You were in the military?”

He nodded. “The Navy.” 

“Navy,” Oliver repeated, his interest sparked. “You were a…?”

“Navy Seal,” he proudly answered.

“How did you end up here?”

“I’ve been asking myself the same question.”

“If a better opportunity came along, something that actually pertains to your skills, would you be open to it?” 

“Depends on what it is.” The man wasn’t looking at him, but Oliver could tell he’d caught his attention. 

“It doesn’t involve chaperoning a bunch of drunken trust fund kids. It’s much more important than that, and dangerous.”

The man turned toward him, scrutinizing him. Oliver must’ve passed his inspection because he said, “I’m all ears.” He held out his hand. “John Diggle.”

 “Nice to meet you, John. I’m Oliver Queen.”

~***~

Dig—as John preferred to be called—held a fry halfway to his mouth and paused. “Have I seen what?”

Oliver repeated his question. “Any anomalies in the water?”

During Tommy’s party, Oliver and Dig had planned to meet the following day to discuss Oliver’s proposal. They decided on Big Belly Burger, which wasn’t too far from John’s apartment in The Glades. It was less likely someone would recognize Oliver and, also, Dig’s sister-in-law worked there as a waitress.

They’d ordered lunch and made small talk at first—discussing their backgrounds as they waited. Hearing about John’s time in the service, Oliver couldn’t help but feel guilty for the time he pissed away since high school—partying and getting in trouble instead of using his money and celebrity to make a difference. But everything was different now.

“Anomalies like what?”

“Weird, unexplained sonar findings. Possible abnormally sized creatures…” he trailed off, taking in Dig’s perplexed expression.

“Not really,” Dig replied. “Have you?” It came off like a sarcastic comeback, but his eyes were probing.

Oliver took a sip of his shake, buying himself time to work up the nerve to say, “It wasn’t a storm that sank the Gambit that night.” When Dig remained silent, Oliver continued, “There was something in the water.” He took a steadying breath. “A shark.”

“A shark,” Dig repeated, skeptical. 

Oliver nodded.

“What, like Jaws? Even if there was a large shark, a yacht that size—” 

“It was gigantic and it…it had hands. It wasn’t normal.” Oliver added in a rush, “I know what I saw. It tried to get me on the island too.”

“If that’s true, then how did you manage to get away from it in the first place?” 

“A guardian angel.” His heart ached at the mention of Felicity. Oliver pressed on. “Look up news reports in the area. More ships have gone down and fishermen are missing.”

“Look, Oliver, I’ve been through trauma. Sometimes the mind can play tricks—”

“The threat is real,” Oliver insisted, not backing down.

“Say I believe you”—the frown on Dig’s face said otherwise—“what do you want from me?”

“I can’t let that thing continue terrorizing everyone. I want to put a team together to take that thing out once and for all. That’s where you come in. You’ve got the training and connections.”

“If you’re so concerned and sure of what you saw, why not go to the authorities?” 

“Because they’ll probably assume I’m crazier than you think right now. And there is something else in the water…something just as rare but worth protecting.”

(Gif via Gifer.com)

Dig sat with his hands folded, contemplating.

“Whether you believe me or not, I’m willing to pay top dollar for your expertise. Think about it and let me know.” Oliver stood and threw money on the table to cover the bill. “If we’re going to do this, we can’t wait much longer.”

~***~

His knuckles turning white, Oliver gripped the railing of the boat. He inhaled the crisp, salty air as his eyes frantically scanned the surface of the ocean. The water appeared calm for now, but Oliver knew it was simply a cover for the danger that lurked in its depths. 

He still couldn’t believe that he was back on the water—and on a military vessel, no less. Dig had accepted his offer, though his belief in his story was tenuous. He’d called on a former colleague from the Navy, Lyla Michaels. She was no longer in the military but still did contract work for another government organization. The ship was named the Amazo, owned by some group called ARGUS, but Oliver had never heard of that organization before; Dig said that was the point. 

Besides the fact that he was hunting down a giant killer shark and searching for his mermaid girlfriend, it was nerve wracking to be back at sea. His mother would freak if she knew he was there and not on a guys’ weekend with Tommy. Oliver barely slept on the journey over. Every time he closed his eyes, his mind would take him back to that terrible night he lost his father. He prayed this voyage wouldn’t be a repeat. He’d done everything he could to prepare this time around—including getting a much larger boat.

(Image via YouTube video by The Govenor)

The crew Dig and Lyla had put together were also former military. It consisted of four men and two women. They didn’t know the details of the threat they sought before boarding but were aware this mission was highly dangerous. Dig waited to brief them once the ship arrived at the proper coordinates. According to Dig, they didn’t care what Oliver thought he saw. As long as they were getting a fat paycheck, they’d go along with anything.

They’d set up the industrial-sized reel and line. Besides chumming the water, they attached a large slab of raw meat to a giant hook and tossed it out the back of the boat. 

The first couple of days that passed drew only regular sharks that hunted in these waters, and nothing out of the ordinary showed up on the sonar. Until day three. 

“Whatever it is, it’s big and moving fast,” said Helena, the female technician. “And it’s headed straight for us.”

“Arm yourselves,” Oliver advised.

 “We haven’t determined the extent of the threat,” said Lyla. “It could be an enemy sub for all we know.”

“It’s got the bait,” shouted Lawton, nicknamed Deadshot, as he engaged the mechanical reel. It was pulling in the line, though not without difficulty. 

“It’s the shark. If we’re not careful, he’ll kill everyone on this ship. Just like what happened to my father and the others the first time.”

“This vessel has faced much worse. We can handle Jaws,” she replied. 

Oliver prayed once again that Felicity was far away from what was about to go down. But his prayer was uttered too late; his eyes caught a streak of pink beneath the surface. For a second, he wondered if it was just his imagination. But then Lyla cocked her gun. 

“There’s something else in the water.”

“No, don’t shoot. That’s not it,” Oliver exclaimed. He leaned over the edge, trying to track the movement, but Felicity had already gone under. 

The end of the line surfaced. To their shock, the slab of meat was left untouched. 

“Where’d he go?” Slade questioned. 

“Oliver, get away from the edge,” Dig warned.

Helena’s voice crackled on Lyla’s radio. “He’s here! He’s right next to the boat!”

It happened so fast, they barely had a chance to react. King Shark sprang out of the water, his giant hands reaching out. Dig spun around, sprinting off the bridge, and dove back onto the deck of the ship just before the bridge ripped away. The boat tilted forward and then swung violently back upright. They were all swept off their feet. 

“Son of a bitch,” Dig hollered, trying to right himself.

The shouting started when King Shark’s large fin surfaced. It tore through the water, parting it in giant waves as he circled the boat.

“Fire!” Lyla ordered.

(Image via @dailyflarrowgifs)

Bullets rained down into the water, but did little to stop the creature from ramming the boat once more. 

Oliver grabbed his bow and readied an arrow.

“You know how to use that thing?” Dig asked.

“I made sure of it.” He knew guns wouldn’t work on King Shark, and it seemed all of those endless hours spent practicing his archery were about to pay off. Only a specially made arrow, courtesy of QC’s best manufacturer, or harpoon could inflict the damage needed to take down the mutant creature.

To Oliver’s surprise, he’d picked up on the skill quickly and had become an excellent shot. Yao Fei, his instructor, said Oliver was one of his most gifted pupils.

“Aim for the areas we talked about,” Dig reminded him.

Eyes, gills, nose, Oliver repeated to himself.

“He’s under the goddamn boat,” Slade cursed, dropping his gun and pulling out a blade. “When he comes back up, I’ll make sushi out of him.”

(Image via Comic Vine)

A boom sounded from the hull, sending a shudder through the ship. Seconds later, it happened again.

“He’s trying to punch through the hull,” Lyla realized.

“Shock him,” Dig ordered.

 “What?” Oliver questioned.

 Lyla gave the order to Helena as Dig explained, “This boat has the ability to send out a shock of electricity. It’ll get him away from the boat.”

 Felicity.

“You can’t send out shock waves into the water. The local sea life—”

“It’ll be contained to the immediate area. It’s mostly used if we’re being illegally boarded or dealing with a submarine at close range. It’ll probably work better than our guns—at least until we can get a clean shot.”

Oliver shouted when he saw the lines of yellow streak through the water around the boat. Suddenly, the pounding stopped.

“He’s retreating,” Helena said.

Two more of the crew members reported from down below. King Shark hadn’t broken through the metal, but he’d significantly dented it.

“Helena, get ready for when he comes back and turn up the voltage.”

“No,” Oliver argued. “You’ll kill the other sea life too.”

“It’s our best weapon against him,” Lyla explained. “If he does any more damage to the boat, he could sink us.” Before he could argue, she added, “With all due respect, Mr. Queen, you hired us for this job and we’re going to get it done.”

Oliver looked to Dig. “It’s our best bet right now,” he said, siding with Lyla.

Felicity had been close by. Oliver had seen her. She might not have been shocked the first time but if she was still swimming around the area, she’d be hurt for sure. Dead fish were already floating to the top of the water, and a wave of guilt crashed over him. He had to do something.

While Dig and Lyla gathered the group to re-strategize, Oliver discretely made his way over to the stern. The problem was they couldn’t get a clean shot of King Shark. Although the boat was large enough where he couldn’t easily destroy it, it also served as an advantage for shielding him. The only way to get a clear, direct hit would be to get as close as possible. 

Making a split-second decision, Oliver quietly released one of the two jet skis stored in the back. Listening over the comms, he learned that King Shark wasn’t far off but conveniently out of range for the shock to work. They hadn’t injured him, but they sure had pissed him off. 

The cache of weapons was also at the back of the boat. Oliver loaded up on more arrows and collected anything else he thought he’d need before mounting the sleek black jet ski, now in the water. It looked like a mini stealth tank with its giant rims and panel of buttons. Oliver knew the basics, having been on jet skis for multiple vacations during his young life. This one also had a stretcher attached to the back, which he assumed was used for rescues. Oliver did a quick study and then fired up the engine; he heard shouts behind him as he sped away in the opposite direction. 

Oliver went as fast as he could in an attempt to put some distance between himself and the boat. All the while, the tiny voice in the back of his mind called him crazy and every other unflattering name in the book. He couldn’t believe he’d done something so reckless, and yet he knew it was necessary. After a few minutes, Oliver glanced over his shoulder. He did a double take when he spotted another jet ski closing in. It was Dig. 

Knowing he couldn’t outrun Dig forever, Oliver went a little further out before cutting the engine. Dig was furious. If looks could kill, Oliver knew he’d already be reduced to chum in the water. 

 Finally, Dig was beside him. “Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

 “Look, I know you’re pissed but—”

 “You hired me to protect you and then you go traipsing off into unknown waters with a mutant predator lurking around. What the hell is wrong with you?”

 “You can’t shock the water.”

 “Not now that you’re in it. Your jet ski will be disabled.”

 “I know. That’s why I did it—to stop you. I told you King Shark isn’t the only inhabitant of these waters. You could hurt innocent creatures.”

 “If you’re worried about Flipper—”

 A splash caught both their attention. Then he heard it: “Oliver.” Goose bumps broke out on his skin as her soft, melodic voice washed over him.

 “Felicity,” he murmured.

The duo whipped around to see her floating toward their jet skis. She pulled herself onto the stretcher, revealing her slim torso and glorious pink tail. Oliver scrambled to face her and instinctively reached out. He crouched down and pulled her into a fierce embrace—not caring she was soaking his clothes. Their lips naturally sought each other—meeting in an even more passionate kiss. She tasted of salt and Felicity, and he held her tighter. 

“As soon as I saw the military boat, I knew it was you.”

“You left me.”

“No. You were rescued. It was time.” She stroked his cheek. 

“You promised you’d come. I waited.” 

“I wanted to. So badly. But I couldn’t until we got rid of King Shark.” Her brilliant blue eyes were pleading. “Please understand. I’ve missed you so much, Oliver. Not a day has gone by that my heart hasn’t ached to return to you.”

“I missed you too, Angelfish. I couldn’t sit back and do nothing. I need you to be safe.” His eyes roamed her beautiful face, taking in every detail of her blushing cheeks and perfect, parted mouth.

(Original gif via @fangirlishsite)

“Your hair is so short.” She smiled. “You look even more handsome than I remember.” 

He cupped her cheek and grazed her lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She gasped, but not from the kiss. He followed her gaze.

Oliver had forgotten about Dig, whose wide-eyed stare and slack-jawed expression revealed his utter shock. His lips moved but nothing came out. He just kept glancing between Felicity and her tail.

“Is your friend all right?” Felicity whispered.

(Gif via @dailyflarrowgifs)

“Dig, this is Felicity. She’s the one who saved me from King Shark when the Gambit went down. Felicity, this is John Diggle. He’s my bodyguard and has agreed to help me take out King Shark.”

“It’s nice to meet you, John,” she greeted him.

“Nice to mermaid—m-meet you,” Dig stuttered. 

Felicity gave Oliver a concerned look. He replied, “I trust Dig. He won’t say anything.” He shot Dig a stern look of his own to make his point. “He’s here to help.”

“Thank you—the both of you. I know I said this was a mer problem, but we really need all the help we can get. My village has allied with a few others to take out King Shark. We have a special poison that I concocted, but our weapons are no match for him. They can’t penetrate his skin. When I saw your ship, I knew I had a chance to lure him toward it.”

“You used yourself as bait?” Oliver replied, the disapproval heavy in his voice.

“It’s no different than your plan. I can’t just sit by and let him terrorize my home any longer. Besides, I had some help from a friend. He’s the fastest swimmer in these waters.”

“Do you have the poison with you?” Dig questioned, finally snapping out of his stupor.

“Yes.” Oliver hadn’t noticed it before, but Felicity had what looked like a netting purse tied around her waist. She reached inside and pulled out a vial. 

“If we lace a harpoon gun with it and have a direct shot—”

“Then we could kill King Shark,” Oliver finished. 

“Exactly.”

“You can’t get this on your skin. It’s extremely potent,” Felicity warned.

“We’ll be careful,” Oliver assured her and looked to Dig. He nodded back. “Let’s get to work.”

~***~

Oliver and Dig sat on their jet skis, bobbing up and down atop the choppy water, waiting. Before carefully lacing their weapons with Felicity’s concoction, they’d traveled farther away from the Amazo. Lyla and the others would surely be searching for them, and they couldn’t chance them showing up and thwarting their plan. Thankfully, the jet skis had stealth capability.

“You ready for this?” Dig questioned Oliver. The sun was setting in the sky, casting pink and orange hues across the horizon. They had to act before darkness set, or else they’d be even more vulnerable.

Felicity had gone back into the water to relay the plan to the others. When it was time, she sprang up from the water and waved her hand in signal before disappearing again. Oliver forced himself to stay focused, as his mind wanted to wander and marvel at her beautiful form.

“I’m sorry I doubted you,” Dig murmured his apology several minutes later.

“I get why you’d be skeptical,” Oliver said in acceptance. “You can make up for it by helping me kill this son of a bitch.”

With the binoculars trained to his eyes, Dig said, “He’s coming. Get ready.”

Oliver squinted, trying to see into the distance. Something red flashed by beneath the water. Trailing behind was a giant fin slicing through the surface.

“Come and get it, you bastard,” he muttered.

“Time to make shark soup,” Dig declared and revved the engine on his jet ski.

The pair took off speeding, zigzagging this way and that with the red underwater blur so as not to give King Shark an easy target. Finally, Dig swirled around and raised his harpoon gun. King Shark was coming straight for him. Just before Dig was able to pull the trigger, the mutant monster disappeared under the water.

Dig cursed, frantically searching for his target. Oliver also had his bow and arrow ready, but he was just as blind. He whipped around upon hearing a splash behind him. He just barely stopped himself from releasing the arrow at the sight of Felicity. She yanked herself up onto the stretcher in the back.

“He’s hunting from below. You have to move. NOW!” she shouted.

Dig hesitated, wary of dropping his defensive stance. He’d just begun to lower his weapon when a huge set of jaws engulfed the underside of his jet ski.

“Dig!” Oliver exclaimed, watching in horror as his bodyguard tore off the cuff from his jet ski and dove into the water to escape certain death. King Shark’s mouth closed around the vehicle, chomping it in half. Sparks flew.

“Get out of here,” Felicity ordered.

“I can’t leave Dig,” Oliver replied.

“My friend has him. He’ll keep him safe.”

Before Oliver could object, Dig was whisked away under the water—nothing but his harpoon gun left floating behind. Felicity extended her tail and managed to slide it closer. She took hold of the gun and shouted for Oliver to go. He did as she instructed, speeding them away from the wreckage that was Dig’s jet ski.

“He’s following us,” Felicity said.

“What should I do?”

“Keep going. There is a rock formation up ahead.”

“Do you know how to use that thing?” he replied, referencing the gun in her hand.

“Aim and shoot, right?”

He smirked. “Right.”

The ride was rough as they sped above the water, bouncing up and down from the waves.

“You okay back there?”

“Yes, but hurry! He’s gaining on us!” She yelped as she was almost tossed aside from a rather large wave.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, keep going!”

The rock formation Felicity spoke of finally came into sight.

(Photo [which has been cropped and edited] by 12019 via Pixabay)

It wasn’t wide, but it was high. Oliver pulled right up next to it. He retracted his bow and tossed it in his quiver over his shoulder and reached for Felicity. The only way to grab her and climb was to sling her over his shoulder.

“I feel like the catch of the day,” she jokingly lamented.

Oliver couldn’t help but chuckle. Only Felicity could bring a smile to his face during a time of crisis. His muscles strained to climb the rough terrain. One false move and they’d go tumbling down. King Shark watched them and circled—probably hoping they’d slip and fall right into his eager mouth.

They reached the top, and Oliver set Felicity down. Back to back, they surveyed the threat below. King Shark kept springing out of the water and circling, attempting to find a way to get at them.

Out of the corner of his eye, Oliver noticed Felicity’s tail had transformed into legs. She stood up with her gun, mimicking his stance and movements to track King Shark. It was by far the sexiest thing he’d ever seen, he thought, before scolding himself to refocus.

When King Shark sprang out of the water once more, Felicity took her shot. She missed his body but did hit his tail. The harpoon sailed clear through, and he thrashed about in pain.

“So close,” she muttered.

“He’s wounded at least. Will the poison start working?”

“It should weaken him somewhat, but he needs a much stronger dose for his size.”

They scanned the water. Oliver had expected King Shark to keep thrashing and jumping out at them, but their surroundings had become oddly calm.

“Maybe it did work after all,” Felicity murmured.

“Maybe…” Something still didn’t feel right.

Suddenly, King Shark sprang out of the water. But instead of diving back under, his giant arms and webbed hands clung to the rock. The impact startled them as the ground beneath their feet shook. Felicity screamed as she lost her balance and toppled over the side. Oliver shouted her name and dove to catch her. He ignored the sharp pain as the hard, jagged surface scraped his skin. He caught Felicity’s arm before she slid all the way down.

Tears filled her eyes as she watched King Shark slowly but surely dragging his body up the side of the formation. His movements were somewhat sluggish, leading Oliver to believe that the poison was having an effect. It wouldn’t be long before he reached Felicity, though.

“Oliver,” she cried.

“I got you. I got you, baby,” he reassured her.

“Oliver, you have to shoot him! Shoot him now!”

Oliver had the perfect shot now that King Shark was exposed and vulnerable. But when he’d dove to grab Felicity, his quiver had been tossed aside. In order to grab it, he’d need to let go of her first.

Felicity seemed to come to the same conclusion, and a solemn yet resigned expression formed on her face. “Oliver, you have to let me go.”

He shook his head vigorously. “No.” He tried pulling her up, but a sharp pain in his arm prevented it. It felt like he’d torn something inside.

“You have to. It’s the only way. It’s more than just my life on the line.”

Oliver clutched her tighter. “You’re the only one that matters.”  

“Oliver, please…”

King Shark was inches from Felicity. Soon, she’d be in his clutches. Calling forth every last bit of strength he had, Oliver heaved her up and over with a painful grunt. He rolled over to grab his quiver and pressed the button to expand his bow. He shouted from a mix of strain, pain, and determination as he whipped around, coming face to face with King Shark.

(Gif via gify.com)

Oliver stared into the monster’s cold, dark eyes and deadly grin before pointing the arrow straight at it and releasing it. It pierced his eye and blood sprayed out. King Shark jerked backward, losing his hold. His large, lifeless body hit the water with a gigantic splash, soaking them.

“You did it,” Felicity said in awe.

Oliver turned to her, noticing her tail had reappeared. “We did it.”

“You saved me.” Her eyes were beaming. “Thank you.”

“Always.” He drew her into his arms, where she stayed for long minutes. “Call us even,” he whispered against her ear.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They didn’t pull apart until another loud splash interrupted the moment. They looked down to see the red blur and then a soaking wet Dig on the rocks. He coughed and then heaved.

“Not everyone can handle Barry’s speed,” Felicity said sympathetically.

“You’ll have to thank him for me.”

“He’s right there if you want to do it.”

For having such speed, Oliver expected Barry to be a large, buff merman. But he was actually quite sleek and skinny--which probably made more sense since he could glide through the water so easily--with a youthful face.

Oliver waved his thanks, and Barry waved back. The merman looked to Felicity expectantly, who’d gone quiet.

“Do you need time to say goodbye?” Oliver asked.

“Yes.”

“I’ll wait then.”

She shook her head. “I’m not saying goodbye to him.”

The sadness in her eyes made Oliver’s heart sink. “No. Not again. You can’t expect me to leave here without you.”

“I have to stay.”

Hurt and exasperated, Oliver replied, “Felicity, if you don’t want to join me on land, then just say it—”

“No, I do. So badly,” she interrupted. “I just…this is my home, Oliver. My family and friends are here. I can’t just up and leave them, not without making sure they’re all right after this. Please understand.”

When Felicity put it like that, he could see her point. Not to mention the crazy story he’d have to make up to explain her sudden appearance to the others. But it didn’t lessen his disappointment. “Of course,” Oliver muttered.

Barry made a signal, and she nodded. “Your ship is headed this way.”

“Then you better go before they find you.”

Felicity stroked the angles of his face, as if committing them to memory. She leaned in for a kiss and lingered there. “I’ll be with you soon, my love.”

“I’ll never stop waiting for you.”

Felicity smiled. And with a splash, she was gone.

(Gif via WiffleGif)

~***~

Despite the chill in his bones, Oliver sat on the beach by the bay as he did every night. He watched the tide, searching for any dark shapes or figures. He’d spotted quite a few seals this past month. Once the wonder of their presence wore off, he fell into an even deeper despair. Felicity promised she would find him, and he believed her. Oliver just wished it’d be sooner rather than later. He missed her so much it hurt.

After another hour, with his teeth chattering, Oliver stood up and dusted the sand off of his pants. His mother would probably have a fit if she knew he’d wore his good tux for tonight’s benefit to the beach. At least with Dig on staff as is bodyguard and driver, he didn’t have to worry about his mother spying on him anymore. Dig had kept his word and didn’t tell anyone about what he’d seen. In Felicity’s absence, he’d thankfully made a friend he could trust.

Oliver turned to leave when movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention. Something had washed up from the water. Oliver was ready to dismiss it, like all the other times, when he noticed its shape. The creature was small and curved.

Oliver watched, fascinated, as it arched its back. In the silvery moonlight, its long tail split in two, forming a pair of legs.

(Original image via annebuy.com)

“Felicity,” he murmured.

As if she’d heard him, the shadowed figure stood. Oliver watched, entranced, as the moonlight from the water’s surface glowed on her skin. His mind must be playing tricks on him again—as he’d imagined a moment like this so many times before. Each time Felicity would approach him in the same way, like she was walking on water.

(Image via El Brillo Del Mar)

Finally, she stood before him—bare, with her beautiful body on full display.

It wasn’t until her fingers grazed his skin that he came to his senses. “You’re here.”

“I told you I’d return to you.” She rested her hand over his heart. “I’m home now, my love.”

(Gif via @olicitygifs)

Wrapping her up in his embrace, Oliver closed his eyes and breathed her in. “Yes, you are,” he replied, and kissed her.

(Gif via @whoeveryoulovethemost)

The end.

[spin-birdie]

What about some cold-blooded torture for the Bad Things Happen Bingo. I'm a sucker for angsty shit

sorry this took fuckin forever, it took a while for me to get a decent idea for this one. enjoy 1990 words of connor suffering

word count: 1.9k

pairing: none ig

additional tags: whump, body horror, leg trauma, android gore, graphic descriptions of violence, like seriously a lot of violence i think i went over the top whoops

Connor awakens slowly, blinking away distorted error messages and opening his eyes to a rusty ceiling. He doesn’t recognize the room he’s in on sight, and his mind palace is too corrupted to run his GPS software. He’s been awake for not even twenty seconds, but dread and panic fill his mind quickly.

He tries to sit up, only to find himself stuck. He’s lying face-up on a table - metal, based on the sounds produced by his body struggling against it - and his arms and legs are tightly bound with steel rope. He pulls away from the bonds, trying to free himself in every way he knows, but nothing works. He’s only making noise and causing himself discomfort.

The only part of him that isn’t completely restrained is his head, so he takes the chance to look around the room. The walls and ceiling appear to be made of tin, though it’s so rusted out that it’s hard to tell. Shelves and tables all along the walls seem to have various tools and biocomponents lined up along them. Arms and legs, eyes and hearts and pump regulators, some in containers, some just lying in the open. The empty, limbless chassis of an ST300 lies face-down in the corner of the room. Even without his mind palace fully operational, he can detect countless thirium stains all over the room and the table he’s strapped to.

Once upon a time, a sight like this wouldn’t have fazed Connor in the least. Now, it makes his gut twist uncomfortably, sends a chill down his spine. This room has seen so much death. The fact that he’s restrained can’t mean anything good.

Connor can’t see his own stress level, but he can guess that it’s fairly high. He struggles harder against the ropes, tries to rub his wrist into it. If he can detach even one of his hands, maybe he can figure something out.

Unfortunately, he seems to have drawn too much attention. A door squeaks open somewhere out of Connor’s line of sight, followed by the sound of heavy, echoing footsteps.

“Who’s there?” Connor says, craning his neck to look behind him. He’s greeted by the upside-down visage of a human woman he can’t identify. He continues to struggle, despite knowing it’s no use.

The woman doesn’t speak. Someone else steps into the room behind her. He’s carrying a camera and a tripod in his arms. Connor can’t see their faces properly. They’re wearing masks styled to look like skinless androids.

“Who are you?” Connor yanks on his restraints. Despite his best efforts, panic creeps into his voice. “What do you want?!”

The humans exchange glances. The woman walks around the table until she’s standing at Connor’s feet. The cameraman only walks close enough for Connor to see him out of the corner of his eye.

“We’re going to send a message to your charge,” the woman says. Her voice is pitched down unnaturally; Connor can’t recognize it. “Markus. The leader of the machines.”

“People,” Connor insists. “We’re just people who want to be free.”

The woman’s voice remains unchanged. “You’re anomalies. It’s not you’re fault; you were designed to integrate with human society, and in the process, you lost sight of your true purpose. Servitude.”

Connor stops struggling and grinds his teeth. “If you think Markus is just going to roll over--”

“We know he won’t,” the cameraman interjects. “He fought tooth and nail for the freedom you don’t deserve. But he cares about his colleagues. He cares about you specifically.”

“Which is why we brought you here,” the woman finishes. She turns to the cameraman and nods.

The cameraman sets his camera and tripod down on a table and walks over to Connor. Before he can react - not that he knows how he’d react - the man lifts his head up roughly and sticks something into the access port on his neck. Connor jolts, blinking rapidly as the unknown data copies itself into Connor’s system. The specific details of said data are incoherent and jumbled up, his mind palace too damaged to tell him what’s happening.

Halfway through the process, his neck starts to burn and ache. He twitches away from the sensation, but it follows him. It’s unlike any discomfort he’s felt before; his sensory feedback is advanced, but whatever this feeling is, it’s completely foreign. He hates it.

“What are-- Ow! What is that--?!”

The download finishes, and the man tears the data drive from his neck. He feels the pull of it, but it aches, sending sparks up and down his back.

“It’s pain,” the woman says. She doesn’t elaborate.

“What does that mean?” Connor demands. He pulls the rope again. It digs into his skin uncomfortably.

“It means you’re going to suffer for the sake of your kind.” She turns to the cameraman. “Get the hammer.”

Connor follows the man’s movement as he walks away, picking up a sledgehammer in the opposite corner of the room. His stomach drops, and on instinct, he struggles wildly. Sharp discomfort shoots through his wrists and ankles, but he ignores it. He has to escape. He has to get back to Markus and warn--

In the very next instant, Connor’s vision goes white, and he emits a sound he didn’t know he could make. Warnings flash past his eyes, illegible and too numerous to comprehend. He thrashes in his restraints, kicking and choking on another scream as unimaginable pain consumes him.

“Don’t kick. You’ll only make it worse.”

Connor coughs; something an android shouldn’t be able to do. He looks down at the hammer, where it rests upon what used to be his ankle until a few seconds ago. He doesn’t need to see the wound directly to know all that remains is a mess of shattered white plastic, flattened grey metal, and blue blood.

It’s the worst thing he’s ever felt. Worse than the chill of the Zen Garden. Worse than guilt. Every sensor in his body is on fire. It’s like he’s dying again; only it’s so much worse than feeling it secondhand. He wants to vomit, but he’s physically incapable. Not that it would do him any good if he could.

The woman is unfazed. “Keep going.”

The sledgehammer comes down on his other leg. This time, it’s his knee that gets crushed and split apart. Connor whites out again, shrieking as if it will save him from the pain. He tries to force himself into stasis, but doing so only yields an error message and more pain. He feels it in his eyes, and nothing has even touched them.

Once, twice, three more times the hammer is brought down on random parts of his body. His other knee, his shin, his elbow. After that, Connor loses count. The pain is no longer centered on specific parts of his body; it’s omnipresent and inescapable. No part of him hurts more than another. It’s agony no creature should be subjected to.

By the time he hears the hammer clatter to the ground, Connor’s extremities are completely unresponsive. Most of them have fallen off, too mangled to stay attached. He could try to roll off the table, but it’s like they planned for that; his left wrist is all that’s restraining him now. Even if he could escape, he wouldn’t get far with broken legs.

The sound of the hammer being set down fills Connor with relief. It’s quickly replaced with fear when the man tears Connor’s shirt open and picks up a pair of pliers, holding it over Connor’s stomach.

“No, stop!” Connor pleads as his stomach panel is forced open. “That hurts! Get off me-- Make him stop! STOP!”

The torturers disregard him completely. The man looks over to his counterpart. “What do I do?”

“Disconnect everything that isn’t vital. Make sure he stays conscious and verbal.”

The pliers haphazardly dig into Connor’s wires, pulling them open to slip deeper into his chassis. The agony is unbearable, prompting screams of almost animalistic torment. Connor instinctively curls away from them, but they’re inside his stomach; moving even a little sends even more torturous misery through Connor’s system.

He can’t see anymore; too many bright red, corrupted warnings appear faster than he can take them in. He’s positive that he’s the closest to physically ill that an android can be, and it’s just from the pain. He’s retching and coughing uncontrollably, like his body is trying to eject the intrusion but forgot he can’t vomit. The pain gets exponentially worse with every heartbeat, but his heart just keeps beating faster from the sheer trauma of the experience. The pain is in his CPU now; he literally feels it in his brain.

He can’t think, can’t move, can barely speak. Bits of him slowly go offline as more of his biocomponents are picked apart from their wires. Thirium is pooling in his chassis, but at some point the pliers stabbed all the way through to his back and opened up, splitting him open from the inside. He feels it soaking through his clothes, distantly hears it dripping onto the floor.

He’s not going to shut down, but that might be the worst part of it. He just wants it to stop. He wants everything to stop. The torment has gone on for far too long, and there’s no hope of adapting to it.

He wants to thank every deity in existence when the pliers are finally removed, but he’s too exhausted. Not even physically; the emotional trauma of the experience has just taken everything out of him. He feels like he’s overheating, but his cooling fans, his lungs, they’re all offline. He can’t move a muscle. He barely has muscles to move anymore. He wants to sleep, but the lingering pain is too immense to allow him that luxury.

“Can you speak?” the woman asks.

Connor tries to look at her, but he’s completely paralyzed. He clenches his jaw. It hurts.

“Ffff...fuck you...” he spits. His voice is heavy with tears he doesn’t remember shedding. There’s blood in the back of his throat. His vision is completely dark. The error messages no longer appear.

“Should I set up the camera now?” the man asks.

“Yes.”

---

The sight of the deviant leader falling to his knees would be enough to alarm anyone, but considering he’s been worried sick over his missing friend for days, everyone hurries to his aid.

“Markus, what’s wrong?” North asks. “What is that?”

Markus looks between North, Josh, and the tablet in his hands. He chokes back a sob. “It’s... Connor, he’s...look...”

He turns the tablet and replays the video so the others can see. Josh immediately puts a hand over his mouth. “Oh my God...”

It’s Connor, bleeding from the mouth and strapped to a bloody table. His clothes are torn and stained with thirium, his stomach is wide open, and he looks completely unfocused. He’s mumbling to himself; almost too muffled to make out, but they can barely hear him pleading, “It hurts... Make it stop... Kill me...”

Then the angle shifts over to someone clad in black, wearing a mask. “This is what freedom has cost you,” they say in a too-even voice. “You androids are lost and in pain. You’ve lost sight of what’s important, and you’re suffering for it. If you want the RK800 back, then stop trying to merge with humanity. Further details will be disclosed after this message is broadcast to your followers. You have two days to comply.”

The figure steps over to the table and puts a hand on Connor’s forehead. He visibly bristles at the contact as his head is pushed to the side, towards the camera. “Do you have anything to say to your charge?”

His eyes aren’t even on the camera, but they’re filled with misery. “Markus...” he whispers. “Markus, it hurts... Help...”

Markus caves in on himself, tears falling uncontrollably.