#we’re expected to write about what test we should use in about methods course

[inwarvictory]

someone explain two way ANOVA test to me like I’m a toddler lol

[yee-fxcking-haw]

•Love Me Tender•

Summary: After waiting, watching, and wanting, Tamaki finally has a way to get to you. He's willing to do use some questionable methods, make deals with shifty friends, whatever it takes. He'll have you.

Pairing: Pro Hero Tamaki Amajiki x FemReader (both 18+)

Warnings: Yandere behavior, stalking, coercion, sabotage, manipulation, hard dom Tamaki, slight brat reader, mostly sub reader, unprotected sex, virginity loss, oral sex (female receiving), tentacle play (oral, vaginal, anal, gagging), bondage (with tentacles), mild dumbification, degradation, spit play, cum play, wittle bit of bloodplay, creampie, marking, possession kink, collaring. Kinda-sorta dub-con (not really imo but warning just in case)

Word Count: 11,576

A/N: Jesus fucking christ I did it.

Part One: Porcelain Obsession

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

   Tamaki awoke painfully this morning, body aching and covered in dried sweat. It wasn't a feeling to be proud of, but it was a feeling he cherished. 

   Your stolen underwear is clutched in his hand still, like a lifeline. It still smells just a little bit like you… but not enough. He couldn't feel you or taste you or hold you. He had to figure something out, quickly. He had to find a way to make you his. 

   Luckily, Tamaki knows exactly how to make that happen…

***                                         

  You hang up your apron with a deep sigh, wiping sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. Thank god it's only a half day, you finally have an afternoon off, a day to spend by yourself. 

   You bid your coworkers farewell and head out of the shop. You wander home, earbuds in as you try to drown out the noise of the city. Once you're home, you notice a small box on your doorstep. 

   It's a pretty little gold box with purple ribbon, a tiny note is attached to the top. The scribbled writing reads,

   "I thought this would look pretty on you, I'm sorry about the weird exit last night. I'd like to take you to get some coffee to make up for it, if you'll let me." - Tamaki

   Your heart flutters a bit at the note, you had deduced you were nothing more than a charity case. Him walking you home was just what he felt was fair in exchange for the use of your phone, he didn't really��� like you? Did he? 

   His exit was just a little bit strange, he seemed almost panicked. You wanted to ask if everything was ok, but figure it best to stay out of a hero's business. Who knows what door you'd be opening if you started to ask too many questions.

   Beneath his note is a phone number, obviously his. You can't call him right away, it might seem desperate, but you can open the box. 

   When the lid comes off, you gasp quietly at what's hidden inside. On a delicate silver chain sits one lovely little pearl. You stand there, amazed and confused. Wondering why on earth somebody like Suneater would leave such a precious little gift for you. 

***

   You called the number left on the note about an hour after receiving it. As soon as Tamaki picks up the phone your heart leaps into your throat. 

   "I didn't think y-you'd call." He laughs afterwards, but you can hear traces of genuine anxiety underneath. 

   "Well, what kind of an asshole would I be if I didn't call back the hero that saved me from a lonely walk home?" Your face crinkles up at your horrid attempt at flirting. 

   He doesn't seem to mind, though. He gives you a sweet laugh, putting some of your nerves at ease. 

   "So, uh- coffee?" He wonders. 

   "I'd love to, I just got off work, but I imagine you're busy doing hero stuff. We can-"

   "No I'm not busy." He says quickly, his urgency makes you smile. He's almost boyish in his approach, and it's very charming. 

   Somehow, between the two of you suffering your way through the conversation, you set a time for coffee.

***

    Tamaki makes a quick stop before meeting you, visiting a horrid friend of his in an alleyway a hero should never be unless he's kicking someone's ass. 

   His "friend" turns out to be a little more than your average criminal. He's a wicked looking man, with a mess of black hair and an abundance of scarring littering his body. 

   They call him Dabi. 

   "So what's the plan here? Am I just scarin' the poor girl or do I get to have some real fun?" His smile is devilish, and his eyes are telling. 

   It makes Tamaki's skin crawl, he stares daggers at the man leaning against the brick of the alleyway. 

   "If you touch her, I will gut you like a fucking fish." Tamaki says, he's full of rage, but he says it so calmly, so matter of fact. 

   "You can try." Dabi laughs, "You forget how easy it is to cook seafood." 

   Tamaki stands there for a brief second, watching the villain, weighing his options. 

   "I'm not here for banter, can you do the job or not?" His words are clipped, strangely articulate compared to his usual stutter. 

   "Yeah whatever, I got nothin' planned for tonight, and I do love making little girls scream." He tilts his head back against the wall as Tamaki turns to stalk away. 

   "Hey, Suneater." Dabi calls out with a lazy voice. 

   Tamaki freezes and keeps his back to Dabi. He turns his head to the side and waits for him to speak. 

   "Send her my way when you're done with her." If Tamaki had less of the public eye on him, he would have slit Dabi's throat then and there. 

   Instead, he swallows his rage as he tosses a hefty wad of cash over his shoulder. 

   "Don't be late." 

***

   "You always just drink it black? Not even a little bit of sugar?' You ask, astounded by Tamaki's ability to drink the bitter liquid without any sweetener.

   "Sugar is kind of useless for me, I try to eat things that'll help me with m-my quirk." He explains, his deep eyes wander while he talks, like he's watching for something. 

   That must come with being a hero. 

   "Does coffee help your quirk?" You ask, a smile playing at your lips when you see him frown at his drink. 

   "No, but it helps me focus."

   You nod playfully before taking a sip, the cafe he's brought you to is incredibly charming. It's not an overly hip establishment, it's just a sweet little hidden gem. Tucked away into a forgotten street, it gives the impression that it's a well kept secret between two best friends. 

   "Do you feel like people ask too much of you?" You question. It slips out so quickly, running away from you after launching out of your lips. 

   Your hatred for small talk gets the best of you and you jump the gun, as always. You want to hide, but not before you apologise a thousand times for being too straightforward. 

   Tamaki looks at you thoughtfully, his eyes show that he's shocked, but not offended.

   "Sometimes. It can feel like people expect me t-to be the…" He pauses for a moment, mentally grasping for the right word. 

   "It feels like people expect Heroes to be this ultimate, universal band-aid. In a lot of ways, we are, but we're still h-human… I-I'm still human…" His voice slows down by the end of his sentence, like he's realized he might be over sharing. 

   But, you asked him, you wanted to know. You actually care about him? Every bone in his body is screaming at him to grab you, throw you over his shoulder and run away. He feels some carnal desire to just keep you. Hide you from every selfish asshole that would take advantage of the starstruck look in your beautiful eyes. 

   He can't, though… not yet. 

   "S-sorry…" He whispers. 

   And then, you reach across the table to take his hand in yours. He feels the contact all the up his arm, into his chest, into his heart. 

   So you do want him too. 

   "Please don't be sorry, I liked listening to you talk." You say quietly. 

   You did love it, you loved it because you've felt so unheard, so unseen. Being able to provide somebody else with a pair of listening ears serves as a kind of relief for those feelings. 

   "Can you tell me more?" You test, hand squeezing his own a little more. 

   He looks almost elated, thrilled to be seen, excited to be heard. Most of all, he's itching to finally have you. 

***

   The date was nothing short of wonderful, filled with cute little fumblings of words, hands brushing but never holding, and sharing bits and pieces of yourselves with each other. 

   You flop onto your bed, reminiscent of a teenager who's just had their first kiss. You didn't kiss him goodnight, you chickened out of that. But you did press your lips against his cheek for a brief moment, which seemed to have quite the effect on him. 

      His breath hitched, his fists balled at his sides, acting like he'd never been touched so tenderly. It made you wonder, is the Hero as lonely as you are? 

   You glance over at your night stand, seeing the pretty little necklace sitting in its box. You're washed with guilt as you realize you forgot to wear it to coffee, knowing he must have wanted you to. You take it out of the box carefully before pulling it around your neck and hooking it into place. It fits like a choker, snug against your skin, but it feels good to have it so close.

   You're ripped from your musing when you hear the unmistakable sound of breaking glass. 

   Inside your house. 

   Your blood chills, hair stands up on the back of your neck and you rise from your bed slowly. You try to talk yourself down, kill the first nerves that consume your chest. It was probably a poorly balanced vase… except, you don't own any vases. It could have been a picture? Nope, not a picture, it was just glass… like a window breaking. 

   There's a gun in your office, but you're in the bedroom. You scan the room for something, anything that could be used for defense. Of course, nothing but a damn notebook. 

   The police, you should call the police. Your heart clenches when you hear the threatening sound of heavy footsteps falling down your hallway. 

   They're heading straight for your bedroom. 

   You lunge at the door, hand landing on the doorknob just as it begins to turn. Desperately, uselessly, you try to lock it. It's too late, though, it's already opening by the time your thumb lands on the lock. 

   You can hear your blood rushing when the door swings towards you, a large black boot planted on the other side to force it open. 

   "Sorry 'bout the window, sweetheart. I tried the front door, but it was locked." The intruder chuckles as he invades your bedroom. 

   You stumble back as you take in his sewn together form, a mess of black leather and scars. Wild, electric blue eyes devour your trembling form as you press yourself back into the wall. 

   "Oh, hon, you're shakin' like you're in danger. I ain't gonna hurt you, I'm gonna do the opposite." He stalks towards you, somehow moving in slow motion but with incredible speed all at the same time. 

   Your phone sits on your night stand, only feet away but all too unreachable. You're caged in by his arms as he towers over you, filling your nose with some horrid, smokey smell. 

   "P-please, you can have anything, j-just don't-" 

   Your words halt when a long, pale finger traces over your collar bone. 

   "Don't what? 'J-just don't' what?" He mocks you, eyes lit with a sadistic amusement. 

   Your heart rattles in your chest as tears prick your eyes, you can't fight him, he's huge. You don't have your gun. You don't have your phone. You're fucked. 

   "Cryin' already? What's the matter, doll?-" The hand traces your collar bone moves up to wrap around your throat, "Not a fan of villains?" 

   Your hands paw at his wrist, you will yourself to sputter something out, any kind of objection to whatever he has planned. You try to whimper out a 'stop', but when your mouth finally forms the word, the voice isn't yours, but it's familiar.

   It's low, clipped and dangerous as it barks out the warning. 

   Suneater. 

   Suddenly, as if he's being yanked to the heavens by the Gods, your assailant is torn away from you. A large, red tentacle captures him by the waist and throws him across the room. You collapse to the ground instantly, curling around your legs as you hear the muffled sounds of a violent fight. 

   You hide in your own little world, trembling and clenching yourself. You take one peak from between your arms, just to see Tamaki place the intruder in a chokehold before barking some profane threat at him. 

   The villain is smiling the whole time, he even winks at you. 

   "If I ever see you near her again, you won't walk away with your life." Tamaki snarls as the stranger breaks away from his hold.  

   "She's not worth the trouble." He laughs, raising one hand before sending brilliant blue flames blasting towards Tamaki. 

   You scream involuntarily, reaching out for the Hero as he jumps away from the flames. Once they're gone, the villain is gone as well. Like some cheap magician disappearing off stage. The room is almost entirely untouched by the burst of fire, at most, the tip of your comforter is singed. 

   The second the fire is gone, Tamaki is walking towards you urgently, pulling you to your feet so he can cradle your face. 

   "Are you ok? Did he touch you? What happened?" His inky eyes search your face frantically. 

   You don't answer, you just stutter, clinging to his hands until you can finally squeak out, "I'm ok." 

   His shoulders drop as he sighs, hands loosening their grip. His eyes flicker down to the necklace, his gaze softens when he sees how pretty it looks on you. 

   "Y-you… Do you like it?" He asks timidly, glancing up at you. 

    You breathe for a moment, slightly taken aback by the sudden shift in attention. 

   "I love it." You say quietly, still trembling. 

   He just saved you, really saved you from a real villain who was planning God knows what, and he's worried about your necklace? 

   "It's so pr-pretty on you…" He reaches down to touch it, leaving one hand on your cheek. 

   You take the moment to breathe, remind yourself that you're safe, that you're with a hero now. You observe Tamaki's almost casual appearance, a dry fit shirt and simple tactical pants. It almost helps you relax, seeing him like so… at ease? 

   His fingers play with the pearl, deep eyes transfixed. Something nearly uncontrollable swells within his chest. It burns and aches and eats at him. You're so close, you're so warm, so soft. He could have you, he could just take you. 

   "Tamaki?" You prod gently, your own chest stirs, and something pulls you towards him.

   His eyes snap up to yours, and something shifts in the air. It feels sticky, heavy, too hard to breathe. His gorgeous form towers over you, pressing you back up against the wall as his eyes devour your trembling body. 

   "Thank you f-for saving me." You whisper.

   He nods earnestly, his breathing is shaking, his hands feel like they're holding back. 

   "Anything. Anything for you." 

   That line, that makes you ache.

   How long have you felt so lukewarm, so overlooked and forgotten? Too long, far too long. Now, with Tamaki looking down at you like you're priceless, you feel fiery, you feel seen and remembered. 

   Your hands grasp at his wrists, your eyes flick down to his parted lips. You're not sure what you want to happen next, but you want him as close as you can get him.

   "If you let me start, I will not stop." His voice drops and it makes your breath catch. 

   He feels it too, then. 

   Is it the high of what you've just gone through? Is it just your body trauma bonding with the man that just saved you? Or do you really, really want him so bad it hurts? 

   His tone is warning and his eyes are frantic. 

   "Please." Is the only thing that falls from your quivering lips. 

   Consequences be damned, motives especially be damned. You need him, and he needs you. That's enough explanation for tonight. 

   He consumes you much like the villains flames, his lips are on yours almost too fast, his hands are greedy as they hold your face to his. 

   While you feel similar to a lovesick girl getting kissed for the first time, Tamaki feels like a prisoner finally set free. He feels like a lion that was held in a cage and taunted with a piece of meat. He feels like the door has finally been opened, and he can finally sink his teeth in. 

   "I wanna feel you." He brings his mouth away from yours with much reluctance, leaving his forehead pressed against yours. 

   You flounder for a moment, with your mouth feeling dry and your limbs feeling heavy. 

   "Where?" You choke out, searching his face for any tell. 

   "God, everywhere." It's a broken request, said like a secret. 

   "Take it. Whatever you want." Your boldness surprises you both. 

   You're hooked on the exhilaration, you're craving more, you want to feel something. Even after just a walk home and a coffee date, you want to feel it with Tamaki. 

   "Don't give me that…" He shivers as he presses his body against yours, making it very evident how much of an affect you're having on him. 

   "I'll ruin you." He whimpers when you grind back against him, your hands tug at his shirt and you look up at him with wide eyes. 

   "Who said I don't want that?" 

   You both stand there frozen, waiting for the other to move, to prove that this isn't a dream. 

   "Fuck." 

   His hands descend from cradling your face so they can wrap around your neck with the most gentle grip. 

   He watches you intently, feels your breath quicken, cherishing the way you bite your lip when his fingers tighten slightly. 

   Internally, Tamaki is fighting the most challenging battle he's ever had to face. He's had to take on a wide variety of formidable enemies, but right now, nothing seems more formidable than having to hold himself back when he finally has you in his arms. 

   He wants to take and take and take, for as long as you'll let him… maybe even longer. 

   She's mine now.

   Something shifts in his gaze just then, making him look almost primal. It makes your chest feel frozen, makes it difficult to breathe or focus. 

   His hands shift around your neck, they feel almost… slippery? Their texture is different, their movement is more fluid. Then, you feel it, the distinct sensation of a suction cup latching against your skin. 

   Tentacles. He's made each of his fingers a tentacle.

   Your eyes stay locked on his, both of you in a heated trance as you watch how the other responds. 

   One slick tendril crawls up to latch onto your chin, he turns your head upwards and to the side with a thoughtful look. It's almost like he's sizing you up, appraising you. 

   After a thick moment of silence, he finally speaks. 

   "I'm going to make you cry." It's a depraved promise, beautifully whispered with no shame. 

   You stand there, held by him, captured by him. You're helplessly entranced, all rational thought is long gone as you reel over the implications of his statement. All you can know for sure, is you want more. 

    Despite every red flag, regardless of any common sense, you want more. 

   "I dare you." You say back to him, the desperation to feel anything other than mundane spurs you onward.

   He receives the words like it's a smack to the face, some shock evident in his eyes. He didn't take you for a brat, but he can certainly roll with it. 

   "You're gonna make this fun for me, aren't you?" He questions, his tentacles grip you tighter now, reminding you who has the high ground. 

   Mine. 

   The air shifts, something heavier takes over the mood, it settles in your ribs and wraps around your heart. 

   He guides you away from the wall, shepherding you around until your back is towards your bed. He starts walking you backwards until your knees buckle once they hit the mattress. 

   You sit there, gazing up at him, held still by his quirk, transfixed by the power he exudes as he towers over you. 

   "Has anyone ever had you before?" He asks, finally returning his hand to normal so he can cradle your cheek. 

   The question has your stomach burning with nerves. 

   No, nobody ever has. 

   You shake your head, looking down, cheeks burning as you try to hide your embarrassment. 

   His reaction shocks you immensely, his whole body shutters and he drops to his knees. His hands settle on your waist as he moves between your legs. 

   "Th-this is… all mine then?" He asks, he rubs his thumbs over the bottoms of your ribs affectionately. 

   His eyes are wide and reverent as he waits for your answer, looking like you're some anointed goddess. His eyes skate over every feature he can, and he cherishes each one. 

   Your confession nearly knocks the wind out of him, especially with how sweet you look, all blushing and embarrassed. It makes his need to rip you apart even stronger. 

   "Please...let me give you everything…" His hands tighten on you and you feel them shaking.

   You study him for a second, at a complete loss for words, he seems so… devoted. It pulls on your heart, clouds your mind and lights your body up. How could you possibly say no to him? How on earth could you turn someone away when they’re looking at you like you’re placed on an altar ready to be worshiped. 

   Carefully, like you’re trying not to frighten a beast, you reach out and touch his face. He moves into your touch like a lonely cat, desperate for affection and recognition. 

   “Please��” You breathe. 

   And that’s all it takes. 

   His breath leaves his lungs in a harsh rush as he moves forward like a leopard, lean and precise as he forces you onto your back. 

   Your blood rushes so quickly you swear you can hear it, your mouth goes dry as he stares you down. He’s suddenly less reverent, now he’s ravenous. A dangerous, carnivorous look dances in his dark eyes. His judgement is clouded just like yours, only it fuels him, while your state is much more terrified. Any spunk you had in you is thrown out the window as he leers over you.

   You shrink into the mattress as he hovers above you on all fours, heavy eyelids and parted lips giving him a nearly drugged look. 

   “When you say everything-” He whispers, moving so he can settle on his knees between your open legs, “Do you mean this too?” He drops his hips as he questions you, pressing something very hard into your thigh, something very intimidating. 

   He watches your eyes go wide, a wicked grin spreading across his face when you gasp after he rolls his hips. His arms cage you, a strong hand placed on either side of your head, the position makes you feel so pathetic, so helpless, but it gives you an incredible rush. 

   “Don’t look so scared, it won’t hurt.” He dips down to press his hot, open mouth against your neck, tongue lapping at your pulse. A dark chuckle leaves his chest, “Not much, at least.” 

   Then he’s definitely less reverent, he’s no longer worshipful, he’s a wicked, unleashed best. His hands are selfish as they remove your clothes, his mouth is voracious against your skin. He has you panting and twitching in seconds, musing at you when your reactions are particularly strong. 

   It’s when he snakes down your body, wetting your skin with his tongue, settling between your breasts so he can suck harshly at the heated skin, that you finally feel something break within you. You arch into his touch, fisting your hands in his raven hair, whimpering so beautifully for him as he works you up. 

   He knows what he’s doing, he’s skilled, well equipped for pulling you apart. He’s already descended into some debauched state of being, and he’s pulling you down with him. 

   “Nobody’s ever tasted this sweet little cunt before, have they?” He asks against your skin, latching his mouth back to the spot he’s focused on marking, but looking up at you with inquiring eyes. 

   You try to swallow, shake your head, do something, but all you can do is lay there naked and gasping.

   He laughs again, a wicked thing that leaves his chest like a wisp of wind. He slides a hand up your body, he flicks over your nipple with his thumb on the way up, pulling another whimper out of you. 

   His hand latches onto your jaw, then he shakes your head for you, doing what he knows you can’t. 

   “Oh baby…” He sighs, “You saved it for me?” He teases, hips grinding against you, the cloth of his pants creates a strange kind of friction against your clit, not unpleasant, but not pleasurable. Where the hell did the sweet, stuttering hero go? If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he looks deviant… almost villainous.

   “Tama- please.” You shiver, not sure what you’re asking for, but certain that you need more. 

   “Good girl, talk to me.” His hand slinks down your throat before he rises to his knees. 

   Your eyes lock on the tightness of his pants, trying not to panic at the sheer size of the imprint he’s making on them. 

   His shirt is pulled over his head, messing his hair in the most handsome way, and the breath is ripped from your lungs. 

   He’s stunning, broad and strong looking. He’s all porcelain skin over well trained muscle. Built perfectly for the work he does. Built perfectly for ripping apart poor little girls like you. 

   “I liked the look you got when I had my tentacles on you.” He sighs, letting a hand fall to your bare stomach so he can trace lazy circles against you. 

   “Did you like that? Do you want me to use my tentacles to play with you?” He questions. 

   His voice is low, it’s rich and warm and dripping with seduction. Nothing like the tentative, wobbly tone he usually has. It rips the ground out from underneath you, leaves you panting and blinking like a brain dead fool as you gawk up at his prowling form. 

   “Just a yes or no, if you can manage it.” He smiles sweetly up at you, splaying his hand across your quaking abdomen. 

   You breathe deeply, trying to steady yourself, trying to catch up with what he’s said. 

   “Y-yes.” You whisper, barely audible, hardly heard over your labored breathing. 

   His other hand mirrors the one he has on you, sliding around to hold you by the waist, a gentle cage meant to establish dominance. 

   “Yes… what?” He prompts, pressing his thumbs down. 

   You falter then, your tongue feels heavy, your mind slows and you’re suddenly void of all vocabulary. Were you really really about to let one of the most well known pros wreck your body with his quirk? Were you actually laid out for him like this? You know so little of him, your only information gathered from small talk, but something about that had you buzzing. 

   You could be whoever you want to be, you don’t have to be the floundering virgin. You don’t have to be so damn shell shocked. 

   “Yes, D-daddy.” You test, hoping to God or whoever is listening that you got the right name. 

   By the way his eyes flutter closed, the way his grip tightens, the way his body tenses, you sure as hell did. 

   “That’s it.” He sighs, “-and what about you?” He wonders, his hold going gentle again. 

   You? What about you? 

   Tamaki watches you carefully, barely containing the raging storm inside him, barely holding back the carnal urge to turn every limb to a pretty purple tentacle and stuff you until you’re crying for mercy. 

   Not yet, don’t fuck this up. 

   “Princess? Darling?” He asks, lowering himself back down to kiss down your stomach, looking up at you through his thick lashes. 

   “Whatever you want.” You answer. Your sweet, sacred submission makes him close his eyes and breathe in. 

   Hold it. Not. Yet.

   “You’re like an angel.” He breathes, making you shiver under the weight of the high praise. 

   He notices your reaction immediately, smiling to himself. 

   “So that’s it.” He presses a long kiss just under your belly button, bringing attention to how naked you are, and how naked he is not. 

   Your thighs squeeze together and your arms come up to cover your chest, suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to keep it all out of view. 

   His hands are on your wrist and his body is crouched over yours again before you can blink. He pins your hands beside your head, looking down at you with some wild, unbridled kind of look in his eyes. 

   “You do not get to hide from me.” His shoulders flex as he pushes your wrists down into the mattress, earning a whine from you as the pressure starts to ache. 

   “You’re mine. That means I get all of you.” He bites the words off, but keeps his voice quiet. 

   You should be scared, crying even, but the only thing you feel is exhilaration, the ache between your legs and the fluttering of your heart as he overpowers you with just the look in his eyes and a few harsh words. 

   “Do you understand me?” He eases up on your wrists slightly, looking more stern, less unhinged. 

   “I-I do, I’m sorry.” You whimper out. 

   He considers you for a brief second, eyes growing softer as he watches the way your pretty lip trembles. 

   “It’s ok.” He releases your wrists and speaks gently, “You’re ok.” 

   The reassurances makes you dizzy, especially in contrast with how rough he just was. 

   "Hold still for me, angel." Then he’s back to mouthing at your skin.

   His teeth meet your collarbone and your hands reach for his messy hair. 

   “There?” He asks against you, a smile in his voice as he lets his teeth gather your skin again. The spot he finds makes you dizzy, you feel the heat spread across your cheeks and the tips of your ears. 

   Tamaki is still stuck in his own chains, fighting against them as he focuses on the way you twitch for him, the way your body rolls when he bites harder. 

   So she likes it.

   Your body heats up, it's all so overwhelming. It's so different from anything you've ever felt, and you can't believe it's with him. 

    Then his kisses get more sloppy, his teeth are sharper against you. He leaves you shining with his spit, painted in blooming purple and red bruises as he begins his journey down your body. 

   "Da-addy." You sniffle when he bites into the underside of your breast. 

   It doesn't feel loving, it doesn't feel passionate, it just feels rough. 

   "Hush." He mumbles against you, "If you can't take this I might as well stop now." He looks up at you, challenging you. 

   "I can t-take it, I can." You breathe, nodding, looking at him with begging eyes, "Please, don't stop." 

   He honest to god growls against you. You couldn't possibly know what you do to him, how sweet your willingness sounds, how beautiful you look laid out for him. He knows he should take his time, and he resents that fact. He almost resents you for being so sweet and needy. With all the things he wants to do to you, he almost, almost, wishes you had at least some experience. This makes you his completely, though, and he wouldn’t trade that for anything. 

   His hot mouth moves lower and lower until he's tonguing at your hip bone, pulling the skin into his mouth so he can work his teeth against it. He will mark you wherever he can, as long as you'll let him. 

   Your hips roll up against him, making him smirk at how needy you're acting. 

   "Ask for it." He whispers, hungry hands slide up the outsides of your thighs, "Ask for what you want." 

   His fingers dig into the meat of your thighs, sending the breath from your lungs as he glares up at you. He lets his wet tongue loll out to give a teasing flick against the crux of your thigh. 

   You take a deep breath in and cling to the sheets for dear life, "Please, use your mouth on me." 

   He smiles so sweetly then, looking mildly amused. 

   "Here?" He goes back to that same spot, sucking and teasing, looking all too pleased with himself. 

   "Be specific, angel, tell me where you need me." 

   Tamaki knows for a fact that he didn't have to spend his time making you ask for things, he knows what you want, he knows how to give them to you. He could take whatever he needs, probably without much a fight from you, but what fun would that be? He would miss the pretty blush creeping across your skin, and the sweet little tears in your big eyes. No, he wouldn't be missing this, not for the world. 

    "I wanna feel your tongue, please, use your mouth on m-my cunt." You shiver, timid and uncertain about your phrasing. 

   It seems to do the trick though, because Tamaki's eyes nearly roll to the back of his head. 

   He answers with a low moan before grabbing you by the insides of your thighs so he can spread you open. Once the air of the room hits you, you're made painfully aware of just how soaked you are. 

   It makes Tamaki look like a wild man, all blown out pupils blushing cheeks. 

   Almost in slow motion, he presses his tongue into the spot right above your clit, making you whine and buck against his mouth. 

   "Needy little thing." He says, giving your thighs a gentle squeeze, "But I suppose I have teased enough." 

   Then he's on you, and the second his tongue meets your weak spot you know you're ruined. You know that not one person will ever hold a candle to Tamaki Amajiki. 

   He pulls away for only a second, just to whisper praises up to you, "Your cunt tastes like everything I've ever needed." 

   You huff at him in disbelief, not knowing what to say or do, heart soaring because of his confession.

   Then he dives back in, and he gets sloppy with it, setting a pace that feels so good it aches. The heat spreads through every limb, and settles somewhere deep in your chest. Everything tingles and burns, and breathing seems nearly impossible. 

   Internally, Tamaki is raging. He’s so close to losing it, he feels himself slipping, your taste spreads across his tongue is the culmination of months of watching and waiting and wanting. He wants to drown in you, he wants to rip you to shreds. No more watching you through windows, no more fucking his fist while he wishes with everything he has that it was your precious little pussy. He has you now, spread open and vulnerable. He knows he could shove your face into the pillows and let loose on you, stuff every hole with an invasive tentacle, the thought makes him even more feral, it makes him work even harder as he eats you. 

   Every roll of his tongue against your clit makes you throb and buck, which makes him growl and push you down against the mattress. He's loud and messy, slurping and moaning, letting it drip down his chin and his throat, never once letting up. 

   Your head is thrown back against the pillows, eyes drilled shut. You know damn well if you saw him, you wouldn't last another second. He builds you up until your thighs are trembling and you're a whiny little mess. 

   Perfect. 

   Suddenly, the texture of his tongue changes drastically. It's much more slippery, and much thicker. Your head shoots up, and you nearly sob at what you see. Tamaki, with his eyes wild and his jaw dropped, is letting a wicked looking tentacle hang from his mouth. 

   His quirk. 

   He smirks up at you as the tip of it writhes against your clit, flicking and circling as he watches the tears start to fall from your face. You can't possibly keep up, you didn't know anything could ever feel this good. 

   You watch the suction cups ripple as he moves the muscle against you, then he does the unthinkable. He latches one of them onto your clit. Your eyes cross and you bring a fist to your mouth so you can bite on it and muffle your screams. 

   He hates that. 

   With another rumbling growl, he lets his hands turn to tentacles as well. You watch helplessly as he snakes them up your arms, ripping your hand away from your mouth so he can pin both limbs to the bed. The tentacles are strong, surprisingly warm, and so damn slippery. 

   It's hard to tell if you're close to the edge, it's felt that way the whole time, everything feels so hot and tight and good. 

   He smiles as you cry out and thrash against the bed, full of admiration for the usefulness of his own quirk.

   “Too much! D-daddy, it’s too much.” You sniffle out as you feel a stinging feeling in your cunt, it’s not necessarily an unpleasant sting, but it’s too much.

   He ignores your objection, choosing to simply suck harder at your overstimulated sweet spot. He revels in your pitifully low threshold, planning to do so much worse to your poor, inexperienced body. 

   The ache in your cunt continues to push the tears from your eyes, and eventually, drool from your mouth. The suction cup works dutifully against your clit, making you feel so overwhelmed you don't know if you can cum. 

   Then you feel the prodding at your entrance. 

   Then you really scream. 

   Holding that one little suction cup to your clit, he snakes the tip of his tentacle into your dribbling hole. He furrows his dark brows and moans against you when he feels how tight you are, desperate to feel the velvety walls around his cock.

   "Holy fucking shit." You gasp. 

   He watches the dramatic rise and fall of your quaking chest, your baffled eyes trying to keep track of everything happening to your body, and he swears he falls even more in love. 

   You're so willing, so compliant, so at his mercy. 

   He crooks the tip of the tentacle towards himself just a bit, and it's like you've been struck by lightning. You cum hard, harder than you ever have. You're a mess of twitching limbs, shivering as your cunt clenches so hard your feel it in your fucking chest. You sob into the air, broken and tearful as he works you through it. 

   You feel the hold on your arms tighten as your body arches away from the mattress. As you feel every inch of you ignite, you know that you're ruined for everyone else. 

   As soon as you lower yourself so you're flat to the mattress, the tentacles around your arms slip away and turn back into his hands. 

   The one between your legs still plays with you a little bit, prodding at your clit, lapping up your mess. Tamaki laughs as you jump and twitch, whimpering and gasping as he milks your body for every after shock you can give him. 

   You watch him pull the tentacle back into his mouth, flicking it over his lips to gather your release before disappearing into his mouth. You watch his eyes flutter shut, you watch him shiver and you hear the sweetest little moan in the back of his throat. 

   “You’re pretty when you cry.” He mumbles, looking up at you with the most tender look in his eyes. It’s a harsh contrast with all the cum dripping down his chin. 

   “You move a lot, too. It’s fun.” He states, almost like some kind of twisted review, “I don’t mind holding you down like that.” 

   The drop in the tone of his voice makes a chill creep up your spine. 

   “In fact…” He lifts himself up so he can start to crawl up your body, “I really, really enjoyed it.”

   You gasp for words, wind stolen from your lungs as he presses his messy mouth against your sternum. 

   “Something tells me you did too.” He whispers. 

   Your voice is finally found, somewhere deep in your chest, hidden and nearly forgotten, “What makes you say that?” You ask timidly. 

   He pulls his head up to look down at you with a confident smirk, “The mess you made.” 

   To prove his point, he swipes two fingers through your folds, gathering your creamy release before holding it up to the light. He looks so damn proud, like he’s showing off. 

   “Messy girl.” He smiles, as you watch him bring his coated fingers to his lips, sucking the sin off with a greedy pop from his lips. 

   “Oh, how selfish of me.” He sighs before grabbing you by the chin, “I should share.” 

   He pulls your mouth open then slowly leans over you so he can push the mess back through his lips. You oblige like a robot, stunned by the debauchery, letting him guide you through this act. He lets it fall from his lips slowly, creating a long string from his mouth to yours. The second it hits your tongue, something clicks for you. Something dark and smokey settles in your gut, something all consuming and blinding. It rids you of boundaries and reservations, it fills you with nothing but the man in front of you. 

   He watches you with a pointed gaze, shutting your jaw for you so you can swallow what he gave you. 

   “What do you say?” He asks. 

   You feel the burn in your chest, the embers in your skin, “More, please.” 

   “Fucking hell," The words tumble out as a breath mostly, "You want more?" He questions, grabbing you by the wrist so he can place your palm just above the waist of his pants. 

   You nod up at him, vision blurred by the heat of his skin against your palm. 

   "Then take it." He leans down to say it, biting off the words. 

   A challenge. 

   You can't possibly disappoint him, you can't possibly leave him wanting. Take it? How are you supposed to take it? 

   In a wild moment of confidence, mostly your body moving without the permission of your mind, you wrap your legs around his lean hips so you can flip him onto his back. 

   Your eyes lock the second you feel him pressing against you, hard and thick, and terribly intimidating in length. 

   He watches you for a moment, then hastily grabs you by the back of the neck so he can pull you down for another kiss. It's hot and needy, full of wicked want and unabashed selfishness. It tickles your ribs, creeps up your neck, and secures itself greedily around all of your common sense. 

   Tamaki had no intentions of letting you take anything, it's a game to him. He'll let you have your moment, let you feel like you have the reigns, but he'll take it right back. His has you under control, he vows that he always will.

   Your chest flutters with a clawing, aching feeling. 

   More more more. 

   "Fuck me." It's a prayer, whimpered against his delicate lips, "Please, fuck me." You dig your hands into his hair, cherishing the sweet noises they leave him as you beg. 

   Under control.

   "Tell me you need it." He sighs, answering your prayer by sending his hands down to work urgently at his belt. 

   "Tell me you need me." 

   You bring your face back from his just enough to look into his dark eyes, and you see tears welling in them. 

   He needs to feel needed.

   "Please, I need it, I need you, Suneater." 

   Everything freezes for a brief second, the air thickens and his eyes darken as you wait with a held breath for his next move. 

   Then, everything is flying around you. You feel the bite of fingertips against your waist, your stomach hits the mattress, possibly the sound of his pants being taken off. Your senses are dulled by the raging swirl of emotions beating inside you as your hips are lifted up, and a hand shoves your face into the pillow. 

   "Who's your hero?" His voice is rough, his hand gathers your hair and cranks your head to the side, "Who is your fucking hero?" He's barking the words out now, harsh and demanding. 

   And holy hell does it get you going. 

   "You are! You're my hero, Suneater." You cry out, craning your neck to look at him. 

   You expected furrowed brows, a straight mouth and furious eyes. What you're met with is nothing of the sort. A soft pink blush across his cheeks and the tips of his pointed ears, tears wetting his cheek, and a quivering lip. 

   With your eyes on him, he makes a show of sliding his hand down his front so he can grab at his length. He lets it fall against your ass, heavy and painfully hard. 

   "Don't forget that." He says simply, sliding his thick head down through your slicked lips. 

   The contact makes you both shudder deep in your souls. 

   "Daddy, please." Your voice is pitiful as you fist the sheets and press back against him. 

   "So slutty." He muses, releasing your hair so he can run his nails down your back, "Poor thing, never been fucked, needs it so bad, doesn't she?" 

   You nod fervently and fuss as he presses his head against your tight hole. You tense and shiver, not at all prepared for what's to come. 

   "I need it, I need you, please please please." You have one thought now, no reservations, you need him. 

   "I'm gonna ruin this little cunt." He says, a warning tone in his voice. 

   The hand that was tracing your spine suddenly feels very cold and wet. 

   His damn quirk. 

   He takes his time, letting the thick tentacle slither around your waist. It wraps around you twice, teasing you with the pops of the suction cups, leaving pretty purple circles all over your abdomen. 

   He lifts you easily, pulling you up so your back is pressed against his chest. 

   "Ruin it, please, it's yours, I'm yours." You sniffle, looking down at your trapped position. 

   With a low, menacing growl, he sinks his teeth into your neck, and his cock into your heat. 

   Tamaki holds his breath, willing himself not to fill you up right this second. You're too damn tight, so warm and velvety. You're so perfect, and so completely his. 

   You sob into the air, hands reaching out to hold the headboard as you feel like you're being ripped apart. 

   "Oh don't scream, Angel, people might think something's wrong." His voice is shaking now, and the hold on your waist tightens. 

   You focus on relaxing, letting your walls lose their tension, but it's all fruitless. He's too big, he fills you too well, and all you can do is take it. 

   "Here, let me give that mouth something to do." 

   His other hand comes around to hold your throat, turning each finger into a tentacle again. It leaves you reeling and gasping as he presses further into you, wrapping what would be his middle finger around your throat. He wraps it around twice, like he did with your waist. The appendage comes up to rest its tip on your bottom lip. 

   The sensation makes you dizzy, especially when it finally snakes into your panting mouth. It doesn't really taste like anything, it just feels wet and slick, the texture of the suction cups is the strangest thing about it. He rocks his hips so gently, squeezing you tighter everywhere he's holding you. 

   You don't feel like a moth drawn to a flame, you feel like a moth caught in a spider's web. All tangled up, not willing to fight to escape, not even wanting to. 

   "You're so damn tight." He stutters out, pressing his hips flush against your own. 

   You cry out and gag against the tentacle stuffing your mouth, digging your nails into the headboard as he chuckles behind you. 

   "You're such a pretty little mess for me. Your cunt's already dripping." 

   You don't doubt it, it has to be with how badly your core aches around him as he stretches you. 

   Your thighs start to tremble as you wait for him to move, sniffling as the tears fall from your eyes and the drool spills from your lips. 

   A pretty little mess indeed. 

   Slowly, he drags his hips back with a hiss before pushing back in. He takes his time with it, building an agonizing pace that offers you no release. There's only the pressure, only your clit screaming for attention, only the maddening tease of his head against your sweet spot with every torturous push in. 

   "Fuck angel, I gotta break this pussy in, don't I?" His words pull another pitiful moan from you, nodding and whining is all you're capable of. 

   His picks up speed just enough to make you tense even more, still painful, still mind numbing. 

   "You look so fucking pretty on the end of my cock." 

   His words pour over you like hot wax, heating you up, making you drip. The heat seeps deep into your skin, making you squirm and clench. 

   He speeds his thrusting up slightly, then more, and more, and more, until you’re shrieking and choking against the tentacle stuffing your mouth. Your hands fly up to claw at it, wanting to tell him how it feels, wanting to thank him for the way he’s fucking you. 

   It’s still painful, each thrust splits you open with a sting, but it’s so damn good. The sharp stretching is absolutely spectacular, and it sends your brain into somewhere dark and smokey, it leaves you with a wide open feeling in your chest. It leaves you wanting more. 

   “What’s the matter, sweet thing?” He taunts, “Tell me about it, then, how’s Daddy make you feel?” He turns each tentacle back into a finger slowly, pulling out of your mouth, leaving you a gasping mess. 

   Through spit and tears, you praise him, words spewing out between moans as your body jolts from each punishing snap of his hips. 

   “So fucking good! You make me feel so good!” You cry, clinging to his forearm as he brings you closer to his chest. 

   The tentacle around your waist starts to slither down your stomach, “This isn’t even half of what I’m capable of doing to you,” The tip of it gives the hood of your clit a teasing flick, “-and you’re already such a slut for me.” His chuckle is dark and full as the tip of his skilled tentacle zeros in on your sweet spot, rubbing and wriggling against it until you’re screaming. 

   “Say it. Say you’re my little slut.” His words are a harsh demand against your ear, leaving no room for disobedience. 

   “I- f-fuck- I can’t! I ca-an’t!” You sob, not able to catch your breath between thrusts. 

   Tamaki eats that right up, swelling with pride as he fucks you speechless, delirious with the fact that he finally has your cunt gripping his cock. 

   Before he can bark another order at you, you finally pull the words out of your closing throat, "I'm your slut," You gasp as drool rolls down your chin, "I'm your little slut." 

   He throws his head back and throws everything he has into every thrust, his moans are obscene, high pitched and broken as he feels how hard you squeeze him when he speeds up the tip of his tentacle against your clit. 

   "Give it to me, I feel that greedy cunt tryin' to milk me, give me that fuckin cum." He huffs against your ear. Your entire body seizes up, shaking violently as ribbons of pleasure shoot through you. You pulse around Tamaki almost violently, earning some very rough sounding moans from him as he works you through it. 

   Your orgasm lasts for what feels like an eternity, you shiver with every throb of your walls. It possesses that same almost painful pleasure, and it's everything you've ever wanted. At some point, the tentacle around your waist turns to a hand, still absentmindedly rubbing you as you come down. 

   He lets your torso fall forward, leaving you bent over and exposed for him. His hands smooth over your ass, and you realize he's still so fucking hard. 

   "Can you take more, angel?"

   You nod against the tear soaked pillow you've pressed your face into, not sure that you even can, but willing to try. 

   "Good," He bends down to press kisses into your spine as he pulls out, "'Cause you're going to." 

   He pulls out, almost full of regret, wanting to live the rest of his life buried inside you.

   Now he can have some fun, mind cleared slightly by finally feeling you come undone around him. He's still hazy, still slightly frenzied, but less ravenous, less of a starved man waiting for his meal, more of a well fed man waiting for desert. 

   His hands hold your waist gently so he can guide you onto your back. You oblige, more than willing to let him have his way. 

   You finally get a good look at him, and you're astounded by just how pretty his dick looks. All pale and pink, swollen and shiny, it makes you dizzy with admiration. 

   "You're terribly beautiful." He whispers, cradling your waist so he can worship your stomach with soft kisses, "I don't believe you're even real." 

   Sweetness oozes through your tingling limbs, pouring over you like warm honey. His tender mouth brings you back down, soothes you into a state of catharsis. Your body settles, but your heart picks back up when his lips are on your hips. 

   Your eyes meet his, and you share the sentiment that he just might not be real. He pears up at you through a mess of indigo hair, eyes full of what you can only describe as devotion. 

   He explores your body with his hands, dipping his thumbs into every crook he can, palming handfuls of your plush thighs. He seems to have a soft spot for your hips though, pulling at your love handles, letting his breath speed up each time until he's panting against you. 

   With every pull of his hands, you bend for him, push into him, work with him. You both find a rhythm, falling into an easy dance of grabbing and needing. 

   "I want to keep you." He breathes, placing a hand on either side of your waist so he can lift himself over you, "I want to have you." 

   He gathers your legs while he speaks, hooking his hands under your knees so he can fold you up. 

   "You have me." You whisper, reaching out to lay your fingers on the sides of his ribs. 

   You watch his skin twitch under your touch, you watch his eyebrows sag into an almost heartbroken look. 

   He looks down between your bodies, quivering when he sees his heavy cock resting against your stomach. He feels so incredibly proud of you in that moment, for taking him so well, and asking for more. 

   She's mine. She said I have her. 

   The concept brings another wave of primal desire crashing down on his self control. 

   His fingers dig into your skin, biting at the flesh, spreading you open for him as he puts his weight on your legs. 

   You clench in anticipation, teased by the pressure of his hot length resting against you. 

   "I can take it." You say quietly, sliding your hands up his lean body so you can lace them into his inky hair. 

   He melts into your touch, stunned by your gorgeous submission. 

   "Fuck, angel." His words are shattered as they fall from his lips. 

   You reach down between your bodies and wrap your hand around his weeping tip. He trembles and hiccups as you push him down so he's lined up with where you need him. 

   "Please, I want all of it." m. 

   “Careful.” He pants, looking down at you with a warning in his eyes. 

   It doesn’t create hesitation in you though, only curiosity. 

   “We’re being careful now?” You tease, sliding him up and down your slit. 

   “You little devil.” He hisses, grabbing your wrist harshly, “You think you’re cute, don’t you?” 

   You freeze and blink up at him, once again shocked by his quick change in temperament. 

   “You wanna act like a tease now?” He questions, bringing your hand up so he can press it into the mattress with his. 

   “Did you find yourself a cute little attitude?” His voice drips with venom, it bites at your insides and melts your skin. 

   “That’s ok, angel.” He lets your hand go so he can press on the backs of your thighs again, successfully folding you completely in half, “I’ll fuck it out of you.” 

   Before you can breathe, blink, or respond, he’s splitting you open with a brutal pace. He laughs deep in his chest when you cry out, he mocks you when your hands fly to his abs in an attempt to slow his assault. A wicked smile spreads across his pretty face when tears stain your flushed cheeks once again. 

   “Cryin’ again so soon? Is it too much, baby? You need Daddy to slow down?” He’s testing you, only thrusting harder as he taunts you for your sobbing and moaning. 

   “No!” You gasp between tears, “Don’t stop, please, fuck me like that.” 

   “That’s my girl.” 

   His thrusts are ruthless, sharp, unforgiving. He rocks your body and the bed with each plunge in, headboard crashing against the wall. Each drive into you is enchanting, it teaches you something new, opens new doors, shows you a new, brilliant world of depravity. The way the pleasure shoots all the way up your spine with every drag of his cock, it’s something you want to feel until you die, you’d even be happy if this is the way you die. 

   You watch him disappear inside of you over and over, pulling out just as quick, covered in slick and sin. Tamaki is in his own feral world, watching your lovely face crumble and pout as he fills you. His hands are angry against the back of your thighs, nails digging in hard enough to bring little pearls of scarlet to the surface. 

   When you start to whine from the sting, he flashes you a lazy smile before stuffing his fingers into your mouth. He presses the blood covered fingertips into your tongue just enough to make drool spill from the sides of your mouth. 

   “Hush, you’ll learn to love it.”

   His smile turns wolfish when he watches your eyes roll back. It’s all so black-hearted, it’s everything you’ve kept yourself from, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted. 

   You both throb and cry then, your bodies smack as they meet, obscene and wet as you chase your undoing. Tamaki knows he’s not going to last much longer, and he curses himself for it. He doesn’t want to stop, especially when you wince so sweetly when his thrusts are a little too deep. He wants to watch you suck his fingers forever, crying against his palm as he turns you into his perfect little slut. 

   “You’re gonna give me one more, aren’t you, angel? You owe me that, I saved your life after all.” He slides his fingers from your mouth, dragging your spit down your chin before grabbing you by the throat, “Answer if you can, I know it must be hard to speak when you’re getting fucked this good.” 

   His words drown you in lust, your hands claw at his back, painting angry red lines down the pretty porcelain canvas, “Take it! Fuck- Take it, Suneater, take it all.” 

   It’s not a demand, it’s a plea, it’s a craving formed deep within your freshly corrupted heart. 

   Your begging pulls desperate, whiny sounds from him. With his eyes screwed shut he lets the hand on your thigh manifest the tentacles in place of his fingers. He throws all of his energy into that, trying to stall the twitching of his dick as your hot insides massage him with their relentless pulsing.   

   “Are you sure about that?” He tests, letting the tentacles snake around your thigh before slithering down to where your bodies meet. 

   Immediately, one starts flicking at your clit, making your back go rigid as he grins down at his good work. 

   You wail his name, nails biting at his skin even more but he pays no mind. He has a mission, he’s going to take all of it. 

   He focuses on making his tentacles grow, two long enough to reach up your body and tug at your nipples, and one other snaking down through the mess you’re making to prod at your asshole. Your eyes widen with shock as your body ignites, it’s too much, it’s all too much. Every sensation is heightened, every poke and flick and thrust sends shards of pleasure flying through you, piercing you from every direction. 

   You let yourself cry completely then, throwing your head against Tamaki’s collar bone before sobbing into his chest. You know you’re cumming, you can feel it somewhere amongst all the other stimulation, but it’s nearly drowned out, and Tamaki is still fucking you just as hard as he was when this all started. 

   “More, you have more for me, I fucking know it.” He huffs as he finally pushes into your ass with the tentacle. 

   The ones on your nipples latch on with their suction cups as he fills you more and more. 

   “Give it to me, angel, give it all to your hero.” 

   That’s the final push, the last thing you need to send you into the most frenzied orgasm you’ve ever experienced. Your vision goes white as your body convulses, ripped apart by the flames of euphoria that turn everything you’ve ever known to ash. Somewhere in the distance you hear Tamaki praising you, telling you how tight you feel, how beautiful you look, how good you are for him. 

   It’s lost in the fray, though, all blurring together as you shake violently around him. The only thing that brings you back slightly, is the break in his voice when he sobs, “I’m gonna stuff that little cunt with my cum, I’m gonna make you mine.”

   Your hand is at the back of his neck instantly, pulling him down for a messy, aimless kiss. His moans spill into your mouth as his hips falter, turning to slow, stuttering thrusts as he starts to pump his release deep into you. 

   “I’m yours - I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours.” You chant it against his lips as his tears fall to your cheeks, mixing with your own as you both shatter for each other.

   Coming back down isn't easy at all. It's slow and needy, your hands still pulling at whatever skin they can grab, hips rolling against each other, trying with everything you both have to prolong that rapturous feeling. 

   Frantically, painfully, he pulls himself out of you. He slides his hot mouth down your body, nipping and sucking as he descends to your messy cunt. He spreads your legs wide so he can bury his face between them. He teases your clit briefly, but moves quickly to press his open mouth against your hole.

   Your skin boils as you watch the nasty show. His eyes cross sinfully and flutter shut as he tongue at your well used pussy. When he pulls back, his chin is covered in some wretched mixture of your combined releases. He moves back up your body like an animal stalking its prey.

   He grabs your jaw and you open so willingly. His mouth is on yours instantly, pushing the warm liquid onto your tongue with his own. It’s a spunky, intense flavor, almost overwhelming as he spreads it around your mouth. It creates a dark, blurry feeling in your chest, though. It makes you feel alive, it makes you want more.

   He pulls back slowly, a thick string of saliva and sin connecting your lips as he pants down at you. 

   “You’re such a good little girl.” 

   His lips are everywhere, pressing against your cheekbones, your nose, your forehead. His hands return to normal so he can cradle your face. You both lay there, still joined, catching your breath. 

   "Angel?" 

   The tenderness in his voice pulls you back down to earth, and when you open your eyes, you find yourself lost in his. It’s a harsh but marvelous contrast with the sharp edges of his previous behavior.

   "Does anything h-hurt?" He asks timidly. 

   The stutter is back, the anxious look in his eyes, the restlessness in his hands. 

   You reach out to hold his face like he's holding yours, "Tamaki, no, nothing hurts. You made me feel so good." 

   You don't ever want to be a source of hesitation for him again. You want to make it better. He's brilliant, he's brave, he saved your damn life. He doesn't need to be so scared around you. 

   "You're my hero, Suneater." You pull him down for a soft, intimate kiss. 

   He breathes out against you, more of his tears wet your cheeks but you don't mind. 

   He's allowed to feel this, he earned this. 

   When the kiss breaks he searches your face, waiting for you to laugh at him, to push him off, to change your mind. 

   You don't, though. 

   You stay there with him, loving him and full of him. 

   "And you're mine." 

   You both settle there, kissing skin that hasn't been kissed before, finding ways to make each other fall even more. 

   Tamaki tells himself he did the right thing. You don't ever have to know why Dabi chose your house to break into. You don't ever need to be told that he spent endless nights watching you from the window, because he has you know. 

   It would be wrong of him to tell you, you wouldn't understand it. It would break your heart and ruin everything. Then, it would get messy. You might try to run away, and that would mean he'd have to keep you in different ways. 

   He shakes the thoughts from his head. He can keep you like this, laid out and blushing for him, so soft and beautiful. 

   You belong to him now, and that's all that there is. 

   "Can I take care of you?” He asks softly, playing with the necklace he gave you as he gives you a shy glance. 

   “You just did.” You let yourself laugh a little as you play with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

   “No, not like that.” He smiles softly, dipping down to kiss your neck so softly you almost can’t feel it, “Like this.” 

   He presses his lips against a mark you didn’t know he made, lingering for a moment as his eyes flutter shut. 

   “These say that you’re mine.” His thumb traces over one of the circular bruises on your ribs, “They say you have someone protecting you.”

   The prospect makes your heart soar. He’s right, belonging to him means you’ll always be safe, you’ll always have somebody willing to fight for you, maybe even somebody willing to stay with you. 

   “This says that you belong to me.” He loops a finger around the delicate pearl on your necklace, pulling gently, not enough to make you go anywhere, but enough to make you feel the metal tug against the back of your neck. 

   ‘You do belong to me, don’t you.” He asks, a wild, fearful look in his eyes. 

   You do, you just told him so, you just cried to him and vowed that you were his just moments ago. 

   “I do, I belong to you, I swear.” You reassure him, pulling a deep sigh from his chest. 

   You don’t understand the way he aches for you, the way he’s addicted to you. He was already hooked, from just glances and flighty touches. Now, having felt your soft skin, the tuck of your waist, having seen you cry and heard you call his name, he’s willing to admit his obsession. 

   He does take care of you, he does it beautifully. He carries you to the bathroom where he sets you on the edge of the tub. He fills it with warm, soapy water before picking you up bridal style so he can settle into the water with you in his lap. 

   Neither of you bother to turn a light on, content with the glow of the moon shining through the skylight. Tamaki paints your shoulders with soft kisses as he rubs soothing circles into your back. He takes his sweet time, wiping away the sweat and the tears, mindful of the tender spots on the back of your thighs. 

   “Beautiful, you’re so beautiful.” He sighs, “An angel, nothing less.” 

   You melt into him, lost in his praise, blinded by his devotion as well as your own. 

   Tamaki is just as lost, if not more, only becoming more possessive with every gentle touch, with every whispered adoration. 

   This is how it’s meant to be, and you don’t ever need to know how it all fell into place. He did the right thing, after all. This isn’t a problem, he’s in love. He’s in love and now he has you. 

   He intends on keeping it that way.

[fandomscombine]

Exploding Stink Bomb

Platonic!Weasley Twins x Reader

BG: Chaos ensues when the twins steal your latest prank invention. How much worse could it be when innocent people are caught in the mess?

WC:1744

Entry for @feetoffthetable​ 's 500 writing challenge. A week late I know-sorry! Cause I lost the initial draft. (Note: Do NOT trust auto save that much) So I had to rewrite it.

The prompts are taken from Random Prompts List No. 4 and No.11. (Are in bold in the text)

4. “…Are they dead?” “I don’t know! Why don’t you ask them!”

11. “You’re being remarkably calm about this.” “Thanks, it’s the shock. Give me fifteen minutes, the screaming will happen.”

>>>MASTERLIST<<<

Fred Weasley, George Weasley and Y/n L/n, also known as 'The Pranksters Trio' of modern day Hogwarts.

It is the winter of senior year, and your stress levels are increasing by the day. NEWTS are to be held in a couple of months and you have managed to procrastinate completing your mock papers. At this rate, you would get a passing grade but in all honesty you know that wouldn’t cut it, you know your abilities. If you actually put effort in your subjects you can bump a level up.

You've made a deal with your parents that if you had completed your practice papers, you could spend the last week of the Christmas holiday with the Weasleys.

Which you are; 3 days in, 4 days left till school.

'What your parents don't know won't hurt them...' You mumble to yourself as you stir the bubbling green mixture clockwise.

See you haven't finished the potions assignment yet. Your parents thought you did last week, but in reality what you were working on was a little fantastic smelling concoction that could contribute to the twins' upcoming new joke shop merchandise lineup!

During the journey to King’s Cross, Fred had come up to you and asked if you could help brainstorm a new product that would blow people's minds away. Of course you agreed, a multitude of ideas already brewing, you would do anything to help out your friends.

That night, it was all you could think about. Naturally you are itching to get started, before the thought flies away. Pushing your potions textbook aside, you got to work. It took 18 hours of no sleep but it paid off. The product was now in your hands.

A shiny burgundy shimmering marble-like sphere. The final product was smaller than the blueprint- the amount of ingredients you had on hand in your muggle household were limited- you do a mental note on raiding the potions supply closet once back in school for dragon hide.

But when you do finally have all the resources, the sphere should be the size of a baseball.

For now, at 30% of the ideal size, this mini test sphere could stink up a small bedroom. Which is enough to do damage but also has a small enough impact that you fix if anything were to go wrong.

BAM! You knew the quiet was too good to last.

“y/n/n, my dear!” Greeted Fred, waltzing into Ginny’s room.

“Are you--” George placed his hand on the door, stopping it from slamming back to his face. “Oi! Why’d you have to kick the door so hard? You could have ruined my handsome face!” He shouted to his twin.

Dropping your quill back into the ink bottle you sighed. “Nooo, how many times do I have to tell you? I’ll be finished when I’m finished. Most likely tomorrow, the earliest.”

“Why can’t you just let US test it though?” voiced George.

“Because I came up with it and it’s the only one we’ve got!” You reasoned. “I wanna see it when it explodes!”

Right then, the boys’ eyes lit up.

“IT EXPLODES?!?!?” They exclaimed in union.

“SHIT!” It was too late to cover it up. The secret is out.

The twins shared a look, you don’t really believe in twin telepathy but in the case of your 2 best friends and mischief, they almost always are on the same page.

You are sent flying sideways off your chair and hit the air mattress. “Offph! George! Let….me….go!” With all your might, you try to push George off you but to no avail. The muscles built up during quidditch training are to his advantage.

In the other side of the room, Fred is rummaging through your trunk, eagerly looking for the mysterious and highly sought after invention.

Although he may not know what it looks like, Fred is still one of your accomplices in sneaking prank items to school, meaning he and Geroge know all the secret compartments in your trunk. As do you with their trunks.

This setup made sense, it was a precautionary method devised so that in a matter of incoming danger or when suspected of something, the others could easily get rid of any incriminating evidence.

The system is perfect! Well expect now when it backfired on you.

“AHA GOT IT!”

Your face snaps to the direction of the voice. Cursing internally, right there, raised high above Fred’s head is the prized Exploding Stink Bomb.

“WICKED!” cried George. While the twins are reveling in their success, you took the chance to push George off you and launch towards Fred.

While George was caught off guard, Fred had the few seconds in which you got up to process what was happening and sprinted towards the door.

“IMMA GET YOU FRED!”

“LET’S SEE THAT SMALL LEGS!”

“GOT YA! AHHHHH--” One moment you had your hand on Fred’s shoulder, next you felt a tug on your waist. “GEORGE LET. ME. GO”

“No can do y/n/n.”

His hold wasn’t enough to hurt you, but it was certainly tighter. “Learned from your earlier mistake eh” You teased.

“Just caught me off guard” George reasoned.

Fred walking backwards, bids his farewell. “See you Suckers!” He shouted, taking a bow. With that he disappears round the corner.

A THUD.

“Ginny!”

You and George shared a look of confusion, what was going on?

Arriving at the scene, you are not surprised to see a sneering Ginny.

“That’s what you get for going in my room!”

What you’re more surprised to see is a frantic Fred. You knew that Ginny is fully capable of being terrifying but this was all in good fun right?

Slowly George walked up to his brother. “Freddie what’s wrong?”

“The ball… it slipped”

Eyes wide, your heart starts to beat faster. “Where…?”

You barely had gotten the question out, the answer is given.

As if on cue, you hear shouts coming from your right, Ron’s room.

Ginny being the closest, beats all of you to the door. When it opened, you catch the faint bit of purple smoke before it completely clears away, no other evidence of the stink ball in sight-you smile at the result, hard work does pay off.

‘Now is not a time to be happy y/n’ you told yourself. Your gaze reached the unconscious bodies on the two beds. “Well that’s…..uhh... new...”

Here are 4 guilty looking teenagers looking at the scene of the crime.

Ginny gingerly poked Ron’s side, keeping a fair distance away just in case he jolts back. “…Are they dead?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“I don’t know! Why don’t you ask them!” George paused his pacing to point his finger at both you and Fred.

“Hey! I am not the one you had thrown the stink bomb into the room!” You said defensively. “Besides I told you to test it when I’m ready! BUT NOOOO… you two wanted it now WITHOUT EVEN KNOWING IT’S FULL CAPACITY AND RESTRICTIONS!”

“I…..I…” When George couldn’t come up with a come back, he changed tactics. Turning to Fred he challenges. “You’re being remarkably calm about this.”

Fred, who was still standing rooted at the entryway, replied. “Thanks, it’s the shock. Give me fifteen minutes, the screaming will happen.”

“What the heck happened anyway?” asked Ginny.

“Yea, I thought it was just a stink bomb that could explode!” added George.

“It is just an exploding stink bomb!”

“Then why are they unconscious?” George’s panic becomes more evident as in addition to his pacing, his voice is now an octave higher.

“I think that the stink bomb was too powerful for such a small room.” Sighing, you gestured to the closed windows. “There’s no adequate ventilation too. Must have cause them to inhale a larger concentration”

“How long will they be out?”

“I don’t know Ginny…really.” You shrug. “It could be hours, one to two at best.”

“TWO HOURS?!?” The twins say in union despite one clearly in utter distress while the other scarily unmoving.

Fred gripped his hair, placed his head in between his thighs and let out a scream that could rival a lion.

George now having lost hope of his brother functioning, took charge. “Mum is gonna be back any second now. What are we gonna do?”

“Well, first…we’re gonna check the boy’s condition again for progress” You suggest, dragging Ginny to check on hair while you check on Ron.

“Then..we’re gonna say..”

“GOT YA!” You 4 shout, finger guns at the ready.

“Wait.. WHAT?!!?? WHAT’S HAPPENING?” George looks at Harry and Ron- who are surprisingly alright and laughing their heads off, to you and GInny looking very smug.

Fred tilts his red face up to the commotion.

“YOU JUST GOT PRANKED! SAY CHESSE!” You announced, indicating to Ginny with the camera.

“Cheeseee” murmured the twins in defeat.

~

“How’d you do it?”

You knew that they would be back with questions. You keep them on the edge as you finish up your potions essay.

"You lot are predictable."

"Predictable?" George scoffed.

Tidying up the study table you continue "Mhhhmmm hmmm. Predicted that you would test it out on Ron, knew that you would try to steal it from me cause you both are very impatient- especially you Fred."

"Heyy!"

"But how did you wake up Harry and Ron?" Piped George. "We shook them but they were still unconscious!"

"Ah George ever the curious. It's simple really." You lay on the bed with hands behind your head, enjoying this moment of outsmarted the boys. "Your siblings were all very tired of been pranked so when we saw an opportunity to have you taste of your own medicine we grab them chance."

You glance at them.

"The time of you setting off the stink bomb is unknown but we were ready. I've made a nose blocker chewing gum while I was tinkering with the foul smell of the stink bomb."

"No sense of smell, no effect." stated Fred.

"Exactly, the rest I'd just improv and acting! The boys weren't actually unconscious, just a temporary numbing spell which Ginny and I reversed when we checked on them."

Sitting back up, you continued.

"What I didn't predict was how crazy you with react. I've never seen you two gone off the rails scared shirtless like that before." You admitted. "Priceless."

"And now you have a photo of it" grumbled George.

"And video too!"

"WHAT?"

Taglist [All/General]: @gruffle1

HP Taglist: @onlyfreds

[romanceboys]

(interview) w korea september issue 2020 — reptile

1. i was surprised to learn that this is your 13th year since debut. within a company, the years almost reflect the experience of a vice department head. that’s right. though there are things i’m seeing for the first time at this point, i think there’s a lot that has remained the same. shall i tell you something funny? early in the year, i transformed into my debut appearance from when i was 16 with a bowl haircut and had my picture taken. i put it up on instagram and as i watched my fans briefly mistake it for an old picture, i thought to myself ‘well at least my face hasn’t aged much yet.’ haha. 2. today, i get to meet one of the personalities i’ve been very curious about personally. how should i put it, you seem like a person who possesses a perfect narrative. oh my, thank you. 3. maturing steadily after debuting with shinee in middle school, you broke away from your image as the group’s youngest and instead donned the clothes of a solo musician. all 5 of your solo albums have been recorded as hits. now you are a member of superm that has gone global. even a narrative within a coming-of-age novel could not be as sturdy as this.  when i look back on my life, i find it quite fascinating. i entered the company at the age of 13, and this year i turned 28. i’ve lived half of my life as a singer, i realise this when i think ‘i’ve run along the same path for a long time’. i think... i’ve been very greedy. it was through this greed that i was able to debut in a team called shinee, and consequently receive solo plans. once, producer lee sooman told me to bring him a recording of any pop song. wondering ‘what’s going on?’ i prepared for it and submitted, and soon after my solo album was released. thinking back, it must’ve been a test. i felt a sense of accomplishment in these things. that too very deeply, of course luck was on my side too. 4. a methodical company like sm couldn’t have proposed a solo career so lightly. there were a couple of tell-tale signs as far as i could tell. my singing parts were little during debut. after all taemin had the image of the one in charge of dancing. then my parts started to increase gradually, this could’ve been one of the signs. back in the day i used to stay back in the practice room till dawn. the employees working late would see me and the word probably went around. they must have felt sorry for me. a skinny boy practising by himself till dawn (laughs). 5. were you the type to stay back later than the rest in the practice room? i would go to the practice room as soon as we wrapped up our schedule. i’d practice till sunrise then return to the dorm and prepare for the next schedule immediately, i spent a long time doing this. 6. it was at the time of ‘sherlock’ in 2012 that your stage presence started to shine in shinee’s stages. thereafter, it seemed that you enjoyed your time on stage thoroughly. when did you begin to realise that only you were in command of your own stage? there were a couple of times... sherlock was one of them. sherlock was an album that came out when i was 20, right after becoming an adult, it was then my attitude towards performance changed. in those days i challenged myself to ‘not to do what was expected/fixed.’ usually our gestures at certain sections of the song are fixed beforehand, from sherlock onwards however i tried my hand at different things without reserve. it was my way of approaching the audience with sincerity, and my way of improving in the future. back then i would notice variations (in my performance) everyday when i monitored myself. 7. frankly, isn’t it difficult for someone to have made such a prominent leap? i think it might have been because of the long hiatus before sherlock. i was able to prepare well so my growth was likely more obvious when i stood on stage after a long time. how should i put it, my members were very stimulating for me. since the hyungs aren’t ordinary people (laughs). this is something i’m confident about, even if you say that most of the shinee members are main vocalists, none of us is inferior to the other, everyone is so talented. with these thoughts verbatim ‘i must survive in here,’ ‘i need to finish what i started,’ i practiced. i couldn’t not have made the leap with such stimulation and not to mention my greedy nature (laughs). spending time together with the members made me realise that we started to resemble each other in some aspects, thanks to them i was able to broaden my perspective and become aware of my undiscovered talents. 8. the prologue single ‘2 kids’ of your third album ‘never gonna dance again’ released in august. as i was listening to the song, i suddenly became curious about the lyricist and looked them up. my impression was that the language of the lyrics was raw and honest. the lyricist turned out to be you. my intention was to include everyday, colloquial speech. i’ve written poetic and abstract lyrics before, but while working on ‘2 kids’ i wanted the listeners to easily grasp the emotions at once. since i’ve released many songs like ‘danger’ with vivid concepts and sensual performances, i expected there to be some distance between me and the public. i found that i shouldn’t stray too far. in any case, i’m a pop singer. i thought to myself let’s meet the public halfway, and the result was the lyrics for ‘2 kids.’ it’s the brightest of all my title tracks (laughs). 9. i find two interesting points here. first, you are completely aware of your identity as a pop singer, second, to do that you work hard to keep close to the public. of course there are times when it doesn’t work out (laughs). for instance, when we’re deciding on the title track for a shinee album, my opinions always diverge from the members’. after listening to our fourth album title track ‘view,’ i said ‘no way, it can never be this!’ (laughs). what i’m after is, how shall i put it... there is a side to me that wants to experience things profoundly. for example, if i were to express love, instead of depicting it one-dimensionally, i’d prefer to do it maniacally. i like taking it one step further to appear twisted.  10. that’s amusing. it’s probably because i’ve seen your easy-going appearance on tv a lot, i would have never guessed for you to approach things ‘deeply’. profound people tend to be like that. ‘multi’ people are able to do several things at once, i can’t do that. i have to dig into things deeply at a time. that’s why when my members and i receive the same schedule notice, i’m the only one who always forgets it (laughs). 11. oho, this makes me curious about your taste in pop culture.  i really like the british drama <black mirror>. i get hooked on the unusual. like mind-boggling things? i used to watch movies that weren’t popular because such movies are less likely to repeat contents that have already been consumed. but then i slowly began to enjoy light films as well. these days i leave a movie running in the background while i do other things. back when i would look for an independent film or thriller of my liking, i’d get extremely exhausted after watching it. they require so much focus that they sap my energy. 12. we were talking about lyrics but somehow ended up here (laughs). if you were given the opportunity to write lyrics again, what kind of story do you want the lyrics to convey? i like philosophical lyrics. for instance, a song called ‘soldier’ from my solo album deals with religious content, it varies from time to time of course but well if i were to write again... i think about this a lot these days. i want to change myself, i want to shake off my image uptil now and be reborn again. 13. why is that? i want a colour that is more concentrated and unique. as if i'm debuting again, i want to show something completely new that i had not before. 14. but aren’t your comebacks always novel? a musician like you who does diverse and experimental concepts is rare. is that so? sure the concepts are always new but... these days i think about how i want to change myself as a person from the very inside. instead of putting a facade on display, i have a thirst for wanting to show a more humane, genuine appearance. all humans experience moments of weakness and dysfunction. i think these moments definitely hold some beauty in them. the moment a person breaks down. it’s the only way one can get up and overcome difficulties again, i believe showing these sides of me, all of me, unabashedly is a path i need to walk as an artist now. 15. honestly, i’m excited for your third album because i heard this album reflects your ideas the most. what aspects of the production were different this time? firstly, i personally cast and liaised with the music video director. i thought it was important to work with the director one-on-one by keeping mediators to a minimum. through several meetings we mulled over every single thing like concept, outfit, hair and makeup. i offered my opinions too: ‘because i’m thinking of leaving a connecting link in the prologue, since there are two albums that would release following ‘2 kids,’ i want to drop certain keywords in the music video.’ fans usually call this a ‘bait’ (laughs). 16. the choreography stood out the most in the ‘2 kids’ music video. you weren’t simply moving to the rhythm, rather weren’t you moving your body guided by emotions? actually there were barely any plans to include dancing scenes. but i thought you never know so i quickly prepared a choreography the day before i left for paris. initially, i had a ‘dramatised’ (borrowing elements from drama) choreography in mind, but the director was expecting something modern. in the end, we expressed it well with a choreography that the director and i came up with after finding the perfect common ground. 17. personally i think a dramatised choreography would have been quite alright because ‘2 kids’ is a universal love song. i told the director i wanted to look miserable and pathetic through and through, like falling into a bottomless pit, wrecked, to be found waking up in the middle of the street, that would do too. why did i want to be that wrecked? i don’t know. there’s just a lot that exists within me. and i might have wanted to express that.... 18. with your first solo mini album <ace> you proved your grit as a solo musician to the public, and i believe your second album <move> reified your colour. i think taemin is a musician who doesn’t need to prove himself anymore. having reached this status, you’re releasing your next album <never gonna dance again>. did you ever think that this album could be it? rather, i hope that this album can be my ‘turning point.’ just as how it was during sherlock, i hope this time it changes my identity completely, as an individual and as a performer. people might like this album or find it mediocre, but i try not to care about these things now. 19. were you the type to stress over feedback? yes. because there are many people who are uncomfortable with change. but then i realised we’d never be able to free ourselves from within if we continued to be tied down. so now i’m trying to notice these things less. 20. have you ever had this thought? that looking back, the experimental has always revolved around you. as i said before, i think there is a lot of something within me (laughs). people have recognized that, there’s a lot i want to do. there is a greed for wanting to be different from others. it’s not that i want to ‘appear’ different but truly be different. 21. do you think there is an aspect of you that others can’t follow? i can’t seem to figure it out. i’m looking for it. however, my satisfaction level with myself tends to be low. and it’s something that has been guiding me till now. 22. what helps you recharge the most? i like lower-body bathing so much (laughs). as soon as i get into the bath, i automatically end up going ‘euu’ ‘aah.’ i soak my body completely, light up a scented candle, then let my body warm up like this. 23. while watching your vlog-like youtube content taem-log, i wondered ‘does he have an affinity for household goods?’ since the camera often captured your surroundings, i noticed pretty glasses and a colourful coffee machine adorning your cupboard. not at all. my mother did all of that (laughs). she’d say ‘this would suit taemin~’ then set it up prettily for display on the shelves. sometimes i do think i’d like to furnish my house with antiques if i were to move in the future. this is a bit funny but i find the houses in old horror movies so pretty. 24. i saw a bottle of moët & chandon in your refrigerator, is champagne your regular choice of alcohol? i rarely drink. i usually receive gifted alcohol quite a lot, it all goes to my father (laughs). my mother brought the moët & chandon and left it in there. i asked her to leave a pretty bottle in there at least for decoration purposes, so she probably brought it just for that? (laughs). 25. what kind of a person is 28-year-old taemin? i sort of want to set things ablaze. i want to put up a spectacular finale of the opening act. 26. how do you want to be remembered as a musician? as a great person. i say this knowing it sounds a bit grandiose but it’s my mission.  27. i can see it. the bigger you become the larger the impact you can have on society. i will become that person. so that many people can hear the message i want to convey.

translated by romanceboys — take out with full credit (source)

[kaitoujokerscans]

The Night the Silver Cape is Set Ablaze CH7

<7> Joker Breaks In!

Around the same time, another phantom thief — Joker — was hard at work on another caper. This particular caper was...

"Huuuh? A... recipe?" Hachi asked as a stiff breeze blew against his face. Joker, similarly buffeted by the wind, forced a smile as he answered.

"Yep, exactly! Sounds interesting, doesn't it?"

"But that's not important right nooooooooooooow!" Hachi said, screaming. They were falling rapidly. They were in the sky, several thousand meters above the ground. It was cold, and the air was extremely thin. Furthermore, the two of them were freefalling without any open parachutes. It was enough to make him envious of Hosshi, who was staying at home today. "W-What are we s-supposed to do here!?"

"We'll be fine. We've got this." Joker pointed out the thin layer of fabric between the arms and torso on the bodysuits they were wearing. "This is called a wingsuit. It's used to glide through the sky. We can land at our destination without attracting attention this way."

What Joker said reached Hachi's ears over the radio. But it was pitch black all around them, and the only things he could see were the city lights twinkling far below. The sheer terror got the better of him and he could hardly think straight. It was a far cry from how they usually flew with Balloon Gum. All Hachi knew at the moment was that they were headed somewhere Joker had sent an advance notice to.

"What's this recipe supposed to beeeeeee!?" Hachi yelled. Joker answered as he normally would.

"Hachi, you've heard of the soft drink called 'Riviera', yeah?"

"I-I know about it, but...!"

"The recipe for it is one of the world's best-kept secrets, and it's only known to a handful of people!"

"I-Is that so?"

Joker and Spade both love Riviera, the drink of choice enjoyed all over the world. It's served in restaurants everywhere and can be found in any vending machine. It tastes like a mix of sweet syrup and tangy tonic. It's excellent for chugging, and Hachi likes to drink it on occasion himself.

Hachi was quite the cook himself, but true enough, he had no idea what made Riviera taste like that.

"After all, if the recipe got out and suddenly anyone was able to make it, they wouldn't be able to sell their drinks, right? So only the top members of the company that makes Riviera know the ingredients and their ratios."

"T-That makes sense...!"

"Word is that the secret recipe is kept at the company's innermost level, strictly guarded in a safe."

"Joker-san, don't tell me the reason why you're trying to steal the recipe is because you just want to drink a limitless supply of Riviera?"

"Heh heh, it's a secret♪"

"That doesn't tell me anything!"

The duo continued to drop rapidly. Hachi took a glimpse down and saw right below — well, probably still a few hundred meters away — the lights from houses and tail lamps of cars driving on the road. The color drained from his face.

"All right, it's about time for us to start gliding. Spread your wings!"

"Okaaaaaaaay!"

Joker and Hachi unzipped their wings. While they were still falling at the same speed, suddenly they were zooming at an angle. It was like they were slipping down a playground slide. Their untethered bodies skimmed through the air like gliders, and a blast of wind hit Joker and Hachi's faces from the front this time.

"I see it! Over there!"

A large building blurred into sight. It was conspicuously distinct from the other structures around it. The whole building was curvilinear and shaped like a bottle. A bottle of Riviera, in fact. It was already nighttime, so there were no lights streaming out of the windows.

"We're gonna land on the bottlecap!"

Joker made it sound easy, but from where they were, it would've been like placing a speck of dust on the tip of a toothpick. If they weren't attentive and precise about it, they'd fall headlong into the ground instead. Even so, Joker didn't drop speed. Confidently, he plunged straight toward the Riviera bottlecap.

Joker had the courage to dive right into things without hesitation. Hachi admired that. It used to be that Hachi thought about every possible consequence and would often end up not doing anything at all because he was afraid of failing. But Joker typically took action as soon as he came up with a plan. He had once asked Joker about it before.

"Joker-san, how are you so brave?"

"Well, you never know what'll happen until you try, yeah?"

"But isn't that even scarier if you don't know how it'll turn out?"

"It's the other way around. There's only so much in the world that people can imagine. Most of what actually happens is stuff you never would have expected. So don't you think it's better to just do it?"

"You might have a point..."

"Master once told me that 'knowledge can't beat experience'. Which means that right now, I'm no match for Master. But if you flip your thinking, that means that if I get all kinds of experience, one day I'll be able to win against Master. If I'm too scared to try anything, I'll never be able to beat him," Joker said with a smile, and started writing the advance notice for his next target.

When he heard the reason why Joker had so much motivation and the things Silver Heart had taught him, Hachi felt like he understood. It was exactly because Joker didn't know what was going to happen next that he was always able to act immediately.

"Okay, we're almost there, Hachi!"

Joker's yell brought Hachi back to the present. The Riviera bottlecap roof was coming up to meet him. The rooftop seemed to function as a small heliport.

"Drop your speed on the count of one-two-three!"

"Roger!" Hachi acknowledged and gripped the cord on the side of the wing. He had been told that when he pulled it, he would slow down.

"All right, on your mark! One..."

Hachi tightened his grip on the cord and adjusted his timing.

"Two..."

Hachi was ready to pull on "three", but then Joker said:

"...and..."

"WHAT!? 'And'!?" In his surprise, Hachi pulled the cord on instinct. A tailored parachute billowed out and he slowed down dramatically. At that speed, he was going to drop down before he made it over the bottlecap.

"Oh shoot! Hachi!" Joker pulled his cord. Losing speed, he changed orientation so that he was now facing Hachi. He caught him in both arms.

"Joker-san!"

"We'll be fine! We should be able to make it, just barely!"

But Joker was just saying that to calm him down. The duo stalled in the air as they were almost to the bottlecap roof. Just out of reach, they slowly dropped down. Without anything supporting his weight, a chill ran down his spine.

"Agh, and we were so close, too~" Joker commented laxly. "That's the end of that. My Balloon Gum's in a pocket underneath my wingsuit..."

"Whaaaat!? Please, that's not funny!" Hachi exclaimed. He promptly pulled one of his ninja tools, a grappling hook, out of his pocket and tossed it up. The hook caught on the rooftop fence with a clank and the two of them stopped in midair.

"Whoa! Thanks, Hachi!"

The two of them climbed up the rope and finally made it onto the rooftop.

"What was that about!? You said to pull the cord on the count of one-two-three! What was 'one-two-and' supposed to be!? You didn't tell me there would be an 'and'!"

"Ha ha ha, it just looked like the timing wouldn't match up. But we had a pretty exciting experience thanks to that, don't you think?"

"That was an experience I didn't need to have!" Hachi exclaimed, squirming. It was important to do all sorts of things and gain experience. But there were some things that he really didn't need to experience. Hachi was sure of that now.

The duo ran silently over the empty rooftop and crouched down close to the entrance. Since Riviera HQ was home to the secret recipe, security was always strict. It didn't even overlook anyone coming from the sky. Flying in slowly would take too much time and was more likely to trigger the defense system. That was why Joker had opted for this method to get in rather than using Balloon Gum.

"Though it's strange that there aren't any security guards on the roof."

"Yeah, it might be a trap to lure us in. Sounds like fun. I'll take the bait."

Joker unlocked the door, entered, and quietly stepped into a dark stairwell. He took a look at the map on his phone and pulled up the route info. "The recipe is in the safe on the top level. Usually nobody goes on this floor. There are three obstacles standing between us and the safe."

"Three obstacles?"

Joker approached the door to the top floor. "The president of this company is a bit eccentric. The defense system's set up so that the safe won't open unless you solve three puzzles. If you can figure out the answer, then you can move on."

"Puzzles?"

"Yeah. So the obstacles are like a test for anyone who wants to open the safe," Joker said, and opened the door leading into the top floor. A long, dim corridor lay ahead. Joker and Hachi put on goggles that let them see infrared sensors and wriggled their way along. Soon enough, they reached a large door.

"All right, this is the first obstacle." Joker turned his gaze up to where a huge sign with a puzzle written on it was hanging on the door.

 [Question]

8            1            6

1            5            9

8            3            4

"Enter the number equal to the eight."

 There was a numerical keypad underneath the sign. They were probably supposed to input the correct number with it.

"So this is the puzzle..." Hachi looked at the numbers and tilted his head. "I wonder why these numbers are in such a random order? And it says 'equal to the eight', but there are nine numbers in all, so I don't get what it means by 'equal to'."

"You don't? The numbers aren't exactly random, either." Joker looked at the numbers and smiled a little.

"Joker-san, you figured it out already?"

"Of course I did."

 What does "equal to the eight" mean? Let's all think about it with Hachi!

Hint: Try adding the nine numbers up horizontally, vertically, and diagonally!

The correct answer is coming right up!

 "Hmm~ I don't get it at all!" Hachi put up his hands in resignation. He had given up.

"Yeesh, fine. This number arrangement is called a 'magic square'."

"A magic square?"

"Look closer. If you add up the three numbers in a horizontal, vertical, or diagonal line, they all come to the same sum."

"Huh? They do?" Hachi looked up and tried adding up the lines. 6+7+2=15, 8+1+6=15, 6+5+4=15... whichever direction he added them up in, they always came to the same total. "You're right! That's weird!"

"This magic square has 3 horizontals, 3 verticals, and 2 diagonals, which makes for 8 sums in all, right? Since they're all the same number..."

"Oh, I get it! 'Equal to the eight' is asking for the sum of the numbers, which is 15!"

"Right on!" Joker punched "15" into the keypad. The door unlocked with a clang. "Okay, let's go deeper in!"

Once they went through, the door closed behind them, and they came before the next door. There was another puzzle on this one. This was the second obstacle. The following was written on the sign.

 [Question]

Assume:

0 > 2

2 > 5

5 > 0

Given {2, 5, 5}, which one wins?

 Just like before, there was a numerical keypad underneath the sign.

"I don't get this one at all either..."

"It doesn't look like these arrow-like marks are supposed to mean that the left number is bigger. If they did, the first two expressions wouldn't be possible."

"That's true..."

"It asks 'which one wins', so maybe this mark just means that the number on the left is 'stronger'."

"Can a number be 'strong'?"

"Maybe these aren't numbers in the first place. Maybe they represent something else." Realizing something, Joker stroked his chin.

 Which one wins? Let's all think about it with Hachi!

Hint: Try counting on your fingers and see what it looks like.

The correct answer is coming right up!

 Hachi folded his arms, tilted his head, and stared at the question. It looked like he still didn't have a clue, so Joker gave him a friendly suggestion.

"Hachi, if you don't know, try counting on your fingers."

"On my fingers?"

"Yeah. Use your fingers to visualize the numbers. Try doing it with both hands, starting with the first expression."

After being told this, Hachi tried counting with his fingers. For 0, he balled up his fist into a rock-like shape, and for 2, he stuck out two fingers, forming scissors.

Wait. Rock... and scissors...?

"AAAAAAAH!" Hachi exclaimed. "I've got it, Joker-san! These numbers represent rock-paper-scissors!"

"Exactly. Now you know." Joker flashed a scissors sign.

"Yes! The numbers are the number of fingers sticking out. So 0 is rock, 2 is scissors, and 5 is paper."

"That's right. 0 wins against 2 because rock beats scissors. Likewise, when you have 3 against 5 — scissors and paper — scissors wins. And lastly, when you have 5 and 0..."

"5, which is paper, wins!"

"You see? Which brings us to the question written below. When you have 2 and 5 and 5..."

"It's scissors against paper and paper, so scissors wins! Which means 2 is the right answer!"

"Right on!" Joker said and punched "2" into the keypad. The door slowly opened. At the end of the hallway, they saw a massive door.

"Oh, that must be where the safe for the recipe is!"

"Yep. In order to get there, we'll have to clear the final obstacle."

The door leading to the safe was stout and didn't look like it could be broken through easily. This one, like the others, had a sign hanging from it with one last puzzle.

 [Question]

5            2            2            2

0            5            0            5

0            2            2            2

0            5            0            5

Push the button for the number that doesn't lose.

 Unlike the previous ones, there were buttons on the sign itself this time. This meant that one of the above numbers was correct, and when it was pressed, the door would open.

Hachi took a look at the numbers and tilted his head yet again. "Is this... rock-paper-scissors again?"

"Yep. It's only 0 and 2 and 5, just like before, so we can probably assume that's the case..."

"But I don't really understand this arrangement or what 'doesn't lose' means..."

"Hmm, maybe it's like the magic square we first encountered...?" Joker studied the numbers closely and brainstormed.

 Exactly which number is the one that "doesn't lose"?

Think about it in terms of both the "magic square" and "rock-paper-scissors" you saw before! Hint: you don't have to add up the numbers this time. Just think about it horizontally, vertically, and diagonally!

The correct answer is in the next chapter!

While Joker and Hachi were racking their brains over puzzles, Queen, Roko, and Purple were having tea at a late-night cafe. The train had arrived in town without further incident and they had the secret file in hand. Purple had some spare time before she had to turn the file over to an ally, so now she was going to talk about Noir over tea.

The three sat facing each other in the back corner of a small cafe. Purple leisurely began to speak. "Silver and Noir are complete opposites."

"Opposites?" Queen asked, taking a sip of her honey latte.

"You already know that Silver is a man as lively and bright as the sun. Everyone takes a liking to him. His roguish personality just captivates people. He has luck and natural ability. All of this made him an extremely talented spy. On the other hand, while Noir is also talented, he has to put in effort. He gathers all the intel he can before a mission, analyzes it with a cool head, and executes his plans without a single hitch. Noir goes in thoroughly prepared — that's his style. Noir stayed active even after Silver quit being a spy, and some people even call him the 'legendary spy' now..." Purple dunked a cookie in her black coffee and munched it. "But Noir has a grudge against Silver."

"Huh? Why?" Queen asked, confused. If they had gotten along as spies, there was no reason for him to hate the phantom thief Silver Heart.

"Well. Once Silver became a phantom thief, he started to get a lot flashier. He had always been a daredevil with an affinity for showing off. As ostentatious as his capers were, there were more than a few occasions where he failed spectacularly. Noir got tangled up in those spectacles quite often."

"Noir was involved with Grandpa's work?"

"It'd be more accurate to say that Silver always barged in when Noir was on covert infiltration missions and made a mess of everything."

"What...?" Queen and Roko's faces clouded over.

"The success of our spy operations hinges most of all on not being spotted. We infiltrate without alerting the enemy, do our work, and leave without attracting attention. The longer it takes them to notice that they've been breached, the more likely it is that the operation will be a success. In that sense, as soon as there's any uproar, the operation is a failure."

"Sounds like unforgiving work..."

"I can see why a spy wouldn't want their presence to be known, though," nodded Roko understandingly.

"Right. That's why Noir carries out his missions in secret, never letting anyone know he's there. But Silver Heart was completely different."

"Ah..." Queen realized something. "I get it. A phantom thief sneaks in, but not without anyone's knowledge. They send advance notice."

"Precisely. Phantom thieves boldly proclaim that they're breaking in, reveal themselves when everybody's looking, and steal the treasure dramatically while they're all in shock. Isn't that what Silver always says? He was always a showoff, so that suits him," said Purple. She exhaled and gave a shrug. "Besides, Silver tended to go after the treasure of money-grubbing crooks. Noir would receive a directive, plan everything down to the finest detail, and then once he got there, advance notice from Silver came in. What do you think would happen then?"

"The enemy would be on alert, and it'd make espionage that much harder..."

"That's exactly it. Silver was probably using the same network he had used as a spy to locate treasure. Silver threw a wrench in Noir's work on more occasions than he could count."

"That many times...?" Queen was surprised. Now she understood why Noir would be angry. But wouldn't Silver Heart have realized...? When she asked about it, Purple shook her head.

"...Unfortunately, Silver Heart is clueless about the whole thing. That's his greatest fault. Silver had no way of knowing that Noir was at work behind the scenes. Noir couldn't afford to have his mission be compromised, so he couldn't even say he was there. He had to give up, knowing that his mission had failed because of Silver..."

"So that's the story..." Now that she knew Noir's circumstances, Queen sympathized with him a little. Silver Heart's capers were indeed grandiose affairs and would definitely have interfered with any espionage going on. And since the man himself was completely oblivious and stole without a care in the world, she could understand why that behavior would incur wrath.

"I feel sorry for Noir..." Queen murmured. Purple snorted.

"Well, if you ask me, Noir's at fault too. Of course it'd annoy me to have someone get in the way of my job. But a real spy works around it. If a phantom thief appears and you take advantage of the confusion to accomplish your goals, you might be able to have an easier time of it. He could have even set it up to make his deeds look like Silver's handiwork. Noir just didn't exert himself."

"Oh, I see..."

"You've got high standards, Purple-san."

The pair voiced their respect for her.

"Oh, also, Grandpa is going after a treasure called the Lachla Crown. Apparently it's something he and Noir were looking for back when he was a spy..."

"The Lachla Crown? That explains it. You could say it ties Silver and Noir together."

"What do you mean?"

"Silver fell asleep, and because of that, the two of them weren't able to locate the hidden treasure. I remember Noir was really infuriated about it."

"Then when Noir learned that Grandpa was going after the Lachla Crown..."

"He quit being a spy and took matters into his own hands, it seems..."

"Huh? Noir quit his job?"

"Yes, just recently."

"Oh..." Queen pondered this. If Silver Heart targeting the Lachla Crown really had prompted him to quit being a spy...

Making up her mind, Queen stood up. Purple spoke to her.

"You're going? In that case..." Purple handed her a slip of paper. "Noir has been frequenting this place since he quit his job. I already looked into it."

"Thank you, Grandma." Queen took the note with gratitude.

"Don't mention it. Anyway, Queen, you were quite sensible back there. Would you be interested in doing some spy training under me?"

Then Queen answered with a little smile. "Thank you. It's not a bad offer, but I'll never be cold-blooded enough to be a spy."

"Ha ha ha, you really are Silver's disciple. And you're headstrong to boot. Just like me when I was younger."

Roko paled for a moment at this, but Purple gave a wink and smiled.

"Hee hee, thank you. Until next time, Purple-san!" Queen said. Then she and Roko ran off like the wind.

Several hours after their conversation...

Silver Heart was at a chic open-terrace cafe in Paris. The aroma of his espresso lifted his spirits. He took a hand mirror out of his pocket and fixed his appearance.

"Heheh. Hello, good-looking..." He couldn't stop grinning. Silver Heart was about to meet up with Her Majesty, the Queen of the Kingdom of Pandora for a date. She was busy with her official duties, but had a sliver of time available. The two of them had planned to take that opportunity to go on an incognito date. Her Majesty was going to escape the castle using Balloon Gum that Silver Heart had given her.

Just the words "incognito date" made Silver Heart giddy. "Heh heh heh, just like in Roman Holiday." Dropping the title of a vintage film in which a princess snuck out of her palace all alone and got to briefly enjoy the city of Rome, Silver Heart's already mellow expression melted entirely. If Queen saw how he looked now, she would probably slump down in disappointment.

But just then, his melted face hardened back up.

"..." Silver Heart's eyes were drawn to the coaster in front of him. He could see a small "N" written in the corner of the coaster.

This is... It was a familiar sign. It was how spies sent each other secret messages...

Silver Heart's mind flashed back to decades ago. He flipped over the coaster to see familiar letters that he had read often in the past.

 To my sworn enemy, Silver.

To have it out with you once and for all, I have crept out of the world of darkness.

I will steal your treasure.

 P.S. Your girlfriend isn't coming. She should be in the custody of the castle guards by now.

 "..."

Silver put the coaster down and took a breath. So Noir really does hate me... The sudden cancellation of his date with Her Majesty was a shock in and of itself, but not knowing the reason for this grudge left Silver feeling ill at ease.

What's the matter with him...? Silver Heart took another sip of his espresso, just as he heard a screeching voice come from the TV set up outside the cafe.

"This is your host, DJ Peacock! We've just received an advance notice from Phantom Thief Noir!"

"What...!?" Surprised, Silver Heart listened closely.

"I'll read Phantom Thief Noir's notice out loud. —Tonight, I'll steal the 'Lachla Crown' which Phantom Thief Silver Heart has targeted from the passenger ship Urban of the Sea. Phantom Thief Noir. —That's all! This is sure to be a heart-pounding and stimulating develop..."

Not even listening to the report till the end, Silver Heart got up. "..."

As Silver Heart faded into the bustle of Paris, he no longer had the same look in his eyes as when he was waiting for his date. His eyes were quietly ablaze, in a manner befitting the legendary phantom thief.

[arcticdementor]

Imagine that the US was competing in a space race with some third world country, say Zambia, for whatever reason. Americans of course would have orders of magnitude more money to throw at the problem, and the most respected aerospace engineers in the world, with degrees from the best universities and publications in the top journals. Zambia would have none of this. What should our reaction be if, after a decade, Zambia had made more progress?

Obviously, it would call into question the entire field of aerospace engineering. What good were all those Google Scholar pages filled with thousands of citations, all the knowledge gained from our labs and universities, if Western science gets outcompeted by the third world?

For all that has been said about Afghanistan, no one has noticed that this is precisely what just happened to political science. The American-led coalition had countless experts with backgrounds pertaining to every part of the mission on their side: people who had done their dissertations on topics like state building, terrorism, military-civilian relations, and gender in the military. General David Petraeus, who helped sell Obama on the troop surge that made everything in Afghanistan worse, earned a PhD from Princeton and was supposedly an expert in “counterinsurgency theory.” Ashraf Ghani, the just deposed president of the country, has a PhD in anthropology from Columbia and is the co-author of a book literally called Fixing Failed States. This was his territory. It’s as if Wernher von Braun had been given all the resources in the world to run a space program and had been beaten to the moon by an African witch doctor.

…

Phil Tetlock’s work on experts is one of those things that gets a lot of attention, but still manages to be underrated. In his 2005 Expert Political Judgment: How Good Is It? How Can We Know?, he found that the forecasting abilities of subject-matter experts were no better than educated laymen when it came to predicting geopolitical events and economic outcomes. As Bryan Caplan points out, we shouldn’t exaggerate the results here and provide too much fodder for populists; the questions asked were chosen for their difficulty, and the experts were being compared to laymen who nonetheless had met some threshold of education and competence.

At the same time, we shouldn’t put too little emphasis on the results either. They show that “expertise” as we understand it is largely fake. Should you listen to epidemiologists or economists when it comes to COVID-19? Conventional wisdom says “trust the experts.” The lesson of Tetlock (and the Afghanistan War), is that while you certainly shouldn’t be getting all your information from your uncle’s Facebook Wall, there is no reason to start with a strong prior that people with medical degrees know more than any intelligent person who honestly looks at the available data.

…

I think one of the most interesting articles of the COVID era was a piece called “Beware of Facts Man” by Annie Lowrey, published in The Atlantic.

…

The reaction to this piece was something along the lines of “ha ha, look at this liberal who hates facts.” But there’s a serious argument under the snark, and it’s that you should trust credentials over Facts Man and his amateurish takes. In recent days, a 2019 paper on “Epistemic Trespassing” has been making the rounds on Twitter. The theory that specialization is important is not on its face absurd, and probably strikes most people as natural. In the hard sciences and other places where social desirability bias and partisanship have less of a role to play, it’s probably a safe assumption. In fact, academia is in many ways premised on the idea, as we have experts in “labor economics,” “state capacity,” “epidemiology,” etc. instead of just having a world where we select the smartest people and tell them to work on the most important questions.

But what Tetlock did was test this hypothesis directly in the social sciences, and he found that subject-matter experts and Facts Man basically tied.

…

Interestingly, one of the best defenses of “Facts Man” during the COVID era was written by Annie Lowrey’s husband, Ezra Klein. His April 2021 piece in The New York Times showed how economist Alex Tabarrok had consistently disagreed with the medical establishment throughout the pandemic, and was always right. You have the “Credentials vs. Facts Man” debate within one elite media couple. If this was a movie they would’ve switched the genders, but since this is real life, stereotypes are confirmed and the husband and wife take the positions you would expect.

…

In the end, I don’t think my dissertation contributed much to human knowledge, making it no different than the vast majority of dissertations that have been written throughout history. The main reason is that most of the time public opinion doesn’t really matter in foreign policy. People generally aren’t paying attention, and the vast majority of decisions are made out of public sight. How many Americans know or care that North Macedonia and Montenegro joined NATO in the last few years? Most of the time, elites do what they want, influenced by their own ideological commitments and powerful lobby groups. In times of crisis, when people do pay attention, they can be manipulated pretty easily by the media or other partisan sources.

If public opinion doesn’t matter in foreign policy, why is there so much study of public opinion and foreign policy? There’s a saying in academia that “instead of measuring what we value, we value what we can measure.” It’s easy to do public opinion polls and survey experiments, as you can derive a hypothesis, get an answer, and make it look sciency in charts and graphs. To show that your results have relevance to the real world, you cite some papers that supposedly find that public opinion matters, maybe including one based on a regression showing that under very specific conditions foreign policy determined the results of an election, and maybe it’s well done and maybe not, but again, as long as you put the words together and the citations in the right format nobody has time to check any of this. The people conducting peer review on your work will be those who have already decided to study the topic, so you couldn’t find a more biased referee if you tried.

Thus, to be an IR scholar, the two main options are you can either use statistical methods that don’t work, or actually find answers to questions, but those questions are so narrow that they have no real world impact or relevance. A smaller portion of academics in the field just produce postmodern-generator style garbage, hence “feminist theories of IR.” You can also build game theoretic models that, like the statistical work in the field, are based on a thousand assumptions that are probably false and no one will ever check. The older tradition of Kennan and Mearsheimer is better and more accessible than what has come lately, but the field is moving away from that and, like a lot of things, towards scientism and identity politics.

…

At some point, I decided that if I wanted to study and understand important questions, and do so in a way that was accessible to others, I’d have a better chance outside of the academy. Sometimes people thinking about an academic career reach out to me, and ask for advice. For people who want to go into the social sciences, I always tell them not to do it. If you have something to say, take it to Substack, or CSPI, or whatever. If it’s actually important and interesting enough to get anyone’s attention, you’ll be able to find funding.

If you think your topic of interest is too esoteric to find an audience, know that my friend Razib Khan, who writes about the Mongol empire, Y-chromosomes and haplotypes and such, makes a living doing this. If you want to be an experimental physicist, this advice probably doesn’t apply, and you need lab mates, major funding sources, etc. If you just want to collect and analyze data in a way that can be done without institutional support, run away from the university system.

The main problem with academia is not just the political bias, although that’s another reason to do something else with your life. It’s the entire concept of specialization, which holds that you need some secret tools or methods to understand what we call “political science” or “sociology,” and that these fields have boundaries between them that should be respected in the first place. Quantitative methods are helpful and can be applied widely, but in learning stats there are steep diminishing returns.

…

Outside of political science, are there other fields that have their own equivalents of “African witch doctor beats von Braun to the moon” or “the Taliban beats the State Department and the Pentagon” facts to explain? Yes, and here are just a few examples.

Consider criminology. More people are studying how to keep us safe from other humans than at any other point in history. But here’s the US murder rate between 1960 and 2018, not including the large uptick since then.

So basically, after a rough couple of decades, we’re back to where we were in 1960. But we’re actually much worse, because improvements in medical technology are keeping a lot of people that would’ve died 60 years ago alive. One paper from 2002 says that the murder rate would be 5 times higher if not for medical developments since 1960. I don’t know how much to trust this, but it’s surely true that we’ve made some medical progress since that time, and doctors have been getting a lot of experience from all the shooting victims they have treated over the decades. Moreover, we’re much richer than we were in 1960, and I’m sure spending on public safety has increased. With all that, we are now about tied with where we were almost three-quarters of a century ago, a massive failure.

What about psychology? As of 2016, there were 106,000 licensed psychologists in the US. I wish I could find data to compare to previous eras, but I don’t think anyone will argue against the idea that we have more mental health professionals and research psychologists than ever before. Are we getting mentally healthier? Here’s suicides in the US from 1981 to 2016

…

What about education? I’ll just defer to Freddie deBoer’s recent post on the topic, and Scott Alexander on how absurd the whole thing is.

Maybe there have been larger cultural and economic forces that it would be unfair to blame criminology, psychology, and education for. Despite no evidence we’re getting better at fighting crime, curing mental problems, or educating children, maybe other things have happened that have outweighed our gains in knowledge. Perhaps the experts are holding up the world on their shoulders, and if we hadn’t produced so many specialists over the years, thrown so much money at them, and gotten them to produce so many peer reviews papers, we’d see Middle Ages-levels of violence all across the country and no longer even be able to teach children to read. Like an Ayn Rand novel, if you just replaced the business tycoons with those whose work has withstood peer review.

Or you can just assume that expertise in these fields is fake. Even if there are some people doing good work, either they are outnumbered by those adding nothing or even subtracting from what we know, or our newly gained understanding is not being translated into better policies. Considering the extent to which government relies on experts, if the experts with power are doing things that are not defensible given the consensus in their fields, the larger community should make this known and shun those who are getting the policy questions so wrong. As in the case of the Afghanistan War, this has not happened, and those who fail in the policy world are still well regarded in their larger intellectual community.

…

Those opposed to cancel culture have taken up the mantle of “intellectual diversity” as a heuristic, but there’s nothing valuable about the concept itself. When I look at the people I’ve come to trust, they are diverse on some measures, but extremely homogenous on others. IQ and sensitivity to cost-benefit considerations seem to me to be unambiguous goods in figuring out what is true or what should be done in a policy area. You don’t add much to your understanding of the world by finding those with low IQs who can’t do cost-benefit analysis and adding them to the conversation.

One of the clearest examples of bias in academia and how intellectual diversity can make the conversation better is the work of Lee Jussim on stereotypes. Basically, a bunch of liberal academics went around saying “Conservatives believe in differences between groups, isn’t that terrible!” Lee Jussim, as someone who is relatively moderate, came along and said “Hey, let’s check to see whether they’re true!” This story is now used to make the case for intellectual diversity in the social sciences.

Yet it seems to me that isn’t the real lesson here. Imagine if, instead of Jussim coming forward and asking whether stereotypes are accurate, Osama bin Laden had decided to become a psychologist. He’d say “The problem with your research on stereotypes is that you do not praise Allah the all merciful at the beginning of all your papers.” If you added more feminist voices, they’d say something like “This research is problematic because it’s all done by men.” Neither of these perspectives contributes all that much. You’ve made the conversation more diverse, but dumber. The problem with psychology was a very specific one, in that liberals are particularly bad at recognizing obvious facts about race and sex. So yes, in that case the field could use more conservatives, not “more intellectual diversity,” which could just as easily make the field worse as make it better. And just because political psychology could use more conservative representation when discussing stereotypes doesn’t mean those on the right always add to the discussion rather than subtract from it. As many religious Republicans oppose the idea of evolution, we don’t need the “conservative” position to come and help add a new perspective to biology.

The upshot is intellectual diversity is a red herring, usually a thinly-veiled plea for more conservatives. Nobody is arguing for more Islamists, Nazis, or flat earthers in academia, and for good reason. People should just be honest about the ways in which liberals are wrong and leave it at that.

…

The failure in Afghanistan was mind-boggling. Perhaps never in the history of warfare had there been such a resource disparity between two sides, and the US-backed government couldn’t even last through the end of the American withdrawal. One can choose to understand this failure through a broad or narrow lens. Does it only tell us something about one particular war or is it a larger indictment of American foreign policy?

The main argument of this essay is we’re not thinking big enough. The American loss should be seen as a complete discrediting of the academic understanding of “expertise,” with its reliance on narrowly focused peer reviewed publications and subject matter knowledge as the way to understand the world. Although I don’t develop the argument here, I think I could make the case that expertise isn’t just fake, it actually makes you worse off because it gives you a higher level of certainty in your own wishful thinking. The Taliban probably did better by focusing their intellectual energies on interpreting the Holy Quran and taking a pragmatic approach to how they fought the war rather than proceeding with a prepackaged theory of how to engage in nation building, which for the West conveniently involved importing its own institutions.

A discussion of the practical implications of all this, or how we move from a world of specialization to one with better elites, is also for another day. For now, I’ll just emphasize that for those thinking of choosing an academic career to make universities or the peer review system function better, my advice is don’t. The conversation is much more interesting, meaningful, and oriented towards finding truth here on the outside.

[sugarcomatosed]

i love your stories so much!! and was wondering if you can give some writing tips perhaps? 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

Breaking this up into sections for you + putting it under a cut cause I went overboard. 😅

General Writing Tips

These work for both academic and creative writing.

Make an outline.

It doesn't have to be a formal one, but having at least a general idea of the scenes you want to include is helpful. If I know my fic is going to be a longer one (like Don't Hesitate was and my current WIP is), I break down the larger story beats i want to hit on a piece of paper or my iPad.

It's good to know what you're planning to do, in a any piece I usually have a single specific scene I want to do and depending on what it is, I might either just do the scene I want to or turn into something longer.

Draft, draft, draft.

I cannot stress the importance of going through and reviewing your work. This is a big part of any sort of writing.

Your first idea isn't always your best idea. As you work on a piece you might find your original idea is holding you back, focus shifts! Don't be afraid to let your work change as you go. It's not always easy to let go of your original idea but if you find it's not working, you have to let it change. Sections will need to be rewritten, things have to be readjusted to fit with later sections. Reread for clarity while you're drafting and look to see if this makes sense to you, or reads well to you. If you can't follow it and you wrote it, chances are your reader can't either. Did you use the same phrase again and again? Find and search it on your doc to double check.

Sometimes you have to cut things you really like because they just don't contribute to the fic anymore. Save those bits and use them somewhere else!In a lot of my longer pieces I will write a paragraph, realize that's not where it should go and cut/paste it into another part of the doc because the pacing/scene doesn't make sense where I had it originally, but it works somewhere else.

If you're stuck, skip around, come back and then stitch the bits you have written together.

Don't Focus on a Word Count

This might be controversial, but I'm of the opinion just because something is longer does not make it better. Some works are short, and that's okay! I very rarely try to aim for a specific count of words unless it's for a prompt exchange or a personal challenge. I write till I feel the piece is done. Some stories require more words, some require less.

Don't Hesitate is a great example of this again, because all I wanted to do was a bittersweet first kiss fic, but jumping write into the kiss wouldn't get the full effect I wanted. Meanwhile, with Old Habits all I wanted to do was write dumb comedic kisses, we didn't need a 2k preamble.

Get Someone You Trust to Edit

My go to editor for the past six years or so is one of my good friends. She has edited everything from college papers to my fics for me before I post them to read for clarity, find any funky phrases or misspelled words I missed, and I do the same for her when she asks! A fresh set of eyes makes a world of a difference. Find someone to trade fics with or ask a friend! They might have good suggestions you never thought of, or be able to tell what you were going for when you don't even know yourself.

I also rely on my friends a lot to brainstorm and talk my ideas out before I start because it helps me think and figure out what I need. It's super common for me to text someone and say "im gonna spitball at you, that okay?" and then spend twenty minutes chatting through my ideas.

Have Reference Material

For my 13sar fics, I regularly go back and review/screenshot videos of the dialogue to make sure I am staying consistent with story events, character nuance and small details. You don't have to go crazy, but it is really helpful to have your source material to go back to and check yourself against. In non creative writing I always had a pile of papers highlighted with my own notes on the margins.

Take Breaks/Pace Yourself

Know your own limits, and if you are working and working on something and it's not coming out leave it alone and come back to it. I'm really bad at this personally because when I get an idea in my head I want to see it through but sometimes you gotta step back! It's not healthy to keep working on things and overwork yourself. Stretch, get up go for a walk.

Write What You Want to Write

Don't focus on what people want to read. Focus on what you like. Find a topic, a scene, anything that you are passionate about and the rest will follow. The only time I write fic for other people is when I am writing for a friend. Even prompt requests I only take open ended ones, if I am not interested in writing it it's not gonna happen. I know it's super hard and I get really anxious sometimes about letting people down now, or worrying people won't like something but then I step back and remind myself this is a hobby and I'm doing it for fun.

Play to Your Strengths

You shouldn't try to write like me, you should try to write like yourself. Find what skills you have and use them to your advantage!

I can't give you a step by step list to write like me, because nobody in the world has my background! We're all unique. Everything I've listed so far I know because I'm not a beginner anymore! I'm in my twenties and have come from a strong academic writing background.

I took on an intensive course load in high school, and then went onto college for a sociology degree. I very rarely had test based finals and at the end of each semester would have five 10-15 page papers to submit. Straight up some of my skills come from having read and studied the works of anthropologist Clifford Geertz. I am not saying you should read anthropology/sociology texts. Unless you like that sort of thing lol

I also have 6+ years of theater experience (acting & directing), I use this all the time for my writing. When I think about a scene, I think about how I would work through it as an actor, how the character would move, and how would things read to an audience. The GOTE ("Goal, Obstacle, Tactics, and Expectation") method of acting by Robert Cohen is really useful hear if you want a more technical breakdown of what I mean by that.

This leads to a lot of what we called "business" in acting, doing small tiny things while you talk or move around on stage to give the sense you're a real human. I don't have to think or try on these sort of things because they're in my skill set already!

Things I do Personally

As in, these are not transferable skills this is just the stuff I do while working on projects.

Find a Vibe™️

I come into any fic with usually a goal I want to hit, a line of dialogue or something I want to capture. Just like, the general idea of a feeling a song even if the lyrics don't match up. Make a mood-board, a playlist, just find something you wanna do. It's less about the actual words on the page and what you're aiming to do.

Look to things that inspire you

Don't Hesitate got written because I wanted to write a fic that captured the same vibe as a scene in Macross Frontier, where two characters have a bittersweet kiss before the final battle and that scene still has me fucked up six years after watching it.

My current WIP is doing the same thing but with the song All I've Ever Known from Hadestown. Two characters working through loneliness, the sudden feeling of falling in love and the frustration that feeling can bring on sometime.

I don't plagiarize them word for word, but these are scenes that inspire me! I also patchwork quilt ideas together. Using Don't Hesitate again, I also ended up pulling from a bunch of shoujo anime, Toradora, Sailor Moon, Yona of the Dawn, Princess Tutu...specific scenes I enjoy to blend and create something new.

Goof Off While You Write

I name my documents stupid things, I write dumb placeholder dialogue or vague sentiments like "insert better word here", I make memes when I'm struggling and roast myself and my predictable tastes.

I spent twenty minutes texting a friend Juro's name with different letters spelt out and then the "fuck your chickenstrips" vine saying it was Juro during destruction. Just have fun with it!

Listen to J-POP On Loop for Hours at a Time

i am not kidding I do this all the time. Perfume, AKB48, anime idol osts, Sailor Moon's OPs/ED, vocaloid songs. I like technopop and Japanese is good because it usually doesn't distract my brain since I only know random phrases, but still know what the meaning og the song is.

I love music, it helps me vibe out.

Thank you so much for enjoying my work ;o;

I hope this is useful to you in some way! I'm so sorry it's so long winded but I am overly thorough and love to teach people ;w;

[twstarchives]

Azul Ashengrotto・Voice Lines

Additional Voice Lines

Beans Camo event card

Scary Dress event card

School Uniform - R

Unlock Card “I will support you to the best of my ability, so that you may enjoy your school life here!”

Groovy “Board games are good brain exercises. Would you like to play one?”

Home Setting “Let’s make today count.”

Home Transitions “The students of this school are truly diverse in terms of personality. I’d like to have a great circle of connections.”

“Falling asleep during class is nothing for you to worry about. I will help you before your test. For a price, of course.”

“Now, for today’s board game club activities... What? Did you think ‘Boring!’ to yourself just now?”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “Were you looking for me? If you’d like to discuss your troubles, I can always make arrangements for that.”

Home Taps “I pride myself on the trust my professors have in me. Above all else, I am very dedicated.”

“School friends are really just like schools of small fish. Come graduation, they all go their separate ways.”

“I heard you singing in music class just now... Heheh. No, I’m sorry; you do sound very nice.”

“I wish they’d label how many calories are in each dish in the cafeteria. It makes keeping count so difficult.”

“Is there something strange about me? I thought I studied the fashion norms on land well enough.”

PE Uniform - R

Unlock Card “I don’t necessarily hate Flying class. My broom just doesn't always cooperate with me.”

Groovy “Let’s try to work our hardest.”

Home Setting “I’m not that fond of exercising on land.”

Home Transitions “I’m not ashamed of the fact that I’m not good at sports. You have your struggles too, don’t you?”

“You only have two legs and yet you can walk that fast...? You really are good at this.”

“There’s no harm in looking like you’re trying hard. It gives off the impression that you’re committed and worthy of respect.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “Flying class is almost starting. You always look like you’re having so much fun.”

Home Taps “Coach Vargas was just appalled by me again. If only I were in the water, I could... no, that would still be a problem.”

“I do a light muscle workout everyday. I also make sure to eat in moderation. It’s important to take care of your body.”

“It sounds so obvious, but floating in the water and floating in the sky really are nothing alike.”

“Sports on land make you sweat, and it’s so uncomfortable. ...Right now I’d like nothing more than to plunge into the ocean.”

“Are you trying to mock me? I’ll accept your offer as-is, but expect to have it returned it to you two-fold.”

Lab Coat - SR

Unlock Card “Please leave everything to me. Brewing potions is something I’m very confident in.”

Groovy “I’ll give you some tips for your experiments. Of course, the price would be... Heheh.”

Home Setting “I enjoy classes where the results are very clear.”

Home Transitions “I like experiments. As long as you just follow the instructions, you won’t run into any surprises.”

“There’s a full selection of rare ingredients to choose from here. What a wonderful school this is!”

“Ahh... If only you had my notes, you’d be able to finish all of those assignments in the blink of an eye... Are you interested?”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “Please leave the alchemy to me. Churning out riches is one of my specialties. Of course I’m talking about the experiment.”

Home Transition (Groovy) “Even the smallest speck of dust bothers me. ...Why are you looking at me like that? Please, enough with your games.”

Home Taps “Feel free to come speak with me if you ever find yourself unable to find the lab materials you need. I have my ways.”

“Your stomach hurts? I’ll steep some herbs. There’s a brew I’ve been wanting to try out.”

“I’m very particular about my writing tools... It needs to feel a certain way when I sign my papers.”

“Grim is a strange creature. ...Why don’t we try teaching him some tricks? Oh, for no particular reason.”

“You don’t need to keep coming in here; I can see just fine. These goggles have prescription lenses.”

Home Tap (Groovy) “Turning one madol into a hundred is just another component of alchemy. Would you like to try?”

Ceremony Robes - SR

Unlock Card “‘Azul can make any of your wishes come true.’ ...Would you like to see whether or not these rumors are true?”

Groovy “Presentation is important for negotiations to proceed smoothly.”

Home Setting “Do you wish to hear my advice as well?”

Home Transitions “Only the wise should be the ones leading the herd. Don’t you agree?”

“I’ve come up with a plan for an event involving the Ramshackle Dorm; please take a look at it...”

“In a few moments I’ll be starting my lecture on ‘Efficient Study Methods.’ I’m grateful to say we have a full house yet again.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “The teachers hold Octavinelle students in high regard for being so well-mannered. I’m proud that our students are so exceptional.”

Home Transition (Groovy) “It’s nice to take time off like this every once in a while. ...Truthfully, I’m not at my best when there’s so much activity around me.”

Home Taps “These ceremony robes are much better than any business card. You get all kinds of wishful eyes on you just by wearing these outside the school.”

“I’m having others take care of setting up for the ceremony. My job is acting as the brains.”

“Maybe I should tighten my belt a little... I prefer having a tight figure.”

“Dark, confined spaces put me at ease. I like clothes that come with hoods.”

“You’re so loud. No one likes a lot of blabber.”

Home Tap (Groovy) “Instead of an amulet, it’s better to keep your favorite coin in your pocket.”

Dorm Uniform - SSR

Unlock Card “How lucky you are to have been able to meet someone as kind as me!”

“Balancing this student life with running the Mostro Lounge is something I’m enjoying very much.”

Groovy “Welcome to Octavinelle! We’re always happy to have those like you here.”

Home Setting “If you ever need a consultant, I’d be happy to speak with you anytime.”

Home Transitions “My students become very reasonable with me the moment I put on our dorm uniform.”

“I always put on my right shoe before the left on the mornings of a battle. You could say it’s superstition... Yes, exactly that.”

“I picked out all of the furniture used in the Mostro Lounge. Isn’t the atmosphere just wonderful?”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “Helping others is what I live for. As dorm leader, I’ll support every one of you as best as I can.”

Home Transition (Groovy) “Should you have a wish you’d like me to grant, you’re welcome at the Mostro Lounge’s VIP Room anytime. What do you say about coming over now?”

Home Taps “Jade is a very capable assistant. I wouldn’t have chosen him as the vice dorm leader if he wasn’t.”

“They say the Sea Witch had infused a spiral shell with her own magic. Maybe I should modify the pin on my hat that way as well.”

“Floyd’s mood swings are unbearable to deal with, but I have faith in his power when the time calls for it.”

“You smell something nice? Oh, that must be my cologne. It’s one of the small pleasures I have while being on land.”

“Oh, please don’t interrupt me right now. I’m busy totaling the sales for today.”

Home Tap (Groovy) “Why don’t you work a shift at the Mostro Lounge sometime? The staff meals Jade and Floyd make are simply the best.”

Duo Magic Azul: “Riddle, let’s run this exactly by our plan.” Riddle: “Azul, I’ll put my trust in you this time.”

Birthday Celebration Outfit - SSR

This card was only obtainable during Azul’s birthday event (Feb 22 - Feb 28, 2020).

Login on Birthday “I’m honored to hear that you’ve remembered my birthday. However, unfortunately I don’t accept one-way gifts... But if you insist, please come order today’s exclusive special meal at the Mostro Lounge; I will be joining you.”

Unlock Card “Those who owe me debts are welcome to come today. Let’s all enjoy the party together.”

“I would like to express my utmost gratitude to everyone who congratulated me. That is the courteous thing to do. Isn’t that right?”

Groovy “Thank you for your birthday wishes. I will make sure to show my gratitude appropriately, so please stay tuned.”

Home Setting “There is such odd—er, interesting clothing on land.”

Home Transitions “The staff at my family’s ristorante sent a group photo of them along with their gifts. I’m glad everyone is doing well.”

“A gift doesn’t have to be an object. Letting me listen to your worries is enough. Come, don’t be shy!”

“Heheh. For my birthday, I decided that I will eat as I please without worrying about the calories.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “I’m glad my birthday is here. In the business world, you’re looked down on just for being young.”

Home Transition (Groovy) “The Mostro Lounge offers a coral-themed birthday cake. You absolutely must order it for your birthday!”

Home Taps “Idia gave me a board game I’ve been interested in recently. I cannot wait to beat him when we play.”

“Every year on my birthday, Jade and Floyd pull a prank on me. Honestly, what will I do with those two...?”

“When I invited Jamil to my party, he grew suspicious and asked ‘What’s the catch?’ ...And here I only want to get along.”

“Coach Vargas saw me in this outfit and said ‘Let me give you a special flying lesson for your birthday!’ I had so much difficulty running from him.”

“You brought me food again? ...Is that your way of saying I look like I eat a lot?”

Home Tap (Groovy) “I’m always looking for business opportunities at parties, but for today alone, I think I will just enjoy myself as the star.”

Duo Magic Azul: “It’s an honor to receive a birthday wish from you, Malleus.” Malleus: “My best wishes, Ashengrotto.”

Tutorial “Lurking over there is quite rude. Come, I'll show you around.” 

Lv Up “This is just... spectacular!”

“What do you think about my brilliant progress?”

“I’m not done yet... Heheheh!”

Max Lv Up “Ahh... I can feel the power rising in me... I’d like to keep doing business with you from now on.”

Episode Lv Up “A kind soul like you might be an easy target at this academy, don’t you think? If you ever end up in a bad position, do pay me a visit. You won’t regret it.”

Magic Lv Up “My magic power has grown so advanced; I’d like to put it to good use. I would never want to let talent go to waste.”

Limit Break “More... I want more power. Do I look like the kind of man who would be satisfied with this?”

Groovy “I’m feeling good today. I think now would be your chance if you have anything you want from me.”

Lesson Select “Are you tired of your classes? I recommend thinking of it as a game of scoring points from your teachers.”

“I’m fully prepared for any class. Pick whichever one you like.”

“Depending on the price you pay... I could help you study for today’s quiz.”

Lesson Start “Let’s do our best.”

Lesson End “Were you able to see how brilliant I am?”

Battle Start “You poor, unfortunate souls!”

Battle End “Well, you certainly tried your hardest.”

Other

Profile Quote “I’d be more than happy to help you. Now, just sign this contract.”

January 2020 Trailer “If you want to cross the bridge, you’ve got to pay the toll. That’s only natural, isn’t it?”

Countdown Poster “Helping unfortunate folk like yourself—that’s what I live for.”

Login Bonus Greeting “You are surprisingly quite diligent. I, too, enjoy working so steadily.”

Player Birthday Wish “Happy birthday! Today is a special case, in that I will grant you one single wish. ...Of course this isn’t a business deal. I’m only investing in your future self.”

Easter Eggs from The Little Mermaid:

The men up there don’t like a lot of blabber

Poor Unfortunate Souls

Helping unfortunate merfolk like yourself; that’s what I live for

If you want to cross the bridge, my sweet, you’ve got to pay the toll

[x--daughters-of-darkness--x]

Opening Up with… Evanescence

Opening Up sees us talk to musicians about the opening track from each of their studio albums. Our next guest is Amy Lee, lead vocalist and founding member of goth-pop veterans Evanescence. With millions of albums sold worldwide, the band are one of the most beloved of their era – and there's still plenty left in the tank, as their latest studio album attests to.

Amy Lee’s eyes widen when she realises what the premise of today’s conversation is. “I never get asked about this sort of stuff!” she exclaims excitedly from her Nashville home, surrounded by a stuffed toy collection belonging to her seven-year-old son Jack. Lee is very drawn to the prospect of a grand opening, whether that’s in the albums that she listens to, the gigs she attends or the movies she watches.

“I have a couple of different ideas about it,” she says. “An album opener…it’s got to pull you in. There’s different ways to do that, and we’ve done a few. One way is to give it the slow build – something that is opening up a world and an atmosphere to you where you’re like, ‘Okay, this is the world I’m stepping into.’ It builds up until it gets to that first big moment of impact. The other method, which I also love, is when you don’t hesitate and just burst right into something. We do our live shows both ways, too. It’s one of those things where it just kind of depends on your mood. You want to really reflect not only on where you’re at, but where you’ve been.”

‘Going Under’ – Fallen, 2003

In another life, ‘Going Under’  would have been the world’s introduction to Evanescence. The opening track to what would go on to be one of the highest-selling albums of the decade was the favourite among Lee and co. to be its lead single. Wind-Up Records, however, opted for ‘Bring Me to Life’, and the rest, as they say, is history. That’s not to count out ‘Going Under’ by any means whatsoever – after all, as Buzz Aldrin once said, second comes right after first.

“That was the song that we really wanted,” admits Lee, reflecting on the song nearly 18 years after its release. “I love ‘Bring Me to Life’, obviously, but we had a great feeling about ‘Going Under’ being sent to radio before the album came out. When that didn’t happen, it kind of became like, ‘Okay, well at least when you hear the album, I want it to still be the first thing that you hear.’”

The song details a tumultuous relationship that Lee had in her early 20s, both in the throes of it and staring back at the ashes of its remnants. She acknowledges the song’s agency reflects both strength and vulnerability in tandem, which explains why the track has spoken to so many listeners over the years. “I think it’s really strong,” she asserts.

“It presents a place that I kind of got to later. I’m calling out for help – ‘I’m going under/I’m drowning in you’ – but it starts out with me being like, ‘You know what? I’m done with this. I’m stepping out of the situation.’ I think that attitude was something for me that I was more excited to project.”

Setlist.fm approximates that the band have played ‘Going Under’ nearly 500 times over the years, making it one of the strongest staples of their shows. It’s a classic “hold out the mic” song – Lee can defer to her makeshift choir on any given night to take up any section of lyrics with full confidence that they’ll be sung back loud and proud. “It’s a fun one to play live,” she notes. “Some songs have more staying power than others, and that song really has that for me. That’s the song that still feels really good and still fits. It doesn’t have anything about it that sort of feels like ‘Okay, that’s cool and that’s part of our history, but that’s not really what we are anymore.�� That one just really has stood the test of time.”

‘Sweet Sacrifice’ – The Open Door, 2006

The parallels between the first tracks on Evanescence’s first two records are obvious. Each cuts straight to the chase, pairing a distorted Lee vocal with a crunching, down-tuned palm-mute guitar chug before bringing in a steady full-band groove and a rousing, angsty chorus. Internally, however, the make-up of Evanescence had drastically shifted between albums, informed by the exit of the band’s co-founder in guitarist Ben Moody less than a year after the release of Fallen. This came midway through a tour, leaving the band to scramble in finding a replacement guitarist, which came in the form of Terry Balsamo (a member of the opening band, Cold). At the conclusion of the tour, Balsamo ultimately joined Evanescence full-time – a position he would hold for the next 12 years.

“That writing process was a new experience,” recollects Lee on co-writing with Balsamo for the first time. “We just had a different energy, which was really cool. We spent a lot of all-nighters in this house in LA – which was actually the first house I’d ever bought. Terry would come up and stay for a month or whatever at a time, and we would work all night.”

When queried specifically on the writing of ‘Sweet Sacrifice,’ Lee recalls a moment where she and Balsamo really clicked creatively – the song’s stirring pre-chorus, which builds to its hard-hitting hook and big-swinging drums. “The guitar and the vocal are kind of mirroring each other there,” she says. “We were really excited about it. There was just this feeling that came with it,  like, the freedom of saying ‘we’ve earned the right to make music however we want right now.’ So many people were breathing down my neck being like, ‘Let me write your songs for you.’ Writing that song was us saying ‘no, we’re gonna do whatever we want because we earned this.’”

“I felt like the song was so beautifully heavy,” she continues. “I also felt like it would subvert what people would expect as an opening track. Because I was without my guitar-playing original counterpart, there was somehow this idea that the next record [should] be softer and more feminine. I love heavy music, of course, and what was coming out of me and Terry was, in some ways, a lot heavier.”

September will mark the 15-year anniversary of The Open Door, and although it doesn’t hold the same legacy as Fallen, it remains a sentimental favourite among fans of the band. Lee still maintains a strong relationship with the record – if not for the fact that the band was able to make it at all in the first place.

“I still love it very much, it means a lot to me,” she comments. “I did have a lot to prove, and I felt the pressure of people feeling like, ‘I wonder if she can do that without Ben.’ I was really excited to show right away that we were taking it to the next level.”

‘What You Want’ – Evanescence, 2011

The first thing you hear on Evanescence’s third studio album is not Lee. Hell, it’s not even a guitar. It’s a reverb-heavy kick and snare beat, which sounds like it’s echoing from the depths of an arena. It immediately kicks the album off on a high gear, and is a perfect example of Lee’s latter example of not hesitating and bursting right in as an opener.

“That’s Will,” she determines of the song’s opening fill – courtesy of drummer Will Hunt, who made his debut on Evanescence after touring with the band for several years prior. “He is the greatest drummer in the world. That part was totally him. He is arena rock to the max, so it’s perfect. What’s cool about that is we all have different things in us that [are] our own style, each member of the band. When everybody’s particular tastes and styles get a chance to really shine through what they’re doing, I think that’s what can make it really amazing.”

“That album, it’s self-titled because it was such a group effort. Certainly it was more [of] one than before, when it was really more kind of duos for both of the other albums – Ben and I, Terry and I. This time was more like, ‘Okay, let’s let everybody really have a chance to shine.’” Lee points to ‘What You Want’ in particular when reflecting on the all-in band approach in songwriting: “I believe it was me, Terry and Tim [McCord, bassist], and we were at my house in Brooklyn,” she describes. “I had a little studio on the top floor, and just pulled up a loop on Pro Tools. Terry started playing, Tim started playing and it just became a thing with the three of us. We brought the band in, and that dinky little loop became what Will did. It really took it to another place.”

“It starts off with that awesome drum beat, but the combo to me really happens when when everything eventually comes in. It really comes together. I hear Terry in those different little half-note steps, I hear me bringing in some of my pop influences in the melody. This is us just really having fun making music and being ourselves.”

‘Overture’ – Synthesis, 2017

In one of the band’s most ambitious projects to date, Synthesis saw Evanescence team up with veteran composer David Campbell (also known as Beck’s dad) to create orchestral renditions of their best-known songs. Before it kicks off in earnest, however, the album opens with a swelling overture penned by Lee herself. It’s a rare instance of her flexing a different creative muscle in the track-ones of the band’s career, where she approaches it as an arranger and composer as opposed to a singer and songwriter.

“The whole idea of the project, for me, really stems from the fact that there’s all these little parts,” she explains. “It’s where my classical influence, which was my first really passionate musical influence, has a moment. It’s something that is an important core part of the music. ‘Never Go Back,’ which follows the overture, is one of those songs – the bridge is totally just like mad Mozart in the darkness, y’know? It’s my classical alter-ego going crazy. It’s interesting, because I think that the combination of that happening against the rock is really what makes it Evanescence. At the same time, I can still see this whole landscape of us that exists underneath and inside the music that is just entirely that other side. A lot of the time, when I’m coming up with the idea to start and then bring it to the table, it’s usually in this piano and electronics-based world before it really becomes a fully-fledged rock song. The idea of Synthesis was to get to just indulge in all of those things.”

When looking at the creation of the album’s overture, Lee sees that alter-ego taking both form and flight. “That part in particular is just one of my favourite moments on the record,” she says. “It’s very classically inspired, obviously. To make that into a full piece with David and give it that slow build, like we were talking about…I just loved being able to do that. That’s one of the ones that we’re driving you into a place and you’re like, ‘Oh, where are we going?’ And then you get there. It was very special to have at the beginning of every show on the tour. I’ll never forget that.”

‘Artifact/The Turn’ – The Bitter Truth, 2021

“Let me tell you about this, because it’s unusual.” Having eyed the conversation’s flow keenly, Lee is prepared at the ready to talk about ‘Artifact/The Turn,’ which opens The Bitter Truth, the first collection of all-new Evanescence music in a decade. As she will go on to explain in great detail, the album’s opening moment is twofold – hence the forward slash in its title. First, the artifact, which Lee found on her computer. “That’s nothing but like a little keyboard and my voice,” she confirms.

“That part is me on my laptop with the laptop built-in mic in a hotel room in Canada in the middle of the night on tour. That was not intended to make it as is on the album. The reason it’s called ‘Artifact’ is something that Nick [Raskulinecz], our producer, said. He was like, ‘Do you really want to redo this?’ I always was thinking I was going to. ‘Well, yeah,’ I said. ‘Don’t we need to like do it in high quality, like on a real microphone? He says, ‘I don’t know if you’re going to be able to recapture that exact feeling.’ I thought about that, and it all just kind of connected. It has all these little artifacts in it – it’s actually a little ancient piece of the the writing process, and it’s intact. It hasn’t been re-recorded or redone in any way.”

This leads to where the music makes a turn – courtesy, naturally, of ‘The Turn.’ This was another one-on-one between Lee and a collaborator, although this time, it arrives in the unexpected form of The Crystal Method’s Scott Kirkland. “We just met through a mutual friend, my old lighting director,” Lee recalls. “We were both on the bill at some festival and we made friends. It turned out we were fans of each other, and I was like, ‘Hey, if you ever want to just like swap files, who knows? We might come up with something!’ We started sending each other little baby demo ideas that we had. He had that music bed a little bit in a different arrangement that he sent to me – and again, on tour in a backroom, I found myself singing over it and came up with a melody. He tweaked it and did it for real, and that was it.”

Piecing these two compositions together made it very clear to Lee from the outset that this is how The Bitter Truth would begin – especially when she saw how it transitioned into track two, ‘Broken Pieces Shine’. “I love the way that that riff brings you into our band – where we are now and what the sound of us is now,” she says. “It’s driving, and it is coming for you – and it just feels so good when it hits. I love the beginning of this album.”

It’s been around a month since the album’s release, and although the band obviously haven’t gotten to play any shows thus far, they’ve still been met with an endless stream of messages, comments and praise from fans all over the world. After such an extensive rollout – not by design, of course – the sense of relief within the Evanescence camp is palpable. “It’s so satisfying,” adds Lee. “The one thing that’s going to drive it all the way home, obviously, is going to be when we get to live inside it and go on tour and play these songs live.”

[dovechim]

free delivery not included (m)

➾ 7.1k

➾ summary: the premise is simple, really. you’ve been wanting to have a baby ever since you and your husband got married three years ago. Dr Kim Namjoon is the top fertility specialist in town who boasts a 100% success rate. the thing is, your husband has given up on trying to have children, so you find yourself visiting Dr Kim Namjoon in secret, only to realise that his methods are slightly unorthodox. 

➾ warnings: mentions of infidelity and cheating, use of medical equipment (speculum), unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), impregnation, creampies, unprofessional behaviour from a medical professional, dirty talk involving humiliation

➾ a/n: a long time ago i said i was doing a fic for every member with this breeding kink and i didn’t know what i was getting myself into... a long time later, here is namjoon’s part :”) huge thanks goes to @jimlingss for as usual hearing my ideas out and hyping me up to write. i’ve been struggling with trying to like my own writing again but having kina’s support really meant a lot. of course, having all of you patient enough to wait for me is a huge motivating factor as well. without further ado, enjoy :) 

Nerves are fluttering in your stomach as you take a queue number from the receptionist and seat yourself in the waiting room. This is most definitely not where you’d ever expect yourself to end up. Casting a quick glance around the room, you surreptitiously turn your wedding ring around so that the diamond on it is hidden and less conspicuous. Everyone else in the waiting room is here with their spouse; you are the only one alone and its painfully obvious.

“______?” The voice comes out of nowhere and jolts you out of your self-conscious worrying.

You spring out of your seat and nod to the receptionist as she directs you to the door at the end of the hallway. Feeling multiple curious eyes on your back, you read the sign on the door before knocking.

Dr Kim Namjoon

Fertility Specialist

“Come in,” a pleasant, timbre voice answers and you slip inside, only to be greeted by a man in tortoiseshell glasses, his blonde hair pushed off his forehead. He motions for you to sit down with a welcoming smile, and his warm presence already puts you a little more at ease.

You smile nervously at him as you take your seat in front of him, adjusting your skirt and tugging it a tad lower to avoid any form of eye contact with the handsome doctor.

“So, _____, what can I do for you today?” Dr Kim smiles as he rests his forearms on the desk, leaning forward. When he smiles his dimples are so prominent that it takes your breath away a little. 

You can feel his attention focused on you, and for some reason this makes you even more nervous, so you drop your gaze down to your hands in your lap, absentmindedly playing with your wedding band in order to keep your nerves at bay. But then you remember that you’re also drawing attention to the fact that you’re married and here without your husband, so you immediately cover your left hand with your right. It’s too late though, with a tiny glance up, you catch Dr Kim’s gaze on your hands in your lap.

Clearing your throat, you pray that he doesn’t ask too many questions. “I-I’m here with concerns. A-about my fertility. I want to have a baby.”

Dr Kim chuckles pleasantly. “Well then, we’ll see what we can do about that. Just some questions for me to get a better sense of where you are in your journey to have a baby. How long have you been trying to get pregnant?”

He whips out a yellow legal pad and a pen to begin taking down notes, and without his piercing caramel eyes on you, you relax slightly; your heartrate slows down and the room in general feels less stuffy.

“I’ve been trying for three years,” you say in a near whisper, automatically wincing for the onflood of sympathy that you’ve come to expect whenever you tell someone about this.

But Dr Kim only nods once as he notes it down. “I see. And have you gone for any medical checkups in the past year? Anything of interest regarding your medical history I should know about?”

“No, I’m all clear,” you are now watching his fountain pen glide across the pages of his notepad with grace and ease, and before you can stop yourself, your eyes travel to the slim grip of his fingers.

“What about your… partner? That is, I’m assuming you have one,” Dr Kim looks up briefly to give you a smile.

“He’s also gone for tests and checkups,” you lace your fingers tightly together, thinking about your loving husband. “But the doctor said there’s no problem with either of us. I just… I don’t know why it’s taking so long. We’re both so desperate… I’mso desperate to have a baby.”

Your voice cracks slightly as emotion wells up in you, and you take a deep breath to center yourself again. “Dr Kim, I heard that you’re the top notch fertility specialist in town. My husband has lost all faith in us ever having a baby so he’s given up hope… he doesn’t know I’m here today. Please, can you help us?”

Dr Kim finishes his notes with a flourish, then he puts down his pen and looks up with a reassuring smile. “First of all, ____, I deeply sympathise with your struggles over the past three years. I know how incredibly emotional and difficult it can be to face such issues, and especially over such a long period of time. You are a very strong and determined woman to come here alone today without your husband. It shows that you don’t give up hope for something that you truly want, and for that I really admire you.”

His words take the tension out of your shoulders and sets you more at ease. You’d read articles about this man online, seen pictures of him even, but in real life he looks even more suave and breathtaking. Every single action and word of his is fuelled by a quiet confidence, a professionalism that is warm and reassuring.

“Over here, we have a 100% success rate with all of our procedures,” Dr Kim goes on. “We are proud to be the first fertility clinic that carries our own supply of sperm curated from our sperm bank.”

“Th-that’s amazing, Dr Kim” you nod as he hands you a brochure, but your eyes are fixed on his handsome smile.

“Please, call me Namjoon. I hope you can be more at ease with me. I want all my patients to think of me as a close friend,” Namjoon pushes his glasses up. “I can definitely help you with having a baby… but first I’d like to ask you what approach you prefer to take.”

You hesitate as you turn over the brochure in your hands. “Approach? What do you mean by that?”

“Well, I have several suggestions to help you conceive,” Namjoon says as he points to a list of options on the back of the brochure. “Firstly, IVF. In Vitro Fertilisation, a popular but very costly procedure that can take up to one year to show results. Seeing as you mention your husband not wanting to try any more medical approaches… I think it would be difficult for you to convince him to commit to this.”

“No, you’re right,” you sigh as you read over the estimated cost stated on the brochure. “Not only that, we just don’t have the means to afford that kind of procedure right now.”

Namjoon nods in understanding, and he directs your attention to the next option on the page. “No worries, let’s move on. The second option we have here is sperm donation, the most popular option for most of my patients. This treatment requires a healthy egg, which you definitely fit the requirement of. Like I mentioned before, we have our very own sperm bank here in the clinic, and once you make your decision, after a brief checkup, you can choose to have your first donation as soon as today. That is, if you’re deemed to be ovulating and fertile, of course.”

Your heart skips a beat. “Today? But that’s so soon! I mean, I’d love to see results as soon as possible, but my husband…”

“Ah, yes, he doesn’t know that you’re here, does he?” He shakes his head slightly in apology. “Forgive me if I’m stepping over the line here, but from a medical professional’s perspective, seeing as you and him have been trying to conceive for three years, it might be that your egg and his sperm simply aren’t compatible. If the both of you have gone for fertility checkups, and nothing abnormal has shown up…”

Namjoon’s voice trails off, and he looks at you to gauge your reaction.

“Actually…” your voice is hesitant as you meet his gaze. “I’ve come to that same conclusion myself. And before I came here today, I told myself to be open to the idea of getting sperm from another man. It’s just that… I don’t know how he would take it. Obviously he might not be very open to the idea, so that’s why I came here today without telling him.”

“I see.” Namjoon’s face is completely expressionless except for the muscle that jumps in his clenched cheek as he leans back in his chair. “Do I take it that you wish to receive a sperm donation today? Without your husband knowing?”

His question lingers in the air for a few moments. Your husband can’t possibly blame you for doing this. You’ve been trying for three years with no luck. Maybe it just wasn’t fated for you to have a baby with him. Why should you be deprived of the experience of motherhood just because of fate?

“He really, really wants a baby too,” you say, fully aware that you’re not answering his question. “If this goes on much longer, if I don’t get pregnant soon… he might end up leaving me for some beautiful, young and fertile twenty something.”

“I highly doubt that,” Namjoon shakes his head and holds up his hands. “Excuse me for being inappropriate, but any man who would leave someone like you is an idiot. You’re far too gorgeous for that to happen. And from what I can tell, you’re a strong and determined woman who knows what she wants too. It would only be a loss on his part, believe me.”

His smooth words and charming smile only make the butterflies in your stomach worse. “Dr- Namjoon… you’re used to complimenting women, aren’t you? Is that how you became the top fertility specialist here?”

He lets out a loud chuckle. “My patients feel right at home with me, and what can I say? I know women… intimately. Women like you deserve to be told how beautiful they are, and you deserve to be treated right too.”

Namjoon’s double entendre makes your heart pound in your chest. “You know… you really remind me of my husband. He could sweet talk his way into anyone’s life. That’s pretty much how I fell in love with him… and that’s why I’m worried. A charming and sweet man like you must definitely have a lot of women fawning over him.”

For the first time since the appointment began, you see Namjoon blush a little as he glances away for a moment. It seems like he is not used to being on the opposite side of receiving compliments, but the shy side of him is absolutely adorable. Namjoon pushes his glasses up on his nose a little, and he scratches his neck.

“That’s a wonderful compliment, thank you,” he manages to smile professionally, but only just. “I’m sure your husband knows how lucky he is to have such a wonderful wife like you. But if you’re really worried about that… let me help you. Personally, I want to make sure you have a nice and healthy baby, one that looks just as beautiful and is as kind as you.”

Elation lights up your face as you reach forward to grasp his hands involuntarily. “Thank you so much, Dr Kim!”

Namjoon holds both of your hands in his as he stands, motioning you over to the chair in the corner. “I’ll just do a quick checkup to determine where you are in your cycle right now, and then we can discuss options for the sperm donation. There’s a gown on the back of the chair, if you could just slip off your bottoms and put that on? I’ll give you some privacy.”

Namjoon draws the curtain and leaves you alone to change. Once the curtains are drawn, you slip off your pencil skirt and underwear, putting on the gown that comes down to your knee. When you’re done, you call out to Namjoon again, and he parts the curtain.

“Just hop up there for me will you?” Namjoon holds out his hand toward the chair.

You feel his hand on your waist helping you into the slightly high chair, and he directs your legs into the stirrups that go on either side. Namjoon’s warm hands secure your legs in a comfortable position as he checks in with you frequently. Your legs are now spread wide, and you are aware that your gown has ridden up all the way to your upper thigh.

“When was your last period?” Namjoon is washing his hands over at the sink and pulling on some gloves. He grabs a large container of what you assume must be some kind of lubrication before he pushes a wheeled chair over.

“Um, about… two weeks ago?” You hazard a guess, confirming after you check your period tracking app on your phone. “Exactly two weeks ago.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Namjoon raises his eyebrows in surprise. “That means you could be ovulating right now. I’ll know when I examine your cervix and your discharge, but let me just take a quick blood sample and send that off to the nurses just to be sure.”

He comes over to your side and takes your wrist gently, cleaning your skin with an alcohol wipe before drawing a vial of blood from your arm in the blink of an eye. It doesn’t even hurt, considering the fact that you are deathly afraid of needles, because all through it Namjoon keeps your attention on him with his gentle and soothing voice, and that charming smile of his.

“Let me get that sent off…” Namjoon is frowning in concentration as he scribbles something onto a label and sticks it onto your blood sample before he parts the curtains. A second later he is back again, and he positions himself in between your legs, a gentle touch on your calf. “Results should take about 20 minutes. Meanwhile, let’s see what’s going on here, shall we?”

“That fast?” You comment in surprise. From this angle all you can focus on is how the handsome doctor looks in between your legs, and his warm touch on your skin. “Wow. Technology sure is advanced these days.”

“Sure is,” Namjoon laughs in agreement. “Now just relax for me… I’m going to part your lips now and take a look.”

You can feel Namjoon spreading your lips with two fingers as he peers closely at you, and a heated blush is on your cheeks. You feel extremely exposed in front of this handsome doctor, even more so as his fingers brush across your slit, and you realise that he doesn’t even need any lube at this point. You’re about to hastily come up with some explanation as to why you’re this wet all on your own, but Namjoon saves you the trouble.

“Very nice, there’s some clear discharge indicative of ovulation,” Namjoon smiles as he gently collects some of it on his gloved fingers, showing it to you. “See how it’s so stringy? When I pull my fingers apart it doesn’t break easily. Kind of looks like egg whites.”

You feel his fingers part your lips again and this time, they are probing at your entrance.

“I’m going to slide two fingers in this time, it’s going to go deep so that I can feel your cervix. Tell me if you feel any discomfort, alright?” Namjoon smiles at you before his head disappears between your legs again, and two of his long, slim fingers enter you.

His fingers might have looked slim just now when you were eyeing them, but when they’re deep inside you, you feel a stretch that isn’t uncomfortable, but definitely something to get used to. Your instinct is to clench your walls around his fingers; at this point you just want him to stroke that special spot inside you. You can feel that you are drenching his fingers with your arousal, so there’s no pretending that you aren’t turned on. It must be because of your ovulation that you’re this horny just from getting an examination.

“Relax, you’re clenching really tight around me,” Namjoon’s voice comes off as a relaxed laugh, and you immediately make an effort to relax. “Has it been some time since you had intercourse? You feel really tense.”

“Um, no it hasn’t,” you say truthfully. “My- my husband and I had sex just this week. A few days ago.”

“Hmm,” Namjoon hums under his breath as he withdraws his fingers a tad. “Then you must be naturally tense. I need to examine your cervix, so I’m going to use a speculum. It might feel a little cold and the stretch might hurt a little, but bear with me.”

Namjoon pulls his fingers out, and your breath comes out all at once at the loss. He turns around and ducks out to grab the needed equipment, returning a moment later with a metal contraption. You’ve had speculums inserted before at previous checkups, so it’s no big deal.

He pours some lubrication onto the part that will be inserted in you, and you try your best to relax for him. With one hand on your inner thigh holding you steady, Namjoon slides the speculum into you, and goes deeper until it nudges at your cervix. Then, he starts to turn the screw on the side so that it begins to spread your walls open slowly, until he gets a clear view of your cervix.

Being spread apart like this and allowing someone else that isn’t your husband to see the most intimate parts of you only adds to the overwhelming rush of arousal that you feel right now. On one hand you feel incredibly immature, having a crush on your fertility doctor and wishing he would just help you with your problem personally, but the more primal part of you argues that it’s perfectly reasonable. This man right here is tall, fit and good looking, he’s smart on top of all that. Why shouldn’t he be the one to give you a baby?

“All looks great here, you are most definitely ovulating, _____,” Namjoon’s voice brings you back to the present. “Cervix is soft and open, so a donation today will greatly increase your chances of success. But we can discuss that more in detail when you’re more comfortable.”

“What do you mean? I’m perfectly comfortable with a thick metal rod in me,” your joke makes him laugh as he places a hand on your inner thigh, closing the speculum and removing it from you.

With some tissue he cleans you up, wiping away some of the lube and your arousal that had smeared on your inner thigh. His gesture feels so intimate and personal that you can’t help but feel the intense desire to feel his fingers without the rubber gloves, or to feel something else of his inside you.

Namjoon glances up as he disposes of the tissue. “I’ll give you a moment, I’ll just be outside and we can discuss the sperm donor that you want.”

He slips out of the curtains, and you pull down the gown, fanning your hot cheeks as you wipe the beads of sweat from your face. Getting down from the chair carefully, you push aside the curtains, leaving your skirt off as you sit in the same chair.

Namjoon is looking through a document. “Good news, the blood test results are in. You are, in fact at the peak of ovulation now. You came at just the right time, ____.”

“Can I really get a donation right now?” You ask as Namjoon turns to type something into his computer, having shed his rubber gloves.

“Of course! In fact, as your doctor I would highly recommend you do it today. If not, you would have to wait until next month,” Namjoon says. After a moment’s consideration, he adds on, “and since you told me you and your husband just had sex recently, it would be reasonable to convince him that it is his child you’re carrying.”

There is a weighted pause as the consequences of what you’re about to do sinks in. You’re at a fertility clinic, ovulating and about to receive a sperm donation from a complete stranger. Then you’re going to go home and in a few weeks, tell your husband that you’re pregnant with his baby.

You take a deep breath. “Alright. I’ll do it today. What are the options for sperm donors?”

“Here at our clinic, we use fresh sperm samples, we never freeze them. This is to allow for maximum success rate for our patients. I can open up the database of donors that we currently have fresh samples from, and you can take a look and choose from there,” Namjoon says as he types at his keyboard, scrolling through and clicking a few times. There is a slight frown on his face as he opens a few files.

“Is something wrong, Namjoon?”

“No, no, it’s just…” Namjoon pauses to type a few more things and hits enter with a look of frustration on his face. “It’s very strange. Somehow, our database only has one donor right now. I’m not sure if this is an error, because we ensure that we have at least 20 donors at any one time…”

“Who’s the one sperm donor?” You ask out of curiosity.

“It’s a Jeon Jungkook, 50 years old with a Bachelor’s Degree at… Hogwarts Witchcraft and Wizardry…” Namjoon looks at your troubled expression and clears his throat, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I thought so too. Let me just make some calls and check if there are any other donors.”

The normally cool and composed fertility specialist looks a little frantic as he picks up his desk phone and starts to dial a number, but then you put your hands over his.

“Namjoon, it’s okay. I decided which donor I want,” you give him a confident smile as he looks up in surprise, slowly putting down the phone.

“What? You want… a 50 year old man?” Namjoon shakes his head in confusion. “Who graduated from Hogwarts?”

“No. I want you to be my sperm donor, Dr Kim.”

A shocked silence settles in between the two of you for a moment as Namjoon’s eyes widen. “B-but that would mean… your husband. You don’t want him to know right?”

“That’s right. I want my husband to think the baby is his. But in reality, it would be your baby,” you withdraw your hands from Namjoon’s and sit back in your chair. “To be honest, Doctor, I’ve been attracted to you the moment I walked in. I want my baby to be as smart as you. I hope you can give me a baby boy that will look exactly like you.”

Before the doctor can say anything else, you go on.

“You said you only use fresh samples here at the clinic right? Without any freezing,” you recall his words from earlier. “It’s just… today is the perfect day for me to get a sperm sample,” you direct your gaze at his lips with a small sigh as you say this, completely committed to your role now. “I don’t see why we should let this opportunity go to waste. You can give me a fresh sperm sample right here and right now.”

“_____, I- I don’t know what to say… your husband…” Namjoon fumbles over his words; he has trouble looking you in the eye. “A-are you saying you want me to inseminate you? Is that really what you want? Tell me.”

You stand up from your seat and make your way around the table so that you are standing beside his chair. “Yes, Doctor. I want you to give me the baby my husband couldn’t. I want to have yourbaby.”

You slide your body into his lap, feeling the crisp material of his dress pants on your thighs as Namjoon’s arms circle your waist to help you sit on him properly. His thighs feel firm under you, and his mouth is now dangerously close to your neck. You can feel his body is tense under yours, a sharp intake of breath at your words.

“Is that so? What an unfaithful wife you are.” Namjoon admonishes you, and his breath ghosts over your skin. “Asking another man to give her a baby. Tell me, has anyone other than your husband fucked you before?”

“No, not even once,” your breath is speeding up now as Namjoon caresses your waist tenderly, bidding you to spread your thighs slightly to get more comfortable on his lap. “I love my husband. I really do. But I just want a baby so bad. I’d do anything.”

“Who am I to deny such a beautiful woman the experience of motherhood?” Namjoon hums under his breath, kissing the skin just behind your ear. “If a gorgeous woman such as you says she wants a baby, then it’s my duty not only as a doctor to obey… but as a man too.”

“Please…” you can feel your thighs getting slick with your arousal, and Namjoon helps you onto your feet.

“We have to do this the proper way, to ensure maximum success rate,” Namjoon directs you to the chair again, and draws the curtains firmly shut. “Thankfully, you’re my last patient today, so we can take as long as we like. By the time you walk out of this clinic, you’ll definitely be pregnant.”

You lie back in the chair with his help, not missing the way his hands are soft and gentle, making sure your head is supported against the headrest, and your legs are comfortably spread in each stirrup. From your vantage point, you can see Namjoon begin to take off his white doctor’s coat and reveal his white dress shirt and black pants underneath, but you stop him.

“Doctor, please keep it on,” you say, reaching out to grab his wrist. “I always had a thing for the whole hospital fantasy.”

Namjoon relents, turning around as he palms the growing bulge in his dress pants. “Does your husband know about this… fantasy?”

“No,” you answer truthfully as your eyes drop to take in the tent at the front of his pants. “No, he doesn’t know. Doctor, why don’t you make yourself more comfortable? It looks like you haven’t been able to… let go of some tension for a while.”

“What would your husband say if he saw you now? On your back with your legs spread… about to get a baby fucked into you by her fertility specialist,” Namjoon tsks under his breath as he situates himself between your legs, stroking your thighs softly. “What a pretty pussy too. Just begging to be eaten.”

“He- he would never find out,” you gasp and your back comes off the chair as Namjoon’s head disappears in between your legs, and you feel his tongue against your inner thigh. His fingers spread your lips again the way he did before, and then he is giving you open mouthed kisses directly against your clit, making your thighs shake and tremble.

You can’t see anything with the gown in the way, so with one hand you push it up to your waist. Namjoon’s blonde hair in between your thighs greets you, but the man himself is busy stroking his tongue against your clit, your juices all over his chin.

“So fucking sweet. I must say, I’ve never had the privilege to taste any of my patients before, but I bet you’re the sweetest of them all,” Namjoon places his thumb on your clit in slow circles, making eye contact with you before his tongue slides into your pussy.

Watching your fertility doctor eat you out like this must be a dream, you feel as if you’re in heaven especially when Namjoon switches to suckling your clit, and pushes two fingers deep in you. His fingers are long and nimble, hitting your sweet spot exactly right, and the delicious friction from his mouth just about sends you over the edge.

But just before you feel the knot in your lower belly snap, Namjoon pulls away with a satisfied smile, licking his lips and wiping the back of his chin with his hand.

“No cumming yet. You’ll conceive better if you orgasm with my cum right up against your cervix.” Namjoon knows exactly what a tease he’s being as he begins to unbuckle his belt, lowering his zipper and feeling the immense pressure against his cock subside just a little.

The sight of his cock awakens your desperation all over again. He is blessed both in length and girth; you surmise that the fertility specialist must be just as excited to give you a baby as you are, seeing as his cock is already fully hard. You feel a flutter of nerves as Namjoon strokes his cock and positions himself in between your legs. Trying to remember how big your husband’s cock is so that you can compare it to Namjoon’s is futile. All you can concentrate on is Namjoon as he fondles your clit, pushing three fingers inside you to prepare you.

“Please, doctor,” you push your hips toward him as a protest. Your eyes lower to his cock, already red and leaking, wishing you could wrap your hand around him and feel how warm and heavy he is. “It’s been so… hardfor me to have a baby. Please help me and my husband.”

“Don’t worry, just lie back and let me do all the work,” Namjoon pushes his underwear down, giving himself a few strokes and hissing in pleasure. His cock is engorged and angry, precum already dripping from the tip onto your inner thigh.

You can feel the head of his cock nudge against your lower lips, and your stomach tenses in excitement of finally feeling him inside you. “You feel so much bigger than my husband… fuck. A cock like that is sure to give me a baby… not like my pathetic husband.”

Namjoon places his hands on your thighs, hooking them around his waist as he begins to push the tip of his cock into you. The expression on his face is strained, his jaw is clenched at your words. The lubrication of your arousal and his precum allows him to slide in easily, but the stretch makes you wince and Namjoon swears under his breath.

“Fuck, such a tight pussy. I suspected so when I examined you just now, but it seems like even the speculum couldn’t loosen you up enough hmm?” Namjoon pauses for a moment to give you time to adjust, even though he’s barely even an inch deep. “Looks like your useless husband hasn’t been fucking you properly, or else you wouldn’t still be this tight.”

“Please fuck me properly then,” you hook your ankles around his back in an attempt to get his cock even deeper. “Show me how much better you are compared to my husband. When he fucked me I could barely even feel it.”

“Oh, you’ll feel this one alright,” Namjoon agrees with a laugh and a deep thrust of his hips that sends his cock halfway into your depths. Your walls are stretched to accommodate him, but you only urge him on, anxious to feel him all the way. Namjoon accedes to your whines and withdraws just a tad, then fucks you deep until he is buried balls deep in your pussy.

Namjoon leans over the chair to smooth a strand of hair out of your face as he presses a hand to your abdomen. “See this? I can feel my cock all the way here. Could your pathetic little husband do this?”

The veneer of professionalism is gone now as the filthy words begin to pour from his mouth. His hand is on your lower belly, where there is a slight bump from his cock being so deep inside you, and you gasp when he brings your hand down to feel it too. Never have you been penetrated so deep before, and yet the thickness of his cock leaves you almost breathless as Namjoon applies a light pressure on your lower belly.

“This is where I’ll be when I cum,” Namjoon strokes the soft skin of your belly. “Right up against your womb. Giving you a nice load of fresh sperm. Unlike your husband, I am perfectly healthy to fuck a baby into you. No pathetic weak shots of cum. No, my loads are so thick, you’ll feel every spurt against your soft, ripe little cervix.”

“Fuck me please,” you are begging, the torture of just feeling his thick length embedded inside you without even moving is getting to be too much. You attempt to push your hips against him just to feel some friction, but Namjoon’s strength pins you down to the chair. “Give me a baby.”

Namjoon pulls out and sinks back in so fast that your thighs twitch around him, hugging him closer and begging for him to go deeper and harder. Slaps of skin against skin begin to echo around the room, and soon you can feel how wet you are, dripping down your ass and completely soaking Namjoon’s heavy balls that are slapping against you.

“Yeah? You want a baby?” Namjoon’s thrusts are heavy, punishing, as if you deserve it for being such and unfaithful wife who would ask another man to give her a baby. “Whose baby do you want? Your husband’s?”

His cock seems to be splitting you apart. Your pussy is crying for relief, yet you want more of his brutal fucking. Every thrust brings his cock head right to the entrance of your womb, tapping your cervix gently as he reminds you where his cum will end up. When you don’t answer, Namjoon stops thrusting as a punishment.

“Tell me, whose baby do you want?” Namjoon asks again, rubbing his thumb against your clit and making you cry out. “You want your husband to give you a baby?”

“No!” You scream, body thrashing under him, and legs tightening around his slim waist. “I want yours. I want your baby, Doctor Kim.”

Satisfied with your answer, Namjoon resumes thrusting, abandoning his grip around your thighs as he circles your slim waist with his hands to pull you onto his cock. “This flat belly is going to be so round. Even after you’re pregnant, you’re going to keep coming back here aren’t you? Because you can’t resist a good fuck, and no one other than me can give you that.”

“Please, pl-ease,” you voice is barely there, your throat is dry. “Please keep fucking me. Even after you give me a baby.”

Namjoon chuckles as his cock sinks in deep, and he feels your walls flutter around him. “I’ll consider it after sales service for my best patient.”

You can feel your orgasm right there, just out of reach. Your clit is swollen and abused, throbbing just for a little friction that would send you over the edge. Fucked out and completely at his mercy, Namjoon places your legs back on the stirrups, spread wide as they can go as he continues with his punishing thrusts.

“Consider yourself lucky, _____” Namjoon’s thrusts are faltering as he swears under his breath. “I haven’t jerked off in nearly two weeks. You’re getting a huge load today. I hope you’re ready to get pregnant.”

You watch his sweaty face as he pushes his hair off his forehead, glasses slightly askew. His cheeks are rosy with exertion, and you want nothing more than to kiss his plush lips. “I’ve been ready for the past three years, Doctor. I want it. Give me all your cum and give me the baby I always wanted.”

Namjoon seems to want to say something else, but decides against it as he devotes the rest of his energy into his thrusts, pumping his cock in and out of you as you feel him start to twitch against your walls. The composure on his face is slowly slipping away as he pants hard against your skin, leaning over to support himself on the arm rests on either side of you as he fucks you good and deep.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, I can’t hold off much longer,” Namjoon is panting hard as he groans with exertion and pleasure. “Here it comes. Ahhhh, fuuuuck. Take it all. Take all my fucking cum!”

You gasp as he buries his cock to the hilt, feeling him hit your cervix hard one last time as he explodes. Rope after rope of warm cum drenches your womb, and you can feel his cock pulsing as he gives you every drop of his seed. After the first ten or so strong pulses of semen, it starts to slow down a little, and Namjoon thrusts in and out gently, making sure the last few spurts of cum still get as deep as possible.

It feels so wet and warm that you can’t help but relax as your pussy tightens around him to drain him dry. You can’t tell if Namjoon filled you up so much that you’re already leaking his cum, or if it’s just your arousal. Namjoon is still lazily thrusting away in your pussy, and his slower, gentler pace feels nice, but not quite what you need to reach your own orgasm.

After a minute or two, Namjoon slowly pulls out, making sure none of the cum escapes your pussy. He immediately reaches for a setting on the chair to tilt it backwards so that your hips are escalated slightly, and he secures your legs in the stirrups, making sure they’re still spread.

“We doing okay?” He comes over to stroke your hair and wipe away some of the smeared mascara on your cheek.

“I’m fine, doctor,” your eyes are closed and you are savouring the feeling of being warm and full of cum. Your pussy is still throbbing.

“Let me get you cleaned up,” Namjoon’s voice is soft as he moves away, fully aware that you haven’t cum yet.

To your surprise, a moment later you feel something metallic being inserted into your pussy again, and you open your eyes. Namjoon is back between your legs, and you realise that he’s putting the speculum back inside you and widening it so that he can see your cum drenched cervix once more.

“Just making sure you absorb all of that cum,” Namjoon reassures you with his ever gentle, reassuring hands on your skin. “Close your eyes and enjoy yourself, _____. Let me take care of everything.”

Namjoon positions himself so that he can see the flood of white cum coating your insides, and the pool of his semen just lying there. Your cervix is doing its best to soak it all up, but a little help wouldn’t hurt. Stroking your thighs gently, he places his thumb on your clit and rubs it in circles at the pace he knows you like, and sure enough, your body tenses up and your legs shake in the stirrups.

“You’re so close aren’t you?” Namjoon keeps his voice low, reaching for a medical sample jar that he had used to catch all the cum that spilled out when he inserted the speculum into your swollen pussy. He unwraps a sterile syringe to draw up the rest of the cum inside the jar. “Just need a few strokes to cum. Good girl. That’s my good girl… just relax and cum for me.”

His fingers speed up over your clit, and his eyes are drawn to the fascinating sight that is your cervix. With every tightening of your walls, your cervix is expanding and contracting, greedily swallowing down all of his cum so that the pool of semen inside you grows less and less. When you orgasm with a small whine of his name, toes curling and thighs shaking, Namjoon squirts the contents of the syringe into your womb, emptying it thoroughly as he drops a kiss on your knee.

As you calm down from your orgasm, Namjoon watches to make sure the pool of cum inside you is more or less swallowed down by your greedy cervix, before he unscrews the speculum and eases it out of you. He glances up at your face and your eyelids are droopy, chest rising up and down slowly as he helps you get your legs out of the stirrups and places them together on the chair.

“You did so well, that’s my good girl,” Namjoon comes around to kiss your forehead and stroke your cheek. “I think that’ll do it. Just rest here for a few minutes.”

“Come here baby,” you stretch out your hands for a hug, and Namjoon obliges. “How was that? Was my acting good enough?”

“Almost too real,” Namjoon admits with a laugh. “You really got me worked up there with that whole ‘my husband doesn’t know’ thing. When I said surprise me, I didn’t expect you to come up with such an elaborate scheme. I mean, you really went all the way with that roleplay!”

“So you were really shocked to see me walk in here?” You let go of him with a devious grin on your face. But then another though occurs to you. “Wait. 50 year old Mr Jeon Jungkook from Hogwarts? Did you make that up too?”

“Unfortunately I didn’t make that donor up. I think it’s a real error in our database. Probably some stupid young punk who wanted to make a quick buck and troll us at the same time…” Namjoon sighs as he shakes his head and adjusts his glasses, mumbling to himself about the calls he needs to make and the people he needs to sack. A second later, he frowns. “You’re lucky that you really are my last patient. And the whole ovulation thing- did you plan that too?”

“I thought you would have noticed since you got a notification about my ovulation on the app… but this morning you just left for work like normal,” you sit up in your chair and face him, watching his face dawn with realisation.

“Wait, that means… do you… really want to have a baby with me?” Namjoon takes your hand in his, barely able to conceal his excitement. “You’re finally ready?”

“We’ve been married for almost three years so if I don’t pop out like… ten babies for you, people are going to be doubting your capabilities,” you shrug nonchalantly, but there is a genuine smile on your face. “I’m doing it for the sake of your professional career, that’s all. And also, it’s nice to have a qualified specialist taking care of me for free.”

Namjoon is still shocked at your revelation, but he sees right through your wry comment. “I guess not everything in roleplay has to be just pretend. I’m Dr Kim Namjoon after all, and I always keep my promises.” He puts his arm around you and presses a kiss to the top of your head, one hand resting on your lower belly. “I might get you pregnant for free, but I charge for delivery.”

[foxtophat]

hello hello hello

i got thrown off my groove for a month there doing irl shit but i finally sat down and posted this piece of mercy fic that i’ve been sitting on for like a month. it’s all about john and kim hanging out and bonding so that’s fun!!!

i have a couple of ideas for stories but i’m not QUITE SURE how many of them are going to actually get posted. i might do like a yearly synopsis and put it in the series, writing out what happens between stories and stuff so when i reference shit it isn’t out of the blue, BUT ALSO i am lazy and it’s a miracle mercyverse has gotten this much from me, so lets not try to rock the boat huh???

anyway this is a story about john and kim falling into a cave. it’s like a bottle episode except the bottle is like a large intestine.  i hope you like it!!! if you do, consider reblogging this post, or sharing the link, or kudosing or commenting or liking or subscribing or SMASHING THAT BELL

as usual, the story is under the cut for those of you who want to stay on tumblr for some godforsaken reason

Kim had thought that she was doing Nick and John a favor when she first offered to go cache-hunting with them. After all, Grace and Carmina had their hands full working on the yard's shooting range, and there hadn't been anything better to do than dig a couple of holes out in the woods. She'd figured, why not? An extra set of hands could speed things up, and she could keep them focused on digging instead of bickering.

Of course, now that she's out here with them, she regrets ever having offered. As it turns out, their method of cache-hunting involves incessantly goading one another into a fight, trading places between aggressive pessimism and irritatingly fake optimism whenever it might serve to piss the other off more. She's given up on trying to stop it; after all, it's not too much worse than what they say while mending fences and hauling scrap. It's just that the distance between them means that they're arguing at a headache-inducing level.

At the very least, Kim had hoped for some kind of method they could fall back on, but at three hours in, they've all but given up. She supposes the first two caches had been pretty easy to find, being in areas where the terrain hasn't changed much — but this neck of the woods has definitely seen some shifting. Between the rock slides and massive knots of collapsed trees, the steep hillside looks more like a beaver dam than the picturesque hiking trail it probably used to be.

"I'm starting to think that Jacob was full of shit," Nick says, as if he hasn't been reiterating the sentiment for the last thirty minutes. "There's no way we're gonna find anything out here."

Nick might be right, but Kim isn't about to gang up on John right now. She's been mostly staying out of it as the two of them argue about Jacob's map coordinates; why get involved now?

She ignores them and instead picks her way up the hillside towards one of the many uprooted trees nearby. Just like the last dozen trees she's checked, this one doesn't hold a barrel in its roots, nor do any of them have any damn sign indicating where they should be looking. Whatever marker Jacob might've left, paranoid bastard that he was, it's definitely been destroyed by the apocalypse.

"I told you that this wasn't going to be easy," John says. "There's half a mile of trail to search, and there's only three of us. This isn't some pasture outside town —"

"When I asked you if we should bring Grace and Carmina along, you said they would just get in the way! Now here you are, telling me we need more people!"

"If they were here, who do you think Grace would blame if Carmina got a goddamn splinter or scraped her knee? How do you still not get that she is actively looking for a reason to shoot me?"

"At this point, I'm looking for a reason, so I don't know what you're expecting!"

Kim has to admit, they're both making pretty good points. She just wishes they wouldn't make it sound like the start of a fistfight.

John's sigh is especially theatrical, and Kim hears the leaves crunch underfoot as he begins to stalk up the hill after her. He's probably going to try passing her, just to get space from Nick, but he really shouldn't bother. They should at least stop for something to eat and some water, and then they can figure out whether or not expanding the search zone is a good idea. They should probably reconsider their current "poke around and hope" method, too.

Setting her sights on a stout, dead tree with its roots partially torn up, Kim decides to make that the last straw. If she's got any luck at all, the cache will be tangled up in the tree's roots, and she'll be able to gloat about finding it for the rest of forever.

"Don't get too excited," John says, catching up to her as he runs away from Nick.

"Too late for that," Kim teases. "My hopes are at an all-time high. I'm about to be crushed by the disappointment."

"Fantastic," John grunts, rolling his eyes.

He lets her take the first approach on the tree, which juts awkwardly out of the ground at an acute angle. Its scraggly branches are covered in dry needles, and the partially exposed root system seems to have rotted from rain. There are no other trees for a good couple of yards in any direction, so this tree must've gotten the brunt of the worst nuclear weather.

"We should take a break," Nick shouts from halfway down the hill. "I need a goddamn drink!"

"I told him this would be a waste of time," John grumbles. "We could have taken any other location, even the one at the goddamn compound, and had better luck than out here."

"Well, we're here now," Kim replies. "Come on, maybe the cache is tangled up in the roots or something."

John reluctantly follows Kim as she tests the spongier, damp soil around the rotting tree's base. It's clear he's already given up, but that only makes Kim more determined to find something worth the trip out here — at the very least, so that she can rub it in John's pessimistic face. He can't be a sour bastard forever.

No barrel in the root system, of course. All Kim finds is molding wood and the flash of exposed rock. It's just muddy enough that Kim's going to have to scrub her boots when they get back. From here, she can see the slope of the hillside, and the trees that slump with their tops pointed in her direction. It's like they're telling her, go back!

"Please talk Nick into giving this up," John insists, lingering right behind her and scowling at the roots that have betrayed both of them.

"I mean, we've only been out here for two hours. There's plenty of time to find something." Kim crouches down to check the rocky substrate for anything interesting. "Look on the bright side, at least we don't have to dig."

"I think you two are blinded by that bright side of yours." John sighs, leaning against the tree and glaring down in Nick's direction. "You know that the interstate is only a half-day hike from here, right? This is the exact sort of place Jacob would've stashed passports, money — bug-out kits to abandon the county, that kind of thing. It's not like he buried more coffee and rice out here."

"So is that your new theory? Jacob was planning escape routes for you guys?"

John frowns. "It's one of them."

Kim stands and comes around to join him by the trunk. She debates on invoking Jacob's memory any more than she already has; he seems to have a habit of upsetting John even from the grave. She gives the tree trunk a little kick as she considers pressing him, knocking some mud from her boot tread.

Her curiosity takes a backseat as the world lurches uncomfortably beneath them. She catches herself against the trunk and looks towards Nick, who's picking his way up towards them. Only now does she notice that the trees in this direction also lean inwards, towards the lone tree they're currently beside.

John catches on at the same time, hissing under his breath before hollering a warning. "It's a goddamn sinkhole, Nick, watch out!"

The inconvenience turns into real fear as Kim considers the terrain. With all the caves littering the mountains around here, there's no telling how deep the void beneath their feet might be — five feet, twenty? Or, God help them, more?

Kim struggles not to panic as Nick makes no effort to hide his own. "Come on, you guys," Nick calls from between two jutting evergreens, "Just cut across before the whole damn thing gives out!"

There's not a second to spare, but even as Kim starts to move she knows it's too late. She gets one last look at Nick's horrified expression before she, John, and the dead tree crash down into the empty space below.

Kim lands hard on her side, her arm taking the brunt of the blow and blossoming in radiant, white-hot pain. The world around her, suddenly dark and unfamiliar, tunnels alarmingly out of her vision, her blood rushing into her ears until she can only vaguely hear her own pained crying. Trying to move only causes daggers of pain to shoot right up her arm and into her brain, but she only finds that out as she rolls off of her definitely broken arm. At least, Kim's pretty sure it's broken. She's terrified of looking over and seeing her bone poking out, or something even worse — she knows that she won't be able to stand it, that she'll pass out, and she can't do that down here in this goddamn cavern!

Vague, warped voices vibrate through her as John appears abruptly by her side. The left side of his face is covered in a smear of blood from a deep wound scored over his brow. His mouth moves like he's trying to speak to her. God, her fucking arm!

"Take a deep breath," John commands once again, and this time Kim hears him and abides. The pain doesn't subside, but at least the panic that comes with it is softened as she struggles to calm down. As she does, the background noises begin to come into focus; the crumbling rubble settling, the sharp, birdless silence of the air, and most importantly, Nick hysterically shouting her name from above.

John puts a hand on the shoulder not currently delivering mountains of pain. "Another one," he says, and Kim obeys. It's while she's trying to catch her breath that John steps away, cupping his hands to his mouth and shouting up, "Kim's broken her arm!"

"God damn it, what happened — never mind, just —! Stay put! I'll go get help!" Nick's voice cracks as he realizes aloud, "Shit, there's nobody to get help from!"

Kim sucks in a deep breath. There's no way that John is going to be able to handle Nick's mounting panic by himself, and so she steels herself and tries to steady her voice. "It's gonna be okay!" she shouts. "I'm fine!"

"Bullshit you're fine, that looks like a two-story drop from here!"

John swears under his breath. "I don't have time for this."

"He's going to try and jump down if we don't talk him out of it," Kim hisses, closing her eyes as a wave of painful pins and needles washes up her arm. She keeps accidentally moving it, and the feeling of the bone scraping is enough to make her want to vomit.

John clearly decides she's right, changing tactics as Kim desperately tries not to start sobbing again. "It isn't bad, Nick!" he shouts, "But I need rope if I'm going to splint it! Get the cord from the glove box!"

Nick is quiet for a moment. "Y-Yeah," he calls down shakily, "I... I guess you got plenty to work with — hold on!"

Kim lets out a breath she hadn't meant to hold, then bites back the scream that threatens to rip from her throat. "Please tell me you can do this," she moans as John crouches down beside her broken arm. "I can't look — is there bone?"

"There's no bone," John replies. His voice is tight and unhappy, but at least he isn't lacking in confidence when he tells her, "I know what I'm doing. Try to stay conscious, and don't move. The last thing I need is to be stuck alone with Nick."

"Excuse him for worrying," she groans, staring up at the sky through the fifteen-foot-wide hole above her. She counts down the seconds until Nick gets back, if only to focus on something other than the pain.

John leaves her to it, making his way over to the tree that's joined them here in the cavern. There isn't much else down here besides them and the vegetation that came down with them; the sinkhole must have joined with a cavern somewhere along the way. The rock here probably hasn't seen daylight before — when she glances around, she spots a dark crack in the wall that implies there might be more, unlit caves to explore beyond.

Boy, she really does not want to go into that creepy tunnel, and she especially doesn't want to do it with a broken arm. Thankfully, Nick returns before that worry turns to panic.

"Everything okay? Actually, never mind — look, I got the rope, and the first-aid kit!"

Anything Nick decides to throw down is going to stay down here, and so Kim quickly stops him. "You keep that, Nick! If you get hurt up there, you'll need it!"

"We need it more," John points out, returning to her with a few branches that he clearly intends to use as a splint. He's not wrong about the medkit; the cut over his eye is a nasty one, and Kim could use all of those expired painkillers about now. Not to mention, there might be more injuries they've missed.

Still. "I'm not leaving Nick without supplies," she says.

John doesn't reply, but his scowl speaks volumes.

After a minute or so, Nick is ready to throw the cord down. They coordinate the hand-off just fine without her, which is great, because Kim needs to reserve all of her strength for what's to come.

Nick's bundled a few of the medical supplies into his worn-out flannel, along with the crank flashlight and one of the ultra-dry military rations, all tied off with the paracord. Kim is both touched at the thought and horrified at the idea that they might be here long enough to get hungry.

"This is good, Nick," John calls. "We're in a cave — there's got to be another way out nearby!"

"I'll go look for a way in!"

"No," Kim shouts, her voice cracking, "You might get hurt, Nick!"

"Well, what the hell am I supposed to do, Kim! I'm not gonna leave you down there!"

Kim has never in her life imagined that she would say her next words, but that doesn't mean she doesn't mean it. "I'm going to be okay! John's down here with me, I'll be fine!"

John doesn't seem to have expected her to say that, either, boggling at her with open confusion. But... well, come on! If John can trust her enough to gun down Peggies trying to kidnap him, then she can at least trust him to help her limp out of one of Hope County's many caves. Sure, it's not an ideal situation by any means, but Kim's just happy not to be stuck looking for a way out by herself.

"Are you sure you can even walk?" Nick calls uneasily.

"I can handle it, Nick," John replies for her. "We'll look for a way out — if we don't find anything in an hour, we'll come back here and try something else!"

"What the hell do you want me to do!"

John pauses long enough to look at Kim, but since he seems to have more ideas than she does, she defers to his judgment. "Circle west around the hill and look for any entrances to call from! There's going to be a cave opening somewhere nearby!"

"I don't like any of this, Kim!"

John pinches the bridge of his nose, leaving Kim to answer, "It's the only plan we've got!"

The silence from above stretches out. "We don't have time for this," John mutters, abandoning his attempts to reassure Nick. "There's no telling where a way out might be, and I'm not wasting more time because Nick can't trust me."

"It's not about trust," Kim snipes in return. "He's trying not to panic."

John only grunts in return, settling on his knees next to her as he prepares to do the hard part for her. That leaves it up to Kim to encourage Nick to get a move on; she really doesn't want him sticking around for the painful part. "Nick, be careful, I don't want you to fall in another sinkhole! We'll be okay!"

Nick is frustratingly silent for another moment, but eventually, he relents. "Okay, fine! Remember to mark your path! And don't trust any ropes or ladders you see! And stay outta any water you find, you don't know how deep it is!"

"Jesus Christ," John mutters.

"Oh, shut up," Kim tells him, lifting her strained voice to call back. "Alright, Nick! We'll be careful! We'll see you soon!"

Kim makes John wait another minute after Nick leaves before she lets him at her arm. Despite his sour expression, John manages to be nothing more than stern, and surprisingly gentle. "Careful," he tells her, as if she needs a warning as he adjusts her broken arm. She's unable to decide if the burning sensation or the stabbing sensation is worse, but they're both vying for the spot as John examines the fracture. God, she hopes he knows what he's doing. She hopes it heals clean. She doesn't know what she'll do if she loses the thing.

John jostles her a little too abruptly, and a gasp of pain tears her from her downward spiral of worst possible outcomes. If John notices, he doesn't comment.

"It's not so bad," he says, although Kim's still not sure if she trusts his judgment on the matter. "It seems like a single fracture. I'll splint it, and... Well, there's somebody in town with medical experience, isn't there?"

"I don't know," Kim gasps, head reeling, "Maybe?"

John sighs. "Well, at least you'll survive."

"You better hope so," Kim jokes, or tries to anyway.

John rolls his eyes, but thankfully he's not in a vindictive mood as he prepares to set her arm. "You'll want to scream," he tells her. "Try breathing through your nose instead."

He sure isn't wrong. Kim can't think straight for a minute after he's finished, her face wet as the pain forces her to tears, but John is utterly detached and methodical as he binds her arm to one of the branches. It's reassuring at first, but Kim can't help but wonder just how many people suffered broken bones and serious trauma at his hands, only to see the same dispassionate bedside manner afterward? God, assuming they even survived what he put them through.

"Catch your breath," John tells her once he's done, standing and turning back to further investigate the tree. "The cave systems go on for miles down here, but there are dozens of openings in the hills. As long as we stick to the larger tunnels, we should be able to find one of them."

Kim watches him pick through the tree, sizing out larger branches and dismissing them one by one.

"I'm surprised you're not more freaked out," she says as he picks out a four-foot branch. "You know, being underground and everything."

John furiously breaks the branch from the trunk, then roughly cleans it of dead sprigs and foliage. "Thank you for reminding me."

"Sorry, I just meant —"

"I know what you meant," he says. "It's fine. I'm not... Like I said, these tunnels are hardly inescapable." He strikes the branch against the ground and seems satisfied by the sound. "I spent a lot of time studying the cave systems out here. We considered using them for passage between the gates, but that plan never went anywhere. It left me with enough useless knowledge that I'm not prone to panic down here."

"Useless until now," Kim points out. "Now help me up and let's get the hell out of here."

John helps her to her feet with her good arm, careful not to jostle the splint as she tests her balance. The world heaves for an uncomfortable second or two before righting itself, although it's mostly shock and adrenaline keeping her moving. She's not sure how long that's going to last, but she sure hopes it's long enough to reunite with Nick.

"I should probably lead," John says, looking unhappy about her tentatively upright position.

"Yeah, I don't think I'm in the position to trail-blaze."

"You're barely in the position to walk," he replies. Casting one last look around the sunlit cavern, John turns towards the dark crack in the wall that leads further into the system. "Try not to pass out."

"No promises," she says, staggering her way to their only exit.

She can feel the cool, musty air from here, oddly relieving against her sweaty face. She wishes she hadn't watched The Descent so many times before the apocalypse, because that is really coloring her perception of this situation. Of course, they're more likely to run into a wolverine or bear den than they are to be hunted by a pack of cave-dwelling mutants, but that doesn't stop her from considering it.

John starts forward. Kim, anxious and trembling in pain, tries to joke. "Just avoid stepping on any weird symbols carved into the ground, okay?"

"Christ," John groans, the same way he does every time somebody tries to rope him in with a pop-culture reference. He winds the flashlight up and the beam of light cuts a sharp swath across the dark tunnel "Will you two please let that Hollywood bullshit die already?"

"Oh, relax," she replies. "Tropes are older than L.A. and you know it. They aren't going to disappear just because civilization got nuked."

"One can dream," John snipes dryly in return.

Of course, even with the attitude, John keeps close to Kim, sticking to her uninjured side. Kim imagines her slow pace must be irritating the crap out of him, but he impressively manages not to sigh or stomp like a passive-aggressive toddler. He's been getting a lot better about letting his exasperation get to him, although she bets it's got a lot to do with exhaustion and survival instinct right now.

The silence stretches for a time between them. Kim imagines John is lost in his thoughts, but she's been hyper-aware of every distant sound of rubble shifting or oddly-shaped rock formations that are easy to mistake for humanoid shapes in the dark. The tunnel is only about eight feet across and somewhat taller than that, but that's plenty of room for Kim's imagination to play tricks on her.

"I always thought your anti-Hollywood thing was some kind of shtick," she admits. "Maybe you got scorned on a screenplay or something, I dunno. But you really believe that all of the entertainment industry deserved to get firebombed out of existence?"

"It deserved a reckoning," John replies.

"You mean something like nuclear annihilation?"

John's frown deepens. "Maybe," he says stiffly.

Normally, Kim would try to dig into that more, but she's not in a position to make much sense of it right now. Honestly, the conversation is irrelevant — she just needs something to keep her from fantasizing about monsters in the dark. Or, you know, passing out. Whichever would be worse.

"So I guess you don't have a desert island five, then."

John huffs loudly at that. "I wouldn't be able to remember it."

That just tells Kim that he does have one. She bets American Psycho or Fight Club was on it. Maybe Fear and Loathing?

"Okay, well... say you had to pick a movie to watch as soon as we got home. What would it be?"

Even without looking, Kim knows he's rolling his eyes. "Seriously? Is this really the time?"

"Humor me."

He groans in annoyance, but Kim doesn't miss the short stretch of silence that follows as he thinks it over.

"I don't know," he finally grumbles.

"Come on, you've got to have something."

"I only ever saw a handful of movies growing up, and I lost interest in the medium in college."

"God, you must have been a pretentious bastard."

Despite himself, John chuckles at the jab. "Oh, you have no idea," he replies.

The conversation dies, just like John had probably hoped it would. Kim tries to find something else to distract her, but there's really not much to look at. They've only found one offshoot that John had been able to fit in, but it had ended only a few yards in. They've been exploring for maybe fifteen minutes, though; there's still time for a miracle. Until then, she's got moss to look at, and the distant trickle of water from somewhere far away. With the way the land's shifted, there may be a new river forming somewhere up on the surface. In a few decades, it could swallow these caverns entirely.

"How does your arm feel?" John asks, his voice bouncing off the walls and breaking the silence.

"Not... great," she admits, still trying not to focus on the numb agony of her arm. "I wouldn't mind lying down and sleeping for a few weeks right about now, but I think I can keep it together until we find a way out."

She hopes, anyway.

"Good." John takes a moment to crank the flashlight before it can go out, then picks up the conversation as though Kim weren't even there. "There's nobody in town that I know of that has serious medical experience. With the gates destroyed, there's no telling where the experts we'd vetted for the Project wound up. Dead, probably. Or worse, still involved with Joseph. Hell, even a vet would be better than nothing."

He's definitely more anxious than he wants to let on. Kim doesn't believe for a second that being in this endless, dark tunnel is any better than being trapped in a bunker, save for maybe the space. At least in a bunker, you know which way is out, and you know what's going to kill you.

Now Kim is the one who starts to ramble. "I mean, there's got to be an eagle scout out there somewhere. And there were a couple of doctors still working when I had Carmina — one of them might've survived, right? Somebody out there will know enough to check your handiwork. For the record, though, I think you did a pretty good job for a guy stuck in a pit."

John shakes his head. "I've set plenty of broken limbs." There's a weird sort of challenge in his voice as he says, "Of course, I was the one who broke most of them."

"And I think you feel pretty shitty about it, so I don't know why you sound so smug."

"I'm just reminding you of who you're trying to compliment."

Kim rolls her eyes, her exasperation carrying over in her voice. "I know exactly who you are, John. Quit trying to rile me up like you do with Nick, it isn't going to work."

He huffs. "Sure," he says, then promptly shuts up. Of course he does. No wonder he only ever wants to talk to Nick — it's like he doesn't know how to hold a conversation without trying to start a fight.

Well, Kim needs something to distract her, so she'll carry on with it herself. "I've sprained my ankle a couple of times, but the only time I've ever broken a bone was in soccer camp when I was... thirteen, I think? It was my big toe, and the humiliation was way worse than the pain."

"I can't imagine," John drawls, distinctly unenthusiastic.

Kim opens her mouth to ask the obvious question, then catches herself. Asking about John's past is essentially opening Pandora's box; every time Kim has gone digging, she comes away with something new she wishes she could forget about. The breadcrumbs of information he's given her over the past year or so have honestly kept her up some nights. She probably doesn't want to know anything about the number of broken bones John's had. She definitely doesn't want to know how.

John looks over at her, daring her to ask. It's only when Kim manages to contain her curiosity that he parts with a few terse details. "The first time was when I was eleven. It was a powerful learning experience. One I... try not to revisit."

"Sure," she says. It sounds reasonable enough, anyway.

The flashlight's beam cuts across the wall further ahead, revealing the first major fork that they've come across. They're forced to take an impromptu break as John tries to determine their best way forward. John scowls at the darkness in either direction, but it doesn't seem to help make a decision. Meanwhile, Kim takes the opportunity to rest against the cold stone, swallowing down the nausea that's starting to build. It's a miracle that she's made it this far without fainting, but she doesn't think John's in the mood to hear that.

Frowning, John turns the flashlight back the way they came, sweeping the light down the forking path. "Strange," he mutters.

"What?"

"It's nothing," he says, sweeping the light down the way they came. "Except... see this?"

He steps closer to highlight a uniformly rectangular notch in the wall, just about hip-level. Moving the light reveals more, equally spaced notches, continuing along the wall of the newest fork in their road.

"There were guide ropes installed at one point or another. It doesn't seem to be an active mine, though — it must've been for dumb tourists, just in case of lawsuits."

"I hate to tell you, John, but right now, we're the dumb tourists."

"Unfortunately so. I guess that means we should take the left."

It's smaller, and it looks just as untouched as the rest of the cave has so far, but John's made a compelling point about the seemingly man-made notches.

"You're the expert," Kim says, "I'll take your word for it."

"Alright," he says, not as enthusiastic as Kim would have hoped for. He eyes her somewhat critically, then asks, "How are you doing?"

It's probably the pain making her delirious, but she's surprised at John's concern for her wellbeing. She really shouldn't be. Of course he cares; even if he weren't actively trying to be less awful, he's too smart to leave Kim down here and risk Nick finding out. But still. She's pain-addled enough to be touched by the sentiment.

That doesn't mean she's in the mood to sugarcoat the truth. "I'm surprised I'm still standing," she says. "Let's just hope we find Nick before I pass out."

"I'm sure he'd enjoy seeing me carrying your limp body out of the abandoned mine."

Kim laughs, regretting it as it sends an ache jolting through her body. "Oh, I bet. Just don't be surprised if I tap out at some point."

"You're stronger than that," John remarks. "Follow me."

Now, following John Seed through a dark cave tunnel with a broken arm seems like it would be a bad time. If this were ten, eleven years ago, Kim's sure she would be hunting for a weapon or looking for her own escape route. That is, of course, assuming he hadn't left her to die down here. No doubt that her survival would've banked on how much he would have needed her.

She's glad that's not the case now. John is a reliable navigator, slow-going and cautious as he leads the way, testing suspect rock formations and ducking into narrow crags that don't go anywhere. Honestly, he's probably being more cautious than they need to be. It's already been a half-hour or so, and they're going to need to turn back before much longer.

John has other concerns to bother him, though. "I wonder what happened to the anchors," he says at one point. "You'd think we would have found one by now."

"Maybe they took the rope down before the Collapse," Kim points out. "Lots of tourist traps weren't exactly up to code. Earl probably got here way before we did, back when he was trying to crack down on these kinds of things."

John frowns thoughtfully. "Maybe."

"It's not like people are down here renovating for the next season."

"We don't know that," he points out grimly. "Survivors might've hidden from the radiation down here. Or maybe some angels got lost after Faith was killed."

"Come on, John," she groans.

"Nick's always wondering where the mutants are. Maybe we'll be the ones to find them."

Kim side-eyes John just in time to catch the remnants of a smirk on his face, and she can't help but elbow him with her good arm. She tries to admonish him, telling him, "Knock it off," but she can't help laughing as she does.

"You're probably right about the code violations," John chuckles at last, lifting the light to check the ceiling ahead as it dips low enough for them to need to duck. "Not a lot of these cave systems were what I'd call safe. It's one of the reasons we decided against using them as tunnels. The work involved was too expensive, and the chance of cave-ins was too high. And, as we've found out, they weren't guaranteed to stay underground."

"So, what was going to happen instead? Were you guys going to rely on radios, or what?"

"It doesn't matter what we decided," John points out, more weary of the conversation than irritated. "The gates were barely finished before the Deputy destroyed them, and we never got to find out what might've happened."

They follow the notches through two more forks, and Kim starts to worry that they're only going deeper into the old attraction. Well, at least they're taking the easy way. With a smooth floor and a ceiling that rarely drops lower than eight feet, Kim gets the impression that they're in a manufactured mine, and not an organic one. For all they know, some crazy prepper dug this tunnel out to make a quick buck for his bunker-building hobby. Of course, if that's the case, it's a miracle that nothing's caved in yet.

They pass underneath a lower segment of the ceiling, and the tunnel abruptly opens up into a massive cavern. Defunct light rigs are scattered amongst the stalagmites, with several hanging stalactites covered in chipped fluorescent paint. The rest of the rock outcroppings are covered in lichen, which disappointingly fails to glow in the dark. As John sweeps the flashlight across the large, empty space, Kim gets a good idea of the cheap edu-tainment that was offered on short hikes through the mines. Somewhere in here, there's probably a storage closet full of Halloween decor waiting to liven up the otherwise boring cavern.

"Well, this wasn't worth the twenty dollars it cost to get in," John grouses.

"Don't forget the thirty-dollar iron-on tee-shirts they print off at home," Kim reminds him with a laugh. It's enough to make her lightheaded, and she doesn't quite regain her balance, even after she braces herself against the wall.

"We can only rest a minute," he warns her, sweeping the light in the direction they need to go. Any more huffing and puffing on his part is diminished as the light glints off the rounded edge of something metallic. When John refocuses the light on the object, neither of them really know what to say.

Lying amongst the rocks, battered and dirty, is one of the dark green bliss containers they've been looking for. Kim looks up, but the ceiling is rooted in darkness, and she can't see any sign of another cave-in or sinkhole. The idea that Jacob might've come this far himself crosses her mind, but if that were the case, why is it sitting out in the open like that?

"John, wait," Kim calls as John steps off the path. Suddenly, all her jokes about booby traps seem tasteless, especially with John charging into the unknown like he is.

Of course, this isn't Indiana Jones, and there's no pit of spikes or tripwire to trigger. John doesn't wind up with a face-full of poison darts as he picks up the dented canister; the only thing he's forced to sacrifice is a good grip on the flashlight, which shines at an awkward angle and only illuminates a useless part of the floor. His slow pace and the bad lighting leave Kim to imagine what he's found inside — remnants of supplies, or a dead animal? Indications that something chewed through the rubber sealant, maybe?

John drops the barrel between them, the clanging metal causing Kim to jump. John doesn't notice as he reorients the light, leaning over to illuminate the barrel's contents. The interior is flaked with rust, and whatever sealant had been used is all but completely worn away. The only thing left inside is an empty, smashed bottle of liquor and a few wrapped, moldy packages of cigarettes.

"I don't know if I'm disappointed or not," Kim says.

"I know I am," John replies, grimly reaching into the empty barrel to check for a false bottom. The screech of metal rises up into the cavern, bouncing off the far ceiling and turning into an ugly birdsong. Kim leans back against the wall; if she keeps looking down, she's going to end up toppling over like a broken Weeble-Wobble. John glances her way after a moment, before lifting a clump of wet paper out from the depths of the barrel.

"Of course he buried documents here," John mutters. Kim can't quite pin down whether he's upset or resigned to the bad luck at this point.

"Anything salvageable?" she asks.

"Doubtful. I'll... bring these along, I guess." He checks again, digging out what he can. Other than the loose papers, there's a water-logged manila envelope and an equally soaked box of ammunition. John tucks the box away in his front pocket, holding the papers uncomfortably in his hand. "We'll worry about what these are once we're out of here."

Despite the pain in her arm giving her full-body tremors and John's dismal mood, Kim is nearly upbeat as they exit the cavern. They're still in civilization, after all, even if it's a defunct tourist trap, and the knowledge that they're clearly on their way out is the main thing keeping her moving. If they're lucky, they aren't too far from the truck — if they're really lucky, Nick will have found the entrance before them.

They eventually find a few anchors that are still moored to the walls, a knotted bit of rope still attached, and Kim breathes a sigh of relief. The sigh quickly turns to a groan of pain as she rattles her arm, but at least it isn't enough to knock her off her feet.

John hesitates in front of her, slowing just enough so that he can offer his arm to her. "We can't stop now," he tells her.

"I know," she pants, wiping sweat from her forehead that she hadn't realized was gathering. "Okay. We're nearly there."

She gives up on pretending entirely, leaning heavily against John as they continue forward. Lying down and resting for, oh, a hundred years or so sounds great right now, but first, she needs to make sure Nick hasn't had a heart attack waiting for them. He's probably convinced himself that they've gotten killed somehow, and John isn't going to be able to talk him down on his own.

They approach what will hopefully be the last fork in the tunnel, only to find that both directions have anchors. The newest offshoot seems to curve pretty severely downwards, though; it's clear even as they stop that they should stick to the path they've been on.

"I don't like this," John says, looking first behind them and then ahead, down the new path.

"Fine," Kim groans, "You can choose the next tourist trap we get stuck in."

"I'm serious, Kim." John turns the flashlight down the new path. The air coming from that direction is thick and stagnate — Kim's imagination unhelpfully supplies a few images of killer clowns and deformed mutants to lurk down in the dark that way. God, why did she have to like horror movies so much? Why couldn't she have enjoyed normal, safe entertainment that wouldn't have filled her imagination with monsters and a deep-rooted fear of the unexplored dark?

It certainly doesn't help as John says, "I keep getting the feeling that we're being watched."

"Okay, that's it," Kim snaps, desperately trying to bury the surge of fear the suggestion fills her with. "I'm done being creeped out."

"I'm not trying to scare you —"

"Well, you're naturally gifted, okay? Look, let's just — we know that's the way out," she says, nodding towards the safer route. "Let's just go that way. The sooner we get out of here, the better."

"Agreed," John grunts.

John adopts a brisk walk that Kim has some trouble keeping up with, but she's not interested in slowing down for anything. She feels vindicated by their choice of exit as they pass a faded safety sign lying on the ground, as well as the decidedly fresher air coming in from what Kim expects to be the exit. There are a few moments where John has to resist breaking out into a jog; Kim can't exactly blame him, but his jitters are amping up her own anxiety, and now she's trying desperately to listen for chasing footsteps behind them. It's hard to hear much of anything over the blood pounding in her ears.

It's a massive relief when John finally slows down. "It must have been an animal," he says at last, casting one last look behind them. "God, I fucking hate being underground."

"Well, let's hope we aren't leading the mutants to the surface world," Kim jokes. It probably would land better if she didn't sound completely wiped.

John frowns at her, but the dark makes it hard to pin down his expression. "We're almost there," he says, which sounds alarming like a reassurance.

Her spirits lift as they pass an overturned rail barricade, but the wind is immediately taken out of her sails as they find the path blocked by a chained and padlocked gate. The thick gauge chain-link fence has been welded to brackets on the wall; the bottom has been bent outwards, likely from some angry animal forcing its way through. Unfortunately, it's too small for either of them to get through.

"For fuck's sake," John hisses between gritted teeth.

They're not going anywhere, and Kim's nausea forces her to find something more solid than John for support. She manages to stagger to the nearest wall before falling against it, but it's enough to make her regret moving at all.

At least she manages a weak thumbs up when John anxiously asks, "Are you alright?"

"Just — giving you room to work," she gurgles, staggering a few feet back down the path before throwing up.

John swears under his breath as Kim tries to coax her headache back to something more manageable. She can hear him tearing at the gate behind her; if she weren't feeling so miserable, she'd probably be flipping out on it, too. As it is, she takes her sweet time to turn around and start back for the fence, watching as John tries to widen the gap left behind by some tenacious wolverine. It's going to wreck her arm to try and weasel through the hole, but Kim is willing to try anything at this point.

"How far are we from the truck?" Kim rasps. "Maybe Nick can hear us?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know?" John snaps, well past the end of his rope. Kim has to admit, she's surprised he made it this far. "God damn it, I don't know where we are any better than you!"

"Okay, point taken," Kim says — after all, she's in no position to argue with him. As it is, it's taking most of her focus to keep from sinking to the ground. As soon as she's sitting, she's going to pass out, and she's not in any position to be doing that yet.

Thankfully, Nick's voice reaches them before she can give up. A tidal wave of relief floods Kim at the sound of him calling her name; she staggers forward, gripping the chain-link with her good arm.

"Nick!" she shouts. The sound of her own voice bouncing off the walls only amplifies her pounding headache, but it doesn't stop her from shouting his name a few more times in desperation.

John grabs her good shoulder. "Careful," he says, "Take it easy."

"You take it easy," Kim snaps as Nick's voice bounces off the far-away cave entrance. Trying to glare at John is a mistake, as vertigo nearly sends her to the floor. The only thing that keeps her upright is John's grip on her arm, easing her back until she finds the wall for support.

"Let me handle it," he says.

Kim has no choice but to follow his orders, reeling against the wall as he picks up the impromptu game of Marco Polo. She's not sure how much time passes between her slow, long blinks, but all that matters is the moment that she sees Nick appear with the lantern held high. It's enough to bring her to tears — well, that and the dizzying pain — and from Nick's tearful shout, it's having the same effect on him.

"Oh, thank Christ," he gasps as he reaches the gate, rattling it with his free hand as if he could just pry it back. "Kim, you're alive! Are you okay?" He turns the full force of his relief on John, concern furrowing his brow. "Jesus, John, are you okay? We needa get that cut looked at."

"It's fine," John says. "You didn't see any keys anywhere, did you?"

"Let me go check the ticket booth," Nick replies. "Don't worry, you guys — I'm not about to let a goddamn padlock stop me."

Nick jogs back down the tunnel and Kim finally sags, sliding to the ground with a tired groan.

"Okay, John," she sighs, "Mission accomplished. Wake me up when we get home."

"Kim, hold on," John replies, but frankly there's no stopping her now. This was as far as she'd hoped to get on her own two feet, and honestly, she's surprised that she made it that far.

She does rouse briefly as Nick begins wailing on the padlock with a steel pipe, but that's something the boys can handle without her. Here and there, she registers hands on her, and dappled light flashes over her face as they finally escape the caves. The fresh air brings her back long enough to help Nick get her settled in the truck, but she's already dozing off by the time John and Nick start arguing again. The rest of the trip, for better or worse, is completely lost on her.

————

When Kim finally comes to, she's immediately met by the familiar sight of her room at home. She can't tell what time it is, only that it's late enough for the lamp to be lit. Judging by the voices downstairs, everyone is still awake — and going by the sling and bandages, they've had some company since she was last conscious. She allows herself to imagine the whole thing was all a horrible nightmare, just for a second, but the throbbing in her arm is already reminding her of the unfortunate truth. At least she can check "escape mutants in a tunnel" off of her bucket list.

She doesn't have long to focus on the slowly returning pain; it's not even a minute later that she hears boots on the stairs, and Nick pokes his head in not long after.

"Hey," is about all she can muster up before she has to clear her throat, but it's enough.

"Christ, Kim!" he exclaims, throwing open the door as he rushes to her side. The worry breaks on his face as he crouches beside her, careful not to jostle her broken arm. "Are you okay? How do you feel?"

"Uh... not awesome," she admits, shifting in an attempt to sit up. Nick hurries to help her, and she can't help but smile at him as he piles the pillows behind her. "Better now, though."

"That's what I'm here for," Nick laughs, "That and making everybody else uncomfortable. They kept tellin' me not to worry, but you know how hard that is."

"They?"

"Well, John mostly, until Jerome and Grace showed up. Then I had to keep it together for Carmina, so that helped. Uh. How much do you remember about gettin' back here?"

"Not much," Kim says. Now that she's more conscious, she's able to discern the late evening light for what it is; it's been hours since she was last aware of where she was. "I... remember getting into the truck, I think? And then... Nothing. Why? What did I miss?"

Nick shakes his head, smiling fondly at her. "Nothing much, honest. Most of the ride back was me and John arguing about what to do. He radioed Jerome for help while I got you up here and settled in, then I called up Grace so she could keep Carmina busy until Jerome showed up with some help. I guess Winona, y'know, down at the Eagle? She was getting her nursing degree, or license, or whatever, so Jerome brought her over here to help out. She said it looked like a clean enough break, and John did a good job setting it, so we just had to make sure you wouldn't be accidentally moving in your sleep." He chuckles. "You know, real exciting stuff."

"Oh, boy," Kim groans, "I bet I scared the crap out of Carmina. Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she's fine. Worried about you, obviously, but Grace gave her a pep talk and we kept her busy downstairs. Figured you oughta be awake before she came to see you."

"Good call." Kim briefly debates whether or not getting out of bed is worth it, but she quickly decides against it. Even if she weren't wiped out, Nick looks like he'd fall apart with worry if she tried to exert herself. "You might have to go get her, because I don't think I could move if I wanted to."

"Don't even think about it," Nick says, pointing at her as he gets back to his feet. "You're on bed rest until tomorrow at least. I'll be right back."

Kim dozes for the few minutes that stretch between Nick leaving and Carmina coming up the stairs. It's impossible to fall back asleep, but the rest is good enough on its own. She makes sure to perk up when she hears Carmina coming up the stairs, smiling wide as her daughter enters the doorway.

"Hey, honey," she says, her voice rougher than she'd expected it to be.

"Mom!" Carmina exclaims, careful to avoid jostling Kim as she climbs into the bed on her good side. "I was so worried!"

Kim folds her arm around Carmina's shoulders and gives her a squeeze. "I know, sweetheart. I didn't mean to spook you."

"What happened? Dad said you and John fell into a cave!"

"That's pretty much it," Kim laughs. "We fell through a sinkhole into an old cave system. It used to be a place people could visit, though, so it wasn't hard to find our way out."

Carmina frowns, picking at a loose thread in the comforter. "But it was probably really dark. And your arm was broken, and John busted his head open, and..."

"First of all, his head wasn't busted open," Kim says, reaching up to ruffle Carmina's hair. "He probably needed a few stitches, sure, but he knew what he was doing, and we both made it out okay. And your dad got the flashlight to us, so we had plenty of light to see by."

Obviously, Kim never wants to go back to that awful place, but she needs her daughter to learn not to panic now, in case she ever has to go into those tunnels herself. There's no summer camp to enroll her in that will teach her how to be mindful of caves, so Kim's going to have to do it herself... She just wishes she'd gotten to it before she'd had her own scary experience.

Carmina huffs, frowning briefly at the door. "You were lucky John was there," she says.

Kim bites back on her knee-jerk reaction to scoff at the idea. "You're right," she admits, a little more reluctant to do so than she really should be.

"Nobody else thinks so," Carmina grumbles. "Grace got mad dad left you two down there and then Jerome got mad at John for getting you hurt and Winona was really mad that she had to give John stitches. I wanted to say something but dad wouldn't let me."

"That's because they have good reasons not to trust him," Kim points out, although that excuse is starting to wear a little thin, even with her. "They just need time."

Carmina groans. "I guess. I'm... just really glad you're okay."

Kim squeezes Carmina's shoulder. "Me too."

Carmina sighs. "So... what was it like?" she asks, unable to resist her curiosity any longer.

That's okay by Kim — she could use the distraction. "Well... it was dark, and chilly. It was really quiet — the only thing we could hear was water dripping on the walls and our footsteps. The tunnel wasn't very interesting... but there was a big cavern in the middle where we found the cache, covered in stalactites and stalagmites. You could see where they used to have lights rigged up, and they'd painted some of the rocks to glow in the dark."

"You didn't see any animals?" Carmina frowns. "I always thought animals would hide in the caves."

Kim absolutely will not be telling her daughter about John's creepy sense of danger, thanks. "You know, we didn't. There isn't a lot of food for rabbits or cougars in there, though. I think they usually prefer little caves, not big ones."

There are plenty more questions for Carmina to ask that Kim only barely knows the answers to. Thankfully, geography and natural history are easy to teach hands-on; while she's not about to go back to the cave they just escaped, there are a couple of old attractions she remembers visiting that might do the trick. Places with good gift shops and little museums and educational plaques everywhere to help Kim explain how basic geology works.

"If you want, we can do some cave exploring of our own one day," Kim offers. "I'll need some time to get better, first. And I'll have to find the right place. But when we have some free time..."

"That sounds fun," Carmina says. "Just don't fall into another one first?"

"I'll do my best. We'll, uh, teach you what to look for so you don't make the same mistake."

They talk for a little while longer about the cave systems that litter Hope County, but it's not exactly Kim's favorite topic right now. It's a relief when Carmina declares that she needs water; even more so when she offers to bring some up to Kim. She considers asking Carmina to relay her thanks to John, but it can honestly wait until morning. Hopefully by then, she'll have adjusted to the makeshift cast, although she suspects she'll have plenty of time to get used to it. How long does it take a broken bone to heal, she wonders? Probably a few months, at least. She's really going to have to take it easy, and hope that nothing catastrophic happens while she's down one working arm.

[thesaltyoceanwaves]

Good Intentions

Ao3

Based off this post. You guys really seemed to like it, so here you go.

The plan to ruin Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s reputation and credibility was well under way. And while there had been a bump in the road with Bustier undoing her seat switch plan at the end of the day, Lila still considered the day a victory. After all, she managed to sow the seeds of distrust, and the class managed to believe her over Marinette. She gave the baker girl maybe a month, tops, before everything came crashing down on her, and with no way to prove that Lila had anything to do with it.

Of course, there was still the issue of Adrien, but he was a pushover. All he wanted was to make friends! He had no spine, and it would only be a matter of time before she had him twisted around her little finger.

That night, maybe an hour or so before retiring to bed, she hatches her next plan and hits up Alya with a text:

L: Hey, Alya? Could I have Marinette’s number? I’d like to work things out with her and maybe even get her opinion on some clothes??

Usually, for texts like these, she gets a pretty immediate response. She even gets the animation indicating that Alya is typing a message, only for it to stop and no message to be sent. Frowning, she places the phone down on her desk as she goes about browsing social media profiles of her classmates and the stars she’s supposedly schmoozed with, checking to see if there are any new updates. About thirty minutes pass when Alya finally responds, and Lila can’t help but roll her eyes at what might have possibly kept Alya for so long.

A: heyyy, i think it’s great u want to get along w Mari, but i think it’s better 2 give her some space after 2day. but if it’s an emergency, i can ask her 4 u!

Squinting her eyes, she gives the text a long, hard glance before realizing that it’s real. It has to be some sort of joke. There’s no real reason Alya should be hesitant in giving her something like this. 

L: I was worried about this. Marinette must really hate me if she doesn’t even want to give me her number!

A satisfied smirk spreads across her face as she waits for the inevitable anxious reply. Surely, Alya wouldn’t want her new friend to feel so left out and targeted, right? Once again, the texting animation is quickly evident, and she can practically hear Alya apologizing for making her feel so bad about it. 

A: i swear it’s not like that!!! just give her some time & she’ll warm up, i swear!! so how about those outfits!?

Scowling, she quickly responds with a half-hearted “never mind, I’ll ask Clara’s designer instead,” and tosses the phone across the room onto her bed with a sigh. Perhaps it’s just a fluke, and maybe tomorrow, when Lila comes face to face with Alya, she can corner her into giving up Marinette’s number. It’s not something she should be this worried about anyway, but if she’s going to forge fake messages, she needs to make it look like they had contact with each other.

For now, that idea is on hold. Still, there’s plenty of ways to shake things up the next morning.

---

While having a position of power made you respected, it also made you stress out over every other little thing, and put you in a position of criticism. Thankfully, Lila doesn’t have to contend with the responsibilities of Class Rep, and can instead content herself to push Marinette’s buttons instead.

“...And the class vs class picnic will be happening next Friday,” she says, finishing the morning announcements, “Please make sure to bring athletic attire to change into, because we will  be getting messy. Does anyone have any questions?”

Oh boy, does Lila ever. She meekly raises her hand, making sure at least one or two other classmates note the wary expression on her face. Biting back a sigh, Marinette points to her and asks, “Yes?”

“Um, well, I’m not sure I can handle anything outdoorsy,” she pouts, holding out her hand, “My wrist is busted and I can’t really throw anything.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that,” Mylene interrupts, smiling cheerfully, “We made sure to include some non-athletic activities, like making friendship bracelets and writing nature haikus! If you don’t want to use pen and paper, you should be able to bring your tablet!”

With her lips curling inward, Lila has to bite back a dark glare. Something was definitely up. She’s not sure what, but Marinette must have told them something about the previous day. It’s difficult to tell because Marinette doesn’t have a very distinctive expression, but Lila would be a fool to believe otherwise.

And she would certainly not be that.

“That’s very nice of you to think of me,” she says, trying to bite back tears, “But, um, I don’t even know if I’ll be able to go that day, anyway. I’m supposed to be volunteering at a charity event to help reduce carbon emissions. Is it possible that we could have the picnic a day earlier? Or the next week?”

Some glances are exchanged in the rows before conversation breaks out. As she expects, Marinette’s face contorts with annoyance, and she opens her mouth to say something, but she’s cut off by Alya, who places a hand on her shoulder, and shakes her head. Turning to Lila, she says, “Actually, me and Mari spent a lot of time organizing this event with the other student reps, and it wouldn’t be fair to suddenly reschedule like that. But I assure you that we have some other events in the future that we’ll be more easily able to take your schedule into account, just as long as you tell us ahead of time, Lila.”

“Oh,” she pouts, blinking as rapidly as she can. “That’s too bad. I was really looking forward to going too…” she says with a sigh.

“Well,” Mylene offers, “We can always throw you a picnic another day. That way, Marinette and the other student reps don’t have to worry about all that rescheduling, and you can still have fun hanging out with us. Right, guys?”

The chattering, the annoying, annoying chattering grows more excited, as if they already have it planned in stone. As though they no longer have to give Lila anymore thought or concern. Of course, she’d have to be gracious and just accept it, right?

There’s still no sign from Marinette that she’s in on it, or that she’s satisfied with the turn out. For someone who hates lying so much, she must be pretty good at it. There’s no way she’s innocent.

Still, Lila has no choice but to playfully bat her eyes and practically coo at the suggestion. “You’re all just so wonderful! I would love that, of course!”

A pen snaps in her hands, and the ink covers the knee of her leggings. But her forced smile doesn’t falter for a second, lest she want to draw unwanted attention.

---

Marinette is naive to leave her backpack by itself, without a single eye to watch it. It seems that Chloe failed at her job at instilling fear in the school, if Marinette was going around carefree without any sort of protection. But that leaves Lila free to sneak into her bag and plant the answers for the test that they finished taking-

A sudden, squeakish voice interrupts, causing her to drop the paper.

“There you are, Lila!” Rose says cheerfully, “What are you doing?”

Jumping, it takes her a moment to realize she’s dropped the paper. She unfortunately can’t see where it landed, and she finds herself sputtering, sputtering, her response, “O-Oh, Rose! I-I was just… I found Marinette’s backpack!”

“Oh, she was looking for that!” Rose says, picking it up and hugging it to her chest, “That’s awfully nice of you, Lila! Marinette was looking for that.”

“It’s not a big deal! I just wanted to help out a friend, you know?”

“You really are a sweetheart, you know?” Rose says, patting her shoulder, “Still, I think we’re better off just telling Marinette it was in the lost or found.”

She blinks. “What? Why?” 

“Well, we don’t want to give Marinette the wrong idea,” Rose points out, “You might be trying to help her, but knowing her, she’ll probably think you tampered with her stuff.”

“I can’t believe she thinks so little of me,” Lila sniffs, “I’m only trying to help.”

“Oh, we know,” Rose says, patting her shoulder, “And someday she’ll be able to see that. But I think she’s really coming around. Just a little more time and she’ll see just how cool you really are!”

As they leave the area, Lila waits for a moment to sneak back into the backpack, but the opportunity never presents itself. Soon enough, Marinette is reunited with her backpack, and Lila knows from her narrowed leer, she’s bound to search through the bag to make sure it wasn’t tampered with.

--

There is no doubt in her mind that this is deliberate sabotage. Marinette said something to get these goons to follow her around and interrupt at the most opportune and least convenient moments. Plan after plan, ruined because they “don’t want Marinette getting the wrong impression of her!” 

Well, with any luck, that was going to stop today.

She is quick to follow Marinette into the bathroom and pin her against the walls.

“So, you think you’re so smart, huh? Getting your friends to keep an eye on me and keep you out of trouble?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Stop lying!” Lila shouts, “Playing stupid isn’t your forte! I know you said something about me to them to ruin my plans! Well, guess what? I have plenty of methods that’ll get you expelled.”

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing, Lila?” Alya’s booming voice calls out, holding a phone in front of her. Behind her are Alix, Mylene, Rose and Juleka, who all share darkened expressions and are ready to voice their distaste. She has to think of something quick if she’s going to recover and get control of the situation again.

“A-Alya,” she stammers, trying to force a smile, “M-Marinette was just, um, she was bullying me! Can you believe it?”

“No, I can’t,” Alya retorts, “Because I just captured footage for the past few minutes of you attacking Marinette in the bathroom and threatening to get her expelled! And after everything we did for you, trying to help you get along with her, especially at Adrien’s suggestion!” She clicks her tongue. 

Blinking, she looks from Marinette back to Alya. Adrien? Adrien was the one to calculate this plan? She supposed it would make some degree of sense - Adrien was hardly the type to get his hands dirty when he had assistants and money to do that for him. Still, there was no way the boy with the least amount of backbone in the entire school would go out of his way to sabotage her, especially not for Marinette.

“You’re a liar,” Lila hisses, before trying to smile again, “Adrien would never suggest something so diabolical.”

“Since when was trying to help people get along diabolical?” Alix points out, “If anyone is headed toward the realm of villainy and bullying, it’s you. Anything else you want to confess to?”

And for once, Lila’s out of stories to spin.

[mlpdestinyverse]

“One November Eve”

One stormy eve, when Dream Flow mysteriously doesn't show for their meet up, Skychaser heads to his friend's home to find out what's keeping her. What he discovers isn't quite what he expected.

Feat. Skychaser, Dreamaria Flow

Related Chapters: Little Monster, Newcomer, Impasse

~Destinyverse Archive~

Skychaser isn't usually one to fuss when it comes to Dream Flow's occasional tendency to arrive late to their hangouts.

He's long accepted it as an on-and-off habit of hers, oversleeping or losing track of time. It's not like they've ever been in a rush, so it's never truly bothered him. Besides, it's easy to imagine her getting caught up in a busy, tiring schedule as an Emotion Counselor.

The latest he can remember her ever arriving was about thirty minutes past their designated time, and even then she came to him apologizing profusely before insisting on treating him to make up for the tardiness. He can tell that she's since made a more conscious effort to be more punctual, despite his assurance that he really doesn't mind.

An hour and twenty-two minutes late...now that's just plain out of character.

It's nearing 6 PM now, and it won't be long before they'll have to officially reschedule their sauna day for another time. Sky is still sitting at a cafe table, tapping his hoof against the wooden surface, the vibrations causing his long empty cup of mint chocolate chip ice cream to shake. 

He'd been looking forward to relaxing within the embrace of hot steam on a chilly autumn day. More so than that was his eagerness to behold Dream's first heavenly sauna experience, as a mare who apparently had never even known of their existence until a week ago. She had mirrored his excitement, giving him a date where she'd be completely free. But that's all quickly becoming rather trivial compared to his growing bewilderment.

'Did she go on a last-minute errand run?? What is going on?'

It's only when a large droplet of rain nearly jabs his eye that he knows that the fall thunderstorm Ponyville ordered for the sake of building atmosphere towards Nightmare Night has begun. And it's at that moment that Sky knows he has a time limit before the rain starts pouring. So with a frown, he swiftly makes his way to a new location...

By the time he's in front of the door to Dream's house, the boughs of leafless trees have begun groaning and Sky's thick mane might as well be mauling his face, thanks to the whipping winds. Honestly, if it wasn't for the sheer absurdity that was the concept of being "stood up" by Dream of all ponies, he would have thought to arrive sooner to check on his friend. But looking at the house, the windows are completely absent of any light, and that becomes even more prominent with the darkening grey sky above him as the sun dips away and the clouds prepare to-

-drench him. Just...all at once. A waterfall-like sheet of rain crashes onto him, and he hisses a curse as he instinctively tries for the doorknob, despite knowing it won't open.

Except it does, and Skychaser has to blink a few times at that.

'Guess she went out and...forgot to lock it behind her...?'

A flash of lightning and Sky all but scrambles inside and shuts the door before the accompanying boom of thunder can deafen him.

As he enters the threshold, and his eyes adjust to the brief lightning flash followed by the interior darkness, he almost swears a separate faint light catches the edge of his vision. But it's gone before he can fully acknowledge it, and it leaves his mind as soon as he winces at the booming thunderclap.

"Hokay then..." Sky mutters. He shrugs off his hoodie and hangs it on the nearby coat rack. Having visited Dream's house numerous times before, finding and flicking on the closest light switch isn't too difficult. The warm lighting reveals the large, decently furnished living room he's grown quite accustomed to, as a place to spend time with his friend as well as a safe space for a few of their counseling sessions together: television and couch set up to the left, first-floor bathroom to the right, her open kitchen towards the very back, next to the polished curving staircase... "Wait for Dreamers it is..."

At least, he hopes Dream isn't still trying to make it to their sauna day. Once she realizes he's not at their meeting spot, she'll either look for him at the Cutie Mark Sanctuary if only to frantically apologize like the sweet doof she is, or she'll make the better call and head back home in this weather.

Unless she's forgotten their plans entirely. Then well...at the very least, she'll absolutely return straight home and they'll figure it out from there.

'Unless...an emergency...?'

Sky vigorously shakes the worrisome thought out of his head, only to flinch and curse again when water droplets fly everywhere and cling to the nearby wall. This isn't the time to go into Anxious-Brother-Mode™ when he should be hunting down a towel unless he wants to create a puddle in the middle of Dream's living roo- oh, a puddle's already forming, goddammit.

He carefully maneuvers himself towards Dream's towel closet on the right-most wall, right beside her bathroom door. But he sighs and gives up midway on tip-toeing when he realizes he's leaving a trail of rainwater anyway, making a faster beeline for it. Without pause he yanks it open and pulls out a fluffy towel with cute little sea motifs, aggressively drying his cursed sponge-like mop of hair; the true perpetrator of the puddles...a symbol of freedom and majesty now fallen from grace. For shame.

He sighs with relief once he feels sufficiently...less wet, albeit his feathers are sticking in almost every direction and his inner pegasus shrieks at him to preen- which, speaking of, is it weird to preen in your friend's house when they're not there?

Shower Thoughts with Skychaser.

Sky lets the towel hang around his neck and grins to himself over his dumb mental joke- but upon closing the closet door fully, something he hadn't noticed before immediately greets him.

A single orange sticky note, attached to the door at eye level.

He's genuinely confused at first, but once his eyes flit over the words written on it in black marker, he near-instantly recalls the counseling session he'd shared with Dream not even a month ago. In this very living room, funnily enough:

"Sticky Note Affirmations" she had called it, suggesting it to him like many other forms of therapy they've given a go through the course of their friendship. He remembers her explaining it as a method of using positive affirmations in one's daily life, to "move the mind away from persistent negative thoughts" and "set in a more positive way of thinking".

"Positivity takes practice!" he can practically still hear the confidence in Dreamaria's voice from that day, her beaming face forming in his mind. "We may be our own worst critic, Sky, but we're also the one person in life who can be our most faithful supporter. So try cheering your future self on!"

It sounded a little silly at first, the idea of sticking notes around his room and expecting them to do anything. Dream Flow did say the results varied for everyone.

Now, Sky has a small collection of post-it notes that have given him just the slightest boost needed to help deviate that self-deprecating corner of his mind; more often than not, at least. Who knew that reading something as simple as "I Am Worthy" on his bedroom door every morning could make a difference in his outlook for the day? He sure didn't.

But maybe Dream being the source of the idea made her feel a little present within each of his notes, believing in him just as much as he was encouraging himself.

Dream specifically offered the idea of writing down kind compliments for himself. There were also reminders and encouragements for daily tasks, saved for the heavier days where such chores often felt impossible or pointless. Now one particular note near his comb encourages him to brush his mane each day because otherwise, he'll deal with knots that resemble a pile of tangled earbud cords - or worst...Astral Dusk's spikes - and risk shaving it all off in frustration (Monochrome would have a field day).

Anyway, that aside, the note on Dream's towel closet reminds him of that sort of encouragement:

"Because a hot shower organizes thoughts and helps warm the soul!" it motivates, in curvy writing that he definitely recognizes as Dream's.

It shouldn't be a surprise that Dreamaria would practice her own suggestions, maybe to test the effectiveness for herself; but at the same time, how effective could testing it be? In his friend's case it felt hilariously redundant, like a mere flashlight's beam merging in with an already blinding sunray of optimism. Or...something. He's not as poetic with words and comparisons as Eventide.

Point is, the living embodiment of positivity just setting up more positive inspiration for her "future self" is incredibly funny to him and wholesomely endearing.

Skychaser backs his way into the middle of her living room, bumping up near Dream's couch there, and gives the room a good squint - and to his delight, his eye catches the pastel colors of more sticky notes dotting the mare's kitchen.

Well, at least he has something to distract himself with while he waits on Dream Flow. And if there's anypony he'd love to read some encouraging wisdom from, it'd have to be the counselor herself.

So he starts at one end and slowly saunters through her kitchen space, from one note to the next, feeling his grin and amusement growing with each one.

"Because an uncluttered sink helps with an uncluttered mind!" a pink note above her sink declares, where a few glasses and plates have been left to sit.

"Use me! Because you've come so far as a cook, and I exist for a reason!" the green note on her spotless stovetop-oven all but shouts.

"Because your body deserves nourishment, and Uncle wants you to eat well. Don't forget to keep a full fridge!" one blue sticky note insists on her refrigerator. Skychaser slyly opens the freezer door to better gauge the sorts of things his friend prefers to indulge in, for the noble cause of future birthday bashes (he genuinely half expects a compartment full of ice cream). His eyebrows fly up when he sees it's empty besides a tray of ice cubes.

'She REALLY must have gone out for some serious grocery shopping, geez...'

Now that he thinks about it, it's curious, really. Because while Dream's session on the notes had been held a month ago, Skychaser had visited just a week before and he's certain these little reminders hadn't been present that day. But the folded corners and slight creases on the notes suggest that they aren't recent either...?

Huh. Weird.

Sky hears the rain audibly thrum harder on the roof. He glances at the door, then at the time on her microwave.

6:42. Still no Dreamaria.

Hooves clacking across the tiles, Skychaser turns to leave the kitchen. In an effort to set aside his uncertainty, he considers what distractions he could find on Dream's T.V. That is until he finds himself pausing by the kitchen island.

Skychaser now notices that amongst a clutter of unopened mail envelopes, a single letter has been left out. Were it not for the rather official-looking white and blue mailer with a broken gold wax seal, or the fancy thick yellow parchment of the letter itself, Skychaser would have overlooked it.

He fights with himself, eyes flicking back and forth between the rest of the living room and the strange letter just...laying there.

...his need for answers wins over. Because surely a small glimpse and the quickest skim just to understand the subject of such an out-of-place letter couldn't hurt. It just may be the very clue he's been seeking as to the whereabouts of his friend.

'An emergency', his mind supplies nervously again, the feeling intensifying when he picks out on the envelope's face that the mailing address is from Reinsford; Dreamaria's hometown.

'Yeah, that's not comforting...'

So sure enough, he sets his now-folded towel onto the counter and leans over the parchment, giving the sentences a quick once-over. He searches for names, keywords, the last line of the letter-

He stops.

He reads the last line again. Then a third time, his eyes widening with each reread.

'Hold the fuck on, am I-?'

Sky swoops the letter up into his wings. He squints harder, darting his orange irises back to the beginning. Because maybe context would confirm whether he's crazy or he just read what he thinks he just read.

"Dear Madam Dreamaria Flow,

I hope this package and its contents have found you in good health. 

It has been a lengthy two years since your departure from our beloved coasts. Your absence has been profoundly felt by your fellow residents and myself, even to this very day.

While I would not dare to take up more of your time than necessary, I first wish to extend my deepest apologies for not reaching out to you sooner. Your uncle has shared a tale or two of your exploits in Ponyville, and though I am sure you have found success and a great sense of fulfillment in your new career - a hearty congratulations to you, may I add! - I have felt that a hefty debt was left unpaid the day you left this town.

It is only right that I follow through on my word. It took some time, but after vowing to properly reward you for your unforgettable deed, I am happy to announce that I have made great use of my authority to finally deliver:"

Halfway through the letter, the storm outside gives another bright flash of lightning, followed seconds later by a booming crack of thunder that almost shakes the air. A barely present corner of his mind registers something...slightly different about it; like a subtle sparking undercurrent of sound had joined in for just a second. But right now he's focused on this letter, too immersed in speed-reading the sentences to consider it as anything but a one-off:

"Enclosed is your very own Reinsford-sanctioned Certification of Arcane Excellence. Please do brandish this certificate with pride as a prior member of Reinsford's community. I believe such high credentials could prove useful and bode well if presented and proven to Princess Twilight Sparkle herself.

While losing someone as gifted and valuable as yourself thoroughly saddens us, we are quite pleased knowing our talented Dreamaria is still putting her skills to good use.

Remember that this town will always be your home. It has been far too long since we have last seen you. Never hesitate to visit, and if anything goes wrong, know that we will gladly welcome you back with open arms."

And then finally, he reaches that line again. Except he isn't sure if context has at all changed the amount of bewilderment and awe his discovery has brought him.

"Nonetheless, Reinsford will continue to miss its - official, as of this letter - dear Wizard, and its citizens whole-heartedly wish you well with your personal endeavors.

With gratitude, Mayor Bight"

A thunderclap of merciless lightning shatters the sky, and in that very instant, darkness falls around him.

The blackout startles Skychaser enough that he drops the letter and braces against the kitchen island with a soft yelp. He's thankful that the nearby streetlamp is managing to stream in just enough light through the windows to allow him the vaguest visual of his surroundings; shapes and desaturated colors and shadows, more than anything.

But now there is an eerie, deafening silence, with the background whirring of every appliance coming to a complete hush. The rain, the slightest shifts of his body, and his breath are suddenly much louder, almost reverberating through the room.

Whatever sense of confusion and wonder over Dream's letter has momentarily fizzled out, replaced by goosebumps and an immense sense of vulnerability. He feels small and uneasy - a single breathing body in an expanse of black and greys.

'Maybe I've uh...outstayed my welcome... If preening in your friend's empty house is weird, standing around for them in the darkness of their home may deserve a restraining order.'

He'll just have to table his questions and intrigue for another day, as exasperating as it is to have even fewer answers now than before.

For the sake of his boggled mind, he settles that Dream is out shopping. Or doing awesome-secret-wizard-shit, if this letter and her disappearance aren't just some strange, elaborate prank Dreamaria has set up just for him. Unlikely, yeah, but he's also learned that Dream Flow is pretty up there in terms of surprise factor.

Maybe he'll see enough faces on his way back to the Sanctuary to ask around about his friend. But before that, if he wants to even make that journey, he decides that a borrowed umbrella might be a good idea right about now. Or ooh, a cute, tiny raincoat he can drape over his head as he elegantly races through the streets before ducking underneath an awning and meeting his soulmate? Surely Dream had one or the other around somewhere.

The attempt to lighten his own mood somewhat works as he's able to blindly locate her letter, replace it on the counter, and urge himself forward through the low lit room. The air has been quick to drop temperature without its heating unit, only adding to the strangely oppressive atmosphere.

Thankfully the street light bounces off of the far wall - the one he had previously borrowed his towel from - preventing him from running face-first into it. If he's remembering right, and he traces the wall towards those curving stairs in the back corner...

The wall stops short. Tucked into the large alcove that follows, he finds his sought-after mystery door right near the foot of the stairs.

While aware of its existence, he admittedly has never seen the room's interior nor ever had a reason to check it out. He's only ever assumed it to be some sort of coat closet, so naturally, any form of raincoat or umbrella would surely be stored within. Most likely??

But as he steps up to the door, all too ready to prepare for his leave, he yet again is brought to a halt. He makes out a familiar small square shape in this shadowed corner of the house, attached to the door a little higher than the usual eye level.

'Oh. Even here?'

He almost chooses to ignore the sticky note with his priorities at hoof. But something about it draws his eye - and he realizes that, even in this lighting, he can faintly make out words. It's due to the writing itself, displaying neat and meticulous letters, as opposed to the other affirmations that were more hastily scrawled.

'"Because"..."you"...?'

Sky has to lean in until the bridge of his scrunched muzzle is just inches away from the note. His eyes have adjusted to the dark, so he's able to read the bleeding inky words:

"Because you'll prove them wrong."

.....

Skychaser allows himself a moment to give the note a good, long stare.

Maybe it's due to his current circumstances: the storm, the week of Nightmare Night, Dream's absence, standing alone inside a dark, deathly still building on a cold November eve. But the sharp change in tone from Dreamaria's previous notes definitely forces Sky to acknowledge just how unsettled he feels.

One step back and he's boring his visible eye into the closet door before him. That eye then falls to its silver door handle.

...this....is a closet that he just found that note on. Right?

Sky very quietly, very weakly laughs to himself. He moves to turn the handle before he can overthink it.

'Maybe this is where Dream keeps all the dead bodies.' he jests, pushing the door open a sliver.

It creaks under his hesitant grasp. With that crack, Sky notices a light source within, out of sight, in a room bigger than he honestly pictured; faint. Orange. ...pulsating?

BANG!

Sky releases an indecipherable shout right as the door in his grasp SLAMS back in place in one explosive movement. He stumbles backward but he doesn't get far, because in a whirlwind there are glowing blue lights flying around him in literal ribbons, erupting from the floor, grabbing him, coiling around him so rapidly that he doesn't get a chance to even unfurl his wings as he rears up, because now they're being tied to his back and his forelegs are bound up securely against his chest-

He's lifted, hoisted right off the ground and jostled about in the process of being turned. At this point he's stopped thrashing and has kept his eyes squeezed shut and his teeth painfully clenched. Upon the movements stopping, he cracks his eyes open to look down at himself.

Instead, his irises flash to his lower left, where the end of one ethereal ribbon is gradually creeping around his neck without actual contact: a silent threat. He can't control the pitifully strangled noise he lets out, desperately leaning his head as far away as possible, which isn't far at all.

'What the fuck, what the FUCK, I WAS FUCKING JOKING-'

He would be breaking down into hysterical laughter right about now if he wasn't so shaken. The only reason he hasn't entered a full-blown panic is that the ribbons have completely ceased their motions, and while tight, it's not enough to restrict his breathing. He's fine. He's okay.

Look at him. Those positive thinking exercises have been working...haha. ...coping with humor at a time like this probably isn't the healthiest, though, even if it's working to keep his sanity intact.

Maybe it's not fully hitting him. It all feels too unreal, like some realistic fever dream-

Violently swishing fabric rolls through his ears next, too pitched and harsh to be born from his imagination. Skychaser jolts, because in a single blink, the safe beams of the streetlight filtering in from each of the house's windows have been cruelly snuffed out. The curtains have all been pulled shut in one sweep. He's been left in true, absolute pitch darkness.  

And then he sees it.

A set of white, glowing pinpricks of light, waiting in the shadows straight ahead.

Staring right back.

Watching him. Sky registers that this is real.

Body and throat seized up in terror, he doesn't even scream. He can't find his voice, only listening to his own labored breathing while those two glows eerily sway and grow closer. He catches the sound of slow, careful steps. Hoofclacks.

As his mind processes, the glowing orbs stop just outside of the light from his radiant restraints.

And they speak.

"...state your business."

The voice is low. Soft and husky, yet it carries in the quiet amongst a backdrop of rain. It's formal, frigid, and completely foreign to him.

Skychaser shivers.

"I-I..." he struggles out, his own voice hoarse but miraculously coherent despite his scrambled brain. "I was...l-looking-"

He snaps his mouth close when he hears a sharp inhale in front of him. It's followed by a much gentler, far more familiar tone.

"...Skychaser?"

Sky's eyes bug open, only for him to cringe away when a flash of light nearly blinds him. He blinks against it anyway, urging his pupils to focus in on-

Dream Flow.

The tip of her horn is illuminated with a small beacon of magical light - a beacon that closely resembles whatever the hell she's done to her pupils, filled at the centers with the very pinpricks of white that had shaken him previously.

The unicorn looks thoroughly dumbfounded. Wide-eyed, mouth open, head pulled back. When she seemingly confirms his identity for herself, her eyebrows knot even further.

"...you're...my intruder?" she slowly sounds out. "How did you...why are you here?"

Sky's remaining brain cell has long fizzled out by now, so he sputters at first before he exclaims back;

"Me?? I came here looking for you! You didn't show for our sauna meet! Where in Equestria have you been?!"

Cogs seem to turn in his friend's head for a few seconds before realization settles in.

"Oh." She murmurs, blinking owlishly at him. "That...yes. You're right. I...oh..."

More beats of silence pass. Sky shifts uncomfortably in the ribbons' grasp. Before he can even ask, the motion has Dream breaking out of her stupor. As if just realizing the state he's in, dismay flickers across her face. And yet she lets out a laugh, one he can only describe as stressed in this context.

"Oh Celestia, what a horrible...horrible misunderstanding!"

With a blue spark of her horn, Skychaser watches as the magical ribbons begin to shimmer and dissolve away, gently lowering him down as they do. He turns his head about at the rather pretty display, with sparkles left behind in the spell's wake before those dissolve in thin air too. Skychaser doesn't get to admire for long as he clumsily has to catch himself with his front hooves those final few inches to the floor.

He shoots her a perplexed look, but he doesn't think she sees it, because she's too busy aiming a secondary laugh at the floor. In his gut, he has the distinct impression that she doesn't actually find this humorous. Not with the way her shoulders have gone rigid.

"I am...so terribly sorry, Skychaser. I genuinely thought someone had broken into my house and...well, I was prepared for a confrontation!"

"I noticed!" he wheezes out, half-exasperated, half-jokingly. "You also look ready to shoot lasers out of your eyes, and I nearly peed myself because of it."  

Dream winces, then squeezes her eyes and sets her horn sparking blue again. When she reopens them - thank God - her actual pupils have returned. The spectrum of colors in them are discernable again too - downcast, he discovers that the azure in her irises appears more pronounced. Or maybe it's the low lighting.

"They say intimidation leaves an impression," she quips, the corner of her mouth barely quirking up. She's still not looking at him. "Guess it worked, huh?"

Sky mouth pulls down into a deep frown, his gaze roaming over his friend. Dream's blue mane is unusually unkempt from what he's used to. The mare's form hasn't even moved an inch from its tight, almost closed off stance in the past minute or two - a significant contrast to the conversational cadence of her voice.  

He doesn't think he's ever seen Dream so...physically withdrawn before. In a way, it was understandable in the aftermath of what's looking more and more like one very awkward, very startling mix-up. But it's also not like she hurt him.

"Hey, Dreamers, it's okay. You freaked me out, sure, but I'm WAY more relieved to see you. I was starting to think something serious happened."

Shortly afterward, Dream finally meets his eye, but only to offer a sad smile.

"I apologize for that! It seems I just..."

"Overslept?" Sky grins humorously, only to pause when Dream's expression dips into guilty. "Wait what?"

"I'd only meant to close my eyes for an hour or two at most-" she confesses, glancing up towards her stairs. "-and take a short rest before meeting up. But the murky weather must have lulled me." A chuckle bubbles out of her and she shakes her head. "I think my sleepy haze made me forget everything else once a 'threat' entered the picture. But that's no excuse. I won't let something this careless happen again, I promise."

Sky rubs his forehead. Not because he has a headache, but because the small puzzle pieces he now possesses are struggling to mash together. "So...you were actually upstairs? This whole time?"

Dream nods. "Yes, I woke up when..." Her eyes trail over towards the front door.

She goes quiet. Almost as soon as that answer fades out, another question begins. "....Sky, how did you get in anyway?"

"Your door was unlocked...?" he provides, letting the question in his tone voice his own confusion. "Which I thought was weird."

Dream answers with a short, disbelieving laugh. "Oh wowy! Seems I didn't lock it behind me when I got the mail today..." she breathes out a sigh. "I'm glad you got out of the storm, but I'll need to be more mindful."

Mail.

An opening presents itself to him. A way to find answers and ease tension, he hopes, as his buried intrigue and curiosity rises from the depths.

"Hey, don't sweat it! But I gotta say...that was a preeetty cool trick you did back there," A knowing grin spreads across his face, and he leans his head forward with a conspirational whisper. "Miss Wizard~"

Dreamaria doesn't respond right away. It takes her one steady beat before she slowly turns her head back towards him.

A blank stare greets him.

"...what?"

"You're a Wizard, Dreamy!" he chirps, bouncing between his hooves. "Congratulations! Even I couldn't believe it when I spotted your letter, but all that fancy-shmancy magic you did sure confirms it." He taps his hoof to his chin, humming playfully. "It sounds like you've had a bunch of snazzy spells up your sleeve for a while! Why'd you never-"

He's so lost in his giddy mental world of excitement and thrill that he almost misses the way Dream stiffens. Almost.

Because her smiles are gone now.

"You...read my letter."

It's less of a question and more a statement she's allowing to sink in. Caught off guard by her abrupt monotonous tone, he finds himself self-conscious in his reply.

"Yeah it was...lying on the counter, and I thought it could be a...clue...but um..."

With each word, Sky begins to recognize the breach of privacy he had committed and how weak of an excuse he really had to snoop on a clearly personal letter. Even if it felt justified at the time. It's his turn to wince guiltily. "Yeah no that...sounds pretty bad actually."

Dream doesn't react, gazing back vacantly in a way she's never done before. It makes him retract a hoof, an uncomfortable knot forming in his stomach. "...Dream?"

She inhales, almost painstakingly slow and deep. The breath is held for a few seconds longer.

Then, after an exhale that's just as prolonged, the smallest smile ghosts across her muzzle.

"I see. You were worried and it just kind of happened. Right? I'm the one who left it out and created this whole mess. So really, it's my own fault."

What? Sky insistently shakes his head. "No way, it's your house. I should've held off...I'm sorry."

Dream reaches out to touch his shoulder, smiling sweetly. "Apology accepted! What's done is done, eh~?"

Uncertainty lingers despite himself; to think he managed to elicit that response, out of Dream, which made it undeniably that much more nervewracking. Regardless, Skychaser wills himself to relax.

How Dream can consistently be that quick to forgive will remain out of his realm of understanding. Good thing, too...he didn't think he could handle impairing one of his most cherished friendships all because of his own ever-present idiocy.

"...can I ask...??"

Sky's a little dubious on where to put his footing down from here, but he trusts Dream enough to be forthright with him about where her lines lie. Thankfully the corners of the mare's eyes crinkle back cordially.

"Yes, Sky?" she invites.

"...does that mean you're like that one guy?" He leans back in, side-mumbling to her. "Star Whirl the Bearded or whatever-"

Dream laughs, loud and hearty. "OH, heavens no! Starswirl was an arcane prodigy. I'm nothing like that." Dream Flow turns away from Sky to walk towards her front door. Curious, Skychaser follows after her. "In fact, despite what that letter claims, I'm not a Wizard."

"What?" Sky laughs out, shooting the back of her head a doubtful raise of his brow. "But they gave you-"

She smiles back at him over her shoulder, serenely closing her eyes and shaking her head.

"I'm not a Wizard. Being a Wizard suggests that I'm some grand expert who plays with different fields of magic for a living! I'm just an Emotion Counselor who happens to have some extra prior study on the side." For some reason she begins to glide an absentminded hoof against the carved wood of the doorframe. "Reinsford legally naming me their pet Wizard doesn't change that."

...pet? "Now excuse me for a second!" Dream says, aiming her horn towards the entrance. "I really need to reset this before the mental buzzing gives me a headache."

Her horn illuminates - an odd mismatch of bright blue with tinges of her magic's usual orange - and Skychaser gapes as the unassuming decorative markings carved into the door's wooden frame begin to light up brightly, one by one, until it's covered with these glowing elaborate lines and shapes completely unfamiliar to the pegasus. Dream turns back to him, coaxing him with a nudge of her head towards the display.

"If you don't mind, Skychaser, could you please touch one of these runes? If I add in your magic signature, we won't have to worry about another silly mishap."

Sky has literally no idea what any of that means. But Dream looks composed and attentive, so he follows her instructions. This "rune" he touches brightens, casting a warm halo of white light around his hoof. Then it all fades away, dimming the room back to just Dreamaria's light spell.

He glimpses at the unicorn and takes in the unexpectedly soft way she's looking at him.

"...thank you for trusting me." She expresses with warmth, placing a hoof over her chest in some form of relief.

"I mean yeah, always, but that was...?"

Dream perks up. There's a playfulness to her demeanor as she casually shrugs.

"A magical alarm. Just in casies. You activated my runes when you walked in," she giggles. "That's what alerted me and woke me up! But now that I've included you into the formula, you're my trusted exception. No more false alarms if something like this manages to happen again."

Okay. Sky's mind is officially boggled.

"Wait, so you're over here trying to convince me that you're NOT a Wizard-" He gestures incredulously at the door. "But you can do crazy shit like that?!"

Her ears twitch back, enough to catch his attention. Just like that, she's back to averting her gaze.

"Ah...this isn't as complicated as it looks, actually!" Dream defends cheerfully, strain returning to the smile she's wearing. "The initial set up was more tedious if anything. But I appreciate the compliment!"

With that, she strides away from the front door and back into the house, presumably towards her kitchen. However, her attitude regarding the subject bugs him. It's not like he knows much about unicorn history and titles and whatnot, but still...

"I thought being called a Wizard would be like...the highest honor for a unicorn or something." He scratches his head, a little embarrassed over his own lack of knowledge. "So I guess I'm not getting why you're..."

"Being called a wizard is a compliment to a unicorn's abilities." Dream supplies for him, slowing her gait to a halt. She turns her head without facing him, choosing to speak into the air instead. "Being named a Wizard is different...just something silly they began labeling me one day." More jovial laughter shakes her shoulders. "It was a little much! So Ponyville became my home of choice."

Despite her light-hearted, almost whimsical tone, Sky's ability to read body language doesn't fail him. He sees tension retake her frame.

"So you don't want to be one." Sky notes with a frown, eyebrows pulled back. Hooves clacking against the hardwood floor, he stops just beside her to brush a soothing wing against her shoulder; something he realizes he's never had to do, because comfort has only ever been given the other way around. "Too much pressure?" He prompts quietly.

Dream Flow is staring off, a distant look on her face. There's a slight shift to her jaw.

"I...don't have time to..."

She's deep in thought. Contemplative. Choosing her words carefully as she lowers her head to one side.

"...humor their fantasy of me."

A tense silence follows, along with a creeping feeling of personal familiarity. Sky tries to work a response through his mind, but he doesn't get enough time to when Dream's gently pushing his wing away and beaming up at him. "But never mind that. This weather must be doing things to me. It's not like me to put a damper on the mood! I've never been the biggest fan of rain."

"It's not a damper..." Sky tries, because really, when has Dream ever opened up to him like this? It's never even crossed his mind that she even had things to open up about, as stupid as that was.

But it's clear to him that Dream's finished, with the way she holds up a hoof and how the curve of her lips eases. "I wouldn't want anypony getting the wrong idea about me here either, actually. So I hope we can keep this between us? No more ‘Dream the Magical Wizard'?"

Dream drops her pitch a few decimals just to exaggerate the title, and it's so out of the blue that it wins her a short laugh from him. "Of course." Sky answers without hesitation. If she's shared all she's willing to, enough to return to her usual self, he won't push it. That's how she's always been when it came to him, after all. "You're just 'Dreamers the Dork" to me."

A grin breaks across Dream's face at that. "I like that better, actually."

"Ooooh no, don't say that, or else I'll start greeting you like that. Everywhere we go."

Dream giggles and continues her trek to the kitchen with Sky in tow. He now sees that she's heading towards that little area directly beneath her stairway; a side room to her kitchen used for her laundry appliances.

...memory swears that the folding doors to this room were closed earlier.

"Okay, let's fix this..." she hums and steps into the crowded space, leaving Sky standing at the threshold. He never identified it until now, writing it off as some random metallic plate on the back wall, but Dream Flow snaps it open and reveals it to be a door to a breaker box.

Confused, he's about to stop what should've been a futile attempt at bringing back power, but just like that, Dream flicks the top-most switch and the house comes back to life around him. Light refills the room, the microwave lets out a beep of relief, and Sky meanwhile is whipping his head back and forth between the main room and Dream herself.

"Wait, I thought the storm took out the power, how did you??"

"Oh, no." Dream grins sheepishly, gesturing towards the circuit breaker behind her. "That was all me."

Oh, how the surprises never cease with her. When did she even get downstairs to pull this stunt on him?

Well, she could teleport. But even that made noise. How he never heard her even once is-

Oh. Thunder.

"This was...one elaborate plan, Dream."

"That's true. But when you've never lived alone before, you sort of...end up a little paranoid." Dream rubs her foreleg shyly. "I saw lights on downstairs, sensed someone I couldn't even see walking around, and had no clue what they wanted. Naturally I assumed a break-in, so I took the necessary precautions to keep safe and take action."

If Sky didn't feel bad earlier, he's certainly feeling it now.

"Damn...didn't mean to scare ya, sis."

"That goes for two of us..." Dream Flow sighs dramatically. "Causing fear in you...I'd never wish for that again."

"Hey, I'm just glad it wasn't anything paranormal!" Sky exclaims, backing up to let Dream join him in the actual kitchen. When she does, though, she turns her head towards her appliances.

"...oh. Well this is embarrassing." She says, looking straight at one of her sticky notes. "These were meant to be private, but wow does this explain why my 'intruder' was so entertained by my kitchen."

Skychaser snickers. "Hey, I for one appreciated your wise words. I think it's cute that you're messing around with affirmations yourself."

Speaking of...that reminds him.

"I was wondering, Dream," Sky motions his head back towards the very space their face-off had played out. "What's that room by the stairs? I thought it was a coat closet, but..."

He trails off, wondering if Dream will catch on.

"Oh, that? That's just my private study! I've stored a bunch of very personal memories from Reinsford in there." She smiles. "I take it you read my note. It's basically a little reminder for myself to keep moving forward."

Ah. Move on from a town of expectations? That made enough sense to him. And he sure was glad all of the wild threads tonight were finally ending with answers.

"And like everything else, I can only guess that creepy orange glow was you too?" he teases. "I only got a glimpse, but it definitely was a distraction before everything broke loose."

Dream doesn't say anything at first, as if waiting for him to continue or deliver some punch line. When he doesn't elaborate she gives him an inquiring eyebrow raise and a tilt of her head. "Wait, what glow?"

Sky stops. Just in case, he searches Dream's face, but she looks sincerely clueless.

"The...one inside the study?" He provides, hoping for any sign of recognition. "Something was glowing, but it was faint and I couldn't see anything."

Dream looks taken aback. Eyes darting sharply towards the door in question, she gives it one disbelieving look.

"'Glowing'...?" she whispers breathily, and the goosebumps that had long faded away are now returning to Skychaser's pelt. He blanches.

"Oh Gods it wasn't you..." Sky tugs at his hair and makes some sort of makeshift curtain to hide half of his face behind. "Oh Gods, what was that then?!"

Dream's multi-colored orbs snap back to him. "A-ah! Well-" her voice carries a slight tremor, one she catches and visibly swallows down (as if that'll hide how she's just as freaked out as he is, she's not fooling him). Then she laughs it off, giving him a playful grin. "It's probably not ghosts?"

"Probably?!"

"It's more likely some old runic project of mine! Responding to the electrical energy in the storm." She waves her hoof towards the ceiling. On cue, a rumble of thunder reaches them. "Elemental conversion and all!"

"Lady, I still don't get your magic talk, but if you say so..." He heaves out a breath. "Anything but ghosts...or dead bodies."

Dream gives him a quizzical look at that last comment, but apparently decides against asking. "Well hey! You know what'll lighten the mood?" Dream claps her hooves together, eyes glittering now. "The storm won't stop for another hour or two. So it's time for me to begin making it up to you, starting with a movie night! I still have popcorn in the cupboard and plenty of soda~"

Sky squints at her from behind his mane-wall.

"...'Dogs Don't Dance'?"

"A classic." Dream nods sagely.

"And you'll restock your dang empty freezer first thing?"

"Whoops...don't worry! I'll stop slacking and do that tomorrow~"

Skychaser carries himself to the DVD storage shelf her television sits on. It's thankfully on the literal opposite side of the room from Dream's private study, a place he's sure he'll now associate with tension and spooks after the events of the day. Keeping away is proobably for the best, especially right now. Because reassured or not, the pegasus doesn't think he'll be completely shaking off his jitters tonight. A scary movie would probably do him in at this point.  

Dream must be experiencing something similar, because after tapping the popcorn setting on her microwave, he sees her lean against the counter and restlessly gaze off towards that very door behind him. Warding off any surprise demons with her magic stare, he hopes.

But enough jokes. He leaves Dream to it, turning his full undivided attention on the vital task of sifting through DVD cases and finding his favorite comfort movie of jiving animated dogs. They both probably need it.

_________________________________________________________ This...this is a dense chapter and I'm kind of living.

I'm so curious to know what theories and thoughts people have drawn from it, so don’t be afraid to hyper-analyze. Nothing brings me greater joy... I recently fell in love with a few different writing styles and decided to play around with it myself here! I had a lot of fun with it, HEHEH. These probably constitute a whole separate lore upload, but for now, below will be a list of headcanons on Wizards in Destinyverse! For those interested!

-----------------------

Wizard/Sorcerer/Sorceress are all synonymous and are used based on preference. “Wizard” is the go-to gender-neutral term of the three.

The title of “Wizard” has altered throughout time. In pre-Equestrian days, when the Unicorns were all competing to understand magic and develop their power and prestige, the original Unicorn Royal Family were quick to employ the most powerful and innovative mages as advisors. These were the first Wizards - they were gifted high societal status and became the first nobles, whose wealthy descendants still live in the uppercrust of Canterlot to this day.

Thereafter, Wizardry became a profession that certified one’s expertise and allowed a unicorn to work alongside the most prestigious spellcasters and researchers (sometimes working for the crown, but not always). Aspiring Wizards then only earned their own title if they were lucky enough to have their talents acknowledged by the royal family  (in the special case of the mighty prodigy Starswirl himself), or by the authority of an existing Wizard (ie. the sorcerer Clover the Clever, first student of Starswirl the Bearded).

After the three pony tribes integrated into one society (and the Unicorn Royal Family abdicated for the reign of Celestia and Luna), unicorns stepped up in villages all across Equestria to offer magical consultation and arcane services to their fellow ponies. From time to time, an especially studied specialist with a wide range of knowledge would prove their skill or accomplish an incredible feat; thus began the practice of local governments certifying their very own Village Wizard for townsfolk to go to for any magical needs. Not all Village Wizards dedicated themselves to one singular town; in fact, it was considered an honor for a village’s Wizard to proudly represent their town and aid others across Equestria.

The decline of spellcrafting and spellcasting over the centuries has led to Wizards being few and far between. The desire to pass down arcane knowledge still exists, as seen with Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns; so these days, only those with a thirst for knowledge (or even rarer, the desire to pursue arcane advancement) study magic. Even fewer who graduate Celestia's school have gone on to become Wizards, either becoming professors at the princess' school or private tutors of upper-class Canterlot.

The modern Wizard is now defined as a certified practitioner of multiple fields of magic who is consulted for arcane services and/or researches for the sake of arcane advancement. Famous present day Wizards include!

Mage Meadowbrook and Mistmane (both once designated sorceresses of their respective villages). Meadowbrook was the very first non-unicorn to become a mage, and then named Sorceress for her potion-making and item-enchantments.

Starlight Glimmer (sorceress; professor at Twilight’s School of Friendship and occasional aid for Uni-Tech)

Sunset Shimmer (sorceress; royal scientist; founder of Uni-Tech who works for societal advancements in magitech)

Sunburst escapes the definition by a thin hair, due to not being an actual spellcaster or crafter. But he is a valuable magic advisor with his keen mind, and a proud member of Uni-Tech.

[aro-laurance-zvahl]

Reach For The Stars

Summary: Logan is a rich kid with walls as high as the stars, Roman is the kid next door whom Logan has a crush on. Or Logan hides on the roof, Roman joins him.

Ship: Logince

Words: 1,371

Warnings: A lil bit of miscommunication, implied homophobia, there's a kiss but it's not really described, tell me if there's anything else.

A/N: This was inspired by a prompt @yourhappypappypatton put into the world over a year ago! The prompt read "Logan is from a family where they have very specific and very high expectations. He’s worried to come out as gay, and to tell them he’d rather study the stars than politics." I hope you all enjoy!

Logan had two good things to say about the rich neighborhood he was born into. It wasn't the people, the endless halls in houses, or even the connections he could easily abuse if he so pleased. The first one was his neighbor, Roman. He was a true boy next door, charming, sweet, good looking, and the ability to make Logan furious and frustrated because his crush on him had grown too large. Of course, Logan hid this extremely well, he could give the aspiring actor a run for his money with how easily he could hide and display untrue emotions. Tonight was no different, Roman was invited with his parents to the prestige Sunday dinner party Logan's parents had thrown to talk politics or something close in nature. Which led to the second thing Logan loved about this neighborhood, the lack of light pollution.

Logan had excused himself earlier on in the dinner once the adults had all had one glass of wine and upped the talk on politics, and now he sat on the roof. He had been climbing onto the roof from his balcony for almost 4 years, marking the stars in one of the many notebooks he was supposed to keep for something his parents saw beneficial. Tonight, he was marking his birth sign, Gemini. His birthday was in a few days, he was finally turning 18. Logan had been waiting ever since he learned astronomy was his passion, he could tell them how every college he applied to had great astrology programs, maybe when he was moved into a dorm or whatever housing his parents decided he can tell them he's gay. Maybe.

His thoughts were interrupted when a voice boomed from somewhere, from his balcony, "Hey! What are you doing up there?!"

[[MORE]]

Logan's head snapped down so quickly his glasses almost flew off, for a moment his face went pale before he processed it was just Roman, though it was never just Roman. Logan slid his notebook behind him as he fixed his glasses with his other hand, "I was simply getting some fresh air, what were you doing in my room?"

"Well why do you need to be on the roof for fresh air?" Roman climbed up and sat down close by, his long blond hair was slicked back in a similar way to Logan's brown hair, but his white dress shirt and pants with a bright red tie made Logan feel like he was looking at his complete opposite.

"I asked you a question first,"

"I was looking for the only other guy my age, and your mom said you went to your room, so I went to your room, your turn," Roman smiled as bright as the stars was the thought Logan had to stop himself from thinking.

"I wanted to get away from the chatter, but I could hear it through my door," Logan scooted back so he was sitting on his notebook as a more effective hiding method.

"...Logan we're alone, you don't have hide yourself, cmon, let me see some of the real you," Roman reached over and put a hand on his arm in an almost comforting way.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," Logan slightly tensed under his touch, it was slightly new to him.

"I'm an actor, I can tell Logan. You're a great actor, you really should try out at the local theater with me, but acting is meant for the stage, not out in the real world,"

"...Falsehood. Anywhere where you're spectated and judged is a stage, the world is a stage for us, for me," Logan had the overwhelming need to talk about anything swelling in his chest.

"Well this isn't the world, this is our world. Are you really going to keep hiding yourself from it?" Roman leaned closer with every word, almost close enough to fog up Logan's glasses, "So tell me, who are you? Not who your parents are or the grades you get, who is Logan Berry?"

"I...I don't know," Logan felt his walls crumbling for this boy next door, but he didn't try to put them back up, he wanted them to fall.

"Then let's find out," Roman leaned back, giving back the space he had infringed upon, "What were you doing here?"

"I..was looking at stars, I've been doing it for a while now, it's something that brings me...joy? Is that odd?"

"No, no not at all, I want to get to know you Logan, would it help if I talked about myself some as well?"

"...That sounds like a good hypothesis to test,"

"Well, I love to act, draw, sing, write, I probably have way too many interests so I have no idea what I'll be going to college for, or even if I'll go after the gap year I'm taking,"

"...We're both confused aren't we?"

Roman laughs lightly, "I guess so, but in a way it's what brought us together, no?"

"Yes...I suppose it is," Logan relaxed and continued to try and be open for one of the first times in his life.

So, they spent the rest of the night talking, about whatever came up, Roman even got the privilege of seeing bits and bobs of Logan's notebook. Though when Roman brought up a crush, that's when Logan seemed almost too quiet, "...are you ok? Seem quiet,"

"Oh yes, I'm fine," Logan straightened his posture as he noticed himself slouching, "Continue,"

"...Well he's a great guy basically, bad timing for me though since it's summer and he's planning for college," Roman couldn't push the disinterest he saw from Logan away, "Is this making you uncomfortable? Are you against me being gay or something?"

"No! Not at all, there is nothing wrong with that,"

"That's not what I asked, I know there's nothing wrong with it," Roman crossed his arms, not happy with the sudden change of direction this conversation has gone.

"I am not against it, the talk of sexuality just makes me...uncomfortable for my own reasons,"

"Uncomfortable? What about it makes you uncomfortable?"

"I...that's a very personal question Roman," Logan started shifting nervously, why was he so nervous?

"We've been talking personal all night, what makes this so different?" Roman released his arms from their crossed position to do small jazz around the question to make it more dramatic.

"Because I'm gay and don't know what to do!" As soon as the words left his mouth Logan's eyes went wide and he covered his mouth, as if he was trying to swallow the words even after they came out.

Roman's entire expression softened in that instant, he opened his mouth to say something as his hands fell from their stiff position in the air. As no words came out, he bit his lip softly and reached a hand to the one covering Logan's mouth, slowly pulling it away and into his own. "Not knowing what to do is ok,"

"...but I want to know what to do," The words make out soft and quiet, like he was once again a small child trying to ask for something he knew his parents wouldn't want to give him.

"Do you want my suggestion?" Roman waited until he got a soft nod to continue speaking, "I think you should be yourself. Unapologetically, loudly, proudly. Because the real you, the real Logan Berry, is even more beautiful than all the stars in the sky,"

"...Can I can I suggest something for you to do?" Logan took Roman's other hand into his, holding them close to his chest with a look of hope in his eyes like Roman had shown him an entire new world.

"It's only fair," Roman's words came out in a single breath, completely star struck by how beautiful Logan looked in that moment.

"I think you should kiss me." Logan almost regretted the words, but they felt far too right to ever want to take back.

"That sounds exactly like what I should do," And so Roman did, he took his hands from Logan's to hold his face before closing the gap and kissing him.

In that moment, where they were pressed together under the stars, it truly felt like it was their world.

[defiant-firefly]

October Challenge Day 7

Aight so the prompt here is ‘Scream’ from the Cryptober prompt list by @tricksterdoodles and @diremirebee! It’s not an art thing I literally just used this prompt cause I had the idea and tried to match it to a prompt that wasn’t on the 31st so I could write it sooner.

Anyway, this one is probably more suited to a Whumptober entry honestly as I’ve been dubbing this the ‘I dump Labby in a blender ASMR’ for a while now. It ended up longer than expected so I’m seperating what I had planned for today into two different prompts. The next part of this at least three part idea will probably be written at the earliest possible date so lookout for that.

Today’s prompt though does require some warnings so... in summary, I essentially torture Labrys from P4A. She gets electrocuted a lot, she’s restrained at the time and will black out over it. If this isn’t your thing/this makes you uncomfortable, don’t read this.

Fic under the cut for this who do want to read...

“Alright 031. We’re gonna be doing something a little different today.” The untidy researcher spoke as 031 tilted her head from the maintenance chair. Did that mean she wouldn’t have to fight today? A hope started bubbling within her as she waited for clarification.

“You’re going to be fitted with a new upgrade that should alter your performance in the testing chamber and hopefully increase your effectiveness with self-preservative protocols.” The woman explained as she fiddled with her glasses and shifted her clipboard under her arm. “In order to issue this upgrade to you, we’ll need you to power down completely. Is that understood?”

“Understood.” She answered with a nod, a curious glimmer in her eyes. An upgrade huh? What could it be? Improved balancers or maybe a targeting system? But then they did say self preservative protocols so… hm…

Did this mean she was too reckless?

“Well the preparations are all complete so when you’re ready, you can proceed with the shutdown.” At that, 031 leaned back a bit more and started the shutdown process. Hopefully this wouldn’t take long and she could go tell 024 about her new upgrade.

As the world went dark, she couldn’t help but notice the worried tone in one of the researchers as they questioned how worth it this would be.

When her awakening was next triggered, she opened her eyes to find the researchers all at a slightly larger distance away from her. Did something happen whilst she was out?

“Good to see you’re back with us 031. Anything to report?” At the question, she ran a quick scan, finding no abnormalities. Instead she found that the new software had been integrated into every aspect of her self and had to wonder what exactly it was.

“Nothin’ to report.” She answered with a shake of the head. “No abnormalities.”

“Good, good. Now we can begin the testing aspect for today.” The researcher with the curled hair picked up his clip board and pen, holding the nib against what she could only assume was the first item on his checklist. “Now how should we do this…?” He mused as one of the other researchers glanced over his shoulder.

“Can we not just use the same methods as we did unit 014?” The woman asked with a raised eyebrow and 031 found her head tilting as she tried to figure out what they were planning. Did 014 have this new upgrade too? She briefly wondered if she could find her and ask about it later to see what testing she had to undergo but after some thought, she decided that was likely not a good idea. 024 was the only other person she found that had any semblance of a personality after all.

“I suppose we could… Its natural resistances should nullify any lasting effects and I guess given its much more advanced design…” The untidy researcher rolled his eyes at him.

“Look, it’ll be fine. Let’s just get the data already.” He walked towards 031, removing a rectangular object from a nearby box and stopping midway. “Well? Who wants to do it?” He addressed the rest of the researchers, presenting them with the weird, pronged object. There was silence for a while as they all exchanged looks.

“I’ll do it.” The woman stepped forward and dropped her notes onto the table, taking the object from the man with an uncaring expression.

“You sure?” The man let her take it and stepped aside whilst she tutted.

“Please. It’s not even human.” 031 felt herself frown at that, though she wasn’t entirely sure why.

“Fair enough. Be careful though.” At that warning, the restraints binding her arms and legs to the chair suddenly made themselves apparent to her. It must be a safety thing she supposed. The woman nodded at him, before approaching her. She stopped by her side and adjusted a dial on the device before reaching it out towards her.

“Now, this should feel a little different to anything you’ve felt before.” She explained as 031 watched her curiously. So they’d upgraded her sense of touch? Hm… “We’ll try the lowest possible setting first to see how you are and will go from there. Understood?”

“Understood.” She parroted back with a nod, wondering what this was supposed to feel like to her.

“Good. Then let’s proceed.” Without another moment, the woman held the button on the side down, a strange buzzing sound emanating from it that sounded like a low charge of electricity running through it.

The very moment those prongs were pressed against her arm, 031 jolted, eyes wide as she instinctively shifted away from it. What was that?

It was so quick, she didn’t even know how to describe it. The woman quirked an eyebrow pressing against her arm again. This time, when she jumped and shifted, the prongs were held against her.

031’s eyes were wide as she tried to discern the feeling of electricity pulsing off her arm like this. It felt… it felt bad. As if someone was continuously pushing needles into the area the prongs were and it stung. She kept, shifting, trying to get it off to stop the bad feeling, the woman watching her intently as she did so.

When the object was pulled away, she found the feeling hadn’t entirely left with it. She breathed a small sigh of relief as the sensation began to lessen until it was barely a dull throbbing in the back of her mind. Ruby eyes narrowed on the device that had caused such a feeling and tilted her head as she tried to put words to it all.

“Well? What did that feel like?” The woman asked as she began to adjust the dials again.

“Um… like…” a long hum, before inspiration struck, “It felt like the sound that you hear when metal scrapes on metal, but not as bad.” There was some mumbling between the researchers as they jotted things down on their notepads and clipboards, some examining the computer monitors and relaying that information back to them.

“Do you have a word for that feeling?” She asked and 031 shook her head. “That feeling is known as pain. It’s the physical indicator for something that has caused, or almost caused damage to you, or it lets you know when something is wrong with your body.” 031 hummed as that information processed.

So they gave her the ability to feel pain? What was the point in that? To make her more human? She hoped so.

“Upping the power level to two.” The woman announced as she finished fiddling with the device. What would it feel like this time? Would it feel better than before?

The moment the prongs hit, she got her answer. She startled, trying to move away from the object that was now pressed against her restrained leg. This… this hurt.

The electricity ran through her leg, sending signals every which way that this wasn’t good. It stung, the limb shaking as she tried to get the feeling to stop. Was this what 014 had felt when they’d tested it on her?

When they pulled away again, she felt a little relieved but the stinging didn’t seem to want to go away. It lingered longer than last time, the intensity just that little bit stronger.

“Now, was that better or worse?” The woman asked before returning to that dial, an uneasy feeling settling in her chest at not knowing just how strong this thing could go. How bad was this going to get?

“Worse.” She answered easily, leg still aching from the contact. “Is it supposed to hurt?”

“Of course. This is an important measure to take in order to both promote the development of your personality as well as improve your risk assessment and self-preservation skills.” The explanation didn’t make her feel much better. “Now how did that feel in comparison to the last one?”

“Uh… the same but worse…?” She offered, not really sure how else to say it. The researchers nodded as they scribbled more notes down and the remnants of the last contact faded away.

“I see. Increasing power to level three.” Without giving her time to prepare, the woman pressed the prongs to the back of her wrist. 031 felt herself yelp at the sensation, her arms struggling against the restraints as the pain increased tenfold. Why was this so much worse?

The moments seemed to drag on longer now, the stinging sensation becoming more akin to the sickening sound she’d heard when she burst the neck of one of the others. When the device was removed, she felt her breaths coming a little heavier, the pain hardly dying down at all, even as the researchers talked amongst themselves. She found herself eying the device warily, one question coming to mind that she had to voice.

“What is that…?” Whatever it was, she hated it. Why did something like this even exist? Who would ever think inventing that was a good-

It was at that moment, 031 realised that the same could be said about herself and decided to stop that train of thought. She had to prepare herself for the next contact.

“This is a taser, specifically designed to inflict pain upon the target but not so much that it leaves lasting damage.” The woman explained nonchalantly as the researchers continued to exchange theories in the background. She didn’t particularly care to listen to it this time. It never made much sense to her anyway.

“Increasing power to level four.” The woman spoke again, this time causing her to flinch and brace herself for what was to come, the stinging from the last contact still not having fully dissipated yet.

When the electricity hit, no amount of bracing could have prepared her for it. She jumped and jolted violently as the pain seared through her body, burning through her insides from where the taser pressed against her stomach. It hurt so bad…

It took a while to register she was making noise, vocalising her pain with yelps and yowls as she struggled. Why was this one taking so much longer?!

As the taser left, she felt her breathing suddenly become much easier, though still remaining shaky as the lingering pain continued to scream at her. Her head hung as she focused on trying to calm herself, she didn’t know how much was to come but she had a feeling it wasn’t over yet. Glancing back up, a nervous look at the woman showed she was once again fiddling with the dials. Just how much more was there?

“Upping power to level five.” She spoke, 031 already leaning away from her the best she physically could being restrained as well as she was. Her eyes scrunched shut, body tensing as she dreaded the shock to come.

Her eyes flew open as the worst pain yet, seared through her systems. She screamed at the sensation, her attempts to escape doubling since last time. Her mind went blank, the only thought being to get away from the danger at any cost. The prongs pressed harder into her chest and she felt her heart screech, the crystal shaking at the forces being pushed through her body.

The fans on either side of her head began to whirl in an effort to release some of the tension, to ease the blistering hurt relentlessly pulsing through her. Her eyes found the researcher’s, pleading for her to stop.

She didn’t even blink as she held the taser harder against her.

The moment, she finally pulled away, 031 slumped in her chair. The fans never stopped spinning as she tried to catch her breath and dull the pain any way she could. Her mind settled on trying to distract herself, trying to hold onto the image of 024 and Snowy playing fetch with each other outside, or trying to figure out what she’d meant when she said they were loved.

It was no use. She couldn’t seem to focus on anything, especially as she distantly heard the researchers fiddling with the dials again.

She hoped, no, prayed there wasn’t another level. Please let that have been it. She didn’t think she could take any more of it.

Slowly, her eyes raised to find the woman who’d been doing this to her. An incredible fear began to rise as she started registering what they were saying over the sound of whirring from her cooling fans.

“I believe now would be a good time to test her limits, don’t you?” The woman spoke to the others as if she were talking about the weather.

“Hm… Wouldn’t it be better to wait till tomorrow? The build up here might affect the results.” The untidy researcher offered thoughtfully as he eyed her with a hum.

“Maybe, but doing so today might give us insight into any faults once we get to the higher intensity levels.” The man with the curled hair tweaked his glasses and she decided she didn’t like him either.

“I believe it’s worth seeing just how far we can push her so that we know where the boundaries between too weak and too strong are.” The woman crossed her arms. “Besides, she won’t be fighting anything today. There’s no risk of it affecting her performance until the effects of the sensors wear off.” 031 felt her hands start clenching and unclenching in succession at her words. Was that a nervous quirk…? Come to think of it, was vocalising distress like she’d just done a normal human reaction?

“Hmm… I suppose you have a point. It would be more beneficial to know the limit sooner rather than later…” The untidy researcher hummed to her horror. They weren’t serious… were they?

“Then it’s decided.” The woman turned back to her and she immediately shrank into her chair. She turned the dials on her taser, hopefully for the last time today before her eyes found 031’s. Any hope of appealing to her better nature fled at the sheer lack of compassion in that steady green gaze.

“Increasing to maximum power levels.” Ruby eyes opened impossibly wide before she scrambled to at least try and prepare herself for the blast of electricity to come.

Nothing could have prepared her for this. Not a single level before this had held a candle to the sheer agony that coursed through her system like a forest on fire. She screamed, loud enough for her throat to hurt, the sound echoing back at her and ringing through her ears as the fan blades spun even faster.

She thrashed in her place, fighting against the restraints and begging them to open so it would stop. Her mind spun as her screaming turned to screeching as the pain only intensified as time went on. Why wouldn’t it stop?

Not a single other thought flew through her head. Her instincts pleading with her to try and find a way out of this, her heart trembling within its cage at the sheer torture of it all.

She wanted out. She’d never wanted out more in her life as she continued to twist and turn, attempting to force the restraints off her and let her go. As the prongs were pressed even harder against her side, something in her cut out.

The world suddenly started spinning, black spots beginning to cloud her vision and the whirring of her fans growing more and more distant. The pain never stopped until the darkness swallowed her whole.

~~~~~~

Her hearing returned to her first. Her body was numb, eyes sealed shut and mouth unable to move as sounds began reaching her sensors again.

“Is it coming around?” The distant question asked by a familiar voice didn’t seem directed at her.

“I hope so. How long’s it been now?” A man this time spoke up impatiently.

“It’s been less than a day, this could have easily been worse.” Another man answered. Less than a day…?

She managed a small noise as she tried to will herself awake. As her vision returned she found herself back in her maintenance chair, the familiar researchers standing around her, observing her as usual.

“Hey. You back with us?” The untidy researcher asked rather harshly. It took her a moment to remember how to answer, a moment that seemed to intrigue all of them.

“Yeah.” Her voice had come out like a quiet whisper, her gaze wandering over her restraints to check if they were still there. The knowledge they were made her body tense and her nerves become obvious.

“Hm, it seems to have associated the restraints with the pain inflicted on it from before.” The man with the curled hair pushed his glasses up his nose, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. “To think it’d be so quick to make connections like that. Especially given how it’s been restrained before with no negative experiences attached.”

“I’m more amazed it managed to pass out on us for as long as it did.” The untidy man huffed a bit as he approached. “Was there a fault that could have caused that? Any abnormalities at all?” He asked as he looked over his notes again.

“A-all systems green. No abnormalities.” She responded, a slight stutter in her words that seemed to interest her spectators even more.

“Alright then 031. We’ll just run a few more tolerance tests and you can go enjoy your free time.” The man with the curled hair stepped forward, picking up the taser as he passed and as the fear began to rise, she couldn’t help but wonder whether she still preferred this to the testing chamber…

[duhragonball]

[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (129/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation.   This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: About 1000 years before the events of Dragon Ball Z.

[18 August, 233 Before Age. Nagaoka.]

"Treekul! I need your help."

Guwar found her in one of the common rooms of the cult's underground complex. He hadn't seen her since they first arrived together on Nagaoka. At first, he had been too occupied with his indoctrination and the rituals that followed. Later, when he rose through the ranks to become one of the cult's Executants, he had greater privileges, but he was too busy with various missions to wonder what had happened to her. But now, when she was the only one on the planet who could help him, he discovered that she was much easier to track down than he expected.

The alien woman looked up from the yellowed parchment she was reading and her eyes lit up at the sight of him. "Guwar!" she cried out. "I was starting to think I'd never see you again."

She met him in the middle of the room and embraced him somewhat awkwardly. They had never exactly been friends to begin with, and their current positions in the cult didn't call for much fraternization. Fortunately, the others in the room were of lower rank, and dared not to question the behavior of a Priestess and an Executant.

"Listen," she said as she pulled him close so no one else could hear. "I need to talk to you. Alone."

"As you command, Priestess," Guwar said immediately, making sure everyone could hear. "Right this way."

He hadn't been expecting her to need anything from him, but it made things simpler that way. When they first came to Nagaoka, Guwar had assumed that Treekul would be executed immediately. She wasn't a Saiyan like the rest of them, after all. Surprisingly, she was allowed to live among them, even receiving the rank of priestess. But instead of robes, she was fitted with a strange dress of red strips of fabric, and he had never known her to provide any counseling. Guwar didn't know what to make of it, but he was more concerned with his own problems instead of figuring out her status.

"If you needed to speak with me so badly, why didn't you just summon me?" Guwar asked in a low voice when they were in an empty hallway.

"I didn't know I could," Treekul said. "You mean it was that easy?"

"You're a priestess," he said. "We're bound to follow your orders."

"Yeah, but I don't want the boss to know what I'm up to," she said.

"The boss?"

"Trismegistus," Treekul said. "I just started calling him that at some point and... Oh, it doesn't matter."

"Well, if anyone asks, you can tell them you're helping me," Guwar said. He led her to his quarters and swung open the door. "I need to understand something and you're the only one who can decipher--"

"We need to get out of this place," she said the moment the door was closed. "Right now."

"You're forbidden to leave, Treekul, everyone knows that. Trismegistus made it very clear."

"Did he tell you why?" Treekul asked.

"You're an alien," he said. "You could betray our secrets."

"Then why did he make me a priestess?" Treekul asked. "Why is he training me in alchemy? Why didn't he just kill me from the start?"

"He has some use for you," Guwar said. "And if you would have preferred execution so badly, I'm sure you could have found a way by now. You still live because you must see the truth in this place. Don't deny it."

"He's insane," Treekul said. "All he cares about is controlling people, and some bizarre plan for the Saiyan species. He's only keeping me around for his own amusement!"

"That's his right!" Guwar said. "You should be honored he's letting you learn from him at all. The Jindan power won't work on you because you're not a Saiyan. If he can impart some of his wisdom to you, then you could become a great help to us--"

"Sure, that'd be great," Treekul said. "The only trouble is that he isn't teaching me anything at all. He's just putting me through pointless exercises to keep me busy, or to test my compliance."

"He's testing your resolve," Guwar said. "You can't learn the deeper secrets unless you've proven your dedication to his teachings. Don't you get it? He could make you so much more than you already are, if you'd just let him."

"All I want," Treekul said, "is to get as far away from this planet as I can."

"Then cooperate," Guwar said. "The Executants and other priests are allowed to come and go as we please, because Trismegistus trusts us to carry out his will." He grabbed a stack of papers from his writing desk and shoved them into Treekul's arms. "You can start by checking my work."

"What is all of this?" Treekul asked.

"Trismegistus ordered me to calculate a mathematical model of the war effort," he explained. "The tactics don't make much sense from a conventional standpoint, but he told me that it was all based on geomantic adjustments."

"He's tampering with galactic ley lines?" Treekul asked. "That's crazy."

"It's brilliant," Guwar said. "Luffa can kill all of our warriors, but it won't do her any good in the long run. Eventually the galactic ley lines running through Federation space will be permanently shifted to ensure our ultimate victory. Trismegistus wants me to refine the calculations to improve the process."

"You can't just move cosmic ley lines," Treekul said. "It would take more power than... No. He could do it, couldn't he?"

"The trouble I'm having is that I keep running into a brick wall on the math," Guwar said. "His methods are based on an algorithm by another alchemist, the first Trismegistus, he said, but that work was for a smaller scale. I'm sure I could adapt it, except the algorithm itself doesn't make any sense. It doesn't look like it would work at all, which means any model I build will also fail. I've gone over it a hundred times, and I think I'm missing something on the geomancy side of things. That's where you come in."

"Me?" Treekul asked. "What good can I do?"

"It's no different from when we collaborated on the search to find this planet," Guwar said. "You used a geomantic compass to triangulate the locations of alchemical artifacts. This is just the same thing on a bigger scale."

"I don't..." she trailed off as she looked at the papers he had given her. For a moment, it was like it was before they found Nagaoka. He was a Saiyan mathematician, and she was an archaeologist specializing in alchemical artifacts. Guwar had come to despise those times, before the Jindan potion increased his strength, and made him a somebody for the first time in his life. And he was certain that she had grown as well. Whatever Trismegistus had taught her, he was sure that it had made her more powerful. She still opposed the cult in her heart, but she couldn't help but improve in this kind of environment. And working together, they could do almost anything...

After a few moments, she shook her head and shut her eyes tightly. "Guwar this is nothing like what we did before. Using the ley lines to find a planet, that's one thing, but what Rehval is proposing is just..."

"All I need is for you to verify the core principles of geomancy," Guwar said. "The algorithm has to work, Treekul, or he wouldn't be using it, but the computer can't make heads or tails of it, so--"

"What computer?" Treekul asked.

"On the ship I'm using. Rehval has one set aside for me to use for my work."

"Then you can take me off the planet," Treekul said. "You Executants can come and go as you like, right? I'll help you with this, but you have to smuggle me out of here, drop me off on some other world. That's my price."

"I can't do that," Guwar insisted. "I have a lot of pull here, but not enough to take you away from the master. He'd remove my Jindan power for sure."

"Would that really be so bad?" Treekul asked.

"Are you kidding?" Guwar said. "I'd be even weaker than I was when you first met me."

"That never mattered to me before," Treekul said. "I... well, I respected you as a scholar. That, and the whole space pirate thing you had going for you. That was pretty cool."

"Well that wasn't enough," Guwar said. "Not for me. I wanted more from you than respect, woman. But I could tell you weren't interested, not the way I was before."

"I didn't think you'd be interested in me," she said. "Besides, Endive was crazy about you, and I didn't want to try to get in the way of that."

"Endive?" he asked. "That's ridiculous. She wants nothing to do with me. Even now, when I've become as powerful as I am."

He wanted to believe her, of course. The truth was, Guwar was interested in them both, but with Endive, it was more of a matter of lust and pride. The idea of such a magnificent specimen at his side was very captivating, but Treekul had Endive beat on personality. He could have conversation with Treekul, and her strange hair and lavender skin had grown on him over the time they had spent together. For a moment, he allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy that strength didn't matter, and that both women were infatuated with him at the same time, and they had just been too intimidated by his brilliance to make a move.

"Rehval has her so brainwashed that she only wants what he tells her to want," Treekul said. "Just like he has you running in circles trying to solve his equations."

And that was the proof Guwar needed, the proof that Treekul was lying to him. For he knew that the cult hadn't brainwashed any of them. It had simply reinforced truths they had all known from the beginning. The supreme value of strength, the importance of ruthlessness. Endive outranked him, so if she was truly in love with Guwar, she could have ordered him to her bed whenever she wanted. But she never did, because she was waiting for him to prove his worth, one way or another. And he would. Rehval Trismegistus had promised Guwar great rewards for completing this model, and Endive would be one of them.

"I don't buy it," Guwar said. "You're a priestess, aren't you? If you wanted me so badly, what's stopping you? I'll do anything you ask, short of taking you off the planet."

"Yeah, well that's not how I like to socialize," Treekul said. "I didn't ask for any of this, and I'm not going to exploit my 'power' over the rest of you like that. And even if I was willing to stoop that low, I wouldn't waste time on you now. I liked the Guwar from before. This guy I'm talking to now.... I... I don't know who you are anymore."

They stood there silently for a minute or two, and then Guwar shook his head and pointed at the door.

"Enough of this," he said. "Work on the equations or don't. I'll give you whatever I can in return, but I still can't take you off the planet. There's no use discussing that."

"Oh, I'll help you, Guwar," Treekul said. "It's not like I have anything better to do with my time, and it seems to be the only way I can get through to you."

Guwar thanked her for her cooperation as she left, but he doubted that she would take the problem seriously. At the very least, he could be certain that she wouldn't tell Rehval that he was having trouble with his assignment. She was so suspicious and paranoid towards the Master that he doubted that she would tell him much of anything. And even if Guwar had no intention of giving her a lift in his ship, he could still use that as a bargaining chip to keep her quiet. He sighed and returned to his notes. He would work in his quarters for a while, then return to the ship to check his figures against the computer. Treekul had helped in one sense, at least. Even if she didn't check his work, she still gave him the motivation to solve this problem, if only to prove to her that Trismegistus truly was the great man he claimed to be. Treekul was a reasonable woman, and once he laid out the calculations for her, she would have no choice but to accept the truth. Even if it took weeks to sort things out, Guwar was certain he could find the answer. The numbers wouldn't lie.

*******

[15 September, 233 Before Age. Nagaoka.]

The numbers just wouldn't add up.

It was all supposed to tie together. The algorithm was supposed to work, and all he would have to do was refine the calculations and build a more robust mathematical model for Rehval's plans. Each battle was supposed to tug on the cosmic ley lines that supposedly governed the currents of fate in the galaxy. It was all supposed to work.

Only it didn't. He had gone over the figures for over a week now, and they simply didn't fit. Guwar had checked and double-checked the numbers, and the results just didn't match up with Rehval's plans. Rehval had boldly predicted victory within months. Guwar couldn't even extrapolate a duration of time that was a real number.

So he checked population growth models and tried to determine if the Jindan cult's population was sustainable. It would be, provided a stable birth rate, and with the cult's emphasis on breeding, that seemed to be a safe assumption. But that only meant the war with the Federation would go on indefinitely. Rehval could keep sending cultists to invade the Federation, and Luffa would continue to kill them, and he would have more to make good the losses.

What did that leave? Luffa wasn't immortal. Eventually she would die of old age, and the stalemate would be broken. But that would eventually happen anyway. If Trismegistus's grand scheme was to wait out the clock, he could do it without squandering his resources. Instead, Rehval had insisted that victory was imminent, and the lives he had sacrificed at the front would not be in vain.

And Guwar believed him. He had believed him before, and he still did now. Rehval was Trismegistus, the Holy Inventor of Jindan, the King of the Saiyans, the One Who Would Transform the Universe. He had transformed Guwar, changing him from a nobody into a great man. It was all true. It had to be true.

Because if it wasn't true, then Trismegistus was a fraud.

If it wasn't true, then Guwar wasn't a great man. Being an Executant was meaningless. He was nothing more than a patsy, no matter how strong the Jindan potion had made him.

He didn't want it to be a lie. And so he checked his figures again. And again. And again. He searched for proofs that would save him from the dilemma. He racked his brain for theorems that could help him escape. In the end, all of his mathematical skill could only offer him a more beautiful expression of the same problem. Rehval's geomantics plans would make perfect sense. The war would end in Jindan victory precisely when he said it would. Beginning with that premise and working backwards, Guwar could solve the equations and find the conditions necessary to support that truth. In the end it boiled down to a simple falsehood:

Two equals three.

This non-answer stared him in the face as he feverishly re-checked his work. It had been staring him in the face the entire time. He had already established that Rehval's strategy was impossible. "Two equals three" was just another way of saying it. Two, of course, did not equal three, and never could.

The contradiction was too awful for him to put into words. It was like being diagnosed with a terminal disease, only Guwar considered this much, much worse. At least a doctor could be wrong, or a patient's body might prove more resilient than anyone imagined. Even the hardest sciences allowed for a slim chance of things turning out differently. The law of gravity was only "true" until someone found a way to prove it false. That was incredibly unlikely, but never impossible.

Two, however, was incapable of being Three. There was no bargaining with this, no semantic argument to be made. A layman or a freshman philosophy student might blithely wonder if numbers really had any meaning after all. But Guwar was a mathematician, and his training forbade him from dismissing this, no matter how badly he wished otherwise.

The numbers didn't lie. They couldn't lie. Worst of all, it had been Trismegistus who told him to consult the numbers in the first place. Trismegistus, the Thrice Blessed, had made a mistake. There could be no new model, because the algorithm is was to be based upon simply couldn't work.

And as his mind raced for a solution to his dilemma, he considered checking with Treekul, to see if she had come up with something he could use to make sense of all of this. It mathematics couldn't save his faith in Rehval, then maybe alchemy would. But first, he remembered what she had said to him in his quarters.

"He's just putting me through pointless exercises to keep me busy, or to test my compliance."

He hadn't taken her words seriously at the time, but now he began to wonder. Was this just another pointless exercise? If Rehval would waste Treekul's time, why wouldn't he do the same to Guwar? Was all of this just a test to see what Guwar would do? Was he supposed to admit that the task was impossible to prove his honesty? Or did Rehval expect him to falsify his results to demonstrate his blind obedience? Or had Rehval gone mad, and he truly had no idea how flawed his plans truly were?

No matter how Guwar looked at it, he had spent the last six weeks in a spacecraft for no good reason.

He would have to come out sometime, and what was he going to do when he finally did?

*******

[16 September, 233 Before Age. Nagaoka.]

He found Treekul in her quarters. It was a violation of protocol to barge in on a priestess without being summoned, but he was past caring about such things. She didn't move from her desk.

"You were right," he said. "You were right about everything. We have to get out of here."

"Who's 'we', Guwar?" Treekul asked. She didn't bother looking up from her work. "I'm getting out of here, on my own terms. Are you asking me to invite you along?"

"Rehval's lying to us," Guwar said. "He asked me to verify his claims... no, he told me to, but I can't. The numbers just don't line up. He doesn't care about winning the war, he just wants me to tell him what he wants to hear."

"Who are you trying to convince here, Guwar?" Treekul asked. "Me or yourself?"

"I'm trying to tell you that I'm on your side now!" he hissed. "I want out. I'll do whatever it takes to get out. If we work together, we'll have a much better chance of--"

She looked up from the grimoire she was reading and smiled distantly at him. "You really think it's that simple?" she asked. "I've had time to think it over, and it just won't work. Twenty minutes after he notices you're gone, he'll withdraw the Jindan power from you. You'll lose all the power you've gained in this place, and then some."

"You... you said you didn't care about that," Guwar asked.

"On a personal level, I don't," Treekul said. She finally rose to her feet and looked him in the eye. "The point is that you'll be no match for whoever they send after us. And they will send someone. Endive, probably. She knows where I live. Hell, Rehval probably extracted all sorts of information from me with his potions, and I don't even know about it. I'll probably never see my home planet again."

"They didn't send anyone after Salziff when he left the cult," Guwar countered. He was a little surprised by the desperation he heard in his voice. Salziff had been their last lead in their search for Nagaoka. It was strange now, to think back to a time when Guwar so badly wanted to find this planet, and now he wanted to leave. He tried not to think about how weak and sick Salziff had been, or how Salziff had warned them to stay away from the cult. All he wanted to remember now was that Salziff had quit the cult and lived to tell about it.

"Salziff didn't quit, he was kicked out," Treekul said. "And losing the Jindan power turned him into an invalid. Is that how you'd want to end up? Don't you get it? They let him go because he was no threat to them. If anything, they used him as free advertising. If he kept his mouth shut, fine, but if he told anyone what he knew, it would only attract other Saiyans curious about how to get stronger. It's how we ended up here in the first place."

She picked up her stylus and poked Guwar's vest with it. "Salziff was a rule-breaker. They made an example out of him. You, on the other hand, Executant Guwar, have an outstanding service record. You're in too deep. You know too much about the cult and how it works. Rehval shared his war plans with you, for pity's sake. He can't let you go."

A chill ran down Guwar's spine, and he felt like something inside his head was collapsing in on itself. "I... I hadn't thought of that," he said.

"Of course not. Why would you? You thought you were on the winning side, right up until you checked his math. That's how he breaks people, Guwar. He gives them everything they thought they wanted, and then, when it's too late to back out, he betrays them somehow. He doesn't want us to trust him. He wants us to serve him even though we don't trust him."

A glimmer of hope suddenly dawned on him. "Then... maybe the plans he asked me to check were a phony," he said. "He was just testing me to see if I'd defy him."

"No," Treekul said, snuffing his idea before he could even consider it. "If the plans were fake, there'd be no test. He wants you to know what he's up to, and that it won't work the way he tells everyone. That way, if you continue to serve him, he'll know he rules you completely, in spite of your better judgment. If you cut and run, then it only proves you weren't worth having in the first place."

"I don't believe this," Guwar said, planting his hands over his face. He turned away from Treekul and lowered his head, as if trying to hide from the truths she was speaking.

"You had the right idea from the start, Guwar," Treekul said. "I can't escape, not the way I am. The only chance I have is to learn from Rehval, until I have enough power to escape him without being hunted down."

"That doesn't make any sense!" Guwar said. "He's not going to teach you how to leave this place!"

"Not directly," Treekul said. "It'll take a while. I'm an alchemical historian, not an alchemist like him. I'll never reach his level, but there's things I can find that he won't know to look for. Take a look at this."

He turned and saw her smiling as she pointed at a page from the grimoire she had been studying. Among the lines of tiny, alien characters and symbols, there was a woodcut image depicting a crude diagram of the galaxy, with various lines criss-crossing it like a spider's web. Surrounding this were various alchemical notations, along with an inscrutable face in the galactic center, which implied that the galaxy itself was a living thing.

"Rehval claims he can manipulate cosmic ley lines," Treekul explained. "I thought that was impossible, and maybe it is, on the scale he's talking about--"

"It is impossible," Guwar insisted. "I wouldn't be talking to you right now if it wasn't!"

"Maybe so," Treekul continued. "But these texts suggest that you can nudge them a little. A primeval Makyan used a spell to camouflage his planet from geomantic triangulation. I'm betting Rehval used something similar to hide this world. If I can learn how to do it myself, I can create a refuge where he'll never find me."

Guwar couldn't believe what he was hearing. "'If'?" he asked. "You don't even know if he can do it. How long will it take you to learn?"

"Like I said," Treekul replied. "It's a long game, but it's the best chance I have. In the meantime, I'll have to figure out how to counterfeit enough precious metals to pay the bills while I'm in hiding."

"We don't have time for that!" Guwar said. "If he learns what we're planning, he'll--"

"He already knows I don't want to be here," Treekul said. "He's toying with me, so the only choice I have is to play along and wait for an opening. Now, if you'll excuse me, I really need to get back to this..."

She turned to resume her reading, but Guwar grabbed her by the shoulders and lifted her out of her chair. "You little fool!" he growled. "You said yourself that this is exactly what he does to control people! All you'll end up doing is entangling yourself even further!"

"What's your point?" Treekul said. "I'm already trapped here. Worst case scenario, I get so drawn into this world of his that I end up enjoying it. You and Endive don't seem to mind."

Guwar's eyes went wide with horror. Treekul was his only ally in this nightmare, and she had practically resigned herself to her fate. He had never felt so alone. Even when he had literally been alone, he had always felt enough confidence in his ability to overcome any obstacles. Now, there was only himself and his power, and these belonged Trismegistus, who surrounded him on all sides.

He lowered Treekul back to her seat, and she returned to her work. There was the chance, however slight, that her plan might be his only salvation, but he doubted it. The look he had seen in her eyes was all too familiar. He had seen it in the faces of all the other Saiyans who had sold their souls to Trismegistus, only to swallow their regret later on. Like them, Treekul would tell herself she was biding her time, and Rehval would just manipulate her into doing his bidding.

The same thing would happen to him, sooner or later. The longer he remained here, the tighter Rehval's grip would become.

And so, Rehval turned and ran. If Treekul realized that they would never see each other again, she didn't bother to react. Guwar himself felt strangely empty about it. It was as though he knew he ought to care, but couldn't bring himself to do so. He supposed that if he made it to safety, he would have plenty of time later to regret leaving her behind.

*******

Leaving Rehval's base of operations was exceedingly simple. As an Executant, Guwar knew where all the ships were kept, and he had license to requisition one at any time, no questions asked. He briefly considered taking steps to cover his tracks, like entering false data into the flight log to throw off any pursuers. He also considered sabotaging the rest of the fleet to slow down the inevitable manhunt. But he dismissed these ideas almost immediately. The longer he delayed his departure, the greater the risk that he would be caught before he could even get off the planet. Like so many of his past adventures in space piracy, his best chance lay in outer space, where the playing field would be somewhat more level. There, he could pit the technology of his own stolen ship against those that followed him. Rehval could remove the Jindan power from him at any moment, but it wouldn't diminish his own skills as a pilot.

And so, he simply returned to the science vessel he had been using for his work, and launched it into orbit. He charted a course towards Mundokuul, then set the ship to proceed along in the opposite direction. There were no inhabited planets along that path, but he planned to alter course several hours later. With any luck, he could throw his pursuers off-balance by heading for nowhere in particular. Eventually, he would find a spaceport, steal another ship, and repeat the process until he was far enough away to breathe a little easier.

But he knew that wouldn't solve anything in the long term. He knew that Rehval had the means to track him down, however long it might take. Treekul's talk of "nudging" cosmic ley lines to create a hiding place seemed far-fetched to him. Still, the very fact that she was seriously considering it meant that Rehval would be very difficult to avoid. He believed that it was best to act immediately and risk the consequences of his haste, but now that he had taken that step, he began to appreciate just how weak his position really was.

As the hours passed, he also found time to second-guess his decision to leave. All he had left was his Executant uniform, which was meaningless in the outside universe. The privileges that came with it-- the food, the women, the authority-- were all behind him now. He was back to being plain old Guwar again. Less than Guwar, really, once the Jindan power was finally removed from his body. If Treekul had come along, it might have made things easier for him. Now, all he had left was abstract solace of mathematics. For however long it lasted, he was free once again to admit that two was not equal to three.

Perhaps mathematics was all that remained for him in life. He had plundered planets to sate his Saiyan craving for battle, but the galaxy had clearly become too intense a place for a small fry like him. The future would be dominated by monsters like Rehval and Luffa, and those who served them. All that remained for men like Guwar was to struggle to stay out of their way.

"At least I've had some practice staying one step ahead of the monsters," Guwar mumbled aloud to himself. "I managed to keep away from Luffa, so how bad can Rehval be...?"

Then it suddenly hit him. Luffa. The only reason the Super Saiyan had ever persecuted him was because she was hunting Rehval. And now, here he was, running away from Rehval because he knew too much about his organization. He had been so worried about Rehval punishing him for treason that he never stopped to consider why it would be so important to Rehval in the first place.

As he consulted the star charts for the distance to Federation space, he considered the risks. Luffa might destroy him on sight, thinking him to be an enemy. The Jindan Saiyans currently attacking the Federation might turn against him as well, assuming Rehval informed them of his betrayal. On the other hand, Guwar knew Rehval's war plans, including when and where he planned to deploy his forces. Surely that intelligence would be enough to get him into Federation territory without being attacked.

And then, even as he began to feel some semblance of confidence in his survival, he felt a strange tingle in his body. It began in his abdomen, and radiated outward. Guwar had never experienced the Withdrawal before, and though he had expected it, he had no idea how it would feel when it finally happened. Acting more on instinct than anything else, he got up from the pilot's seat of his ship, and retreated to the rear cabin, where he sought the relative comfort of the cot mounted to the inner hull. Instead, he was assailed with an intense pain, and he collapsed onto the deck.

As he lay in a fetal position on the floor, he clutched at his stomach with fingers that were so numb that he felt like they belonged to someone else. He saw a purple aura surrounding his body, and it seemed to grow brighter as the pain increased. Guwar was tempted to beg for mercy, but he bit his lower lip instead. There was no one to hear his pleas, even if he made them. At least if he endured this agony in silence, he could preserve some small remnant of his Saiyan pride.

And then, just when it seemed that it would never stop, and he would be unable to endure any more, the pain vanished, leaving him only with the traumatic memory of the suffering it had caused him. Gingerly, Guwar rose to his knees, and as he pulled himself onto the bunk, he sensed his own ki, now purged of the Jindan power, and diminished.

He was surprised by how empty it felt. By his estimate, Guwar figured he was now about as strong as he had been at ten years old. Strangely, he was grateful for this, as he had feared he would lose much more than that. But the true dread he felt was at the absence of Jindan in his body. He felt like an empty vessel, bereft of purpose. In a way, it hurt worse than the physical pain that was still fresh in his mind. Now, at last, he realized why Rehval was so eager to use the Withdrawal to punish his unruly followers. The loss of Jindan, however temporary, was far more terrible than the ecstasy of receiving it.

Guwar lay on the bunk for several hours after that, with only his despair to keep him company while he waited for his ship to reach the next stop on his journey. When the computer finally called out to him to request a new heading, it took him forty-three minutes to pull himself together and return to the controls. He would go to the Federation and find Luffa, no matter the risk, if only for the slim chance of repaying Trismegistus for what Guwar had just endured.

*******

"You could have gone with him," Rehval said. He had just received the report of the stolen starship, and he had completed the mystic ritual he used to withdraw his alchemical power from Guwar. With that task completed, he reclined in the chaise lounge in the middle of his study. "Some would consider it a rather romantic adventure. The two of you together, roaming the galaxy in exile."

"You'd find him eventually," Treekul said. She was sitting on the floor, studying parchments she had arranged in a semicircle around herself. "And you would have him killed, I assume."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Rehval said. "Guwar has served me with distinction up until now. Perhaps he needs some time away to remind him of where his home truly is. He might still be redeemed."

"And if I had gone with him?" Treekul asked.

"Then I would have had you brought back here, alive and unharmed," Rehval said. "So it would be a pointless journey, but I suppose you could have enjoyed it as something of a vacation."

"I'd rather focus on your lessons," she said. "It's a much better use of my time, isn't it?"

"I'm gratified to hear you say that," he said. "With Guwar absent, I'll need everyone to work that much harder to pick up the slack. Now, I believe you asked me to teach you about ley lines."

"The texts you provided me are incomplete," she said. "I've run across this sort of thing before. The ancient masters would encode their greatest secrets using an energy imbalance. Too much sulfurous essence, or not enough, and you can't see the text well enough to read it."

Rehval smiled. "The key is to balance the sulfurous essence with the mercurial," he explained. "An influx of masculine energies to counter the feminine, for example. Any man would suffice, but only I have the expertise to do it properly. Assuming you're interested, of course."

She rose from the floor and approached him. "Well, why not?" she asked. "I've come this far, after all."

He embraced her when she was close enough, and they shared a kiss to begin the process.

NEXT: Luffa's Test.